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ayamturd · 3 years

Text

bisexual│mcyt hc

warnings: small mentions of hate, fluff

prompt: (requested 1 & 2) “Hello uh I saw one of your posts about the dream smp reacting to you coming out so I was wondering if you haven't already done it can you do dream smp reacting to you coming out as bisexual?”

“Hello yamturd so I was wondering if maybe you could do tubbo, Tommy and Ranboo reacting to reader coming out as bisexual or lesbian if you haven't already done it :)”

pairings: irl platonic! dream, ranboo, tommy and tubbo ; c!technoblade

a/n: if i offend or misinterpret anything in this hc, please feel free to message and correct me otherwise. i will always try to correct or delete this post if asked so <33

sending my love to all those who identify as bisexual <33

wc: (1.5k) - m.list

dream -

considering his prideful personality sometimes, you probably wanted to play with his ego and drop subtle hints

not anything too obvious, but enough to make him kick himself when he realizes

though it was admittedly difficult since he plays into the dnf ship so much that he thinks you’re also joking more than half the time

imagine you two were in a voice call one evening and randomly discussing the recent fanon and what would be funny to turn into canon (to mess with the fandom)

you’ve been recently shipped with two other content creators, both of opposing female and male gender, separately and together

“Honestly, I wouldn’t mind hitting that.” “Which one?” “Both.”

He’d laugh, but you didn’t.

“Wait, you’re serious? You actually identify as…?” “Bisexual. Yeah, I’m pretty sure anyway.” “Y/n, that’s amazing.”

takes pride in the fact that you trust him, but would feign being upset that you messed with him for as long as you did

be jokingly offended if he found out someone knew before him

“Wait…” “Yes?” “You told Bad??” “Yeah, he was one of the first.” “W— Why??”

It was your turn to laugh while he gawked in disbelief.

“It’s Bad! Of course I told him.” “… Fair enough.”

hate is a given, and he’ll always be there to support and defend you

he’ll always ask your permission before taking any action, however, because he respects you too much and knows you can fight your own battles

dream is someone will show relentless support, whether that be through words or moral support, he’ll always be there for you

c!technoblade -

i honestly feel like you never officially came out to techno

as you began to recognize yourself as bisexual, you slowly expressed yourself around him more openly to the point where he unconsciously knew

it’d probably would have hit him in the most random moment after months of assuming he knew

imagine you’re in the midst of battle when techno paused entirely with wide eyes

“Y/n!” “What!?” “Are you gay??”

you would tease him when discussing your love life in one-sided conversations with him; him basically choosing to ignore you when you talk to him

“Honestly, Techno, how could you not want to hit that?” “Please, just stop.”

(i’ve written this before but will stand by this that) he truly doesn’t care for your sexuality

you’re a friend, someone he trusts and relies on, he doesn’t need to consider who you’re attracted to since he sees you for your skills and friendship

the only, and only time he is mindful of your sexuality depends on others unnecessary comments about it

the smp is a known judgement free land, but there will always be someone with ignorant opinions that he is always quick to shut down (or kill)

nothing much can be said besides the fact that you’ll always be y/n to him: a loyal friend and someone he would fight the world for

ranboo -

oh sweet ranboo, dear ranboo

considering how openly supportive and kind he naturally is, you didn’t question the idea of telling him

i’d like to imagine that unlike most where you planned or waited to tell, the moment you knew, he would know soon after

imagine you called him before he began his lore stream to hype him up

you both were talking about more mundane things to calm his nerves as people joined when you brought it up

“Oh actually, before you start, I wanted to tell you something.” “Sure, what is it?” “Well, I— I’m Bisexual.” “…You’re tELLING ME THIS WHEN I’M ABOUT TO START MY STREAM??” “Y/n! I’m so happy for you, that’s amazing!”

he’s incredibly patient concerning how you wanted others to know or when you were ready to be completely out

similar to c!techno with the same beliefs you’re still y/n, and nothing has changed besides you coming out as yourself

he’s your go to when days are rough, because he knows how to help you understand you’re still loved as the same y/n and nothing less

“Hey, hey, listen to me. I love you, y/n. We all do, and you’ll never be alone when things get rough, alright?” (love /p)

knows how to silently deal with hate in his chat unless it becomes evident enough to address it (doesn’t want to bring attention to meaningless words until it becomes serious)

ranboo’s your rock and makes show that he’ll never believe anything other than that you deserve love

tommyinnit -

as someone who took pride in defending the LGBTQ+ community, you had no hesitation when coming out to tommy

if any, your reluctance would come from accepting yourself to the point to be open with other people

it’s not as if he didn’t accept you, he could never imagine doing so in the slightest, but he probably wouldn’t know what to say initially

imagine you both were in the midst of playing bedwars together in a recording for a video

he had been busy gathering emeralds while you remained at the base, and the comforting silence gave you the confidence to blindly address it

“Hey Tommy?” “What, y/n? I’m in the middle of something right now.” “Oh, um, I’m pretty sure I’m bisexual.” “…” “…Tommy?” “…” “T— Tommy?”

it’d be dead quiet for a few seconds before you heard the noise of him rustling in realization

“Wait wait wait, you’re serious? You’re bisexual?” “Haha yeah, yeah, I am.” “WHA—!”

he was happy for you, to say the least

tommy loves to joke, and one he loved to make would be your attraction to both genders

you like women? pog!

you like men? a shame, honestly

if you were publicly out, his favorite bit would be to include you in his obnoxious swooning

imagine he was streaming while talking about his love for women

“Boys, honestly, the ladies just can’t resist me.”

The ding of discord notified you entering the call, the sound of your laughter immediately coming through.

“I agree, Tommy, I definitely agree.” “Y/n! You are attracted to women, and I am also attracted to women. You can agree women are amazing, yes?” “I can, Tommy. Women are indeed amazing.” “Good lad!” “Tommy, you do realize I’m not only attracted to w—” “Shush, we don’t speak of that.”

he showed his support by normalizing your sexuality, his acceptance quick and easily integrated into your lives

(this is getting long but—) tommy was well aware he lacked some knowledge when being in the LGBTQ+ community, but openly voiced his ignorance as a sign of awareness itself

he was always quick to correct either himself or others, he refused to accept slander of any type in his streams

would probably try to keep it light heartedly, but scold nonetheless

tommy was your figurative cheerleader, always there to include and uplift you, whether that be through the smallest gestures or loudest cheers

tubbo -

poor tubbo

since he wasn’t the most careful with secrets, you probably withheld telling him till you were ready for most to know

this isn’t to deter anything of not trusting him, he’s still supportive and loving tubbo that wouldn’t dare do anything purposeful against you

if anything, you might have forgotten that he didn’t know when you were casually taking about it within a group

imagine you and Ranboo were trying to get him to sleep one early morning but gave up

you started talking about personal stuff and the topic of your love life came up, specifically the attraction to someone of the same gender

“I don’t know, Ranboo, I mean, I think I like them but at the same time I’m not sure.” “That’s fai—” “Wait, y/n. You’re gay??” “Bisexual, actually.” “WaAA—”

his very sleep deprived state was extremely happy and emotional for you

he’s like the little duckling with a knife, like he loves you completely but will try to hurt anyone that offends you

like tommy, he has no personal knowledge when being in the LGBTQ+ community but will solely learn for your sake

whether you’re younger or not, tubbo never fails to remind you that he looks up to you

he gives his all and won’t hesitate to provide in any way he can if needed

“You matter,” he’ll always say, “you’re important and no one else’s opinion matter.”

is proud to be your friend and expresses his platonic love in full, for you’re you and are so brave to be yourself despite all

choosing not to tag my usual taglist just cause its a headcanon with a specific request <33 (huge ty to @basilly and @inniterhq though for the advice/motivation to finish this)

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theyarebothgunshot · 3 years

Note

I’d be very interested in your thoughts on the JIB8 cockles panel. just a suggestion for your rewatch 👀

i’ve seen the jib8 panel so many times, because it’s honestly one of the wildest things i have ever seen and i just never get tired of it.

first of all i want to give you my take on the overall vibe, and then second of all i will get into the details and link to certain timestamps in the video.

disclaimer: i am not gonna be linking to every single thing i talk about, but i will try my best to link to the moments that stand out to me the most. i have read long posts about this panel before, so not everything in this post is gonna be original or said for the first time ever, simply because there is a good chance that information has stuck in my mind and has subconsciously formed my view of this panel. this is also in no way, shape or form gonna be coherent, unfortunately. i’m just gonna hope that the cockles hivemind will be able to make sense of this regardless. love and light. and lastly, this is all in good fun, so don’t come at me if you think this is too out there please and thank you.

fun fact: i was today years old when i found out that the airbnb story took place one day before this panel. what a sexually charged weekend that was for them dude (gn).

the vibe that i get from this panel is that their moods were off before they got on stage, and where misha kind of looks tired and not 100% enthusiastic about things, jensen apparently decided to get drunk and is trying to make it look like he is thriving. yet, a little while into the panel we learn that it has been an emotional rollercoaster of a day for him, which might have something to do with the overall mood. then again, it could be that something else happened in between the autographs and that panel, who is to say?

i have talked about the d/s subtones in their interactions before and this panel makes my radar ping like nobody’s business. if my interpretation of their dynamics is right, then one could assume that jensen was being very bratty on purpose, trying to stir up a reaction in misha, and i think he probably got what he wanted (more or less. maybe he thought misha would find it more amusing than he did, or but honestly, at that point they have already known each other for nearly 10 years so odds are he knew what he was doing and how misha would react to it. it would surprise me greatly if these two didn’t work out their mutual frustrations with the day and each other after this panel ended- in the bedroom.)

i genuinely think i have never seen jensen flirt more openly and aggressively with misha, ever, and i have never seen misha in the state he was in during this panel either: tired, a little annoyed about the fact that jensen was going off the deep end and that he was not able to stop him, to the point where he just gives up and says things like ‘when in rome’ etc. let’s get into it.

the mood is set from the very first second: misha is kinda subdued, and jensen is being a bit of a clown, coaxing misha to join him in the madness, which he does to a certain extent.

we are off to a great start with not just one [0m15s], but two [0m20s] moments in which i just know in my bones they wanted to hold hands. how do i know? because i have been there my fucking self. wanting to hold hands with your crush when you are drunk and acting silly is a love language okay.

as soon as they sit down, misha tries to make conversation and jensen just starts pushing him and pushing him, [1m11s] saying ‘shut up’ and ‘yeah it’s really stupid and it embarrasses me’, but misha tries to ignore it at first and just marches on through. which is probably why i never see people talk about that little comment. it embarrasses jensen when misha sits like that? why would he need to feel embarrassed by his friend’s actions? kinda weird tbh, sounds like husband behavior to me. i have a feeling that when misha said ‘by which he means it’s an innie’, jensen REALLY had to bite on his tongue not to go all ‘you weren’t complaining this morning’ or something like that. look at his face bro [1m55s].

and then jensen opens up his legs like the little tramp (affectionate) that he is and when misha tries to stop him he just TURNS to misha with said open legs like a mad man and goes ‘here’s the thing. pick a leg.’ [2m05s] LIKE? who DOES THAT? that is insane people behavior!!! admittedly i am a cis woman and i don’t have conversations with male friends about their bodily anatomy all that often, but i legit cannot phatom that this is a normal thing to talk about with your platonic buddy. pick a leg for me to rest my dick on, old buddy old pal. NOBODY DOES THAT. it’s not even something that i would consider flirting because even though i am into men, i would not find that arousing? so it’s either an action to provoke annoyance in misha or it’s something they have discussed before or both. because misha immediately understands what he means, starts shaking his head in frustration, and actually turns to jensen as if to say ‘are you fucking kidding me right now? really? you are really doing this?’ followed by a ‘this is making me feel so uncomfortable’ aka one of the phrases they both like to use even though they never mean it.

then when jensen actually goes up to do his ridiculous mating dance and sits back down again, he automatically sits down with his body turned towards misha.

quick side note: if anybody understands what the joke was about when they talked about ‘cas has big dolls’ i would love to hear it, because that has never made any sense to me, but it’s probably a me problem lmao.

when misha goes ‘could you watch your language please’ i think that’s a sign that he is genuinely getting a bit frustrated [4m53s] with jensen even though he is obviously playing it off as a joke. right after he says that, jensen puts his fingers against his mouth, as if to shut himself up. i know that a lot of people don’t wanna read too much into body language but hey, i am writing an analysis here so work with me for a sec: i think that could be a subconscious decision to listen to what misha is telling him to do, which ties into the d/s dynamics i’ve mentioned earlier.

i know people always go crazy when misha goes ‘what did i tell him’ [5m19s] and jensen whispers in his ear. i personally think misha probably told him about the fact that they booked kansas the band, but it’s still pretty telling that that is how misha would react to the question if something he told him is public knowledge. evidently that goes to show that there is enough that misha tells jensen that cannot be shared with the public, which i thought is interesting.

now that i am watching it again, the ‘j*red would have just said it’ comment kind of stumbles around in my brain asking me to dissect it. let’s just say that i wouldn’t be surprised if they were both thinking back on the many, many times that j*red put his foot in his mouth and made a suggestive comment about jensen and misha’s relationship.

god i just cringed [6m14s] watching jensen interact with that first girl who asked a question and he just goes off on her about how twins are cool and misha is shaking his head lord oh lord and that is the minute daniella decides that hey maybe they need even more alcohol lmfaoooo it’s a lot. poor misha i genuinely feel bad for him.

and then he goes ‘real men have twins’ and looks at misha and misha is still not having it so he goes ‘it’s just a shirt’ like girl (gn) pleASE that’s husband behavior, yet again, why else would he feel the need to clarify it. ‘look babe don’t be mad or jealous i don’t mean anything by it, it’s just a shirt’ i hate him.

i just know misha would have wanted to take the apple juice away from jensen lmao.

one of the moments [9m35s] that always stands out to me is when they go ‘that’s why we don’t bring steven’ ‘that’s right, that’s why he’s not allowed’ idk how to explain it but the way that just flows out of them so naturally feels very coupley for some reason.

i think we can all agree that jensen’s reaction [12m22s] to misha’s ‘i always wear orange underwear’ story is completely fake, right? because there is no way he didn’t know that, and his reaction was very exaggerated. plus, the little gesture to make misha show his underwear? bitch, please. whipped. there was also exactly zero reason for him to come that close to misha in order to inspect the color of his underwear.

the one thing that i wonder about, though, is why misha didn’t know jensen was wearing the famous underbear briefs? but as i am writing this i realise that even if they slept in the same hotel room, there are obviously a few different possible reasons why misha didn’t know what underwear jensen was wearing that day: either jensen showered and changed in the bathroom, so by the time he faced misha again he was fully dressed, or misha had to leave their hotel room earlier than jensen, or jensen changed while misha showered, etc etc.

in any case……. jensen dropping trou in the middle of this fucking panel? absolutely batshit insane, 10/10 thank you for your service nesnej.

this [13m54s] is where shit really starts to hit the fan. jensen is OUT OF CONTROL. the long stares??? the ‘rawr’s??? ‘you didn’t even get the full picture’??? (sidenote i would love to know what misha whispered to him right after).

OKAY so. when the girl mentions j*red and jensen goes all Knowing What’s Up and says ‘oh he has had a rough time today. misha kept us up way too late last night. *glances at misha* rrrrrrr’ listen. the only reason i am not reading too much into this is because i do not believe they had a threesome with j*red but also the way he said it was very sus and my mind can’t help but wonder if they were disgustingly flirty and way too touchy feely in front of j*red whilst drunk and honestly that’s probably the case.

of course this is followed [15m15s] by the insane man saying ‘by the way they go down to here’??? and the potentially whispered ‘i’ll show you later’?????? sir i have a lot of questions. number one: how dare you?

bless this next person for this question, because she starts her sentence with: ‘people who have been together for a long time…’ i actually already made a post about this once so i implore you all to read that because i still stand by what i said in there.

it is of course followed by them both not being able to think about ANYTHING appropriate to say to the question if there is anything they only do in front of each other that doesn’t involve pants. and then misha goes ‘why don’t i just share a private moment that we had’ and jensen’s first instinct is to say ‘shit’. i mean. i am merely perceiving.

this is the moment we realise that it has been quite The Day for them, but especially for jensen, because he has been emotional earlier in the day. which, again, could explain his demeanor during the panel. trying to distract himself. notice that he gets up and shakes his legs again and goes for a drink the second misha starts to tell the story: coping mechanisms aka distraction, just like he did at the start of the panel.

the moment where he goes ‘it’s hitting me now. shit.’ really solidifies this theory for me, that he has been acting like a goofy drunken guy all panel, in order to drown out the emotions he felt that afternoon, but alas. once he started to talk about it, it still all came back to him.

i will say this though: it kind of warms my heart that he was so touched by the fact that the fandom spawned something good. makes me feel slightly less dumb for forming parasocial relationships with that man. only slightly, but still.

misha going ‘god he’s so grouchy’ [25m32s]? say it with me, folks: husband behavior. once again misha tries to talk jensen down and jensen listens (sort of). say it with me, folks: d/s behavior. and RIGHT after that jensen walks towards misha with this intense fucking stare in his eyes that makes me feel like i am intruding, and then after he gets another drink (nesnej, why?) he just. gently massages misha’s neck and shoulder before draping his arm around him? and his hand lingers when he goes to grab the keychain? okay.

insert the famous ‘when in rome’ debacle lmao misha was so done with jensen by then it’s so hilarious. the funny thing is that misha says ‘what i mean is show each other our underwear, nothing weird. you can’t look at me like that, because of what you did’, while the question was ‘what would dean and cas do in rome’ and not ‘what would jensen and misha do in rome’ but clearly, once again, the actors cannot make a distinction between the two. interesting :) it also wouldn’t surprise me if jensen has told him to tone down the dean/cas answers but now that jensen decided to fully flash him on stage misha is like ‘sorry but i am not playing by your rules after what you did’ lmao. of course, jensen’s reaction is to go back to parting his legs for misha, like he is challenging him. i mean. you can’t make this shit up.

am i the only one who thinks that jensen might be thinking dirty thoughts when misha repeats ‘what would dean and cas do’ [27m50s]? because like. that’s quite a face he is making.

when he says ‘i don’t know how to answer that’ and misha agrees, idk, for some reason i get the feeling that that’s in the sense of ‘i don’t know how to answer that in a way that won’t get our fans’s hopes up because we know what they would want and we know what we would answer but we can’t go there’.

i really feel like the final straw for daniella was the way that jensen reacted to that last question like he was gonna have another breakdown lmao and that’s why the rest of the cast and crew were pushed onto the stage prematurely. because when you think about it, it’s a pretty rude thing to do when somebody is still answering a question? but okay.

listen - the last 6 minutes of this panel are so chaotic sdjfhsjh the only thing i can conclude from it is that jensen is hella drunk but we’ve been knew. his mood changes by the fucking second. i love him and his little dance and how he sits down on the stage. i feel like i might be jensen coded when i am drunk. i too get slutty and unpredictable.

so anyways long story short: jensen was hella drunk and wanted to provoke misha, it worked, they had hot sweaty sex after this panel, and the fact that jensen got drunk enough to entrust misha with taking care of shit during the panel makes me very emotional for some reason, and i just love them a lot. thank you for coming to my ted talk.

#cockles #i am sorry this is such a mess lmao but enjoy i guess?#jib 8 #alsaurus-loves-dean #i edited in the timestamps because apparently the links dont work on mobile and just jump to the beginning of the vid. sigh

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jaeheewillalwaysbemyfav · 3 years

Note

so since you're gonna do the avatar!mc au with the entities you think each brother would fear the most (SO excited for that btw, my friend can attest to the fact that i've basically been rambling about tma x om nonstop since the first post you made that put the two together), i'd love to hear your thoughts on which entity each brother would *be* an avatar of, if you're cool with sharing! personally i love the ideas of specifically vast!levi and dark!belphie but i'd love to hear your takes on the concept! <3

So because of how time works, despite receiving this ask on July 12, by the time you see this it’ll be August! So the entire Avatar!MC series should be out by now, which I hope you will/have enjoy/ed. I wholeheartedly agree with the concept of Vast! Levi, which I’ve talked about before (as you know ;) ), but I will happily ramble about it again!

These aren’t gonna be short fics though bc I do Yearn to save that energy for The Longfic, which is still in the planning stages because a) I can’t pick a timeline, and b) trying to match up the timelines of Obey Me and TMA is hard, especially when I tend to have a violent disrespect for actually paying attention to the timing of plot events in both. I already fucked up a part of the plotting because I forgot the order we get pacts with the brothers lmao

Content warnings: Mentions/allusions to tma-typical Spookies, yet another installation of my Cursed Crossover idea, lengthy debates about what makes someone choose to become an avatar of fear, spoilers for Lesson 16+ of Obey Me and S5 of TMA

What Entity Do I Think The Brothers Would Serve? (Cursed TMA x Obey Me Crossover)

Lucifer

So I put him as falling victim to the Eye/Beholding bc of his whole thing about Secrets and Pride being about wanting control over your own image

And he does have a creepy tendency in canon to always know when his brothers are up to some Dumb Shit

BUT! You know what we see in Lucifer’s character that we see in a certain Entity?

A simultaneous manipulation of others and submission to being manipulated by a higher power

That’s right, I think Luci would be a Web avatar

But Winter, Lucifer wouldn’t wanna take marching orders from someone/thing else! He’s too proud for that— You’re right! He doesn’t want to. But he will.

He willingly submitted himself and his family to Diavolo for eternity to get what he wanted (saving Lilith)

And from how much we see him work, it’s safe to say that he’s a pretty damn essential part of running the Devildom

If he really wanted to, he could probably successfully pull a coup on Diavolo

But he doesn’t, because he’s trapped himself by his own honour code

Thus, the sexual tension bromance we all know and love/insist is Deeply Problematic and blacklist (depending on how much you like/hate dialuci lol)

10/10, would fill with spiders again

Mammon

I put Mammon as falling victim to the Buried for pretty obvious reasons

But admittedly picking a fear he’d serve is trickier

I had to get a bit abstract with it, but I think the Hunt might suit him

Not necessarily the primal *cough* and police brutality *cough* parts of the Hunt tho

More like how Basira was considered an avatar of the Hunt in the fearpocalypse because of her mission/promise to Daisy

See, Greed can stem from fear

Fear of losing what you have, of no longer being able to support yourself, of being preyed upon by others

So people become greedy as a defense mechanism, to protect what they have

If they’re on the offensive, they won’t be targeted

Also, if you’re constantly pursuing more more more, there’s no time to think about anything else

Like consequences, or guilt, or Feelings

If Mammon let his little tough guy act go too far for too long, I don’t think it’s too much of a stretch to say he could start heading down the path to avatarhood

After all, people pay big money for hitmen and bounty hunters…

Leviathan

As I said last time, I can see why people would associate Levi with the Lonely first: he’s a shut in, he acts like he wants nothing to do with people/would rather be alone, and I get it

BUT! All of that actually stems from the fact that Levi has terrible self-esteem and thinks he deserves to be this gross shut in loser

While envy can make you want to bring others down to your level, so to speak, Levi tends to just shun “normies”, not actively conspire to sabotage them

He actually does crave understanding and to have people in his life, he just doesn’t know how to go about it

Boy’s got Mega Social Anxiety is what I’m saying (funny how both the Lonely and the Eye can be real bad for that, huh)

But the Vast? Nihilism? Takes all the pressure off

If everyone is a small, insignificant speck in the face of an uncaring, unfathomably large cosmos, who cares what you do? Who cares what people think of you?

Yeah, you’d be kinda weird too if you stared into the infinite abyss of the ocean and realized it was just the maw of a gargantuan sea monster too, Karen, lay off

Plus aesthetically, the great Awful Deep most people fear in the ocean is a comfort to Levi

And again, THE VAST IS MORE THAN JUST THE SKY

I WENT ON A BOAT ONCE

LIKE REAL FAR OUT, SO I COULDN’T SEE LAND FOR DAYS

IT WAS JUST ENDLESS B L U E

AND I WAS ON A CRUISE IN THE CARIBBEAN

I SAW A FRACTION OF THE OCEAN’S S U R F A C E AND IT WAS I M M E N S E

Did you know we’ve only explored like 5% or whatever of our oceans? Think about that! Every Single Thing we know about what’s in there is just the tip of the iceberg!!! GOD KNOWS WHAT’S DOWN THERE!!! PROBABLY FUCKED UP FISH IS WHAT

*ahem* anyway, fishee

Satan

Another tricky boi

I marked him down as fearing the Desolation, as a reflection of what he fears most in himself

I probably could have also gone with Slaughter, but I’d say that’s more baby/early-Satan

Desolation is also about destruction of potential, and Satan has very carefully built himself into a non-rage-monster person

So tearing that all away from him is :)))

But what would Satan give himself over to?

Ceaseless Watcher, I want that twink OBLITERATED—

Satan clings to knowledge and erudition to distance himself from the rage he was born as

“Watch and learn” is literally how he became a person

I find it deeply funny that it could also easily be how he becomes a monster once again

Also if you think the avatar of Wrath wouldn’t have a use for supernatural blackmail you’re just straight up incorrect

Couple that with Satan’s various connections and he’d be a Force to Reckon With

Asmodeus

I put him as a victim of the Corruption bc I found it extremely fitting considering the duality of his romanticized image vs the “dirty” fluid-filled nature of Lust.

Lust can be really nasty, but as licentious as Asmo’s supposed to be, he’s surprisingly coy

(now part of that comes from the fact that Obey Me isn’t strictly 18+/full-on porn, but still)

There’s a lot of Interesting Ideas to unpack there with attitudes towards sex vs sensuality and idealisation vs reality

Now as for an avatar… I debated this for a very long time, tossing around Eye, Stranger, Spiral, even Web for like one second

But I think I’ve got it

Slaughter!

Specifically the musical/random outbursts of violence side (not so much the war side)

Why? Well for one, Biblical Asmodeus is said to “"transport men into fits of madness and desire [...] with the result that they commit sin, and fall into murderous deeds (Testament of Solomon, verse 23).”

But also, Obey Me Asmo’s affair with that portrait chick from the earlier lessons started a whole ass war

Like it or not, the boy is very good at instilling manic violence in people

They don’t call it bloodlust for nothing

Beelzebub

I paired Beel with an End avatar MC bc the boy fears losing his loved ones like he lost Lilith

You could argue that Desolation would fit there too but I liked how it fit Satan better

Now as for a Vibe…

I’m tied between Flesh and Corruption tbh

Though corruption is mostly bc buge :)

So I’ll talk about the Flesh

So uh, mass consumerism, meat is meat, cannibalism… see where I’m going?

Ignoring the Hans because that was super racist, the two Flesh avatars I remember best are Jared Hopworth and The Guy Who Stuck His Arm in a Spooky Meat Grinder To Feed His Buds

I think of Jared in relation to Beel not because of the gym thing, but because his very chill/apathetic attitude towards his patron is similar to how I’d picture Beel’s approach to all this

Like “well, guess I’m here now”

I love Beel as much as everyone else, but he’s not exactly apologetic about his… habits

Not to the degree that he’d actually try and change them anyway

So if he got started on the path to Flesh avatarhood, he’d be pretty fucked

Belphegor

I put Web for him as a fear almost entirely because of the concept of Uno Reverse Card, ngl

It does technically tie into his whole thing about being trapped in the attic, since he’d denied all agency and freedom in there, but… Uno Reverse

Dark!Belphie is an interesting concept, and MAG86 “Tucked In” is iconic, but tbh I don’t really… Get the Dark

Don’t get me wrong, put me in a dark place and I will be scared, I don’t like not seeing things, but I have a hard time wrapping my head around why one would become an avatar of the Dark

It’s not a very “primary” fear imo? Like, I’m scared of the dark bc I can’t see what’s there, ie. a threat could be there and I wouldn’t know, but intellectually I know it’s just the absence of light. That’s not really spooky on its own.

I guess what I’m saying is I can attribute spookier things related to the Dark better to other Entities, so I’m not sure what its draw is specifically

According to the Entity Sexiness Survey I did a while back, there’s apparently some Catholic stuff going on with the Dark so maybe that’s why i don’t get it lmao

Anyway I’d put Belphie down for Spiral

“What lies behind a smile” indeed cowboy

Apparently it’s getting choked

Is it because MC’s entire relationship with him is originally founded on a lie?

Is it because the Spiral deals with distortions in your perception, gaslighting gatekeeping girlbossing, as well as foggy liminal mental spaces like between sleep and consciousness, death and life?

Is it because I think Belphie would absolutely delight in driving someone bananas by fucking with their dreams until it bleeds into their waking life?

Is it because being a person or consistent being at all is too much effort, consistent internal geography is hard, fuck it, just be an endless twisting series of hallways?

Yes :)

#obey me #tma #cursed tma x om crossover #obey me headcanons #tma the entities #lucifer #mammon #leviathan #satan #asmodeus #beelzebub #belphegor

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addictedtojmanga · 3 years

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Shoujo manga recommendations - otome game isekai

So, after 10+ years reading shoujo manga, I’ve read over 1k titles, admittedly, a reasonable amount is one-shot (or at least a collection of), but nonetheless, over time I had to expand my interests.

Lately, I’ve started reading the otome game isekai genre, and decided it’d be nice to share the ones I thought were best.

Most of them are pretty much the same, but the best ones usually have a twist, so...

! Warning: You’ll most likely want to beat up 1 or 2 characters from each one, but worry not, so do I and the other characters

1. Fiancée's Observation Log of the Self-proclaimed Villainess

Crown prince Cecil was so brilliant that everything in life was easy to the point of boring him, then one day, his fiancée Bertia suddenly said "Prince Cecil, I am a villainess!" Claiming that this world is the same as that of an "otome game" from her past life and that she is playing the role of the "villainess" in it, she aims to play her part well and have their engagement annulled. With that goal in mind, she sets about causing turmoil in Cecil's daily life.

This one definitely takes the gold for me. Super sweet and pretty funny.

2. My Next Life as a Villainess: All Routes Lead to Doom!

Most people would prefer being the protagonist of a world full of adventure, be it in a game or in another world. But, unfortunately, a certain girl is not so lucky. Regaining the memories of her past life, she realizes that she was reborn in the world of Fortune Lover—one of the games she used to play. Unfortunately, the character she was reincarnated into—Katarina Claes—is the game's main antagonist, who faces utter doom in every ending. Using her extensive knowledge of the game, she takes it upon herself to escape from the chains of this accursed destiny. However, this will not be an easy feat, especially since she needs to be cautious as to not set off death flags that may speed up the impending doom she is trying to avoid. Even so, to make a change that will affect the lives of everyone around her, she strives—not as the heroine—but as the villainess.

This one takes 2nd place! It has a different result than others, and the FL is great - everyone is, to be fair.

3. Of Course I’ll Claim Palimony

"I'll annul our engagement!" My fiancé suddenly declared?! Apparently he's in love with the recently transferred count's daughter and is planning on making me the villain in order to annul the engagement. Although I have no lingering attachments about the engagement, I do have to claim a hefty consolation fee don't I?

This is sooo good. The FL is spectacular and manages to stand out - even if just a bit - from the rest of the genre.

4. I’m a Villainous Daughter, so I’m going to keep the Last Boss

Avoid the BAD END! That's the goal of the villainess in this plot-twisting story!! She has been reborn into the world of an otome game as the villainess, Irene. Using her memories of her former life, she recognizes flags indicating she's en-route to the bad end, so she makes a plan to conquer the last boss (the evil king Claude), make him her lover, and see if she can open up a new route!

Pretty funny, and the FL is bold. Also, the ML is a bishounen.

It’s one of the few mangas from this genre that has been completely translated, and since it only has 13 chapters, it’s a good way to start out.

5. The Plain & Unnoticeable Me is No More

Elaine Lana Norris, who was born at the top of the aristocratic daughter, was declared abandoned by her second fiancé at the school's founding party. Lana, who has been made a villain daughter, is driven out of her home by a strict grandfather. But there is a secret in Lana that everyone doesn't know about?

I don’t want to give out any spoilers, however, it suffices to say that she accepts her role as the villainess.

Ok, I think these 5 are my favorite, but the ones below have been selected as well, so they’re still pretty good and worth reading.

6. The Villiainess Is Adored by the Crown Prince of the Neighboring Kingdom

Tiararose was supposed to be disengaged and exiled from the country. “This was the Otome game I had played!” She realized on the day before the story’s ending??……. Shall I wait for the judgment? But, I did not do anything too cruel……. Thinking so, the ending continues. But, during the judgement??something that was not possible in the game happened. The neighboring crown prince courted the villainous daughter Tiararose.

ML: 10/10 FL: 8/10 (too insecure for my taste)

7. Endo and Kobayashi’s Live Commentary on the Villainess

She’s always putting on that grumpy face even though she’s not actually that upset! Oh, why can’t she just be honest with herself…!??? She is a tsundere, after all? When her embarrassment levels exceed a certain limit, she will explode into anger. However, the point that she’s suppressing under the surface is that she wouldn’t mind that sort of thing if it were in a less public place.? As Endo-kun passionately reacts to the antics of Lady Liselotte, the villainess of an otome game, Kobayashi-san provides a painstaking breakdown of her tsundere behaviour. Suddenly, one person could hear their voices; Liselotte’s fiancée, Prince Siegward. That is where this story begins.

8. I’m the Villainess, but the Capture Targets are too Abnormal

The villainess, Mystia, remembered her past life on her 10th birthday and has unwittingly turned the characters in the otome game "Kyun Kyun Love School" into yanderes! In order to avoid becoming the love rival of the "heroine" who will lead her to her downfall, she starts making every effort to break off her engagement with her "prince-like classmate"! That’s was what supposed to happen...But, because of her kind personality, her favorability increased instead!

It’s still in its beginning stages, but seems pretty solid.

9. Though I May Be a Villainess, I'll Show You I Can Obtain Happiness!

A collection of one shots.

Great way to start out, it has quite a few options, so if you don’t like one, give another one a try!

10. The Villainess, Cecilia Silvie, Doesn't Want to Die, So She Decided to Cross-dress!

I was reincarnated into the body Cecilia Silvie, the villainess of an otome game. According to the plot, what awaits me in the normal route is either a slow, painful death or an instantaneous one... Essentially, every route leads to my demise. Then I'll change my fate! And that's why I decided to become a man. However, I made a mistake during a certain event, and the story began to head down an unexpected path...?

I haven’t seen any other like this, and if you like gender bender, this one’s for you!

11. I’ll Become a Villainess That Will Go Down in History ― The More of a Villainess I Become, the More the Prince will Dote on Me

Alicia is the eldest daughter of the noble Williams family—a bloodline that excels in dark magic. Her jet-black hair and golden eyes command a powerful presence, but her most unique features are, without a doubt, her sharp tongue and malevolent nature. By all means, she is a villainess, but also a fictional character from an otome game!

12. I’m Not a Villainess!! Just Because I Can Control Darkness Doesn’t Mean I’m a Bad Person!

The novel The Saint Beloved by the Prince is set in the land of Lacia, where spirits control the elements, each of which is overseen by a "Spirit King." On rare occasions, these Spirit Kings may bless a single human, granting them immense magical control over their respective element. The heroine, Amelia Logan, and the villainess, Claudia Leitzya, are two sides of the same coin, blessed by the Light and Dark Spirit Kings respectively. However, while Amelia is beloved, Claudia is hated and rejected due to her dark skin, ebony locks, and aptitude for dark magic. After dying in modern-day Japan, Sakura is reborn as an infant Claudia. While difficult at first, Claudia tries to adjust to this new life, all the while accompanied by the Dark Spirit King Gerald. But even this task is far from easy; people fear her at first glance, no matter how she acts toward them. Still, Claudia is set on changing her fate from the novel, proving she is a good person and breaking free from the shackles of a "villainess."

13. Rebirth of the Villainess: The Life of Letizia after the Engagement Annulment

For some reason, the duke's daughter, Letizia, was plotting to break her engagement with the prince. Her plan succeeded and the prince, none the wiser. But shortly after the engagement was terminated... The King collapsed! In that moment, she recalled her memories of her past life as a nurse and she fully utilised her knowledge & experience as a nurse, to save the King's life. Thinking she had achieved what she wanted, she thought she could finally relax, drinking her favourite beverage and leisurely spend her time, she instead somehow keeps getting involved in incident after incident. The slow and peaceful life is now nothing but a dream!? Lazy daughter, busy seeking freedom and laziness!

14. I Won't Become a Villainess. I'm Just a "Normal" Duke's Daughter!

A Japanese person reincarnated into an otome game chock full of death flags for the villainess, Rosalind. "I'm going to live an enjoyable life in this world!" Making full use of the game knowledge to avoid death flags, for some reason events keep happening one after another?! Contracting with spirits, helping her father (the prime minister) with his work using her modern day knowledge, taking a walk with the holy beast... and on top of all that, even starting up the heroine's event...? Will Rosalind be able to smash through every unknown death flag that comes her way...?! And will she be able to be fluffy lovey-dovey with the supporting beastkin character she liked from her previous life?!

Cute. Has beasts.

15. Milady Just Wants to Relax

She worked herself to death in her past life, but then she was reborn in another world as the villainess Ronia! As expected, her engagement is broken and she's expelled from society, but now she takes that chance to live peacefully, and even opens a cafe with the help of her fairy comrades, which is becoming unexpectedly popular with beast-kin...?

Also cute. Also has beasts.

16. I Swear I Won’t Bother You Again!

Violette, a proud and beautiful daughter of a duke, commits a crime out of jealousy towards her half-sister. Convicted, Violet faces her own heart with sincerity in a prison cell and regrets her sin. Then time rewinds to a turning point—to her first meeting with Maryjun one year ago. Violette makes a decision. She will not make mistakes this time. Without committing a crime and bothering anyone, she will live an ordinary, plain and inconspicuous life...! However, incidents contrary to Violette's expectations occur one after another...?!

17. I Became a Villain Daughter

On her 15th birthday, Hinase Kaede, a young girl who was working as a part-timer, perished in a traffic accident. Upon her death, a self-proclaimed “God” appeared, declaring that Kaede would be brought back to life. However, Kaede’s happiness was short-lived and her soul was thrown into Erika, the villainess of an otome game! In the original game, Erika became a saint candidate alongside the heroine, committed evil deeds over the course of the candidacy, and ultimately faced condemnation. Thus, Kaede decides that she will not get close to the main characters of the game so as to avoid the bad end, but yet——?

#manga #shoujo #shojo #shoujo manga #shojo manga #manga cap #romance #otome game #isekai #mangacap #shoujo recommendation #bakarina #bertia #endo and kobayashi’s live commentary on the villainess #fiancée's observation log of the self-proclaimed villainess #villainess

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missorgana · 3 years

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you shine, i'll shine for you

pairing: alina starkov/genya safin, background nina zenik/matthias helvar

fandom: shadow and bone (tv)

rating: general

word count: 5163

warning: referenced cheating, swearing

summary: Genya thought she’d seen it all, until today, where a young person her age rushes through the door and approaches her with a strange question, “What sort of flowers do you get to tell someone to go fuck themselves?” (flower shop au)

(a fluffy au that’s been loooong underway !! inspired by this post, naturally. had a bit too much fun searching up flower meanings as well so... hope you enjoy!)

read on ao3

Genya believes flowers speak their own language.

They show love, adoration, and everything in between, and there’s a reason they’re used for most special occasions, she thinks; although a staple gift when you barely know someone, they’re also an invitation to get to know someone better.

Like Nina and Matthias. It didn’t surprise her in the least that he wanted to ask Nina out, alas, he asked Genya for help on the bouquet, since he just started. The look on her friend’s face when she told her about their fast date was too precious.

And naturally, this is why she opened her little flower shop in the first place. She loved the area, homely and cozy, the atmosphere and the residents.

She’s helped their clients with gifts for any situation you could think of; a last minute anniversary gift, flower arrangements for that big fairytale wedding, the perfect Mother’s Day bouquet, and the businessman getting flowers for his beloved sister’s grave touched her deeply.

Genya thought she’d seen it all, until today, where a young person her age rushes through the door and approaches her with a strange question, “What sort of flowers do you get to tell someone to go fuck themselves?”

She’s simply baffled by the request.

The client’s got restless hands and fire in their eyes, dark hair in a braided bun and wearing a baby blue dress, neck and ears dressed with gold jewelry and a matching septum piercing. They’re almost glowing in the late autumn sun, to be completely honest.

In fact, they’re already reaching for their purse, while Genya tries to work through her confusion and do her best - this is an assignment like any other, she reminds herself, this is her job.

“Oh, uh, depends on the occasion, really…” she starts, and since the customer in front of her curses themself as they find their wallet, the clear anger on their face intensifying, she figures she’ll need to keep her cool, “If I may ask?”

In customer service you’ll have to deal with rude clientele, God knows Genya has, and although this person in no way seems like that type of person, she still keeps it a priority to not upset them anymore than someone else already has.

She smiles, giving them less of her staple customer service smile, more a hesitant smile because the client also sniffs, and wipes their eyes rather stubbornly before looking back at her.

They’re also more beautiful than sunflowers in bloom, that much is obvious. But someone’s hurt them, and it makes Genya’s heart ache for them with a stinging kind of certainty.

“Sure,” they reply, sniffling again, “My boyfriend’s cheated on me for the second time.”

Second time? Dear God.

Genya doesn’t even know this man, but she does know he’s an asshole, mind the language. She’s sure she must look shocked, because the client chuckles bitterly, clutching their wallet a bit tighter.

“I just need him to fuck off for good. It’s long overdue, really.”

She decides to smile again, nodding, hoping she’s conveying her sympathy right, “I understand.”

And since she gets a timid smile back, albeit still with clenched fists down their side, it makes Genya a little more sure of herself again. If the person wasn’t pretty before, they’re even prettier now. She mentally curses whoever this man is for making them this angry, and making them cry. No one deserves that, but especially not them, Genya thinks.

Luckily it’s a Monday, a slow day for flower sales, and they’re the only customer inside, so she’s reaching for her encyclopedia immediately.

“I do know a bit about flower meanings,” she explains to them, “It’s not common knowledge, but I got a few ideas.”

The client nods, satisfied, and their eyes turn a little less angry and more curious.

“What’s your budget?” she asks while flickering through the pages, and the person in front of her takes less than a second to answer, “The biggest you got, he- We were supposed to go to Paris, so I’ve been saving up. Got some money to blow.”

What a fucking douchebag. Again, excuse the language, but this really sounds like the sort of person who’s drink she would gladly spit in. She might be really excited for this bouquet, now. Serves him right.

Everything that jumps to her mind should be in stock, actually. Genya’s never had to look up negative meanings to the flowers before, admittedly, but she does find some scribbled notes in what appears to be Nina’s handwriting next to the black roses. Revenge roses. Okay, maybe a bit too sinister, but she’ll keep them in mind.

She finds herself moving out behind the counter before she knows it, and when she picks up the first bunch she notices her client looking over her shoulder in an adorable kind of confusion, so Genya speaks up, “These are yellow carnations, they signal disappointment.”

They nod again, the small smile on their lips growing just an inch brighter. Their hands seem more relaxed, she finds herself noticing.

“Perfect,” they approve, “Is there a hate flower, you think?”

The bluntness no longer surprises her, and since the client huffs at themselves, Genya returns the smile with more certainty. Fair enough, she decides.

“Yes, surprisingly enough,” she chuckles, “Orange lilies. I also have foxglove for insincerity?”

“Oh, definitely.”

“I thought so,” Genya likes this person, she decides, probably way more than she should for a complete stranger, but… can you blame her?

She likes the guts it takes to make a bouquet like this, to be honest. And it’s like they keep getting prettier and prettier the more Genya looks at them, is that crazy? Probably. Matthias would roll his eyes at her, but she and Nina both know how cheesy he actually is, so whatever.

This client is also getting a hate bouquet for a soon-to-be-ex, though, so she’s real with herself, she can’t allow herself to get attached or anything. Would be unprofessional, regardless, but she can admire them anyway, right?

“What else, what else…” Genya wanders a bit more, her client following in tow, she’s got the centerpieces, but the white of this flower would add nicely to the overall look, “Meadowsweet! It, uh, it stands for uselessness.”

The person in front of her lights even more up at the suggestion. She’s thrilled, because honestly, not only helping them but also maybe, possibly impressing this client is suddenly very important to her.

“Alright, I think that’ll do nicely,” she finally tells them, writing the names and price ranges down on her notepad. “Unless you want to add some geraniums, too?” The customer looks at the sample she shows them, biting their lip in contemplation.

“It’s beautiful,” they confess.

“It is,” she agrees, “But it also signals stupidity.”

They laugh at that, a ringing sound like bells or… butterfly wings, maybe. This is just about making Genya’s whole week right now.

“Yeah, I need those.”

And so it’s decided, and she returns to her counter with the notes and shows the client the different bouquet sizes. She figures they might need a card, too, “I don’t have any ‘Fuck you’ cards, unfortunately. Will a blank one be alright?”

They nod, more eager than ever.

“Actually,” they’re running their finger over the sheet with the sizes before looking back at Genya again, “I know this is a big ask, but I was gonna leave the bouquet at his office. Do you think… we could, maybe, cover his desk in these flowers?”

Yet another suggestion that has her standing wide-eyed.

The client chuckles at themself again and fumbles a strand of hair behind their ear, “I’ll pay whatever it costs, I promise. If it’s even possible, that is.”

Genya considers this, and well, it’s definitely possible, they’ve got enough stock for it. The same thing as decorating a chapel for a wedding, sort of, but on a smaller scale. It’s doable.

“I do think my delivery guy can carry it, actually,” she replies, hoping Matthias won’t ask too many questions, but oh well, “We would need entry to the building, though-”

“I have the keys.”

“Oh.”

This person is well prepared. Genya loves it.

“It’s just really a matter of how many bouquets will be needed…” she’s thinking hard, an office cubicle is what she imagines the client is talking about, not too hard to fill up, realistically, “20? Will that be plenty?”

They full-on grin, “God, yes. Make it 22. I, uh, I got cash.”

And so it’s sorted, and a promise of scheduling the delivery for Wednesday, said soon-to-be-ex’s next work day, is settled. Matthias delivers the flowers a little before 8, the customer lets him in and they carry the load together, foolproof plan, Genya’s sure. “This is his number, Matthias Helvar, if you have any trouble, running late or getting into the building, whatever it may be.”

“Thank you so much for this, seriously,” they’re smiling almost from ear to ear, and honestly, she’s a little embarrassed that making this particular person as happy as they appear to be is making her feel so… warm? “This is perfect. I cannot wait to see his face. And walk away.”

It’s a funny sort of bonding experience, or feels like it, less than a transaction.

Before the client leaves, Genya gets their contact information in return, and an excited wave as the doorbell rings them out. Alina Starkov, the card says, and she/they pronouns right underneath.

She wonders if she’ll ever see them again. She doubts it. But she hopes she’s wrong.

Genya does, in fact, see a particular client again, one that for some reason stays on her mind after the delivery is done and in the five weeks till she sees them again, embarrassingly enough.

Matthias didn’t ask a lot of questions, besides the wide eyes and then looking the happiest she’s seen him since Nina kissed him for the first time. He didn’t need convincing, to put it simply.

“Whoever this Alina is, they got some guts,” he laughed to her while they were packaging all those flowers for him, “Practically covered our expenses for the month.”

That’s true, it’s lovely, that pure luck that sometimes hits them like a flood.

She’s over the moon, but of course, she doesn’t mention the part of it being because of that person’s bright smile replacing dried tear stains, and how the change made Genya feel like she’s never done anything more important than making her happy. God, Safin, Nina is rubbing off on you.

The boy lets her know the delivery went smoothly, and that Alina thanked him profusely, but that’s as much as she knows before the bell rings on a late Thursday and Nina’s voice calls from the front of house and reaches to the back where Genya is currently cutting stems.

She dries off her hands in their signature lavender apron - credit to Nina for that, as well - you’d be surprised how dirty a day’s work can get, and Genya takes care not to ruin any of her many, many floral dresses. Yes, she wears florals only to work. Once again, sue her.

She’s not sure why her friend would need assistance, she rarely asks for it, yet, there she stands.

Alina Starkov gives her a smile once again, but it’s less timid today, in no way tearful, instead calm and curious. Like they’re happy to see her, almost.

“Genya! Hi!” she says, and she’s more than a little surprised, much like their first meeting. Did she ever introduce herself? “Sorry, I hope I’m not disturbing, I, uh, I told Nina how grateful I am for your help with you-know-who. Wanted to thank you in person.”

That’s just way too adorable, isn’t it?

She feels her smile growing without even controlling it, and the brunette next to her is definitely looking like she wants to ask some questions ( many questions), but she’ll have to wait, geez, Genya cannot be having a romance novel moment in her store of all places.

Realising she also has to collect herself while being in front of the client and her best friend, and not zone out because her inner hopeless romantic is firing up inside her, she decides to brush it off and try to act casual, somehow, “I’m just happy to help. I assume it went as planned, then?” “Better than planned, even. He’ll be regretting it for the rest of his life, I hope.”

Alina laughs, and Genya gets that warm flush inside her chest again. And out of the corner of her eye, Nina looks less curious and more just straight up smug. Damn her.

“I think Matthias is calling me,” is actually how Nina first speaks up, and while the client nods, like they’re away in thought, Genya sees right through her.

“I didn’t hear anything.”

“You didn’t?” her friend questions, tilting her head, already moving towards the door Genya just came through, “Oh, I did. Can’t leave him hanging, might be urgent.”

“Nina-”

“Back in a jiffy!”

She’s left alone with Alina. Which is fine, you know, they were alone when they first met, right- but listen, Genya is still very much thinking about the person saying her name and the realization that she is, of course, wearing a name tag hits simultaneously with another shock: she remembered her name.

Logically, that’s not out of the ordinary at all. Gosh.

But she knows it’s not because it’s a shocking experience and more that a person who’s as beautiful as them is smiling at her and that they might just be the prettiest person she’s ever seen and that the thought of making her happy is making Genya happy, believe it or not. She doesn’t understand why this is different from any of her other experiences, but it is.

She hasn’t seen a smile like theirs before, that she knows. It makes her feel all strange and bubbly, like drinking champagne.

However, Alina is speaking up again, so Genya desperately needs to get out of her head.

“I was actually… uh, wondering if you’re maybe able to help me out again?” she starts, looking a tiny bit nervous, “If you’re not busy, that is, oh my God.”

And maybe Genya shakes her head way too quickly, but sue her, “Not at all!”

The client grins, the blush in their cheeks surely must be from the cold wind outside, and it just makes them prettier, if that’s even possible. “You’re a lifesaver.”

Now, she’s gotten this nickname before. Of course those times weren’t from Alina, and she makes sure to hide just how flustered she’s becoming, shaking her head and swinging her hand, “Stop it. I’ll try my best, heh.”

Alina clears her throat before continuing, “My best friend’s coming home, I haven’t seen him in over a year, and… Do you have, like, friendship flowers? I wanna surprise him at the airport.”

Once again, the person in front of her is just downright adorable. It’s almost frustrating.

Genya chuckles, because she doesn’t need the encyclopedia for this request, and easily makes her way over to the roses.

The client looks over the bouquet she picks up with the very same joy as their first meeting. “Yellow rose is the friendship flower, actually! Usually put together with violets, but I can change it up if you want…?”

“No no no!” they hastily reply, already taking the offer of grabbing the bundle, looking down upon it with visible dimples and eyes shimmering with excitement, “They’re perfect. Mal’s gonna love them, I know it!”

“Ah, I hope so.”

She feels almost shy with all this flattery coming her way, especially from Alina, of course, and once more she thanks her just about five hundred times before hurrying out the shop, phone chiming in the distance.

Even after they’ve left, Genya still cannot believe they came back. And remembered her. Or like, specifically sought out her help, again. Huh.

Nina immediately peeks her head around the corner when the front door has shut, her face lit up like it’s Christmas Eve, “They seemed nice. And pretty.”

“Nina,” is all she can come up with, giving her best glare, while her best friend feigns innocence.

“Yes, Genya?”

“Don’t.”

“Don’t what?”

She sighs, “Just don’t.”

If Genya’s second encounter with Alina Starkov wasn’t surprising enough already, imagine her shock when she finds exactly this person entering her shop two months later. Events requiring flowers aren’t constant, which, again, is why she didn’t expect to see her ever again, but she’s not complaining, of course.

She’s working the counter when the door opening reveals Alina, their golden earrings present as always and her hair in two buns, wearing a cropped rainbow sweater and dungarees. Looking just as pretty as last time she saw them, oh God, that fluster’s coming right back.

Except she’s not alone this time. Alina’s got a taller stranger in tow, with curly hair, lip ring and pink floral shirt layered over possibly the most ridiculous graphic tee Genya’s ever laid her eyes upon.

Her recurring client waves when they spot her, heading straight to her, while their friend is almost spinning around in awe.

“Hello again,” Genya greets her, because fuck, she might just get excited over the mere sight of them. Meeting again. Is the universe trying to tell her something?

It’s an absurd thought that shouldn’t matter at all, get yourself together, she tells herself.

“Hi!” They seem even more excited than last time she saw them, and Genya wonders what the occasion could be before Alina continues, “How’ve you been?”

There’s that funny feeling again.

It’s kind of like a lump in her throat, this time, but still as bubbly and warm as before. It’s also just endearing for many different reasons, one being that she rarely gets customers twice, or thrice, and casual conversation is never as easy as theirs. She’s overthinking it, definitely.

“Busy, but good,” Genya tells her, and is about to return it, while remembering their companion, “You? And sorry, ah, I’m Genya.”

Alina’s eyes are like fireworks, almost, and she waves over her friend who’s entranced by the lilies. They’ve got a spring in their step as they make it over to them.

“This is Jesper,” they introduce them, and the tall stranger winks in greeting, “Jesper, this is Genya. I told him all about the shop, cause you’re like… the queen of flowers.”

Oh my God, why is she so sweet? It almost makes her feel embarrassed, the two of them looking at her as she imagines a blush rising just from the client’s words.

“Pleasure to meet you.”

“Right back at ya!” he replies, one hand in his pocket and another gesturing wildly in the air, “This is amazing, by the way. I see why Alina goes to you for stuff like this.”

Genya laughs, feeling strangely more comfortable and less nervous now. Still, she figures she should probably get to business, they wouldn’t have come here if they didn’t have a purchase in mind, right? As much as the compliments are much appreciated, Alina being the source of them is yet again making her slightly incapable of functioning normally.

She can only hope she’s improved at hiding crushes since high school, because, well… that is what this is. Genya can’t really lie to herself anymore, or pretend it’s nothing.

It’s making her slightly breathless, this person appearing and reappearing in her life.

But she does need to get over it, because as she tells herself every time, Alina is a customer and she is a salesperson. Her life isn’t a rom-com, as tragic as that may be.

“I hope your friend liked the flowers,” she said, not even needing to wait for a response as they lit up again and confirmed, dimpled smile and all, “Can I help you with anything today?”

Alina nods and hooks her arm with Jesper, “You know it. Friends of ours just got engaged, we wanna have a, uh… tiny celebration for them.”

“By that we mean surprise the shit out of them,” he follows with no hesitation, and Genya and Alina laugh, in syncron. Alright, that’s also totally fine.

“I’m sure we can figure something out for that,” she tells them. She figures flower meanings are less necessary this time around, and when she spots the bottle of champagne and heart shaped box in the client’s tote bag, she decides on a simple question, “Well, red roses are the classic. Most romantic. Do they have any favorite flowers or colors, and such?”

Jesper seems to be squinting in concentration, and Alina bites their lip. It’s quite endearing.

But the client’s eyes widen, then, and they blurt out with only a beat difference, “Pink!”

It comes out as a half-yell, actually, judging by the sweet elderly woman from down the block jumping in the other end of the shop, and Matthias nearly dropping the bunch of tulips he’s carrying onto the back of his bike wagon. The two look awfully apologetic during it all.

“Inej’s favorite color,” Alina explains with an embarrassed giggle, ducking their head, “It’s pink.”

Genya nods, “I see. How about… pink and white lilies, then?”

Jesper seems to smile in approval. “I like that. See, I would’ve just gone with pink roses.”

She gives them a sample, which they both seem pleased with, she hopes so at least, while chuckling once more at his statement, “Could work as well. But these are popular for gifts, they symbolise admiration.”

Her (favorite) client scrunches her nose with as big a grin as hers, already made up their mind, “I think she’ll love them.” And Genya, of course, feels a massive honor in helping them. Again. She can’t believe Alina’s come back two times. Gosh, she’s thinking too much.

“I’ll write these up for you, then,” she tells them while they’re already following her to the counter. At the same time, Jesper’s got furrowed brows in a thinkful sort of face, and Genya doesn’t really know if this is directed to Alina or herself, nevertheless he wonders aloud, “Not sure what my favorite flower is. You got one, Alina?”

“Duh,” the shorter person answers, without hesitation, “Sunflower. Everyone’s got one, right?

Sunflower .

In her mind, nothing else has made as much sense as this. This was the flower she first associated her client with, what their beauty could only be compared with. They shine, so much it’s near blinding Genya, at this point. Yes, she knows it’s cheesy, but it’s only in her head, after all.

Genya realises this question, however, is very much meant for her, and so she answers while typing in their total, bouquet already wrapped up to go, “I think so, yeah. I think your favorite means a lot for you, as a person.”

The taller man seems to consider this.

Then, “I like daffodils.”

“They mean rebirth,” she tells him, “Good choice.”

He looks pleased by her explanation. Alina seems to be the one deep in thought now, though, in fact, they’ve already paid and got the bunch in hand, Jesper saluting Genya in goodbye when the client asks, “What’s your favorite?”

As many times before, they never cease to surprise her, do they?

“My favorite flowers?”

She nods.

“Magnolias,” Genya needs no time to consider this, it’s easy, “Perseverance.”

Alina’s got her wide grin again, but… it changes, a little bit. It’s almost secretive. Promising. Regardless, Genya doesn’t know what to do with her thoughts about it, or the client bidding them their own farewell with, “Till next time!”

She’s quite sure this person will be the death of her, sooner or later.

And as if they could read her mind, Nina and Matthias appear at her side, the man’s arms crossed and her best friend’s arm around his waist, both looking at Genya like they could somehow dig into her brain and know all her secrets. They’re so annoying sometimes. When they’re not adorable. Mostly annoying, though.

“What are you two looking at?” she asks them, and the couple exchange a look before Nina grins.

“They asked for your favorite flower,” she says, her boyfriend nodding in agreement. Genya doesn’t know what to say.

“I know.”

Matthias cocks a brow, “You do?”

She scoffs in disbelief at whatever game they have going on, “Yes?”

Her best friend sighs and puts her free on her shoulder. She tilts her head, “Matthias asked for my favorite before our first date.”

Genya frowns. “I know.”

Nina then chuckles, because they’re both weird and wonderful at the same time, apparently, “You’re impossible.”

“I know what you’re suggesting, Nin,” she then says, because come on, it’s obvious what they’re implying. And it’s bullshit. It was just a question, you know? It must’ve been. Curiosity, that’s all. “But that is impossible.”

And because Nina’s looking at her in disbelief, she tilts her head in return, and her friend gives up on the staring contest soon enough. “Whatever you say, babe.”

As Genya expected, although much to her disappointment, it seems she won’t see anymore of her beautiful client with raven hair and smile like the sun itself, tragically.

It’s her own fault, really, getting… a bit too attached. She’s fine!

Of course Nina and Matthias are right about her crush, she already knew this. And a month after their last meeting, she admitted defeat just so they could get off her ass about it. Now, though, her best friend looks at her with a sad smile sometimes, like she can sense the disappointment that Alina’s presence is missing entirely from the shop.

They don’t have anything requiring flowers, she didn’t expect them to, all the time. And like, asking for Genya’s favorite flower didn’t mean anything, as her friends kept insisting. They were having a conversation. Customer and shop owner.

Why does she miss her? God, Genya needs to get a grip. It’s just a bit annoying, because she doesn’t feel bubbly and light anymore without Alina Starkov, and she still loves her job, of course , but maybe she does find herself a little bit jealous when the wedding season kicks in and the boutique is full of couples day in and day out, young and old, all looking at each other like no flower can compare to their love. It’s making her a little nauseous, not that she’ll ever admit it out loud.

Strangely enough, she does get a visit from a couple, a grumpy fellow and a woman with a soft smile, who never let go of each other’s hands while Genya sketched out ideas for the flower arrangement. They wanted geraniums. She somehow recalled her name: Inej Ghafa. And Kaz Brekker. Huh.

Matthias’ birthday passes, where Nina gets him cornflowers (of course), and a month later yet, a familiar face returns when Jesper stumbles in the door in excitement, eagerly purchasing a bouquet of irises for his boyfriend.

Even her mom’s in love, she tells her over the phone, and God, she’s happy for them all. Maybe Genya’s just been lonely too long.

She hadn’t even thought of dating in forever. Hadn’t thought of being single could possibly bore her, or tire her. Until, you know. Alina.

Whatever, whatever!

She’ll get over her stupid infatuation, eventually, she just needs to focus on her work, it was just a string of coindences, and once wedding season is over she’ll forget all about her favorite client who got away. Hopefully.

The universe has way, way different plans for her, though, apparently, because as she and Nina lock up for the evening, Matthias helping them carry the last load of a busy day even though this is technically his off-day (probably an excuse to be with his girlfriend even more, she suspects, but hey), Genya stops in her tracks in the parking lot.

The couple a few steps in front of her appear totally unfazed. They must know what’s going on.

And her suspicion is right, because Nina’s grinning from ear to ear when she looks back at her, “You okay, Gen?”

Genya blinks in disbelief.

Her car. It’s completely covered in… in magnolias. She can barely see any trace of her car, in fact, if it wasn’t for the lights blinking when she unlocked it.

What the hell is going on?

She’d had a rather normal day, busy but normal, and scheduled to drive back home to her mom for her birthday early tomorrow. But this is strange. Unreal. Not necessarily in a bad way, the flowers’ smell reaches her all the way over here, but just strange.

Matthias cocks his head and grabs Nina’s hand, “Aren’t you gonna look at your gift?”

“My… my gift?” she asks him, not sure what to say anymore. They definitely had a hand in this. “You already gave me gifts yesterday,” she tells them, dumbfounded.

Her best friend rolls her eyes, “It’s not from us, dummy.” “Who’s it from, then?”

“Shh! That’s a surprise.”

“Nina,” she warns, feeling the exhaustion take over her ever so quickly.

The brunette kisses her cheek and then tugs at her boyfriend’s arm towards her own car. Matthias winks. Screw them.

“Take a look!” they yell to her.

Well… okay then. Genya approaches her car slowly, only a little scared someone’ll jump out from the mountain of pink flowers and scare her half to death. Of course, this isn’t a prank, because her friends are bad at pranks, and the magnolias are so gorgeous she may be getting a little teary eyed.

These little ones reminded her to keep going, when she was at her lowest. It’s stupid, but she felt like she could overcome anything, learning the flower’s meaning and finding a blossom outside of her window back then, like a little reminder from the universe. That’s why they're her favorite. Perseverance.

Bugger, she should probably get started on digging her vehicle out from somewhere in there. Except… her eyes fall upon a little pink card, secured on the wiper. And on it, her name is written, in cursive, gold letters.

Her curiosity takes over, of course it bloody does, and she picks up the card immediately, and when she flips it over…

Is this a fever dream?

Happy early birthday, Genya Safin. Call me? Sincerest wishes (and apologies for the car, grand gesture), Alina Starkov.

This is most definitely a fever dream. Except the card is very real in her hands, and the smell of the magnolias embrace her like a warm hug, and her friends honk as they leave the lot, laughing audible even with the windows all the way up.

Alina’s phone number is written at the bottom, underlined and everything, with a tiny heart next to it.

A grand gesture. A grand romantic gesture, at that. Genya cannot for the life of her stop smiling, big and in shock and flushed and excitement flowing through her veins.

They remembered.

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oneboxofmatches · 3 years

Text

This is a request I did for the amazing @strawberry-caffeine -- she’s been so kind to me and it was an absolute joy to do this request!

A few things: With the length of the request, while I still included friendship matchups, I decided not to write out descriptions/explanations along with them. To (hopefully) make up for that, I put the #1 friendship choice in BOLD CAPITAL LETTERS with two other bonus characters I think you’d be good friends with in regular bold type (except for the Harry Potter: Marauders era because there aren’t many choices haha). I hope this is okay!!

Here we go!

--Supernatural--

I romantically pair you with…

JACK KLINE

You’re good at hyping your friends up? Please give this boy all the hype in the world -- he needs it.

Seriously though, one (out of many) of the reasons Jack loves you so, so much is how you’re able to talk him out of a slump. His constant doubts and insecurities regarding his identity plague him often, and the fact that you’re willing to both listen to him pour his heart out and still find a way to reassure him means the world.

Jack’s also still getting the hang of the whole “talking” thing, so you helping him along when a lull in the conversation arrives makes him feel supported.

Not only does your helpful nature benefit Jack, but it’s also one of his favorite traits of yours! He believes in a kind, just world and consistently seeing that from you never fails to bring a bright smile to his face.

Whenever you bottle up your feelings, however, Jack is admittedly at a loss at first. Though it would take patience, turning these moments into teaching opportunities will help him become more in tune with emotions over time.

During these moments, all he wants to do is help -- even before he really understands what’s going on. He’ll ask you what you need and rush to assist in any way he can. He hates seeing you hurt, it’s as simple as that.

Jack loves being around you because he learns so much, and you’re just as eager to teach him. Together, you learn to appreciate the little things in life because you both bring such different perspectives to the world.

Overall, the kindness you show Jack from the beginning is what drives your relationship, and he makes it his goal to make sure you know how loved and appreciated you are in return.

As a friend, I think you’d best be matched with…

CASTIEL, Garth Fitzgerald IV, Charlie Bradbury

--Harry Potter--

In the Golden Trio era, I romantically pair you with…

NEVILLE LONGBOTTOM

Honestly, Neville’s insecurities may make him feel a little intimidated by you at first. Thoughts like, “How could someone as friendly, energetic, and spontaneous as her ever love me of all people?” are pretty common in the early stages of your relationship.

Of course, you help Neville understand fairly quickly that you aren’t going anywhere. Because you’re so good at reading and interpreting emotions, you’re able to assist him with addressing these doubts head-on. These personal conversations are what truly solidify your trust in one another and serve as the strong foundations of a powerful bond.

Also, Neville really appreciates your ability to keep a conversation going. He sometimes struggles with this himself, but he’s relieved he doesn’t have to worry about these shortcomings when it comes to you. Talking with you just comes naturally.

While his verbal communication can use some work, Neville is one of the best listeners to have on-hand when it comes to any problems that arise in your life. Someone’s pushing you to your limit? Neville has all the patience in the world to let you rant so you don’t have to bottle up your feelings. Need to talk through solutions to personal issues? He’ll give you his undivided attention while you work your way around to an answer, providing feedback if you ask for it. Feel the need to ramble? Neville will not only listen, but he’ll actually take a genuine interest in whatever it is you’re talking about.

While he otherwise second-guesses all his decisions, Neville surprisingly really enjoys venturing on unplanned, impulsive adventures with you. A favorite for the both of you is exploring areas on the grounds or in nature. You’re usually the one to charge ahead, excitedly talking while Neville hangs back a few steps. He takes in his surroundings, sure, but mostly he’s just watching you and simply feeling happy from the joy you radiate.

Speaking of things you love to do together, gardening is near the top of the list! One of Neville’s deepest passions is botany, and he doesn’t share his knowledge with just anyone. Seeing you take a true interest in your shared garden gives him all the warmest, fuzziest feelings imaginable.

Overall, you’re the one to bring Neville out of his shell, and he’s the one who takes time to listen to you. You bring out the best in each other, and your unbreakable bond makes the two of you fiercely loyal until the end.

As a friend, I think you’d best be matched with…

LUNA LOVEGOOD, Nymphadora Tonks, Molly Weasley

In the Marauders era, I romantically pair you with…

REMUS LUPIN

You want to talk about one of the most understanding and patient individuals out there? It’s this one.

While Remus isn’t always keen on discussing his own emotions, he is very astute when it comes to sensing the well-being of others. Whether you’re burnt out, overwhelmed, on the verge of a breakdown or something bad just happened to happen to you that day, he knows.

Having people like James and Sirius as friends has taught him both how to tune in to the ramblings of a hyper person as well as how to utilize selective hearing. Remus realizes that he never wants to use that second skill with you. Unlike his friends (who he loves very much, mind you) he wants to take in everything you tell him.

It’s this active listening that makes Remus an excellent gift giver. A majority of the things he gives you are from offhand comments that you don’t think twice about making in the moment.

One of Remus’s absolute favorite things about you is the way your eyes light up when you talk about something you’re passionate about. He finds this trait so endearing, and it’s an easy way to make him smile.

Caring for you when your thoughts are traveling especially fast becomes second nature to Remus. Whenever he knows that he’ll see you, he always has at least one outlet (pen/paper, alcohol marker, etc.) for you. He’s also more than fine with you drawing something on his hand if you’d like -- he loves watching you work and he also gets to walk away with something that can remind him of you!

Remus also excels in history, reading, and writing, so I can definitely see many conversations between you two that revolve around these subjects. Also, after both of you complete your own essays, I believe proofreading and/or discussing each other’s work would become a habit of yours.

Overall, the shared ability to read and interpret emotions as well as the simple wish to care for one another draw you two together to form the sweetest couple around!

As a friend, I think you’d best be matched with…

LILY EVANS

--Marvel Cinematic Universe--

I romantically pair you with…

PIETRO MAXIMOFF

Pietro was first drawn to how easily you can hold a conversation. He recognized immediately how easy it was to joke around with you once you warmed up (which didn’t take long -- Pietro’s somewhat gifted with the power of easy conversation himself). You both felt comfortable around each other relatively quickly.

Yes, Pietro’s known for his impossibly quick movements, but no one stops to think that this requires impossibly quick thinking. While Pietro has had some time to grab somewhat of a hold on his abilities, he still struggles with thoughts that just move too fast for him. You show him some of your tactics for dealing with this, and it literally changes his life.

Up until that point, your interactions had been mostly fun and rather lighthearted. But helping Pietro in such a thoughtful way and relating to him on a level that no one usually can made him see you in a different life. That’s how he knew he loved you.

This can be a chaotic relationship at times to say the least.

Many of your conversations can hardly be followed because you often build off of each other’s energy. While your quick minds are often on the same page, a third person might not be able to keep up.

Pietro does NOT hesitate when it comes to standing up for you. As soon as he learned about your people-pleasing habit, he took it upon himself to be on guard for anyone who could possibly take advantage of you. While you may find it hard to say no, Pietro has no problem stepping in and telling someone to back off.

You might feel as if he goes a little overboard with this sometimes, telling him that it “wasn’t right to be mean to that person.” He’ll just glance at you, shake his head and start up a lecture (albeit not a harsh one -- he really does care about you!) about asserting personal boundaries.

Pietro and his ego LOVE compliments, so you can expect a welcome reaction to each one you give him.

He’s also a big fan of going on spontaneous trips, discovering different parts of the world side by side.

But he’ll also settle for getting to hold you while you two talk about your day.

Overall, Pietro has no problem matching your energy, and you both want nothing more than to discover the adventures life has to offer together.

As a friend, I think you’d best be matched with…

VISION, Thor, Tony Stark

--Hamilton--

I romantically pair you with…

JOHN LAURENS

John has a lot of respect for someone who manages to include everyone, so it’s no wonder you caught his eye.

First impressions already told him you were friendly and empathetic, but discovering the more energetic and spontaneous side of you? Yep, he was in love.

Both of you have always had a desire to help people, so being able to do that with someone who shares the same passion and energy feels special. You’re more than a couple; you’re a team.

Whenever John’s troubled by what’s going on in the world, it doesn’t take him long to turn to you. He’s one of the most stubborn people alive when it comes to admitting he needs help, but all he knows is that talking to you seems to relieve him of some of that load (please be patient with him!!).

Meanwhile, he knows you have your own ways of coping with racing thoughts so he feels comfortable giving you space when you need it. If what you need is a person to listen, however, he’s there in a heartbeat.

Serious topics aside, you two just know how to have fun! Between your friendly personalities that naturally draw others in and your impulsive natures that (most of the time) lead you to exciting experiences, you make so many mutual friends! Sharing a group of close friends -- surprise, surprise -- brings you and John even closer.

Overall, you and John can always be found by each other’s side when facing whatever comes your way, good or bad.

As a friend, I think you’d best be matched with…

PHILIP HAMILTON, Marquis de Lafayette, Peggy Schuyler

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whump-town · 4 years

Text

“It’s a Date”

@random-ravings this is for you... I know you asked for a full blown date night but for some reason I am unable to do it to the fullest. I also don’t know enough about romantic get away but I do hope this suffices

“Do you trust me?”

She’s not sure what level of insanity she must have been on the other night to think that her slip up at JJ’s wedding would be forgotten by her anal rentenive boss. Low and behold, here he sits in her drive-way trying to coerce her into his black jeep with the promise of a get away looming ahead of them. Of course, the details of said adventure are hidden behind the dark shades covering his soft eyes but his warm smile is pulling her in. Despite the cold knife of trust issues reminding her that he’s only being nice because he feels bad for her.

Not because of the way he’d held her as they danced. Or the spark that her touches sends down his spine, leaving him shuddering and reaching for more. As if she’s a cigarette to place between his teeth and draw a healthy pull off of. She’s the kindest person he knows and no matter how much distance he puts between them he craves her like nicotine in his lungs.

He always comes back wanting more.

Behind her own sunglasses, she sizes up his jeep. It’s not really what she was expecting but when is Aaron Hotchner ever predictable? Picking up the suitcase at her ankles, she shakes her head finally coming to answer the question he’d proposed upon placing the car in park. An inquiry on trust. She trusts him with her life-- with her heart-- but she doesn’t risk the reaction the truth has. “About as far as I can throw you,” she grumbles with an eye-roll and a smirk she can’t contain.

The soft chuckle that leaves his mouth has her head jerking, frowning at the sound she hasn’t heard enough of to consider he’d made it. Her reaction only makes the smile on his face grow and she stands for a loaded second just basking in the warmth that placing that smile on his face gives her. She has to shake her head to pull her thoughts back to the problem at hand-- Hotch and whatever trick he has up his sleeve.

“So,” she tosses her bag in the back beside one that’s identical to her own. Out of habit, she bites her tongue instead of observing that ‘great minds think alike’. If Reid were here he’d conclude ‘fools seldom differ’. Hotch might not come to that same conclusion but it’s too late to tell. “Where are we going?”

Hotch takes a moment to respond. He puts the car into reverse, pulling out of her driveway in a swift but solid motion. It’s easy to forget that Hotch really is a good driver-- even if he spends a lot of government hours bashing the cars he’s driving into UNSUBs. He has a lack of regard when it comes to his own life.

She wonders why.

“We’re on vacation time,” comes his answer, a strange crooked, care-free nature to the smile he flashes her way. There’s something youthful about it. She imagines he used to be like this all time. Quick with a joke and lighthearted before the job weighed him down.

She nods, pulling her bottom lip between her teeth to worry at it. He hasn’t told her much about the excursions besides to dress for the weather and to bring a nice outfit for a fancy dinner. The amount of things that could mean worries her more than she’d like to admit.

He catches sight of the anxious frown she settles on his dash and decides that the gig is up. Besides, how much fun can his plans be if she’s not equally as excited? He clears his throat, “there’s this B&B that JJ always gushes about--”

Emily’s eyes light up, “The Monty House?”

He chuckles at her clear excitement. Her voice had gone up, softening considerably like the way Jack might shout-out when offered a bowl of ice cream before bed. If he’d known it would be this easy to make her happy he might have done this silly little trip a long time ago.

Actually, that is a lie. His nerves have been wracked for the better part of the last week since he made the reservation. There’s no way he could have done this without the prompting of both her ‘It’s a date’ and the dance they shared at JJ’s wedding.

Admittedly, he can be a bit of a coward but his heart is pretty damaged. He’s not sure he can handle Emily stomping on it.

Judging from the smile lighting up her face though, heart stomping isn’t on the agenda. In fact, she could kiss him.

“Yeah.” His shoulders relax as the tension leaves his body in the nervous chuckle he lets out. His hands get some blood back as his grip on the wheel loosens, his poor knuckles returning to a fleshy tone instead of bone white. “The-The Monty House,” it feels good to have that off his chest. “The whole weekend.” Of course, he won’t tell her everything he has planned. No point in spoiling the whole weekend.

He finds himself smiling. How does she do that to him? Twist his stomach in knots with her silence and then have him smiling so hard his face hurts the next second.

“Does that mean we’re stopping for road snacks?”

There are few instances when they drive to crime scenes but on occasion a crime only warrants sending two agents. It’s no secret that on those particular occasions, he prefers going with Emily. She’s comfortable in their joined silence unlike Reid who anxiously fills it. There’s no pressure to talk about his personal life like with Dave who’s endless lines of question never seem to stop.

With Emily there is just… ease.

And snacks. Lots of snacks.

“Check the glove compartment,” he says with a smile. He knew she’d need refreshments even for a simple two and a half-hour road trip. He knows a lot about her actually.

She raises an eyebrow and, sure enough, she finds his glove compartment filled with snacks. There’s a red gatorade along with the SweetTart Ropes, Sunchips, and Peanut Butter & Jelly sandwich. It’s the kind of thing that looks like a thoughtless addition. Red gatorade is a straightforward go to drink but she knows it’s more than that. It’s the only gatorade she likes and he knows that.

Just like he knows her favorite chips are Sunchips and that she thinks PB&Js are a timeless classic.

“Aaron Hotchner,” she smiles at the little collection of snacks in her lap. “You’re the sweetest man I have ever met.”

Hotch feels his face get impossible hot, despite the cool air coming in through the window beside his head. He can’t look at her because he knows she’ll see the blush and the last thing he needs is giving her that power. Not when he’s got a whole weekend to spend with her and countless opportunities to bring up him blushing like a schoolgirl over a compliment. He clears his throat, “uhm, thank you.”

Fifteen minutes in and she’s already getting the better of him… good God how are the next two hours going to pan out?

“Good God!”

Her sudden outburst causes him to jump in his seat. The car doesn’t jerk or accelerate but he’s good and jostled from the comfort he’d settled in. He looks over at her, eyebrows going up as he realizes she’s looking at him. “What?”

Oh.

She looks smacked with worry, the kind that he knows isn’t going to go away easily. “When was the last time you slept?”

There’s always the option to play dumb but from his experiance attempting to pull one over on Dave-- it’s very unbecoming. He can always tell the truth but that’s about as good of an idea as leveling his loaded service weapon to his temple. He could meet her half-way. Exclude all bits involving Beth-- that she’d broken up with him after JJ’s wedding. Something she’d been thinking about doing anyways but after seeing him with Emily there were things she, evidently, couldn’t avoid.

But he’s still got to explain how that was nearly a week ago.

He clears his throat, pulling his sunglasses back into place-- hiding the evidence. “Uhm,” he’s really bad at buying himself time and each second that passes means another moment she’s going to weigh whatever lie he comes up with. So he settles for a truth, just not all of it. “You’re not the only one who’s had a bad week.”

There’s a soft moment of contemplative silence shared between them as Emily considers exactly what that means. It sounds straightforward enough but Hotch is admitting to something being wrong and that’s not as simple as one plus one is two.

“Do you…” she licks her lips, unsure of exactly what it is she should do. She knows what he would say to her but the giving and taking of their relationship hasn’t been set up. “Do you want to talk about it?”

He grimaces at that offer but he realizes that’s unfair of him. He’s asked her to admit to him when she needs help. To her credit, she has on multiple occasions. So, it’s wrong to ask that of her and then put up his walls. This is no easier for her than it is for him.

“You wanna make another deal?” she asks. She reaches over and pokes him in the side with one of her candies, smiling when she bites into it. He raises an eyebrow at her, shaking his head. No matter how much time he spends with her… she never ceases to confuse and exasperate him. Even now, chewing on candy and trying to pry into his mind. “If I have to tell you when I’m having a bad day, you have to tell me.”

He grunts, raising his eyebrows but turning his attention to the road. He hates that idea. He can’t and won’t lie about that but is that not the same ultimatum he gave her? The instances are fundamentally different-- the trauma she was reeling from was fresh in all of their minds and he could be a sympathetic ear to that. Especially, if hearing about the worst parts of her day granted her a longer stay with them.

With him.

Now, it’s a little different. The things he needs to tell her about are a lot more personal. It’s not about the connection of Foyet and Doyle-- the sheer thought of which sends a cold chill down his back. Now if she wanted to talk about that he would still be adamant but, at least, it would be helpful.

“Aaron?”

He snaps away from his thoughts, having worked up a slight cold sweat from the directions of his thoughts. He shouldn’t be thinking about Foyet. That won’t help anyone. With a shake of his head he stutters a confirmation to her idea. “Uh-Yeah, s-sure.”

His eyes are on the road but he’s about a million miles away. He just keeps thinking about Foyet.

Emily’s not sure what to do.

Hotch is her friend. In many aspects, her best friend and as jouveline as those words are often made to sound she means it in the most sincere way. She trusts him with her life and beyond that, in ways that she’s not yet encountered. She means that when she comes to a crossroads in her life he is always there.

Just like now, as she grapples with the decision to leave for London or stay. He’s her right-hand man and… now, she’s uncertain as to how she should repay that.

Of how she can.

It feels like an endless pit separating them. She starts there.

He’s driving with his left hand, leaving the right to rest limply in his lap while the other’s knuckles turn white with the tension his whole body is failing to hide. Silently, she reaches over and nudges his forearm with her hand. He scowls down at her hand, confused but he caves and moves his it.

He huffs a little when she takes his hand. Surprised more than anything else. The only hand he’s held in years is Jack’s and, even now, Jack’s getting too big for that.

“I do mean it,” she says, giving his fingers a tentative squeeze. “You’ve heard all my stories. You know all my drama…” She smiles, just thinking about it. “I think I can handle what little drama Aaron Hotchner encounters in his day to day life.”

He chuckles at that. It’s a good point. His life isn’t chocked full of twists and turns. Jack has some interesting moments-- mostly his bully turned best friend Paul. She already knows about that though. That leaves nothing really. What’s he so afraid of?

“Alright,” he relents, returning her gentle squeeze. He clears his throat, “but can we talk about it later? After--”

She cuts him off, “we can talk about it whenever you feel comfortable.”

Something in his chest settles and he relaxes. He doesn’t notice until several minutes later but he doesn’t pull his hand away from hers.

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

They were supposed to get two rooms but that’s too much to ask for and they end up in a room with two twin size mattresses an arms length away. Neither are that worried with the proximity. As far as sleeping arrangements go, this is still better than about 90% of the hotels they’ve stayed in over the years.

The problem is what might haunt them at night.

The last thing Emily wants is to wake Hotch up in the middle of the night thrashing like a heathen possessed but the freaking devil because her subconscious loves to taunt her with Ian Doyle.

Talk about making things awkward between them.

It doesn’t seem to bother Hotch though. The first thing he does upon putting their bags at the ends of their beds is collapse onto a bed. He doesn’t move for a solid five minutes, just lays on his stomach, face down. She’s starting to worry about him-- hoping he’s just managed to fall asleep and not dead-- when he groans and sits back up.

He runs a hand through his bedhead and Emily has to look away-- damn, that shouldn’t be as hot as it is.

“You up for anything on this itinerary?”

She can’t turn around because she's very aware of the fact that he’s standing right behind her. He offers her the booklet and she takes it, unable to breathe until he takes a step back. She can hear the sound his five o’clock shadow makes as he scratches at his chin and-- good God give her a freaking break her heart can’t take this.

“Uhm,” she keeps her eyes trained on the paper but for the life of her she can’t focus on the words. She just keeps thinking about the fact that Aaron Hotchner is about a foot away looking drowsy and soft. He looks like he’s dead on his feet. “Why don’t we just get dinner and go to bed early?”

As much as he wants to just agree with her and call it a night-- he’s adamant that she actually wants that. “Are you sure?”

She nods, “yeah. You’re tired--”

He stands, shaking his head. “No,” he tells her. “We’re here so that you can relax. I can handle whatever it is that you want to do.” He takes the booklet back, flipping through it and looking down the list. He scowls in concentration and she finds it endearing but also hardheadily aggravating.

“Hotch, I mean it.”

He finds one and points at it, asking, “how about a massage?”

She rolls her eyes. “Aaron,” she says, folding the booklet up despite his light attempts to tell her no. “I just want to eat some dinner and go to bed.”

He deflates a little… he wants her to have a fun time and he feels like she’s giving that up because of him.

“I mean it.” She starts to pull at her hair, raking her fingers through her thick hair to work it into a ponytail. “Besides,” she says, “JJ said they have a killer grilled cheese and I’ve been dying to find out if that’s true.”

That he believes.

So they have grilled cheese in the room, passing small talk back and forth. Emily finds Jurassic Park on the TV and at nine thirty when he turns his bedside light off, he reassures she’s fine to leave her own. Even if it makes her feel pretty silly that she’s managed to get herself worked up over a PG-13 movie from the 90s.

She is fighting her own fitful sleep when she hears the soft sound he makes from the other bed. Everytime she closes her eyes Ian Doyle is right there. Blood seeps between his teeth and, this time, Hotch is there too. Ian draws a knife close to Hotch’s throat, it’s bared for easy access by the tight grip Ian has on Hotch’s hair.

She wakes just as the blade draws blood.

Judging from pained grunt Hotch lets out, her demons aren’t the only ones coming out tonight.

“Hotch?” She’s not entirely sure what she should do. Hotch’s hearing has been on the mend for the better part of five years. It’s not his strongest sense-- they’d all found better ways to his attention than calling out his name but right now waving a hand at him or throwing a piece of crumpled paper isn’t going to get the job done.

“Hotch!”

She stumbles back as he sits bolt upright, his breathing ragged. For a moment, she sits stunned on her bed. Watching as he looks down at the comforter across his legs, unable to place where he is. She can hear his breathing become more distressed, a wheezing groan tearing from his mouth as he raises his head to look around.

“Hotch?”

His left hand comes up to his chest, clenching his t-shirt tight in his fist. He’s steadily working himself up.

She stands up, calling his name softly again and frowning when he doesn't look at her. “Aaron,” she hesitates just a step from the bed. He looks up just as she stops, tears streaming down his face, and she can’t bear the sight. “Oh, sweetie.” She climbs into his bed and pulls him into a hug. He shakes in her arms and her heart breaks for him.

He always stops and checks up on her but… what has he been hiding from them to let things get this bad?

“So, we’ve both been having some bad days.” She buries her face into his shoulder, breathing in the steady and warm scent of Hotch. She’s unable to pick apart the distinct parts of the way he smells. There’s aftershave and deodorant but also laundry detergent and… he smells the way home does. Distinct and safe. She’d know him if she were blind and deaf and scared out of her mind.

Aaron.

He leans into her touch but the way she holds him isn’t making it easier to breathe. Her fingers spread out on his neck, working against the way his hair grows to scratch as his scalp. He feels himself melting into her and in return, she does the same.

They’re just a puddle of humans. Welded together. Neither is able to escape the hold of either. She’s practically sitting in his lap and, in return, he’s wrapped a leg around her back.

“Why weren’t you sleeping?” he asks, voice muffled by her shirt. He’s settled back down, able to pull in a steady stream of oxygen. It doesn't get caught in his throat. What it’s doing is letting the exhaustion creep back into his bones. He’s too weary to rest.

Emily pauses just long enough to realize that there’s no way he’s going to believe her if she says anything besides the truth. At the same time… “Who said I wasn’t,” she whispers, wincing at just how much her voice betrays her. She moves and presses her face into his shoulder, squeezing her eyes tight with the false hope he’ll let it go.

She can feel the way he tenses, regardless of the fact that he doesn’t believe her.

There’s still a small inkling in the back of his mind that says-- you woke her up.

“Nightmares,” she finally answers. His fingers spread across her back, thumb trailing spine. “Doyle--” she hates the way he tenses at the mention of the other man’s name. She’d done everything to protect them and all she’d done was hurt them worse. She certainly made things worse for him. Forced him to lie to the only family he has to protect her-- a woman who lied about her career and entered his team to blackmail him.

But he eases after a moment. He rubs his hand up her back, offering her the same comfort she’d extended.

She sinks into his chest. “Doyle was going to kill you,” she whispers. Her tears run hot and he can feel through his shirt.

He presses a kiss to her hairline. He holds her to him, shaking his head. “It’s alright now,” he promises, throat thick. He’s painfully reminded of his own dreams. Waking up and having to scrub his hands in the sink to reassure himself that his subconscious has just been very unkind. That her blood is not caked under his nails.

That she’s home.

Sleeping.

Alive.

He wonders how many cadets the two of them could scare away. Tell a room full of kids-- that’s what she was when she was scouted out of college-- that taking that oath means more than they’re currently able to give. It’s the nine stab wounds on his chest. It’s talking serial killers down from suicide even when as they stand to realize the world would be a better place if they through with it. It’s demons that you can never really get away from.

“Can we just…” she wants to ask him to just hold her. To spend the night like this. She loses her nerve. Swallowing thickly around the tightness in her throat, she leans back from his shoulder. There’s only an inch of space between their faces. Her hands reach for him on it’s own accord, her thumb tracing his jawline.

“Emily,” he whispers, his eyes moving back and forth between hers. Unable to figure out what he should do.

She looks down at his lips, her cheeks burning.

“I-I don’t want you to do anything you might regret,” he manages, eyes giving away the vulnerability behind the statement.

She kisses him. It’s a hungry, desperate kiss that he leans into. “Something like that?” she asks a moment later.

He nods, unable to find words.

“Can we just lay here,” she asks. “Will you just hold me?”

He nods, can’t trust his voice.

She trusts him though. She falls asleep in his arms.

He lays there for the longest time. Her head is tucked under his chin and, even in her sleep, she’s holding his hand.

The ceiling turns.

His anxiety is creeping up but each time he gets to the point of hyperventilation she moves a little in her sleep.

She doesn't know what she’s getting herself into.

She’s not going to love him.

Not for long.

“Aaron?” She blinks and pulls the blanket up to their chins. “Go to sleep.”

#criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #hotchniss #hotly #aaron hotchner #emily prentiss

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braindeadskeletons · 4 years

Note

Could I have a matchup pls? I’m pansexual and gender-fluid (but I usually go by female pronouns), and have a slightly unhealthy obsession with rainbows and glitter. I don’t usually go out much, but that’s because I don’t like being by myself, and I don’t really have anyone to go with. I have ADD and anxiety, so that’s a bit of a train wreck. I have a HUGE hyper-fixation on space, and love soft cute things. I also really enjoy biology and science in general. (Sorry Imma have to take another ask)

I love all and every animal ever (probably, I haven’t actually seen them all) and own a hairless cat. I can and will read everything I can get my hands on within 2 hrs of getting it, unless it’s written poorly. I play the viola, and will sometimes draw or write in my spare time. I hate all physical activity no matter what it is. I’m pretty non-confrontational for the most part, but the second you hurt one of mine, I won’t hold back. And I’m told I can be terrifying when I want to be.

Hi there, of course you can! Don’t apologize for taking up two asks it’s perfectly fine, and it even helps me out a bunch! More information = more for me to write about you and your match! Alright so admittedly while I was reading your information you had me stumped for a really long time. I considered giving you a match with the original Sans but then once I started writing I realized ‘hey you’re going off of nothing except that they both think science and space are cool. That's no good.’ It’s not that Sans wasn’t a good option for a match but I felt like there was another skeleton who fit the bill a bit better. Which is why I chose the skeleton below.

I match you Horrortale Sans!

Alright so! To start us off in a relationship with this big goober you would need to know a couple of immediate ground rules. Sans has been through so much in the underground. It feels amazing for him to finally be on the surface, be out of the old sentry job, and to see everyone including his brother being well fed. That’s all good and well and mentally he’s doing so much better but the fear is still deeply ingrained in his mind. Back home he was told by Papyrus to not go anywhere without him so that no harm would come to either of them. Sans was always the one taking care of Papyrus yes, but he still only has one hp. An easy meal. Yeah, above ground that doesn’t need to hold true anymore but he still feels like he needs to go places with at least one other person. It’s typically his own brother since it’s so comforting to have a familiar face and someone who gets it by his side, but sometimes Papyrus can’t be there. In those cases, he always wants to go with you. He knows that you don’t like being by yourself and he deeply relates to that feeling and doesn’t want that for you either. If you’re with him he can watch you and know that you’re safe. He’ll happily accompany you and hold your hand as you two go out grocery shopping, walking in a park, going to see a movie, etc. Anywhere you go, Sans is right behind you and he’s just a shout away if you ever need him. You’ll never feel alone with this absolute cutie of a skeleton by your side.

The times where you two go outside are going to be rare though. He dislikes it as much as you do. It feels unsafe, everyone gives him weird glances because of his appearance, and overall it’s never much fun. He doesn’t care about other people's opinion but still, the staring does bother him. But with you, everything can change! Sans feels safe with you because of how much trust he has in you and how much he adores you. Even if someone does give him weird looks if he’s outside with you none of it will matter. He’s only focused on the cute human by his side, how much he loves them, and how much you make him happy. He can only hope you feel the same way about him since he’d much rather stay inside and spend time with only you instead. Sans's main priority is to make sure you and him both feel safe, are well-fed and happy. His protective nature easily shows. He knows that you can handle yourself well and that you can be terrifying when you need to be, but he also knows that you’d rather not confront people yourself. Just more justification to him as to why he needs to be by your side. It doesn’t hurt that going outside means that he can protect you from the other humans he does not trust

Speaking of feeling safe, Horrortale Sans is honestly the most understanding of the Sanses when it comes to anxiety. He knows how it feels to live day to day life with a creeping sense of unease (to put it lightly) in your stomach even if everything is alright. He hates that you feel this way and will do anything to help you deal with it. If you feel awful at any point you can count on him. Do you need him to breathe with you? Would you like a hug if that would help ground you? Do you just need some space? Anything that you need he will provide. The same attitude is given in response to your ADD. Hell, he even handmakes some fidget toys for you if that’s something that you enjoy. Now that he’s above ground he wants to try and be who he used to be, and that includes building and tinkering in his new lab. If you ask him, he'll absolutely put those skills into making something that’ll help you out.

Sans adores hearing you talk about the things you enjoy. He’s getting back into his own hobbies now that he has the materials and time for all of them. If you ever want to talk to him about biology, any scientific or space he’s always there to listen. He may not completely understand everything you say but he’s slightly familiar since once upon a time he was just as passionate as you were about science. The head injury just made him forget about a large chunk of the information he used to know. Sans will be more than happy to learn about anything you want to teach him, and he’ll even make notes of what you say since his memory is so screwed up.

With your interest in space, Sans will definitely be taking you to go stargazing. If there’s one thing that he will completely understand it’s the beauty of the stars. As mentioned before, he doesn’t remember half of what he used to know about space but that’s where you come in. You can point out the stars and constellations to him and tell him everything you know about the planets and he’ll be hanging on to every word. You make him want to be the old skeleton he used to be, and seeing you underneath the starlight only reminds him of why he fell in love with you in the first place.

This is a really weird fact about Sans but for some reason, animals really seem to like him?? They love him a lot more than the humans do, excluding yourself of course. Nobody really understands it. If you ever go out to a place like a park it’ll probably go something like:

----------

You: hey sans I bought us some nice cream and-

You: uh

You: wh-

You: what do you got there buddy?

Horrortale Sans, holding a squirrel:

Horrortale Sans: ….friend….

You: oh my god-

You: can I pet it???

Horrortale Sans:

Horrortale Sans: [nods]

----------

It’s honestly so adorable. He just attracts them, what can he say? It’s really a good thing that you love animals so much because either way, Sans attracts a lot to him. Sometimes he’ll come home with hurt animals just to help them out. Dating him is going to be heaven for you. Honestly, with Sans comes the animals it’s a whole package deal. You really wouldn’t have to worry about your cat not getting along with him. Sans will win your baby over one way or another. It’s guaranteed.

Since you like reading so much, Sans will pretty much give you books on a daily basis. Does it make you happy? Well he’s gonna get it for you. Not up for debate. It’s yours now. He supports anything you like, which includes viola, drawing, and writing. Though you may not write and draw as much as you play he’ll still support your works immensely. Taking your art to carry with him in his jacket pocket, reading everything you write, he’ll even give you ideas for some writing but be warned that most (all) of the ideas will be morbid. His favorite time to spend with you is when you just play on your viola as he sits and listens. Listening to you play is so soothing, and seeing your adorable face light up once you finish looking for his approval just makes his day.

#god #this is literally so soft #i have such a soft spot for Horror i'm sorry if i got carried away #thank you so much for sending this in!#Undertale matchup #matchup #horrortale #horrortale x reader #horrortale sans #horrortale sans x reader #x reader #reader #y/n

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litwitlady · 4 years

Text

When You Go, Take Me With You

On a warm July morning, Thomas Mann – not his real name, mind you – finds himself hauling ass down 285, praying that the airstream doesn’t come unhitched. Tommy has spent the last 11 months in Santa Fe grifting seniors in assisted living facilities out of their hard-earned nest eggs. But someone’s greedy little grandson finally noticed his grandmother’s savings dwindling away and called the authorities. He’s been riding hard all night and can’t remember the last time he ate. But he’s got a rap sheet three pages long and knows if he gets caught, he’ll never see the light of day again.

Eventually, his stomach wears him down, though, and he stops in Roswell at a kitschy little diner he hopes he can disappear into long enough to satisfy his basic needs. Halfway through his cheese fries, three sheriff’s deputies walk in and as they are chatting with the waitress at the counter, Tommy sneaks out and takes the scenic route back towards his pickup. He can’t really say he’s much surprised to find the actual Sheriff knocking on the airstream’s door. Knowing he’s lost this battle, he decides to cut his losses and run. The old Ford pickup is eventually auctioned off, but the airstream ends up in the impound lot collecting dust for the next year.

And then one day Michael Guerin accidentally illegally parks his truck on the Long farm where he promptly passes out drunk across the bench seat. Daddy Long calls the Sheriff and Michael’s arrested. Again. Max bails him out and drives him over to the Chavez County impound lot to collect his truck. And that’s where Michael Guerin falls in love for the second time in his life. The shiny, silver airstream gleams in the morning sunlight and he’s never seen anything more beautiful. Not in a long while, anyway. He convinces Max to bargain with the county in order to buy the airstream for him. Michael knows they will laugh him out of the precinct, but Max is one of their own. He parts ways with every single penny he’s ever made, but he’s rewarded with the first permanent roof he’s ever had.

Not that Michael expects the trailer to be a permanent thing. After all, no home has ever been forever. Most haven’t lasted longer than a year or so. Besides his truck, of course. The mere idea that the airstream is mobile proves the impermanence of the situation. He can flit from place to ungodly place without settling down with any actual intent. There’s beauty in the nomadic nature of it all. Mostly, he doesn’t have to worry about being rained on any longer or crashing on Isobel’s sofa or cuddling up with Sanders’ dog. So, he’s happy. Content. Proud, even.

The trailer is cramped. The engine is shit. And the toilet is literally two feet from where he lays his head at night. How he convinces any of his hookups to climb into that tiny bed with him is anyone’s guess. There’s been more than one conquest sent home with multiple bruises. Once he burns a piece of toast so badly that he can’t sleep inside for a week. There’s no storage, the floor is lopsided, and Isobel refuses to step inside for two whole years. But hey, nothing’s perfect.

After a year together, Michael and the airstream find a balance that works for them. He covers the windows with old newspaper, adapts to being very, very tidy, and sleeps outside when the claustrophobia sets in. He even fashions a front patio out of some old oak pallets he finds in the junkyard. In return, the trailer gives him privacy, a sense of autonomy, and a place to bring Alex Manes when he returns from his first tour overseas. And every tour after that.

Not that he was looking to bring Alex back to his place, of course. He hadn’t even known Alex was back. And then suddenly, there he is. Laughing with Arturo in the Crashdown. Michael hardly recognizes him with the regulation haircut and newly lean body. He tells himself to walk away, but the universe has other ideas. Alex spots him and his whole face lights up. No one has ever looked at Michael like that and he’s lost all over again.

Over the next decade, the airstream begins to collect memories. Isobel blowing the door open and taking her first steps inside to shout at him that she’s engaged. Max showing up at 3 am like clockwork every year on Liz Ortecho’s birthday because he’s smashed and doesn’t want to hear Iz’s lectures. The Sheriff’s random visits for one reason or another; he suspects she’s spying on him. The brief time he lets an old, senior dog share his space. There’s still dog hair in the many nooks and crannies.

And then there’s Alex.

He’s everywhere - in every corner, every empty inch of space – filling up the entire trailer. Sprawled naked across the narrow bed, one long, gorgeous leg hanging off the side. Standing over the small stove laughing as Michael teaches him how to make the perfect omelet. Two old Air Force t-shirts stashed deep in his closet that Michael will swear up and down he doesn’t know exist. The silly little cartoon of a cowboy he’s scribbled on every single yellowed newspaper taped to the windows. And the one solitary heart drawn in permanent ink right above Michael’s pillow. He’ll never admit how many times he’s traced that doodle and prayed that Alex’s heart is still beating.

Not every memory is happy, however. He and Alex have always fought as hard as they’ve loved. How many times Alex has stormed out, slamming the door behind him. The sound echoing off the trailer’s tinny walls, door hinges growing whinier as the years go by. Tears shed in anger and in desperate sadness every time the Air Force calls him back to some violent conflict a world away. Damn near feral sex fucked out through those same tears. The sun rising over two beaten, broken hearts the next morning. Another goodbye. Another lonely year stretching out into the desert wasteland. And suddenly the airstream feels suffocating and enduring. Set in stone and unmovable as Alex walks away one more time.

In the in-between times, Michael nurses his bruised heart out on Foster’s Ranch, punishing his body with grueling manual labor. He settles the trailer into an anonymous patch of dust and scrub brush. He begins to collect various trailer accoutrement. First, a rusted, used patio set he grabs off someone’s teetering trash pile. Next, a ‘free parking’ sign he finds abandoned on the side of Route 60. On Alex’s next leave, he’ll mark out the ‘free’ and write ‘no’ in its place. Michael will try hard not to overthink the implication. Isobel says he’s nesting, jokes that he should hang up a cross-stitched ‘Home Sweet Home’. Michael begins to panic.

At the end of ten years, he gives up. The airstream is home. There’s no point in denying the most basic fact of his existence any longer. The impermanent is now permanent. He flicks off the tin bucket and then lovingly wipes away some mud caked on the tire well. Love/hate, defined.

He returns to the trailer after another stint in the drunk tank (a home away from home, if you will) to find a uniformed Alex Manes knocking on his door. He knows he shouldn’t be surprised to find him there – Isobel, after all, had been the one to organize his hero’s parade down Main Street. But it’s been two years with no contact – the longest they’ve ever gone – and so when Alex turns to meet his eyes, the breath is knocked right out of him. So begins another cycle of fight or flight. The airstream will play centerstage. He can almost hear the aging trailer sigh.

But this time the cycle ends differently. Michael moves the airstream into the Wild Pony’s parking lot, shocking everyone. Ostensibly to keep Maria DeLuca safe. But really just to be near her energy, her spirit, her laughter. He hopes to love her. He wants to be good for someone, goddammit. But deep down he’s worried he never will be. That he’s about as solid and steady as his home on wheels. Good enough for a little while, but never long enough to last. Always ready to roll off a cliff with the slightest push.

He hates when he’s right.

Maria breaks up with him in a hospital room. The next night he meticulously searches the airstream for anything she might have left behind. A shoe, a bra, some lipstick. But there’s nothing and he feels like the trailer is out to get him, shoving those two old Air Force t-shirts in his face. The tiny, scribbled cowboys serenading him with derisive laughter. The black heart mocking him. And Michael can’t take it anymore. He slams the airstream’s door shut, nearly knocking it off its stupid creaky hinges and calls Isobel, all but demanding she meet him at the Pony. He needs a drink. Maybe several. And a shoulder to brood on. Perhaps he should call Max instead.

Michael doesn’t expect open mic night. He doesn’t expect Alex Manes and his dumb angel voice. He doesn’t expect to be confronted with the one answer he’s always wanted. But home is a tricky business. Especially for an alien stranded in the foster care system on the wrong planet. As Alex sings his song – asking Michael to come home – everything becomes crystal clear. And Michael tries to telepathically tell the airstream to go fuck itself. He’s pretty sure it doesn’t work.

Because here’s the thing. Home can be a person.

The answer has always been that easy and that impossible. And the airstream has always known. Watching all these years as the two of them danced around each other. The ultimate grift. The longest con job this side of the Milky Way. Michael Guerin has been played, marked, and left wanting. His genius brain duped and cheated. The airstream has never been more than a shit engine and lopsided floors.

After Michael leaves the Pony that night, he moves in with Isobel. And he goes to work. On himself – AA meetings, college classes, mending all his relationships with Max, with Maria. With Alex. And on the airstream – gutting the inside and converting the space into an admittedly revolutionary eco-friendly garden greenhouse.

Once the project is finished, he attaches the toe hitch to his Chevy and heads east until he pulls into the Chavez County Children’s Home. The director meets him outside and shakes his hand with tears in her eyes. Michael walks her and several of the children through the garden, excitedly explaining all the vegetables and flowers he’s planted. Isobel arrives to take pictures for the local paper and secretly shed several of her own tears. She watches Michael happily playing with all the kids and teaching them the wonders of composting. Soon, he gives her a kiss on the cheek and climbs back into his truck. He’s got one final stop to make.

As he drives through the center of Roswell, something swells in Michael’s chest. He knows this place so well – has been arrested on nearly every corner. The Crashdown has always welcomed him with a warm meal and silly antennae. New Roswell High – with all its memories, good and bad. The UFO Emporium – or what was the UFO Emporium – with its fake alien displays and empty corners perfect for kissing sweet emo boys with the biggest of hearts. Of all the places to crash land, Roswell hasn’t turned out so bad. It’s truly a stunning conclusion.

When he arrives at his destination, he pulls into the driveway next to Alex’s green Explorer, grabs his two duffel bags, and heads to the front door. He opens the lock with his key and shouts to Alex that he’s home.

#michael guerin #malex #malex fic #i never thought i'd write something michael centric #not sure it works but i tried #so have 2K words and fuck the 4th

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moneypedia · 3 years

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How to Defend Against False Accusations: A Personal Defense and 5 Guidelines to Protect The Truth

August 5, 2018 By Drew Shepherd

[Note: This post contains details about an undiagnosed case of borderline personality disorder (BPD). These details are included for informational purposes only, not to spread hate towards people with the illness.

If you or a loved one have been diagnosed with BPD, however, you may want to avoid this article.]

Guilty until proven innocent.

That’s the new norm these days.

Our current social climate has made it empowering to be a victim. And any abusers left standing must be exterminated—whether they’re guilty or not.

Please don’t think I’m downplaying the experience of actual victims though.

I know what it’s like to be among the lowest of society, and the struggle of real victims is part of the inspiration behind this site.

But the inconvenient truth is that all these “abusers” aren’t the monsters they’re made out to be.

Why do I say that you ask?

Because I’m one of them.

And this is my story.

The Accusation(s)

During my early twenties, I got involved with a girl who I later realized had borderline personality disorder (BPD).

I’ve already written about the experience and I’ve alluded to it multiple times since. So please read that article before this one if you haven’t already.

BPD is a serious mental illness, but most people have never heard of it, let alone know how to diagnose it.

If you’re not aware of how people with the disorder act, this post will come off as a rant against an innocent girl who liked me—which couldn’t be further from the truth.

But to summarize, the most notable symptom of BPD is the inability to regulate emotions. It’s a symptom so powerful that a sufferer’s feelings can define his or her reality. And this is what leads to many false accusations.

Manipulation, emotional abuse, cheating, promiscuity—she publicly accused me of all them.

It’s part of the process of “painting someone black.” The BPD person goes through cycles of both extreme love and hate for their loved one, but once the relationship ends, the other party is permanently devalued.

Of course this treatment is reserved for those in close relationships with the BPD sufferer. Outsiders will only see a victim pleading her case.

I’ve stayed quiet on these accusations so far since most of them don’t have any substance, but I unfortunately made one mistake that appears to give her claims some validity.

So I’m sure that she already has, or eventually will use this evidence against me. And if her false accusations were to gain traction, they would not only destroy my reputation, but also the legitimacy of the message I present on this site.

The latter is my primary reason for defense.

I’ve always said that the Bible is the basis for my moral judgment, and that couldn’t be more important than in sexual matters.

Now do I always control my lustful impulses and thoughts?

And do I always prevent myself from viewing images I shouldn’t see?

No.

I’m a Christian but I’m still a sinful human being. Controlling lust is part of the lifelong battle against sin in the Christian life.

But when it comes to things like fornication and adultery, I’ve held true to my stance on abstinence.

And as tough as it is to be a twenty-something with this stance in our sex-saturated world, it’s beyond frustrating to be accused of doing the complete opposite.

I’m an ambassador for what I believe. And I can’t allow anything on this site—faith-related or not—to be diminished because of one person’s claims.

So I’ll go into detail here about what really happened, and then I’ll show you how to defend against false accusations once and for all.

Drew “The Player”

I’ll preface my story with a little background information.

I was going into my last semester in college, and it had been about a year since I saw my accuser in person.

Things didn’t end well between me and her the last time we were “together.” But I was admittedly still interested in her—even with all the red flags.

It appeared that both of us were sad with the way the first go ‘round ended. So I foolishly tried to work something out with her before the semester started.

To my surprise, I was ignored and indirectly shot down.

How a normal girl would’ve reacted

It hurt pretty bad after putting myself out there for someone I thought still cared. But rejection is a part of life, so I moved on.

What’s crazy though, is that she changed her mind at some point afterwards. And even though I never got a direct response from her, she apparently assumed we were in a quasi-relationship.

Now fast forward to February.

It was the week of Valentine’s Day. And while I did still think of her, I wasn’t sending a Valentine’s Day anything to a girl who I didn’t trust, who now lived in a different state, and who couldn’t even respond to my direct communication.

The only reason I entertained the thought of us getting back together—if we were ever truly together in the first place—was because she hoovered me back in.

Hoovering is a term that describes actions similar to what its namesake, the Hoover vacuum does.

It’s a tactic people with personality disorders subconsciously use to suck loved ones back in after a failed relationship.

In this case, she used one of the social media apps we both had to convince me that she was open to a renewed relationship, and that she had changed for the better.

But at this point, I was just focused on schoolwork because I had no clue what this girl was thinking.

I had a senior project for an external company that took most of my time that semester.

My project group and I met just about every weekday. And at the time, we were all trying to meet a deadline coming up the next week.

The day after Valentine’s Day, one of my teammates mentioned that we should go play trivia at a local bar. But being the introverted party-pooper I am, I declined.

My schedule involved waking at around 5:30 each day. My teammates were always out too late for my liking, and I knew I’d never make it back in time to get enough sleep if I went.

So I gave the whole, “Thanks, but no thanks” spiel even though I knew they wouldn’t let me off that easy.

Our team was a pretty tight group—especially for four people who were assigned to each other at random.

We had a ton of inside jokes by the end of the semester. And they were the first to tease me at graduation because my honor stole nearly fell as I walked across the stage.

So naturally, they all had a good laugh at me for not wanting to miss my bedtime.

Of course it was all playful fun though. I did get back at them numerous times over the semester, but I’ll admit that I have an off-kilter personality that lends itself to being teased.

So anyway, we went our separate ways and I headed to bed.

The next day, I saw an email from the night before saying that I was invited to a school-specific social app. I didn’t see the email until the early morning though because I went to bed early.

I had never heard of the app before and I was skeptical. So my first thought after waking and reading the email was, “What the heck is (app name here)?”

My second thought was, “Who’s the funny guy who sent this?”

Now I knew it was someone who previously had my email address.

Of course any student could have pulled that info from the school’s directory, but I doubt anyone would have gone through the trouble of searching their class roster, finding me, and then using my email address for the sake of hitting me up on an app.

So it had to be someone with whom I worked with closely or had a personal relationship with.

With these facts in mind, I falsely concluded that it was a prank from my teammate that the rest of the group was in on.

They had just gone out together the night before. And they always found a way to mess with me—even when I wasn’t around.

So just like any other time I felt I was being pranked, manipulated, or taken advantage of, I played along with the hope that the other party wouldn’t realize until it was too late (and this has been my M.O. since I was a kid).

But doing this, in hindsight, was a terrible idea.

Any form of participation on what I later realized was a hookup app would paint me in a bad light. And the consequences of my actions weren’t as clear at 5:30 in the morning.

After I made a quick profile—complete with pictures no man would ever use if he was truly seeking casual sex—I waited about 15 minutes for a response that never came.

Then after realizing how bad my actions could appear without context, I quickly deleted the app and went on with my day.

I’m not sure if I completely wiped the profile I created. But since the app was lesser-known and low key about its hookup aspect—it’s not like I signed on to Tinder—I figured this wouldn’t be a problem.

Outside of my own actions with the invite and the app though, I don’t know anything else. But there’s a chance that a troll profile made 10 minutes after I woke could end up biting me. And that’s why I’ve chosen to address it.

Now, I’m almost certain this invite was from my accuser. And I still kick myself for not recognizing the true source of the bait.

My actions gave her the apparent confirmation that I was “playing the field.” And within the week, she either started, or just made it obvious that she was sleeping with another guy to spite me—a wild and disproportionate response to the thought that your S.O. may be seeing someone else.

So once I confirmed that this actually happened, I ghosted her and all her drama, focused on my schoolwork (which led to my first 4.0), and then went along with my life.

People with BPD are notorious for doing stuff like this. It’s the reason why a popular book covering the illness is called Stop Walking On Eggshells (affiliate link):

They’ll cry about a lack of communication but then ignore you when you reach out to them.

They’ll go on about how lonely they are while sleeping with one of their (or even your) “friends” behind your back.

They’ll say you’re too stupid to complete a task but discredit you when you do it, and then raise the bar higher so you won’t reach the new mark.

After a while you won’t know what to do because she’ll never be satisfied. And everyone else will chalk it up to you not knowing how to treat a woman.

No-win situations and constant testing are common to those in relationships with these people—especially in regards to anything sexual. So I presume the invite was a test to see if I was some dirtbag who would cheat on his partner.

Now I’d hesitate to call it cheating either way since she ignored my attempts to directly communicate, and I had no idea what our relationship status was.

But the other “fact” she gathered was that I was a player who enjoyed casual sex (an assumption that would have driven a younger me mad with laughter).

Look, I understand that I don’t have a squeaky-clean Christian boy appearance—going through trials doesn’t purify the outside after all.

But that doesn’t mean I partake in the same activities those who look like me may be into. And it for sure doesn’t mean that my moral character is anything different than what I present on this site.

Of course it doesn’t help that I’m black either…but I won’t go down that road.

I should also note that I don’t have a personal Facebook or Instagram account. So it’s tough for others to know much about my life unless they read this site or talk to me or my loved ones personally.

This blank space makes me an easy target for accusations since I can be unknowingly attacked through mediums where I can’t defend myself. And there are no videos of me playing with my dog to fill the holes left by my “shady” lifestyle.

Usually this isn’t a problem as most of the people I meet don’t care about my online presence. But of course there’s always one person who assumes the worst case scenario. And it’s sad that in my case, this person was someone I genuinely liked before.

These obsessive behaviors were nothing new though:

This same girl cried sobbed in the middle of one of our classes—when we were both in our twenties mind you—because I didn’t initially return her interest.

She would go from spaced-out to depressed and then stare at me like it was my fault.

She even accused me of cheating after seeing a pic my mom took of me when I was at dinner with my family.

So you can imagine the relief I felt when I closed the door on that for good.

At this point, the only ones who still believe her lies—or to be fair to the illness she has, her reality—are people I’ve never met.

But I’m not even mad anymore. I’m just annoyed that my life is still negatively affected because I fell for the wrong girl.

And that, ladies and gentlemen, is the honest truth.

How to Craft Your Defense

So now that my story’s out of the way, how do you fight your own false accusations?

It’s not too difficult.

Just follow these 5 guidelines to protect yourself in both the present, and the future:

1) Remember the Alibi

As tempting as it is to piece together a story that makes you look like a saint, you have to ensure the truth you present is actually…well, true.

Since I couldn’t remember all this off the top of my head, I dug through my old emails and group conversations to get the timeline right. And I could always use them again if legal action was involved.

It also helps that I have an archive of posts here that clearly present my personality and the mistakes I’ve made.

You can even compare this post to the one I wrote on BPD earlier and you’ll see numerous similarities. If anyone thought I was lying, they could search the other 40+ posts here too to see that the story adds up.

But if you don’t have thousands of words as supporting evidence, just take your time, breathe, and write down what happened as best as you remember.

False accusations can cloud your memory when you first hear them, and your emotions will push for a raw defense. But if you start writing what you remember, you can put that passion to good use now, and update your writing later with more facts.

A story set in writing will be a great resource to have. You don’t want to lean on your memory or your speech when the pressure’s on.

If you write down what happened, you’ll also find other bits of evidence you’ll need to prepare your defense. And if your audience is really concerned with the truth, they’ll take all the info they can get.

2) Compare the Fruit

Perhaps the easiest way to expose the shakiness of false accusations is to note the shakiness of the accuser’s lifestyle.

This is by far my least favorite technique though since it appears to be an attack on character instead of the accusation itself. But understand that those two targets aren’t mutually exclusive.

A person who usually acts one way is almost certain to do it again.

And no, that fact isn’t judgmental. It’s simple probability.

This is going to sound like I’m bragging about my accomplishments and attacking her character, but let’s compare some notable points about my life and my accuser’s:

I improved to at least a 3.5 GPA in my last four college semesters within a STEM major. But I’ll admit my accuser was booksmart, so we’re pretty much even there.

I have never gotten blacked-out drunk (or even consumed alcohol). I have never taken an illegal substance. And I have never lived a promiscuous lifestyle. My accuser has done, and probably still does, all three.

I landed a stable job in my field more than a month before I graduated, and I’m still employed there today. My accuser barely held a job as a bar server about a year after graduating with the same degree.

Again, I don’t like expressing my achievements, and I never want to attack anyone’s character. We all make mistakes, and I made one of the biggest mistakes any student ever will (which she contributed to by the way).

But when someone’s lifestyle displays a clear pattern of incompetence, recklessness, and mental instability, the validity of their claims also takes a hit.

And that’s without mentioning that I’ve written the equivalent of a book here at HFE—a site where I cover my own shortcomings just as much, if not more than my accomplishments—on my own time and dollar because I believe it will help others.

So knowing all this, let me ask you, who do you think is telling the truth?

A tree’s fruit always gives it away.

Know who you are and know who you’re dealing with so any other lies are dismissed as the jokes they are.

3) Change “I” to “We”

The most unfortunate thing about false accusations is that no one’s waiting to hear a verdict.

As soon as those words leave your accuser’s mouth, you will be facing much more than one person.

Friends, family, social circles, even whole communities may turn against you.

And what began as a defense against one liar becomes a battle against an entire army.

So what do you do when this multitude of warriors stands against you?

It’s simple.

You gather the troops.

Find people who can vouch for your story. Get help from friends who aren’t blinded by the lies. Ask people who were neutral bystanders to explain what happened since they’re not biased.

I know I can get anyone from former classmates, friends, and family members to acknowledge the truth of my claims.

And since I know the mental issues my accuser deals with, I can also refer to a psychologist or another mental health resource.

An understanding of my accuser’s mind is one of the best counters to her claims. Yes, she acts in unstable ways, but they’re predictably unstable, and numerous people have experience with the problem I have now.

You shouldn’t be afraid to get professional help either.

Lawyer up if it’s serious enough.

Slander and libel are legit crimes. And if you can prove that your life is heavily impacted, especially financially, you may have a case.

So don’t go at this alone. You can bet your accuser isn’t.

4) Go One and Done

The biggest mistake people make when presenting any argument, defense, or reasoning is that they over-explain themselves.

Sure, you want to be as thorough as possible in your explanation, and you should reference points of that original argument to answer questions. But there’s no need to add to your stance or sate a mind that will never believe you.

If you’ve taken the necessary steps to present and defend the truth, you have to live with the results.

Learn to be comfortable with the fact that everyone won’t like, listen to, or believe you. Because the more you add to your original defense, the weaker it will appear.

You’ll also introduce more room for error. And it would be a shame for a memory lapse to cause an otherwise solid defense to fail.

Remember that it’s only your job to present the truth. Not to make others believe it.

I’m confident that my defense removes any ammo my accuser has left. So now the only claims she can bring against me are accusations of neglect—which don’t matter since I’m not her parent—or causing hurt feelings—which isn’t a crime in America yet.

I presented the truth one time, and now there’s no need to address her claims again.

Every accusation doesn’t deserve a response. So stay true to what really happened, and let people think what they want afterwards.

5) Don’t Even Fake It

These accusations have made me realize the importance of the Bible’s command to, “Abstain from all appearance of evil.” (1 Thessalonians 5:22 KJV)

It’s not enough to just avoid evil acts. You have to avoid situations where you could possibly do them too.

For instance, plenty articles on false accusations describe how to protect yourself against false rape claims. But if someone can accuse you of something like rape without an obvious fabrication, you are in over your head.

You can’t reach the point where a verdict is decided by a “yes” or “no.”

It’s one of the many reasons you shouldn’t sleep around in the first place. You are putting your life in the hands of someone who could easily change their mind in the morning. And you have to stay out of that gray area.

Remember to guard your character at all times. You never know when you’ll need to fall back on your integrity.

For example, I remember one conversation I had with a friend a few years back, and my accuser happened to be in the room.

My friend noticed that I received a few glances of interest from girls. So out of the blue he asked, “Drew, how many girls do you get?”

He chuckled while asking the question, so of course it wasn’t anything serious. He didn’t ask about anything explicitly sexual either.

So being the joker I am, I said something along the lines of, “I don’t know. I lost count.”

Then the both of us laughed it off.

But there’s a chance my accuser heard those words and immediately assumed the worst.

It would have been ridiculous to say something like:

“I’m sorry sir, but I am a Bible-believing man of God who has accepted the challenge to live righteously. How dare you imply that I live such a heinous lifestyle?!”

So I had a quick laugh and moved off the subject.

But even this could have added to her claims. So now I try not to even joke about stuff like that—at least not when I’m around people who barely know me.

You should do the same. But don’t limit your efforts to watching your tongue:

Always dress in a respectable manner.

Avoid the crazy nighttime venues—they’re magnets for people like my accuser.

And please don’t go to a hotel room belonging to a member of the opposite sex.

Presentation always matters.

Avoid the appearance of evil, and it’ll be impossible to even accuse you.

Grant Me That Chance

I’ve had enough headaches from my past relationship, and I’d rather not think about it anymore.

But it was important to defend myself here before any other false info leaked.

I hope none of it came across as too aggressive though. I wrote all of this to clear my name, not to get revenge.

From all I’ve seen, read, and now experienced, real victims don’t go out of their way to destroy their abuser’s life. They just want justice and a chance to finally move on.

So if anything else comes up about this, please remember this point and grant me that chance.

Contrary to what some people think, I don’t hate my accuser, and I hope she’s able to turn her life around.

If there was a normal version of her who didn’t have what she had, I’d love to meet her. But the ship has sailed on anything between me and the real her.

All I want now is peace and the freedom to live a good life. And I’m sure that’s all you want too.

So remember who you are, take a stand for the truth, and then defend it with your life.

And who knows? Someone else may come to your defense if you do.

-Drew

#truth

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razorblade180 · 4 years

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Twin Snowflakes pt19: Skill, Sickness, and Skirts

Four hours into the day and no incident at school. So far so good, Summer thought to herself. It was pretty weird to be at school knowing Nick wasn’t around. The two never really saw much of each other anyways, but it was weird nonetheless. Summer sat quietly in the nurse's office with papers on her lap and a text book in her hand; the typical set up. Classroom temperatures and an abundance of not so nice peers made for a very dreadful school environment most days. It wasn’t all bad. Quiet time for most of the day was nice. Nobody or no one to bug her. Until the door swung open and Veronica disrupted the vibe.

“Yo Princess.” The girl said in a good mood. Veronica actually didn’t sound insufferable right from the jump. That nickname was still annoying though. “Do I have to pay you to use my name regularly?”

“I’ve said it once and I’ll say it again, I don’t care about your money. It will never influence me. Eliza said I might find you in here. I thought she was joking but I should’ve known this is totally a thing you’d do.” Veronica looked around the sterile environment, devoid of anything interesting. “I’m supposed to be nice to you, but it’s shit like this that brings my opinion of you crashing down.”

“Whatever.” Summer groaned, rolling her eyes. “It’s not like it was high to begin with. Why are you even in here?”

Veronica took a seat on the bed next to her. She reached for one of those sticks nurses pressed down on people’s tongue and started scratching her nails along the edges. “For you obviously. I gotta be around a student council member and Eliza is taking a test. PE is your next class isn’t it?” The stick finally snapped from the friction. “Might as well try and be active and see the school. Being in one room all day is boring.”

Summer didn’t like anything she just heard. The worst class with Veronica? Why was life this cruel. She was a good girl, yet a trail came day after day to test her. “Umm you should rethink that. Valerie is in my class.Plus it can get annoyingly loud.” A cheap deterrent but Summer had to try something.

Veronica shrugged. “So? I’ll just stay away from that jock. Also I’m no stranger to crowds and microphones. That’s my life too, remember? I know how to adjust accordingly.

Summer frowned as she gathered her papers. “But-” Veronica put a finger over her lips to silence her. The girl slowly removed said finger and started putting Summer’s stuff away.

“We can make this suck, or we can make it tolerable. Let’s just both try not to step on each other’s toes and get through 90 minutes together, fair?” Veronica put Summer’s thing over the petite girl’s shoulder then got her on her feet. The slightly forceful push out the door made Summer yelp? “Why are we leaving now!?”

“Because I can phase us through the locker room door and get us changed before anybody shows up.”

“W...wait, you care about things like that? But you’re so….” Summer leaned further back to press against Veronica’s boobs. “Filled out.”

Veronica hit the girl on the head. Summer couldn’t help but notice the slight blush that appeared. “Don’t be so dense.” Veronica protested. “Just because I’m hot doesn’t mean I like stripping down to my underwear in front of others. And honestly, what’s with everyone and tits!?” She ranted, clearly passionate about the subject. “Nothing is fun about back pain. I also don’t need a bunch of entitled snobs staring at my ears and tails like I’m an exotic zoo animal. Changing early avoids most of that.”

“You eventually have to change again though.”

“I don’t have any classes so I’m not in a rush. I’ll just wait for everyone to leave or change someplace else.” Veronica looked at Summer annoyed. “Can you start actually walking or am I going to have to keep pushing?” Summer leaned forward and out of the way. She wasn’t expecting Veronica to hate changing almost as much as herself. They really did share a similar annoyance towards school. For different reasons of course. Kids looked at her scars and snickered. If Veronica felt like a zoo animal, then Summer felt like a freak show at a circus. That’s what those stares felt like anyways. Summer took Veronica by the hand and sped up.

Veronica jolted. Being grabbed like that was a pet peeve.“Hey! What’s with the pulling!?” Summer looked back at her and stuck her tongue out. “Don’t be pushy if you can’t take it. We’re gonna take a shortcut. It’s not like you really know where you’re going anyways.” Veronica mumbled under her breath. Admittedly she had this coming. Veronica had no choice but to listen.

xxxx

Back at home, Weiss was having her own set of problems in the form of her overzealous son. She had just walked in on him out of bed and reaching for his sword. Granted, he was looking leagues better than he was this morning, but that’s what medicine does! It didn’t mean he was actually better! Weiss put down the tray holding his lunch and medicine. “Am I going to have to get the black wig?” She crossed her arms and gave him the infamous mom look.

Nick gulped. Bleiss wasn’t a person to bargain with. “Let’s not be hasty hehehe.” His nervous laughter made his voice crack slightly. “I’m feeling so much better and staying in bed all day is boring, so I thought some light training…”

“That’s partly why you’re sick!” His mother exclaimed. “Your body needs proper rest.” Nick pumped his fist in the air and boasts, “My body has rested! I’m an Arc after all.”

Weiss remained unconvinced, giving him a look of judgement. Nick let out a defeated sigh. “Come on mom, I have to do something. I feel like I’m right at the cusp of a breakthrough. King of the Hill is mine this year, I can feel it.” Nick looked at his hands with excitement and frustration. He wiggled each finger before clenching his fist. “I just need to push a little more. Somehow.” He looked at his mother who was still judging him.

Weiss could tell he wasn’t bluffing, and neither was that video from the physical exam. What Nick did was beyond impressive and exceeded what she was doing at his age. It was also rocky as hell. There were multiple areas in his fighting style that needed severe ironing out. “It’s moments like these I think karma is playing with me. Winter had a difficult time reeling me in whenever I wanted to train too.” Weiss laughed a little, remembering those simpler times. They weren’t all fun and games but she cherished them wholeheartedly. “If you’re going to train then I’m going to be overseeing it and you’ll follow my rules.”

Nick’s eyes lit up like fireworks. “Seriously, the two of us!? Aren’t you busy?” Weiss shook her head. “I’m here taking care of you aren’t I? If we’re doing this then you should know swordplay isn’t the focus. You sir need to pay more attention to glyphs.” She pointed at him in shock. “I can’t have a son of mine slack off in a technique that’s built into his very DNA.”

It stung a bit to hear that but that’s because she wasn’t wrong. Nick knew compared to everyone else his glyphs were lackluster, especially to Summer. Her combinations and skill made him think she was constantly going through dust ratios in her head like an encyclopedia. “Well then, that took the wind out of my sails.” He slumped over.

“Practice makes perfect. Meet me in the garden in half an hour. Eat and take your meds before then.Also wear something warm.” Weiss said as she left.

“Yes ma’am.” Nicholas flopped onto his bed. At least it was better than doing nothing at all.

Thirty minutes went by in no time at all. Nicholas approached his mother wearing warmer clothes than his pajamas. He had chosen to wear some sleeping thermals over lounging sweatpants while his upper body was warmed by a thick gray hoodie. Normally the cold wasn’t a problem, but being sick made things a little harsher. The two stood on one of the four walkways that made the giant square garden. In the middle was a decently sized hedge maze that was surrounded by tea tables and various kinds of foliage. Apparently this was his grandmother’s favorite spot. Tea wasn’t her beverage of choice though. If it was then maybe she wouldn’t have drunken herself to an early grave.

Nick shook away the depressing thoughts. Weiss was doing the same by the way she briefly zoned out until Nick moved. He clapped his hands together. “So, what’s on the agenda?”

“Your video tells a lot about you. Constructing swords is a skill you don’t need to work on. It’s clear you got that down.”

Nick smiled proudly. “I didn’t get the nickname Gilgamesh for nothing.”

“That name also tells everyone just how bad you are at long distance and anything that isn’t directly connected to swordplay.” Weiss pointed out.

His smile turned sheepish, the pride snuffed out. “So I’m guessing that’s today’s lesson?”

“You’re half right.” Weiss grabbed his blade, Mort Froide, and placed it in his left hand. She was lucky her son was ambidextrous. His passion for dual wielding was to thank for that. She positioned his left foot forward and his right foot back; adding a slight bend to his left leg. “We’re going to put your body in positions that are normally opposite to what you’re used to. Do you know why?”

“Versatility? That way I can do sword and semblance skills with either hand?”

“Not only that, but to strengthen them and let you feel the difference in performance. Naturally you’re right handed, which means casting glyphs and swordplay is inherently going to be better on that side. Casting glyphs for you usually involves your left. It’s made it well trained, but it also means you’re rarely performing them as strong as you could be. Make a wall with your right and then with your left.”

Nick extended his middle and pointer finger while flicking his wrist up. A generic glyph formed in front of them in a second that was wide enough to cover both of them. He switched to his left to try the same. The delay was about a second longer and half of Weiss’s body was exposed. Not only that, the glyph looked slightly dimmer. He had never noticed the difference.

“Woah….who knew?”

“Your sister.” Weiss jabbed at him. “Not only is the size and speed different, but I guarantee that right handed casting can take and deal more damage. A helpful tip for Valerie. I wouldn’t be surprised if there’s a subconscious amount of effort and aura going more into the left one too, but you’ve done it for so long that I doubt the difference is hindering you. Just something to keep in mind.”

Weiss pulled out Myrtenaster and slipped in lightning dust. “Our swords, like any other weapon, are conduits for our aura. Using our semblance with them is second nature and having both hands to perform glyphs by having them on the sword provides more power behind it. It’s not always viable unfortunately.”

“I know. Making the quantity and quality of swords around me helps when I do the stance you taught me. The one where you kneel and stab into the ground.” He twirled his sword once before taking a knee, piercing the ground as a demonstration. “I have the fundamentals understood. It’s the concentration I’m lacking I guess.”

Weiss agreed. “Believe me, it’s challenging. You can get to the level of focus, but you take too long to reach that point. Which brings us back to our lesson today. She handed him vials of lightning and fire dust. “You’re going to practice a practical technique, and an impractical one. The first one is time dilation.” Weiss could see her son’s face turn to despair, making her laugh. “Haha don’t worry, I’ll help you through it.”

“Mom we’ve been down this road before. It ended with me constantly getting shocked. I didn’t even pull it off.”

Weiss remembered that day. Nick couldn’t touch anything with static cling for hours. “Hey you’re a little older now. Asking that much of you was definitely on me. If you can learn to use it, then your swordplay automatically becomes better. Quick attacks are already your forte. Having this without Summer’s help will elevate you. Especially if you’re dual wielding.”

Nick couldn’t deny any of that. Time dilation was a move that would be perfect. Too bad he sucked! It was one of the few things he had no progress in. It was essentially the beginning of deep diving of advanced glyphs. “What’s the second lesson?”

Weiss pointed to the maze. “The infamous candle test!” She said b like an announcer almost.

It was one rough reveal after another. “No! I’m going to burn everything!” Nick wasn’t being a defeatist, but realistic.

The candle test was the epitome of a fire hazard. It was a difficult way of working on control and concentration to an obsessive degree. The objective was to light the candles set up on the inside of the maze as fast as possible by using their semblance. At novice level, a person goes through the maze lighting them one by one. That way control was the main focus. A step above that is to stand in the center and send tiny embers to each candle. That requires more concentration on directing the fire while controlling the output from the very start. A level beyond that was to do it from the balcony. That way you can see all the candles, but now you have wind to worry about. The flames needed to be strong enough to reach the candle while being perfectly on course so plants burn. Finally, there was lighting all the candles from the ground level from the outside of the maze. Nick could only get through the first two levels. Summer does the fourth option for fun…

“Mom, there’s no way you’re expecting me to do option four well, right?” He cautioned. “You’ll be putting out a lot of fires.”

“That’s fine. That’s what practice is all about. Repetition will make it easier because I’ll keep the candles in the same area I always do. Even if you get marginally better at this, then you’ve progressed more than you will realize.” Weiss rested her hand on Nick's shoulder. It was relieving to know that her child could still act his age. She probably shouldn’t be happy to see him nervous, but she was. “Think of it like this. Let’s say you can get past level three of the candle test in about three minutes. A level of control and concentration that swift will make everything you can already do faster.” Weiss put her sword down and held her hand palm up. A glyph suddenly formed then burst into a flash of light.

Nick closed his eyes briefly. Only to open them again to see a Sphinx the size of himself standing next to his mother.

“It’ll also bring you steps closer to everything you can’t do yet.” Weiss petted her creation. “That thing you did with your gigas is really impressive. It would be a tragedy if you couldn’t pull it off in intense, solo combat.”

Now he was fired up. He still wasn’t entirely sure how he pulled off what he did during the fight with the Paladin, but he did know that it would be a game changer if he could call upon it at will. If he could even be a fourth of what he was that day then he’d have a useful crutch. If getting to that point meant doing what he was bad at, then there was no time for whining. Nick placed a vial of lightning dust into the hilt of Mort Froide. “Let’s get to work then! Valerie won’t know what hit her!”

xxxx

“Why am I so bad at this!” Nicholas shouted off of the balcony. He had been doing the candle test for about two hours now. Time dilation was tricky but the basis of it was something Nick had the hang of, so they switched gears to this. A thing he couldn’t handle even if he had extra arms.

Weiss finished putting out the flames on the slightest burnt maze. At least it was warm enough outside to not need a coat. Both of them had switched to tank tops. “Give it one more good try, then we’ll take another break.” She encouraged enthusiastically. “Don’t worry about speed right now. Focus on concentration and control.”

“Okay…” Nick took a deep breath and got back into position. This time with his sword in his right hand. He raised it to the sky to make a fire glyph then brought it down in front of him.

“Might want to angle it a little higher. Have it arch through the air.” Nick followed hire instructions accordingly. He had twelve candles he needed to light . All in separate spots. The middle of the glowed brighter as a flame ignited. It grew more and more in size before the flame wrapped around itself to make a fireball. Concentration. Nick pulled his sword back and assessed his targets. He split the fireball into twelve smaller ones that went to the edge of the glyph like a clock face. This was control.

Beads of sweat ran down his from the heat and training, that was more rigorous than he thought it would be. “Aim and….” Nick thrusts his blade forward to send them flying. All twelve were on track this time thanks to Weiss’s advice, but only eight of them landed on their targets sadly. The other four fizzled out half way there. The boy groaned, irritated with his progress. Weiss could understand that. Between her family and Jaune, there wasn’t a soul around who didn’t strive for perfection in training.Nick went to raid his sword again but it was quickly pushed down by Weiss’s.

“Uh uh, break time.” She tossed him a towel for him to wipe his face, and screamed if he needed to. She did i that sometimes in moments like these. On the bright side, nothing was on fire that shouldn’t be. “I know this won’t mean much coming from your mom and all, but I think you’re doing pretty well.”

“What are you talking about?” Nick said, wiping his face clean of sweat and ash. “That means a lot. You’re the best at this mom.” He smiled which made Weiss smile. “Maybe I can ask Summer for insight when she gets home.”

“While you’re at it you should probably ask for singing practice with her since she talked you into a duet.”

Nick shuddered at the thought. “Ugh, don’t remind me. I’m not well enough to deal with the critiques of an idol that loves the stage more than breathing.” Summer was a nice girl most of the time. Not to mention reserved, but that changed drastically when it came to singing, Veronica, Shiva, and the heat of battle. Maybe it had something to do with adrenaline? She did enjoy snowboarding after all. “I think I’ll practice singing with you instead. It’ll be less trouble.”

“You’re just afraid of greatness.” Called out at Sumner from behind them. Her folks turned around in shock to see her standing there. “What? Lose track of time? Schools over.” Her attention was brought to her tired twin. Summer did not expect him to be training on a sick day, nor did it make her feel good about how she spent her time. Yet again, Nick was slowly widening the gap between them. This time it was in something she was good at. “How many candles?” She asked, mainly to boost her own ego.

“Eight. Not nearly as good as you.” He said in earnest. “Mind showing me how it’s done?” Weiss handed Summer her sword hilt first.

Great, now she felt a little guilty. Here she was happy to have a leg up on him and he praised her without reason. Summer grabbed her mother’s sword. “No offense Nick, but I can’t put how to do this into words. I just...get it.” She peeked over the edge to see the candles, then stepped back far enough to not see them at all. A fire glyph formed in front of her and with a flick of her wrist, one huge fireball shot up into the sky. It reached over the middle of the maze before bursting into twelve flames that landed right on the candle. Summer gave back her mother’s sword and walked away feeling accomplished. “Just keep at it!” She shouted.

Nick grabbed the tip of his towel and grunted into it. “No effort at all. It’s like she waved it like wand and the rest worked itself out.”

“I hope you know that you don’t have to reach that level of fluidity? Summer has a knack for glyphs the same way you have one for swordplay. Not that either of you are particularly bad at either if I do say so myself.”

“Hard to say that after today.” Nick mumbled, looking at the lit candles. “Hey? If Summer is so good at this then why can’t she summon more than a limb or two?”

“Well to put it simply, summoning requires a lot more than skill. Passion, need, you gotta put your all into it. You’ve done it before. Both of you did at the exam. What were you feeling?”

“Good question.” He sat down and crossed his arms, reflecting on the moment. “Desperate? I stopped thinking about myself and the test for a moment. All I wanted to do was make sure Valerie and Summer were safe, then poof. Next think I know I’m in armor.”

“Anything else?” Weiss was intrigued. She must’ve rewatched the final five minutes of that video at least a dozen times by now.

“Well after they were safe I wanted to end the fight as fast as possible. Huh, I wanted to win no matter what. Then I blacked out.”

Weiss has done that before. She couldn’t count how many times it’s been her vs a grimm that had hurt a teammate and all she wanted to do was strike it down. “I want you to keep that feeling in mind for awhile. Try and understand those emotions so you can use them whenever.”

“I’ll try. Who knows, maybe one day I can win a match against you.”

“Ha! Graduate from an academy first and become a pro first.” Weiss ruffled her child’s wild hair, making him laugh. “Don’t expect me to hold back either. You’re getting everything. From dragons to behemoths!”

The two kept laughing and enjoying their time together that they didn’t even notice Veronica had entered the room. A piece of her didn’t want to interrupt. Not just before seeing Nick laugh was pretty freaking adorable, but because both of them were way more in shape than she realized. Nick was still growing so that made sense, but Weiss!? Veronica wasn’t sure if she paid attention to Weiss’s arms but. They were cut! No wonder her own parents gush over her. It was hard to believe she pushed out twins. Veronica also took note of the lingering embers and fire dust in the air that surrounded the mother and sun. She’ll try to remember it for her fire and ice clothing design. Could be useful.

Veronica finally spoke up. “I take it you’re feeling better?” Her voice finally catches their attention.

Both of them look at her then gasp. Veronica stood before them wearing a white and blue cheerleader outfit. The skirt altered colors while the half shirt was white with blue stitches and Nick’s school name on the chest. The girl swayed side to side with pompoms in her hands. A smug smile spread on her face as her ears and tail bounced to her little dance.

“Sup!” Veronica sang, enjoying the reaction. Weiss and Nick looked at each other, then back at her. “I was gone for a day!” Nick exclaimed. “How did all of this happen?”

Veronica snickered, thinking about gym class. “I’ll tell you about it later.” She spun around for fun.

“Having fun?” Weiss smiled. “I guess today wasn’t like yesterday?”

“Nope!” Veronica cheered. “Are you feeling better? I can tell your breathing is still a little shaky and your heart rate is off.”

Weiss went back into mom mode. “Nick, are you still exhaust- uhh Nick?” The boy didn’t respond. He had spaced out watching Veronica. It took a minute to realize but the moment Veronica noticed that his gaze was on the swaying skirt and torso, her face got a little more smug. Not to mention red. Weiss bopped her son in the head to snap him back to reality. “Whatcha looking at?” She said with a smirk.

Nick’s brain finally started working again and noticed the faces staring at him. He immediately turned red and looked at the ground. “Sorry, I totally didn’t mean to...ya know.” Their laughter only made him redder.

“Well what do you know? The knightly prince is just like any other high school boy. Honestly if it weren’t for Valerie I’d assume you swing the other way sometimes.” Veronica joked, catching Nick off guard.

“Hey! Who would think that?”

Weiss rubbed her chin. “You do complain and avoid so many other girls.”

“Don’t agree with her! You did the same with rich boys!” He countered. Nick then remembered his mother had told him that she’s flirted with her own teammates countless times. “Actually...forget what I just said.”

“Yeah you were about to set yourself up.” If Weiss had her black wig then she wouldn’t think twice of letting certain escapades with Yang and Blake slip. Just for a good laugh. “Seriously, you okay?”

“Totally, can we keep going? I wanna try just a little longer.”

Veronica spoke up again. “Actually I was hoping to steal you away for awhile. I still need actual measurements for your clothes. If that’s not a problem. Summer already did hers.” She added for extra effect.

Weiss thought that was a good day. “I don’t mind cutting the lesson short soon. Give him like another twenty minutes. In the meantime you can unwind for school.” Veronica’s eyes got big. “Okay!” She did a backflip and phased through the floor where she should’ve landed. Suddenly it made sense how she might’ve been put on the team. Harriet lives for flare. A confident gymnast that always lands on her feet and is pretty well known would add to the tournament festivities while potentially beating out the school cheer teams.

“That woman really likes winning.” Nick thought to himself. “Alright, back to the grindstone!” He stood up with renewed vigor. Or whatever you would call a second win whenever you had a cold. He had twenty minutes so he was going to make them count. “That outfit would go to waste if I lose. Can’t have that.” There was something about the way he thought that made Weiss happy. He might be her child, but phrases like that were very Ruby like. He was just so sweet and turning into a fine young man. She couldn’t help but wrap her arms around him and hold him close. “I love you so much.”

Nick’s face was turning red again as he hugged his mother. In truth he could spend the remainder of training time like this in complete satisfaction. “I love you too.”

xxxx

Across the manor, Yang was paying her daughter a visit. Or least she intended to, but somehow she wound up peeking through the crack door of Vee’s room as the girl admires herself in the cheerleader uniform; doing generic poses and the occasional giggle. That came to an end however when Yang was caught in the mirror reflection with a cheeky smile on her face.

“Gah! Ma!!” Veronica said flustered beyond belief. Yang could only let out a hardy laugh as she entered the room. “Sorry not sorry, I couldn’t resist.” She said, hugging her embarrassed daughter. Yang was actually surprised Veronica let her hug her on the first try. Usually Yang’s arms would pass right through her.

“Well well well, somebody is in a good mood, and for obvious reasons.” Yang tugged at the uniform. “And you said nothing good would come out of school.”

Veronica playfully rolled her eyes. “Okay fine, today was pretty alright. Happy now?”

“I’m happy you’re happy.” Yang kissed her cheek and stared into the mirror with her. “We didn’t talk much after you came home yesterday or this morning. Holding up? Careful not to eat too much meat.Not that I mind, but you’ll be upset with yourself if you do.”

“Yeah I know. I’ve been pacing myself today. I’ll probably have a salad or something for dinner. Haven’t figured it out.”

Yang took it upon herself to sit at the edge of Veronica’s bed while her daughter started putting school stuff away. “You know I bet Nick would find it interesting to see the difference between starved and apex.”

The comment made Veronica cringe. She wouldn’t know how to feel if anyone saw her like that again, let alone Nick. “Let’s not test that theory. Acting like that in Atlas of all places wouldn’t do well for human and faunus relations. Speaking of which…” She pulled out her scroll and tossed it to Yang with a tab of herself on it.

Yang read the headline. “Menagerie’s Favorite Daughter Spotted in Atlas.” The picture itself wasn’t recent. It was Veronica on top of a car with a megaphone during one of many protests. Yang liked this picture a lot. Veronica had a fist raised in the air as people chanted with her and waved signs against an intense sunset. She looked powerful. “I guess they know now. Not that they wouldn’t with all the help you’re providing for the twins.”

“That’s true. I just don’t want people hassling me. I’m here to do my own thing, focus on my designs. Spend time with Nick…” she mumbled that last part. Yang heard it anyways. You would think a faunus with amazing hearing would know how to whisper. “How much does Nick know about your situation?” She asked.

“Are you referring to my physical situation, or my social one?” She hated that she had to clarify. Technically Veronica could think of three, but mentioning the third one would be a long conversation she didn’t want to have with anyone. She had it handled anyways. “Socially, I haven’t said anything much. Physically, I clarified things you told him behind my back.”

Yang had managed to forget about the part where she did that. “Oh yeah? I guess that’s a decent amount.”

“Not even going to deny that last part?”

“Nope!” Yang put her hands behind her head and walked around a bit. This always helped her think. “I’m not gonna apologize either for being concerned either. My options were your crush or the girl you’ve argued with since you were four. You don’t confide in me with everything and gods know that I couldn’t ask you to tell someone. You’d throw a fit!”

To say her options were limited was an understatement. Veronica could see that. It still felt invasive.Then again, that’s what parents are. “Point taken, even if I don’t like it.”

“Glad you can see it my way. Letting Summer know would be nice too. Friends knowing your struggles can be therapeutic.”

“We’re not friends.” Veronica aggressively stated, a slight amount of attitude came. “Being friends with a girl like her would only piss me off. I’ll be civil and nothing more!” She scoffed. Yang threw up her arms in jest. “If that’s what you want. I suppose I’ll settle for Nick knowing.” A devious thought came into her mind. “Better hope he doesn’t ask about heat.” Yang wasted no time bolting out of the room as Veronica got a deep blush and started shouting, her mind flustered.

“He doesn’t have to know about that! And you better not bring it up!!” That conversation didn’t have to exist. Those answers will be kept to herself even if it meant gluing her mouth shut. After that remark, Veronica desperately needed to cool off. Time for a shower.

xxxx

Turns out twenty minutes wasn’t that much time for Nick to make any further improvements. Disappointed, he walked down the hallway towards Veronica. He hadn’t been in that room since she showed up. He assumed it had to look like a boutique by now. Nick turned the counter and bumped into his sister unexpectedly on the way there. Summer had ditched the uniform in favor of an oversized ‘Boop!” shirt and sweatpants. Her studio headphones hung around her neck while her hands held two journals and a pencil. Nick knew this attire. Summer was in what he called, ‘Lyrical Mode.’

“Writing a new song?” He tried to peek at the journals but Summer pulled them closer to her chest. “Yes, and so much more.” She stated defensively. “Oscar thought I should try expressing more of my, let’s say inner feelings. I’m not really sure how it will be received though when it’s done. Piecing it together lyrically has been rough.” Summer looked down to read what she had and sighed. “Fortunately this one is more for me. Tournament wise I have a few ideas of previous covers people might like.”

Nick could tell Summer was deep in thought about this. She wouldn’t win awards if her choices in music weren't meticulously planned. “Well if anyone can pull off this halftime show and make it amazing, it’s you. But I hope you remember that we’re still in the tournament; can’t burn before our matches.” He reminded her as he chuckled nervously.

Summer pursed her lips and studied that chuckle. “Don’t worry, I won’t wear you down. Just get healthy and work on relaxing your jaw when you hold a note.” Summer patted his shoulder and went on her way. “Dad and I will be in the music room.”

“Hold on!” Nick shouted. “How did Veronica get a cheerleader uniform?”

Summer laughed. “Haha! I’m sure she’ll want to tell the story.” Now Nick was even more interested and sped off to the room. Summer stopped and turned around. “Wait, Veronica just got out of-” Summer didn’t speak fast enough.

Nick didn’t stop to think about knocking first. He simply walked in on Veronica wearing a shirt, only a shirt. If Nick thought the skirt was distracting then this was a full blown diversion. The purple shirt stopped right around her thighs and showed off her toned legs. Any movement could easily start showing a bit too much. The two teens said nothing; they just stared right at each other in shock. Nick slowly backed away while closing the door, then started walking away.

Summer shook her head at her idiot brother. “I know it’s our house but how’d you forget to knock?” She didn’t get an answer. He waved her off in embarrassment of his foolish screw up.

Veronica came running out of the room, black shorts appropriately around her person. “Wait!” she got down all fours and pounced once across the hallway, diving right through Nick and blocking his path. His blush was as red as her own. “I walk around like that at home, but I’m not home, so… oops.”

Nick couldn’t believe it. Why was she apologizing!? “No no, that uhh, that one’s on me.” He stuttered, rubbing the back of his neck. “Knocking was invented for a reason. Sorry.”

“It’s cool. Well I mean it’s not cool! But you know I uhh...it’s not like I’m…” Veronica had no idea what she was saying. “Mad, I’m not mad” her tail pointed back to her room. “Anyways, ready?”

“Y-Yeah hehe.” Step by step they eventually made their way through the hall again at a good pace. Summer could only write in her other journal, then one made for her feelings.

“Journal entry number 117: Some days it feels like I’m the least awkward person in the room. A very staggering feat to say the least.”

Part 18

#rwby #rwby au #rwby twin snowflakes #weiss schnee #yang xiao long #summer schnee #veronica belladonna #nicholas schnee

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verai-marcel · 4 years

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Midnight Rendezvous (Vampire!Arthur x Fem!Reader, RDR2 Fanfic, 18+, Part 1 of 2)

Summary: It's 1905. Working as a saloon girl in a respectable establishment in a small town west of Tumbleweed, you are intrigued by a man who begins to spend his time sipping whiskey at a corner table and writing in a worn journal. He turns out to be far more than he seems.

Author’s Notes: Finally hopping onto that vampire Arthur bandwagon, because anon requested a fic at the right time.

Tags: vampire Arthur, medium honor Arthur, female reader, sorta virgin reader, biting, blood, gentle sex, rough sex, light angst

AO3 Link is right here!

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Chapter 1 - Meetings

Word count: 1769

“He’s here again.”

You looked over to the corner of the saloon where a man dressed in a worn blue shirt, a burgundy vest, black ranch pants, and black boots sat down at a small table. He had come in almost every night since the beginning of the week, slowly sipping a whiskey and writing in a journal. Watching him with some curiosity, you noted how he took out that journal from his satchel, placed his old stalker hat onto the table, and started writing, occasionally looking around the room, observing his surroundings.

“Get him to buy more than just one drink tonight, would you?” Your boss, the barkeep, gestured towards him. “You’re usually pretty good at that, ain’t ya?”

“Usually,” you mumbled as you straightened your skirts and sashayed your way to the man in the corner.

“Good evening sir,” you said with a simper, pulling up a chair and sitting coquettishly next to him. “May I ask what’re you writing there?”

He chuckled, a self-deprecating tone laced between his mirth. “Just my idiotic thoughts. Nothin’ too grand.”

Your heart warmed a bit at his humble demeanor. “Can I see?”

He shrugged. “I guess.” Handing his latest page over to you, he sat back and sipped his whiskey slowly, watching as you read his flowing script across the paper.

It was wonderful. You sat, enthralled by his every word, until the last sentence ended and you were forced to stop reading.

You secretly loved to read, a hobby that didn’t match your profession. You were supposed to play the floozy, the flirtatious lady who would offer her companionship to the lonely men that came to the saloon for a drink and be doted upon by you and your fellow saloon girls.

Handing the journal back to the man, you had to swallow before you could speak. “It’s… it’s fantastic.”

The man smiled as he looked down and scratched the back of his head. You could see by the way he tried to hide his face that he wasn’t used to such compliments. “None of the other ladies seemed interested in my writin’. They all just wanted me to stop and drink with’em.”

You felt a bit guilty; you were here to do the same thing. But after reading such wonderful prose, you couldn’t help but be honest. “Well, to be fair, they’re just doing their job.”

The man nodded. “Sure. But you actually asked to read my book.”

“So you’re writing a book?”

He shrugged. “Tryin’ to. Thought it might be… interestin’, I guess.”

You nodded enthusiastically. “It definitely is! The way you write is so unique, so authentic, I loved it!”

The man blinked in surprise, clearly taken aback by your zeal. “Well, I… thank you.”

“What’s your name?”

“Arthur.”

“Like the king.”

He chuckled. “I guess so.”

His smile was warm, like a fireplace on a cold winter night, and you suddenly grew much more interested in him.

***

Ever since that night, you had come up to him every time he came in, asking him questions about his book. He was always happy to see you, and would answer you in an earnest tone. He started to ask your opinion, if the latest paragraph he had written felt a certain way, or if his words were too convoluted.

But then one night, when you came to work a little later than usual, you saw another woman at Arthur’s table. She was one of the newer saloon girls, and she was flirting with him, much more than you did. You could clearly see three whiskey glasses at the table, and when she caressed his arm, he didn’t shy away; not only that, his smile grew.

Your heart cracked a little bit, but you took a deep breath. He was just a patron, no one special.

You were just lying to yourself.

Putting away your emotions to sort out later, you continued to work the rest of the night, avoiding the corner of the saloon.

***

Admittedly, you were distracted and unable to convince enough men to buy more drinks like you normally could. A bit sad that your wages would be lower tonight, you left work at midnight, walking through the alleys to get to your little room in the boarding house. You hated walking along the main road, where cars would sometimes come by, stinking of fumes that irritated your nose. It was about a twenty minute walk, but you hurried home at almost a jog, knowing that at this hour, it wasn’t the safest place to be.

A soft feminine moan made you pause. Was someone in danger? You reached under your skirt and pulled your dagger out of its holster wrapped around your thigh. Inching forward quietly, you peeked around the corner of the nearest building to peer down the other alleyway.

Under the light of a streetlamp, you could make out the profile of two forms: a woman, her back against a wall with her arms and legs wrapped around a man, thrusting against her, his clothes still on, his hat familiar to you.

As she moaned louder, you watched as Arthur leaned in and kissed her neck, making her moan turn into a high pitched cry of pleasure. You recognized her as your newer coworker. She seemed to be enjoying herself.

When he pulled away, you saw a glint, a flash of a fang. Blood stained the corner of his lips before his tongue quickly licked it away. His eyes glowed an ominous red, and he grinned like a cat that had eaten the canary.

It clearly was not a kiss. And you knew, clear as day, that Arthur was a vampire.

You stepped away from the building and quickly scurried home, locked the door, put a chair in front of it, and attempted to sleep.

Sleep did not come to you until the sun rose and you felt safe from the night.

***

You were tired and terrified, for when you came to work that evening, Arthur was sitting in the corner of the saloon once more, writing in his journal. The other woman was nowhere in sight. Was she home sick? Or worse, was she dead?

Then he suddenly looked up and met your eyes. Unable to look away, you couldn’t ignore him when he beckoned you over.

"He's askin' for you," your boss groused. "Don't just stand there, go make your wages."

You gulped and slowly walked over to Arthur, warily smiling. He returned your smile with an easy grin and a wave of his hand to the chair next to him. Feeling as if a lion had invited you to sit beside him, you sat down, perching on the edge of your seat, your back stiff as a rod.

"What's the matter, darlin'?" Arthur asked, his brow furrowed with concern.

"N-nothing!" you replied almost too quickly. You quietly took a deep breath. "How's your writing?"

Arthur watched you silently, not answering you for a while, long enough that you squirmed in your seat. You fidgeted with your dress, your hands bunching up the fabric at your thighs. He finally let out a defeated sigh.

“You saw.”

You nodded.

“And yer scared.”

You nodded again.

“Well, don’t be.”

You looked at him, aghast. “How can you tell me that when I saw you suck the blood out of a woman last night?” you whispered frantically. “I don’t even know if she’s alive—”

“Hi there, sugar,” a sweet voice said. You and Arthur both looked up to see the woman from last night, alive and well, with a scarf around her neck.

“Hullo,” Arthur greeted politely. You just nodded, too dumbstruck to speak.

“If you get bored with that one,” she said, nodding her head towards you, “You know where to find me.” Winking at him, she wandered off, her hips swaying a bit too much for your liking.

“See? She’s fine.”

You turned back to Arthur. “So… you don’t kill your victims?”

“They ain’t victims,” he shot back. “They is… donators.”

You raised an eyebrow at him.

He sighed. “What would I do if I killed everyone I drink from? I’d be found out eventually. Then what? I’d have to move on. Best if I keep a low profile and just take only what I need. And I offer my… services, in return.”

“So you need to…” You couldn’t bring yourself to say the exact words. “Need to have relations before you drink?”

“Blood tastes best, right when a lady lets go,” he said, his voice deepening.

Something inside of you shifted, and you suddenly felt incredibly jealous of the other woman. What would it feel like, to have such a dangerous creature taking you, taking your body and your blood?

You felt a hand on yours, and looked up at him. His eyes, a swirl of green grass, blue sky, and the yellow sun, mesmerized you for a few seconds before you shook your head.

“Don’t try any funny stuff.”

Arthur laughed. “I can’t do any mind tricks. Ain’t one of my abilities.”

“So what can you do?” you asked, as curiosity began to outweigh your fear.

“Well, I’m stronger and faster than a regular person, and my eyesight is real good,” he said matter-of-factly. “My teacher said a lot of yer vampire powers are based off what you was good at when you was alive.”

“Oh, so you weren’t a con man,” you said offhand.

“Nope, sure weren’t,” he confirmed, chuckling.

“You had a teacher?”

“Yep. When she changed me, she said she could teach me how to survive for one year, then I’d have to move on, find my own territory, before our instincts took over and she’d try to kill me.”

You soaked in all of this information. You couldn’t believe it, and yet you had seen it. A real live vampire. You wondered vaguely how old he was. How long he may have been around. Were his friends all gone?

What a sad thought.

“So you can’t be with other vampires?” you asked.

He shook his head and sighed. “It’s in our nature to be alone, I guess.”

Your heart broke, hearing his words tinged with melancholy. You put your other hand on top of his, sandwiching his hand between yours. “Arthur…” You didn’t know what else to say.

He gave you a wry smile, but his eyes were still filled with loneliness. “S’okay, sweetheart.” He touched your arm gently, and began to lean closer to you.

You didn’t pull away.

Leaning in closer, he kissed your cheek tenderly. “Thank you,” he murmured. “Fer bein’ understandin’.”

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

Chapter 2

#rdr2 fanfic #arthur x reader #arthur x fem!reader #vampire arthur #rdr2 #arthur morgan #writing #lemon fanfic #nsft #tumblr request

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juchumice · 4 years

Text

Green Notebook

‘HOW THE FREAK DO YOU WRITE ROMANTIC STUFF FREAKING FREAKING FREAK SHOW KICKS A CAN DOWN THE ROAD AND IT SPIRALS A MILLION GAJILLION MILES AWAY ARRRRGH!!!’

Shouta frowned at the chicken scratch on the page.

There was no particular reason Shouta was sitting here with Yamada’s notebook in hand and… ahem, invading privacy. But in his defense, it was a complete accident that he had noticed this little dog-eared green book lying innocently on the floor beneath Yamada’s desk. By now, Shouta should have grown accustomed to knowing what belonged to who, and the lime green of the object that forced Shouta to squint could belong only to one person. So, he was absolutely dumbfounded that he didn’t initially recognize the notebook.

Everything was scratched with a hurried hand, as if the owner had far too many thoughts in his head and had to force it out onto the page before he promptly exploded-- which Shouta couldn’t help but think was very very possible. Each page was messy. Strange, full of convoluted text that dizzied his tired eyes.

On one side there were several notes, completely unrelated to the topic of heroes. Some names sprinkled around, some tips on speaking, and apparently a chalked up script in some way, announcing, ‘PRESENT MIC’S PREMIERE!!!’ in blocky bold letters. Who Present Mic was was completely lost on him.

Then, on the other side, there were several sketches of various designs. Some were long and arching, others were thin and scraggly, but in total they all seemed… very artistically untuned. Yamada must have been bursting with his “DJ energy” (he spoke to Shouta about himself using those exact words-- it was not funny) when he was doing these, and several more pages of more logos of different shapes and sizes revealed exactly how fevered Yamada was. Then, the logos disappeared, replaced by blank paper.

God, even looking at Yamada’s writing was giving Shouta a headache, and it wasn’t nearly as bad as speaking to the DJ himself. Yet, this erratic nature, both sadistic and tender, Yamada had towards his possession fascinated Shouta to no end. Apparently, there were many gentle words scrawled in it: chalked up messages of encouragement to himself, recollections of memories, a love letter that never got finished. All of these should have been lovingly taken care of and tidied neatly… but the actual state of the notebook refused to reflect any of that. Instead, it looked as if it had been dropped in mud puddles, thrown against walls, bitten by dogs, and left to rot in a dark cabinet for at least a week. Several grease stains dotted the pages, leaving Shouta to chalk up a picture of Yamada writing frantically while shoving noodles down his gullet. Disgusting. Too many pages had folded corners, and the marker used to color or highlight was far too garish and heavy that it bled through everywhere else.

If anything, it was just mess, mess, and more mess.

But, Shouta’s own masochist curiosity led him to continue till he was at the apparent page regarding the writing of ‘romance.’ The corner of this particular paper looked to be folded a minimum of six times. As for the contents itself, many words weren’t readable as the chicken scratch just declined to pure obscurity. The red marker that criss crossed like a murder scene across the page wasn’t helping either.

‘I HATE WRITING!! I HATE WRITING!!!!!!!!! UGHHH!’ read Shouta. His brows pinched in, admittedly warranted confusion. Who knew smiling loud Yamada was so negative at times… or he was being far too dramatic as he usually was. Judging from the sheer amount of everything written in capitalization, Yamada was always dramatic in there.

Apart from the loud sentences Yamada had sputtering around, there was an actual semblance of organization for several seconds. Here, the writing appeared neater, less tight, as if he finally gave them the rest to breathe. The words were organized into sweet little paragraphs:

‘I KNOW YOU DON’T KNOW ME WELL, AND I DON’T KNOW YOU WELL, BUT, HEY! THAT’S OKAY, BECAUSE WE STILL HAVE CHANCES TO GET TO KNOW EACH OTHER BETTER!’

Sweet jesus, please stop writing like that.

‘I KNOW THIS SOUNDS REALLY REALLY STUPID, BUT IT’LL BE AWESOME IF WE WERE FRIENDS, YEAH? YOU’RE CHILL AND FUNNY AND…’

Here, it looks like Yamada waited a bit too long. The ink blotted thickly around the ‘D’ of ‘AND’, burning a hole into the page. But, despite the absolute wrecked appearance that this splatter of ink did to the paper, Yamada continued to barrel on. Shouta couldn’t help but be reluctantly concerned for Yamada’s wellbeing at this point. All those chemicals from stained ink couldn’t have done well for his lungs.

‘WE’VE BEEN SITTING NEXT TO EACH OTHER FOR AWHILE, AND I HAVEN’T SAID ONE THING TO YOU!!! YOU KNOW HOW MUCH THAT SUCKS?? I MUST BE THE MEANEST PERSON ON THE PLANET RIGHT NOW, AND YOU LOOK REALLY LONELY NEED A FRIEND INDEPENDENT ALL THE TIME, AND IT WOULDN’T HURT TO GET TO KNOW YOU.’

The page crinkled in Shouta’s hands as he reread that particular paragraph once more. Sitting next… was Yamada talking about him? That made particular sense, considering Yamada’s assumption of the mysterious ‘you’ being ‘lonely’. However, coming on strongly was an understatement for what Yamada was writing. In fact, it was overwhelming as the next paragraph described the many positives that he attributed to Shouta. It was worrisome. Shouta’s face as he surfed the continual contents took on a rather unappealing flush. Flattery was uncommon, and the sudden discomfort he received from this overpool tempted him to close the notebook and just pretend like it never existed. At this rate, Shouta might assume that Yamada was infatuated with him--

‘AND I THINK I LIKE-LIKE YOU.’

Crap.

The flush on his face now resembled a particularly nasty sunburn. Was this supposed to be a confession letter? Was Yamada, a student he barely knew apart from usual interactions, genuinely infatuated with him? Shouta continued reading, just to make sure, but the next paragraph was scribbled out by a wicked black pen. The words that were just barely discernible appeared to just be Yamada attempting to justify this crush on ‘A DUDE I DON’T EVEN KNOW THAT WELL.’ At least Yamada was somewhat self aware.

Shouta attempted to scour the other pages for more, but it was back to silly doodles and miniscule notes that he suddenly didn’t care about anymore. It could be that Yamada wasn’t talking about him... Trying to mollify his growing distress, he flipped back to the page with the confession and double checked if there was anything to even suggest--

Yup. There it was. ‘AIZAWA SHOUTA.’ His name in these bold chicken scratch letters that he was only now getting accustomed to. Points to Yamada for being brave, he supposed… and while Shouta was (Not really? He wasn’t entirely sure himself) incredibly flattered, he just… didn’t know Yamada enough to even contemplate a crush, much less a relationship with the other. Besides, his life was much too unstable at the moment to focus on such things. Then, there was also the fact he wasn’t very interested in it at all.

His hand came to rub at his red face, hoping it’ll die down and cure his racing heart. This was all right. It was uncomfortable, but he had no worries. He could just replace the notebook where it was and act as if the contents were never swallowed by him.

The clock on the wall read 15:50. Had he really been in the classroom for this long? It was stupidly fortunate there was no one around, but at the same time, he was one of the few that would continue sticking to his chair after classes were over. So, it was the opportune moment to just slide the notebook back to the floor. Shouta was just about to shut it when the door slid open.

“GIVE ME A SEC, OBORO! I SWEAR I LEFT IT IN--” Yamada turned to lock eyes with Shouta, who stood there absolutely hating the world. Yamada’s loud voice died on his lips, leaving his usual charismatic self absolutely dumbfounded for something to say. Several emotions were immediately discernible in clear order: Surprise. Neutrality. Suspicion. Hard contemplation. Realization, and finally, it settled on absolutely horrendous and blushing panic.

“I read what you wrote about me,” was the first thing that left Shouta’s stupid mouth.

“Yeah?” Yamada squeaked. The renowned hero student with the matching vigor to the celebrities on television suddenly became this giggly school girl. It was incredibly strange. Discomfort and concern drenched Shouta from head to toe.

“And I don’t feel the same way.” Might as well get it out before they were forced to do anything he didn’t want to do.

It was then the blush that tainted Yamada’s face deepened, and he lowered his gaze to the floor. Fortunately for the both of them, his eyes were covered by those frustrating sunglasses he always wore. When he spoke, it was strained too light, “OH. YEAH, I DIDN’T EXPECT YOU TO, HAHA! THAT’S COMPLETELY ALL RIGHT, YO! SERIOUSLY, I--”

“Stop talking.”

That got Yamada to shut up quick, but his eyebrow did twitch in irritation.

Shouta had to do this… delicately. Delicate wasn’t his style, but he felt bad. Guilt was a heavy thing, and the green notebook in his hands weighed him with the burden of the world. “I didn’t mean to look through your stuff, and you’re… annoying.”

Yamada’s fists tightened.

Okay, not the right words.

“Not annoying, I mean…” Shouta attempted to replace this heaviness in his chest with air. “I don’t know this friend or romance thing and I really shouldn’t have read what you wrote. That wasn’t right… but even though I say some pretty… bad things, what you wrote about me was really nice, and that should mean something. And… I think… you’re pretty cool too… even if the marker you use makes me eyes bleed.” Silence. The quiet he would consider blissful was suddenly grating. “And your designs were nice,” he tacked on lamely.

“Thanks,” Yamada mumbled, uncharacteristically quiet. Shouta couldn’t tell if he was being sarcastic or not.

What was Shouta doing? Grr… He knew he was a terrible kid, but he didn’t know what to say next. Words would be insincere, and all he knew to offer up was a ‘sorry’ on a plate. Action. Action, that was what heroes were for right?

“Just because I don’t know you well or feel the same way, doesn’t mean… uhm… it can’t happen? It’ll be nice if we… can maybe talk more or something?” he said wobbly. He was on a dangerous tightrope. Admittedly, Yamada was annoying sometimes. But, that particular adjective applied to everyone he knew, even friends he had in the past. But, judging from what he had read in the notebook, Shouta now knew Yamada was wickedly creative, hopeful, and always filled to the brim and boiling with energy. Sure, maybe Yamada was distractible, messy, and carefree, but everyone in the world had those ticks to them that kept them ticking. So… that was something.

Apparently, Yamada was less than convinced by those trembled words. Instead, he approached, snatched the notebook from Shouta’s hands, and grated a little, “Yeah, no thanks. Don’t really want to hang out with someone who tells me to shut up.”

Shouta cursed under his breath. “That-- I really didn’t mean that. I’m really really sorry, I’ve never talked to you and no one’s ever confessed to me before so, I really don’t know how to act. But, you… sound cool… I’m sorry.”

It was then that Yamada unleashed a groan, a little harrowed chuckle breaking past his lips. “Man,” he said, “I’m WAY too tired for this kinda stuff.” Tucking the notebook, the whole root of their current interaction, under his arm, he made his way for the door, but before he stepped through the threshold, he gave a half hearted suggestion, “How about lunch tomorrow? If you hate me, then we won’t have to talk ever again and I’ll get over you. But if you don’t, then… I dunno, we’ll see from there, yeah?”

Shouta could only nod hollowly. He considered apologizing once more, but Yamada was gone before the words could bubble in his chest. The door was shut, and far away, he could hear Yamada’s yelled greeting to Shirakumo.

#writing #erasermic #eraserhead #present mic #shouta aizawa #hizashi yamada #SORRY IF THE PACING OR CHARACTERIZATION IS TERRIBLE I DID THIS AS A QUICK LITTLE DRABBLE TO TAKE A BREAK FROM SOMETHING LONGER #I DIDNT PLAN ANYTHING SO IT MAY SUCK!!

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detectivedreameater · 4 years

Text

Shaken|| Anita and Marley

TIMING: Two mornings ago PARTIES: @professoranieves and @detectivedreameater SUMMARY: Just two gal pals getting milkshakes, deviating from routine. Nothing could go wrong with that! CONTENT: Slight NSFW (implied sex, touching, kissing)

Marley had woken up next to Anita and not gotten out of the bed. At first, she figured it would be weird. Like, really weird, but it hadn’t been. Anita was still asleep beside her, and though her body was usually cold, wrapped up in blankets and pressed against her side, sunlight drizzling onto her, she was warm and toasty. Marley didn’t understand why she didn’t feel awkward about it. She’d felt awkward letting Dario sleep on her, and that had been for an actual reason. But here, now, it felt almost...nice. Maybe it was just because of the warmth, of the sun, of the thought of not having any responsibilities for the morning, since she was slotted to work later tonight with Sarge on their special case. Desk duty had some perks. Anita shifted beside her and Marley glanced over, just in time to watch a lock of hair that was reflecting sunlight fall against her face. Maybe she didn’t feel weird because this was...peaceful. And easy. And Anita was like her. These things didn’t have any deeper meaning than the sex. It was just...easy. She closed her eyes again, and let out a long sigh, letting her body-- and mind-- relax. It was always going at a million miles an hour, and being something that didn’t sleep much never really helped. And so, she’d take these quiet moments when she could get them.

When Anita finally stirred beside her, Marley opened her eyes again. The sun was still drifting in through the blinds in a warm haze, and they were still wrapped in blankets and each other and Marley looked over at her. “We should get milkshakes,” was what she said.

Anita slowly opened her eyes, taking a moment to bask in the hot sunshine that was pouring in on her. It felt so wonderful that for a second she didn’t even realize that Marley was still lying next to her in bed. Sure, she had asked her to stay but part of her really didn’t think that she would. Rolling over to face her, Anita grinned. Her expression quickly turned to one of surprise at Marley’s word though. “Milkshakes?” Other than their failed attempt at dinner, the two of them had never gone anywhere together other than each other’s homes. Anita was unsure if her slight discomfort was because Marley had suggested what seemed like a date or if it was because her first instinct reaction was to say yes to it. “You mean like, real ones or the ones Kelis sings about?” She asked teasingly, shimmying her shoulders the best she could while lying on her side. “But, sure. I’d be down for milkshakes.” She almost added ‘with you’ at the end of that sentence, but stopped herself short. That felt like it took things over the line. Though lately that line kept morphing and changing into something she hardly recognized.

“Both?” Marley suggested with a grin, turning onto her side as well to face Anita, opting to not think about how she suddenly missed her warmth pressed next to her. She looked over at Anita, wondering if she’d feel that pull in her chest that told her it was time to go, but it never came. She didn’t even want to leave the bed. It was so warm and soft and comfortable and she wondered why she hadn’t just stayed before. Sleeping in was nice. Not that Marley really cared for it, but that didn’t mean it didn’t feel good sometimes. “Have I ever told you how nice your bed is?” she said, tilting her head a little, moving from having it laid on the pillow to resting in her palm. During the day, her eyes were now a normal brown, no need for glasses, no more strange red glow. During the day, Marley was a passable human. She reached out and traced her fingers along the top of Anita’s arm. “We haven’t even had morning sex and I’m already glad I stayed.”

“Both.” Anita said in agreement even though she usually avoided human food, especially cold human food. Maybe it was because she was just in a good mood, or maybe it was because of who was asking, but she decided to make an exception. “No, I don’t think you have. Probably cause you never stay long enough to appreciate it.” She teased, cause that was what they did, right? Hide what they really wanted to say in a joke. “But thank you. Your bed isn’t awful, but clearly I’m the warm fuzzy one out of the two of us.” Anita looked over and met Marley’s eyes, her face softly scrunched in slight confusion, but then she smiled over at her. Brown eyes, that was new. The next comment surprised her a bit more than finding out Marley’s eyes change colors, but she didn’t let her face show it. It was a pleasant surprise. Anita always presumed the only reason Marley spent time with her was because of the sex, but that comment didn’t fit in with that version of reality she had come to understand. “So morning sex would estatic I bet, huh?” Anita moved herself closer to Marley, planting a soft kiss on her lips before pulling away and just admiring the moment she was in.

“Yeah, well, I don’t sleep much, I don’t need a big, fancy bed like you,” Marley said, as if defending her choice. The reality was that she didn’t do much sleeping in her bed at all, if ever. When she did sleep, it was usually on the couch, out of pure exhaustion after passing out in the middle of something. The bed was used mainly for sex, and then its occupants asked to leave. “Guess I’ll just have to start appreciating it more, then,” she answered, coming back into the moment where it was just them and the sun. Anita’s lips greeted hers and she was soft and warm and Marley let out a long, content sigh when she pulled away. “It sure would,” she said, leaning into kiss her once again, soft and slow, pushing her back down onto the bed. This somehow felt so different from all their nights together, but that’s just the way morning sex was, right? It wasn’t rough and desperate and electric. It was this-- soft and warm and inviting. Almost gentle. Things Marley rarely was. And maybe that was why she never really chose to stay before, but somehow, she had wanted to stay now. She chose to ignore the implications of the thought, however, and pressed on. Morning sex, after all, was just sex in the morning. Nothing special. Nothing different.

“Then I guess I should give a girl what she wants.” Anita grinned, leaning in to kiss Marley again. It was nice having here there in the morning. It was comforting to not wake up alone. Granted, a lot of her one-night stands ended with a woman in her bed, but it didn’t feel the same as waking up next to Marley. So she decided to just let things happen, and just be.

After a round or two, Anita collapsed back down onto the bed, smiling widely, breathing heavily. “See? Wasn’t that worth sticking around for?” There was always such a beautiful warmth that spread over her after having sex. It was often warmer than even laying out in the sun, which was arguably her second favorite pass-time. “So, uh, you still wanna go get a milkshake?”

Marley let out a long breath, splayed on her back, a smile on her face. She turned her head enough to look at Anita, that smirk on her face, both of them panting from the effort. “You know what,” she said, “that was definitely worth staying. This time, you win. You were right.” She had no shame in admitting when she was wrong if the other person was truly right, and this time, Anita had been right. Not that she doubted her. Finally, after a moment, she pushed herself up, stretching. “Oh, definitely. Is there anything better after sex than a nice, cold milkshake?” she asked, teasingly, raising a brow. “Cause I’m pretty sure there’s not.”

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed.. But I’m kind of cold most of the time. So I tend to avoid food with the word cold in front of it.” Anita said, laughing slightly. “But you know what, it’s a pretty warm day… and you definitely got me all hot and bothered. So fuck it, let’s do it.” She climbed out of bed and rifled through her drawers for clean undergarments, then picked out a pair of jeans and t-shirt and pulled the clothes on. It was admittedly a bit strange getting dressed in front of Marley, since they usually did the opposite together. But she tried to just get dressed without letting it be weird. “You got any particular place in mind for this milkshake?”

“I noticed.” Marley stayed sitting for a moment as she watched Anita crawl out of the bed and start getting dressed. “Don’t worry,” she said, a light smile still lazy on her face, “I’ll keep you warm.” She then went about gathering up her own clothes, not sure why she’d opted to say that. Not sure why she said much of the things she did to Anita. It was just part of their game, the teasing. It just felt so natural, there was a sense of ease to it that Marley didn’t often feel. And while she always said cute, flirty things to other people, it felt different with Anita. Almost weightless. Once she, too, was dressed, she came over to Anita, looping a finger through one of her belt loops and pulling her to her for a quick kiss. “Ever been to Al’s? They have the best milkshakes in town. You can trust my taste buds on that one,” she said, pulling away. “And maybe bring a jacket. To help keep you warm.”

Anita smiled at the comment, figuring she was just referring to the warmth of them having sex. What else could she mean after all? “Oh, I know you can keep me warm.” She tried to wink, but her other eye always closed slightly too when she tried to do that, so it wasn’t much of a wink. The sentiment was there. She used to be a bit annoyed that she couldn’t properly wink until she learned that neither could Rihanna, and she still exuded sexiness so winking wasn’t all that important. Kissing Marley was unlike kissing most other people. Maybe it was because they had kissed so often that they knew each other’s lips so well now. Whatever it was, Anita always hated when Marley pulled away, she always wanted more. “Al’s? No, I don’t think I have. Not big on eating out.” She nodded at her jacket comment, and pulled out her favorite leather one from her closet. “You wanna drive or should I?”

Marley grinned, still holding Anita close to her. She almost didn’t want to let her go, even though they’d just spent the morning in bed together. The thought made her loose her grip, stepping away slightly. “I’ll drive,” she said, covering up the strange moment with another grin, taking her hand and pulling her along with her to the car. “You’ll love Al’s, it’s a cute little retro-diner,” she explained, “a lot of the officers stop there in the morning for coffee and pie, so all the waitresses know most of us.” Marley wasn’t one that did that often, but she’d been there enough times to know the wait staff, and the idea of taking Anita there excited her in a way she couldn’t quite explain. “Luckily, it’s close by, too. Then again,” she mused, “everything in this town is close by.” Started up the car and headed towards Al’s, the car ride only a short ten minute trip past downtown and towards the station. Perhaps a bit longer, coming from the lake.

Anita followed Marley out to her car, grinning slightly as they approached it, rather pleased with herself that she had actually convinced Marley to let them have some fun in the backseat. As she sat down in the passenger seat, she turned to look over at Marley, “You ever turn the sirens on to just get out of traffic or is that not allowed?” There was something about getting into the car with her and driving off to some restaurant that felt so … normal. Like they were just two regular people going off to do a very regular activity. But that wasn’t them ,or at least it hadn’t really been up to now. The drive was quiet, but not the awkward quiet that it sometimes was. It was just sort of peaceful. It didn’t take very long for them to arrive at Al’s, as Marley had said - everything in town is close by. “I’ve actually never had a milkshake before,” Anita admitted as they pulled in.

“That’s extremely against the rules,” Marley said as they pulled out, “but yeah, duh, of course I do.” When they pulled in a few minutes later, Marley turned the car off and went to head out but stopped at Anita’s small admission. “Wait, really? So I’m popping your milkshake cherry?” she teased, grinning wildly. She wasn’t sure why the prospect made her so happy, but boy did it. “As far as regular food goes, milkshakes are definitely top notch. I used to sneak out all the time back when I was a teenager to go get them.” The sentence fell from her mouth so easily, she hardly noticed, at first, what she’s said. They’d never shared background details of their life before, not like this. Marley decided to not deal with the fallout of the sentence by exiting the car quickly. “C’mon,” she said, shutting the door and coming around to Anita’s side. “You won’t regret this.”

“Oh my, rule breaker. I might have to report you to your boss.” Anita teased. “Yeah, I guess you could say that. And they say you always remember your first.” Her hand was on the door handle when she heard the next thing that Marley said, and for a moment she wasn’t sure what to say back. She had never really envisioned a teenage Marley before, in fact she had never really thought about Marley in any other context than the one she knew her in. But thankfully before she was supposed to react, Marley exited the car and Anita followed suit. “You know if you keep making promises like that, one day you won’t be able to follow through on it.” It was mostly a joke, but she was also worried about all these challenges and guarantees. They’d eventually get to one that couldn’t be fulfilled. “So what kinda flavor should I get?”

“Well,” Marley shrugged, “you said you’re not really a fan of chocolate, so you can try vanilla or strawberry. I think they do weird mixed flavors, too, but I always stick to strawberry.” She looped their arms together again and walked them up to the front door, opening it for Anita to head in first. The little bells above the door chimed and Marley looked up for a brief moment as they entered, not realizing she’d grabbed a hold of Anita’s hand as they did. The waitress behind the counter greeted them happily, told them to sit wherever and she’d be right over. It wasn’t too busy right now, between the breakfast and lunch crowd, but Marley still tugged Anita over to a booth back in the corner, away from the door. Slid into the booth opposite her and smiled. For now.

Anita smiled softly when Marley remembered she didn’t like chocolate. She rarely was around people who had been around her long enough to remember things that she did or didn’t like. It was oddly nice, so long as it was about her liking chocolate and not anything much more personal. As they entered the restaurant, Anita’s hand fell into Marley’s with a mindless ease. “Strawberry it is then.” Vanilla always seemed to be synonyms with bland, and Anita was anything but. As they sat across from each other in the booth, Anita gently rested her feet against Marley’s. She almost teasingly asked if Marley brought a lot of women here for milkshakes… but she didn’t really want to know the answer, and lately when they talked about sleeping with other people things got weird. “So, how filling are milkshakes? Cause, honestly, I doubt I’ll be able to drink a whole one by myself.”

“Perfect! I knew you’d come around to my way of thinking,” Marley grinned, “vanilla is boring, anyway. And we’re definitely not boring people.” She leaned on the table, letting her legs brush against Anita’s under the table, putting her chin on her knuckles. “They can be pretty filling. I never drink a whole one. I don’t know how people do it. We can just split,” she said dismissively, sitting back as Annie, the older waitress came over to them. “Just the one usual,” she told her, and the older woman smiled. “Strawberry shake, extra strawberry it is,” before grinning at the two of them, as if she wanted to say more, then headed off. Marley turned to Anita again. “So you’ve really never had a milkshake before? What else haven’t you tried? French fries?”

“We definitely are not boring.” Anita agreed, laughing slightly. “Yeah, sure. Splitting one is probably the best call.” The more time they spent together the better Anita got at justifying the things that they did. Neither of them could eat, or drink, or whatever, all of a milkshake. So of course it made sense to share, both financially and to avoid making waste. “Oh my god. You have a usual? Marley, are you an official regular here?” She teased, finding the idea of Marley coming here for strawberry milkshakes enough to have a usual completely adorable. “Why’s that so surprising? I’ve had french fries. You almost can’t get through college without trying them at least once. People claim fried food is the ultimate hangover cure.”

“I told you a bunch of the cops come here all the time, okay?” Marley said, ruffling her nose. “It’s not that weird that I have a usual. Especially when it’s the only thing I ever get.” Cause she didn’t need human food, and neither did Anita, and although neither of them had said it out loud, it seemed like this was now an okay thing to talk about. Which Marley was fine with. It just made things easier, they didn’t have to skirt around those words anymore. “You know, they say that, but they’ve never once helped my hangovers. I usually just pop a bunch of ibuprofen--” have a light fear snack, which she wouldn’t say out loud-- “and carry on with my day. But fries are good sometimes, especially to dip in milkshakes. And you didn’t answer the question.”

“It’s still cute.” Anita retorted before she fully realized what she said. For whatever reason, Marley hated that word. Only when applied to herself though, she had no qualms calling Anita cute. “They never helped with mine either, but people never fail to suggest them. I usually go for a light snack and another shot of tequila. What’s that expression? Hair of the Dog?” The moment she said it she hoped that Marley didn’t think to ask what sort of snack, she really wasn’t ready to talk about her diet. “Well, it’s a hard question to answer. There’s a lot of foods I’ve never tried. As I imagine there are a lot of foods most people haven’t tried. You really want to spend our time listening to me try to name them all?”

Marley frowned slightly, but decided one little word wasn’t going to ruin her morning. She was having a good morning, and she wanted to keep having a good morning. The sex, the conversation, the company, it was all good. Marley didn’t often enjoy engaging people in conversation, unless it was about figuring them out, but this wasn’t like that. This was just nice. “Yeah, never heard that one. But, fine, I take your point,” she said, shifting in her spot to sit up a little move, tilted head resting in her hand. “What should we talk about then? Any ideas? Since you don’t like mine, you get to pick this time.”

When Marley didn’t automatically shoot back with her ‘not cute’ retort that she usually used when Anita called her cute, she smiled. Maybe she was getting more comfortable with her playful compliments. The question caught her off guard, they’d never really been in this situation. They didn’t really do a lot of talking in person. Last time they attempted to get food together they briefly talked about work, but bringing up questions was a scary idea. Anything she asked Marley she knew Marley would ask back. There was so so much she didn’t want to talk about, didn’t want Marley to judge her about. “What’s your favorite insect?” It was the first simple question that popped into her head, and she almost instantly regretted it.

That definitely wasn’t the question Marley expected Anita to ask, but she wasn’t complaining. Anita was an entomology professor, after all. And also a, well-- she’d think about that later. Marley shrugged. “Uhh, do tarantulas count as insects? Or are they strictly arachnids? I never really knew the difference,” she traced a pattern on the table with her finger, “maybe you can teach me sometime. Otherwise, probably the praying mantis. Do I get to know your favorite?” She perked up a little, sliding her hands across the table, letting her finger trace the pattern it had just been following on the table over Anita’s knuckles. “Do you ask all the girls you sleep with about bugs?”

Anita was a bit relieved that Marley decided to go along with her question. If she hadn’t gone along with it she wasn’t totally sure what she’d ask. “No, they don’t count. Insects have three distinct body parts; head, thorax, and wings. Arachnids have two parts, cephalothorax and abdomen. Then there’s also the issue with the number of legs.” Her next answer was very interesting, especially since Anita had a theory about people and their favorite bugs, always very similar to themselves. “Praying Mantis? Love ‘em then kill ‘em. Interesting. Mine is a darkling beetle.” She was enjoying feeling Marley’s hands on top of hers, loving the warmth as always. Then she asked that question, Anita’s face scrunched up a bit on reflex. She thought they had sort of an unspoken agreement to stop talking about other people, but clearly not.

“I, uh, don’t do a ton of talking with other girls. But yeah, makes for easy small talk, especially after they ask about my job.” Was that really what she wanted to know? Maybe Anita should have played it off different. Not wanting things to get too awkward, she flipped her hands over and softly intertwined her fingers with Marley’s.

Oh. Marley had made a small mistake. She watched Anita’s face scrunch up and internally chastised herself for the stupid question. It had just slipped out. It was her stupid, flirty way of talking to people, but Anita wasn’t just people anymore. Well, not in that way, at least. She still remembered her saying she wanted to just be another face in the sea, and Marley was happy to provide that for her if it meant she got to keep seeing her. There wasn’t much else to it, other than the fact that Marley felt electric every time they were together. She watched their hands play together for a moment, before deciding-- she slid from the booth, stood, and made her way over to Anita’s side. “Scoot,” she said, pushing her a little, sitting next to her. “Show me a picture of a darkling beetle. I’ve never seen one before,” she instructed, looking at her with soft, brown eyes. “I wanna see if they look like how I think they do.”

When Anita saw Marley get up from the table, her heart dropped. But she quickly realized she wasn’t getting up to leave but rather to sit closer to her. It shouldn’t’ve bothered her it Marley had wanted to leave, they’d already spent the morning together. And this was just… ? Milkshakes. She shook the feeling from her mind, grinning over at Marley as she slid into the booth beside her. She made some room, but intentionally didn’t move too far so their bodies would be touching while they sat. “Okay!” Whether it was feigned interest or not, Anita liked that Marley wanted to know a bit more about her bugs. She did a quick google search, then pulled up the first image. “So Darkling Beetle is a species of over 15,000 types of beetles that all share common characteristics. I usually just say Darkling Beetle when people ask, because most people have never heard of an Alphitoubius Beetle before.” As she spoke she handed her phone over to Marley so she could look.

“Well, call me most people then, cause I have no idea what you just said,” Marley chuckled, taking the phone to look at the picture she’d pulled up. Marley examined the pictures for a minute before handing the phone back. Marley had a strange relationship with the creepy and weird, considering she gave people nightmares. And a lot of people’s worst fears were swarms of bugs. She never really understood that, though. Bugs didn’t judge you for having red eyes. “Yeah, that’s about what I thought they’d look like.” She leaned one elbow on the table again, knuckles against her cheek so she could look at Anita better, their intertwined fingers playing together. It was only after the waitress came back with their milkshake and set it down did Marley realize something wasn’t quite right here. It was in the way Annie winked at her, and Marley stiffened a little, glancing around, before looking back at Anita, her face slightly flushed. “Well,” she scooted the shake towards Anita, “you get the first sip. Lemme know how it is.” Swallowing, trying to hide the creeping feeling that was clawing its way up her chest.

Anita was no profiling expert like Marley was, but she could tell something was up. Their bodies were touching so she could feel when Marley tensed up beside her, and could see the blush begin to form in her cheeks. Was it something she had done that was making her uncomfortable? Was she talking about bugs too much? But before she could even try to answer those questions, a strawberry milkshake was being moved in front of her. “Alright, here it goes, first sip of milkshake ever.” She was trying to turn the mood back to something light and fun and simple. The glass felt so cold when she wrapped her hand around it to bring it closer to her, and if it was anyone but Marley who had asked her to try a milkshake, she probably would have stopped right at this point. Instead she put her lips to the straw and took a sip. The liquid was thick and fruity and freezing cold, but it wasn’t totally awful. “Alright, that wasn’t as bad as I was worried it was going to be. The cold, not the taste. I figured the taste would be… like strawberries. I have had those before.’’

Marley tried to turn off the weird thoughts and watched Anita eagerly. She shifted a little closer and brought their hands off the table to rest on their legs. Maybe that would make her feel better, not having the gesture so out in the open. Not that it meant anything, they were just very tactile people, and being touched felt nice, even in this way. Marley brightened when she declared it not that awful. “See? I told you you could trust me,” she said, taking the glass from her for a second to take her own sip. She had no way to test her taste buds against Anita’s, or even against a normal person’s, but maybe milkshakes meant something more to her than she was willing to admit. It was a...comfort food, as they called it. She gave a soft, satisfied sigh. “All the better when you get to share it. So...what are some cool bug facts you have for me?”

Trust. Was that really what this was? It was just a milkshake after all. “I shall never challenge your culinary opinions again.” Anita teased as she let Marley lead her hand down underneath the table to their laps. “And here I thought you weren’t big on sharing.” Anita reached over and pulled the cup towards her again, figuring she could likely take another sip or too before the coldness was too much to handle. “I got enough to fill a semester's worth of classes, you wanna narrow it down at all or just want me to spit out a random one?” It was so peaceful sitting there with Marley, for a split second she felt like the world around them wasn’t even spinning. Without thinking, she gently laid her head down on Marley’s shoulder and reached her other hand over to rest gently on top of Marley’s hand she was already holding.

“Good. You should never question my extraordinary culinary opinions,” Marley teased, tracing a drop of water up the cup to the rim, before dipping her finger into the whipped cream and licking it off her finger slowly. “Random one. Surprise me.” Anita’s head came to rest on her shoulder, and she thought very little of it at first. This was nice. Easy. Relaxing, even. Was this what normal people did? Marley was beginning to see why they liked it. Except...she’d never liked things like this before. Or, maybe she had and she’d just...never let herself. She wasn’t supposed to want these things, to want people like this. She was a monster, not-- whatever this was. Annie came back over after a second and put the check on the table, pausing before she left to murmur to Marley, “You two are very cute together,” and that cinched it. The feeling in Marley’s gut exploded and suddenly her own skin felt foreign. Annie walked away and Marley tensed, glancing around. She didn’t mean to, but she shoved against Anita and out of the booth, standing up quickly. “I should-- I need to go.”

“Random one, alright. There’s an insect called Anasa Tristis that only has three legs, therefore technically disproving the claim that all insects have six legs.” Anita felt something in the pit of her stomach pulling at her. A faint memory of Priya that told her not to do this, not to be here with Marley, not to spend time with her that wasn’t just hooking-up. Then she heard it, it was probably meant to be soft enough for Anita not to hear, but damn Lamia hearing often messed things up. Together. Is that what they were? No. No, they couldn’t be. That wasn’t what she wanted. She pulled her head away at about the same time that she felt Marley tense up again. However she didn’t expect what happened next. She felt the push, and then saw Marley getting up to go. Leaving Anita alone at the booth, stuck with the bill and without a ride home.

Two conflicting forces inside of Marley seemed to clash. One told her to run-- this wasn’t who she was, this wasn’t what she did; the other told her to stay-- this felt nice and leaving would make things complicated. And she didn’t want complicated. She wanted easy. She wanted simple. She wanted Anita. Marley turned and ran straight into Annie, who had come back over in concern, wondering if something was wrong. “Put it on my tab,” she told her, unable to look back over at Anita for a moment. But she made the mistake eventually and saw the look on her face and felt her stomach plummet. She couldn’t think of anything to say, so, instead, she bolted.

For a moment Anita sat there totally dumbfounded. Sure, the comment from the waitress was uncomfortable. She had clearly misread the situation, how could she know that they were just getting a post-sex milkshake? There was no need to bolt. Well, no reason she could think of to bolt. Marley had sure found one. She reached into her wallet and threw a five dollar bill down on the table as a tip, then grabbed her stuff and ran out the door towards Marley who was half way to her car already. “What the fuck was that?” She yelled, not really having anything planned to say and just letting the first thoughts she had come flowing out. “You’re the one who asked me to come here. I’m not a fucking milkshake after sex person. You’re the one who wanted to come out here in public and now, what? You can’t ignore a misguided comment by some fucking lady?”

Marley did not want to be followed, but there Anita was, storming out of the restaurant after her. Marley didn’t stop, but she did turn enough to face her so that her shouting wouldn’t be lost to the wind. “Yeah, well, I made a mistake, then,” she snapped back, “first time for everything, right? Isn’t that what you said? That I’d eventually disappoint you?” Threw out her arms, walking backwards now. “Well, huzzah for you-- here it is. I’m a disappointment.” I’m a monster she wanted to yell. And you’re too good for me. Her back hit the car and she turned to unlock it, realizing she was on the wrong side. Grimacing, she was forced to turn back to Anita, who was closer than Marley wanted her to be right now. “Guess you were right about me.”

Anita was mad at herself more than she was mad at Marley, but she refused to let her know that. This was exactly why she didn’t let people get close to her, didn’t let herself get close to people. “Yeah, well maybe you are a disappointment. Maybe we’re all god damn disappointments. I told you - I fucking told you I just wanted this to be casual. I told you I didn’t like to keep going back to one person! And now look where we are, yelling outside of a fucking diner where we just shared a milkshake. You don’t get to keep doing this. You don’t get to pick what parts of me you want and which ones you don’t.” The last sentence slipped out before she could catch it. As soon as she heard her words she felt whatever warmth that had been inside of her turn cold. That was some strange insecurity she hadn’t fully realized she had until that moment. “This is your fault. You should have just left me how I was, alone.”

Something was building inside of Marley and she wasn’t sure what. She stopped halfway around the car and put a hand on the hood. “Right, just one in a sea of faces, I got it,” she said back, still not turning to face her fully yet. Her chest felt like it was on fire and breathing was difficult. Anita’s last sentence hung in the air around her, and before she knew it, she was whipping around. “Well I want all of you! But you don’t want that from me, you don’t even want all of you!” She froze then, staring wide-eyed at Anita, still trying to maintain a straight face, even after what she’d said.

Those words hit Anita like a ton of bricks. No, it actually felt heavier than that. She’d never actually heard someone say that to her before, not and sound like they actually meant it. Like they meant they wanted all of her beyond just the physical. Was that what Marley meant? “I don’t want what from you?” Her tone shifted slightly, from angry to confused with just a drizzle of angry. She was still trying to grapple with the sentence she had said after that. About not wanting all of herself. She was right. Anita absolutely hated that she was right. “I know you think you’re some hot shot profiler, but you don’t know shit about me, okay. So stop projecting onto me. You don’t know what I want! If you were as good at your job as you think you are you’d know how fucking backwards you’ve got it.” Now it was Anita’s turn to storm off, except after a few steps she quickly realized she had no way to get anywhere.

Marley recoiled. Anita was walking away and she should just get in her car and drive off-- but something inside of her wouldn’t just let that happen. She moved away from the car, towards Anita, snagging her wrist. “No, you don’t get to just walk away like that’s it,” she said, realizing the hypocrisy of her words, “not anymore.” For a moment, just a moment, her eyes flashed and she felt that surge that she always did just before glaring down someone’s fear. But she shut her eyes, looked away, let go of Anita’s hand. “I just want to get to know you,” she said, “outside of the bed. But you don’t want that. I don’t have to be a profiler to see that.” She backed away. “Get in the car,” she said, “I’ll drive you home.”

“You don’t though! Say it all you want but you were getting to know me back in there. You’re the one that cut that short. Not me.” Anita felt a surge of emotions, things she had been pushing down for years, for decades. Was she really that good at hiding how she felt, or did Marley just not want to see the truth? Anita played it close to her chest, but this, the time she had spent with Marley, was the longest amount of time she’d ever spent with someone she was sleeping with. She had been pretending for so long that she was emotionless, that she was incapable of making a connection. Now that one was staring her in the face, she had no idea how to embrace it, if that was even what was being offered. “You wanna leave me, then just do it. I’d rather take a cab. ”

“I literally just said get in the fucking car!” Marley groaned, throwing her hands up. “You’re so stubborn and I’d hate it if it wasn’t so goddamn endearing.” She reached for Anita again when she thought she might storm off again. “That wasn’t because of-- I didn’t leave because of you. I-- it’s complicated, okay? Everything is just complicated. And I want it to be easy-- being with you is supposed to just be easy. Like last night and this morning and, fuck, twenty fucking minutes ago! But I don’t do-- we don’t do that. Right?” She shook her head. “We don’t do that. That’s not the people we are. Isn’t that what you said?”

Anita felt a slow surge of tears start to swell up in her eyes. None of this made sense. Marley had never said these things before, how the hell was she supposed to know? But it was everything she had been feeling, even if she refused to put words to it. Maybe she’d done her time, mourned what she’d lost in the past. “Yeah, well just because we don’t do it doesn’t mean we can’t.” That’s what she wanted to believe, that she was capable of this. That she could let herself feel again. “Haven’t you figured out that all that shit I say is just talk? Just a defense mechanism? You really think I just keep coming back to you because of sex? I can get that anywhere. You’re” she paused slightly, angry at the small tear that had managed to escape and fall down her cheek, “you’re the only one who’s ever seen me.”

The world seemed to slow to a stop as Marley watched Anita’s face, trying to figure out what was going through her head. It didn’t make sense. She’d been lying? But...Marley had known that, deep down, hadn’t she? Of course she had, she was a profiler. But the implications of what it meant, that didn’t line up. Marley wasn’t a person who did that. She couldn’t. After all, who could love a monster? But Anita didn’t know that about her, did she? She only saw this part of her. Marley stayed silent as she reached up and wiped the single tear from Anita’s face. “Get in the car,” was all she said, but softer this time, “I’ll drive you home.”

The silence after Anita’s confession was almost too much for her to bear. Part of her wished she could take those words back, take this whole conversation back, but the rest of her was relieved that it was finally all out there. She didn’t know what that meant yet, but it was out there. Marley didn’t react to it, she didn’t say anything. But she did wipe away that pesky tear, and in a way that said more than words might have. Especially given their track record. “Fine.” She said softly, then turned and walked towards Marley’s cruiser. She was too exhausted to fight anymore.

#chatzy #wickedswriting #chatzy: anita #anita #shaken

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