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maximoff-forevermore · 5 months

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Memories

Summary: You and your fiancé, Frankie "Catfish" Morales, get into a car accident.

Warnings: No use of Y/N, mentions of SA, child abuse, child SA, mentions of abusive relationship (not between Frankie and reader), mentions of drug use, allusions to murder (self-defence), mentions of military, mentions of divorce, mentions of depression, mentions of suicide, mentions of anxiety, drugs, no happy ending, barely edited, I think that's all? If I've missed something, let me know

A/N: I kind of stole this idea from a friend of mine, @/ramblers-let's-get-ramblin. She said she sort of dumped all of her trauma into a google doc and made it a fic, and I did the same thing. This is kind of a mopefest, and I've never written anything and posted it before, so I hope you enjoy, as much as you can, anyway.

Word Count: 2.5k

Pairing: Frankie “Catfish” Morales x F!Reader

You remember sitting in front of a fireplace.

Winter had come in the lashing of wind on the windows, glass shaking and a roof made of heartbreak and filth barely withstanding the cold it had withstood many times before.

You had held your sister close, your blood, your only love, to your chest, whispering in her ear as she cried over her first breakup.

When her sobs had eased, and the spot of your skin her shoulder dug into had grown numb, you whispered, “You will find the right one.”

You whispered those words a lot.

Whispered them into your pillow, into the mirror, into your own hand to muffle your cries as the second, then third and fourth stepfather took what he wanted from you.

You needed to remember those words.

If you were being completely honest, the first time you let a man put a ring on your finger, you knew he had not been the right one.

You knew because you did not know him.

All you knew was that he had a house without the echo of your mother’s vicious screams and a bed for you to sleep in that would not be tainted with the hands of men who never asked.

At least marrying him was something akin to permission.

At least a wedding ring would stave anyone else off.

And so, you married him.

The man you did not know, the man who believed to love you but truly wanted to possess you, you married him.

With time, you came to love him.

Professionals would have called it something like Stockholm Syndrome, but for you, then, it had been love.

You never left the house—simply were not allowed to.

You studied online, but only in the dark, hiding your laptop screen from the man you loved.

You justified it, merely saying he would support you when the time came.

He worked, he slept, he ate, he fucked, though not always you, and it hurt when it wasn’t you, but in the darker part of your mind, you knew it was best.

You forgot what it was like to leave the house, to live under a sun and to live with love and laughter and friends.

Your sister stayed in touch, but she was the only one.

Eventually, through a sequence of unspeakable events, of bruises all over your body and blood on a nightgown that barely fit, you would sit in a courtroom for months, and, finally, listen to the judge call it “self-defence”.

The judge said a lot of things, as did the lawyers.

You didn’t listen to any of them.

There was this harrowing silence within you, it drew in the things of everyone around you, melting them, turning them into puddles of distance, where their faces blurred and their words, sometimes accusations and sometimes comforts, fell on ears that weren’t yours because surely if they were yours you would be able to use them?

You had thought, during those months, that perhaps no pain or silence would ever live up to that.

You had been wrong.

Now, you lie in a hospital bed, a few years later.

Years spent healing, loving, learning, studying, and now, finally, dying.

Your sister had said it with such relief.

“You won’t die. You’re going to be fine.”

No. Lie.

You were dying. That’s what this feeling was.

It had to be death.

You had not answered, staring ahead, waiting for one person to step into your line of vision.

Frankie. Your Frankie.

It was a coma.

Your Frankie locked in a coma.

How he would hate to ever be such a thing.

You knew it, because you knew him.

Loved him, as he knew and loved you.

You had healed together, learned together, loved together, grown together.

You had met when he and a horrid, filthy drug pierced his system, and he needed it to.

You had “cut right through his bullshit”, as he always said when he told the story, refusing to go out with him.

He always said he changed because you didn’t ask him to.

You had not given him conditions, you had not asked him to grow or be someone new, you had looked at him, seen him for what he was, and denied him.

You had needed him to be someone he wasn’t, so you had said no, instead of asking him to be different.

And thus, he had changed.

Changed because he had needed you, exactly as you were, and would not stop until you could be his as much as he was already yours.

He joked in the years after the first kiss, joked that his heart had buried itself behind your ear the first time his fingers had brushed yours as he handed you a drink.

For Halloween, you had asked to go as Morticia and Gomez Addams.

“It fits us,” you said, grinning broadly, wooden spoon in your hand as you stirred his favourite.

You always made his favourite, he always whispered that anything you made was his favourite, so maybe you were cheating.

But still, it was his favourite.

That was all that mattered.

Frankie shook his head. “No.”

You were dumbfounded. He never said no to you.

The first few months you’d scolded him for it, telling him he needed to tell you when he wasn’t okay, when he needed to say no.

He promised he would, but he never said no.

This might have been the first time, so you nodded. “Okay. Sure.”

He shrugged, moving around the kitchen island, coming up behind you, his arms like puzzle pieces fitting around your waist.

Perfect.

The two of you were perfect together.

He pressed a kiss to the back of your head. “I just think we should save Morticia and Gomez for when we get married.”

You leaned back into his words, smiling a smile you thought your lips would never be capable of. “When we get married?”

“When,” he promised into your scalp, smile matching yours.

The ring wasn’t on your finger now.

Someone else was keeping it, you weren’t sure who, but it wouldn’t fit on your left hand, aching and swollen and bandaged.

The doctors would not say anything to you at first, then they said he was in a coma.

When they finally told you his condition, you had screamed.

Screamed so loud you knew the sleep of some of the other patients had been disturbed.

You had sobbed and wailed and one of the nurses had tried to calm you, explaining that the vicious pain all throughout your torso was from your injuries, but you deserved it.

Deserved the cuts and scrapes and stabs and stitches because you were here and he was not and there was nothing that could right that wrong but the pain of your body was a step.

Eventually, they called your sister, and your other sister who was not yours by blood but yours all the same and they had held you.

Flowers sat at your bedside table, flowers for the wounds, oh, but the wounds meant nothing.

Nothing next to the pain inside.

The injuries, you supposed, were a happy coincidence.

Because they kept you bedridden, and the only thing that had kept you from suicide was the fact that you simply had not the muscles nor movement to do so.

The nurse had come in later, when the tears had stopped but not dried, when the screaming had stopped coming from your mouth but still echoed in your mind, and told you to sleep.

You didn’t.

Your eyelids were so heavy, your body so stiff, your head aching.

You didn’t close your eyes, lest you miss it.

People talked about hallucinations, about losing a loved one and seeing them afterwards.

So you kept your eyes open.

Waiting. Looking. Watching.

You needed to see him.

You needed it.

Craved it.

But he wasn’t there.

And that wasn’t fair.

You had been through so much, so many hands, so many locked doors, so many tears, surely you were insane?

Surely you saw things that weren’t there?

He wasn’t here.

So you had to see him.

You didn’t, though.

You didn’t see anyone.

Your sisters came again the following morning, with soft smiles and softer words and the softest hands.

They said your mother wanted to visit.

Your chest was too tight to say anything, but your sister who shared your soul and not your blood touched your hand—not gripped it, for fear of broken bones and split skin—and promised she would never let that happen.

Frankie’s brothers, his military brothers, came to visit you, too.

You cried when you saw them, they cried with you.

Santiago had sat next to you as everyone else began to filter out.

He’d opened his mouth, and you knew what he’d been about to say.

“Don’t,” you whispered, tears burning their way up your throat. “I don’t care. I just—I can’t, please. Not—not right now.”

He had nodded, tears in his own eyes, holding you to his shoulder carefully as sobs so violent they ripped stitches wracked your broken body.

Santiago had gone with Frankie that day, many days ago, now, to change his will and leave everything to you.

Frankie and Santiago had both thought it a secret, but Frankie’s beautiful, little girl had come running to you, and you had known for months.

You didn’t want to hear about the will. Not now.

Not ever.

You talked about it often, the money Frankie had come into when his absent, Scrooge McDuck–type of father had died, and, for some unknown reason, left it all to Frankie.

It was a running joke; the rich, older man you’d swindled, the money you’d ultimately have because of the ring he was always planning to put on your finger.

Truthfully, the money had always meant shit to you.

Growing up poor as dirt, money had been a luxury, and you would never take it for granted.

But around Frankie?

Money meant nothing.

There was no richness to compare to the richness of the laughter he gave you when you cracked a foul joke, no amount of swimming in pools of gold to compare to swimming in pools of water with his arms around you and your legs around him.

Money was four letters short of happiness, because you needed nine letters to spell Francisco.

When Santiago left, Frankie’s ex trundled in, having stayed good friends with Frankie after the divorce and hitting it off with you.

There had been something special about it, exchanging stories and tears and memories with her, while Frankie’s daughter napped with her head painfully digging into the ruin the car had left of your thigh.

Then the nurse had ushered them out, and you’d asked if your sister could come back.

The nurse couldn’t say no, not to you, not with a ruined body and a worse heart, so your sister had come back briefly.

You had asked her to bring your laptop.

“You can barely type,” she had said.

You shook your head. “I need to. Please. Please let me put this somewhere.”

Your words slurred, either from the drugs coming through the IV in your hand or the cuts on your face.

Your sister had nodded, kissing your forehead, avoiding your damage, and the nurse handed you the laptop about an hour later.

She was right.

You could barely type.

Still, you had to write something.

Something broken. Something unfinished. Something sad. Something lonely.

Something like you.

Writing was never your thing, it was just something you did.

In your room, in between school and homework and nights you didn’t speak of, you wrote.

You wrote a lot in the time you spent locked in a house with a ring on your finger and not a soul who knew you but a sister you couldn’t see.

You’d lost it, getting out, turning to studies that consumed your time, turning to Frankie.

You found it again now, with hands that can barely type, a body in pain but barely noticeable.

You know you don’t really feel it.

Not yet.

The realising will come later.

You doubt you’ll survive.

You won’t have to leave the hospital, not for a good long while, and that’s the biggest relief you could possibly get.

You don’t have to eat. You don’t have to think.

You can just lie here, pain eating away at every muscle you own, half-curled into yourself as your tears refuse to let your pillow dry, thinking about Frankie.

Every memory you have, every smile he gave you, every moment, you lie there and stare at nothing while you think about him.

You may never think about anything else ever again.

You don’t know if you have the strength.

Everyone around you is waiting for you to snap. For the ball to drop and for you to start screaming and throwing blame.

You can’t.

Anger takes energy, anger requires for there to be something within you.

There’s nothing left.

You’re a hollow shell of a creature, the only thing you’re capable of doing is remembering.

You messaged a few friends online. You’re grateful for all of them. There’s this understanding between you, that you’re going to act like a normal person with a normal life, and they’re going to let you. They don’t avoid it, but they don’t mention it, not unless you do.

That means more than they think. For them to let you pretend, for them to pretend with you.

Sometimes they help bring you back to reality, telling you it’s going to suck and nothing will feel right.

That helps.

You don’t know what else could possibly help you, but you think you might have a suspicion.

So you get someone to bring you a pillow, put it on your lap and place your laptop on top, like a makeshift desk.

You start typing.

Stories, memories, Frankie.

You’ve heard of people who avoid the names of their spouses but you can’t. Won’t.

You can’t stop saying it, writing it.

He needs to be alive, he has to be, or else whatever remains of you will fade into nothing.

He has to be alive somewhere.

So you write.

Tomorrow, you don’t think you’ll have the energy to do such a thing.

You find you don’t have much energy, not anymore.

For now, you write.

It’s all you can do.

Someday, what’s left of your resolve will drip away into the hollowness of where Frankie should be.

Then you’ll wither away into a shadow, into a broken doll forgotten under the bed.

Either that shadow will regrow into a person, or it won’t.

You have no idea which it might be, and you’re scared.

You wrap yourself in memories and tears so you might continue to feel, but wrapping yourself is so tiring.

You’re so tired.

You’ve been hospitalised for four days, awake for two, maybe three.

You have no idea how you’re supposed to live past midnight tonight.

Maybe you won’t.

Maybe your injuries and your hurt and your hollowness will carry you away in the night, never to be seen again.

Maybe all that’s left of you will be the words on paper that you give to Frankie.

Maybe that’s all you want.

To be with Frankie.

Whether in his arms, or two words on a page, or in the ground, you just want to be with him.

Maybe you’ll live.

Maybe you won’t.

The doctors had come into your room three times.

The first, they refused to tell you anything.

The second, they said he was in a coma.

The third time—

True happiness was nine letters long, while death only four.

But four had been enough.

Tags: @planet-marz1 @catchallfangirl @pamasaur @janaispunk

#frankie ‘catfish’ morales #frankie morales #francisco morales #frankie ‘catfish’ morales x f!reader #frankie morales x f!reader #frankie morales fanfiction #angst #very angsty pookie #my writing

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stayandot8 · 11 months

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Chapter Two: So Only Say My Name

series summary: this one is a little different than anything else I've written. An AU where the members work in a bar with my MC, no idols among them. It's also going to be on the longer side. The fluffy Chris we know and love is nowhere to be found. He's broodier, moodier, and has jokes up the wazoo. So buckle up, kitties. This one's gonna be good 😏.

inspo: the song by Fall Out Boy.

Genre: i'm not really sure tbh

Relationship type: co-workers...

Important Contents: bar setting, so mentions of alcohol, chris is a lowkey-highkey dick, swearing as usual

a/n: Part 2 of Just One yesterday. Sorry it took so long, life has been busy. But she's back! And I hope you enjoy part 2! When you see the word count, you'll see why this took so long. okayloveyoubyeeee

WC: 12.2k

Last part l Next part I masterlist

“Chris that’s not-” The sound of shattering glass echoed against the walls of the restaurant. I shut my eyes so as to not make my eye roll so evident. This was the third time he had tried this trick, Han waiting in the corner to see if it would work. Han was mainly here for moral support when he wasn’t being my example of what to do. Moral support for me or for Chris, I wasn’t sure. The two had gotten close over the past two weeks and annoyingly so. Changbin as well. They already had inside jokes, sometimes at my expense. Han was the only one who apologized for the both of them during these private moments, leaving Chris and his shit-eating grin for me to peer at over his shoulder. When Changbin would dain to appear to observe, he would mostly laugh, which prompted my response ‘Don’t you have a front door to attend to?’

This was how it would go every time without fail. Chris would come in for his shift an hour early and head straight for me behind the bar for another lesson. Han would waltz in a few minutes later to join us, not because he was required to but because he wanted to watch my latest attempt not to kill Chris. They were the ultimate test of my patience and restraint. And as much as he tried me, I hated to admit that he had talent. As long as he wasn’t talking to me, he was warm and bright to anyone he spoke with. He asked questions and engaged them in conversation in ways I couldn’t just teach, they had to be lived through. The ease of his flow was melodic. A sense of comfort he exuded was special to him, I had to give him that. Each time he would turn away from them, he would shoot me a look saying ‘see? I was listening to you’. He knew how to irk me while also paying me the smallest of compliments. This game of give and take was what kept me from losing it. He had this eerie way of making me hang on his every word, searching for the compliment that would eventually come to the surface. Sometimes it was a small nod of approval. Others it was simply the silence that he held on to, unwilling to give me my credit with his words.

But when he had something he wanted to try, he was insistent. He wouldn’t shut up about it until he did it. He never really asked permission, more so told me when he was doing it. My resistance to the word ‘no’ was more so to pick my battles with him rather than actually wanting to see Chris enjoy himself. But Han’s joy was something I didn’t mind as much.

“Chris! Dude!” Han was trying his best to control his laughter. Chris was smiling, eyeing the mess and attempting to do the same but his shoulders gave him away.

“Go get the mop and the broom.” I said, leaning on the bar and crossing my arms. He started the familiar path to the supply closet across the dining room, his laughter echoing off the walls the further he got.

“Han, it’s not funny! He’s going to break so many bottles, Minho’s going to find out and take it out of his paycheck. Not to mention there won’t be any bottles left for me to do anything tonight.”

“Oh relax. We’ve got plenty back there. Minho won’t notice.” I rolled my eyes at his nonchalant tone and picked up the bigger pieces of glass to throw away, determined not to give Chris the satisfaction of seeing my reluctant smile forming.

I couldn’t help it, their antics were funny! And the combination of both of their laughs were electric, contagious. Chris’s giggles were like songs that would flit in the air around him and then sprinkle over you like pieces of clouds. The feeling was soul-crushing, especially when those giggles were never directed at me. It made my inner turmoil all the more dizzying.

A splash of water distracted me from my task of washing our tools. I spun quickly, wiping it off of my neck and looking for the culprit. It wasn’t hard, as he was staring at me and had a shocked expression. Chris started towards me, hands up in surrender as he reached for a towel beside him. What he didn’t know was that I had a wet shaker in my hand, still with dish water in it. I started nodding, brushing off the beginnings of what I assumed to be apologies and launched water straight into his chest. I broke into a fit of giggles and he wiped the residue from his eyes and fought his growing smile again.

“Okay, Sparkles. You’re in for it now.” He grabbed an empty glass from the shelf and dipped it in the still water of the sink, filling up the glass. My arms sprung out at his advances, trying to stop him, just enough to watch as he bumped into me and spilled the too-full glass all over the front of his shirt. My hands covered my mouth. We froze. His brows shot up in surprise, black shirt now soaked through down the front. It was straight out of a TV show. Of course this would happen to me. Of course it would be him. Fucking hell.

“I have a spare shirt that I bought one day that was too big for me, let me grab it.” I rushed away before he could protest, my legs heavy as they carried me to the back office toward the one thing that might save me. Hyunjin was there, taking inventory of our current bottles we kept back there for me. His short ponytail was all that I saw. He saw everything though as he glanced up from his clipboard to see me rush to pull out the extra black shirt.

“Uh oh, what happened?” He watched me spin on my heel and rush back out without answering him.

“Here, try this one.” His expression was vacant as he stopped trying to wring out his shirt to tentatively reach for the one I was handing him. He took it from me slowly and brought the bottom of his wet shirt above his head in front of everyone, revealing what I was sure not to forget any time soon.

It was like slow motion. His deep V-line came first, a slight tan coming in from the warming weather outside and onto his hip bones. Next came the most defined abs I had ever seen, the kind that was earned from years of hard and consistent labor. I found my mind wondering what he had done to earn his physical evidence of such work. It didn’t wander for long though as a sharp and deliberate cough fractured my concentration. My head snapped to Hyunjin, who had appeared out of nowhere and was looking sharply at me, concern creasing his face. I shook my head and turned back to the mess on the tiled floor and did everything I could to not think of how deep of a hole I could bury myself into if I allowed it. It didn’t help when Chris muttered two words I didn’t think him capable of saying to me.

“Thank you.”

I nodded, the embarrassment still hot on my cheeks.

The night breeze was gentle as I closed the doors and pulled out my set of keys. The faint smell of rain drying on the pavement had a way of reminding me of home. Of playing outside until my mother would yell for me down the street, running and waiting for cars to pass by, even the sound of voices followed me as I walked to my car to drive home. Oh wait.

Those voices were actually here, not in my head. I spun and followed my feet until I found the source. It was Chris, his back turned to me. He was talking to some bigger, buffer guys in hushed whispers. One bald man, his muscles carved out in his tight white tee. The other was a shorter man with longer, mousier hair. The second was tucking whatever he had just grabbed from Chris into his pocket. Neither looked very happy to be here. I crouched behind the stone wall, peering past the corner as much as possible without letting them see me. The pounding of my heart was loud in my ears.

“Don’t keep us waiting next time. It’s already been too long, he wants to see you.” The voice fit his build, deeper for the burly man he was.

“I know. I’ll handle him when the time comes.” Chris’s voice was different than I had heard it before. No, this had to be someone else entirely, some personality he kept buried deep within and only let out when he needed it.

“He doesn’t like to be handled, you know that.”

“Look, you got what you came for. He’ll miss you if you’re gone for too long.” Chris’s tone was short, clipped. Trying to get them to leave was my only guess for his motive. I heard shuffling going the other way as I listened closer, waiting to hear if anyone was coming my way. I only heard one set and I stood, frozen in place as Chris walked right past me. I went back and forth on whether I wanted to make myself known and leave it to my curiosity to make that decision for me.

“What the fuck was that?” I half-shouted as he kept walking. He stopped and turned slowly, looking like a mix of mad he was caught and ashamed of… something. He kept walking.

“It was none of your business, that’s what it was.”

“Who were those guys?” He stopped and turned to me again.

“What did I just say?” He was still, his hat casting a shadow over his face making him look even more menacing.

“If that’s what I think it was, you are putting everyone here in jeopardy if you get caught. We would all be investigated, the whole place could be shut down.” He rolled his eyes and started back to the hotel across the way. I followed him. “Do you care so little about everyone here? I know you don’t care about me but I thought since Minho had given you a shot to-”

He spun on his heel and got so close to me, I could feel his breath on my nose. I didn’t back down, ready to feel whatever he would spit at me.

“I don’t have a choice. They don’t make it a habit of letting you leave after you get involved. And you’re right. I don’t care about you. Minho gave me this job because he took pity on me. He knows what I’ve been through to get where I am now. None of which concerns you.”

“He has the most to lose if you take this place down with you. Don’t let me catch you again, I’m not afraid to tell him.” My heart rate would say otherwise with him so close to me.

“Last I checked, you weren’t my boss.” He raised an eyebrow in silent challenge, daring me to turn him in. I simply rolled my eyes.

“Go home, Chris.” I pulled myself out of his gravity to walk back to my car. I made it three steps before his voice called out to me again.

“See ya tomorrow, Sparkles.”

I didn’t deign to respond, that nasty feeling in my gut telling me this wouldn't be the last time we would talk about this.

***

There were 49 tiles on my bedroom ceiling.

It was well into four in the morning by now. I’d been tossing and turning all night long, mulling over whether to follow through on my threat. Weighing the pros (he might get fired) and cons (he might get fired) of it all was getting exhausting. Thank God I had the day off tomorrow. I knew just who to talk to about it.

“And what do we have the pleasure of getting off your chest this early in the morning?” Felix’s adorable freckles were already lightening my mood. Mixed with his new hair and the rising sun, it was the perfect elixir.

“Oh my god! It’s blue!”

“Mhmm. What do you think?” His eyes were so bright that I couldn’t help but reply,

“I LOVE it! You look like a blue raspberry lollipop!” He let out one of those genuine, deep laughs that made everyone around him turn to look for the source.

“Ha ha, very funny. It was time for a change so I made one, okay? Make all the jokes you want.” His cheeks were pink as he smiled at me. “I’ll meet you at your usual table with the cupcake of the day, okay?” He nudged his chin in the direction of the approaching gaggle of customers. I nodded and strode for my table near the window. The normally busy street was quiet at this time of day with the morning sun just barely peeking out of the clouds. Felix enjoyed the morning time in his shop, the smell of coffee wafting through to the street outside. While he barely drank it himself, he liked the joy it brought others. And the smell? He once told me it brought in twice the amount of morning customers than when he didn’t brew any at all. Then he enjoyed the morning rush so much he brewed it all day long, just in case. Besides, what went better with a homemade danish?

Caught up in the bustle of working people running to work, taking a morning stroll, or going for a run, I didn’t notice when Felix brought the most delicious looking thing I had ever seen in front of me with a plastic cup full of light brown liquid, complete with a straw.

“I can see the bags under your eyes from over there. Did you sleep at all?” He’s so cute when he worries about me. It makes me wonder if he had anyone special in his life. He certainly deserved it. Come to think of it, he had never said. I wasn’t sure if he was single or not. As little as I knew about him, he sure knew about me. Enough to know when I haven’t slept, at least…

“Was my peppy demeanor at seven-thirty in the morning that much of a giveaway?” My voice was dripping with sarcasm, making Felix chuckle. He looked me over, waiting for me to give my reasoning for visiting him so early on my day off. “I trust you, Felix. I trust you more than I probably should. That’s the only reason I’m telling you this is because I need advice. I don’t know what to do.” He nodded and after a deep sigh, I continued. “Last night, I was locking up at the restaurant and I overheard Chris talking. So I went over to check it out and he was talking to some…not-so-friendly-looking dudes. I don’t want to accuse him of something that could be innocent but some of the things they said were so odd. I don’t want this to taint how you see him, I know you guys seem to have become friendly. But I’m just at a loss. I know I should tell Minho just in case it’s something sinister, but what if it isn’t and I’m making a big fuss over nothing? He didn’t deny anything when I accused him of it but that doesn;t mean anything.”

“What do you think he was doing?” Felix cast his eyes over my face, looking for something he didn't see.

“I don’t want to put ideas in anyone’s head. I just wanted someone else’s opinion on the matter.”

“Well, if it’s what you think it was, then Minho deserves to know. He’s got the most to lose in this case. And if it’s not, what have you got to lose?”

“Me and Chris have built this sort of very fragile understanding. He’s not going out of his way to be an ass towards me anymore and it’s been kinda nice. I don’t want to disturb that if I don’t have to. But if he’s doing something to put all of us in danger then Minho deserves to know. And I can let him deal with it.” I leaned back in my chair, feeling the cool metal through my thin t shirt. I didn’t take my eyes off Felix as he listened and nodded along.

“Then I think you know what you need to do. Fragile peace between two people doesn’t seem worth everyone’s livelihood.” My shoulders slumped as his words sunk in.

“No. It doesn’t.”

My knock on the office door was gentle as not to scare him away. Minho was sitting at his desk with his back to me. The pastry in his hand had Felix’s trademark dusting of powdered sugar on top. I snatched it from his hand on my way to the metal chair in front of him.

“Minho, I need a favor.” His jaw dropped in shock at my audacity.

“Well, that’s not a good way to start.” His eyes were hard as he reached across his paper-filed desk to snatch it back and licked it while giving me a pointed look. Minho took his pastries very seriously. I sat back in resignation and took a deep breath before I began, letting any amusement fall from my eyes.

“I want you to know that this isn’t easy for me to say because he’s your friend and you know him better than I do-” He cut me off.

“I thought you two would get past this when I asked you to teach him about bartending. Find a way to get along because both of you-”

“Minho, this is bigger than not getting along.” He shut his mouth, lips now in a tight line. He swallowed as he got up and started towards the door to survey the hallway. He closed the door and sat back down, pushing the sleeves of his shirt up to his elbows and placing his hands in his lap as he cast his eyes to me again. He looked tired.

“Start from the beginning.”

I began to tell him everything I had seen that night; the burly men, the package Chris had given them, and the words exchanged. Minho listened intently, never interrupting me but nodded along to show he was listening.

“I don’t want to kick him out, I just think he might believe he has no other options. Minho, please tell me I did the right thing by telling you.”

“You did. I’ll handle it, don’t worry. I’ll talk to him.”

“Okay, thank you.” My legs were heavy as they carried me out of the office. Minho followed me out but when I turned to the left to go out into the dining room, he turned right to the kitchen. Oh, he means now. I quickened my pace, finally spotting Changbin and Seungmin at the front and made a beeline for them, hoping they would protect me from Chris’s suspicions.

“But that’s what I’m saying dude. There’s no way they would take him off the team!” Ah lovely. More sports talk. I nodded and sighed along with them, pretending to pay attention as best I could. I saw the shadow of the light in the office disappear as Minho closed the door behind the two of them.

“Hey!” Seungmin snapped his fingers in front of my eyes to snap me back to reality.

“What? What happened?”

“We asked if you wanted to go to a baseball game today since we three have the day off.” He was so patient when he wanted to be.

“Yeah, that sounds fun.” I glimpsed back to the dark hallway, not daring to think about what was happening back there. “Listen, I think I’ll just meet you guys at the stadium okay? I’m gonna go home and change.” They both narrowed their eyes, checking me over.

“Are you okay? You seem flustered.” Little did Changbin know how right he was.

“Yeah, I’m okay. I’ll see you guys later, okay?” I heard in the distance a certain office door shut as I desperately tried to make my escape, those glass doors so close yet so far away…

“Okay…” I felt their eyes follow me as I walked as quickly as I could without looking suspicious, pushing the door open to run to my car. The sun was high in the sky by now, beaming down on the earth and roasting it. I just stepped down from the curb leading to the parking lot. Why the fuck did I park so far away? He wouldn’t come after me, would he?

Ten steps away.

He wasn’t the type.

Five steps away.

I wasn’t worth his anger. What could he do to me anyways?

My hand was reaching for my handle when I heard it.

“HEY!” I stopped in my tracks, my eyes squeezing shut to try and block out whatever was coming my way. I kept my hand on my car door, just in case I needed it. What was I so afraid of? I didn’t know, but I didn’t want to find out.

“I knew you just couldn’t resist. You had to tell him, huh?” His voice was drawing nearer, hard like stone, like I was a child being scolded. My inner voice came to me from deep within my mind. Who the fuck is he to talk to me like that?

“Your mistakes aren’t worth everyone’s lives.” After a deep breath, I finally turned towards him. His hands were in his pockets, his mouth in a tight line. His jaw was set, jutting out like he was getting ready for an argument. My confidence was waning the closer he drew.

“My mistakes are none of your fucking business. And now you’ve made it everyone’s problem. If you could’ve just kept it to yourself, everything would have been fine. Now you don’t even know what you’ve done.” His face was now inches from mine, his breath floating over me with the faint smell of his lunch.

“And if you could get your head out of your ass for two seconds, you would see that I’m actually trying to help you.” It came out of nowhere, but I felt the truth of it ring in my bones. I was trying to help him in some convoluted way that I couldn’t explain to myself. Maybe it was my innate nature that wanted kindness to rule the world but I wanted him to realize he didn’t need to do it. Whatever it was, it wasn’t worth it. I was trying to make him see that this place that I loved so dearly wasn’t worth putting it at such a heavy risk. That the friendships here that he had made were not worth jeopardizing. That I…

“Well, I don’t want or need your help. So give it to someone else.”

He turned on his heel and started back towards the building, his expression unforgiving. His boots on the pavement were mocking me like they knew what I tried and failed to do for him. That fragile peace had shattered like glass, pieces broken on the gravel beneath where he stood.

I didn’t know why I wanted him to care.

“Minho just texted me to tell us we should come back for drinks tonight. Says it’s a celebration.” Seungmin read from his phone before looking up at Changbin and I for confirmation. Changbin lit up. He loved after-work drinks when he didn’t have to work.

“Ya! Let’s go!” He glanced at me. “You want to come? We can drop you off at home afterwards.” I didn’t like to disappoint them, but my heart had dropped like a rock in my stomach at the mention of being near that place with him after what happened this afternoon. I started shaking my head.

“I don’t know.” I started. Seungmin interrupted.

“Come on. I know you’re tired but we’ll just go for one drink, maybe two, and then we’ll drop you off at home. Come ooonnnn, come with usss. You don’t want to miss out on the fun, do you? You know Minho brings out the good stuff when we celebrate.”

“Minnie, do you even know what he’s celebrating?” He was so cute when he begged. His eyes got real wide and he started pulling at me like a child in the direction we were already heading out into the parking lot of the stadium.

“No, but you know it’s going to be fun. I know you remember what happened the last time we celebrated.” He flashed me that smile that showed all his teeth, tilting his head in invitation. The thoughts of the referred night came back in ghosts of thoughts, spots of Changbin dancing to some song by a famous girl group and shaking his hips came to the forefront. Following shortly were flashes of Jeongin singing his precious lungs out to some song no one had heard of. Hyunjin in a chair and Felix giving him his version of a ‘sexy’ dance, which resulted in Hyunjin going face-first into a corner in blushing shame. I couldn’t help my smile as the memories bounced around in my mind. So what if Chris would be there? So would seven other people. It would be easy to avoid him. I could talk to anyone else. As long as I didn’t concern myself with him, we would be just fine.

“Okay, fine. I’ll go.” Their smiles were wide as they skipped arm in arm all the way back to the car. The moon was bright, as if leading the way. I watched it the whole drive there, begging it to give me strength.

The irony of walking in the doors I had practically run out of earlier was not lost on me. It was like returning to the scene of the crime. The others cheered and applauded as Changbin burst through the doors and waved in an exaggerated draw of his arms. Seungmin started bowing to his adoring fans sitting in the booths, waiting for us. I was bringing up the rear and laughing at them. Minho and Hyunjin were sitting on one side of the booth while Chris and Han were sitting on the other side, all of them dressed in their normal work attire of black clothes and denim. Jeongin was off to the side on a barstool beside Felix and wearing his normal choice of trendy clothes that included a sweater, a simple necklace, and slacks. Felix was in his ‘baking pants’ and covered in dried flour and powdered sugar.

The remaining boys found other seats in connecting booths while I dragged another barstool to add to the mix. Jeongin gave me a gentle grin as I sat, which I returned.

“You look very trendy today, Innie. What was your inspiration today?” His eyes turned brighter the more he talked about the latest trends that inspired his look for the day. I watched him speak, nodding and doing my damndest not to look to my right. I felt the stare he was shooting at me as he listened to Han talk about whatever subject he was fascinated with at the moment. When Jeongin was wrapping up his small speech, Minho stood up and disappeared across the dining room and into the hallway.

“I wonder what we’re celebrating.” Jeongin whispered to me. I shrugged as I dared a look around the group. When my eyes stopped on Chris, he was looking straight at me but there was something on his face when I met his eyes. They shifted and I would swear they softened. He didn’t drop his gaze though. Not until Minho came back with a bottle and plastic cups. He stopped at the head of the group and paused for the group’s chatter to die down, his evil smirk setting my stomach a roiling.

“Alright! Tonight we are celebrating! And I’m sure you’re all dying to know what we’re celebrating.” He popped open the bottle to draw out the suspense. He reveled in it a bit more when he started to pour out the liquid and passed out the cups. He crossed the group to stand near his old spot near the booth. “A drum roll please.” Everyone started patting their legs for Minho’s desired effect. “I now have a roommate!” He paused for dramatic effect, waiting for anyone to ask who. “Yes, that’s right lady and germs. Lee Minho is now no longer running a bachelor pad. I’ve decided to take in a young and poor, unfortunate soul." With that, he raised his glass to toast the group, who all followed suit. He then leaned across the table to clink his glass with Chris’s. “To roommates!” Everyone echoed and chugged their drinks, migrating to talk with the new roommates. Chris’s gaze never met mine, distracted with everyone else begging for his attention. After a few more glasses and a slip up or two, he mentioned he was going outside for some air.

“So that was your solution?” I asked Minho, sliding into the open booth in front of him.

“I’m installing better cameras outside as well. He doesn’t need to be in a hotel room anyways. We talked it through and we both decided that it was the best thing to do. Those guys don’t know where I live so they shouldn’t come after him anymore. And the house was getting lonely so I fixed two birds with one stone. I’m honestly a little embarrassed I didn’t do it sooner. Why, did you have a better solution?” I shook my head, quick on the defensive.

“No, it’s just not what I thought you would do.”

“Always gotta keep you on your toes.” He winked at me, which was never a good thing. He scooched out of the booth to stand. “He’s getting his stuff tomorrow and we’re taking the day to settle in so I’m closng up tomorrow for all of you to help out. We’re starting at noon since I’m sure none of you wil be up before then!” The end of the sentence was broadcast to the rest of the room so they would hear. There were groans of protest but mainly nods of acknowledgment. Some were just excited to hear they had an extra day off.

“We’ll be there, don’t you worry!” Changbin gave his best immpression of someone excited for it before giving me a look. “You ready?” I nodded. “Okay, Seungmin is in the bathroom and I think I may join him so just hang tight okay?”

“Okay. I’m gonna wait outside okay? He gave a thumbs up over his head as he disappeared down the hall towards said bathroom. After some very hurried goodbyes to the rest of the group and promises to see them later, I pushed the glass door open and stepped out.

The night breeze was a welcome change rather than the stuffy air inside. The trees rustling eased my tense shoulders. I rolled them back to hurry the process along. After some deep breaths, I turned to walk back in when I spotted Chris sitting on a wooden picnic bench with his elbows on the table and his chin in his hands, staring at the moon. I couldn’t look away from him. He seemed at peace, finally left to himself and his thoughts. He was swaying to some invisible music playing in his head while also in time with the breeze. I almost left him to his own devices, wanting to give him his peace when his attention broke to catch me near the door.

“Sorry, I’ll leave you to it.” I crept back further back towards the door leading back inside when Chris waved his hand towards the bench beside him. He pat the seat beside him as he returned to staring up at the sky. My steps were so light it was a wonder I was moving at all. I moved my foot inside the bench to sit, still giving him about a foot or two of space. At which he rolled his eyes but still didn’t move. The silence we kept allowed me to calm whatever was going on inside me. The shaking was starting to take over in my legs, the anxious leg-shaking starting.

What is he waiting for? Why did he invite me to sit next to him? Why did I do it? Is he going to kill me out here? Where no one will hear me scr-

“Do you think the moon ever gets tired of reflecting the sun’s light? He just wants to make light for himself?” What the fuck? By the time I made sense of what he was talking about, my mouth had run away with an answer I didn’t know I was waiting to give him.

“I like to think of it as him borrowing it while he finds a way to make it for himself.”

“How dare the sun keep all of it to herself. Everything needs the sun to survive. No one needs the moon.” His volume had lowered until I was fighting with the wind to hear him. I turned to fold my leg on the bench itself and face him fully. I watched him stare off, this time not quite focused.

“The tides do. Animals need the moon to see during the night.”

He got quiet again.

“I do.” His eyes were big as he watched me. “I needed it when I was younger to feel less alone. I would stare at it for hours on my rooftop, just watching it. Making sure it never left me. And it never did. It was always there.” The memory made me smile.

“Doesn’t the sun ever get tired of shining so brightly all the time?” He was still watching and it finally hit me that we weren’t talking about the sun and moon anymore.

“Yes she does. But one day, she will stop caring about what will happen and combust all on her own. It’ll be catastrophic. But that’s what happens when everything depends on you. You collapse. Burn out. Until all that is left of you is a memory.”

“But at least everyone knew her. No matter what, she made her impression on everything around her. And no matter who they are, they can’t help but watch to see what happens. What she will do next.” His eyes were a deep brown that I hadn’t noticed before. Like chocolate.

“You get very deep when you’re drunk, did you know that?”

He hummed, his smile matching his rosy cheeks as he watched the stone tile on the patio.

“Go home, Chris.” The words were gentler than the last time I had said them, softer with his inebriated state. He nodded, his chin hitting his chest harder as it surely felt heavy. He turned it to rest on his shoulder to look up at the moon once more. I noticed his eyes were getting droopy. Surely he wouldn’t last long out here. I wondered if I should ask Changbin if we could take him home ourselves.

I decided against it. And just in time too as Seungmin and Changbin opened the fornt doors and peared around for us. They waved towards the car.

“Let’s go!” Seungmin shouted. “Changbin said he needs his beauty sleep!” Changbin’s hand slapped his arm so hard he yelled. “What was that for?”

“I did not say that!” Changbin started chasing him down the parking lot towards the car, Seungmin laughing as he ran from the short, muscled man.

I decided it would end badly if I didn’t stop them soon so I rose without looking back to Chris, certain he wouldn’t even notice I had left. I was wrong.

“Bye Sparkles!” He shouted, causing a smirk fighting to be a grin. I turned to him and for once, I waved back.

***

Damn, Minho’s house was nice. No wonder he wanted a roommate.

Chris had settled in the spare room, his things now settled in various spots around the house. I got to learn things I never expected to know about him. He loved recording music for instance. He had an entire setup, equipped with a mic, some soundproof boards for the walls, and his desktop was elaborate. Felix may have offered to help him with the permanent setup, which was quickly accepted. Felix was hard to say no to. When asked if we could hear anything he’d done, it was met with a quick ‘fuck no’ and rumblng laughter.

His new LED lights were a quick setup for Hyunjin, who’s height aided him in such a project. Of course, after this was done, he flopped on the couch with an arm draped over his eyes and said he was taking a break which ironically lasted the rest of the time we were there.

Night had fallen now and Minho had offered to cook for everyone since they helped so dutifully. Hyunjin piped up at this and then immediately flopped back down when he was told he would go last. I was convinced we were the reason Minho had such a large dining table. All nine of us crowded around it was a comical sight, all sitting at various heights on different chairs found around the house. The idle chatter going around was ovely background noise to eat to. Felix was beside me and would turn from Hyunjin to me for conversation. It was my turn apparently.

“Did you think all of this would happen because of you?” He whispered to me, leaning in so no one would hear. As if they could with Han’s screams of laughter.

“I didn’t know what would happen, but leave it to Minho to find a solution that’s truly better for us all.” I picked up my fork again to stab at my vegetables while he spoke.

“I think it’ll be a good thing. Minho’s good with this kind of stuff.” Felix placed his utensils on his plate to bring to the sink where Changbin had already started on dishes.

“What kind of stuff?” I asked, perplexed at his last comment.

“Stuff no one else knows what to do with.” Felix took his and my plate and rose to taken them over, leaving me to think, truly think, about what I had done here.

I had regained some peace with Chris, which was good for me and my job. Chris was living in a home now, free from the unfamiliar cleanliness of a hotel. Minho wasn’t much better, but at least he wasn’t paying night to night to live there. And we all had yet another night together, my family.

I slipped from the dining room down the hall to find the bathroom. After relieving myself, I found my feet wandering down the hall towards the room we had just finished unpacking. A few details were different now, as we had left Chris to put out a box none of us had touched. When Han had picked it up, Chris had shouted at him to drop it. Han did, causing everyone to now look at Chris with concerned eyes. ‘Just some personal things, ya know?’ he had said in justification. ‘It’s okay dude. We get it.’ Han was ever the understanding friend and he continued with the other boxes. Now alone with his things, I couldn’t help my curiosity as the glow of the LED lights called to me. I cracked the door open, just to peek inside when I spotted said box in the corner by his new bed. Each step told me it was a bad idea but I couldn’t resist. My own nosiness would be my downfall.

The flap of the box I peeled back revealed a set of picture frames, all with broken glass covering the details of the pictures inside. I picked up the one on top and opened the frame to see the picture. It was an older woman with three children; two boys and a young girl. The older boy had a little hat on and he was smiling at the camera, a smile I had only seen a handful of times before. It was the other two kids I didn’t recognize. The more I stared, the quicker it dawned on me: Chris had siblings. And from the looks of the picture, he seemed to be the oldest. Well that makes sense. I placed the picture back in the broken frame and dove back in the box for another, unaware that someone had walked in on my snooping.

This second one was a photo at the beach with two children running towards the camera. The rest of the photos seemed to be of the same thing, children with a woman with them. None of them looked recent however, each of them with that yellow tint that only came with age. I brushed the dust from the broken glass to try and get a better look a them when a cough came from behind me. I dropped the frame and it hit the hardwood floor and smashed even further, breaking the glass completely. I spun to see Chris in the doorway, looking pissed as ever. Those features were back in that hard expression that only ever seemed directed at me.

“What the fuck are you doing?” His voice was an even calm as he came over to pick up what pieces of glass he could. I tried to help but cut myself before I could do much. “You really can’t help yourself, can you? You just have to rummage through people’s things and snoop until you’re satisfied, is that it? You just have a habit of being where you shouldn’t. You should put that on your resume.” He left to grab a broom from the bathroom. I was stuck in my kneeling position on the floor, bleeding onto the wood. It didn’t hit me that I was bleeding until he shoved me out of the way to start sweeping up the glass. He was silent as he swept, the sound of shards rustling on top of each other filling the room. When he was done, he saw that I was dripping red. He left once more, returning with a bandaid in his hand. “Go wash off your hand. Check for glass.” I broke from my trance to take it from him and stand fully again. It took all my strength to look at him. His jaw was set and he still looked pissed.

“I-” I stammered as I stumbled out of the room. I finally managed to get it out. “I’m sorry.” He didn’t respond, still looking at the dried blood on his floor. Battling against my racing heart, I ran back to the bathroom to do as he suggested. Luckily there was no glass left behind as I washed the cut and wrapped it. I stayed for a minute to calm the shaking that had begun and to process everything I had seen. So he has a sister and a brother. I wasn’t sure what that meant to me, but it sounded a bell deep within. Knowing that he had other family somewhere on this earth caused a strike of jealousy through me. Mine were gone long ago. Little did he know how right he had been that first day, when he said I had no family. I created one from scratch. I found Minho and we built it from the ground up.

Closing the door behind me, I leaned my back against it, loosening a breath I didn’t realize I had been holding in. I heard the wood creaking from the glow of the lights and Chris reemerged from his room closing the door behind him as well, still stone faced but when he spotted me, it softened just the littlest bit. He continued walking straight past me without a second glance, as if I had been art on the wall, and back into the dining room.

After weeks of lessons, I told Minho that I believed Chris to be ready for a shift on his own.

“Really?” He sounded surprised by this.

“Yeah, I think he’s ready. He’s a natural with customers and I think he could be ready for tonight. Besides, it’s a Thursday. A very laid back night. I’ll be there supervising so he won’t be fully alone but I think he’s ready.”

“And you’re not just saying this because you want to stop teaching him?” His tone was serious even though I knew his question was not. I rolled my eyes so loudly that Changbin could probably hear it from the front door.

“Yes, Minho. You know I wouldn’t say he wasn’t when he is.”

“Okay,” He threw his hands up in surrender. “I’ll text him and tell him he’s bartending tonight. But you have to tell Han that he’s on dish.” My mouth fell open.

“What? That’s not-” Before I could finish Minho shoved me out the door with a maniacal laugh and shut the door in my face. I stared at it, dreading my next task.

Han took it like a champ, as always.

“Oh, Chris is taking over tonight? Oh cool! That’ll be fun.” His chipper attitude never ceased to amaze me.

Chris came in at his usual time but this time he was sporting the usual attire for the front of house. The shirt I had loaned him fit his shoulders well, cut to accomodate his broad width. And the jeans he wore were tighter than he normally wore on his off days. He wore his hat backwards today, adding to his casual demeanor. He looked…normal. And that made my head spin.

He flicked his head towards me, not saying a word just yet. That’s when I remembered what I had gotten the night before.

“Hey.” I responded. “Go ahead and start your prep work for tonight. I need to grab something. I’ll be right back.” He nodded at me and dropped his bag behind the bar. He grabbed some fruit and was chopping when I returned, a grocery bag in hand. He looked up at me, confusion taking over when he spotted the bag. I placed it next to his cutting board and started the apology I had repeated to myself all night long.

“It’s full of empty picture frames. I noticed they were all broken and I thought if you wanted to replace them, you could now. At the very least, I can replace the one I broke. And if you don’t want them, you could just throw them out or give them away.” He was still eyeing the bag, his hand frozen in midair. “And I wanted to apologize for that night. I had no right to go through your stuff, let alone that box. It was wrong of me and I’m sorry.” His features eased with every word I uttered.

“Apology appreciated.” The unspoken words hung in the air. But not accepted. I undersood that. I had broken what little trust we had. I swallowed and nodded. “Can you put it beside my bag? I’ll put it in the office when I’m done here.” I quickly did so.

“I know it’s your shift and you probably want to do all the work. But would you like some help? With the prep work and stuff. I’m bored out of my mind and I imagine I’ll only get more bored since I’m shadowing you tonight.” He chuckled.

“Yeah sure. I noticed last night that we were out of cherries up here. Can you grab some from the back?” When he finally looked me in the eye, I saw that familiar gleam. He must be in a good mood today.

“Yeah. Sure, no problem.” I rounded out from behind the bar where he stood and felt his eyes watch me go through the hallway and into the kitchen. Seungmin noticed my cheeks were tinged pink and beamed as he teased me mercilessly until I threatened to trade his salt for sugar. That just earned an eye roll, but at least he stopped.

Dinner service was going fine. Spectacular even. Chris was keeping up with the tickets just fine. He even knew the answers to Jeongin’s questions about specific kinds of drinks. Chris had adopted the nickname for Jeongin quickly, calling him Innie for the entire shift. But there was one particular customer that I had been chatting with off to the side for a couple hours now that began the trouble. Chris had been busy with other customers to notice what had happened.

“Sir, I think you’ve had just about enough to drink.” I said in my best playful voice, noticing that it had shot up an octave.

“Oh come on, beautiful. Just one more. I promise I’m not driving home.” A lie. His keys were sticking out of his pocket.

“Oh don’t lie to me. Let us call you a ride home, on us.” I said, still in that playful voice to try and keep him calm. I tried stepping back from him towards my phone, not realilzing that my arm was still on the bar. He lunged for my arm, spilling his drink all over the bar. He didn’t seem to notice as his grip on my arm tightened.

“Just one more! I’m not hurting anyone!”

“Sir, you’re hurting me.” Even with this fact pointed out to him, he chose to ignore it. His hand lowered to my wrist, catching my smartwatch and popping it off. It took more force than it should have to wrench my arm free of him. Changbin had come up behind him and lifted him off the barstool.

“Alright man, you put your hands on my coworker. You gotta go.” He didn’t wait for the man to regain his strength in his legs as he shoved him out the door.

I was putting my smart watch back on when Chris came back up behind me.

“You handled that really well though. That guy was being difficult but you took him head on. It was fun to watch.” His eyes were wide, like it was still dawning on him, still processing.

“Christopher! Was that a straight compliment?” I asked, trying to keep the mood light. It was the first time a genuine smile had been directed at him instead of around him. My chuckle must have gotten to him because he smiled back at me. A real one, with no ill intent hidden in his eyes.

“I guess so.” It was the first time I noticed that when he smiled for real, he smiled with his eyes too. He inclined his head in a small bow, bringing his eyes back to mine. I couldn’t look away from them, that twinkle a little too beautiful to be fake. He looked away first, clearing his throat to bring me back to myself. I blinked, shaking my head to clear the moment from my system and grabbed a cloth to clean up the mess, my once steady hands now quivering ever so slightly.

The rest of the night went by smoothly. Chris seemed at ease up front, like I knew he would. He didn’t need my help but only a few times, when a cutomer asked an outrageous question that I barely knew the answer to. And when Changbin closed the doors and flipped the ‘open’ sign to ‘closed’, Han sat directly in front of Chris and shouted.

“Show us your skills, man!” Making Chris laugh was easier than expected. He was a fan of stupid dad jokes and puns. He never gave up a chance to make one. Han would laugh louder than he meant to and Changbin would roll his eyes. Seungmin would call him old, which wouldn’t end in his favor.

I stood behind him in the back of the bar, just watching him show off the skills I had taught him to the others. Throwing the shaker to get it to spin was a real crowd pleaser. They all watched with awe as he threw every trick he had at them, some even surprising me. He had learned some off the clock as well.

After wowing everyone with his skills, he turned to me behind him and motioned for me to sit on an empty stool in front of him. I cocked my head in suspicion but did as he bade.

When I was seated, he others had sectioned off into conversations of their own, leaving this side of the bar to just the two of us.

“And what can I get you, Professor?” I had to smile.

“I’ll let you decide. Whatever you think I’ll like, I’ll go for.” He squinted at me and nodded his head as he turned to the wall of liquor and looked around for inspiration, his plump lips pursed in thought. I watched as he worked and when he noticed, he made a big show just for me about turning his back to me so I couldn’t see what he was pouring into the shaker. I giggled and turned away from him, turning my attention to the TV that was still on behind the bar. After what felt like hours, he placed a pink drink in front of me with a proud smile.

“And what is this?” I asked, picking it up to examine it. He rolled his eyes and sighed dramatically.

“Just drink it.” It tasted delicious, notes of fruit and just the right amount of liquor to make it passable for me.

“Its really good, what is it? Something you got off the internet?” He crossed his arms in front of his chest.

“Nope. It’s something I made myself. Just for you.” What?

“For me?

“Yep. I’m calling it The Sparkler.” I couldn’t help as my mouth parted in shock. No quick remarks, no response came to mind. I just sat there with my hand wrapped around the glass, staring at him. He held my stare to his credit. “Do you think we could put it on the menu? Make it a special and see how it sells?” I still couldn’t find my words, so I just nodded. He gave me that proud smile again, his eyes squinting as he walked away towards the others. I had no choice but to watch him. I drank my special concoction in silence, still reveling. By the time I was done, I needed air. And space away from the loud chatter to process the night’s events.

I had slipped away successfully into the clear night air. Another warm night, one of my favorite things about the summertime. The day was too hot, too humid but the night? The nighttime was my favorite. Especially when the sky was clear, like tonight. So I decided to hop up on my trunk and let the moon shine on me like it had for all those years. I must have been out there a while.

“Why are you laying on your car like that?” His voice made me jump, quickly sitting up to find Chris looking at me like I had three heads. His shirt had been unbuttoned, leaving the slightest peek of chest for me to steal glances of.

“Some of us actually enjoy looking at the stars and moon while we’re sober.” I flashed him a proud grin as I lay back down to resume my gazing.

“I used to love it as a kid.” As if I had invited him, he climbed on my trunk next to me, the weight of him felt as the car bounced slightly. He lay beside me, as if he couldn’t help himself and turned his head to look at the darkened sky. I lay there for a moment as I waited for my car to stop bouncing, determined not to let him ruin this for me. His voice broke my silence, quiet like he was scared to disturb anything around us. “Do you think there’s life out there?”

“I think anyone who doesn’t is living in ignorance. We are one planet out of thousands, if not millions. There’s no way we’re the only ones.” I shook my head as I gazed into the abyss above us. He hummed in agreement and silence fell again.

“Do you see that star right there?” I pointed to our left, hoping he would see the one I was referring to. He scooted towards me to get a better view of exactly where I was pointing, his shoulder now touching mine. I glanced down to our connected point, suddenly breathing very quickly. I had to focus all of my concentration to calm my racing heartbeat.

“I think so?”

“Now if you follow the points below it, it makes a shape like a house. Like the one you would draw as a kid.”

“Oh, I see it now.”

“It’s named Cepheus. After the husband of Cassiopeia and the father of Andromeda in Greek mythology. He was a king of Aethiopia and he tied his daughter to a rock to be devoured by sea monsters and end the plague of their kingdom.”

“Father of the year.” I chuckled, a little louder than I meant to.

“Oh yeah. She was saved by Perseus and later married to him. It’s said that Zeus put him in the sky after his tragic end because he was a descendant.”

“And now he gets to be in the sky forever, watching other fathers be worse than he was.” We both laughed at that and it became silent again, both just admiring Zeus’s handiwork.

“When I was younger, I would go looking for my house in the sky. I loved Greek mythology so I looked up everything I could find and when I found that, it felt so specific to me that I thought it was put there just for me. So when I had to hide from the unpleasant things happening in my house, I would climb on the roof, clear or rain, to find my real home in the sky. I would tell myself that I would find a way to get home, away from them, away from all of it. Little did I know, I would. Just not in the way that I thought.”

“Looks like we both grew up with shitty fathers.” One day, I would ask him what he meant by that. He turned to face me, his face so close I could smell his breath. The air was thick enough with his body heat radiating off of him in waves. His shoulder was still touching mine, our exhales mingling now that we were face to face. Swallowing was difficult. My eyes flickered to his full, plush mouth. The thought of what it would be like flashed before me in soft, feathery light. And just for a moment, I thought it might be nice.

“You’re not who I thought you’d be, you know.” I said as I broke the trance we were in, turning back to the sky. He did the same, moving one arm on his chest and the other down to the side between us, a small brush on my pinky finger before it was moved away. .

“I could say the same for you.” Our words hung together in the air above us, hefty after what had occurred between us these past weeks. There was an electricity that surged, an understanding we had come to; we weren’t so different after all.

His pinky had crossed over mine so gently I thought I had imagined it. I felt the words he couldn’t manage to say aloud. Thank you. I curled my finger, locking in an unspoken promise. I’m not going anywhere. He didn’t flinch like I thought he would, seemingly needing it as much as I did. We laid there a moment, pinkies locked like we were children and breathing in the night air once more.

“We should probably get back inside before they wonder where we are.” He said quietly. He didn’t move, as if he too didn’t want to break whatever was happening between us. We stayed perfectly still, neither of us daring to tear our fingers apart as we watched the sky.

I thought about that moment a lot over the next few days. I would be washing our bar dishes when the thought would come back to me and my fingers would be pruned when I came to. Or Han or Changbin would come up to the bar and snap their fingers in my face to snap me free, saying I had been staring at the wall for ten minutes. I didn’t know what had come over me. I was overanalyzing every second of that night, wondering if I had imagined it. If I had, then it was a nice moment that my subconscious had given me. If not, then… I shook my head, unable to focus on the thought for fear that some deeper feeling would emerge.

I didn’t see much of Chris over the next two days. He would come in whenever I would be in the office and I wouldn’t see him during service because of how busy we were. And by the time we were done, he would go home right after work, not wanting to stay. By the time Sunday rolled around, Minho asked if I would be alright serving instead of bartending for the night.

“I want to show him we trust him so I think he’ll be okay without a shadow.” I nodded in agreement and started back out to the kitchen to prepare for the dinner service when Chris walked in through the back door. His hair was disheveled without a hat and his shirt was unbuttoned all the way. His cheeks were flushed and he was panting, like he had been running. A chorus of ‘hey’s flooded the ktichen as he dropped off his bag in the corner and went straight for the office without a second glance at any of us.

“What's with him?” Han asked as he put away the latest load of dishes. I shrugged.

“Maybe he was just running late.” I responded. It was Han’s turn to shrug as he went back to the dishes, his apron hitting the floor as he did. I grabbed what I had come for and pushed the doors of the dining room open, passing the closed door of the office on the way. My gut was screaming at me to pause and listen but the last time I let my curiosity get the better of me, it ended badly. I ignored it.

Some time later, Chris was heading behind the bar to start his prep work, his expression not really changed from when he arrived. Well, his shirt was buttoned and his hair was brushed now but his cheeks were still pink. I sauntered over to him and knocked on the wood of the bar to grab his attention. He turned to spot me, flicked his head in greeting, and got back to chopping. Hmm.

“You must be excited to not have a shadow looming over you tonight. It can get pretty crowded back there.” He shrugged, his mind preoccupied with something. “Chris?” He turned to me again, his face blank. “Are you good? You okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just trying to finish this.” He clipped then resumed his slicing.

“Okay. Sorry.” He didn’t respond. So I guess that’s the end of that. What is with this guy? Everytime we had found common ground or made an attempt at a friendship, he shut down faster than a computer. I pondered it the entire shift.

Sunday nights were nights no one wanted to stay back. Tonight was no exception. One by one, everyone who had clocked out left with a half-hearted goodbye and went home, leaving me and Chris to finish up the closing activities. Because of course.

Chris was finishing up putting the bottles and glasses away as I mopped the floor. We hadn’t spoken much that night, only speaking when it had to do with work. A ‘hey, can you make this’ here and a ‘can you grab me some more oranges’ there, nothing of note. Nothing out of the ordinary. Except it was. For him and I at least it was.

I was just finishing up as Chris reappeared from putting the last of the empty dish racks away. He walked over to the clocking station, punched in his numbers with his bag on his shoulder, and grabbed a plastic cup from the side of the soda machine. He went behind the bar and poured himself a beer, grabbed his bag again, and sat in a booth on his phone. I watched him do this with a bewildered look. The fuck is he doing? I voiced such a question. He looked up from his seat, seemingly surprised I was asking.

“What does it look like I’m doing?”

“I have no idea. That’s why I asked.” I retorted as I resumed my mopping.

“Well, you’re the last one here and it’s dangerous for anyone to be out late at night. So I’m waiting for you.” I almost dropped the mop handle.

“What?”

“Especially for a woman late at night. We can’t have you getting kidnapped. Then who would help me give Minho a hard time?” Was he being serious? His face said yes. I stared in disbelief.

“I don’t understand why you’re so nice sometimes and then not. I say something nice, you say something nice back. You make a joke, I laugh because I think it’s funny and we’re good. And then a switch flips and you’re back to being an asshole. And then it flips again. I don’t get it. What have I done to deserve that? There’s so much back and forth with you, I don’t get it.” I shoved the mop back in the bucket and pushed it back to the sink in the kitchen, droplets of water following me with the force I was using. “I think we can be friends and then you snap at me like I’ve done something to offend you when I know I haven’t. Why do you do that? Do you dislike me that much? That you can’t stand to be nice to me for more than twenty-four hours straight?”

“Oh like you’re much better.” He retorted, following me into the empty kitchen. “You can’t seem to look at me in any other way than in disgust except when I do something for you. Like I couldn’t possibly be good enough to stand in your vicinity.”

“Oh please.” I dumped the water and almost threw the bucket back into the supply closet. Chris was right on my tail.

“You know it’s true too. Just when I think it’s safe, you give me one of those looks that tells me exactly what you’re thinking.” I was desperate for something to get me away from him. I looked in all directions, noticing the still full trash by the door waiting to be taken out. Perfect.

“And what am I thinking, Chris?” I asked as I tied the bag and pulled, certain he wouldn’t follow me outside.

“You know your face gives everything away. I can still read you, even better now. I know when you’re thinking ‘hey, we could be friends’ and then it’s wiped away when I haven’t done anything to you!” He held the back door open, knowing it would lock me out if he let it shut. He continued. “Do you know how that feels? Having done nothing to someone and to know that it will never be good enough to be seen?”

“Why do you think I made myself invaluable here? Because I was bored?” I brushed past him and ran for the clocking station. I punched in my numbers, seeing the screen turn colors from the strength I didn’t know I had. ‘Clocked Out’ flashed and I ran for the office.

“Why do you keep following me everywhere?!”

“Because I am in physical pain when you walk away from me! I can’t stand it when you do that. And you do it often and it scares me when I can feel my chest collapse with every step that you take.”

Everything stopped. The trees stopped rustling outside. The wind stopped blowing. Like nature gasped and waited, listening for what would happen next.

“Why does it do that? Huh? Why can I feel every crack when you walk out that door? What is wrong with me that being anywhere but near you brings me to my knees? Why can I feel my heart beating in my chest even now?” I didn’t dare turn to face him. I couldn’t. He had taken the wind out of me.

“What have you done to me?” His voice cracked at his words. My own heartbeat was the only thing I was sure of. And even that was a faint ringing in my ears compared to what was just laid out before me.

What that the feeling that I had been ignoring this whole time? The voice in my head whispered what I already knew. I heard his footsteps behind me. There we both were, finally standing face to face in the middle of the dining room. His eyes boring holes into mine, desperately seeking any kind of answer to his plea. I found what was left of my voice.

“What?”

“Why do you consume my every thought? Why is it you that I dream about?” It was that moment that I realized I had been doing the same thing. There was a reason he was always on my mind, a reason that not a day went by without thinking about him. It hit me like a blow to the stomach.

This time, I let my curiosity win out. I crushed my own lips to his, finally knowing for myself what those lips felt like. I wrapped my arms around his neck as he wrapped his around my waist, encircling me like I might slip away from him. He opened his mouth enough to encourage the same from me, leaving him free to bite my bottom lip in a hungry mess. My own instincts took over as my hands moved from his neck to his hair, pulling enough to make him groan in my mouth. Oh god.

He held me there until I felt like I might pass out from lack of oxygen. I let go and pushed him away, stumbling back a few steps. My mind was reeling from the last five minutes, going from his words to the ridiculously addictive quality of those lips. I couldn’t look away from them, as red as they were. I was sure mine were the same.

“This was not what I had in mind when you said you were waiting for me.” He laughed sheepishly, burying his face in his hands. He was cute when he was shy. My own amusement at what had just occured was finally dawning on me. I couldn’t help the fit of giggles that were coming about. He peeked through his fingers at me.

“What? What are you laughing at?” His smile reached his eyes making them squint, his cheeks still flushed.

“Nothing! I’m not laughing at anything. I can’t believe what just happened.”

“I can’t either.” He sighed. “Go get your bag so we can go home.” Oh. Right.

This time, he let me go alone, my footsteps the only sound bouncing off the walls. When I came back, he was sitting at a booth inspecting his hands. His bag was on his shoulders. He looked dazed until he heard my footsteps coming closer and beamed at me as he stood. He reached a hand out towards me. It took me a second to realize what he was doing. I folded mine into his and we headed for those big glass doors. He let go only for me to lock the door and quickly reclaimed my hand, as if it belonged to him now.

“I guess we have a lot to talk about.” He nudged me with his shoulder as we kicked the gravel on the way to our respective cars. More of the giggles from earlier were coming back.

“Yes, we do. But I can’t form a coherent thought right now. How about we talk tomorrow? Give us time to process and think about what this means? More specifically, me?” He smirked as he grabbed my other hand and stopped me a foot from my car door.

“Alright, fine. Tomorrow then. We can do breakfast at Felix’s, how’s that? My treat. Call it a date.” He had such hope in his eyes that I couldn’t say no.

“Only because he knows how to keep a secret. He won’t tell the others.” He nodded in agreement. “And it’s not a date.” His hope deflated. It was my turn to smirk. “Not yet. You’re taking me out to dinner first.”

“Or I could cook for you? I haven’t shown off that particular skill yet.” I raised my brows at him.

“All to be discussed tomorrow. I promise to keep my mind open, okay?” He dropped my hands and he stepped backwards towards his car, not parked far off.

“Okay. Then I will see you tomorrow then.” I nodded, watching as he turn on his heel and stuffed his hands in his pockets. I opened my own door as he did the same, pulling out shortly after and reliving that kiss the whole drive home.

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somethingusefulfromflorida · 11 months

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If you were stranded, like a Donner party situation. How would you prepare the poor schmuck who drew the short straw?

Real answer? Wait for them to die first. I've long been of the opinion that if I'm ever trapped in a Donner Party/Flight 571 situation, I'd give my fellow survivors permission to eat me after I died. I'm not using it anymore, they need it more than me. As morbid as it sounds, I want to establish this promise up front so nobody has to hem and haw over the morality of it as they slowly starve to death in the snow. I'm not gonna kill anyone for food, but if we came to an agreement before hand and they died early, then it's fair game. I never want someone to say "this is what he would have wanted" unless it is in fact what I would have wanted. If I die, eat me. Those Uruguayan rugby players were stranded in the Andes for ten weeks. The government search was called off early. Their parents were seeking the advice of psychic scam artists to find them. They had to make a difficult decision, and it ended up saving 16 lives. Nobody wants to think about this because it's very unlikely to ever happen, but for the poor few who find themselves in this situation I feel it would save a lot of time and stress to let it be known from the start that there's no shame in it, especially after all other options have been reasonably exhausted. You can only subsist on leather, seat cushions, toothpaste and lipstick for so long. It's not something to be enthusiastic about, but if it's the last resort, you do what you gotta do to survive, and no one can judge you for that.

#uruguayan air force flight 571 #flight 571 #miracle in the andes #donner party #survival

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thesherrinfordfacility · 8 months

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orwellian's a great word for it actually. "appropriate raiments will be provided" is the most disturbing thing in the whole series and i stand by that. this interpretation of heaven has definitely coloured my reading of the show especially how i see the fall so it's cool to see someone who agrees!

hard agree that pure coercion would be a total cop out. it's just that he does seem nervous so i do think he's aware of a certain degree of potential danger. i initially thought the metatron must have let slip an implication somewhere but i much prefer your idea that he suspected something. and well. i've been saying basically since season 2 came out that accepting the offer doesn't equal having completely fallen for it. will come back to that in my thoughts on the whole mess that was that domestic.

the blanket permission to come scream at you is greatly appreciated and i'll definitely make use of it; i love this kind of media dissection and speculation. 🦭

(p.s. i did indeed end up making the chekov's list since my ocd never can leave well enough alone lol. brace yourself: incoming!)

hihi again, 🦭 anon!!!✨

yes!!! in the context of 1984, especially, that line really is ominous; obviously there is a fine line between a corporate uniform and dictated dress, especially as the only scene where we see all of the angels look the same (iirc) is the waiting platoon in s1. otherwise, all of the angels do have individual dress/style (but similar enough to show belonging), even in the job scene, even if certain elements of their designs indicate shared rank or moral alignment... but the implication of subjugation made by clothes being specifically chosen for the prospective mind-wiped gabriel is... interesting.

and of course - aziraphale's outfit is very different to that of the other angels, in it being actual human clothing, and showing unashamed signs of wear and comfort. i remarked in a post that in job especially, his jobes (job robes) are very similar in aesthetic to that of michael and gabriel compared to say muriel's. could be that it's the appropriate dress of a principality rank, but im not... wholly convinced.

anyway, let's get on with your list!!! a herculean effort, truly!!! hope you don't mind, but a) ive copied and pasted it under the cut, because b) id love to use it as a checklist for myself (and of course if anyone else does!) re: things ive talked about, or indeed things that i have Thoughts on... or even things that i haven't thought to talk about and will probably look into doing so in the future!!!✨✨

episode 1:

starting with the big one there's the pre-fall sequence. the fall itself. talked a lot about these two things/the whole theme in general, found under the #the fall/the great war spec tag

maggie's spelling under the #we need to talk about maggie theory tag - babygirl is an angel, im convinced of it

"what's the point of it all" i mean, kinda talked about this in connection with stuff under the #god is dead theory tag, and in a couple of different asks; mainly that god doesn't give two hoots about any of it, and just wanted to give everyone and everything free will - and they have to work out the consequences for themselves (whilst she throws in a few chaotic sprinkles to keep things interesting)

shax's insider information about heaven ive definitely not discussed shax at all really, and i definitely have a few things id like to work out... main one being, for me, how she went from wondering where aziraphale was in ep3, to suddenly knowing how to exactly triangulate his position in ep4 finally talked about her in the #shax meta tag!!!

the demons being on half rations didn't really think to look at this!!! that could be interesting, especially with the short-staffed comment... someone did put to me that bc the apocalypse failed, everyone on earth continues dying and adding to the population of the Damned, so the work vs demon ration is steadily getting outweighed... but hm, could be something more than that!

"something terrible" because are we sure we're sure that that was about the stuff we've already seen you know, i wondered this too after ep6!!! it was a very interesting choice of words for me, bc whilst yes gabriel's fate was looking pretty shit, the line was almost a bit... well, over-announced? they kept repeating it? like, gabriel said he had to bring the box to aziraphale/the bookshop otherwise something terrible would happen... but why specifically the shop? is it just because aziraphale is the only angel/sanctuary on earth? is it because he was drawn to an angel that's also fallen for a demon? is it because aziraphale is simply kind? i don't trust that it's any of these explanations at all (or maybe all of them and another besides)... and tbh i think god has something to do with it. another speculation for the to-do list!!!

the book of life this one ive remarked on a fair bit under the #book of life theory tag, but it's fairly disjointed from other bits and pieces - tbh i probably need to do a long post at some point as to where all my theories etc join up... bc for the moment all of them are full of loopholes

michael and uriel's power politics oooooh i literally don't have a single scooby on this... id have to think on this a little more

the very highlighted matchbox quote this one ive had sat in the drafts for ages bc i can't quite parse it out - where does leviathan come into it? is it a reference to crowley-as-aziraphale spitting fire during the execution? why would it be on a matchbox of a bloody pub? is it a clue from god? is god linked to jim/gabriel somehow? gahd this one is still giving me a headache kinda? wrote about this - here, no tag for this specifically - and im still not fully satisfied that is the meaning of the matchbox but i think (hope) it might be somewhere near the mark?

1650 i speculated (or, well, dreamt up a hc) as to what this potential flashback could entail in a LWA response somewhere - in any case, give me the boys in cromwellian england and give it to me Now

the 25 lazarii miracle my batshit theory (and yet it makes complete sense to me, i stand by it) is in my #25 lazarii theory tag

episode 2:

heaven and hell working together as a single good cop bad cop system this is similarly stagnating in my drafts at the moment!!! but it's a bit of a mindbender for me bc it means i need to pick apart what everything thinks the job/satan bet was actually about... basically, i think it all comes back to understanding god's will - and all of them (yes, even crowley) have it wrong because imo god is completely amoral and is just the strongest advocate for free will... weirdly, i think the person that had the most right of it was gabriel.

"forces them under an awning together" god i hope this happens in s3... i mean there's no way it won't, right? and so many juicy possibilities (for my money itll be the bandstand, but equally would love, like, the stoop of the bookshop, and then have it mirrored again under like the porch of the south downs cottage) 🥺

gabriel's eyes glowing statements this tbh harks back to what i posted under the #25 lazarii theory tag - definitely something weird going on, and i have a gut feeling the boys accidentally made it even worse lmao

tricking heaven with a sleight of hand this is also going to require a bit more thought!!!

episode 3:

aziraphale's chekhov's diaries see im not sure how important i truly think theyre going to be, but if we go by the prominent influence of the crow road, it definitely has to be a s3 plot device, right? the only thing im scared of is that aziraphale's memory gets wiped, or he goes missing, and the books are key to getting back his memory/finding him... hmmm

crowley's consciousness extending into the bentley i think the crank is certainly important, even if just symbolic of his power - uses it to create nebulae, it survived the s1 explosion, etc. i do think bentley has its own kind of personality, but think it's borne out of proximity, use, and influence of her demon owner... obviously i could be entirely wrong, but i kinda hope it's more that he made her, and her allegiance as a sentient being is with him (and of course aziraphale by extension), mainly bc i want something to look after crowley... but then is it more poetic that the bentley is basically just him, and representative of him finding comfort in himself? idk tbh but she's a bad bitch and i love her

general resurrection themes ive talked a fair bit about the second coming aspect, but not about the resurrection and last judgement so much, so this is one for the list

gabriel's glowing eyes statements part 2 as above (and i realise that you might be talking about what he specifically says, not the general thing itself, 🦭 anon, but in a way what is being said is fairly self-explanatory imo, but why is the heftier question)

shax can sense gabriel in a way the archangels couldn't i personally don't think there's much by way of implication in the method in which she senses him (ie... smell? vs michael's weird sixth sense), but i do think there is something about the fact they can sense him at all... talked about in #25 lazarii spec and the #shax meta tag!!!

"it's always too late" oh god 💀 i had the most batshit theory about this that i don't even want to talk about BUT im with you that it's... an odd line. i love that it potentially references line in the book about crowley's watch being set to hell's time, which is set at "too late", but beyond that... not entirely sure why the line was said or said so... blatantly? feels like something obvious would explain it

rumours that aziraphale and crowley were an item that so far don't seem justified based on what hell knew. rumours that apparently had no major consequences for crowley despite one harmless photo warranting a legion to collect him [screams at 1941 truther sign] yeah this is how it read to me too, 🦭! something definitely happened after that dinner, and im not saying a move was made (and potentially witnessed by a couple of errant nazi zombies) but i think a move was made (and witnessed by a couple of errant nazi zombies) - #1941 spec tag

the literal chekhov's gun in the bookshop this one has flummoxed me, but i did read a speculation about continuing the 1941 flashback today, which was utter genius (and so much better than what i managed to dream up in the above tag), and suggested the derringer will make an appearance in a fight-ish scenario in that scene... which is frankly bloody inspired tbh, and im very much convinced by

the miracle blocker oooooh i don't have a dedicated tag for this but i definitely talked about it in a post under the #sanctuary/bentley theory tag!!! i think it was potentially a chekhov's gun that we didn't see get fired

sleight hand to trick hell probably one to look at in hand with the one above about tricking heaven

the zombies just running around london kinda as i said above tbh, not sure what'll happen to them afterwards but presumably a grisly end being eaten and pooped out by a spider

1941 full stop. we have not seen the last of that night. goddamn right we havent [skips around the 1941 truther sign]

episode 5:

the lack of demons available for the attack pretty much what i said above in ep1 about being short staffed bc the Damned population keeps increasing... maybe? still one to look at in more detail though!!!

"i know. do it anyway" "i know. looking at where the furniture isn't" not necessarily in reference to these quotes specifically, but in the general context - discussed this (and potential crowley memory loss) in the #the fall/the great war spec and #book of life theory tags

"if it happens twice it might seem like an institutional problem" oh. OH. THIRD EYE HAS OPENED. because we know two things, right? gabriel didnt fall/wasnt intended to, so the 'happens twice' isn't realised. and heaven does have an institutional problem, practically embodies the term. so if this is foreshadowing. does aziraphale fall. oh no. Oh No (ive sort of discussed this in #scapegoat theory tag but that was strictly pre-eden context...) this however has actually just made me realise that this is a chekhov's gun literally pointed at aziraphale's head... shitshitshitshitshjthka

mrs cheng's weird look across the street see this is on my list but waaaay down it. think she could be a demon. will work on it at some point edit: talked a little bit about this in the #shax meta tag, but possibly needs a dedicated post, idk

nina and maggie's semi immunity to miracles so the bit where aziraphale can't miracle them? that to me is potentially the same explanation as the miracle blocker post (like it all connects). maggie is more immune than normal to the ball miracle? see #we need to talk about maggie theory tag. as for nina... im still not sure on. idk if she's a demon (which for me is a Thought if we consider that hell are short-staffed; she could be one of Many) but it feels a little on the nose... one for the list edit: talked a little bit about nina in the #shax meta tag, but definitely needs a separate post at some point

shax saying the shop isn't an embassy anymore but the demons still unable to get in i didn't think of it from this angle, but i think my theory still stands - under the #sanctuary/bentley theory tag

nina and maggie's immunity to miracles part 2 oh oops - see above

episode 6:

maggie being able to invite the demons into the shop i think she's an angeeeeeeellllll (see #we need to talk about maggie tag)

the speed at which the portal opens and it's potential as a means of spying my latest galaxy brain moment (i hope) - #sanctuary/bentley theory tag

haloes and the potential consequences of blowing them up this one is in the #halo theory tag

crowley opening the files not quite sure what you mean by this one, 🦭!!! do you mean about his rank? definitely tried parsing this particular headscratcher in the #AWCW spec tag

heaven was trying to restart armageddon in a way that seems awfully unofficial oooooohhh.... haven't looked at it this way, but definitely will be!!! might link in with #god is dead theory stuff, but will need more exploring!!!

saraqael having their own agenda honestly saraqael is my newest bad bitch (gn) and if my #saraqael spec is even halfway true, im going to explode i love them

"i'm the only first order archangel in the universe" *camera cuts to crowley* kinda talk about this in the #AWCW spec tag but since neil cremated the lucifer theory (rip) ive kinda left this aspect alone... tbh i don't think he was as important as he's set out to have been

"i'm the only first order archangel in the universe" full stop. statement's plenty suspicious on its own too. this is....... potentially very intriguing

memory wiping as just a thing heaven does when someone disobeys i need to reconcile #book of life theory with this tbh - like, the focus on memory is so strong in s2 that i strongly believe it has connection to falling... at which point, where does gabriel demotion/mem wipe punishment fit in? and where does saraqael fit in, too?

muriel having the same kind of position gabriel was going to be demoted to vaguely looked at this in #book of life theory tag posts i think, especially in reference to how their potential punishments (in muriel's case) mirror each other

heaven and hell are technically at war now. its not like anyone with authority actually called it off danced around this in the #halo theory tag, in reference to aziraphale declaring this new war, and yet they've been at war for a long time? yes the reflection of it being a cold war but still... interesting to think about especially when framed like this

it's possible to remove your essence and store it elsewhere definitely need to explore the possibilities and implications of this at some point, but the suggestion i made in the #25 lazarii theory post somewhat starts to look at this

hell is understaffed as already mentioned above

the shax furfur alliance not quite sure what to think about this, and whether it necessarily means anything more than it's put across (ie just that they are the danger duo of hell in s3?) idk tbh i just need to look at them both as individual characters a bit more first #shax meta tag!!!

the many strange things that could indicate something going on in the last fifteen minutes god.... just anything in the #feral domestic/final fifteen meta tag tbh

"does anyone ever ask for death" idk whether or not to take this as meaning anything deeper than metatron just idly thinking "hmmm aziraphale could refuse my coffee, refuse a chat... at which point ill probably need to destroy him etc. hey, i wonder if anyone - instead of coffee - has ever actually asked for death? funny name for a coffee shop"... and possibly a double meaning meant by Nina saying 'everything else was taken'?

saraqael being the only one other than crowley who recognises the metatron and their reaction well theres my school of thought that saraqael is potentially closer to metatron that we maybe thought (#saraqael spec tag), but then again - and this exact sentence just reminded me - i think in this particular instance, both saraqael and crowley have just come fresh from watching the trial, so that's why they both remember metatron... which begs the question of what happened between the trial and the final fifteen to make them forget? hmmm

almond syrup imo, #omelas theory

the possible miracle chime ehhhh i know i wrote about this but im still like 50/50 on it... but it fits my theory (in the #feral domestic/final fifteen tag) so im rolling with it - i think there might be a chime and i think it might be a failed miracle to change the coffee

the metatron and crowley seeming to have some kind of history lmao anything in #metatron spec or indeed #the fall/the great war spec tags tbh

aziraphale's peculiar mannerisms im getting so lazy with these responses now 🦭 anon im so sorry, but again recently speculated in the #feral domestic/final fifteen meta tag

the way the conversation between aziraphale and the metatron is only reported and very strangely transitioned in and out of as above

the nothing to see here shooting of the kiss this one...

i know ng said it was a continuity error but. the time skip on the clocks ...and this one ive looked at in the #time-stop theory tag, and im the same - not trusting continuity error on this... not just yet

the something's up vibes of metatron. the general scheming and manipulativeness. the framing as the wizard of oz. the colour scheme and the dice on his tie. the sigh of relief in the elevator lol #metatron spec

the credits scene i haven't really gone into this in any detail and tbh idk if it needs it - i think it's pretty reflective of some stuff ive talked about in the #aziraphale meta and the #feral domestic/final fifteen meta tags

plus special mention: not technically in the episode but the distinctly ominous madonna/crucifixion promo photos aaaaaaaand this one is in the #mary/pieta spec tag

again 🦭 anon im really sorry it got a little lazy towards the end!!! but im very, very grateful that you put this all in a list, because ive definitely got some stuff in mind that id like to parse out!!! and as ever - more than happy to scream about things so pop on back if you feel the need to scream with me!!!✨

#VERY long post but its so so so helpful #good omens #ask #in fact this is gonna go in the masterpost

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lollytea · 6 months

Text

20 Questions for Fic Writers

Mar tagged me in this. Thank you Mar <333

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

2. What’s your total AO3 word count?

358,837

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Owls....for now and the foreseeable future. Other things in the past but....owls. Owls and nothing else.

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

There's Sunshine in Your Smile

Atlas and the Avid Reader

A Little Change

An Exercise in Understanding

Girl Talk

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

I don't, I'm sorry!! When I first started posting on ao3, I answered every comment I got, but as more came in, I realized I was running out of ways to respond and it felt like I was just copy and pasting "thank you so much omg!!!" again and again and it felt awkward and disingenuous. (I meant it tho!! I did!!)

Also I never have any idea how to respond to long essay type comments that were picking the fic apart and highlighting everything they like about it. I ADORE those comments!!! They make me happier than anything else on earth but HOW can I respond to them?? A one liner thanks feels cheap and meaningless, but a long ramble about my own stuff feels arrogant.

So I just stopped replying to comments altogether. But listen please listen!!! I do read them!!! I read every single one of them and I love and appreciate them with all my heart!!! Thank you so so SO much to anybody who's ever left a comment on anything I've written!!!

6. What’s the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

I don't really write angsty endings. I guess atlas and pages both ended on a bit of a bittersweet note? Maybe.

That one ducktales fic Fearless left off on a kinda angsty cliffhanger, only because I never finished it. So it's technically an ending

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Man I dunno most of them are kinda open ended (or unfinished) I suppose A Little Change ended on a sickeningly sweet note. Like disgustingly sweet (because I was 19 and stupid and had no concept of subtlety) Penniless Promises ended with a marriage proposal.

8. Do you get hate on fics?

No the only hate comment I've ever gotten is this one

It kinda annoys me. I consider your first hate comment to be a special milestone in your fanfic writing history. I've been waiting years for this. And then I FINALLY get it but I have no fucking idea what it means.

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

I've written bits and pieces over the years but I don't post any of it. I think the last "smut" I posted was weird werewolf knotting shit in like 2017

What kind? Fuckin uhhhhh. It's always very fluffy. Usually there's nothing weird going on. Sometimes there's monsters involved but the monsters are usually massive sweethearts who just want love.

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written?

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Yes. A few times. And it's always fucking wattpad. At one point, somebody put my fic through Google translate and reposted it in Spanish. I would have been completely unaware if somebody hadn't messaged me about it.

The process of getting them to take it down was a fucking circus. Their ability to use Google translate suddenly vanished the moment I contacted them.

I reported it and had to go back and forth with Wattpad support because the fic was IN SPANISH, so they just kinda glanced at it and were like "This is not the same thing that you wrote. These are different words. Spanish words." I was losing my MIND!!!!!!

They took it down eventually. Anyway...sorry I went on a tangent, I just think this is a funny story. Moral of the story is there are probably several stolen fics on wattpad and run through translators, and we have no idea. There might be more of mine on there but honestly I do not have the energy to be monitoring the stupid site. I hate wattpad so much its unreal.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

As we have just learned from the above story, yes :D!!

But also yeah, some people asked permission to translate my stuff and post it with credit. Sunshine has been translated into Spanish and Ukrainian!

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

No I can barely manage to write them myself

14. What’s your all-time favourite ship?

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish, but doubt you ever will?

Undocumented Events of March 23rd. I might update it at some point in the next five years. But I had so many chapters planned that it will probably never reach the ending at the pace I'm going with it. But I love the jungle book husbands. I get back to them at some point in time

16. What are your writing strengths?

Word disease is the worst fucking thing ever but it CAN be a good thing in some circumstances. A huge meaty chunk of a fic. Something to dig into. Having a lot to say can lead to a lot to write. And the more you write, the more likely you'll get some quality stuff in there.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

I repeat. Word disease is the worst fucking thing ever. And when it's coupled with a complexity addiction, UGGH!!! It's a blight on my life. I can't just write a simple straightforward fic, without getting carried away and the ideas just get bigger and bigger. Suddenly I'm implementing more elaborate concepts, scenes that need to be handled delicately. Everything takes absolutely all of my brainpower because I'm a neurotic overthinker who can never just RELAX and write something fun. And I WANT all of it. I want to execute all the plans that exist in my head but then I get overwhelmed by how big and complicated everything has gotten and I get burned out. Which is why things so rarely get done.

I'm a perfectionist. A horrible terrible one. I struggle to write ANYTHING without carefully constructing every individual line of it. Which makes progress so slow and tedious. I get scared to even START fics because I'm afraid I'll make myself feel awful again if they don't turn out good.

My grammar is very imperfect but I'm working on that.

I can be very unnecessarily wordy and take forever to get to the point. I've reread my own stuff and even I have difficulty following it because the sentences just have so many bells and whistles for no good reason. I completely forget a huge chunk of vocab and don't realize they are simpler way to phrase things.

My attempts at executing believable emotional scenes often fall kinda flat. Writing drama is hard but I'm amazed by some people's capability to master it so I'm chipping away at it, hoping to get better.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

I don't really have any thoughts at all about them. Literally none.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

I'd like to say it was Trolls but it was actually Hetalia when I was like 14. But I do everything within my power to distance myself from Hetalia, so I like to say it doesn't count. But....need to be honest.

20. Favourite fic you’ve ever written?

Currently, at this point that I am at, the ones I used to be the most proud of now feel like they were a waste of time. I'm sure that will change again in a few months. How I feel about my own stuff is never consistent. The way that this question is phrased implies a forever favourite. Something I loved then, I love now and will love in future, and that is just never the case.

But also I don't wanna be an Eeyore about it, so I'll say a trance, a dance, a romance perchance?

I really do love my fairy Willow. She's so special to me :D!!

Tagging: after writing this whole post, I now feel very weird tagging people specifically and being like "HEY YOU! Look at this post I made <33" This is like a don't look at me post. BUT I do have lots of writer mutuals. And writer followers. If you're one of them and you see this....you!!!! Tag youre it!!!!

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catsnuggler · 4 months

Text

Where what's left of my mind is, these days.

I feel like my life has been a failure. Years of potential have been thrown down the drain, as I've waited for my brother's mental condition to improve, and for my dad to get a secure job before I get one, myself. I don't want to get a petty little job that would be the first step of my independence, after years of not having had a job, just for my dad to get a more important job, one that's more crucial for him to maintain than it would be for me to maintain a job, and his job ends up being the exact opposite direction from mine, some distance away, can't commute to both places at once, something's got to give, so I gotta give - and then what? Then my resume will show I briefly had a job in 2018, only to quit, and that I then later had another job, briefly, before quitting again - and then when will someone hire me ever again, if that's what my record shows? We've only got the one car, after all. Whatever job he gets, I've gotta get one that's close by, until I have my own means, completely independent of his.

My younger sibling is still in an abusive situation, and isn't going to be convinced by me of anything because I'm not vegan, and because I haven't bought into their "there are never coincidences, so whenever I see any time at all on a clock, or see someone's brake lights turn on, that means I'm doomed or something" bullshit.

I got my dear, beloved cat, Sophia, in 2015, if I remember correctly. She's 8 years old. How much longer will she live, with a dysfunctional family who are economically precarious? Where we don't even play, because my dad physically can't, my brother barely acknowledges her basic existence due to his mental state, and I'm busy trying not to go mad, to keep to myself, to not be told by my dad how uniting with transphobic conservatives to "take back our republic" is the right way, and there's really not much room in my room to play with the cat, anyway? She spends so much time around me, she likes it when I pet her, but I know I've failed her. I sometimes wish I didn't have her, because I know she deserved, and still deserves, a better life... but, selfishly, I don't want to lose her.

So, here I am, unable to make everything better for everyone else, holding myself back because I feel I don't have the permission to get in my family's way by living my life, and fearing that, if I do, that I will suffer the consequences of failure... to top it all off, my memory is terrible. I don't remember calculus or chemistry, and, Hell, I don't even remember much of my own childhood, except if someone reminds me of something, because one of the things I do remember is that I spent my childhood just waiting to grow up, waiting until I'd inevitably get a job, get enough to move out, get free of my family, and finally be able to live as my own independent person. So long as my childhood was boring, traumatic, and not even photographed (my mother was the family photographer. I was 8 when she died. We rarely took any pictures at all after her death), what was the point of my childhood, except to wait for adulthood? To wait for circumstances, those which weren't under my control, to clear up, to the point that I would have the opportunity and the permission to live, and to be myself?

My morality has failed, my mind has failed, I have never truly stood for anything in my life, as I've waited and waited to get to that point. I live because I am still waiting, and because it is my duty not to die. Once one of us goes, the rest will follow. That's why I can't die. Not even if someone else in my family does die. Even then, I have to live; for my partner, for my friends, for Sophia... I have not been successful. I am a disgrace. But I can't die. Damn it all, myself included, but I have to live. Why can't life reward me for choosing to stay the course, even as everything in my life decays, by just cleaning everything up for once? Showing us the metaphorical sunshine? Give us some hope, just drop a bunch of money on us or something one time, and that'll at least fix a few things.

Well, that won't happen, but I still have to live. And fuck anyone who hears this, and decides the smart thing to tell me, upon hearing this, is "Haha, damn dude, I can't believe you're still alive! I would've killed myself a long time ago if I was in your shoes."

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memelorduwu17 · 1 year

Text

Current comfort video

youtube

I've watched his 100 times

So here are my favorite quotes

Tommy- Gasp "Charlie Slimecicle in Brighton?

Charlie- "I'm the crime boy, I'm gonna kill someone"

Tommy- "Enjoy being poor"

Charlie- "Are you prey? "

The entirety of the raps from Tommy, Charlie, and Wilbur

Charlie "Can you cum?"

The tunnel harmonizing

Tommy during the tunnel harmonizing- "the council have found you"

Tommy- "Hello vlog Nation, Time for amersistadam"

Charlie- "Bagoogoo"

Toby- "We have a bomb"

Charlie- "You look like a right nonce"

Charlie- "How much oil do you think that thing takes? I'll take more not even a challenge"

Charlie- "Prank Channel"

Tommy- "You just pranked me on my prank Channel?

Charlie- "Bee Boop"

Tommy and Phil- "Such pretty eyes you have" "thanks mate" "I'm going to gorge them"

Phil and Tommy- Raspberry "I appreciated that father it boosted moral" "Good son"

Wilbur- "there's a cheese shop here, they give you free samples and I once ate so much I vomited"

Toby and Tommy- "thoughts on the Netherlands, Toby?" "It's really pretty, trams are awesome" "you're prettier" "please don't flirt with me" "oh- sorry"

Tommy and Wilbur- "Dalibjukfor" "Deb'jenkorf" "dalibjukfor"

Charlie- points to pidgon "Hello! Only in Amsterdam "

The whole "lib up" part

Tommy and Toby- "tubbo can you cum?" "Oh I would love too" "du- Charlie!" "Ya now you're uncomfortable"

Phil, Charlie, and Tommy- "I got soul but I'm not a soldier" "I got cum but I'm not a" "cummer" "cumster"

Tommy- "I am completely unstable" (my mental state)

Phil and Charlie- "do you want to stand in front and recreate the Titanic?" "Um not the whole thing"

Tommy- "Boat!"

Wilbur- "I hope you're not expecting good travel"

Tommy- "let's rob the vulnerable Charlie come on my pirate brotheren. Ay caramba! That's the pirate noise"

Tommy and Wilbur- "let's mug someone" "go on" "hey!"

Charlie- talking about Tommy "what is going on in there? What is happening in there?"

Charlie just going "bruh" when the duck's were in front of the boat

Tommy and Toby- "tubbo you're always a sunflower to me" "please stop flirting with me"

Tommy- "please do subscribe this is the tom Simons channel. We love you too much here vlog Nation ™" kiss "no other channel- no other channel loves you as much" kiss "that's right dearest viewer no other channel has the same amount of love" kiss "please subscribe"

Charlie and Tommy- "Tommy are you manipulating again?" "With love" kiss

Tommy and Wilbur- "I can't cum™" "what did you say?" "I can't cum™" "what did you say?" "you've been edging me"

Wilbur- "if you arnt subscribed make sure you stay that way"

Charlie and Tommy-"I belong" "west vaginaaaa" "did you just butcher the name of my great state Virginia?" "Is that where you are from? I thought you're from Vermont" "nah I'm from northern vagin- vergin-"

Wilbur and Charlie- "throw a peanut for a bird when we see one" "this is literally cashews" "my brother in Christ"

Everytime they say "stroop me"

Tommy- "wait! The boats cumming"

Charlie- "new scoop here. I'm out of stroops, what am I supposed to do?"

Charlie feeding Tommy a stroop "stroop up"

Tommy, Phil, and Charlie- "Phil watch out for cringe" "watch out for cringe? Where's cringe? " it's me. Cringe"

The entire part of Charlie hanging in the bridge and Charlie immediately saying "stroop me!"

Phil feeding Charlie a stroop

Tommy- "only on vlog Nation" kiss

Wilbur walking through the bush

Toby- "I get to drive for longer"

Charlie- "more stroops for me"

Charlie- "not for tommyinnit. A long man"

The tommyinnit shuffle

Tommy and Wilbur- "captain Wilbur permission to pick up sailor Charlie?" "Permission denied" "really?"

Wilbur and Charlie- "Charlie do you know the layout of Amsterdam?" "I literally don't speak this language"

Them driving through the tree

Charlie standing on the dock. Wilbur- "Charlie can I just take a photo of you man. This is gorgeous" "can you what?" "Wait Charlie you look great right there" "are you fucking serious?"

Tommy swinging in the tree

Tommy- "Charlie can I just say you have tenderus calves"

Wilbur biting Tommy

Charlie- "hey Wilbur odds on throw up" "bLEuRgh"

"Smile like you mean it. Tub-tubbo Char-charlie Philza Minecraft" Wilbur eats camera

Charlie- "ya know it's um 420 today. Wanna get some legos?"

Charlie- "people are chasing after me. These pig people are chasing after me until i- until I put gold on and I give them gold and they give me pearls and they give me so so many pearls and I beat Minecraft in 10 minutes"

Charlie- "I'll eat it. If you give it to me early I'll eat it. I'm too hungry I can't wait" chewing "gulp"

Charlie- "I feel like I'm insane right now"

Charlie- *sometimes to stop yourself from breaking down you gotta build something else up. Blart✌"

Charlie- "Vlog Nation hungry" devours yummy ball thing

Charlie and Toby- "tubbo" "don't look at me like that I'm feelin aroused"

Charlie and Tommy- "can you straighten me out?" "Girls, breasts, vagina. Not dick" "men, balls, cock, balls" "no! no! no!"

Tommy- "I know every bad word. Fuck fuck fuck"

#tommyinnit #charlie slimecicle #slimecicle #ph1lza #wilbur soot #tubbo #tom simons #ph1lza minecraft #Youtube

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the-force-awakens · 11 months

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Top 5 Poe&Leia moments (not necessarily from the main movies) 😊

dreamers hands my most absolute beloved...

when she grounds him after L'ulo's funeral - because it's the first time we really see them pushing the "we're just general and commander" envelope, I think outside of friendly banter. Leia sees through Poe's "golden reckless flyboy" sort of facade he keeps up to keep up morale and to avoid acknowledging his own pain and calls him out on it — which leads to Poe "I'm fine look how fine I am" Dameron actually snapping at Leia and throwing the fact that he's looking for Luke in her face (he has an interesting habit of doing that when arguments get intense/personal and I find it fascinating). I think it really sets up the dynamic we see flourish especially in the last jedi — they're both refreshingly honest with each other and know they can be a little tough with each other when it comes down to it.

there's this bit of banter in before the awakening I love when Leia tells Poe she wants him to steal a yacht and he jokes if she wants him to also nab a top of the line other new model ship while he's at it.

I really do love their argument in tlj? I might be in the minority but it really hits me in my feelings. I don't love that he gets slapped, but I'll always love when two characters can get into a serious argument but there's still no love lost between them. And of course it's followed up with the silly "permission to jump into an x wing and blow something up" and Poe waiting just a fraction of a second longer than he needs to after she gives him permission because she starts to smile just a little bit at him.

THE HAND TOUCH!!!!!! if I ever don't include this in a thing assume I've been taken over by a body snatcher.

The opening of Station Theta Black (aka my emotional support resistance episode). I love how professional they start off and then it quickly falls apart with Leia poking him in the chest and Poe being....Poe, and you've got Kaz in the background with wide eyes watching it all go down, they're ridiculous I adore them

ask me my top five anything!

#shout outs to: poe and leia spitballing in tros together about palpatine bc i love watching their back and forth (altho i can rarely watch #that scene bc it hurts knowing it's their last onscreen scene together)#and poe snapping at rey in through the turbulence over stealing his mentor and promptly freaking out over revealing that much and Bolting #from the conversation.#ty for asking!!!#ask box #nowritingonthewall

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crastledivorce · 2 years

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I feel like a lot of fandom discourse comes from the idea that opinions/likes/dislikes=morality

And I think that's what led to a lot of discourse in the Dream SMP fandom (especially but not exclusively on Twitter) where disagreements over lore and character preferences turned into fights about what was right and wrong.

Empires SMP fandom (mostly meaning Empiresblr here since that's what I'm on) has less discourse and thus is generally much more pleasant place to be a lot of the time (speaking as someone who's been in both dsmpblr and empiresblr).

But I've seen a sort of "we don't want to be toxic and filled with discourse like the DSMP fandom" mentality and I think that led to it's own kind of toxicity.

It didn't get at the root of the problem, the idea that negative opinions mean something is morally bad.

So instead of "I don't like this so it and it's fans are morally bad" you get "I don't like this but it's morally good and other people like it so I'll not post my negative opinions".

I think this is still bad. I've repressed complaints I'd normally have voiced because I was afraid of saying anything against the fandom consensus.

But I think repression is unhealthy. On an individual or fandom scale. In this fandom I've often started out kinda annoyed at something small, only to have it turn into strong resentment and anger because I felt I couldn't complain so I just stewed on it.

Lately it seems like I've seen more genuine criticism of ccs, criticism for good reasons. And every time I've seen fandom criticism of the Empires ccs it's usually something that's been a long time coming, something that might not have got so big if it had been addressed earlier, except that everyone was too hesitant.

After one of these critical posts it always blows up with people agreeing, and it always feels like a lot of people were waiting for permission before they felt it was okay to voice the opinion.

Again, it seems to have been getting better lately, probably because an environment of forced positivity can only last so long.

Anyway point is:

Negativity/criticism is okay, just be normal about it.

This goes whether you're the one being negative or you're reacting to someone else's negativity.

#this was inspired by various things in this fandom but i didn't go into detail about any of them #because i felt unsure i could describe the incidents properly from memory and I didn't want to spend too long on properly referencing them #and also i felt detailed examples weren't needed and would distract from my point more than they'd add too it.#i had specifics in mind but this has also been coming a long time just from my own experiences #empiresblr #mcyt #mcytblr #mcyttwt #dsmpblr #dsmptwt #discourse #mcyt discourse

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dark9896 · 2 years

Text

And now that I've kissed yoooooouuuuu [Klaus x Reader]

This is a follow up fic to (And I kissed yooooou). It seemed a little necessary. 💋

Klaus woke up with a pounding headache, his last clear memory being when he pulled you behind himself during the witch attack. Whatever the potion was must've knocked him out, though the dream he had was a pleasing one. Except for how uncomfortable you seemed to be during it. Perhaps his insecurities keeping him from doing something like that for real were sneaking up again. Klaus realized he was naked under the covers, what had happened last night? Looking over at you made Klaus's stomach turn.

Klaus was usually put at ease seeing you sleep so soundly, curled up under his arm and using his shoulder as a pillow. Klaus would typically love seeing you wearing one of his dress shirts, despite it acting like a second blanket over you. But that, coupled with the light marks around your neck, the ones he could see anyways, only made him worry that it wasn't a dream.

Klaus laid back, bringing his free arm up to cover his eyes with his forearm. Oh no, oh no. This was bad. He had forced himself onto you last night. It hadn't been a dream, that damned potion had effected him that badly. His only saving grace was that his mindless state had waited for you to show interest in preceding. The churning in Klaus's stomach only got worse, you had been uncomfortable with him being so bold, he should have had more self control.

Klaus's attention snapped over to you when you stirred, slowly easing up to look him in the eye. Klaus was having difficulty making eye contact. Yell, scream, do something other than tell him its okay.

"Are you...uh....back to normal?"

That caught Klaus off guard, "I am. I'm truly sorry for my actions Liebe, I never meant to force myself unto you."

Your low groan made Klaus feel worse, "I really didn't mind it."

"Please don't lie to me." Klaus sat up carefully, "It might be a little hazy, but I do remember seeing you look uncomfortable with my advances."

"Well....that's because..." You were rubbing the back of your neck, "I kinda had a moral dilemma to deal with....."

"A moral dilemma?"

"Well, technically you were under the influence of a potion, so it wasn't right for me to let it go on......but I did enjoy it." Klaus watched you fidget, unsure why you would, "And that just made me feel even more guilty because I know you wouldn't do something like that without planning it ahead of time. Or asking first, if it was spur of the moment. So I wasn't sure how much to go along with it....."

You were rambling, though Klaus was starting to feel better, his actions weren't lost on you. You had enjoyed yourself last night, he was able to relax some about it. Yet if he were honest with himself, had the roles been reversed he would be equally uncomfortable. Though he couldn't deny you would be much easier to fend off than he had been, surely.

Your voice cut back through Klaus's thoughts, "And probably the biggest reason I enjoyed that was because I trust you." Klaus stopped and looked at you, blushing and shy. Rambling your heart out, "I mean, if I wasn't interested or asked you to stop you would. So if you wanted to do something like that again, I wouldn't mind. I just--!"

Klaus cut you off with a gentle kiss, allowing his emotions to supercede his normal behavior. He slowly deepened the kiss, carefully pinning you to the bed. Hovering over you, just cupping your face. He pulled away slowly, a light, bright pink blush across his face.

"Th-that's one way to say shut up."

"Liebling, I know I usually take things slow and ask permission. But please don't think for a second I don't think about running with my emotions from time to time." Klaus leaned down and nuzzled against your neck, "Knowing that you trust me so much, it honestly makes me feel a little giddy."

#bbb #kekkai sensen #kkss #blood blockade battlefront #klaus von reinherz

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evita-shelby · 2 years

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I've had an idea for a Thomas Shelby x reader where the reader was this sort of red sparrow-esque Russian spy (Russia and the UK were both allies in ww1). Somehow, they met and had a few run-ins during the war. Like, maybe in between missions she used his tunnels to travel because they were a safer and more low-key way to get past enemy lines, idk. Anyways, as Sergeant Major he felt he was responsible to make sure that her travels through his tunnels were safe (being she's a pretty woman and most of those soldiers haven't seen a pretty woman in who knows how long) so during the war they have interactions that kind or result in this romance.

• Like, maybe one time Tommy says something along the lines of "we (him and his company) are fighting for everyone and no one's fighting for us" and she gets upset (and slaps him) because how dare he say that when she's essentially whoring herself out to get information to help end the war so they can go home (he apologizes later).

• She tells him about a target she had who was into married women so she teamed up with a male spy to pretend to be a couple and as she's telling Tommy about it and he gets pouty and jealous and she's teasing him like "I needed a husband and you weren't there so I had to make do"

• One time he told her all about Small Heath and his family. And even before the war she'd never had a family/home, like her fellow spies are really the closest thing she has to family. So the next time he sees her she tells him that she had been asked about her home and his stories are what came to her mind so she shyly asks permission if it's okay is she thinks of his home as her home too and he kisses her softly and he's like "of course it can be your home too" (just a feel good fluffy moment)

• Maybe she sings for him a couple times and she's got the prettiest voice he's ever heard (later, this is why singing is not allowed at the Garrison in part because In Tommy's mind no one can compare to her and partially because it reminds him of her too much)

• They have sex and it's amazing for her because she's so used to having sex for work and the men she has to sleep with don't care about her pleasure and she's usually the one doing all the work but Tommy just wants her to lay back and make her feel good for once. Afterwards, he gives her his dog tags. She gives him a pearl earring she's wearing.

• Anyways, the last time they saw each other during the war she had told him that she had a feeling that the war would be over soon (a deduction from some information she had gathered) and he tells her than once the war is over he would take her back home with him and marry her. Maybe he tells her that he'll have a ring waiting for her and she tells him not to wait for her (because she knows that even if the war is over the drafted soldiers will get to go home but she will have to continue gathering intelligence for the government

• Btw, they definitely have nicknames for each other. Like he's her brave British soldier and she's his pearl.

After the war he doesn't tell his family or anyone about her but a part of him is still hoping that one day she'll come. When Grace comes along he thinks he loves her, but when he finds out she was a spy he realizes that the reason he thought he loved her was because she reminded him of the reader. Upon the realization he notices all of Grace's flaws, like the reader is his precious pearl and in this light Grace is just a cheap imitation. He realizes he doesn't love Grace and she leaves for New York. Eventually, the reader is allowed to leave her job as a spy and comes to Small Heath looking for Tommy and they're both so happy to finally be together. She's really looking forward to meeting his family from all the stories he had told her and they like her because she makes Tommy happy. Maybe Tommy's a little worried about her reaction to all the illegal stuff but she just like, "how can I help, darling" because she was a spy, she has next to no morals and is 100% down to support him.

A few side points…

• Reader doesn’t care that Tommy has had sex with other people after the war because she told him no to wait for her, and she's been having sex with people for her job during that time

• Real pearls aren't perfectly round, they are unique, and they have a rough/gritty texture, as well as being colder than fake pearls, which kind of sums up the difference between Grace and the reader.

• He definitely get her a pearl ring

• I think one of the reasons the reader loves tommy is because all her targets and most of the men she meets think of her as this pretty diamond to have on their arm while tommy sees her for what she is, and imperfect pearl, but a genuine one (this pearl idea is getting away from me)

• Maybe at some point the reader gets upset because Tommy is showering her in gifts (dresses, pearls, furs, etc.) and she's starting to feel like he's treating her like all those men/targets she used to be around would, but he's doing to because he loves her and wants only the best for her

*I understand if this is way too elaborate for a request, I just kind of want someone to share it with 😅

I hate to tell you this anon, but you have put so much thought into this request that if I wrote this, I woild do you a great disservice.

You could give it a try and submit it here, but i am sorry i won't be writing it.

#I love the historical bits but anon this is your story and you need to be the one to tell it

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amai-no-ura · 1 year

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Hi! It's the 1 seeking a tritype analysis. Thank you very much for taking my case, so to speak, haha. I wasn't sure where to start, so I guess I'll just start by explaining my take on my type. (Oh, and if it helps, I'm a double Lion with a double Bird model and an INFP. I know that's an unusual MBTI type for a 1, but I'm reasonably sure they're both correct? Oh, and I'm probably either so/sx or so/sp.)

Why I think I'm a 1: My deepest fear is that I'm a bad person. Anxiety about this constantly hounds me. I often bully myself into doing the right thing with thoughts that if I don't, I'm a shitty human being. I hold myself to rigorous moral standards and stew in self-hatred if I fail to live up to them. I also have high moral standards for others and will absolutely call out people I think are being shitty. I get into a lot of stupid internet arguments because I can't stand to let someone say something wrong unchallenged. I am fueled by a burning rage at the injustice of the world.

Definitely a gut type, 1 is likely because you hold yourself to rigorous standard. As 8-winger myself, 8s don't hold themselves to high standard. They are more 'revenge is revenge' and 'eye for an eye' type.

Internal thoughts: "God, I don't wanna do X right now... but what if X matters? What if X makes a difference? What if everyone ALWAYS thought 'I don't wanna do X right now'? If I give myself permission not to do X right now, what exactly does that say about me? Ugh, fine, I'll do X."

"Rationally, I know there is no ethical consumption under capitalism and no matter where you buy your stuff you're contributing to exploitation... but boy do I feel shitty buying from this brand anyway."

"God, I am literally the worst person to ever exist. Wait, that's such a self-centered thought. Who's so arrogant as to believe they're important enough to be the worst person ever? God, I'm the worst. Wait... [repeat ad infinitum]"

"Someone's treating me badly! I'm angry! ... But fuck, I probably deserve it. I have no right to be angry."

The most 1 thing I've ever read lol.

Evidence: I've been to 20+ protests over the past couple years and joined a local political organization, driven in large part by that rage at injustice I mentioned. Being at a protest is basically the only time the feeling that I'm not doing enough goes away. I've tried repeatedly to kill myself partly out of the feeling that I'm a terrible person who only hurts the people around me and the world would be better off without me in it. (Don't worry about me, I'm better now.) I still can't help blaming myself for several of the bad things that have happened to me, even though others have told me they're not 100% my fault.

Oh my god, that's level of self-judgment is not a good thing. It's good to be good, but to judge yourself so harsh is not very good, isn't it? This is 1 internal thought. Probably 1w9 (a more internal and detached 1s).

Why I might not be a 1: I really do think I'm a 1, but there are a few things that make me unusual for a 1. I'm not organized or hardworking, and I'm very anti-hierarchical. I'm actually a little bit of a hedonist, even though I kind of hate myself for it--or at least for my propensity to do pleasurable things over important things. Do note that a lot of this can be chalked up to executive dysfunction, as I have a menagerie of mental illnesses.

Have you watched Legend of Korra? The main antagonist in 3rd season is INFJ 1w9 so/sp, he is an anarchist. This can relate to having low Te as well. Low Te isn't very good at forcing yourself to do important things (over what I want to do). Although you feel more like EFP than IFP. Your Te is pretty strong. Hedonism can come from experience and worldview (or having reactive enneagram - like 4 or 6).

Why I'm probably not an 8: I'm not especially controlling of other people. While I do like to be the dominant one in romantic relationships, I'm still pretty laid back as dominant people go. I take leadership positions in groups only if no one else is up to it. My attitude toward people is basically "as long as you're not hurting anyone, you can do what you want." I don't tend to force anything on anyone. No one has ever described me as domineering.

That is more like 9-wing description to me. My ENTJ 1w9 aunt is the same. "Do what you want, as long as you are doing good" and she never forces judgment on other people or try to change them. She directs all those anger and judgment on herself. Which is Fi + 1w9 thing.

To give you a sense of having 8 influence. I don't mind forcing myself on other people if it serves my purpose. People can do what they want, but if they get in my way, I'll obliterate them. I have no qualms about using power on my hand to do what I 'want' even if it's not the most moral thing to do. Leveraging power against people.

Like, my aunt is managing my grandpa's salary. I told her it's her money now, she holds the power and he couldn't do anything if she decides to take it. Why indulges him (giving him money, even if he can't use it. Let him gamble some away for no reason). She told me it's 'bad' to take his money as her own, because it's not hers. He has the right for his money. If I'm in her situation, I'll take it as my own because power is 'in my hand' now. Might makes right, if you have power, you are right. If you don't you are wrong. That is 8 rejection-assertive energy unlike 1 frustration-superego energy.

Why I might be an 8: I have a big thing for protecting the weak and defending the innocent. I hate to be controlled or pushed around. I fear betrayal.

That is more like so/sp instinct. We are protectors. All gut types are concerned with autonomy. So we hate to be pushed around at all cost. And fear of betrayal might relate to your personal experience somehow?

Why I'm probably not a 9: I don't care about keeping the peace--at least not at the expense of doing the right thing. I'll pick fights and shake things up if I feel like something unjust is happening or someone is in the wrong.

That is 9 being subservient to 1. However, you still don't show 2-wing 'meddling' and 'helpfulness'. Your anger is directed inward, the way 1w9s usually are. The question is, do you numb yourself to outside influence when people challenge you. Or do you feel compelling need to 'change' them.

Why I might be a 9: I've been described as chill by people who haven't seen how fiery I get? I dunno, I'm having trouble coming up with anything for this one. I hate arguing with people I care about? But I do it anyway so lmao.

Again, it's 9-wing. A 2-wing wouldn't appear chill in any way. Imagine Hermione. Is she chill? No.

Now onto my tritype. I guess I'll start with the head types.

Arguments for 5: I admit this is one of the least likely types for me to have, but I'm including it anyway for the sake of not ruling anything out. The very fact that I'm doing so is a little 5ish, I think. I've been called intellectual by others, and I like high-minded theories and conceptual bullshit. I do stuff like read political theory for fun. I like gathering information. I tested as a 5 several years ago, when I was still living in my Bird models. I greatly fear being useless and dislike being incompetent.

Nope, not a 5.

Arguments against 5: My 5-ness is more based on stereotypes than actual motivations. I'm rash and impulsive, and things tend to go better for me when I act quickly and decisively. Admittedly sometimes I get too caught up in planning and never actually do the thing, but I'm just as likely to dive into something completely unprepared and hope it works out. I am also a very emotional person and fairly open about my feelings, or at least the positive ones.

5 fix can be quick and decisive. But what concerns 5 fix is autonomy, secrecy and detachment. 5 can detach themselves to look at things as it is and 5 fixers are almost always concerned with autonomy as a rejection type. (I have 6w5 second fix, and I'm very secretive and independent. Never ask for help unless it's on my term).

Arguments for 6: I've had people tell me I have 6 somewhere in my tritype before. I'm fiercely loyal to both my loved ones and my beliefs. If someone I used to be friends with but haven't seen in years suddenly needed my help, I would drop everything to help them. I am very afraid of being abandoned. I have a tendency to be brutally honest about both my flaws and beliefs early on in relationships so that people I won't work out with will leave immediately rather than letting me get attached before leaving, which strikes me as a very counterphobic thing to do. I have generalized anxiety disorder. I often feel like a mess of contradictions. I am a revolutionary socialist, which goes along with 6's rebellious tendencies quite nicely.

That is ... a very strong 6-fix argument. Yep!

Arguments against 6: To be honest, I'm having trouble coming up with any, except that something else might fit better. The only reason I don't consider 6 to be my primary Enneagram type is that the description of 1 calls me out even harder.

You could be a 6. But you have to ask yourself. Are you driven by anger or fear. If you are driven by anger first, then you are 1w9.

Arguments for 7: I'm very pleasure-seeking. I like to feel good, and I do all sorts of things to that end. My biggest vice is escapism of any sort, whether that be by reading a good book or getting high. I'm prone to procrastinating on things that are important but not pleasant (though I procrastinate on things I enjoy too, so who knows). When stressed and sick of trying to power through it, I tend to lose myself in fun things so I forget about the stress (though it's always there at the back of my mind). I'm bold, impulsive, undisciplined, and scatterbrained. I don't take most things too seriously and have a good sense of humor.

6w7/7w6 sounds like your second wing. Ask yourself whether your head fix is driven by avoidance or by overthinking.

Arguments against 7: I'm not especially upbeat and have pretty low energy despite (or because of?) my active mind. I'm willing to endure a significant amount of pain for higher ideals--see the fear, anger, and chaos I endure at protests. I'm kind of a klutz, and 7s apparently have a reputation for being good with their bodies. (Do note that I have something called nonverbal learning disorder which fucks with my ability to use spatial reasoning, so that may have something to do with why.) Many of my 7 traits could also be explained by my ADHD.

7s are not good at their body in tandem. It is that many 7s are Se-dom. Se-doms are great at their body. Even if you have disorders, if you have 7-fix, you will still see it.

Now, the heart types.

Arguments for 2: I want very badly to be loved. I do good things mostly because I know they are good things to do, but part of me does hope I'll be loved in return for them too. I try to be helpful, generous, and kind to others. I like to be needed. I consider myself a very caring person.

Sounds like 2-wing to me.

Arguments against 2: I have higher priorities than being loved. I'd rather do the right thing and be hated for it than be loved for doing the wrong thing. I've heard that 2s feel they deserve love, and I often feel I don't deserve love at all.

2s feel they don't deserve love. That's why they are helpful. They reject the need to feel loved in favor of loving others. 2s are rejection type, do you have this feeling of rejection (and arrogance that you know what is best for everyone and you must guide them)?

Arguments for 3: If I'm not working on something, I feel like I'm being lazy. (I almost always feel like I'm being lazy.) I beat myself up for not doing enough. I used to associate my academic success with my self-worth, and still do to some extent. I often feel like I have to earn love by being good at stuff.

That is 3 fix to the T. If you are 2 fix, you will have an air of 'I know the way you must follow and you must do as I suggest' and 'I'm helpful because that's what I am' 2-wing has this haughty rejection feels to them. You don't.

Arguments against 3: I'm not actually very success-driven or hardworking. I spend most of my time procrastinating rather than working hard to be seen as worthy like a 3 might. I care nothing for status or appearances, and if I'm making an effort to appear successful when I'm not, it's because something very important and concrete hinges upon my perceived success. I don't care about the traditional definition of success--I just want to be comfortable and contribute something valuable to the world.

I think it's your last fix + social dominant.

Arguments for 4: I initially thought I was a 4 because I felt so called out by the stereotypical image of 4s as moody, withdrawn, ineffectual creative types--that's me to a T. I often feel like there's something wrong with me, like I'm just a worse person than everyone else, like I don't deserve the same basic respect and dignity as other people. I have a strong sense of identity. I struggle to let go of negative feelings.

That is your 1w9 line to 4w3. Enneagram 1 has line to 4 when stress. Strong sense of identity often relates to non-attachment type.

Arguments against 4: I don't give a flying fuck about being special or unique. I'd rather be a carbon copy of a good person than a unique but less good person. I don't daydream about attracting a rescuer--I daydream about being the rescuer. I don't value pain the way 4s seem to. I don't feel like I'm uniquely better than anyone. I may have a strong sense of identity, but I don't feel like I NEED a strong sense of identity, per se.

Not a 4, yeah.

I hope that's something like what you wanted! I didn't include as much in the way of evidence and internal thoughts as I'd have liked to, but considering how much I wrote, writing even more seemed kind of unreasonable. If you have any questions for me or want more thoughts/evidence, don't hesitate to ask!

Phew! That's quite a lot to take in. But from what I see (I think you provide solid evidence for each fix, nice job!) you might be 1w9 so/sp with 6w7 and 3w2 fix. 6w7 could be 7w6 though I think 7 is subservient to 6 in this case. I think you are 1w9 mostly because you don't have 2-ish intrusive feels to you. (Think of how Hermione thinks it's her job to monitor the boys, that's 2-wing).

#submission #ask answers

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