#why Jouska why-

[spookybeandoodle]

ITS AI ART!?!?

NOOOOOOOOOO

I HAD SUSPICIONS BUT I REFUSED TO BELIEVE IT-

He’s right that wasn’t the answer I wanted to hear damn- 😭

[jouska-the-deer]

I see a lot of people not liking the way Shadow is portrayed in the Twitter Takeovers and while I do also have issues with some of the stuff they've done with him I feel like people are placing their discontent in other places than me.

Like... it literally does not impact Shadow's personality if he likes eating coffee beans or smells like lavender or has a routine for making his bed. All those small quirks of his day-to-day life literally would not affect how he acts in the games even if the Takeovers were canon. People can be serious in some situations and have goofy seeming interests in others.

Meanwhile I more take issue with the way his dialog is written to make him more rambly than he is in the games (Oddly in the recent Takeover Knuckles specifically commented on the fact that Shadow only talks when he needs to, contrasting with some of Shadow's very meticulous answers in the takeovers) as well as making him more aggressive toward the other characters, specifically Sonic.

The last point kinda goes the other way too. In the recent Takeover, someone asked everyone to give their opinions on Shadow, and Sonic straight up calls him edgy and has to admit that he respects him.

Firstly... Shadow is only really edgy in the perspective of him as a character who goes against the norms of the children's games he's a part of. "Edgy" when referring real people (as would apply to Sonic talking about Shadow) implies a sort of "try hard" personality that Shadow just doesn't have. Shadow is cool and doesn't fake it. Infinite is edgy; Shadow isn't. Worse yet, Shadow has not done anything that Sonic hasn't also already done, (besides use guns that one time). So, is Sonic calling him edgy for being black with red highlights? That's rude.

Second, I think the part where Sonic was reluctant to say he respects Shadow is even worse to be honest. Not only would game Sonic not have a hard time saying he respects Shadow, he'd also consider him a friend. They butt heads and bicker sometimes but there's no bad blood between them; They're just super competitive people who enjoy having someone around that can evenly match their skills. I don't even think Shadow would pause to think about if he respects Sonic or not. They're very similar in a lot of ways and politeness is one of them. Neither would genuinely struggle to point out the strengths eachother has.

I like the Twitter Takeovers for their goofy moments and little peeks into what the daily lives of these characters could be like, but I do genuinely worry that people will let the sitcom-esque portrayals of the cast influence how they perceive their game counterparts. People already confuse Sonic X, Prime, and the IDW comics as being canon to the games, since they're not as visually non-canon as the movies and Boom as well as taking more inspiration from the games, so I wouldn't be surprised. It also doesn't help that the Takeovers do throw in some stuff that genuinely seems to be trying to explain game canon the way that the TailsTube videos have.

Anyway, Shadow's favorite flowers are lantanas and I think that's neat. Sucks that the Twitter Takeover writers think he and Sonic have a hard time standing each other, though.

[dominimoonbeam]

The Adventures of Stardust and Cosmic. Script 4. Part 10 - 12

I was just working on this story and the update came out! Jouska really brings this script to life! Latest part. and the series!

Scripts below if you want to read them too. <3

The Adventures of Stardust and Cosmic. Script Part 4 (chapters 10-12)

By Domini Moonbeam

10.

[Cosmic waking up on the ship]

[disoriented] St-Stardust?

Are you okay?

[groans] How did you get me back on the ship?

Wait…How did we take off? I thought I locked you out of the controls.

Since when?

You sneaky shit… [sitting up, pained sounds]

Did you…patch me up? That’s not bad work.

No, I’m not thanking you, I’m just saying it’s not a bad patch job. Did they teach you how to close a bullet wound at the same school where you learned to hack ship controls?

…I can’t tell if you’re joking.

Whatever. [getting up] I’m still covered in paint… I’m gonna go clean up.

No, I’m not saying you should have given me a sponge bath. I’m just saying I’m going… [door whoosh, walking down the hall]

[Stardust following. Cosmic groans]

Yes, I’m still mad at you.

Yes, because of that! I can’t believe you put yourself between me and a gun. You could have died. Nothing is worth… [stops, groans] I don’t think this partnership is working.

[snaps] I said it’s not working, Stardust.

Yeah, we get along great, that’s the problem. You’re going to get me killed or I’m—[can’t say it]

Stop. I don’t… I don’t care about you. And if I did, I wouldn’t be hauling your ass toward danger, would I? What sort of asshole would that make me? What sort of person would that make me…

[deep breath] Okay. We’re only a week away from the goal. We’ll make it. We’ll get the loot, hopefully get your cousins off your tail, and then we’ll go our separate ways, just like I said. If it’s the sort of stash you think it is, it’ll be plenty for you to get your own jet and hightail it wherever you want to go.

That’s not funny. Knock it off.

No, you don’t.

No. I meant what I said, Stardust. You’re a bounty. I shouldn’t have let you think otherwise. This…you and me…that’s not a thing.

[sighs and repeats] Friends… No. I don’t want to be your friend. Look at the shit you stir up.

Yeah, I said that but you’re more trouble than you’re worth.

[huffs a laugh] Shit, that’s a hell of an ego. I guess I should have expected that from a primer. Of course, you’d think you’re worth it.

No, I don’t. The only thing I care about it my payday and my skin. I don’t need a partner or a friend or… I don’t need you. I don’t need anyone.

[bursts] You’re going to leave either way! [cringing] You don’t belong out here. You’re not a mercenary or a bounty hunter. You’re just a spoiled rich kid playing at crime past the edge for thrills. You’ll get over it and go home to the prime eventually.

[sighs] That’s not the same. Your family is a completely different sort of criminal element, and you know it.

What?

You…

Stop it. You don’t mean that.

[Stardust stepping closer, voice lower] Stardust…

[sighs, so close] I wasn’t scared…

I’m not lying…

[Stardust kisses Cosmic]

[softer, conflicted] Why did you do that?

Don’t say that… Don’t. You can’t.

[another kiss]

Damn it… [Cosmic kisses Stardust, grumbles] You make bad choices, Stardust…

Yeah, this is one of those bad choices. I’m a bad choice.

[huffs a thin laugh] You’re cracked if you think that.

[kiss] You taste like paint… [smirking a little despite himself] I wasn’t complaining.

The what?

The score is not one point five to six now! You did not save me. I saved you. It’s my point. I literally pulled that merc off of you.

Are you seriously reminding me about the human shield incident already?

Yes, it’s still too soon. It’s been less than an hour!

So what if you dragged me back to the ship? You think I haven’t had to wake up and crawl back? I told you, I’ve had worse.

Fine. It’s a scratch. No points for either of us.

[longer pause, ship sounds]

[smirking] …Are you suggesting we clean up together?

I don’t think I’m in danger of passing out again. You patched the gunshot wound, remember?

I mean… Yeah, I’d hate to drown in my shower. That’d be a stupid way to go.

Stardust…Are you trying to seduce me? You know that won’t change my mind, right? You’re still on your own as soon as I get my hands on my half of that treasure.

I’ll call it treasure if I want to.

It is too.

Wait. Do you think arguing is flirting?

You are terrible at seduction…

[laughs] I could definitely do a better job!

No! That first time you stole my gun was a fluke. I wasn’t seduced, I was confused.

Absolutely not. Go use your own shower. [smiling] I can’t trust your motives.

I didn’t say it wasn’t tempting… I said I can’t trust why you’re doing it. You might just want to steal my jacket again. Or my gun. Or my ship.

[thinking] I guess that could be worth the risk…

Okay, Stardust. I’ll call your bluff. [door whoosh] Come on in. I’ll get that paint out of your hair and you can make sure I don’t faint from blood loss in the shower.

[Stardust stepping inside, the door whooshing shut, closer, quieter] Really?

[laughs] Yep. The worst at flirting…

[kiss]

[sighs] Okay. Not the worst.

11.

[hum of the ship, space sliding by outside]

[in bed, watching the stars]

Of course, my room has a window and a real bed.

Your room is a cargo hold when I’m not transporting…well, human cargo. [laughs a little] I guess it’s still a cargo hold. That’s why all the meal bars and protein shakes are in there. Did you think I put them there just for you? That room belongs to them! You’re the guest.

[stretch of quiet, space sounds]

Hm… Roll over again? I want to get another look at that map.

[laughs] Why would I be tricking you? You’re already in my bed. I’ve already seen everything…

[repositioning. Looking at the tattoo] Hm… Yeah, the map has moved a little more. It’s getting closer to the destination. I wonder what it’ll look like when we get there. It’s moving ink, so why not give us little fireworks or something when we reach the treasure?

Knock it off, you know it’s treasure.

Even if there isn’t an X and we don’t have to dig it up, it doesn’t make it not treasure. I don’t know why you refuse to call it what it is. Loot. Bounty. Booty. [laughs]

You mean, will it disappear after we find it? I don’t think so, Stardust… I’ve never known any moving ink to vanish on its own. If it bothers you, we could try to find someone to get rid of it. Once the treasure is already found, you won’t have to worry about someone trying to use it to get there.

…No, you’re right. They wouldn’t necessarily believe us that we’d already found it.

It’s not a bad tattoo. It’s beautiful work.

Stardust…[smiling] are you falling asleep?

Yeah. You can sleep here if you want. I mean…tonight. Not like, every night. Don’t try to steal my room.

[stretch of quiet]

[quieter, serious] You know this doesn’t change anything, right?

No. And we were not partners before we slept together. We’re not partners. We’re just… working together for the time being.

No, I don’t.

Nope.

I meant what I said.

Yes, I did.

I—[groans playfully] Stop it! How do you turn everything into a petty argument?

Yes, you— [stops when he realizes they’re doing it again] You’re evil.

[quiet hum of space and the ship]

[smiling] And how do you still have paint in your hair? I thought we got it all out…

Hm? Why do you want to know that?

[laughs soft] Are you trying to say that my life story is sure to be so boring that it’ll knock you out?

No. They weren’t. The only time my parents were ever on a spaceship was when they were being shipped out to the edge to colonize a new mining settlement. They used to say that I was born looking up… I think they just said that because they’d realized I’d have to go eventually. So, they told me I’d always wanted to be an adventurer and eventually I believed it.

The mines dried up sooner than the corporations expected. They stopped prioritizing the settlement. We’re far out, you know? It was close to the edge and that costs to maintain. When they finally decided it wasn’t worth it, they just stopped coming—stopped paying the mercenaries to guard the colony. Pirates and worse started to set up shop real quick after that. It’s still there, the last planetary settlement before the deep.

Hm? Oh, no, it was just me by then. I got on the first ship that would take me. Scariest ride of my life. That ship was a wreck, barely holding together, and we were packed standing inside it for hours. I can still remember the way it creaked and shook, like it was going to come apart and we’d all just be flushed out into space.

We made it to the nearest station. The captain we’d all paid, tried to double cross us by selling us to a skin ship. I was lucky that some of the others were armed and would rather go down shooting then get on that other vessel. It turned into a firefight right there in the station and we scattered. I stowed away on a big cargo ship and got out of there.

Oh, I definitely got caught, but by then we were away from the station and those cargo ships can’t waste time turning back. I guess they could have jettisoned my ass but the captain felt bad for me. I was barely more than a kid. He said he was short-handed so I could work for my food and board.

I was trying to get to the prime. [huffs a small laugh] I’m probably lucky I never made it. What would I have done there? They probably would have put my ass back on a ship running cargo out here.

…Yeah. [smiles] You’re right. If I’d gotten myself one of those legit long-haul jobs, who would have been out here to save you from those pirates?

I wouldn’t go that far.

Shut up and fall asleep already.

12. 

[space sounds]

[muffled] Stardust!

[distant alarms sounding and then an impact shudder]

[muffled] Stardust!

[Stardust running to the bridge, door whoosh, ship shudder]

[ship] L-Class yacht closing in.

Get in that seat and buckle up!

Your cousin.

I’m pretty damn sure, Stardust. Aside from the fact that no one else out here has a chrome yacht armed to the teeth, he did have the courtesy to call before he started trying to blow out our engines.

[ship control sounds, impact shudder]

I said buckle up!

We’ll go through that debris, fly close to the asteroids and see if we can lose them… That yacht is huge, maybe we’ll get lucky and they won’t want to take the hits going through. Not sure we can hope they’ll break apart but who knows, maybe we have some luck left…

[ship control sounds]

Here. You have access to the guns. Shoot them if they get in range.

I know it won’t do much against their shields but it’s not like we’re just going to give up.

Really, Stardust? You want a breakdown of the conversation, right now?

[groans] He said I could hand you over and walk, or we’d both get a bullet. Now fucking shoot something!

[ship sounds, muffled gunfire]

Fuck… They’re blowing through the debris… It’s not even slowing them down.

We can’t outrun them. The only reason they haven’t blown us to bits is because they need you alive.

[ship] Exiting debris field.

There’s a gas cloud not far from here… Maybe…

[ship] L-Class yacht is too close for safe—

[ship shuddering, hit by the yacht]

They’re ramming us…

[ship alarm in background]

They’re not outfitted to grab and board us. I think they’re trying to disable our flight. If we’re floating dead, they’d have plenty of time to figure out how to get you out.

[ship] Hull damage to starboard side. Maintenance required.

[scoffs, sarcastic] Yeah, thanks ship, I’ll get right on that.

[another hit]

Fuck!

[Stardust unbuckling]

What are you doing? Sit back down! You’re going to get hurt!

What? No!

[Cosmic unbuckling and getting up]

Stop! We’re not doing that.

[worried and frustrated] …No, we can’t get away, but maybe we could…

[pause, Stardust talking]

[stubborn] I am not trading you.

I said no, Stardust. I’m not ditching you.

I’m not saying it wouldn’t work! I’m saying… I’m saying I won’t do it.

Maybe if we pretend to surrender… They can’t kill you until they get to the treasure.

[groans] Do not argue with me about calling it treasure right now…

We could wait until they dock with us and then—

[desperate] I know it’s not likely to work, Stardust, but what other options do we have?

No…No, I can’t do that.

I…I just can’t…I can’t!

[following them to the escape pod]

Stardust stop!

[ship] Escape pod activated.

Stop. [close] Just… Wait.

[ship hit again, alarm in the background still going off]

We’re only a few days out from the target, Stardust… Once they find it, they’re going to kill you.

We can keep going until they either back off or smash us apart… You don’t have to do this.

[ship shudder]

Fucking forget what I said! I’m telling you to stay.

You weren’t just a payday, okay? Now get back in your seat and—

[frustrated] Stardust—

[shudder a breath] Yeah, we almost made it…

They’re going to kill you. Don’t do this. Don’t go.

[pause, alarms and ship shudder background]

Three days…That’s a bad plan.

No, the tracking nanites are still active but they might be able to detect and eliminate them.

Fine. Fine! Yes. I can find you. Three days… I will find you.

[pod door whoosh]

[ship] Preparing escape pod.

[impact shudder, alarms, his shaking breath]

I am going to find you, Stardust.

Yeah… Because you’re my bounty. I told you I wouldn’t let you go without getting my cut, right?

I will find you. Just… try to stay alive until I do.

[door closes]

[ship] Escape pod release.

[sankiraizada]

Bandage to the Heart | Part - 1

Entry to the IPKKND 13th anniversary fiesta

Word Prompt : Jouska

"Khushi, do you think it is wise, what we are doing?" asked Payal, drawing her little sister's hand away from the ornate deep blue lehenga he was unfolding.

"What? Your Shaadi? If this is not wise enough, what else would you like to do? Ohho, Jiji! I never knew you were interested in live-in!" The aforementioned little sister widened her eyes while fighting a smile.

Payal smacked Khushi's head with her free hand.

"Nahi!" -

"Going ahead I would never hide anything from you Payal-ji. However big it is."

Akash is definitely the better of both of them. He is sincere and it shows in each promise he makes to her. Doesn't he deserve the same loyalty?

But what good would that do? On the day of the havan before their engagement, he walked into the house bearing the news of his marriage to Anjali-ji. Brought out thunders from Buaji. Disbelief and devastation in her Amma. Seems like both her daughters had bad luck with walking up to the wedding altar. Her Babuji surprisingly was strong considering the whole wedding was his plan. He huffed and looked away, but didn't shed a tear when he heard all that. What else could a paralyzed man do anyway.

Everything Shyam-ji had claimed sounded almost.. true. It was Buaji who hounded him and Khushi to be wedded. He didn't have enough time to process the situation when they got hastily engaged by the bedside of their very sick Babuji. He was an outsider in the haughty Raizada clan. He just wanted apnapan. He finally got enough courage to reveal the truth this day, heaven forbid he didn't, he couldn't go against his principles even if he was in a loveless marriage.

But Payal also noticed how he spoke about Khushi to their elders. Egging them on to hitch them up together. How he never involved any of his family from Lucknow even after the engagement. Who carries their Kundali in their work suitcase anyway? He could have denied the wedding firmly right from the start. Buaji could force Khushi citing her adoption, but she couldn't make Shyam-ji do anything he didn't want to do, could she?

Anyway, it's not as if Akash nor any other member of the family would believe an iota of whatever she would tell them against their beloved Damaad-ji.

Why is this so complicated? If only she could love Akash freely, not burdened by the truth she's holding from him.

Khushi is technically her little sister. But she has seen more of the world than herself. Stood up for the family in need of a head. Has been cheated on. Takes up the challenges life throws at her with a smile and a quick prayer to her Devi Maiyya.

She's always been there for her chutki and supported her through numerous "disasters" that keep following Khushi Kumari Gupta wherever she goes. But today strangely she is the one feeling exposed to vultures in Shaantivan. Her sister has no business hanging about in this place come tomorrow and she can't think of a way to keep her support system to herself for the rest of her life.

Nightmares of her soon-to-be MIL keep her up at night anyway but it is Shyam who worries her truly. She couldn't pin upon anything unseemly in his behaviour since he left Laxmi Nagar, but who was she kidding? He seemed harmless while he was living with them too, at least till the truth came out. And had she not sensed his veiled threat? (Bhale hi her Amma and Buaji saw that as no more than an unwelcome consequence). Of Payal's marriage prospect crumbling if the Raizada's knew.

God knows what he would do or make her do by dangling the truth over her head. He's not truly in love with this family, is he? It's she who would suffer. Something had to be done here.

"Khushi, woh hum soch rahe the ki.."

"Yeh woh kuch nahi." Khushi came and sat by her sister who was lost in her train of thought.

"I know what's going on in your head. Waise if I say something it would be chhoti muh badi baat, but I will say it anyway. One thing I've understood by hanging around Arnav Singh Raizada is this. Be selfish in the matters of your family. And Akash Jiju is going to be your family in a few hours. Your relationship with him should matter the most. What good would it do if this wedding stopped now? Let him become your Pati and tell him whatever you want then. He is a good man. And smart. He would see the truth. And I have given my Maiyya murti to you. She would be with you always."

"Shyam-ji wouldn't dare put a toe out of the line under this roof with Arnav-ji and Jijaji around. But don't wait around until he does something irreversible. Hell, even if he doesn't, you should speak to Jijaji about this. If your husband can't understand and trust you, who would? If he can't share your pain and burden, who else would, Jiji?"

"He adores his Di. He has to know if you have something to share about her. But all in good time. Whenever you are ready."

Payal blinked and stared at her sister. Relief and resolve spread through her chest as she thought about what to do. Gently she cupped Khushi's face and kissed her forehead.

P.S. I know OG Khushi loves being in denial and would like to close her eyes and pretend there's no problem.. or justify being quiet by telling herself she should give Shyam a second chance for the sake of Anjali's marriage.. but here I just wanted to explore a little of what happens if these characters were just a bit more.. vocal. Thanks for reading!

P.S. P.S. This is my first attempt at posting something I wrote please be kind 🥹

@arshifiesta

>> part - 2

[biiedwin8]

What is the Difference Between Jouska Syndrome and Maladaptive Daydreaming?

Today, I'll be answering the question of what the difference is between Jouska syndrome and Maladaptive daydreaming. I'll explain the distinction and also delve into why we sometimes don't need to know too much about syndromes, emphasizing what we should focus on.

The difference between Jouska syndrome and maladaptive daydreaming lies in the control aspect. Jouska syndrome is similar to a nervous habit where you engage in conversations in your head or hypothetical dialogues before actual conversations. For example, if you are about to meet your boss or your mom and you're nervous about talking to them due to a strained relationship or social anxiety, you might end up imagining how the conversation will unfold. This can be a normal way of preparing for a conversation, a form of brainstorming, or a tool to enhance communication skills.

On the other hand, daydreaming involves creating imaginary or vivid scenarios and playing them out in your head, constructing an imaginary world or intricate storylines. Both talking to yourself before a conversation and daydreaming are considered normal habits. However, the critical aspect is the control element—when these behaviors become uncontrollable or compulsive, they turn into maladaptive behaviors.

Maladaptive behaviors, whether associated with Jouska syndrome or daydreaming, indicate a compulsive nature that has evolved into an unconscious habit. While I'm not particularly fond of labeling things as syndromes, it's essential to view behaviors through the lens of how they impact real life or serve as a means of escaping from underlying issues.

Instead of fixating on the behavior itself, the focus should be on identifying the root causes of the addiction or compulsion. Whether it's Jouska syndrome, maladaptive daydreaming, or any other behavior, if it becomes uncontrollable, it suggests an underlying, unconscious pain or emotion that needs addressing. Trauma, unhealed wounds, underlying emotions, negative beliefs, or unresolved issues from the past may be hindering you from living in the present.

In essence, rather than getting lost in classifying behaviors, concentrate on understanding and dealing with the compulsive or addictive nature of the behavior. By addressing the root causes, you can regain control of your present life, ensuring that past issues don't dictate your present behaviors.

Note from the Author

If you’re ready and you’d like my help with overcoming and managing your maladaptive daydreaming without spending years in therapy, then you can book a FREE BREAKTHROUGH CALL with me HERE. Happy healing 💙💙. Feel free to share and comment! Use this information with caution, it comes from my own thoughts & bias, experiences and research😊.

[belovedbow]

Was recently relistening to Jouska's Vampire Hunter playlist to fall asleep (again, thank u for cursing me), and I had completely forgotten that the vamp used to take pics of the hunter. Had a sleepy moment of like, damn...why's he stop doing that...men are fickle...UNTIL I remembered the hunter is actively holding his phone hostage. and it's a whole plot point. Lmao. Anyway. Can't stop picturing the Hunter forlornly like, "damn...no more pics of me...what are we anymore..." while the vampire is actively bitching about no phone, they're turning him into a luddite, this is human rights abuses, etc. Thank u for enabling this.

(ur welcome)

ahahha, i saw his photos as his way of keeping a memory of the hunter and that was before he admitted to himself that he cared about them so he'd only take them when they were vulnerable. i dont remember if vampires can have their pictures taken in this world, but if they can't then whew the added angst

[trailblczed]

✧ lyssamania: the irrational fear that someone you know is angry with you.

@frostgnawd asked: jouska: a hypothetical conversation that you compulsively play out in your head. obscure sorrows drabble prompts ( 1 + 2 ) | Not Currently Accepting.

Caelus is used to hearing voices in his head. There's Nanook's voice, who is often very passionate, the rougher more stern tone definitely giving off the authority an Aeon should have. There's Quilpoth' voice, who doesn't talk all that often, but when THEY do, it's usually in a dire situation or when the Nameless is about to collapse ( sometimes from his narcolepsy, other times when he's roughed up after a fight ) and THEY give him a reminder to find somewhere to sit down that is easy enough for the family, or friends, to find him. There is Xipe's voices, which often confuses him because THEY sometimes sound like other Aeons. Xipe is often gentle or supportive whenever they speak, and THEIR word choice is the only real way Caelus knows it's THEM. Aha, for some reason, occasionally pops in to either crack a joke or to tease and jab at the Trailblazer.

Caelus can, but is not nearly as used to, hear the Stellarons they have come across. The voices are usually faint, and typically not directed at him. It's more like Caelus is listening in on a conversation that he is not apart of. Oddly enough, the lad has never heard the Stellaron in his chest speak. Or maybe it is the reason why he can hear other Stellarons- but he doesn't like thinking too hard into that.. for what reason the one in him in silent, or has simply yet to present itself. It is him? Is his own voice inside his head actually the Stellaron? Does Caelus even have a conscience? Is Caelus the Stellaron itself, and that's why it's never been heard?

So yes, Caelus is very used to voices speaking to him. However... it's sometimes hard to tell when the voices are THEM, or if it's Caelus' own inner voice to where he's talking to himself. Right now is a perfect example of confusion. Who is speaking.. is it him? Or is it THEM?

Talk about a rough day. Honestly, Dr. Ratio is too much sometimes. True, but he is taking time out of his day to give me some basic educational lessons. It is nice of him, for sure. But you have to wonder.. is he actually fine with doing this? Surely, such a renowned scholar as him has to be busy with all kinds of things right? He said he would teach me all kinds of stuff. He often says stuff about wanting to brighten the minds of the ignorant- or something like that. Also true. So maybe this is just a typical day for him. The idea of the professor running around throwing chalk at people for getting an answer wrong is hilarious. Would he actually go that far though? Not likely- or I hope not. I'd rather not find out, especially if it's true. Aeons knows I'd be getting a powered smack down.

..Dr. Ratio doesn't hate me, right? No.. No, I doubt he'd waste his time and effort on teaching me stuff if he did. ...What if he hates me so much for being so dumb that he's only doing it out of spite. Wanting to enlighten a buffoon like me because he hates my lack of knowledge. No, he isn't like that. He may be a bit rough with his words sometimes, but he's always been patient and thorough in his explanations. Yeah but it's not like I am the easiest person to teach. It is probably such a hassle having to always stop and be so meticulous so often.

.....Vertias isn't angry with me, is he? Annoyed maybe. To spend all that time and energy just to have to start all over again each session.. who wouldn't be? Surely if he was mad about it he would say something, right? He doesn't usually mince his words. Also true. His praises are also a little rare, but you know he means every word.

...Maybe I should just ask him next time if he is mad at me. Or just ask if he'd rather not basically be a personal tutor. ... Does he even get paid for all his lessons that he's been giving me...? Oh Aeons. Maybe he hates me for that. Surely money isn't an issue or real concern for him.. in this instance, at least. Yeah, we're buds, right? Not super close on a personal level or anything but..

How close can you be with someone that basically had to teach you your ABCs? Can't deny we don't have some sort of bond though! Maybe it's one of reluctant annoyance at having to teach me something so common knowledge... Maybe he's mad at me for that? Yeah that would make sense.. plus, he looked so.. off kilter last time I seen him. He could just be having some work troubles, or some personal stuff going on. I ain't nosy-- not that nosy. Other people aren't so open book like I am, so I can't just ask him about that kind of stuff.. Of course, if he wanted to confide in me, I would absolutely lend an ear- or a helping hand, should it be needed and I was able.

Is he mad at me because I wouldn't be a good enough confidant? What if he wants an assistant but is annoyed that I won't be a good aide despite all the things he's taught me?

❛ Enough. ❜

Caelus huffs out between sharp breaths, hands tangled in silver locks as he tugs at it in an effort to snap himself out of... whatever that was. It takes a few moments to pry his own fingers out of his hair, not wanting to actually ( accidentally ) yank some of the strands out. It also takes several seconds for him to remember that he was still on the Trailblazer's Stern ( it may be the Feldspar still to the public, but it will forever be the Stern to him ). He had stopped by for a visit to talk with his "Second Mate", who wanted to run a few thoughts and reports by him. Of course Caelus would come stop by as soon as possible.

Now he is just confused as to how he went from talking stats and thinking about decor to becoming increasingly more paranoid about being, apparently, hated by one Doctor Vertias Ratio. Perhaps it was just because the lad had spotted the lavender aboard the ship not too long ago, becoming an unfortunate victim of Caelus' increasing exhaustion messing with his head.

All Caelus wants to do is take a nap. And quite frankly, why shouldn't he? He is his "office" on the ship, there are guests and crew aboard, and the Trailblazer has earned a little treat. Not as if he really has any say in the matter, his eyes already struggling to stay open as he leans over far enough that gravity takes him- his body bouncing as it lands against his soft couch.

I̷n̷f̷o̷r̷m̸ ̴a̷ ̴c̶o̵m̴r̷a̴d̶e̵ ̷o̸f̴ ̸y̴o̶u̴r̸ ̸l̷o̵c̸a̶t̶i̷o̵n̴ ̷a̵n̷d̷ ̴s̸i̴t̶u̵a̸t̶i̶o̴n̴ ̵b̶e̷f̸o̵r̷e̷ ̴y̸o̴u̷ ̵r̸e̸s̸t��.̵

❛ Yeah.. that'd be smart. ❜

The silver awkwardly shuffles his body around until he can fish his phone out. Several clumsy taps later, and Caelus manages to send a text to the family's group chat saying he was in his office on the stern, and that he was going to sleep for a bit, before tossing his phone out onto the small side table next to the couch.

Not even a minute after he sends the message, Caelus cannot keep his eyes open any longer, taking one of the pillows nearby and snuggling up with it, and promptly passes out.

[missmonsters2]

—JOUSKA | THREE

Pairing: Wednesday Addams x OFC/Fem!Reader

Summary: Something and nothing at all changed. Wednesday is all too aware of the distance and the horrifying realization that if she wants to be closer, than she'll have to make the first move. Cue compulsively replaying a hypothetical conversation.

Warnings: Angst. Distracted!Wednesday. Wednesday generally being Bad At Feelings™️. Enid's wise words. Thing—the opportunist. Xavier absent but still not safe from Wednesday's roasts. Blood.

Series Masterlist | Library Blog | AO3

Reminder there’s no taglist but you can follow my library blog for notifications 💘

Note: This was intense to write, but it'll only get more intense! Likes, comments, & reblogs appreciated 🥺

Part Two

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷†⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

Jouska: Noun. A hypothetical conversation that you compulsively play out in your head.

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷†⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

Something and nothing at all has changed since that night. 

"Hi, Wednesday."

Wednesday's eyes catch yours as she watches you flanked by two gorgon girls. You've got a white stick of a lollipop hanging in your mouth at the side, the grape confection already finished, but you don't like littering (unlike some of these other heathens at the academy).

Wednesday doesn't say anything back, but she does slow her walking down subtly, her brows relaxes and expression neutral as she looks at you. A nod of acknowledgment is all that is needed to satisfy you as you smile at her before looking away.

It's been like that since that night—the same acknowledgment, and it's all Wednesday can think about.

They've bonded, haven't they? Enid certainly said so. And if that was the case, why were you the same distance away? 

Wednesday can only think back to that night. 

"Black wings are the mark of a night faerie."

Wednesday doesn't rush her response. This was one of those moments, the one Enid was constantly telling her to be delicate about. 

The right words—Wednesday needed the right words.

It reminded her of when she first encountered the photo of herself from Rowan, and how she, too, thought she was destined for (bad) calamity. 

"Sometimes the dark doesn't cause calamity but rather is what no one expects at all," Wednesday looks at you, her eyes focused. "The solution."

But even as you give Wednesday a soft smile, she can see something dim behind your eyes, and the taste of utter defeat burns Wednesday's throat, knowing it wasn't the exact right words.

So, Wednesday was at a standstill. 

And she was also far from finding a nickname for you that she'd allow everyone to call you. The only bright side was everyone else was somehow doing worse than her with their suggestions despite her not having offered anything at all. 

There was a distance, Wednesday realizes. One that you seemed content to let be. 

Wednesday feels jolted by the realization that she's been fairly spoiled and blessed in her life (even if she didn't feel it at the moment). It had always been Wednesday who chose to keep her distance from those around her. She had her own interests and had been content to put them above everyone else. 

But ever since coming to Nevermore, her little ragtag of misfits—especially Enid—had intrusively barged into her personal space. Wednesday only had to take a small step forward, and everyone else had closed the distance. 

Everyone except you.

Wednesday Addams would never deny the fact that she wasn't free from things like desire. She desired many things: rain, mysteries, victory, the fear of others, and whatever things could be described as morbid.

She told her mother that she would never be like her—never fall in love, be a housewife, or have a family. And she had meant it at that moment (although she was very sure she'll never be a housewife). 

And really, it's not like Wednesday loves you or anything. But Wednesday has once felt enough to kiss a boy (who turned out to be a serial killer), and when she thinks of Enid, Eugene, and Xavier, she does feel like she has a strange little group to call a family of her own. She begrudgingly accepts Bianca to something like a distant, irritating cousin.

You piqued her curiosity very early on with your unintrusive smiles and waves. Now, you had an enigmatic background and a perhaps sense of self-preservation to remain distant. But it was too late. 

Wednesday desires mystery, and she desires you. 

They're not mutually exclusive.

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷†⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

Blood drips down from Wednesday's cheek. She touches her finger to the cut and looks at it curiously.

"You're distracted, Addams." 

Wednesday looks back to Bianca, who somehow manages to look both smug and concerned. While being beaten by Bianca again still leaves the feeling of self-pity, her rage is directed at herself. 

"And yet, you barely managed to defeat me," Wednesday drawls. 

"Well, pull your head out of the dark, gray clouds and focus so I can put you in your place again without your excuses," Bianca shoots back without hesitation. 

Wednesday starts to move into position when the coach halts it and tells her to go to the infirmary to take care of her cut. Clenching her jaw, Wednesday puts her equipment away and leaves the room. 

The cut stings, and Wednesday knows it was her own fault that Bianca cut her too deep. She was distracted. She has been lately ever since her realization that if she wanted to close the distance, she would have to be the one to intrude in your space. 

The problem was that Wednesday only knew how to intrude into someone's space when she was suspicious they were a serial killer—accusing and without permission. 

And thus, Wednesday has been afflicted with hypothetical conversations her brain refused to stop producing. It was costing her sleep, and now the victories that should belong to her. 

"Wednesday!" 

Turning around, Wednesday sees Enid skipping her way down toward her. The blonde frowns when she glances at Wednesday's cheek and pulls out a white handkerchief. It’s the only colorless fabric she owns. "Fencing?"

Wednesday nods, accepting the cloth as she dabs it against her face, wiping at her jaw where it dripped.

"Lose?" Enid winces in pain. 

A dark look crosses Wednesday's face, and Enid quickly changes the subject. 

"Are you excited for parents' weekend?" Enid asks. "I'm surprised Principal Weems has made it so early in the year. I hear she's making changes so parents visit once at the beginning of the year and once at the end of the year."

"If by excited you mean begrudgingly accepted it, yes," Wednesday monotones.

"But it'll be interesting to see who the fairy godmother's parents will be, right?" Enid rocks on her toes in anticipation. "I heard her dad is, like, a high lord or something."

The comment does spark interest in Wednesday. She is curious about the two people who had loved you so much that they took you out of isolation and parted ways with you in this safe haven. 

Assuming that they could visit you, anyway.

"That's also a witless sobriquet," Wednesday comments absentmindedly.

Enid only huffs. 

"Enid," Wednesday calls evenly.

"Hm?"

"How—why—" Wednesday takes a deep breath as her eyes close for a moment. When she opens them, she finds Enid staring at her curiously with an amused smile. Wednesday knows it was because she’s never this inarticulate, but Enid is gracious enough to not say anything about it and waits patiently for her to gather her thoughts. 

As patiently as she can, it seems.

"Not to rush you, but you should probably hurry on and say whatever it is you want to say so you can get on to the infirmary. The cut is starting to soak through my handkerchief," Enid gently pushes. 

Wednesday grinds her teeth for a second before sighing through her nose lightly. 

"How did you decide on how you wanted to be closer to me?" Wednesday asks, leaving as much emotion out of her tone as possible but cringing at her sentence. "Especially since it was obvious I wanted to keep my distance."

Enid's lip twitches, and Wednesday already regrets asking, but before she can turn around and leave, Enid answers. "Well, in your case, I think it was easier for me to tell you didn't really want to be alone, so I didn't ask."

Wednesday makes a vague face of disgust while Enid continues on. 

"But in your case," Enid stresses, smirking at Wednesday's unblinking face. "I think you should ask to do something together to be closer."

Wednesday's eyes flicker as she processes Enid's words. The memory of Tyler's efforts to take her to the catacomb, how he set up lights, and a movie pops into her mind. 

"Like a date," Wednesday says slowly, and horrification begins to set in.

"Er, I think that's a little too advanced for you," Enid cuts in quickly. "Maybe just try to find a way to spend more time together casually but consistently."

Enid looks at her watch. "Oh, I gotta go. Yoko and I need to start planning for the boat race this year." With that, Enid happily skips down the hallway. She turns around once and yells, "Oh, don't forget to wash the blood out of my handkerchief. I trust you'll know how to do that!"

Wednesday nods before she continues on her way to the infirmary. When she enters, she sees Weems talking to someone sitting on a cot behind the curtains. 

"I'm happy you've found a friend to help you, but I'm concerned—" Weems stops as soon as she sees Wednesday, frowning as she sees the cut and then sighs, "Coach Vlad had told me you and Bianca frequently spared without your helmets. I had hoped he was joking."

The curtains suddenly opened, and Wednesday wasn’t surprised. She could tell it was you by your silhouette. 

Immediately the hypothetical conversations she's been creating pops into her mind again.

"Hi, Wednesday," you smile with a short wave before you eye her cut. "Hope the other person looks worse off."

Weems clicks her tongue in disapproval, but Wednesday's lip twitches upward slightly. 

The principal is about to say something else when a small, lanky boy walks in. He clutches his wrist, but Wednesday can’t make out his feature with his overgrown fringe covering his eyes. He seems to see just fine, though, as his posture stiffens at the sight of you.

"O-Oh, F-Fae," he starts to say but then stutters. "No, sorry, I-I mean—"

"It's fine," you wave away his attempt at saying your name. "Did you hurt yourself in psychitect?"

He nods.

"I suppose I should go find the nurse. She went down to the cafeteria for a quick snack," Weems says before she looks at you. "We'll finish our conversation later."

"It's fine," you wave it off. "I can help Wednesday. We’ll be gone before you’re back."

Weems purses her lips in disapproval, but you just give her a look back. Sighing, Weems nods before she turns to walk out. "Glad to see you fitting in more this year, Wednesday. It's pleasant to see you in my office less."

"It's too early in the year still," Wednesday haughtily replies, eyes trailing Weems as she leaves the room. 

"Come along, Henry."

Once alone, Wednesday's eyes trail to you. 

"Well, take a seat," you stand up and gesture to the cot near her as you rummage through the cabinets. 

"I can do it myself."

"I'm sure you can," you absently say as you move bottles back and forth in search of something. When you find it, you turn around with a lopsided smile. "But I assure you I can do it better."

Wednesday only raises her eyes challengingly but sits down as you sit on the stool and roll over to her. She sits primly with her back straight as a rod when you come closer and closer. To allow your proximity, Wednesday has to open her legs for you to come between, being the one wearing pants. 

"Pretty nasty cut," you mumble, and Wednesday can smell grape lollipops. 

"I've had worse."

"Bragging, I see," you smirk as you put on gloves and use tweezers to soak a gauze pad in saline solution. "Xavier did tell me you took an arrow for him once."

"Xavier has an abnormally large mouth," Wednesday speaks tersely with a furrow of her brows. When you gently dab the soaked gauze pad on her cheek, it doesn’t sting, but Wednesday clenches her fists closed with your face so close. 

"I think he was bragging," you continue to dab. "Enid and Eugene have similar anecdotes. Thing, as well."

Wednesday huffs while you merely grin lightly. 

Enid's words and Wednesday's haunted hypotheticals were plaguing her again. 

"What were you and Weems talking about?" Wednesday asks to redirect the conversation. She had been curious since she walked in, as it seemed like a rather serious conversation. 

The thoughts aren’t going away.

"She was checking in after I told the nurse I had a friend to help me apply the medicine, and I'd only come in to do monthly examinations or if something serious happened."

Sometimes Wednesday isn’t used to people answering her questions so quickly and without pretense. She’s used to them being defensive. 

'Thing shouldn't be applying your medicine.' Wednesday clenches her jaw, refusing to let the thought slip out of her mouth. With you in sight, her mind refuses to stop the compulsive hypothetical conversations.

"I see," Wednesday says slowly. "And why is Weems so particularly concerned?"

"She's my legal guardian," you answer straightforwardly, inspecting Wednesday's wound as the bleeding slows. 

The sudden new information makes Wednesday blink. 

'If you use your brain and think about it, Thing is a disembodied hand with stitches all over. Do you think that's sanitary? Forget the fact that Thing is vain and does well in washing his hand and moisturizes.'

You put down the tweezers and take off the gloves. Lifting your fingertips, you hover them over the cut. Wednesday watches as you concentrate before warmth and tiny little firefly-like lights seeps onto her cheek. 

When it’s over, the sting of the cut is gone. Wednesday lifts her hand to touch her cheek and feels a thin bump of her skin scarred over. 

'I understand your need for secrecy. I've been told I lack regard for others’ safety but I have no intentions of being the reason for your untimely death.'

You turn to grab a tub of cream and unscrew the lid. "It's not exactly perfect, but better than the usual way," you say as if apologizing. "I'll get better at it as my wings heal."

"Your powers are linked to your wings?"

'And of course, I understand you don't prefer the nurse's care. Her touch is indelicate and I imagine your wings are sensitive.'

You hum and say quietly, "A lot of it, yes. Our wings are embedded into our backs and take root inside our bodies. It's why we usually die without our wings."

"And Weems is your guardian?" 

You nod. "Yes. As you know faeries stay in isolation, and faeries with my wings are...outcasts," you smirk. "My parents can't look after me like regular parents do because the more in contact with me they are, the more it exposes my location."

It makes sense. Whoever had done such abominable things to your wings should stay far, far away—lest they want Wednesday to find a way to paralyze them without taking their wings. 

Still.

Wednesday studies your face as you apply the scarring cream. Your parents must've been heartbroken and scared witless to take you out of isolation and have Weems take over guardianship. 

'As such, I must take responsibility for Thing and offer to take his place in applying your medication. This is an acceptable trade, is it not?'

"Your parents must've adored you so," Wednesday comments. She can certainly relate to that as she internally rolls her eyes at the thought of her own parents. 

You finish applying the cream, and Wednesday has had enough of the repetitive one-sided conversation in her head. It was going to drive her crazy—and not the respectable kind. 

But just as Wednesday opens her mouth to get it over with, her words die on her tongue when you look at her.

It was the same smile as that night, the one that made Wednesday's throat burn with utter defeat.

You must miss them. 

"Yes, I suppose they did."

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷†⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

Wednesday lies in bed, staring at the ceiling, and the incessant noise of Enid's snoring is somehow amplifying her thoughts.

This. Is. Inconceivable. 

The thing with Wednesday is that she had an obsessive personality. That's why solving mysteries is such a good pastime for her. 

The only problem is when the mystery hasn't been solved, and she is left alone with the agonizing cliffhanger. 

What if the words hadn't died on her tongue? 

What if she had said them anyway, despite your smile that seemed to make Wednesday miserable. 

But the truth of the matter is that she didn't, and now, she is stuck in bed coming up with new hypothetical conversations that revolve around one matter.

'Thing is indisposed.'

'I'm offering my company and assistance. Thing may stay as an additional conversationalist.'

'Surely, you must have more to say to me daily than greeting me.'

'Thing has questionable scalpel skills; therefore, I believe he's been applying your medication inaccurately. I can't have your wings—your life source—healing poorly on my hands.'

This is all Enid's fault, Wednesday determines. She turns her head to watch her peacefully, blissfully ignorant sleeping roommate. 

Maybe she should come through with the threat of smothering Enid with a pillow. But in the end, Wednesday turns her head back to the ceiling. 

It’s then that Thing opens the door and scuttles across the room in haste. She sits up as he climbs up onto her bed and pulls at her blanket.

"What is it, Thing?" Wednesday frowns.

Thing begins signing and tapping.

"Speak clearly, Thing. You're skipping words."

Thing taps frustratedly but slows down.

"Someone…slapped…back today?" Wednesday raises her brow but then frowns deeper. "It opened a wound up...and you can't fix it yourself? Need help...now?"

Thing taps multiple times to signify that is correct. Immediately, Wednesday gets out of bed and grabs her sweater. 

"Where is she? Her room or her studio?" Wednesday asks as she shoves on her shoes, and Thing climbs onto her shoulder.

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷†⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

When Wednesday arrives at your studio, following the same sequence she did weeks ago, she finds you fallen on the ground, your wings just barely over your shoulder as you hold yourself up by your elbows.

Blood drips down and soaks your feathers, somehow making obsidian look even darker. 

Wednesday walks up quickly and crouches beside you, and you barely notice her until she speaks. "Who did this to you? I want their name." She seethes.

"It was...an accident," you raggedly breathe. "She didn't know. Meant to be a friendly goodnight clap on the back."

But that doesn’t soothe Wednesday at all. Not when the back of your dress shirt is dredged in so much blood that there isn’t even a spot of white left, and your right wing twitching in obvious pain.

"What can I do?" Wednesday demands, but there was a softness to it that is almost desperation. 

You swallow. "I—I need you to move my wing over my shoulder more—until I can reach the cut to seal it." You screw your eyea shut. "I can't move it on my own."

Wednesday nods. She carefully reaches out to touch your wing.

It is velvety.

Wednesday imagines it would've been more magnificent to the touch had your feathers not been weighed down and saturated by blood. 

As Wednesday begins to spread your wing up and over, your breath hitches sharply.

Wednesday stops.

"Don't stop," you grit your teeth, taking in ragged breaths. "It hurts the longer you drag it out. Just—be gentle."

Gentle is not often used to describe Wednesday. She’s sharp and jagged, like broken glass. That's probably why she still plans to discover who did this to you and slowly butcher them—accident or not—as she carefully keeps moving your wing.

When it’s finally close enough for you to reach, Wednesday watches you use healing magic for the second time that day. You slump onto the grass, exhausted. 

Thing grabs Wednesday's attention to the pile of towels neatly folded in a tree's hollow trunk. She finds a set of spare clothing and grabs those along with the towels. 

"Is the pond water sterile?"

You nod with your eyes shut.

Wednesday places the shirt next to you and then turns to the pond, and sticks her hand in to find it was lukewarm before she soaks one of the towels.

“Change into this clean shirt for now,” Wednesday orders you but her tone lacks the usual bite. She wrings the towel and passes it to Thing. “Help her wipe the blood on her back. Turn around as she changes,” Wednesday warns Thing.

Wednesday turns away and keeps her focus on the pond, soaking the next towel. Thing taps her leg when they’re done. You look extra tired from having to change shirts but it was better than letting your bloody shirt make you sticky and then crust over before you could shower. You seem to realize it yourself as you make an effort to keep your dirty wings from soaking your shirt again.

When she returns to you, Wednesday cleans the blood out of your feathers gently but thoroughly. When she uses her fingers to brush aside some of the feathers, your wings trill. 

"Tickles," you mumble. 

Wednesday doesn’t comment as she continues until the blood is washed out and properly dried. Thing hands her the ointment you use and begins to apply the salve with precision. 

It’s quiet.

Peaceful.

Wednesday feels the tension in her shoulders leave now that you are fine and she is here. 

All those hypothetical thoughts and conversations flew right out of her head.

"I will apply this for you from now on."

You open one eye to peek at Wednesday, and she stares back at you as if to challenge her. You close your eye again and nod.

"Thanks for your services, Thing," you mumble tiredly. "Your severance package will be a bottle of dew drops."

PART FOUR

[kryptonitejelly]

Rules: Tag 10 people you wanna get to know better!

Thank you for tagging me in this @arsonhotchner <3

Favorite time of the year: autumn (i am a sucker for being able to be warm and wrapped up; but not the kind where i am frozen to the bone)

Comfort food: anything with carbs in it, but maybe pasta, or instant korean ramen from the packet

Do you collect anything? bags, watches, rings and braclets (i am a consumer, i know) aaaaaand a tiny collection of vinyl figurines from blind boxes (it’s my safe, less risky version of gambling)

Favourite drink: ice cold water (i won’t drink it if it isn’t cold), half and half from shake shack (literally will walk in just to get that and nothing else), fizzy apple juice, wine that is bone dry

Favourite song / artist: drops of jupiter came to mind, and wonderwall - i’m not sure why, but maybe because if those come on i sing them out loud and stick them on repeat for a while

Current favourite songs: (still is) I Ain’t Worried, Great Balls of Fire - the Miles Teller version (lol top gun) and honeypie

Favourite fics: i honestly don’t know how to answer this because i can’t name them all, but off the top of my head - jouska, 7 minutes in hell, crash (into me), a joyful future, yes, mr. president, lifelong and unconventional (yes, all a series of sorts)

Tagging (0 pressure tags pls know this) - @ssahotchnerr @ssamorganhotchner @wheelsupkels @vintagesubmariner @obiwankenobis-lap @sebsxphia @writercole @fuckyeahhangman @katieslotherford @minilpark @helloimhereforabit @bradshawbaby @bradshawswife @dadbodhotch11 @aaronhotchy @doctorstethoscope @indynerdgirl @katebishopsbow @mavswife

[jouska-the-deer]

People still suck at writing Sonic the Hedgehog

Interpretations of Sonic outside of media made by Sonic Team often seem either unable or unwilling to reconcile the fact that Sonic is both kind-hearted and intelligent, but I think I've noticed a recent shift in the way writers try to reconcile it.

In general, there seems to be this belief that smart people are inherently more pessimistic toward the world and that kind people are inherently more naive towards it. So, when writing for a character who's both smart and kind, less knowledgeable writers end up flanderizing them in one of two ways:

The first way, which is how Sonic was interpreted in Sonic Boom and prior, is making the character act like a jerk who knows best. At worst, they'll be outright rude towards their closest friends, but any criticism they get for it will be ignored because their opinions are always correct in the eyes of the narrative. At best, they'll sometimes make mistakes and learn lessons about being nicer to other people, which is something their non-flandarized self wouldn't have struggled with.

The second way, which is how Sonic is interpreted now, is making the character a saint who solves everything with friendship. At worst, they'll give absolute tyrants a million chances, but any criticism they get for it will be ignored because their opinions are always correct in the eyes of the narrative. At best, they'll sometimes make mistakes and learn lessons about certain people being unwilling to change, which is something their non-flandarized self wouldn't have struggled with.

You may have noticed I straight up copy/pasted a couple bits of those last two paragraphs. Well, that's because those bits reveal a bit of truth in how Sonic is portrayed by Sonic Team. Sonic's opinions are always correct in the eyes of the narrative, because of the lessons he no longer struggles with. Sonic already learned to balance his desire to give people a second chance with the fact that some people just have to be stopped. When? Since the very beginning. Sonic has always been trying to defeat Eggman for good while also giving second chances to people who he thinks deserve it.

But how do you deal with people who are causing so much harm when you still think they deserve a second chance? Guess what? Sonic answered that straight up in Sonic Adventure 1.

Do me a quick favor and if you can listen to Open Your Heart, specifically the Sonic Adventure 1 version (Click here). You may notice that there're two distinct sets of vocals; One clean and high pitched, and one distorted and low pitched. (And if you're wearing headphones the audio will even pan during the chorus.) For context, this is the song that plays while Sonic is fighting Chaos.

You can figure it out yourself from there, but if you want me to really dig into the topic, feel free to keep reading.

So like, I shouldn't have to say this, but the dark negative voice is Chaos' view and the light positive voice is Sonic's. But notably, they sing together during key points, specifically those related to the anger, sadness, and hopelessness that Chaos has been feeling for ages. Sonic has recognized that 1. imprisoning Chaos as suggested by Tikal wouldn't solve anything because, 2. Chaos is only acting this way due to being blinded by hatred for those he perceives as selfish monsters, and 3. he's still very much currently destroying the world and won't change his mind because he's lost hope that there's anything worth holding on to.

What does Sonic do then? Sonic may be an unstoppable force but Chaos is a seemingly immovable object. Well, he literally uses the positive energy from his friends and within himself to stop Chaos' rampage and prove that there are still good people in the world that want to maintain peace. After he loses the fight, Chaos is able to calm down and see that the cute defenseless chao he'd been protecting ages ago had survived, living among the very people he had assumed could only be power hungry monsters. He's able to let go of his hatred and live a peaceful life understanding that good people still exist and the world is still worth protecting.

And that's where the question is answered. How do you deal with people who are causing so much harm when you still think they deserve a second chance? You do everything you can to stop them, and if they're still around afterward, show them that they didn't need to fight in the first place. But that only works if they had a good reason behind why they were fighting, and would have chosen peace otherwise.

Sonic wanted to give Chaos a second chance because he knew that violence was not truly in his nature. Had he not been forced into those specific circumstances, Chaos would have chosen peace.

And that's what separates characters who have done a lot of harm but Sonic still gave a second chance to like Chaos and Merlina, from those who have done a lot of harm but Sonic wouldn't give a second chance to, like Eggman and Erazor Djinn. The former wanted peace but became convinced that it was impossible, and the latter only wanted power and were willing to hurt others to obtain it. The characters who Sonic won't give another chance to have proven that when dealt a better hand, they'll still chose to hurt others solely for their own gain, because that's what they want. To stop them peacefully, Sonic would have to convince them to give up their true dreams.

And that, is why Sonic's opinions get to always be treated as right in the games, because they are right. He has an absolutely kind heart, a nuanced understanding of morality, and the integrity to never give in to selfish desires.

None of this means Sonic is always right, though. Most people already know of his impulsiveness, which is his greatest weakest, but also one of his greatest strengths. Sonic never waits to act, which is great when innocent people are seconds from mortal danger... but not so great when a situation looks to be one way but is actually another. He teases Eggman for pleading for a second chance in Unleashed and he kicks the Cacophonous Conch from Eggman's hand in Lost World, and both of those were massive mistakes.

But, despite making those mistakes, his mindset wasn't the problem. How was he supposed to know Eggman was a shockingly good actor leading him into a trap? How was he supposed to know the people Eggman was controlling with the conch were equally as evil? (Yes Tails tried to warn him but literally if he didn't Sonic wouldn't have looked stupid and it just shows how poorly written Lost World was overall.) Had Eggman actually been pleading and the Zeti good people, Sonic's actions would've been justified.

Still, those were mistakes, and Sonic always wants to do what's right, so he does what he can to fix his own messes. He restores the planet Eggman broke apart. He stops the Zeti from sucking the life out of the planet. Sonic always makes things right in the end, and so he has the right to be so confidant in his beliefs. So confidant in fact that he doesn't care about looking like the bad guy if it means doing the right thing. Oh look, there's a song about that too. From Sonic's fight with Merlina in Sonic and the Black Knight. (Click Here.) Don't be fooled by the feminine vocals, if you paid attention to the themes of the game, the song is clearly from Sonic's perspective.

So yeah, Sonic is kind but he's also smart. He won't let anyone change his mind on anything, but he doesn't need to change his mind because he follows his kind heart and compassionate soul. He doesn't worry about looking like the bad guy because he and his friends know his true nature. When he gets angry he lets his rage fuel his desire to save the day. He'll never shed tears of despair because he knows that if he keeps fighting he'll make things right in the end. Sometimes his impulsiveness gets him into trouble, but it also helps get him back out. No matter what happens to him, he'll always make it out in the end either through sheer determination or the help of his friends.

Sonic is absolutely silly; He makes dumb jokes about his enemies and talks to himself when there's nobody around. Sonic is completely serious; He's willing to kill someone if it means saving the world and has felt multiple friends die before his eyes and in his arms.

Sonic is literally just some blue hedgehog who can run really fast.

Sonic is a god, and could kill god, and there is not a difference!

But most importantly, Sonic is all of those things at once. He is a wonderfully balanced character who's been right from the very beginning and has spent all his games sharing his wisdom with others simply by being himself. He isn't perfect, but that's not due to some personality flaw he needs to correct, but because nobody can always have all the answers and know how to avoid all potential mistakes.

The problem is, writing a character like this is hard. Writing conflicts for a character like this is hard. Most writers rely on making their protagonists work through relatable flaws to create an emotionally compelling story... but you don't need to do that. Sonic's conflicts are mostly external, but we care about him succeeding anyway because he's a good person who's just trying to live his life.

So really, if you wanna write Sonic well, you have to just let him speak for himself.

...By the way I mean that literally. Dude listen to his character theme it's all right there! (Click here.) Even when his theme was altered in Sonic Adventure 2 the only thing that changed was how confidently the same ideas were delivered. (Click here.) But seriously listen to literally any of the game themes, final boss themes, and ending themes. (I'm not linking all that.) No matter the quality of the games, if Sonic wanted to teach you something he was gonna teach it... through the power of having a music department detached from the nightmare that is game development time crunch.

And that's why Sonic Lost World is the worst Sonic game. Because it was so pointless that Sonic didn't have anything to sing about!

Wait... what was the point of this post again?

[dominimoonbeam]

Totally Normal Meet Cute Script - Part 2

warnings: it's not a normal meet cute script at all... it's a slasher. you're in a slasher. Happy Halloween!

Performed by Jouska over on his youtube and his patreon!

Part 2 - Slasher 101

[muffled hallway sounds]

Good morning, glasses.

[walking the halls together, background sounds, rain outside or muffled voices.]

Aw, you always look so grumpy in the morning… Here’s your coffee.

What do you do on days when your first class isn’t with me?

I know I don’t have to bring you coffee every time… But I’m picking up mine on the way so, why wouldn’t I grab yours? I’ve filled like two punch cards this month because of us.

Really, it’s selfish on my part. I need that brain of yours sharp, study buddy.

You—Wait, really? [smiling] You got me a muffin?

[bag crinkle] Cranberry orange? [pretends to choke up] Glasses, you sentimental softy! You do like me!

No, no, you can’t have it back. It’s mine and I will cherish every crumb.

[pause]

[smiling] Ouch. Drink your coffee. You always like me more after your first coffee.

What?

[serious] I can’t believe they still haven’t figured out what happened to that girl… Or arrested someone. Yeah, a guy in my building disappeared last week. No, it’s probably a prank. Everyone is so freaked out and they still haven’t found that couple from last month. If they ran off, someone should have heard from them by now, right?

I heard a theory that maybe the couple had something to do with Casey’s murder and made a run for it. I don’t know. It sounds like a stretch, doesn’t it? Why would they run when it doesn’t seem like the cops have made any connections. They hadn’t even found her body when the couple disappeared.

[stop walking]

Hm? A note on the door?

If class was canceled why not send a text? I could have slept in or we could have gone to breakfast. Oh… glasses, we can still go to breakfast. There’s a diner not far from— Why are you opening the door? The note says we’re free!

[laughing] Checking for assignments? If we have any assignments I’m sure we’ll get an email or…

[door opening, walking in]

Okay, yeah, the note on the door is pretty old school so why not—

Oh fuck! [dropping coffee and grabbing listener]

Don’t look. No, trust me.

It’s… It’s bad. Just… We’re backing out of the room. Okay, glasses? I’ve got you, just, walk with me.

[door closing, hall sounds] Okay. Okay, you can open your eyes. I’m sorry I grabbed you like that but… I didn’t want you to see that. It was…bad. Fuck. We… We have to get someone.

It was… Oh, god, I think it was that couple… They were propped up in the seats at the back of the room. Shit. Shit. Shit. Who the fuck would…

What? No, I’m not going to leave you here to guard the door. Someone… [whispers] Glasses, someone killed them and put them there. They weren’t…fresh.

I’ll stay here and make sure no one else goes in. You go find someone, okay?

Wait!

No. No, don’t.

I know it was my idea! But it was a bad one.

Because someone did that and they might not be far and… people disappear, remember? Casey was between classes and the couple was walking to the cafeteria when they vanished. I’m not going to send you off by yourself.

No, I’m calling the police. You can call the office and tell someone there.

What? Oh, your hand. Sorry, yeah, there you go, just don’t run off. I will chase you, glasses, and we both know you can’t outrun me.

Of course, joking would be inappropriate right now. Luckily, I’m not joking. I would sooner tackle you than let you out of my sight right now.

Thank you.

It’s ringing…

[on the phone] Hi. I… I think we found some bodies… Yeah, like the dead kind.

[sound fade]

-

[dorm room, maybe rain patter outside or low music]

[sounds of someone writing or typing]

[knocking]

[stops writing]

[knocking]

[glasses hesitates to answer]

[whisper yelling through the door] Glasses! Open up! [knocking]

[unlocks and opens door]

Oh, thank god. Let me in?

[smiling] Really? Why? Because I ran through the rain with all my worldly possessions to your doorstep. Have mercy!

Please, glasses. My whole dorm building got closed down. It’s a crime scene, I guess. They kicked everyone out.

I was going to crash at this other friends, but he’s already got three guys from my building sleeping there and I don’t want to be in that dogpile.

Please? Pleasepleaseplease?

I know you don’t have a roommate. I won’t get in your way. I’ll camp out on the floor. I’m great at camping. My dad used to take me on these weeklong trips in the woods.

[door opening wide]

Yay! Thank you! I promise, you won’t even notice I’m here.

[door closing and locking]

You are my savior! I owe you!

So, this is your room… Nice. This is bigger than I thought. Look at all this floor space, glasses. And you have a fluffy rug. It’s like it was meant to be.

Huh? Oh, the crime scene… Yeah they… they found the missing guy from my building. After what we found in the classroom the other day, I guess the cops were doing a more thorough search of the whole campus with… [winces] cadaver dogs. They found him in one of the basement storage rooms…

I don’t know. I didn’t see it and they weren’t telling us more than that when they kicked us out of the building. I think they want to search all our rooms, like they think it was a student that did it.

I got out of there with my shit before they could start doing bag checks on the way out.

Because I was hoping to find a place to crash before everyone else I know. Somehow those guys were still ahead of me…

Well, no, you weren’t my first choice.

[laughs] Don’t take offense! As much as you think that irritating you is my favorite hobby, it’s not. I’m trying to make you like me and hanging my wet hoodie on your door and snoring on your floor isn’t exactly the smartest move. …Although, getting to show you how I look shirtless and how cute I am when I wake up could be exactly what we need.

Maybe this was for the best.

No, not the murders, I’m not a monster. I meant my other friend’s floor space being filled.

By the way, cute pajamas. If I’d known we were having a slumber party, I would have at least worn something matching… I was in bed when they started kicking us out.

I think a bunch of them are bunking in the library.

[laughs] That does not sound like fun! It sounds drafty and creepy.

I would much rather sleep on your floor. Speaking of… do you have an extra blanket?

Perfect, thanks. [gasps] And a pillow? You really know how to treat a guy…

You even have a mini fridge and a microwave in here! Oh, we’re set. [pause] Is…Glasses, is that a nightlight?

Don’t hide it! It’s too late. I already saw it. And it was shaped like the moon!

No, it’s adorable! Leave the nightlight in.

Wait, you’re still studying? Shit, I thought for sure I’d be waking you up. No wonder you’re always such a grump in the morning. What time is your first class tomorrow? You know, assuming they don’t cancel those too.

My first class isn’t until ten, but I get up around seven to go for a run. Do you want to come with?

[laughs] I’ll take that look as a tentative maybe…

[settling in] This actually isn’t bad…

[glasses getting into bed. Light flicking off]

It’s a cute nightlight.

Don’t worry, glasses. I’m sure it’ll just be for one night. [yawns] But, you know, now that I know where you are and that you have your own microwave that doesn’t smell like someone’s overcooked tuna, I’ll probably be over more often.

[pause. falling asleep]

Hm? [serious. quiet] I didn’t really know him. I think he lived on the first floor but I’m not sure we ever met. …Do you think it’s really a serial killer like everyone is saying? I don’t think they’ve been able to find any connection between the victims. It’s like it’s just random.

No, you’re right. Somehow that’s scarier.

I don’t know. Some of my classes have already switched to online this week. I guess they could close the campus and send us home… Where’s home for you, glasses?

That’s far away.

Um… My dad had a place upstate.

No, I wouldn’t go home if they closed the campus.

I don’t know. Maybe I’ll crash with some friends in the city and wait it out? I mean, if there’s no one left on campus then our serial killer will have to branch out too, right?

What about you? Would you go home?

You could stick with me… Worst case scenario, we take that road trip we talked about.

[smiles] Okay, that road trip I talked about.

Really? You’ll consider it? Oh, glasses, you’re really into me now. [joking] It’s kind of embarrassing… You were so tough and mean when we started talking.

[laughs quietly] Okay, okay, I’m shutting up.

Good night, softy.

[stretch of muffled storm sounds]

[waking up. groggy] Glasses?

Did you turn out your nightlight?

[lamp switch flicking]

The power?

[muffled distant screams]

Yeah, I heard it.

[thump on the door]

[getting on the bed with listener]

[whispers] Shh, it’s okay. I’m right here.

No, hang on. It’s probably a prank. Those are the same screams you hear in the gymnasium when the lights go out. Some of the assholes from my building probably messed with the power in yours to scare people.

No, we’re not checking. We’re going to sit right here and just give it a minute.

Because even if it’s some guys being jerks, there is an actual killer out there somewhere and you are not going out there in the dark. It’s like, Slasher 101, glasses.

Shh, I know it’s dark.

No, don’t turn the light on on your phone.

Because… [sighs, still whispering] Because if there is someone creeping around in the hall, they might see it shine under the door.

Yeah, you can hang onto me. It’s going to be okay. We’ll just—

See, the light’s back on.

[laughter muffled through the halls]

[muffled voices in the hall outside] You guys are assholes! Go to sleep! That’s not funny!

[exhales a nervous laugh] See? Told you.

Yeah, I’ll admit, I’ve been with the assholes playing pranks enough times to see one coming…

Hey… Were you crying?

Oh, shit, glasses. No, it’s okay. Here, let me clean you up. You’re okay.

Yeah, just take a few deep breaths. I’ve got you.

Of course, I’m staying. I’ll be right there on the floor.

Stay… You mean on the bed?

Yeah. Sure. Here, lay down. [smiling, trying to lighten the mood] Do you want to be little spoon or big spoon?

[settling in together] Okay?

Yeah, of course I’m good. The only place better than your floor is your bed.

Get some sleep. I’m right here.

[laurensprentiss]

Jouska [Hotch x Reader]

Chapter 19:

A/N: Here it is besties, v sorry for this but I live to cause chaos!! They both have some growing and living to do over the next chapters which will span around ten years. Stick around it’s gonna be interesting! Also Hotch looks rlly good here hehe

Warnings: None, really. Swearing, mentions of pregnancy, heavy angst.

———

“I'm scared I'm going to spend the rest of my life in a state of yearning, regardless of where I am.” - Melina Marchetta

———

08:00

It happens slowly then all at once. He knows he feels lighter, physically, before he’s fully conscious - can’t feel the warm weight of you on top of him. He frowns as he slowly awakens fully, feeling for your body next to him.

When all he feels are sheets, he comes to, a little quicker, opening one eye to look around. When he doesn’t see you, he figures you left to go to the bathroom but a piece of paper on your pillow catches his eye.

He frowns as he sits up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes when the doorbell begins to ring incessantly. He looks between the door, the paper and then the door again, tucking the note underneath his pillow to come back to later. He takes a cursory look at the clock -

08:00

He runs downstairs with a grin, thinking maybe you went out to grab coffee and forgot you didn’t have a key, but when he opens the door, icy shock runs through his veins.

“Hi, Aaron.”

“Haley?” He replies stunned. He glances behind him, increasingly alarmed now as to your whereabouts.

She averts her gaze from Hotch’s half naked form, it’s nothing she hasn't seen before but there’s a barrier between them now. Even with what she’s about to tell him.

“Can we talk?”

“-This…. isn’t really a good time.” He replies, glancing behind him again. He uses his body to block what lies behind him, clothing littering the floor as evidence of last night. His cheeks run hot when he realises Haley already spotted it all.

“We need to talk. I wouldn’t have shown up like this, but she told me to come by at 8. Said I should talk to you.”

He frowns. “Who?” He asks, despite hazarding a very good guess he already knows the answer.

“Look, can I just come in? I'm really cold and this is incredibly awkward.”

He sighs, “Yeah- yeah come in.” He steps aside to let her in, picks his shirt up off the floor and begins to button it as he invites her to sit.

Haley tells him that she managed to track you down outside your apartment yesterday. His jaw ticks and he runs his thumb over his bottom lip, agitated. “Why would you do that?”

“I figured I owed her an apology. Ultimately I was the one who put her in danger with-” She licks her lips. “With him. I thought we should talk.”

“So you resorted to stalking?” He paces. He can’t figure out why you’d ask her to come by now, especially if you were going to spend the night last night.

“I know, I’m sorry.” She looks sick. “I kind of knew that you felt something for her, and I figured she probably did too. Clearly I was right.”

“I’m not doing this with you.”

She throws her hands up. “No! No, that's not what I meant. I need to tell you something but before I did, I needed to tell her, I owed her some courtesy after everything at least.”

He tilts his head and his eyes narrow. “Get to the point.”

She pulls out an envelope and slides it across the coffee table. She breathes shakily, nodding at it. “It’s all in there.”

He watches her quizzically, confused at her demeanour - she’s never been one to be at a loss for words. He takes a seat opposite, studying her as he peels open the envelope.

A sliver of cold panic works its way through his veins as he scans the page.

LABCORP DNA TESTING SERVICES

Sample 1 - BROOKS/HOTCHNER : Positive Match

Sample 2 - BROOKS/HOTCHNER : Positive Match

“What the hell is this?” He asks, his voice barely above a whisper.

She swallows thickly, abetting her gaze. “It’s a paternity test. I’m pregnant.” She tells him quietly.

His chest tightens and his head starts swimming. “What? I don’t believe you.”

“It’s right there on the paper. It’s yours.” She looks like she’s holding back vomit, the colour on her face drained. She studies Aaron for any kind of a reaction but he still looks confused.

“I want another one.” He tells her waving the paper. “How far along are you?”

“3 and a half months.”

“Wait,” He winces as the cold realisation hits him. “You told her?”

She nods.

The colour drains from his face and he shoots up from his seat, remembering everything he’d told you yesterday about how he would do things differently if he ever became a father. Knowing now what you knew then, he can’t begin to fathom what must have been going through your mind yesterday.

He shoots up the stairs three at a time, hoping he’s not too late.

———

06:00

Your eyes burn with the lack of sleep and the aftermath of your breakdown. You lay still against Aaron’s chest, your hand splayed flat against his skin. You’ve been watching him sleep for most of the night, memorising all you can about him, and imagining an alternate future where you could’ve ended up together.

But it doesn’t help. All it goes is drive a stake deeper into your heart because no matter how much you imagine, it doesn’t change your future. The sun begins to rise sure enough, a promise of another day but the lighter it gets, the more your stomach turns and the tighter your chest gets.

You pull Aaron in closer one more time, fusing your body to his and you close your eyes. His hands run down your bag gently as he stirs in his sleep. You take a minute to take him in one last time, despite your aching heart you try to hold onto the happiness you’d felt before it all came crashing down.

You doubt you’ll feel for anyone the way you feel for him. But you can’t be selfish, not now. You whisper to him, barely audible, the words you need to get off your chest and with a gentle kiss to his sleeping face, you slink out of his arms.

You gather your clothes, and from the credenza drawer downstairs, grab a pen and paper.

‘Dearest Aaron…’

Tears stain your face as you initial the bottom of the letter and with a final breath, you fold it and scrawl his initials on top. You reluctantly walk back upstairs and when you see Aaron’s peaceful face in a deep sleep, it takes everything in you to walk away. You place the note on your pillow, and turn away before you change your mind.

But as you approach the door, you turn to take one last look at him, willing your memory to hold on to this image, to the feel of him. To what it feels like to be loved by him.

“Goodbye Aaron.” You whisper.

———

08:30hrs:

He struggles to get his pants on, throwing on odd socks and grabbing the note on the pillow which he stuffs haphazardly into his three day old jacket. He runs down the stairs three at a time, passing Haley on the way as he grabs his keys.

She looks at him with panic and confusion. “Go back to the hotel, I’ll call you!” He tells her. She looks around, stunned as the door slams shut behind him.

He fumbles with his phone, dialling your number, but it goes straight to voicemail. He tries Emily but it goes to voicemail too. He dials the direct line to your assistant and on the last ring, she picks up.

“Agent Hotchner?”

“Leah?”

“Yeah? Is everything okay?”

He desperately asks if she has any idea of where you are today, if you have anything on your docket.

“Not that I can see, no. Is everything okay?”

“Look, can you find out if she’s home and call me?” He hangs up and purposely turns on the sirens to weave through traffic to your place. In a cruel twist of fate, he curses the numerous traffic logs he encounters on his way, thinking he’ll deal with the fallout of using his lights without reason later.

He finally turns onto your street, tires screeching as he pulls up behind a blacked out towncar, into which an older gentleman appears to be hauling suitcases. He doesn’t bother closing the door as he exits his SUV, his eyes trailing on the suitcases being piled into the trunk of the towncar when he hears your voice.

He stops in his tracks.

“Alright, James. I think that’s the last of the b-”

The air leaves your lungs when you catch sight of him. There’s a brief moment when you think you think you’re imagining him but your chest squeezes when you look at his face, halfway between confused, devastated and just plain betrayed.

He utters your name with a shaky whisper. “What is this? What’s going on?” He asks unsteady, already knowing the answer.

You hand your bags to James who ducks between you to receive them, the tension thick and heavy. “I’m sorry, I planned on…” You struggle for the words. “Being done earlier than this. This is what I wanted to avoid.”

He retreats, eyebrows shooting up. “This, what? You wanted to avoid saying goodbye to me? You couldn’t even extend me the grace of telling me you were leaving?” He pulls out your note from his pocket, shaking it in front of you. “You left this and thought it would be enough? After everything that happened with us.”

“Come on, Aaron. You know that’s not what I meant. But you know why I’m leaving, it’s why you’re here. And I knew you would do this, I knew you’d try and talk me out of going. That’s why I didn’t tell you.” You swallow the lump in your throat.

The desperation inside him starts to claw at him. “You don’t have to leave. We’re adults, we can figure this out.” He takes both of your hands tightly in his.

You shake your head. “I won’t put you in that position, I know how important this is to you. I won’t put myself in that position either.” He opens his mouth to oppose you but he knows as well as you do that this is the end. “I can’t believe I’m going to say this but this was easier when I had a stalker, all I had to worry about was making it through the day without being murdered. But things are real now, you have a career and a family to worry about, I have to go to college. I guess we just didn’t think this through.”

He retreats slightly, a hurt expression on his face. “That doesn’t mean it was wrong.” He says, quietly. “I told you I’d wanted to be with you for a long time, and I meant it. I don’t regret any of it.”

You cup his cheek. “Neither do I. But we both know what needs to happen. I can’t stay.”

He caresses your hand on his cheek with bereft eyes. “You changed me, you know?”

You laugh dryly. “With your gig at the BAU? Forget it, you’ll be saving people left and right.”

“You know that’s not what I meant.” His voice cracks. “I’m just sorry we couldn’t have more time. I think this could have been something.”

“Did you read the note?” He shakes his head. “Wait until I’m gone to read it - you don’t have to. But if you ever find yourself doubting or second-guessing who you were to me - who you are to me? You should read that. It has everything you’ll need to know.”

He brings his forehead to yours, glassy eyes watching you with so much affection you think you might just break. “Can we stay here? Just for a minute? I’m not ready to let you go yet.” He asks.

You nod and loop your arms around his neck, tiptoeing to reach his height. He hugs you back with ferocity, face burying in the crook of your neck as he takes you in, memorises the way you body slots against his, how you smell and feel. He presses his eyes shut, willing his brain to commit every last feeling to memory, terrified that there may come a day when he no longer remembers how he loves you.

You muffle your sobs as best as you can, clutching at the material of his shirt, and the small tufts of hair at the nape of his neck. Try as you might, when you close your eyes, all you can see is a reel of your relationship with Aaron, spanning from the moment you met to now.

All of it comes rushing back: the gazebo, your apartment, numerous late night coffees and dinners, his face in the cabin, the hospital and of course, the nights and days you spent in bed. The pond, the balcony, the laughter. The love. You feel a hole consuming your chest and you struggle to breathe, cursing yourself for falling in love with the one man you couldn’t possibly ever have.

James beeps from inside the towncar, and you reluctantly loosen your grip on Aaron, sniffling as you let him go. It feels infinitely harder to detangle yourself from him now, like tearing a bandage off of a raw wound, but you know you need to go.

And so does he.

His eyes are watery when you look at him, yours mirroring his heartbreak. “I guess this is it.” He rasps.

You clear your throat. “Yeah. I guess so.”

“Can I kiss you goodbye?”

You nod solemnly. His hands cup your cheeks lovingly, wiping away a stray tear. He leans in, and presses his lips to yours for the last time. He takes his time, allowing himself to linger in the moment, and convey everything he can in this kiss without having to say it. Wants to remember how soft your lips are and the way you taste.

Your tears fall steadily now, your own hands tangling in his hair. You selfishly wish you could stay here, throw away any and all integrity just to keep him for yourself. But you both have things to do, futures to live.

You break the kiss, forehead resting against his. His hand cradles the back of your head, and he presses a tender kiss to your forehead, lips lingering before he finally lets go.

You fish in your pocket and take his hand in yours, dropping your key into his palm. He looks at you quizzically. “Keep it, give it to the super, I don’t mind. But lock up for me?” You ask him.

He nods, closing his hand around yours, a desperate attempt to keep you close for a few more fleeting moments. He presses a desperate kiss laced with finality on your lips as you release yourself from his embrace.

Watching you reach for the car door sends him into a tailspin. You’re just about in the car when you hear him call your name. His voice is strained. “Listen, I just- before you go. There’s something I need to tell you.” His face is contorted with desperation and his voice laced with something utterly heartbroken.

You know where he’s going with this. You weren’t sure if he felt it until now, horrible fucking timing, but it’s still something.

“Don’t. I know what you’re going to say, Aaron. Please don’t.” You sob. “This is already one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do, please don’t make it harder. I know what you’re going to say. But before you do… just please don’t?” You plead.

He swallows thickly, choking back tears, too. “I do, though.”

You breathe through the hole in your chest. “I know, Aaron. I do, too.” Your smile is bitter as you open the car door and step inside gingerly, keeping your eyes on the sidewalk where he stands. He walks over to you, tangles your fingers with his briefly before cradling your chin, wiping another stray tear.

“Maybe in another life?” He whispers.

“Maybe in another life.” You tell him with a sad smile.

“Goodbye, sweetheart.”

I love you.

“Goodbye, Aaron.”

I love you.

He watches the car peel away longingly, muttering aloud the words that he’d whispered two nights ago when he thought you were asleep.

“I love you.”

———

09:15

Your car pulls up to the airstrip forty-five minutes later and you can hear the deafening engine of the plane before you even step out of the car. You place a $50 in the hand of the man who opens your door for you, throwing a quick thank you his way as you obscure your puffy eyes with a pair of sunglasses.

You offer the men loading your luggage a small smile and hand them their tips, before boarding the plane. You spot Emily on the far left side of the plane, her face buried in a copy of Mother Night.

When she sees you, she shoots up from her seat, throwing her book onto the table in front of her. “Oh my God! You came! Hi!” Her good arm wraps around your neck for a hug and you stiffen against her. “What made you change your mind?” She asks.

You close your mouth just as soon as you open it when the curtain dividers open.

“Darling!” Ambassador Prentiss emerges from her office, behind a divider on the plane. She has a phone receiver against her chest, you assume to muffle her voice to whoever is on the other end. “Emmy and I are so glad you decided to join us, we’ll be taking off in around 15 minutes.” She tells you, glancing at her watch.

You shoot her a polite smile and thank her, and she looks between you and Emily, excusing herself back to her office.

“I’ll let you girls catch up.”

Emily leads you to the seat opposite her, her face now showing signs of concern. She watches your face for an answer but when nothing comes, she asks outright.

“What happened? I thought you were going to stick around and see what happens? You had a date right? Her words scratch your skin.

“Date’s off.” You swallow.

Her eyes widen. “What? Why?!”

“His ex is pregnant and it’s his.” You reply nonchalantly, rapidly blinking back tears behind your sunglasses.

Her mouth drops open. “Holy shit! Are you okay?”

“I’ll be fine.” You reply, gazing out of the window.

Emily watches you in shock, unsure of what to say. She can tell by your demeanour that you’re in shock but she can’t do anything except hold your hand and tell you she’s sorry with a quiet voice.

“Yeah.” You sigh.

———

09:00

When he keys open your apartment door, he’s hit with an eerie silence, a heart wrenching emptiness. He attempts to turn a lamp on but the electricity has been turned off, leaving the living room cold and dark.

His mind fills in the spaces between the emptiness, picturing you sitting on your couch, or on the bar stools around your island. Can hear the incessantly loud TV, and your laughter from your room.

Your room is just as empty too, a few stray clothes hangers remain in the wardrobes and when he turns to look out at your balcony, he swears he sees your shadow outside. He makes sure the doors and windows are secure and makes his way back to your living room, the entire experience harrowing, like walking through a graveyard of memories.

His legs give out as he walks back to the living room, sinking onto the couch. A picture of you catches his eye on the side table next to him, the same one he’d caressed gently when you’d been taken by Jordan. He’d thought then, that was the worst moment of his life, had he known what was to come, he’d have reserved his judgement.

He swallows the lump in his throat as he gently brushes a finger over the glass, unable to keep the tears from coming now. He wishes with everything you could have stayed, can feel it deep within him that you’ll keep a part of his heart for years to come. Then he remembers the note.

He opens the folded paper with trembling hands.

‘Dearest Aaron,

I sit in your living room right now, struggling for the words to write but I can’t seem to come up with anything that truly encapsulates how I feel. How I’m incredibly sorry to have to leave like this, how I wish with everything in me that I didn’t have to, I wish this could have ended differently.

I want to say thank you. You may not know or understand this, but for all the good and bad, you truly changed my life. I met you during the darkest and scariest part of my life, when I had nobody - when I was all alone. And in you came like a light and protected me fiercely, taught me everything I needed to save my life. You did that.

You saved me.

You changed me.

Despite the circumstances, we did have something, a friendship, maybe the start of something more - something real. Don’t ever doubt that. The last two days were two of the best of my life, a fitting reward, I thought, after everything I’d been through. But I couldn’t let you talk me into staying, because I know you, and you would have tried, told me that we could’ve worked something out - and it would’ve been selfish of me to stay.

I want you to know that I am so incredibly happy for you. This wasn't an easy decision, but I’m leaving of my own choice. I have no doubt in my mind that you’ll be an amazing father. That child will be loved and oh so lucky to have you and your warmth as a father. I know how much this means to you, how important it is for you to give your child a better life than the one you and Sean had.

And you will.

Thank you for everything you did for me, thank you for saving me over and over again. Thank you for teaching me to be brave, and for coming into my life. My hope for you is that you’ll build a wonderful life with your beautiful little family and achieve everything you’ve ever wanted and more.

You’ll change the world one day.

Know that I will always have a special place for you in my heart.

I’ll never forget you.

All my love.’

He swallows the burning in his chest. Two days were all he had with you and he stupidly saw himself able to imagine a future with you, could imagine loving you for the rest of his life - but then he’d been in love with you long before you’d asked him to stay.

He winces as something digs into his chest and he reaches for his inside jacket pocket until something cold makes contact with his fingers.

His heart stops, molten lava running through his veins.

Your necklace.

He grips it until the sharp edges of the pendant feel like they’re about to puncture his skin.

Maybe he wasn’t destined for peace, for love. The love that he wanted. Maybe a happy ending wasn’t written for him and he’d have to make peace with that. At least he had the memory of your face burnt into his brain, the smell of your hair, the sound of your laughter.

That finite part of you would get him through eternity.

———

20:00

You’ve rejected every meal you’ve been offered by the staff aboard the plane, instead choosing to down Emily’s bottle of red wine. It eases the heaviness in your head, that’s true but the ache in your chest still remains.

Emily’s since drifted off to sleep, her book laying open against her stomach, meal half-eaten. You stare at the blinking lights of the plane and the clouds below you until everything starts to blur.

You love him. He loves you. That much is true. You never had believed in the concept of the right person but the wrong time, how could you? If the person was right, the timing would surely be inconsequential.

That was until you met Aaron.

In this life, in the grey harsh reality, after everything you had been through with him, the simple fact that two people love one another pales in comparison to the bloody reality of commitments, matters of the mind and sacrifice.

He loves you and you love him. It just isn’t enough.

He aches for you and you ache for him. But it’s still just out of reach.

Your hearts aren’t your own anymore. But you have to go on anyway.

———

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[unicyclehippo]

Jouska for Beau imagining all the ways confessing to Jester would go, maybe? I love your writing!

she thinks about telling her when they step out from tidepeak and into the nicodranian streets. the midday sun casts a statue of gold out of jester and she wants to say - something? anything? but the moment passes. fjord’s shoulder bumps into hers and he mutters an unbothered ‘sorry, careful,’ before slinging an arm over her shoulders. beau reaches up. wants to curl an arm around his waist, wants to return his easy affection. instead, she flicks him and shrugs the arm off.

he doesn’t seem to mind. ‘the day is ours!’ he says, voice pitched for their entire group to hear. ‘what the fuck do we wanna do? what’s the plan!’

‘we have a plan?’

‘first that i am hearing of it.’

‘i never really took you for a planning man, fjord, that’s nice, that’s seems like - ah - like growth. that’s great.’

‘do we wanna see if orly is around?’ someone finally suggests, and they draw their attention from teasing fjord toward their actual mission.

‘or visit your mum, jester,’

‘yeah, totally, yeah we can do that for sure, yes,’

beau thinks about saying it. saying something—hey, why are you upset? hey, do you not wanna see your mum? hey, i think you’re sad, which is a thing i can super recognise and relate to because i’m a bit fucked up at the moment and maybe it’s hypocritical of me to say this but i’d do anything to maybe ease a fraction of your pain, if you’d let me try.

she doesn’t say any of that.

//

she thinks about telling her when jester comes back in the afternoon, dress bag in hand, hanging the hook over the top of the door and peeling back the bag to show the suit beneath. it’s easily the nicest thing anyone has ever done for her—the only gift beau can remember being given, maybe ever, certainly for a long ass time—and it’s not some handout thing but a suit. that jester—and caduceus, sure—had made. for her. for her, specifically.

‘jes...it’s—‘

words fail and she grabs for her friend instead, wraps her in a tight hug.

‘thank you! this is—yeah,’

‘that’s the reaction i was looking for,’ jester says with a laugh. ‘try it on, we have time for some minor alterations maybe. let me know how it fits!’

‘you’re not staying?’

‘i have to give yasha her dress and fjord his coat. but i’ll be back!’

‘to try on your dress?’

jester’s smile is contained, barely, and she nods a few times fast. ‘did you look?’

‘nah. figured you’d want it to be a surprise. unless—i mean—did you want me to look?’

‘no, no, a surprise is good! it’s going to be beautiful.’

beau thinks about telling her then. that the dress has no choice—it’ll be on jester so of course it’ll look amazing. that she’s looking forward to it. that she could get a matching tie or something, if that’s what jester wanted. she thinks about telling her that jester surprises her all the time with her thoughtful nature, her kindness, her creativity—her beauty is the least surprising thing about her.

she doesn’t say that either.

//

they don’t get the chance to dance. beau does, and fjord, but that’s to escape suspicion and it totally works and it’s the smallest bit weird at all. but the rest of them don’t and it’s kind of sad, beau thinks, that they’re invited to a shindig like that—fancy, beautiful, good food once she stops freaking out about the drifting eel-like creatures that move through the tables—and they spent the whole time following essek around and not having any fun at all.

the party is winding to a close by the time they make it back—ostensibly to thank the marquis for having them, in reality to collect marion from where they had abandoned her and maybe, maybe, let someone know about the man mysteriously trapped on the balcony above. faint music drifts through the space still from a band set in the shadowed corner, out of sight.

the glow from the small hanging lights makes jester’s shoulders shine and glitter as she makes her way toward where they had seen her mama last.

‘jester?’ the girl turns at the sound of her name, brows raised. ‘do you—i know you didn’t get to enjoy yourself tonight, what with lord fuckhead finding us straight away and the whole thing with—lord thane.’

jester shakes her head, laughs. ‘it was kind of fun, actually. telling sharpe what to do.’

‘yeah that was a power move, that was awesome,’ beau agrees. nods. she lifts a hand to her ascot, adjusts it nervously. this is stupid, this is so fucking stupid, she shouldn’t do it, she shouldn’t—‘do you wanna dance?’

‘with you?’

beau forces a smile. feels it form rough, unkind, exactly not the way fjord has taught her. ‘i mean, you’ve got your pick of dance partners. i just thought—this could’ve been your scene and you should get to enjoy it. at least for tonight.’

‘that’s true. okay!’ jester hurries back to her, holds out her hand.

beau takes it.

she thinks about telling her. comes pretty close, too. thinks about telling her how lovely she looks in the dusk pink dress, how beautifully her tattoo comes up in the candlelight.

‘your mum is somethin’ else, huh?’

‘mhm!’

‘beautiful voice. and it’s pretty wild that she stepped out for you. that’s hard for her.’

‘yeah. it really is.’

‘well. you deserve that.’

‘mama being uncomfortable?’

‘your mum stepping out of her comfort zone for you. she’s working hard.’

‘she really is.’

beau nods. takes the hand jester offers her and steps close. it is jester who closes the distance, setting her other hand on beau’s hip with a cheerful ‘we have to stand like this, beau!’ and yanking her right in. they sway slowly, turning to the gentle music, and beau hums when the music repeats itself.

‘i’ve never been to a real party before.’

‘most of them are shit. super boring. lots of rich bastards talking about how much money they have and what they’re gonna do with all of it.’

‘have you been to a party then?’

beau shrugs. ‘a few. nothing as nice as this place, but a few. always had to wear a dress. this is nicer.’ she thinks about telling her what it means, how it feels, to be seen by jester. ‘this is good,’ is what she says.

[neocityarchive]

a lover’s dictionary | n.y.t.

— words from A to Z loosely defined from a lover’s perspective

genre: fluff, angst, poetic

pairing: yuta x y/n

word count: 1.7k +

warnings: bit of suggestive smut

definition guide

a/n: i wrote this on a whim. i wanted to try different writing formats so i really hope u guys like this one 🥺

inspired by david levithan’s “the lover’s dictionary”

Alexithymia (n.)

— Yuta was scared to admit to himself he was already falling in love. But as he watched you laugh a little too hard at his bad impression of Mark, the crazy, out-of-hand beating of his heart left those three words hanging on the tip of his tongue, just waiting to be said.

Babble (v.)

— As much as the whole group chat loves to see Yuta this happy for the first time, they couldn’t help but mute their notifications after he flooded the chat with keyboard smashes and random heart emojis after he got home from your first date.

Cafuné (Portugese) (v.)

— The strands of his hair lightly tickled the spaces between your fingers as you tugged on them gently. Yuta smiled against your lips before deepening the kiss, his hands desperately trying to get rid of your ponytail and every other article of your clothing.

Debunk (v.)

— Your friends didn’t trust Yuta at first. They seemed to believe he will be just like everyone else who dated you before him: gone when they’ve taken what they could.

“Did you believe them then?” he asked when you told him about it.

You couldn’t answer. You just shrugged. Part of you used to be worried they were right. But Yuta didn’t need your words to know what you think.

“Do you still believe them?” He looked at you, barely masking his hurt expression.

You shook your head immediately. “You’ve proved them wrong every step of the way.”

Eccedentesiast (n.)

— “Hyung,” Doyoung said, surprised when he opened the door to see Yuta on a Sunday morning. Everyone knows his Sunday mornings are for you. “What are you doing here?”

“Nothing. Can I crash here?” He entered Doyoung’s apartment without waiting for his permission. “I’ve been up all night.”

“Sure, but are you okay?” the younger asked.

“Of course.” Yuta smiled but his chest felt like it was being ripped apart at the seams. His head was pounding from the headache of having drank a few bottles too many last night. He never liked being in a fight, especially with you. It rarely happens, but it always makes him question everything about himself.

Fika (Swedish) (n.)

— After a long and hectic week, you and Yuta decided to just stay at home and cuddle all day. At 4 PM after watching all the movies on your watch later list, he proceeds to pepper you with soft kisses, muttering I love yous in between your giggles.

Guffaw (v.)

— Yuta’s laughter can be heard from the other side of the hall, strangely sounding like that of a Disney villain. He clutched his stomach, eyes disappearing as he watched you ask a stranger for some change after losing on a bet with him.

Happiness (n.)

— It’s all those moments between waking up and going to sleep, such as when Yuta leans over to the passenger’s seat to peck you on the lips before the stop light turns green again or when he brings you your favorite doughnut when you’ve got too much work on your hands.

Interstice (n.)

— You reached out to the space on the couch beside you, expecting to find Yuta’s hand waiting to be intertwined with yours, before remembering you decided to take a break on your relationship after he walked out on you a few days back.

Jouska (n.)

— “Move in with me,” Yuta rehearsed in front of the mirror for the hundredth time that day. He shook his head, still not satisfied with how he said it.

“Y/N, please move in with me,” he said again, his mind thinking about all your possible reactions. Would you say yes? Would you say no?

“Do you wanna move in with me,” he tried once more, almost giving up on himself.

“Y/N, move in with me?”

“Okay.”

Yuta jumped, not realizing you’ve been watching him for the past two minutes, laughing to yourself as you watched his silly antics.

Koi no yokan (Japanese) (n.)

— Yuta was a stranger to you before he was anything else. The coffee shop was too crowded on the day you met. He needed a place to sit as he waited for his friend, and you happened to have an extra seat on your table.

He told you he didn’t usually talk to strangers, but you were crying that day and he couldn’t help but ask if you were okay. You said yes, but the book you were reading is killing you inside.

He laughed, and upon glancing at the book in your hand, said, “If it helps, that book killed me inside, too.” He flashed a smile. That perfect smile. “I’m Yuta.”

“Y/N,” you replied.

It was a normal conversation with a random stranger, and yet, at that moment, you couldn’t help but think he’s gonna break my heart someday.

Lacuna (n.)

— It wasn’t your physical absence that made this whole cool-off thing hurt, Yuta thought. It was the Y/N-shaped hole in his chest that he had no idea how to fill up.

Maybe (adv.)

— A vague answer. A not-so-safe response;

“Do you think it’ll rain tonight?” he asked one rainy afternoon.

“Maybe,” you answered.

“Do you think it’ll be us til the end?” he asked a little while later.

“Maybe,” you replied.

Night (n.)

— These are the hours where Yuta would either hold you close or push you to your edge.

Oblivious (adj.)

— Before you started dating, everyone but you and Yuta knew that you were whipped for each other. When you two broke up, everyone but you two knew you were still whipped for each other.

Procrastinate (v.)

— It’s those extra five minutes of cuddling that Yuta begs for every morning, making you miss the bus to work. But it’s also those hour-long make out sessions that makes you two late for your dinner reservations at night.

Quibble (v.)

— “That’s not the point!” You were already raising your voice, unable to control your emotions. It was 2AM and Yuta just got home from god knows where without so much as texting you.

“There is no point. I’m already here, Y/N. What more do you want?!” He was drunk. Not so drunk that he doesn’t know what he’s doing, but enough to let his guard down and say things he didn’t really mean.

For a moment, his legs became shaky, making him lose balance. He leaned against the kitchen counter for support. But as mad as you were, you were still concerned about him.

“I want you to stop acting like there’s no one who gets worried about you. Why do you always have to be so reckless?” you snapped, helping him steady himself.

But Yuta moved away from you. “You’re not my mother. Hell, my own mother doesn’t even care about me. So stop acting like you have control over everything in my life.”

He was drunk, but sober enough to recognize the pained expression on your face. It was only then that he realized had crossed the line.

Right (adj.)

— It includes everything from the way Yuta touches you to the way your name drips from his tongue like honey.

Sunday (n.)

— It doesn’t matter what went on during the week. Your Sundays were Yuta’s, and Yuta’s were yours. It’s the day of walking up short mountain trails or discovering new restaurants or skinny dipping in lakes or even just staying at your apartment to binge watch Netflix. It doesn’t matter where your mood will take you as long as your Sundays are for each other.

Tacenda (n.)

— “I’m sorry,” Yuta muttered as soon as you opened the door. “I know you’re right. It’s my fault. Let’s just–“ he swallowed. “Please, let’s fix this.”

That was all it took to have you break down in front of him. You’ve only broken up for three days, but it was three days too many.

Yuta took a step closer, still testing the waters if he could put his arms around you. When you didn’t move away, he pulled you in his embrace. Your entire body melted into his arms, your face buried in his chest, your arms almost subconsciously wrapping around his torso.

“I’m sorry, baby. I’m so, so sorry,” he mumbled against your skin, his voice as fragile as you were.

“You don’t have to say anything anymore,” you said in between sobs. “Just please don’t walk out on me again.”

A tear slipped from Yuta’s eye. “I’m sorry.”

Umpteen (adj.)

—You could no longer count the number of times Yuta has said “I love you,” but weirdly enough, it makes you feel the same way every time.

Vandalism (n.)

— When you opened the book you borrowed from the university library, there was a small note written in the corner of the page you bookmarked: “I can’t wait to kiss you senseless again when you’re done with all this studying.”

Your cheeks blushed as your eyes scanned through Yuta’s handwriting once again. You closed the book and looked around, hoping no one saw how your boyfriend defaced school property to send you a flirty note.

Whiskey (n.)

—“No,” Yuta said firmly. “The last time you had a shot of that, I had to physically stop you from stripping while standing in Taeyong’s dining table in front of everybody.”

“But–”

“No.”

X (n.)

— You couldn’t help it. Your nails drew crosses on Yuta’s bare back as he softly grunts your name.

You (pron.)

— “Mine,” Yuta whispered in your ear before kissing you goodnight.

Zing (n.)

— The feeling you get when Yuta’s fingertips graze above every inch of your skin, your chest rising up and down heavily in anticipation.

[eternaljouska]

Imma cry

I forget to bring my story notes with me :)

[benes-diction]

Jouska - A hypothetical conversation that you compulsively play out in your head. [[ For Caius, possibly about the Dergin :V ]]

“... You’re an absolute imbecile. Losing your damned mind over something as simple as a punch is beyond ridiculous. And I goaded you, you giant, scaly bastard. See? I’m admitting it. I goaded you. I caused it. And it was just a damned punch! For the Emperor’s sake, there is absolutely no reason you should have transformed into an even larger scaly bastard!

“Besides. It gave me an excuse to speak my mind with Audrey over linkpearl. So you helped me there. You helped us get together, I guess.

“Why are you so difficult.”

Caius squints at the letter he wrote and promptly rips it into tiny pieces. Perhaps another time.