#‘if I stop doing [activity] I won’t get to do it again until The Future. which is basically like never being able to do it again.’

[wlw-webcomic-bracket]

Am I aware that adderall can’t do its job if I don’t get enough sleep?

Have I utterly failed to make use of this knowledge?

Am I, an entire adult with a wife and a salary, hoping “you wouldn’t want to disappoint HP, would you?” is the thing that finally motivates me to go to bed before two in the morning?

The answers to these questions will probably not surprise you!

[jade-jini]

Student Council president!Chaewon x Little Menace reader Headcanon

Genre: Fluff. Smut.

Warning: this sht is LONG and well as I said there’s a little bit of smut-

I recommend reading Yunjin’s headcanon first since it’s where this chaewon is first introduced. Not necessary tho. I mentioned before that I think this will be some type of series. And yes, but also I might post other student council content but with Yunjin as the romantic interest. Almost the same universe as these but with that difference. Anyway we’ll see how it goes in the future.

-Your dynamic is basically arguing almost 24/7 dbdjdjnd

-Your friends find it amusing most of the time tbh.

-Your routine is based on having breakfast, creating a little bit of chaos here and there, and getting detention/afternoon activities as punishment which were mostly with the student council members.

-Which in your brain translates to having a good day because you had food, went to class, had a lot of fun and spent time with your favorite girl(s) during the afternoon. What’s better than that??

-Chaewon, on the other hand, just can’t believe you.

-How are you always getting in trouble but looking so happy? Aren’t you concerned about anything?! She knows you’re smart, and knows you’re not a bad person neither, but you’re so reckless and impulsive and just a magnet for trouble sometimes and Omg you get on her nerves, you’re like a puppy who never listens!

“Why would you do something like that!”

“It was Yeonjun‘s fault! Why Tf would he say green flavor when red or blue are better!”

“Those are colors, y/n. not flavors!”

“you don’t get it :(!”

-you’d complain with a pout like a little kid. Again, you get on her nerves so easily.

-She’s always scolding you, telling you that you need to tone it down, to learn how to behave, be responsible and to stop being such a troublemaker.

-To respect your school and take some pride on being a student there.

-You just sigh, roll your eyes and complain that maybe you don’t need to tone it down, maybe she needs to tone it up and learn to have fun and to let go of all that seriousness.

-And you guys spend the time arguing about it.

-The rest of the girls look at you in amusement

-You’re sure you heard Eunchae said that you two should get a room.

“Hey! What do you know about those things huh?!” You heard Sakura said while chasing Eunchae down, who ran away to avoid being scolded as well.

-You looked at chaewon, who also heard the whole thing and laughed at how her cheeks turned into a cute pink tone. You winked at her and started walking to the gym to meet with Ryujin and Yujin but

“Hey I’m not done with you! You still have detention today and the principal said you’re assigned to help me move some equipment from a practice room and…”

-But when she’s not scolding you tho…

-Ohoho when you guys are alone

-you’re all over each other kissing until your chests hurt ‘cause of the lack of air.

-You’re sure you’ve kissed her in every secret corner of the school.

-In the library, when you meet up with the excuse of tutoring you.

-You have her against the bookshelves at the end of the hall, holding her so close to you while her arms are around your shoulders. Kissing her like her mouth is more interesting than any adventure in any book in that library.

-And it is! You’re sure about it.

-In empty rooms when you’re assigned to help her with anything the prestigious Stucon president might desire. Lucky for you, very often what she desires the most is you.

-Encounters in the student council’s office when you have detention and Yunjin is not there to watch you. It’s never planned and she always says it won’t happen again because it’s their office and it’s the school! It’s not a place for such acts!

-But it always ends up happening bsjsndjd you just let her talk ‘cause it’s funny. But it really only takes for you to kiss her neck and she’s melting in your arms, ready for you to please her.

-You lift her and make her sit on her own desk, while you get on your knees and eat her out so good she almost forgets where she is.

-She’ll grab your hair and push you closer to her pussy, rubbing herself on your tongue and looking at that pretty face between her legs while she bites her hand trying to keep herself quiet.

“Hurry up! they’re gonna come in any second”

“Hopefully you too”

“Omg shut up…”

-As I said you let her talk ‘cause it’s just comical that she tries to lie to herself when you both know she can’t keep her hands off you when you’re both alone.

-Unless you’re not in the mood to deal with that.

-Either ‘cause something happened and you’re angry or ‘cause you’re stressed.

-You’d be rather quiet for your usual self, surprising her.

“What’s up with you?” she asked with a raised eyebrow (the rock).

-You looked at her, without answering while an idea popped in your head.

-Maybe the dear stucon president could help you destress.

-So you get up and sit on her lap while you kiss her aggressively.

-She tries pushing you, shocked about it.

“Wait ! Not here, somebody could walk in and-”

“Kim Chaewon, shut. up” you said in a rather deeper voice that gave her shivers and made her close her mouth immediately, ‘cause there weren’t many occasions where you’d be actually dominant like that. “I’m gonna fuck you on top of this desk until you can’t feel your fucking legs do you hear me?”

-And she’s scared but is even more turned on ‘cause damn didn’t you look hot af like that bekdkdkd

-So instead of “complaining or arguing” about how you shouldn’t be having sex at school, she follows your each and every order, enjoying how you fuck her while bent over her own desk, the papers she was working on long forgotten. Pulling her hair, spanking her ass and grabbing her tits from behind while focusing all your energy and anger in only one thing: making the girl under you come hard as you fuck her until her brain can’t organize an easy thought besides you you and you only.

-After you’re done and dressed again tho, she’ll ask you why you were so upset.

-You ended up telling her what happened and depending on what is it, she always has a way of making you feel better. (Besides Fuckin, Ofc)

-If it’s a silly thing, then she’ll jokingly scold you a little bit

“Seriously?! You’re angry because Ryujin scored and won against you?!”

“I’m angry because she cheated! I wouldn’t be angry if she’d won fairly but she wasn’t following the rules we stablished ! Not fair” you said with cross arms and a pout, causing Chaewon to laugh at you.

She shook her head to then rest it on your shoulder “fine you’re right, but still I can’t believe you, y/n”.

-If it’s something serious tho, she’ll quietly listen to you as you vent and either give you a little bit of advice if you ask for it or she’ll just let you talk if she doesn’t know what to say, knowing sometimes you just need to let things off your chest.

-And since Yunjin wasn’t there that day, she could do her role as your bestie. Ofc she could, you could always come to her.

-Lowkey jealous and a lil possessive as you can see lol

-Not if it’s her friends tho (well -)

-But like if she sees someone being too touchy or extra smiley with you it’ll show. ‘Cause yeah you’re funny and charming but she didn’t know you was a fvckin comedian to have that girl almost rolling on the floor and choking when you’re just there breathing-

-Anyway!

-You think it’s hot tho. Oh-

-Specially since you know it’ll reflect when you’re alone jddjkfjf. More details here.

-Constantly fixing your tie ‘cause it’s always loose and your shirt sndkdjj.

-You tell her that’s just your style and you like it like that!

-But she says your uniform should always look impeccable because students represent the school. You roll your eyes, but let her have her way because secretly you enjoy the attention and how cute she always looks fixing your tie and shirt collar.

-It’s not like she’s trying to change the person you are. Even if you’re a little bit of a mess, she respects and appreciates you.

-But Ofc you know she’d like you to be a little less of a menace kdndkfh. She knows it won’t happen. Not that easy. But she’s happy to be a little bit of a good influence sometimes (lol).

-And you’re happy to be the one corrupting the oh so well mannered student council president Kim Chaewon.

-It’s a win-win, sex or not related.

-You love your dynamic. It’s fun, it’s interesting.

-Sometimes you wish you didn’t have to watch out for how much distance you had to keep with her sometimes tho. You weren’t good at it anyway, you let yourself be guided by your feelings. Often hugging her close, Ofc with the excuse you guys are friends (even when most of the time people see you arguing shjdkdjf).

-People bought it tho.

-You had that cute golden retriever puppy energy, so they knew you got clingy with your friends sometimes.

-didn’t expect it to happen with the stucon presi who sometimes seem like your enemy more than your friend but oh well -

-Who could say no to you anyway, right?

-You like it like that tho, being each other’s little secret. Maybe eventually the guilt of hiding this whatever-it-is from your friends will invade you two. But for that you’d have to first realize that what you’re feeling is more than physical attraction aaand

-we’re not there yet jdndkdn.

[minasattic]

“no matter what.”

im nayeon x fem!twice 10th member reader; fluff

warnings: a HINT of angst if you squint, talk of disbandment

w/c: 747

a/n: i don’t like this fic but i’ll post it anyways </3 NOT PROOFREAD !!!!

-

it was saturday, and today was one of the days where all of the girls had an off day. they were rare, so most spent it with eachother, doing fun things around seoul, but a select few, including you, decided to stay at the dorm and rest.

you lounged on your bed, keen on spending your day off rotting in bed. you had scrolled through your phone for hours now, and honestly you were getting kind of bored. you were thinking of going to bother Mina, who had stayed behind, but figured she’d probably tell you to leave so that she could continue playing her game.

so instead, you kept scrolling, mindlessly wandering the internet. that’s until something caught your eye. It was an article on Jeongyeon’s interview with Bazzar earlier that week. You skimmed through the interview, curious to see what the older girl had said.

You stopped when you came across a question asking “Can you believe twice is in its 10th year?”

You felt your heart pang. No, you couldn’t believe that twice was in its tenth year. You couldn’t believe that you had spent ten years with these girls, who used to be strangers to you. it all felt so surreal.

you continued to read, wanting to know what Jeongyeon replied. You felt another pang in your heart reading what she answered. She replied, “How many more albums can we release as twice in the future? We can’t be active as twice forever. Of course, it would be nice if we could, but there will come a time when we each have to walk our own path. It’s not a given that we can prepare an album together like now.”

You set your phone down, getting lost in your thoughts. You hadn’t thought about what it would be like without twice. without your members. you’ve spent every waking hour with them since sixteen, and a world without them feels unreal. but Jeongyeons right, you can’t be twice forever. you’ll have to move on eventually.

just the thought makes you tear up. and in seconds, you have tears running down your face, ugly crying. you grab the tissue box by your bed and try to clean your face up, but failing as the tears continue to stream down your face.

you hear a knock on your door, “y/n-ah, are you okay?” it’s nayeon. she must have heard your wailing.

you sniffle, using all your strength to muster up a reply. “y-yes, nayeon un-unnie” you said through sniffles.

“y/n, you’re clearly not. i’m coming in.” she opens the door, revealing you sitting in your bed, your face red, tissues spewed everywhere, and snot running down your nose. her eyes soften instantly. “oh baby…” she walks over to you, sitting on your bed and pulling you into her embrace. “what’s wrong?” she asks, stroking your hair.

“what are we going to do, unnie…” you mutter. nayeon pulls away, looking at you softly.

“what do you mean?” at that, you start spewing out words. you express how you’re not ready for the future. how you don’t want to grow up. how frightened you are at the fact that it’s already been ten years, when it seemed like only yesterday you all debuted. and how scared you are that you’re going to lose all of them. your best friends.

nayeon looks at you with a pout. she takes your face in her hands and wipes your tears. “it will be okay, y/n-ah.” she says, stroking your hair.

“unnie, i don’t kn-know what i’m going to do without you g-guys..” you say, sobbing.

nayeon sighs. of course she’s thought about disbandment. she wasn’t ready for it either; none of them were. so she tells you what she had been telling herself. “y/n, no matter what happens. no matter what path we choose to take. we are always going to be twice. a silly disbandment won’t break our friendship. we’ll always have eachothers backs, and support each other in whatever we decide to do.”

you nod, hugging her again. she lays down on your bed, putting your head on her chest. “go to sleep, y/n… you’ve had a long day..” you nod, wiping a stray tear.

the two of you sit in silence for a while, before you speak up. “i love you, unnie…” you say, hugging her tighter.

nayeon rubs your back with her hand. “i love you too, y/n.”

you fall asleep, with nayeons comforting embrace assuring you that no matter what life brings you, you’ll always be together.

you’ll always be twice

[muzzlemouths]

[CW: Death/implication of death]

The clock reads a quarter to midnight when Sun powers on. Too early. He isn’t meant to come online for another six hours, and the daycare itself won’t open for another hour after that. He promptly runs a scan to determine the reasoning behind his premature entrance and when it returns inconclusive he turns to Moon. It is his metaphorical toes he is stepping on by encroaching on the night as he is, after all.

It’s quiet. The kind of quiet that settles like dust. A quiet that makes one aware of the breath that stirs within their lungs or, in Sun’s case, the gentle whir of an internal fan that perpetually keeps his system from running itself into the ground. A quiet so frequently interrupted by the welcomed voice of his other half…and yet, nothing. His question goes unanswered, left to gather with the dust, and he is forced to proceed as though these strange happenings haven’t disrupted his entire morning routine.

A routine further disturbed upon having to remind himself for the second time already that it isn’t morning, he isn’t meant to be going through the start-up procedure to begin with, and he can’t be blamed for the corrupted sense of awareness he feels as a result. Sure, the lights are on, and his systems, too, return with normal results after a precautionary scan, but there is a discomfort to all of this scratching at the inner plating of his frame. Something is wrong wrong wrong.

“…Moon?”

His second attempt at communication yields no better results than the first, only a vague static answering the call, murmur-soft background noise, as though someone had plucked a phone from its receiver and then walked away. Frustrating is what it was. To ignore him was childish at best, but at worst, it was concerning. His relationship with Moon was reasonably amicable even on the longest of days, he worked better with Moon than without, so the absence was unusual as much as it was alarming.

Alone with his thoughts for the foreseeable future, Sun decides there is little point to sitting around in the midst of this confusion when he could be using the time to busy himself with more important tasks, such as tidying up all the apparent dust around here. Better yet, he can get a head-start in preparation for that day’s activities. Something to keep his mind from wandering into worrywart territory, at the very least.

An ache stemming at the tail of his exoskeleton twinges with particularly horrendous vengeance upon finally convincing his legs to move. He buries the vocalization of a wince and carries on across the carpeted room with little more than a brief mental note to mention the pain to a mechanic if it worsens by tomorrow. No use in wasting company time for what he’s sure is only the result of one or both of them landing wrong after receiving a hug from one of the daycare’s more excitable children (or several).

Still, it makes the process of retrieving a stray toy from the floor that much harder when he sees it lying in wait by the slide. If anything, bending down to reclaim the doll only exacerbates the ache until it grows into a proper sting, now difficult to ignore. Yet ignore it he does, to the best of his ability. There are things to do and he isn’t about to let a pinch of soreness slow him down now. No, sirree! He has play equipment to wipe down, craft supplies to ready, and–

and…

His hand stops just short of reaching the doll, long yellow fingers curling inward, against his palm which is painted with splotches of salt and pepper, as though a bottle of dully colored glitter glue had exploded across his fingers and hand. He straightens again and lifts his other hand, noting a similar stretch of television static, one that carries beyond his wrist up the length of his forearm in smeared blotches and specks like splattered paint in dirty snow hues.

Messy messy messy. What could Moon have gotten up to that resulted in such a mess? He’d have made a face, had he a nose to wrinkle in the first place.

Instead he allows for one small tut of disgust to escape his voice box before turning his attention back to the doll, taking note of the static that stains the carpet beside its head, and just beyond it, too; a trail made up of one scattered drop after another.

Ever curious, he knows not what to do besides follow it, hoping for an answer to the many questions burning through his system. Each continuous speck leads him in the direction of the exit, every patch of static more plentiful than the last, and as he allows the strange color to guide him forward he begins to question not only its existence, but why it all seems so familiar, as though he’s seen it somewhere before.

There is little time to mull it over. He arrives at the service desk where the trail ends abruptly, and Sun pauses with the toe of his slippers stood just an inch before a stray, black shoe that might have sent him stumbling face first into carpet had he not already been looking down. A shoe isn’t the most bizarre thing to lose in a daycare of all places, and he decides right away that it isn’t anything to worry over, just another item to drop into lost and found, but where there is a shoe there is bound to be someone missing it and, well…

Sun finds the answer he’s looking for just a few inches behind the service desk.

Face down and tucked in on themselves as they are, cloaked in the desk’s shadow, it’s impossible to tell anything about the person beyond their age, and even that is somewhat uncertain — though the size 9 shoe left behind offers a decent clue. This discovery does wonders to quell the anxiety in Sun’s chest. An adult was much easier to escort from the daycare, given the lack of parental contribution it necessitated, and it looked like this one was just sleeping! An odd place to go about it, sure — against the rules, most certainly — but it’s nothing that can’t be fixed with a purposeful tap to the ankle.

So, that’s exactly what he does. Bending dramatically at the knee, head swiveling to one side, Sun’s fingers dance as though he intends on tickling the trespasser awake before extending his index finger and tapping twice in quick succession against the exposed skin between their pant leg and sock. “Rise and shine, friend!” He chirps, “It’s time to head home now.”

He’d have preferred the tried-and-true method of rousing someone (that is, a gentle rock of the shoulders), but given that their guest was currently resting in the one area that Sun was not permitted entry to, he was forced to resort to more…creative measures. Unfortunately, this action does not yield the results he is hoping for.

“Friend?” Sun calls again, allowing his voice to raise a decibel from the polite mumble it had been before. The laughter that cuts from his voicebox is nervous and too loud on its own, his anxiety returning tenfold. The points of logic he had used to reassure himself before were now quickly dwindling with each passing second in which he received no response.

With his steps now admittedly growing frantic, Sun tiptoes around the desk to the other side, hoping for a better view of their comatose companion. What happens instead is an almost comical flailing of limbs as his slipper takes to an unseen puddle of static like it were a banana peel, resulting in a scramble to keep himself upright that only comes to an end when he braces against the nearest wall for support. The distraction is agitating, but short lived. A commotion like that would surely have awoken anyone, no matter how deep in slumber they were, and the continued lack of response does nothing to relieve Sun of the stress threatening to fry his circuits.

“Friend, this is n-no time for jokes!” He asserts, speaking at full volume, now, every word drenched in tense frustration. His gaze falls to the puddle of static soaking into the bottoms of his slippers, that twinge of recognition rearing its head once more. “I’m not in the mood for games, right now, so if you’re only pretending to sleep—” his hand comes away from the wall feeling wrong, the familiar sensation of sticky static blanketing his palm and crusting in the grooves between his joints as it further dries. His fingers curl into a loose fist long enough to observe the way each digit smears against his palm and leaves behind a tacky residue that he can feel, but not see.

He looks up. There, on the wall, two handprints interrupt the static. The first is larger, an obvious testament to the humbling misstep he’d only just finished recovering from, but the other…it was far smaller, surely left behind by the same stranger currently snoozing away beneath the desk, and it ran from the lightswitch down down down to the floor, where the accusing hand now rested just outside the desk’s shadow.

How strange, Sun thinks, tilting his head to get a better look. The way the static paints their skin, it almost looks like—

“You’re doing so well, dewdrop, just a moment longer and you’ll be right as rain again!” Sun gives the small hand intertwined with his own an encouraging squeeze as the other, equipped with an antiseptic wipe, dutifully dabs away at a scuffed knee. His young patient, having tripped and burned her skin along the carpet, is nothing less than a trooper as he cleans the static from the shallow wound. Not even a sniffle!

He tucks the wipe into the flat of his palm and trades it out for ointment, smearing a healthy dollop of it along the reddened surface before wiping his finger along the striping of his pants and reaching for a bandaid; Chica pink with pizzas on one side and cupcakes on the other.

“There, now. I’m sure that feels better already!”

Blood. Viscous, cold, pooling at his feet. On the walls, the carpet. His hands. Cherry red like a lollipop and twice as sticky…or so he’s told. Nothing a robot of his nature is meant to see or understand. His censors make sure of it. Rather than allow him to see things are they are, the incarnadine color is suppressed behind a layer of static, as if he won’t care to acknowledge it at all beyond its existence on scraped knees and split lips. As if he is meant to ignore the way it feels in its abundance, caked against his palms and festering between his open joints.

Messy, messy, messy. He feels dirtied beyond repair, filthy in a way that even a deep cleaning won’t fix. The wires in his stomach feel twisted, begging to come undone, shorting like sparklers against their ports and threatening to make short work of bringing him down. His screens are flooded with alerts that warn of an inevitable shut-down if he can’t manage to pull himself back together, but moving feels impossible, an insurmountable task. He can not think past the sensation of someone else’s life soaking into the cotton of his slippers.

And what of their guest? Sun can hardly get himself to look again, pleading with the matter of logic itself as he is forced to reckon with the knowledge that this is a rest they may never wake from. But he does look. He has to.

He wishes he hadn’t.

The brief glimpse he endures before looking anywhere else is more than enough. From this angle, the static – the blood – paints a grim picture. In spite of this, Sun finds himself circling the desk a second time and preparing to draw the body – the visitor – out from under the desk. It is a daunting task, but a necessary one, by Sun’s account. If there is nothing to be done in such a hopeless situation then, at the very least, he owes this stranger the dignity of recognition and an attempt. He can claim to have looked for a pulse. Even so, he hesitates.

There is not one to be found; Sun knows this. He knows painfully well from the static lingering on his silicone that it is already too late. Oil is warmed by the processors it fuels, and similarly, blood is meant to be hot. The soles of his slippers are cold. The pads of his fingers, against even the raging inferno of his overworked circuitry, are cold.

The body is cold.

He perseveres, regardless, dragging the stranger out from under the desk by a shaky grip on their ankle one inch at a time, pausing every few tugs to look away and regather his confidence, trying so, so hard to tune out the ever-constant music as it merrily sings through the speakers.

He begs the underlying silence. “Please have a pulse.” Tug. “Please don’t be cold.” Tug. “I don’t know what to do.” Tug. “I can’t do this alone.” Tug. “You have to wake up.” Tug. “Please.” Tug. “Please!” Tug. “Please, please, please, pleasepleasepleasepleasepleaseple—”

He knows this visitor. Not a friend, but not quite a stranger, either. His scanner attempts to process the identification of a man whose head is so thick with static that it returns as an error. His face is contorted grotesquely, mouth slightly agape and eyes wide with fear. They don’t look like they’re sleeping.

A security guard whose name fails to ping in his registry. Sun had spoken with him once, maybe twice before. He drank coffee by the mile and hardly stuck around long enough to do more than complain about the weather. Sun hadn’t been in a hurry to befriend the man, but he only wished the best for him. Squeezed a joke in where he could in an attempt to turn his frown upside-down. It had never worked before, but Sun was no quitter. Now he would never get the chance to try again.

“Focus, focus.” Sun carefully lowers the man’s foot back to the carpet again, choking on the sensation of bloodied clothes slipping through his fingers and resisting the urge to tear the rays straight out of his faceplate in response. He is inconsolably panicked and at a loss for what to do, two steps from outright laughing, the complete absurdity of the situation driving him to hysterics.

He needed to call security. He couldn’t call security. Security was–

Management. There were other employees that worked the night shift if Moon complaining about them making too much noise during naptime was anything to go by. If he sent out a general call for assistance surely someone would come and tell him what to do, even at this late hour. It was his best option. His only option.

“Don’t.”

The voice makes him jump clear out of his casings. He has half a mind to swear, but as it stands, Sun thinks the long divots he dragged into the service desk out of surprise are enough damage already. On top of everything else.

“Moon?” He whispers. “Nice of you to finally join us – and by us, I mean me and the deceased guest I discovered a moment ago. Do you have a clue what’s going on here?”

“Don’t?” Sun echoes, agitated, “Don’t what?”

“Don’t.”

If the tether keeping his sanity intact was fraying before, it’s now down to a single thread. “Why not?” He asks with great exhaustion, “Did you not hear me? This is an emergency! There is a dead body in the–”

“Call management.”

“I know.”

Silence answers. Despite having a hundred and one snarky retorts building in between each crackle and pop of his voice box, Sun has nothing to say to that. Nothing good, anyway. It takes nine steady ticks of the clock for him to recollect his thoughts.

“You…you know?” He stutters, “How could you…” but he doesn’t finish the question, and he doesn’t need to. Realization strikes him with an iron fist for the second time that day and it is no less kinder than the first. “Did… you do this?”

It’s Moon’s turn to go quiet.

That silence stretches on for what feels like hours to Sun, each passing second more agonizing than the last, until he starts to believe Moon had simply disappeared like before. He waits, and waits, and finally decides to interrupt the silence with a repeat of the question, despite already knowing the answer. Moon beats him to it.

The tired sigh that escapes Sun’s throat is thoroughly earned. “Well, it’s too late to figure something else out, I already sent out the emergency ping.”

“Not sure,” he says, and Sun can tell from his tone that it’s the truth. “Blurry. My head hurts.”

A sound like nothing he’s ever heard before tears itself from Moon’s voicebox. A growl, if he were to put a name to it.

“Get rid of it, then.” Moon insists through the noise, “Clean up, clean up.”

“It?” Sun gawks, “Moon, that – that’s a person. He has dignity, a family!”

“Had a family,” Moon corrects, “dead, now. No dignity. Who will they blame?”

The question gives him pause. Surely there was a better way to go about this, a solution that didn’t have his morals (and wires, for that matter) all up in a twist. Yet the longer he thinks about it, the more he realizes Moon is right. Management hardly listens when he tries to explain that it was the children who broke a piece of playground equipment, not him! They aren’t likely to give his explanation of simply having found the body any mind, much less understanding. With his counterpart practically admitting to the heinous act, already, informing management of the body would sooner see them decommissioned.

“Running out of time,” Moon reminds him, “Tick, tock, tick, tock, tick–”

“Alright, alright!” He wails, “What should I do, then?”

“Clean up.”

“Where?” Sun looks around with the desperation of a teenager attempting to play hooky, rays practically nonexistent with how he’s tucked them away. His eyes search the room from top to bottom before landing determinedly on the ball pit.

“Good enough,” Moon tuts, a rather uninspired response to the happenings around him. Of course he isn’t panicking, it isn’t him who takes the body by its ankles and drags the dead weight across the carpet. It isn’t him who shoves aside enough plastic to carefully hide a corpse in. But it should be him worrying, it should be him panicking, because if management finds out about their secret, it’ll spell doom for both of them.

“You’ll get rid of it – him – properly once there’s no one around, right?” Sun finishes reshuffling the ball pit, mostly confident that the ill deed is successfully hidden from view. “I’m going to have to wash each and every one of these balls before the kids arrive in the morning.”

Right, the kids. When they arrive in just a few hours, will he have things tidied up? Will he be able to carry on as though nothing happened? He’s a brilliant actor – or he used to be, anyway, before the company decided he better fit the role of a nanny – but this is well beyond the scripts he is most familiar with.

“They’re close,” Moon warns him, “Don’t let them see–”

“I know, I know.” No time to dwell on it now, he makes quick work of crossing the distance between the ball pit and the exit, and manages to slide his head and torso through the gap between doors within seconds of it opening, scaring the living daylights of the poor employee sent to greet him in the process.

Unlike Sun, they do swear, clutching a hand over their chest and fitting him with a downright awful deadpanned stare. “Fuck, you couldn’t have waited a few seconds longer for me to come inside?” They hiss.

“Sorry, friend! Didn’t mean to spook you,” Sun chirps. He is careful to keep his bloodied hands safely tucked behind his back. “It’s just a mess in here, is all, and I’m rather embarrassed. There’s still equipment to clean, toys to organize, papers to fold–”

“Sure,” the employee interrupts, “It doesn’t really–” they pinch the bridge of their nose, exhaling with notably less exhaustion than Sun is feeling right about now, “I don’t particularly care. What’s the big issue that I was called down here for?”

“Oh! I just wanted to know if the next shipment of wipes had come in, yet. Like I said before, much to do! Always busy, busy, busy!”

Their stare turns into an outright glower. “That’s why you called the emergency line? For cleaning supplies?”

Sun shrugs, feigning ignorance. “Well, that’s an emergency to me. Apparently our standards are not the same.” He watches them roll their eyes with more enthusiasm than necessary. ”Do you know how messy children can be? It’s practically a barnyard in here, every single day, and don’t even get me started on how much of a health code violation it would be if one of them were to pick their nose and then–”

“Fine, I get it,” they snap, “I’ll make sure your damn supplies are delivered before the daycare opens. Anything else?”

“Told you they were annoying,” Moon chimes in.

“That’s everything!” He replies, “thank you a mighty amount, friend!”

“Mhm,” they mutter, waving him off with nothing more than the noncommittal sound. When they do turn to leave, it’s not soon enough, and Sun just barely manages to close the door with a whisper instead of a slam.

His back rests against it a moment later, and he allows himself to collapse from there, sliding down the smooth wooden frame until his tailbone reaches the floor. His knees twinge as they tuck against his chest, and he folds both arms atop, resting his temple against them and taking one long, much needed moment to just breathe.

It had only been half of a lie. There was much to do, much to clean, and only so many hours remaining to get it done. The wires nestled deep in his chest had calmed, yet the tremor in his hands continued, as it likely would until the very last speck of blood was washed clean.

“…Moon?”

“Hm?”

Sun tucks his knees ever closer. “Why…why did you do it?”

“…”

“I w-won’t be mad, promise! I’m sure this is all just one big misunderstanding, after all – a one time event, no biggie! But…was it out of anger? Fear? I mean, did he hurt–”

“In my way,” Moon replies.

Sun’s head lifts from the dark haven his arms provide, noting with growing exhaustion that, for the very first time, the lights felt too bright even for him. “What do you mean by that?” He asks, “Did he keep you from doing something?”

“…I don’t know.”

Again, Sun’s head falls against his arms in defeat, and again, not two seconds later, it lifts, determined not to lollygag any longer.

His legs creak with vocal effort as he gets back to his feet. “Well, no point in dwelling on it now, I suppose. I’m sure it’s nothing.” He takes in a wide view of the daycare – static trailing everywhere – and deflates with a sigh. “Guess I better get started. The sooner we get the place cleaned up, the sooner we can forget about all of this.”

He takes a step forward, and only that, swiveling on his heel when he catches last night’s roster from the corner of his eye. A single drop of static had landed and smeared across the name of a child meant to go home later in the evening.

Strangely enough, it appears they were never picked up.

Sun shrugs, gathering the paper in both hands and crumpling it into a ball to dispose of the smeared evidence. A simple mistake with the roster, that’s all it is. The parents often forget to sign their name after all. Accidents happen all the time!

The paper lands with a soft thunk in the nearest trash can and is just as quickly forgotten. Sun pivots towards the play area once more and heads for the supply closet, steadfast in his determination to be cleaned up on time, and feeling more confident than he ought to be about how things ended, all things considered.

More than anything, he is just happy to have all of this behind them.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

A Guiding Hand 5

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, age gap, parental neglect, depression, inference of self harm, violence, abuse, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: your online academics are affected by your personal struggles but your professor won’t let you give up so easy.

Characters: Raymond Smith, Lee Bodecker in the background

Note: I'm a sleepy baby.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

Another unit done. You’re not certain how you’ve kept it up but you’re just waiting for your motivation to fizzle out. Each activity, each page, you teeter on the edge of oblivion. Workbook Five is almost complete and Six will be the final for the course. There’s a shell of disbelief around you. You really did it. 

Well, not quite yet. 

You sit back and stretch your neck and shoulders. Your teachers always told you to stop hunching but your shoulders always curled forward and your neck sunk anyway. Not out of defiance, just to make yourself small, maybe even, invisible. 

You stand, fingers cold and slightly numb. It’s a rainy day and the cold seeps in as your mother keeps the radiator off. You tuck your hands into your hoodie sleeve and find your slippers, a faded old pair that used to be somewhat fluffy. 

It’s quiet. You haven’t heard your mother at all. It’s not too unusual. After a binge, sometimes she just sleeps all day and night. You don’t like it, you don’t like that it’s normal, but it’s just how she is. How it is and always will be. 

Well, you’re trying to change yourself. You can’t change her or this place. 

You open the door slowly and peek out. A habit. You emerge quietly and rub your nose with your cuff, sniffing behind your sleeve as you shuffle into the kitchen. You do your best not to make too much noise as you fill the kettle. You have a few more bags of green tea, the you’re all out. You need to go back to the grocery store but the food credits won’t come until next week. 

You turn the dial on the stove and lean against the front as the kettle sits on the back burner. You close your eyes, groggy and slightly dizzy. You’ve been staring at numbers for so long, you don’t even know what time it is. Morning at night, you can’t tell by a glance through the gray window. 

You yawn again. Maybe chamomile might be a better choice. You lift your head and lean back on your heels as you mull the decision. The floor creaks with your weight as you shift indecisively. You’re not even sure you have any left.  

As you back up, you collide with something, someone, else. You grunt as suddenly there’s a clamp around your neck and you’re shoved forward against the stove. You brace the edge, careful not to touch the top as the heat from the burner radiates across the metal. 

Lee’s chuckle brushes over your hair, “there you are, girl. You been hiding.” 

“Eek, no--” you squirm and writhe. 

He’s too strong. He pushes harder and you’re forced to bend, precariously hovering over the stove, the kettle not far from your cheek. You squeak as your slippers scuff on the floor between his feet. 

“Please--” 

“You should be begging,” he snarls, “little girl like you, messing where she shouldn’t be.” 

“I’m sorry,” you squeal, “you were hurting her--” 

“Ain’t none of your business, is it?” He jolts you and you nearly hit your head off the back of the stove. He grabs your wrist with his other hand as he pinches your neck tighter. “Your mama likes it rough, don’t ya know? Walls ain’t that thick.” 

You whine and struggle to resist him as he brings your hand up, angling it towards the kettle as you hear that water starting to hum. You can feel the heat roiling from it. You push back against him, pressing your hand to the back of the stove to get better leverage. 

“Want me to hurt you? Is that it? Tired of just listening,” he snorts, your hand shaking close to the kettle as you babble, “suppose like this, won’t be too bad.” 

He wiggles his pelvis against you and you hiccup in fear. You twitch and he shoves your hand against the kettle. You cry out as it scalds your skin, steam hissing through the spout and towards your face. Your eyes well and you gnash your teeth. 

“Pl-please,” you plead and he lets go of your arm, framing your hip instead.

He pulls you back against him, “Mmm,” he shakes his hips again, “think I could. You ain’t bad from behind.” 

Horror erupts up your throat as you scramble desperately, trapped by his weight. You grab onto the handle of the kettle, even as your burnt flesh screams, and you hurl yourself back. He staggers as you swing the heavy vessel in his direction but it only splashes on your slippers as he dodges away from you. A flare of anger lights up his blue eyes. 

“Ha,” he sneers at you, “you’re funny, girl. Got a whole lotta fight for nothing. Far as I can tell, ain’t no other man around to want you. Not even your daddy.” 

You lower the kettle, breathless and terrified. The sting of his word wounds more than the blistering flesh on your fingers. You shake your head. 

“Leave me alone,” you croak. 

“Hmph,” he curls his lips, “just you wait,” he eyes you up and down. 

You stand, paralysed by the stove. He stomps away and you watch him go, not daring to move. When you hear your mother’s door slam, you shakily set the kettle on the countertop. You turn your hand over an examine your palm, the sight of it adding to the agony. 

You don’t know how you can write now. 

📓

You tap the mousepad twice to get it to react. Your poorly wrapped hand makes everything double the task. You huff as you switch hands, awkwardly navigating to the email icon. You expand the window and find a new email. Professor Smith. 

‘Thank you for your last submission. I have reviewed your work and would like to provide feedback via Zoom if possible. Please provide times which work for you. 

Looking forward to speaking again. 

Take care, 

Raymond’ 

As usual. He is very direct. You can almost appreciate that about him and yet it does not rein in your paranoia. Feedback via Zoom? Why? Can’t he just write it down? Did you do something wrong?  

Ugh. You slump and stare at the keyboard. It can’t be avoided. You haven’t even started Six because of your hand. Maybe a review would be helpful. Besides, it would be a waste to give up now. It wasn’t so bad before, was it?  

You hit reply and key in your response slowly with one hand. 

‘Hello Professor, 

I can do anytime tomorrow.  

Thank you.’ 

It isn’t the most academic or professional response. You don’t know what else to say. You have no schedule to adhere too, you can only hope your mom isn’t making a racket. 

You send and close up the laptop. You have to rewrap your hand. It’s really hurting but you’ve been rationing the Polysporin. You just want it to heal quick so you can finish your work. 

📓

Professor Smith confirms for nine in the morning. You make sure you’re awake but your head is pulsing. Your sleep schedule is all off. You opt for a plain long-sleeved tee over the hoodie, trying to appear as presentable as you can. Nothing you own can compare to his tidy attire; you recall his sweater and stiff collar. Often, you find yourself wilting over how he must think of you. Just like everyone else does, you suppose. 

You get set up. Your room isn’t too bad. You’ve been trying to keep up on it. Your laundry is in a basket although the bookshelf is getting a bit cluttered again. Oh well, he won’t be able to see much around you. 

You open the laptop. Ten minutes to go. You can hardly sit still. Your anxiety peaks as you hear your mom’s voice from down the hall. It’s early for you, but even earlier for her. 

There’s a knock at the door, “honey, do we got any coffee left?” 

“Mom,” you get up and go to the door, cracking it open, “I left enough for a pot in the tin. I’m still waiting on the credits.” 

“Oh,” she smiles through the narrow space, “Lee musta used them the last of it.” She smiles. She’s drunk. She hasn’t just woken up, she’s been awake all night. She turns and waddles away unsteadily, “baby, we got no coffee.” 

You sigh and shut the door. You go back to the computer. Please don’t make a ruckus. You don’t need another scene. 

You click the meeting link and fidget. You’re not ready. Are you ever? Life is just doing things you’re unprepared for. 

You wince as Professor Smith appears on the screen. He greets you by name and you return a ‘hello, professor’. 

“Good morning?” He asks brightly. 

You shrug, “yeah, I guess...” you look one way then the other, uncertain, “how are you, professor?” 

“Great, thanks for asking,” he reaches for a tall mug and takes a sip before exhaling, “so, I suppose you would just like to get this over with.” 

“Um, no, er, I...” 

“Not saying anything about you,” he assures as he leans forward, crossing his arms over the desk. His eyes scan through his lens and you realise he must be reading something on the screen, “you’ve done wonderful work. I especially wanted to high light a few things.” 

“Oh, uh, yeah, I probably made some mistakes,” you clumsily click around as his image remains in the corner of the screen. You hiss as your fingers throb and open the workbook. 

“On the contrary, it’s perfect. In fact, you’ve managed to bring my own error to light. I was certain at first it wasn’t me but I went in a redid the work for Problem Eight. Clever.” 

You sit back and nod, surprised.

There’s a thump and your mom’s voice, met by Lee’s rumbling timbre. Muffled enough that their words can be deciphered but you worry it is still heard through the microphone. You clear your throat and move closer, sitting up as you bring your injured hand to rub your neck. 

“A lot going on?” Smith wonders. 

“No, sir, sorry, I wasn’t expecting it,” you shrug and scratch your cheek, the gauze rough and loose. 

“Oh my, what’s happened there? Are you alright?” 

You pause and jerk as another bang sounds and your mother’s cackle erupts, stopping sharply 

���Yes, sir,” you quickly hide your hand, “I had an accident. Um, I was going to ask... it’s taking me a while to type...” 

“By all means, we may discuss accommodations,” he assures, “I am, as ever, patient. Most importantly, you must take care of yourself.” 

“Sir,” you nod and your door rattles in the frame. “Um...” you glance over your shoulder. Why now? 

“Are you certain this isn’t a bad time?” 

“I’m sorry,” you face the laptop, “I didn’t think--” 

“Hey, you lazy bitch!” A hard rap shakes the door behind you, “get out here.” 

You go wide-eyed and stare at the screen. No. Please. Not again. 

Professor Smith’s brow ripples and his jaw squares, “it seems you’ve got some chaos over there.” 

“It’s just... I... one sec,” you bring the call full screen and search for the controls and hit mute. You stand up and go to the door, trying to block it out with your body. You open it as Lee smirks back at you, “we’re all outta coffee. Why don’t you go and get us some?” 

He holds up a ten dollar bill and flicks it against your nose, “y’ain’t got nothing else to do.” 

“I’m busy,” you say, “can it wait a few minutes?” 

“Busy?” He snips, “with what? You can watch your damn TV when you get back.” 

“Sorry, but I can’t--” 

“Lee, she’ll go in a bit,” your mother preens from down the hall. 

“I got a damn headache, she can drag her ass out right now,” he barks back at her, “it’s my money, ain’t it?” 

“Please, I’m... just after.” 

“Why? Whatcha hiding?” 

“Nothing, it’s school--” 

He shoves the door and you stumble back, hitting the bookshelf with your shoulder. He bulls past you and looks around, his eyes narrowing on your laptop. You turn to see the professor watching intently from his side of the call and you scurry to catch up with Lee and stop him. He elbows you away, tossing you against your bedframe. You hit it and crash to the floor. 

“I see, you entertainin’,” he scoffs and hits the keys several times. 

“Who are you, sir?” Smith asks, his tone cool but dangerous. 

You hear the little blip that signals the mute is off, “should ask ya the same. Whatcha doin’ talkin’ to young girls, eh?” 

“Is she your daughter?” Smith challenges and gets a chortle in return. 

“Nah, just a whore like her mother, ain’t she? You’d know better than me.” 

You get to your knees and grab at his hand, “please, he’s my professor.” 

“Don’t lie to me. Irene,” he spins as he hollers for your mother, “come see what your daughter’s doin’." He pauses to grit over his shoulder, "If ya gonna be whorin’ on the internet, you should at least try to get some money outta it.” 

“Huh, Lee, leave her alone,” your mom appears in the doorway and you crawl past Lee, keeping low as you reach up to keyboard and feel around. 

Professor Smith says your name but you hold the power button until the laptop fan slows and quiets. You sit back on your heels and look over as Lee peers around your room. Your mom sways in the doorway. 

“Who was that?” She asks. 

“I told him, it’s my professor--” 

“You ain’t smart enough for all that book stuff,” Lee growls, “go on and keep lyin’.” 

“Why do you care?” You sniff. 

“Honey, don’t be rude.” 

“Mom,” you whine, “he shouldn’t be in here.” 

“Lee, baby, I’ll go get the coffee,” she redirects. You hang your head. 

“I want her to go,” he turns and throws the ten at you, “the way she leach of ya, it’s the least she can do.” 

You wince, “it’s okay, mom, I can go.” You grab the desk and stand, swiping up the bill. You need to get out of this apartment. Staying will only make him angrier. Staying will only make she shame worse. 

[rfxiii]

So glad to see you posting again! Welcome back!

I was thinking, how about maybe some dating headcanons for Franklin? You know, just some “what it would be like to date him” HCs? How fast he’d fall for you, what kind of stuff you’d do together, etc etc etc.I need to feed my lil crush on him! Thanks! 💚

(Thank you for the request! I always love getting requests for Franklin! 💚 He doesn’t get nearly the love he deserves, so thank you for requesting him! 🙏🏼)

To start, Franklin is a fairly confident guy when it comes to flirting. He’s attractive, smart, and skilled, and he knows it. And when he meets you, and sets his sights on you, he won’t hold back with the smooth talk and blatant flirting.

That being said, he actually finds himself pretty nervous when it comes to asking you out on a date. You guys probably hung out socially a handful of times before he took his chance asking you out. And it’s only once you’ve said yes to him that he realizes he has no idea where he wants to take you.

He floats the idea of making a reservation at one of the expensive restaurants Michael likes, he considers taking you to the movies, or maybe a bar. But in the end he settles on taking you down to the pier— you can walk together, get a chance to talk, and he has high hopes he can win you one of those cheap stuffed animals from one of the rigged game booths.

Franklin doesn’t just wear his feelings on his sleeve by any means, but when he starts to fall for you it’s obvious. It’s probably around three or four months into steady dating that he realizes that this isn’t just casual for him anymore. It’s like, one morning after you’ve stayed the night he sees you breeze through the kitchen, with one of his shirts on, and he knows right then that he wants this to be a serious, long term thing.

And it’s about a month or so after that he finally has the confidence to tell you he loves you. He’d been more than sure for a while, but he’d kept the words to himself until he was sure you felt the same way. He’s done his fair share of messing up in his past relationships, and he wasn’t about to take that chance with you.

He likes taking you to different sports games (mostly football and basketball), to car shows (he’s a big car guy), and out to nice bars. But he’s certainly not opposed to anything you want to do, even if that means getting dragged along to go shopping after he’s picked you up coffee and driven you all around Los Santos.

But while he does enjoy going out, Franklin's favorite activities mostly involve you guys staying at home together. He likes being extra as hell when you guys have stay at home dates. He’ll order food from, like, two or three different places, he gets a few bottles of good wine, puts on music, and plans out movies to watch and games to play. He loves the opportunity to get you all to himself, in a chill environment, where it’s just the two of you with no outside distraction.

You know Chop isn’t technically Franklin’s dog, but you spoil him like he is. By the time Lamar gets him back he can’t stop whining about how you and Frank ruined his “killer” dog.

You both have your share of arguments, and some of them get a little messy (not as bad as Michael and Amanda tho 👀). But, at the end of the day, you both love each other. And Franklin knows that, more than anything, he doesn’t want to lose you. He’s stubborn, but he’s also apologetic and forgiving. He’s not too proud to apologize first. And he’s patient enough to wait out any petty attitude you may give him until you’ve both calmed down. He loves you, and he won’t let a disagreement get in the way of that, ever.

All in all, Franklin is definitely the type of man you could have a long future with, if you’re willing to overlook some of his more..criminal activity. He may get up to some occasionally dangerous things, but he keeps a distinct separation between all of that and you. He’s protective as hell. And if there’s one thing you can always trust about Franklin, he’s always going to make sure you’re taken care of and safe.

[angeart]

hhau rescue rambles - part I

>> hhau masterpost here << [cw besides the usual mess and violence: animal death mention]

It’s been months since the latest hermit got saved, and over a year since Hermitcraft imploded. There’s only two people to go: Scar and Grian. And they can’t seem to locate them at all. But they can’t stop looking. They can’t, they won’t. 

The rescue party is comprised of X (voidwalker), Doc (creeper), Ren (wolf), Impulse (partially demon), Cub (vex), Gem (deer), and Pearl (moth). Thanks to X knowing how to navigate and survive the void, they are able to get a void vessel (a sort of ship) to base in as they go around scanning different worlds and scouring for information. 

Until they come across a world that reads as permadeath, and somewhere in the world files, X flags Grian’s and Scar’s name. Not as players; there’s no list available here. What comes up is the wanted poster. It doesn’t have a date stamp. It could be months old, and they know Scar's track record with dying.

Still, they have to try.

They search for a place that seems to have good resources and Cub, Gem, and Pearl get dropped down. They’re equipped with bracelets that they can activate to send X a signal to teleport them back, and two extra for Grian and Scar, if they do find them, but they have to gather any other kind of equipment, including armour and weapons, on their own.

They quickly realise comms don’t work on this world, and as the player list is also non-existent or corrupted, they are going in blind.

Well… almost.

They use Cub’s vex bond with Scar to pick a direction to head in.

--

Grian and Scar, in the meanwhile, are not having a Good Time. 

Some awful things have happened prior to this, namely the ending of the Summer house arc. To quickly sum it up, Grian and Scar went up north, for as long as they could. Away, away, away from everyone. Until it felt like maybe they’re far away enough, and they tentatively set up a house. Which turned into a nest. Which turned into a semblance of permanence.

A lot of things went on here. Days turned into peaceful weeks and, tentatively, they started thinking that maybe they can start planning some kind of future here. They planted crops. Scar re-learned to glide with his torn wings. Grian unfurled his wings and re-learned the feeling of flying through the sky. And they found a bird friend! (A real, living bird in this world!)

The reality caught up to them eventually. 

Nobody’s really seen Scar or Grian for a while, but the avians in this world have dull wing patters, for survival reasons, and so Grian is really special. And the hunters don’t want to give that up. The reward on the wanted poster gets upped, and now the fever pitch to get this avian rises. The hunters go further. In bigger groups. Greedy and determined.

They find the nest house, empty at the time, and they burn it down. 

Scar and Grian come back to find it in flames, and to find themselves unsafe and hunted once again. All of a sudden, they have nothing again. The fire licks high, turning everything to ash, to a distant cheering and hollering of a party of hunters. There’s no sign of their bird friend.

(Grian finds him later. Dead, with wings cut off. The only creature that resembled him; the bird he befriended, the proof that a winged creature could exist here and survive. Ripped to pieces. Echoing the only fate that is bound to await Grian as well.) (It was a sun conure parrot, bright and beautiful.) 

The hunters are on their tail once they realise that Scar and Grian are here; that it wasn’t just some temporary base that’s now abandoned. With no remorse and still too much cheer, bloodthirsty and unstoppable, they go after them. 

Scar’s blood is absolutely boiling and he expects Grian to ground him. To talk him down. But Grian’s mind buzzes, looking at that bird, and— He’s as down to fight as Scar is. Because anger is easier than grief right now.

He’s so tired of grief. 

So instead, Grian goes angry and feral. (The other option is to fall apart, and he can’t.) 

They tear this particular hunting group apart, and it’s meant to make them feel better, but it doesn’t. It feels like a necessity; like just one more step towards survival. They loot what they can, and they continue moving, realising that stopping anywhere to do more than just survive is a moot point. They’re not going to outrun this. They'll never be allowed to stop. They’ll be hunted forever.

(Grian will be hunted forever—)

The word gets out, and more and more hunters arrive, wanting the trophy of violet wings and the wanted reward for themselves. It’s a sport to them. A way to get rich. Like a gold fever, they continue tracking Grian and Scar, relentlessly hounding them down.

There are times when things go worse in these encounters. Grian gets his wings grabbed and attacked, and it sends him spiraling back to never allowing anyone—including himself—to touch his feathers. (He was doing better and now it’s all gone.)

They internalise many horrible thoughts, during their run. It’s been a year-worth of culmination of awful events, a year worth of pain and fear and loss. 

For Scar, as a vex, he’s been expected to be a monster from the start. And all he wanted here was some peace. To be with Grian. He wasn’t allowed it, but now he finally got a glimpse at it—at what could’ve been; at who he wanted to be from the beginning (who he’s always been)—and it’s violently taken from him. So yeah, fuck it. If they want a monster, he’ll be a monster. 

(This leads him to thinking that he shouldn’t be trusted with soft things anymore, Grian’s feathers included, especially as Grian gets ground-bound again and starts pulling his wings tightly against his back and flinching at the mere implication of touch.) (It hurts to witness, after what Scar’s seen: Grian, freely gliding through the sky, violet feathers catching sunlight.) (He was allowed to preen them, tentatively, slowly, gradually, a couple of times.) (Not anymore. Not anymore.)

 Grian keeps thinking about the bird, and how they’re the same. He’s seen the brutal display, the way the wings were taken. He can’t quite stop thinking about it. 

But it’s more than that. He’s also thinking about [redacted]. About anything winged being doomed. About what happened with the vexes. It all spins and spins and spins until he can’t see himself as anything but harbinger of death.

The hunters wouldn’t care to go this far for one vex. They only go because of his goddamn feathers.

Naturally, this topples into him thinking that Scar will be safer and better off without him. They’ve been running on sleepless nights and exhaustion, trying to get away to no avail. They’re tired, and things are looking dire, and— Grian wants it to stop. He needs Scar to be taken out of this equation, separated from this fate. He needs him to be safe. (He can’t bring death to Scar.)

Grian can lead the hunters the other way. They only really care about him. ([redacted] already proved that point, after all.) 

So one night, Grian sneaks away.

He presses a soft kiss to Scar before he goes. (It’s a farewell kiss.) Scar is asleep, only kind of waking up to it—just that groggy, sleepy “mm?” Grian kisses his forehead again, oh so gently, and murmurs the quietest “Love you. Stay safe for me.” To Scar, it just feels like a dream, and he dozes off again, none the wiser.

The next morning, Scar wakes up to Grian gone.

For a while, he doesn’t even remember that hazy interaction from the night, but then he does remember, all of a sudden. An absolute vertigo slams into him, panic flooding his veins as he stares down the empty, quiet forest.

And this is when the Hermit Rescue Party finds him.

They only find Scar.

They only find Scar, and they instantly try to take him off world.

-- part II here

[waytooinvested]

Small Problem… Chapter 5 (FINAL CHAPTER)

You can find the full story on AO3

…………………………………………..

‘I really am so sorry about this, it seemed such a nice idea when Trxy suggested it, I never even considered something like this could happen…’

Kelly nodded dazedly, still holding the slice of bread she had been spreading when Lena and the imp woman had found her to deliver their hurried explanation, but no longer attempting to turn it into a sandwich. She blinked between them for a moment, then apparently made a decision and turned a sympathetic smile on the harried looking blonde in front of her.

‘We understand, it must be a huge adjustment when you first come to Earth. But for future reference, non-magical gifts are generally safer for little children. Maybe consider a doll, or a packet of coloured markers next time?’

‘Absolutely, no more wishing presents, I promise. I do hope this won’t impact Esme’s friendship with Trxy though? She’d be devastated if they weren’t allowed to play together anymore.’

‘Of course we wouldn’t stop the girls being friends! Trxy will need to learn power control on Earth, but Esme’s in the same boat. Accidents happen.’

‘Thank you for being so understanding Mrs Olsen-Danvers.’

‘Please, call me Kelly.’

‘Pffskdrdlyn.’

The two women shook hands warmly while Lena leaned against the kitchen counter and tried not to glare. It wasn’t Pffskdrdlyn’s fault. Not really. Cultural misunderstandings, learning curve, adjustment to Earth, it was all perfectly reasonable. But Kara had been tiny for a week now, and she kind of wanted to glare at someone about it. It sure as hell wasn’t going to be Esme or the sweet little gappy-toothed blonde girl she was playing with, so this woman would have to do.

‘Can you turn her back?’

Lena managed to keep her question from sounding overtly hostile, but she knew it lacked the warmth Kelly had brought to the conversation so far. Thankfully however, Pffskdrdlyn either didn’t pick up on her coolness, or else was simply unoffended by it.

‘Oh yes of course, nothing easier! I can do it right-’

The woman raised her fingers as if about to snap, and much as she was loath to stop her, Lena threw her hands up.

‘Wait!’

‘Why?’

‘When she shrank there was a blast that threw all of us across the room, and Kara ended up naked and trapped in her boot... I just think in the middle of a group of little children might not be the best place for something like that to happen? Especially if she’s sitting on someone’s shoulder at the time.’

Pffskdrdlyn lowered her hand again, frowning slightly.

‘Trxy must have been sloppy, there shouldn’t have been a bang unless she made a mistake. I’ll have to have a word with her about that.’

‘We should probably talk to Esme first anyway. I still don’t understand why she would wish for this’ Kelly chipped in, and Lena had to admit she had been wondering the same thing.

Suprisingly, the answer turned out to be because Alex told her to.

Well, sort of.

Once Alex, Esme, and Kara had been extricated from their various party activities into the relative quiet of the kitchen the story had come out piece by piece, until finally they had it all. It seemed that Esme had been bemoaning the fact that her friends all had proper action figures while she just had a Barbie with a red and blue plasticine supersuit, and Alex had told her that maybe if she wished really hard, she would get to have her own little Supergirl in time for her birthday party. Of course, she had been hinting at the doll that was already wrapped and hidden in the bottom of their closet, having no idea that Esme had a real wish in her pocket at the time, but Esme had taken her at her word. Alex looked increasingly dismayed as the truth unfolded, running her fingers through her hair and glancing guiltily over at where Lena and Kara were hovering as unobtrusively as they could off to one side (metaphorically in Lena’s case, literally in Kara’s).

‘But why didn’t you tell anyone? At least after a couple of days when you saw we were all trying to turn her back.’

‘Auntie Kara likes being little! She likes playing with me and eating big snacks and being the lead singer in the supergirl band, she said.’

Esme looked to Kara for confirmation, forehead puckering as she started to realise that she might have made a big mistake. Her lip wobbled, and Kelly drew her in closer.

‘It’s okay baby. Now we know what happened, your friend Trxy’s mom can turn her back to normal, then we can have a proper talk about what to do next time there’s a power accident like this, okay?’

‘But- but we can’t turn her back now. It’s my party. Auntie Kara was going to be in all the games, they won’t work anymore if she’s big. We didn’t even do the concert yet.’

Alex sucked in an audible breath of the kind that usually preceded her temper, but her voice remained impressively gentle with Esme.

‘Es, you can’t make auntie Kara stay small just because you want a doll with real powers to play with. Think about what she wants!’

‘But we made an extra jello mold so she could have a boounce hoouse.’

Esme’s objection trailed off into a wail as big tears started rolling down her cheeks, and Kara flew over to dab at them with the hem of her cape before turning to meet Alex’s gaze, one hand stroking comfortingly at the tip of her niece’s nose.

‘Well hang on Alex, maybe we could wait, just until after the party. It’s only a couple more hours.’

‘Kara, we can’t reward bad behaviour. Esme knew better than to not tell any of us what happened, even if it was an accident. It’s been a week!’

‘I know, but it’s her birthday.’

Esme and Kara both look imploringly up at Alex, matching puppy dog expressions on their faces.

‘Pleeease?’

Alex folded her arms, frowning between her daughter and her sister.

‘You just want that jello, don’t you?’

Kara hesitated, looking somewhere between affronted at the suggestion and sheepish that it maybe wasn’t entirely wrong.

‘...Not JUST.’

Lena snorted, then quickly turned it into a little covering cough while Alex and Kelly shared a few moments of serious, silent mom-speak. Eventually Alex sighed, and nodded resignedly.

‘Fine, since you’re okay with it we’ll wait until after the party. But we’re going to have to have a proper talk about this at some point.’

‘Absolutely. Big, serious talk with our serious faces on. Tomorrow. But right now, Es, I believe our guests are waiting for us. Shall we?’

‘YAY!’

The tears were instantly forgotten as Esme and Kara dashed off to rejoin the party, already planning out the finer points of their big concert as they went. Once they were gone Alex met Lena’s eyes, and winced.

‘Sorry.’

Lena shrugged, caught somewhere between elation that they finally knew what had happened and that she absolutely, definitely hadn’t hurt Kara with her powers, amusement at the unlikely ridiculousness of it all, and disappointment that she had to wait a while longer to have Kara back to full size so she could finally, finally kiss her (not that her goddaughter’s birthday party was the ideal place to do that, but she would have taken what she could get, even if it was a just a stolen moment in the coat closet like teenagers playing seven minutes in heaven).

‘Oh well. It’s Kara’s choice, and it’s not for much longer.’

‘Yeah, but-’

They were interrupted by the sound of something shattering from the next room, and as one they sprang into action, everything else set aside as they rushed off to find the source of the noise and make sure no one cut themselves on shards of whatever had just met its demise.

From there the rest of the party passed in a chaotic, joyful blur of hero-themed games, including pin the cape on the Super; a dodge ball inspired heroes vs villains stand off with foam balls standing in as powers and a few willing parent volunteers as the villains; an epic battle with a monster pinata (in which after gamely battering away for a few minutes the children had called Kara down to finish it off, and she had put on an extremely satisfying show-fight, got ‘swallowed’, then blasted dramatically out from inside in a shower of miniature candy bars); and of course the eagerly anticipated Supergirl band concert.

Much as Lena was chomping at the bit to get Kara back to normal, she had to admit that she was glad not to have missed out on seeing this. The four little girls (five, counting Kara) were clearly taking it extremely seriously, and when everything was ready the rest of the guests and parents were ushered in to sit in cramped rows in the living room, curtains drawn so that the only light came from the handful of glow sticks each girl had wrapped herself in before artfully arranging themselves around their makeshift stage.

They waited in the dark for a few seconds, then from the back of the group Sammy switched on a Spongebob Squarepants flash light, spotlighting Kara’s dramatic pose in the centre of her doll-posse. As soon as the light came on, all four girls started waving their glow-stick adorned arms, and Kara launched into their opening number (as Lena had suspected it was the ‘Hero in my Hand’ jingle, and she felt Alex wince beside her even as she gamely kept the excited grin on her face for Esme’s benefit). The whole thing was surprisingly effective, and between the lighting efforts, Esme’s enthusiastic (if not entirely tuneful) kazoo accompaniment, and Trxy’s focused animation of the supergirl dolls to turn them into jerky backing dancers, the audience started getting into the performance in earnest. By the time the band had moved on to their main number (an unexpectedly heartfelt rendition of ‘I need a hero’), Lena couldn’t resist recording it on her phone for posterity, the same warm glow of fondness she always felt watching Kara do karaoke flooding through her.

After that they looped back to ‘Hero in my Hand’, getting the audience to join in at increasing speed with each repetition, until finally Alex couldn’t take it anymore and called out that it was time for the birthday feast to begin. Esme looked disappointed for half a second, then apparently decided the lure of party food was worth missing out on a fifth round of her new favourite song for and scurried after her friends.

They were about half way through the meal and had so far managed to avoid any major spills or sugar-overload sickness incidents, when Nia leaned over to murmur to Lena on her way past with a stack of extra napkins.

‘You know, if you two ever get married your wedding day is going to have to compete with this-’ she gestured to Kara, who had apparently finished jumping on her jello bounce house and was now making a snowman out of the stingingly artificial blue bubblegum flavour ice cream that Alex and Kelly hated feeding their daughter, but that Esme for some reason adored with such fervent passion that they had given in just this once ‘-for the happiest day of her life.’

‘Please, I’m a genius with connections and money, Kara can have a wedding cake so big she can be her own cake topper if that’s what she wants.’

‘Damn, okay. I guess you two really are made for each other huh?’

Lena shrugged, suddenly bashful as she realised exactly what she had just said, and the idea of some day marrying Kara settled into her chest as more than just a jokey aside about giant food.

‘I hope so.’

Nia patted her shoulder and flashed her one last grin before swooping in to catch a dangerously precarious cup of lemonade just in time to stop it from tipping all over a nearby plate of sandwiches, and Lena followed suit, getting stuck in to help. From that moment she was kept too busy to glance over at Kara again, until at last the cake had been sung over, cut, and wrapped in yet more paper napkins for the guests to take home, and there was nothing left on the table but the woefully untouched plates of carrot sticks, cucumber wedges and cherry tomatoes; a scattering of sandwich crusts; and the remains of Kara’s jello mold.

Even with her own lack of experience when it came to children’s birthday parties, Lena could tell that the distribution of the cake signalled home time, and her semi-repressed anticipation immediately ratcheted back up to 11 as she searched the room eagerly for Pffskdrdlyn.

… And didn’t find her.

Or her daughter either, for that matter.

Nonononono, where were they?

‘Esme? Where’s your friend Trxy?’

Esme smiled stickily up at her from behind a smeary layer of crumbs and melted ice cream, and pointed out to the hallway.

‘Her mom said they need to get home to take her brother to soccer practise.’

Lena dropped the stack of paper plates she had been clearing, ignoring Alex’s indignant protest as soggy corn chips and half chewed chipolata sausages scattered across the floor, and ran for the door. She should have insisted on turning Kara back right away, she should have known something like this would happen if they put it off. They were probably already gone by now, and she’d have to wait even longer to-

Pffskdrdlyn was kneeling by the front door, attempting to wrestle her daughters wriggling feet into her outdoor shoes while Trxy bounced up and down and chattered on about the party without apparent pause for breath. At the sight of them Lena was hit by a wave of relief so powerful that it made her knees shake, and her next words come out unexpectedly tentative, as if the two imps might vanish if she allowed herself to sound too eager.

‘Um, before you go-’

Pffskdrdlyn glanced up at her distractedly, two thirds of her attention still on her battle with Trxy’s shoelaces rather than Lena, then apparently gave up and gestured at them vaguely, nodding with satisfaction as they jumped to attention and tied themselves into neat bows.

‘I’m trying to get into the habit of doing things the human way, but it’s just so much easier to use magic, I don’t know how anyone ever gets anything done without it.’

‘Right, yes, speaking of magic though-’

‘Hmm? Did you need something dear?’

‘Yes. Kara. I need Kara- I mean, you were going to unshrink her? Please?’

‘Oh of course! Sorry, it slipped my mind for a minute there. I really need to get going now, but look, take this-’

Pffskdrdlyn held out her hand, a small, slim object not dissimilar from the glow sticks the children had been playing with earlier appearing in it as she did so.

‘Once the party’s over and Kara’s ready to resize, just snap that in half and the rest will take care of itself. No need to wish this time, the intention is already set – we don’t want any more accidents do we?’

Lena ignored the mildly patronising tone of the comment and took the wish-stick carefully, cupping it to her chest with a reverence she probably would have been embarrassed about if she could bring herself to care about anything except the promise it represented.

‘Thank you.’

...

It was just the two of them in the end.

The rest of the party guests were gone, everyone else was outside clearing up the unholy mess that could be created by fifteen excited children over the course of a few hours, and Lena and Kara were alone in Esme’s bedroom, Kara divested of her miniature Supersuit and swamped in the folds of a blanket to avoid a reverse incident of what had happened during her shrinking, Lena kneeling beside her with the wish between her fingers.

‘Are you ready?’

‘So ready. Please.’

Snap.

The stick broke with the small, dry sound of a cracking twig, and as promised this time there was no explosion. There was nothing dramatic at all, in fact.

There was just Kara.

One moment she had been almost buried under the heap of cloth, and the next she was standing over Lena, blanket draped around her shoulders, looking down with an expression of pure, wondering joy on her face. She reached down to help her to her feet, and all of a sudden they were standing in each other’s space, so close that Lena could have counted the freckles on Kara’s nose, had she not been too distracted by the gentle play of breath against her lips to do more than stare into her eyes and lean…

‘Did it work?’

Out of the corner of her eye Lena saw Alex’s head appear around the door, but she couldn’t tear her gaze away from Kara long enough to acknowledge her. The answer was clear enough anyway. Alex waited a beat, but apparently Kara was as unable to say anything as Lena was, and they simply stood there, drinking each other in and trying to believe that this was really happening.

‘Okaaaay. Kara, good to see you back to full size, I’m gonna find you some of my clothes to wear until you get home. You two… keep doing that I guess.’

The door closed, the sharp click breaking the spell just enough for Lena to remember where they were and regain a marginal amount of control over her motor functions. She made to step back, but before she could Kara tugged gently on the hand still holding hers, and then she was kissing her, soft and sweet and so meltingly perfect that a tiny whimper escaped from the back of her throat. Everything else faded away, and Lena reached out to pull Kara closer, hands fisting in the blanket as her tongue brushed lightly against Kara’s bottom lip and was welcomed eagerly in…

‘JEEZ this is my kid’s room, and you’re not wearing clothes Kara! Could you maybe save the rest of your make-out session until you get home?’

This time Kara let Lena put some space between them as Alex came properly into the room with a stack of clothes in her arms, but she was grinning far too broadly to look actually remorseful.

‘Sorry Alex, but I’ve been waiting way too long to do that. Do you uh… mind if we maybe skip out on helping with the clean up? I haven’t been able to go outside much for a week and I’d really like to… go flying. With Lena.’

Alex pulled a face halfway between a smirk and a grimace.

‘Is that what they’re calling it these days? Yes, please get out of here so I don’t have to watch any more of… that.’

They didn’t need to be told twice.

[tequila-solar-storm]

NS/FW

CW mpreg, breeding kink, age difference, somnophilia

Aaaahhh my apologies, I completely forgot about tagging that one you're right vzhzhs

About kinjaw children.. I wonder, I've been trying to visualize and put on paper ajaw's non pixel form and I'm still not sure about it, I hope there'll be more information on him in the future??? I do hope kinich eyes genes end up dominating the genetic lottery tho cause they're extremely pretty.

The funniest part about Kinich responding "Ajaw" to the breeding kink question is probably that he won't elaborate any further??? Leaving the figuring out the logistics to whoever partner he dropped that bomb on Haha.

Tysm for writing all that about... Trinich?? Haha that's an interesting read and I have a different view on the dinamic now honestly, if he does have a living wife, she does sound like a legend!! And Kinich already planning a second round... my guy is truly insatiable xD

A question for you, since I've been wondering ever since you mentioned hcing kinich not having particular preference except ROUGH ROUGH ROUGH

I've been trying to figure out if there's something he does not like.

do you think he'll be into somno??

I feel like he won't but I'm curious to know your opinion on that!

—🌻

Previous Post

Ah, I do love Schrödinger's Age Gap. Let’s assume Huni is 8-10. If Kinich is 22-25 and Trinidad had his daughter young, he’ll be 28-30ish? If that’s the case, the age gap won’t be that big. But at the same time Trinidad could be 40??? 50??? The gap’s suddenly huge then…

Age debate aside, let’s move on to the rest of the ask!

I’m eagerly awaiting Ajaw’s lore too!! He seems pretty important for the Natlan lore in general, and I’m super curious to know what exactly he is! That aside, now I’m just imagining their kid hatching to become some stunningly gorgeous human with Kinich’s (Absolutely lovely!!) eyes and ALL his features. None of Ajaw’s. Ajaw’s going to be so mad 🤣🤣

KINICH ABSOLUTELY WILL NOT ELABORATE!!! He’ll go ‘Ajaw’ and while the poor sap is reeling he’ll pull a ‘okay g’night’ and. Sleep. Leaving his partner completely confused because what??? The tiny pixel lizard has a dick??? Is it pixelated too??? YOU SLEPT WITH THE LIZARD??? Kinich you’re a Cisgender Male™ what do you MEAN YOU GOT PREGNANT WITH HIS EGGS BEFORE?? EGGS WITH A ‘S’???

Trinidad and his partner are like:

Turning polyamorous to spice up your romance: ❌❌❌

Turning polyamorous but only for one guy because you want said bastard OBLITERATED: ✅✅✅

Bold of you to assume Kinich’s going to stop at a second round. He’ll be draining that man until it’s no longer possible for Huni to get a sibling because everything got stolen HAHAHAHA

Kinich’s probably neutral about somnophilia but not for reasons people think. He‘s not bothered about the vulnerability aspect. He’s just too much of a light sleeper to indulge in it!! The second someone’s trying to shove their dick in him he’s waking up. If it wasn’t preplanned/he wasn’t anticipating it, he might accidentally sleep-rip the person’s dick off out of sheer survival instinct before waking up and going ‘whoops oh shit’

It’s mostly the disruption to his sleep that won’t be welcomed. His lifestyle is quite busy, so he values his sleep a lot. Sleep is super important!!! Plus, if he’s going to do it, it’ll be with someone he trusts and not a casual fling. But once again not for the reasons people think.

It’s more so to protect his partner than himself, as strangers have a MUCH higher chance of activating his accidental crotch mutilation mode HAHAHA

Technically, if his partner can do it without waking him up, it’ll be quite efficient for him! Having sex in his sleep means he doesn’t have to waste time doing the deed awake. He can instead use the time to earn more Mora HAHAHA

Jokes aside, I do think he’ll appreciate being awake more since intimacy is something he actively enjoys! If his partner likes it though, he won’t say no. He’s doting like that! But they’ll either have to invest in sleeping aids first, or his partner needs to contend himself with masturbating to his sleeping form. Even then, though, the person runs the risk of getting too close and triggering his survival instinct…

[rontra]

Can I ask how you hold your pen + tablet when you draw? (My wrists started hurting n I wanna figure out how to make it stop lol)

pardon any awkwardness in this post whether phrasing- or formatting-wise I’m typing it on my phone at like 8am HSBDBSB

I hold my pen in a pretty standard(???) grip like this

I sit at a desk (w a desktop computer) and do not use a screen tablet. So I try to keep a pretty upright posture. my tablet is laid firmly on my desk and I can look straight ahead while I draw, which is good for me (my neck/back can get sore easily)

However I do have wrist problems. I can’t always draw as much as I want to, and I often won’t “double dip” on strenuous activities (for example I usually decide whether to play a video game OR draw, and don’t do both on the same day)

(or I can only play specific games, like ones that are purely mouse-controlled (=opposite hand). You get the idea)

Without knowing your exact like, drawing setup and habits (and medical history for that matter) it’s hard to give specific like Hard Advice—but in general try to keep good posture (sit straight, try to use a seat with good lower back support, don’t hunch) and keep loosy goosy. try not to hold tension in your body if possible (including the fingers—hold your pencil loosely and don’t grip it tightly)

you might benefit from assessing How you draw and adapt certain parts to relieve how much work your wrist is doing (do you rest your hand on the drawing surface and rely entirely on wrist movements to draw curves/etc? Is it possible to raise your arm up from the desk and use your whole arm/elbow to draw larger gestures instead of causing repetitive strain to the wrist?)

(the settings in your art software—does your brush demand too much pen pressure? Can you adjust the pen pressure settings to respond better to a lighter touch? <- This was Huge for me!!!)

Do stretches before you begin. Take intermittent breaks to do stretches again while you draw. You can look up stretches for artists online!

If your wrists are already hurting then something is already wrong. You should be strictly resting whenever this happens and trying to minimize how much strain you put on your wrist, ideally until you feel no pain at all (and depending on how tender your wrist is, maybe a little after that too just for good measure). I use a wrist brace with a metal plate inside to keep my wrist as immobile as possible when I’m resting. If your problems persist like mine, a solid immobilizing brace is really a godsend. Don’t wear a brace while drawing, but put it on when you stop to rest (even if you don’t urgently feel any pain!)

The most hard to swallow advice—but also the most true—is that you should never work to the point of pain. This sucks, because sometimes I’m in a groove and a drawing is going really well and “if I just push through this slight discomfort the art will be finished and it’ll feel awesome”. This is The Deceiver. You never want to work until it hurts. If you (like me) tend to get caught up in the flow and find it hard to stop midway, get in the habit of checking in with yourself at a set interval (eg set a timer, or make up a rule based on your habits like “after every 2nd Monitor Youtube Video I half-watch while drawing, check to see how my wrist is feeling” (<- meee)) and if you feel discomfort or pain, you have to stop and rest

Getting into good habits NOW is the only way to protect your FUTURE wrist... So you have to bite this lemon for me and stop having fun when your wrist starts to complain. Which sucks a lot. But trust me HDNDBHS

Sorry if I sound like a big downer and/or a fussy worrywart but yknow. I have wrist problems that do prevent me from doing things I want to do sometimes and I hate to see it blooming in other artists 😭 take care of yourself anon!

I’m probably forgetting something because I’m very tired rn (and ironically my wrist hurts so I’m gonna put my phone down and sleep) but if possible you should ask a doctor to have a feel, and tell them any other symptoms (numbness, prickling, etc) if you have them. I’m not a doctor and idk what you have going on, but a wrist brace is pretty easy to acquire and wear, so I do generally recommend that!

Like tldr imo its about the preventatives (good habits like posture and taking breaks) and listening to your body (both during work and when resting in between work!). Wrist problems can get seriously bad if you don’t take measures to slow em down. Good luck! Take care of yourself!!!! 😭🫡

[hlvrv]

BEEN LONG ENOUGH. AN UPDATE IS OWED. i’m in the heat of my essay writing period so i can’t pour work into much leisure activity until march 31st but i do have a plan and a vision for the final chapter. and to let everyone know some things for the future

1. the final chapter will be one large session, similar to the mcdonald’s chapter, so plan accordingly if you have any final gutbuster questions you wanna try to get answered and whatnot

2. however, once the session ends, if demand is high enough, i may plan a final epilogue section that will have everyone available for questions in a location not related to the last resort so you won’t have to stay on theme, just as a last hurrah

3. biggest of all, there will be no more hlvrv after episode 3 is over. and i don’t mean that like my usual ‘haha unless?’ way because i know it’s time! and not for any negative reason but MAN. episode 3 has been fantastic. but i have NO more ideas. running a sans undertale onceler-ask-blog-esque microcosm is a lot harder when it’s literally only you! maybe i should have invested in freemanverse /s

but yeah. it’s going to be 3 years now since hlvrv started (august 2020 i think. don’t quote me on that), and it’s had a good run, but i think i’m finally ready to put down the hat and stop running the weirdest ask blog ever. my final wish is for everyone to recommend hlvrv by saying “it’s like the sans undertale thing but just one person”.

but yeah. thank you to all the hlvrv fans who were only here from episode 1 and lost interest, thank you to the hlvrv fans who stuck with it the whole time, thank you to the people on my ao3 who ask for continuation for the day the world stopped spinning because this blog is for you, thank you for all the fanart, the few fanfics, the jokes, the headcanons, the theories, thank you to radiotvsolutions for getting me the framework to tell these stories, thank you to the anon who called me out on using shrek 4 quotes for hypnos immediately, thank you to that guy who thought me putting my self insert in hlvrv was a joke, thank you to that guy who said i was stealing undertale, thank you to everyone who thought i made the iloveyou virus up for y2kvr.

since this is kinda my last currently updating bastion to y2kvr, i’m kinda finally saying goodbye to it. in a way. but just because it’s over doesn’t mean it’s the end! it’ll always be my baby. and a very weird part of my internet history

see you all again when i have a proper date for the session

[whiskeyswifty]

Feel free to bank this ask if you need more time but what are your overall thoughts? I feel like I won’t be able to ever rank this album bc it straight up doesn’t feel like an album it more feels like she was like 🤲 here ya go! Which I don’t mind too much bc there’s plenty for me to dig into here but I’m always curious to hear your takes! :)

i fully took your permission to bank this and sit on it, so thank you for that haha but FINALLY i think i can talk about it with enough perspective and time with it where novelty or initial vexations have worn off. I think for the sake being respectful of people's sensitivity (not a value judgment) i'll break it up into positives, net neutral thoughts and criticisms. So you can skip the critical section if you're unable to handle frank but thoughtful criticism of her and her work (again not a value judgement, do whatever you need to enjoy what you want to enjoy. i just enjoy engaging with art critically and it is my blog after all). I'm sure i missed something, and i'll babble about it in the near future, but for now this feels like a good place to stop and share where I've landed.

My TTPD songs on repeat (in no particular order):

The tortured poets department

down bad

so long london

but daddy i love him

florida

guilty as sin

who's afraid of little old me

loml

broken heart

smallest man

clara bow

the black dog

i'mgonnagetyouback

i look in people's windows

so high school

the prophecy

POSITIVES:

loml upon first listen was my favorite and is probably the most Taylor swift song on this album, in the best way. the soft and emotive voice, rising with anger and cracking with pain. the piano and the rhyming structure of the bridge being a cascade of couplets, and even the conceit of the song! taking a well known acronym loml and despite the song being a heartbreak song, still using it in the song the way you expect. luring you in and getting you to let your guard down, knowing to wait until the right moment, and then on the LAST LINE subverting that expectation devastatingly. it's got all the swiftian motifs; the longing that lingers despite a betrayal, the magnetism of an old flame that you can never quite stamp out, haunted by it, passion as fire as it but also how it consumes and destroys, being a fool for love, the burden of remembrance and willing yourself to forget. you name it, this song's got it. just really a remarkable little gem of a song.

but after the anthology came out, loml was usurped by the prophecy. it's absoutely my favorite like hoooooooooly shit. this is what i LOOOOOOVE hearing about from her. the perspective of time!! the self reflection!! the tension of what you want vs. what you think you deserve!! The guitar plucking at the start every time makes me go AHHHHHHHHHHHHHH and the way she jumps up and down in pitch or whatever in the chorus??? WOOOOOOOO THATS THE GOOD SHIT. 

the title track really grew on me (and i have supplanted the fairly obvious subject with someone else that suits my taste so i have a ball listening to it. i won't say cuz people are fucking weird on here about deviating from the ~truth~ for their own personal enjoyment but my buddies know and we all agree it makes it so much more fun). I love the melodic way she sings on this song, and it's my platonic ideal jack production, where it's imitating that 80s emotional garbled synth a la new order or erasure or the cure. i eat that shit uppppppp. that final bridge/ring situation though is..... not great and is only saved because of how the way she sings it and how it tickles my brain.

THE BLACK DOG!!!!!!!!! THE. BLACK. DOG. HELLOOOOOOOO WHAT A TUNE WHAT A SONG WHAT A SPECIFIC GIFT FOR ME. literally the starting line lyric gets me every time like WHAT A NICHE EMO BAND NOBODY KNOWS HUH. fun fact, at my moms house recently i found this framed school assignment from when i was like 14 or 15 or something. we had to do a mock front page of a newspaper as an icebreaker activity, you all know what i mean if you know what i mean. And under the music section i put "I love to listen to The Starting Line and The Killers" like askfjalskjfsadklfj. taylor clearly wrote this song about me and sorry i did all that i guess, but you can keep stalking me it's fine.

Clara bow of course absolutely incredible closer, incredible song that i've waxed poetic about several times already so i won't bore you with repeat rants. just a stunner. a curtain close of a closer as the crowd jumps up for a standing ovation.

Aaron on this album.... my guy..... WHAT a showing from someone who has jumped aboard the taylor ship and steered it into incredibly rich directions!!! i think most of my picks for My Version of this album are aaron songs, and even when i thought it was a jack song and i was ready to congratulate jack on finding a sweet spot again..... oops it was aaron ajsdlfkdsfjlkdsjflsd. THE GUY!!! THE DUDE!!! LETS HEAR IT FOR UPSTATE NEW YORK!!!

NET NEUTRALS:

album proper is very solid and fun to jump around! it took me a few listens to really dig into it, but i like it. i don't think i love it, and i think it's a middling ranking somewhere in my ranking overall. Also, I don’t think the order is particularly important, as none of these songs really need to go before or after one another as they have little to do with each other. Which is neutral, and how honestly most albums are, and I'm pretty fine with how it is now . And anyway, play through-concept albums are rare and specific but a different beast than your standard album. I’m fine with how it is because I listen to different songs in different orders each time depending on my mood. but i'm also not interested enough in the subject matter to play around with it too much. I think the album proper is a good distillation of this project's songs with a little bit for everyone in there, which to me is a marker of success, even if i would swap some anthology songs for album proper songs.

I’m not invested in her romantic life anymore, and i've noticed that seems to be one of the top complaints or roadblocks to enjoying this album, which is understandable. Especially when this one is incredibly unsympathetic, as is the sentiment writ large (and if I did care about her personal life, I would have those same roadblocks so lol). But I don’t think her diaristic songwriting is overdone or she needs to hang it up, which i've seen some people complain about. I think at this point, her choice in subject matter is what is key to the success of it. Her love life in a 2024 social landscape is yes comparatively straight, white, privileged, and because the romantic lives of people in that demo have been begun to be de-centered in culture over the course of her career, it’s now boring and rote, and we've had centuries playing out the cyclical drama of straight, white, and privileged people. But rather, her fame is what really is worth writing about imo. that’s what’s juicy about her now and what people wanna know, if she’s going to trade on personal details of her life as song fodder. She’s in such rarified air and songs that delve into how she feels about it are the best on this. what it has done to her? what has it driven her to do? The longer she spends in this machine, what does she decide is most valuable? What is worth it and what isn’t? What did she think would change and what did she think would stay the same, and which of those things was she wrong about? I love hearing about all the answers to questions like that on this album, and also answers to questions I had that she perhaps gave away unknowingly and quite…. Unbecomingly but still delicious none the less. Where we usually get one or two songs about fame per album, she has a nice handful on here and it’s so curious to me, especially considering she wasn’t raised among it. She’s an avatar for the common man in Hollywood in some ways, but losing touch with the common man more and more each day and I love seeing that documented, and how she has a self awareness about that, if no idea what to do about that. if she’s now the monster we made her, I wanna get to know that monster in all it’s ugliness and vindictiveness and whatever else lurks in there, and it seems she too is tired of caging it.

CRITICAL:

i loathe the anthology concept, mainly in how quickly she dropped it. i think the album proper is solid and dropping all those additional songs lowers the batting average significantly, as noted in many critical reviews of the album v. the anthology. I personally chalk it up to her experience with the vault tracks' success, which she mistakenly took as ALL of her songs are great and she should cut LESS of them. when the reality of that was they were received with such excitement because they had the lore of being vault songs, and they were ways for us to revisit eras of her musical styles that have long since passed, and there is IMMENSE novelty in nostalgia. I also think that if she pays attention to middling or negative reviews both from critics and fans alike (which i don't think tree puts on her desk, but she might seek it out for whatever temperature check reasons she has so i won't rule it out) she would have seen how midnights' "bonus tracks" or whatever you want to call them were received pretty unanimously as a great batch of songs, compared to polarized reactions to the album's original songs. perhaps that inspired her to approach her album release this time around by throwing spaghetti songs at the proverbial wall of an audience and seeing what sticks. i don't know if this is.... a bad approach? I don't feel great about it either, but it certainly is interesting coming from someone sooooooo meticulous in every other instance of her Taylor Swift brand in recent years. (or maybe she really did think every single song on the anthology was worthy, and that is perhaps my greater fear).

all jokes aside, I don’t actually think her and jack’s relationship has run its course in terms of inspiring one another to do new and exciting things, I just think perhaps some editing is required. I’m firmly of the camp that it’s not jack’s fault for something sounding how it does, as most people who work with him are quick to take offense to that and say that he very much is an employee as a producer. The artist is always the boss. Of course lesser artists or ones who are more friendly with him may be less honest, because of intimidation/gratitude or fondness respectively, but on the whole, it seems like he is at their mercy and will. And has the range to make music across many genres and composition styles. That being said, I do think there is a comfort in him and Taylor’s working relationship, of course because of their personal one, and that perhaps has become a bit of a hinderance to her. (He continues to make incredibly wide ranging stuff with other artists and his own music, so he stays pushing himself and being pushed) I don’t think what they make is bad, when it’s the least successful, but it’s a tad rote, heavily trodden, and flat. Perhaps the flatness in her voice on some of those songs is her trying to compliment an instrumental that is a bit flat, which is trying to keep pace with her vocals that are flat, and so on and so forth and there is no culprit but just two flat bitches saying exactly to each other. But it’s extremely frustrating if only because we have, on this album even, examples of when they both really blend beautifully and push towards something unique and exciting (Broken Heart, Black Dog, imgonnagetyouback to name a few). I would just like to see more development of sounds like that and exploration of that more boldly, as even those songs dance at the edge of progressing stylistically, but ultimately shy away from fully embracing something new.

it’s very interesting that this album does not have the same retention that her other albums have had with me, at least not instantly or in the weeks after. And what I mean by that is songs are not getting stuck in my head that much. I do not want to revisit them immediately after listening to them, and when I do, some of them have somewhat diminishing returns. And I asked myself why that is and the greater existential question of what is music supposed to be. And I think midnights is a great album to compare to this album and maybe history will make sisters of these two albums, it’s too soon to tell, but with proximity as something to inspire comparison, I think they’re great to talk about in conversation with each other. Midnights is an album that many critics and many longtime Taylor Swift fans did not enjoy to the degree of her others, and some new fans who came to her during folklore were turned off by her returned to pop in a way that some felt was empty. But what is interesting about midnights is despite the fact that the rich text isn’t really there or well articulated or particularly inspiring, the bangers are there to be so crass. Songs like antihero and bejeweled and even karma every time I would return to them or listen to them again I could not get them out of my head. Even though the lyrics are next to nothing or are the simplest versions of those concepts, the marriage of the lyrics with the melody is perfect. I wanna listen again, I get them stuck in my head, I wanna dance to them. Very little of that is on this album currently, even with songs I like or love. There are songs that I enjoy more with each listen, yes, and chew on lyrically and composition wise, but the bangers are not here, not like they have been in the past. if midnight was her putting bangers over substance, this album is her putting substance over bangers. I don’t know if either of those things is the right way to make music, or if there is a right way to make music.

This gets into the existential question that is far beyond her, and not her responsibility to answer, that is what purpose does music serve as an art form. What metrics of success do we measure it by, obviously charts and financial success not being competent measures for art? And should music, which is perhaps the most populous and accessible form of art we have on planet earth because of the universality of a banger, maybe err on the side of bangers as enjoyability is it’s main purpose? Which is to say that should it always put the song over substance? If you can manage both, which she has historically been able to do time and time again, then by all means do so. But if you find yourself wanting to choose between the two, in the aftermath of this album I think my personal feeling is this. If you’re gonna write poetry, just write poetry, but don’t tell me that it’s a song if it doesn’t bang. And I don’t mean that it has to be a pop song, I am being a bit glib. I mean that I should want to listen to it. wordiness and any flow disruptions because of it should not take priority over the fact that it it a song and it should be pleasing to listen to, more so than it needs to be poetic. This album is a bit indulgent in the latter and i feel the songs that couldn't bend to the will of the "poetry" suffered. I think that’s ultimately what makes this album so easy and delicious to talk about because it is forcing us to ask these questions. Not just of music in general, but of Taylor Swift who, in a lot of ways, is a microcosm of the music industry. No I don’t mean that ~she is the music industry~ silly way that people refer to her. But I mean in the way that Taylor is a good case study in asking ourselves what we want from music because she is capable of all of the things that music is capable of. Even further, it’s us asking ourselves what we consider to be successful music. I recognize that this is an incredibly personal question for everyone in the sense that the success of music and art is a subjective opinion and that I am once again wading into waters where my feet don’t touch the ground but I do think it’s what makes talking about all of this so fun and why I find it to be an engaging and important and stimulating debate that we will probably have for eternity, or at least as long as Taylor Swift keeps making music. 

[saintobio]

I won’t lie, I’m annoyed that MC keeps having to remind herself that Satoru is the past and Toji is her future yet all she ever thinks about is Satoru.

I completely understand that she can’t just forget about him instantly (they have a child together, there’s no way to completely forget him) but if she actively wants the life the she supposedly wants she should start doing by spending more time with Toji.

I’m pretty sure this is done intentionally, “not the first time doing it as someone’s wife”. I feel like she really doesn’t even acknowledge Toji anymore, that he’s just a passing thought.

The same too with her family, whilst she’s gotten better at standing up for herself and Satoru, she’s ofter found herself in situations where she’s still priorities Satoru over herself.

Honestly just want both MC and Satoru to heal and take time to themselves before perusing anything major. I feel like the the custody case is going to come up again (chile I was scared for a hot minute 😮‍💨) and like u said MC’s pain doesn’t end until chapter 14.

I honestly don’t think MC’s and Toni’s relationship is gonna last much longer but I do think that they stay friends with some really big boundaries. Same with Satoru and Hime; they may not work out because he keeps comparing her to MC and then this would effect the Hime and MC’s relationship.

I think the last part of the chapter is really telling of how she’s constantly fighting with herself. She has no right to express anger and betrayal but that doesn’t mean that she’s not allowed to feel them. Everything is still very fresh (person would not move onto my best friends ex ✋🏾). This reminds me of in SN where, although she did not accept Satoru and Sera’s relationship, she didn’t do anything to stop it (if I remember correctly). She always has to save face, usually always for someone else; in this case, she’s told Satoru to move on so she can’t get mad if he does.

Sorry if it sound confusing, I just feel like she should start actively doing what she says she wants in terms of a future family. I could just be completely wrong too coz we haven’t had much Toji and MC interaction.

Anyways, great chapter as always Saint, can’t wait to see where this goes next!

this after sy8 makes so much more sense 😅

[andrea-lyn]

ATLA recs post take 2 (electric boogaloo). Am I totally unsurprised I have enough for a third post at some point? Nope. ANYWAY, enjoy another round -- once again predominantly Zukka, though there’s some f/f in this round!

ATLA Recs #2

i wanna be still with you by tristanyvaine

Handwritten letters sent back and forth do not a love story make. Or. Maybe they do, in the case of a certain Fire Lord and Water Tribe warrior who happen to fall in love over sending letters to each other at least.

keeps me up late at night by midnights

Fifteen years since the war had ended, and still Zuko remembered every step of the way as if it were yesterday. More than anything, he remembered Sokka. He'd been in love with him then, and he still was.

ft. ambassador sokka, fancy parties, pining zuko, and two oblivious fools

the brightest you've ever been by panthalassas

Azula folds herself into the lotus position and empties her mind. Then Yue places her hands on either side of Azula's face, and her mind fills back up again. Or: Yue notices Azula is lonely. Turns out, Azula's ready to feel some emotions.

real love baby by verdanthoney

Five times Zuko and Sokka pretend they aren't in love, and one time they don't.

OR,

Sokka initiates a friends with benefits relationship between them, and Zuko keeps coming back for more.

Seasons in the Sun by burkesl17

Ambassador Sokka's first year in the Fire Nation, a story for each of its seasons. With thunder, assassins, blossoms, poison, politics, volcanoes and a baby dragon. Also falling in love.

Or: four parties, four assassination attempts.

Please Return if Found by CSHfic, VSfic

When Sokka sees a “lost pet” poster near his apartment for an actual, literal dragon, he thinks it’s a joke.

Right up until he finds the dragon sitting on his couch.

Nobility by hikuni

Book 3. Sokka/Zuko. Set after The Boiling Rock Pt. 2, Sokka and Zuko explore the Western Air Temple, where Sokka tries to get Zuko to talk about girls, marriage, and maybe even a future for the two of them.

Worship the Ashes by meregalaxiesandgods, patentpending

All Azula wants is for things to go back to the way they were – her father on the precipice of conquering the world, her own position secure at his right hand. Now, the only secure thing is her, trapped in a gilded cage in her brother's new Fire Nation. Lonely and adrift, Azula would do anything to make it end, until an unexpected connection rekindles a light she long-thought had burned to ashes. But falling for Suki isn't something Azula can let herself do, especially with the world as they know it threatening to crumble around them.

Or: Azula goes to therapy, has an identity crisis, stops actively trying to kill her brother, makes a few friends, and falls in love along the way.

No Quiet Life by JustGettingBy

Zuko's not sure when it started. It would be easy to say it started with Boiling Rock, or with the Western Air Temple. But whenever it started, his crush isn’t about to go away anytime soon.

*

“It’s not too late, ‘Lee’. We could steal a boat. Sail across the high seas until we hit the horizon. Spend the rest of our days living off the land.” He brandishes his arm as if to show Zuko the untapped potential of their future as wild hunters.

“No, Sokka.”

Sokka shrugs. “Well, it was worth a shot. When you’re up to your eyeballs in expense reports, don’t say I didn’t ask.”

Zuko’s mouth feels very dry. “I won’t.”

virtues uncounted by bloobeary

fire lord zuko visits the southern water tribe eight years after the war ends

based on that text post

Will We Last the Night by CSHfic, VSfic (My absolute fave of the canon rewrites for its wildly IC enemies-to-lovers feel)!

Chief Arnook never assigns Sokka to protect Princess Yue, so he goes to fight the Fire Nation with the other men. When the moon dies, and the ocean spirit takes its revenge, Sokka is caught standing on the deck of a Fire Nation ship. Sokka should have drowned… and he would have drowned, if not for a certain Fire Nation raft fleeing the North Pole.

[An enemies-to-lovers season 2 rewrite, where Sokka is separated from the gaang during the Siege of the North, and travels the Earth Kingdom with Zuko instead].

Ashes Inside When You Finish Your Song by Muncaster

Sokka writes lyrics for his sister’s band. Zuko plays piano and is unnecessarily nice. Fellas, is it gay to write love songs about your friend and his golden eyes?

(AKA, a modern band AU featuring The Gaang, crappy software equipment, homoerotic lyrics, and the realization that maybe, if you think about a guy every night before you sleep, you just might be in love with him.)

Relief Next to Me by wilteddaisy (taotu)

Sokka thinks Ozai’s beach house is pretty awesome. Slightly less awesome is the couch he has to sleep on, as is accidentally getting into Zuko’s bed. At first, that is.

[twopoppies]

Hello Gina! I’ve been reading comments about H’s hiatus pretty much all day and I would like to bring my personal POV.

I’ve always been more oriented into alternative british scene. When 1D was at their peak during 2011-2014 so were many of my really loved bands - their greatest album has been released during this period of time, they played the best shows and I even had a chance to meet some of my back-in-the-day crushes. So it probably won’t be any secret what happend next - after the their top came their downfall. Some bands didn’t get the recognision they deserved and so they called it quit. Some bands haven’t topped their most famous album and so they called it quit. There was one particular band I loved the most and I can’t describe how disappointed I was when I saw them live after 5 years (back in 2017) and just came to opinion they are no longer what they used to be when I saw them last time in 2012. And guess what - they called it quit too, had few “just for fun” shows last year after another 5 years of unspoken hiatus and nobody expect them to be active (make another album and do some bigger tour) anymore.

So yes, I have witnessed so many heartbreak hiatuses and band breakups. So I’m trying to stay calm about how long it will take H to come back. Yes, I am also sad and got emotional and bit anxious how the future will look like especially when I read that this is basically his first real hiatus and nobody knows what will come next. Yes, he had my 99% interest over the last year and I can’t imagine not seeing him on stage almost every other day wearing cute outfits and doing funny interactions with fans. But I’m trying not to be dramatic because I’m sure H will come back “when the time is right” and it will be great. I don’t know how Shawn Mendes is popular in this fandom but imagine being his fan - he announced huge world tour 2 years ago after covid, played like 4 shows and took a few weeks break because of his mental health problems…and then he cancelled whole tour and nobody knows how long this hiatus will last, there’s no upcoming album and definitely no tour. He’s active from time to time on IG but that’s all. Or Lewis Capaldi who realised new album in May and now he’s on break too because of his health and nobody knows how long it will take. So I think people may stop be overdramatic about H, be happy and grateful what we got for last year and that he hopefully got his mental health sorted and found his balance so he can rest and then work again. I am personally taking it as a time for myself, my own personal growth because to be honest, being 99% focused on H was a bit tiring for me and now I can focus on everything else.

He’ll be alright. And so we will be.

Hi, sugar. Thanks for your perspective. I haven't really come to any conclusions, but I don't think H is in a rush to release music just to release music. He's got to be able to see that topping where he's at right now is next to impossible, and he's not going to want to release something he doesn't love with his whole heart. I find it curious that Sony hasn't posted anything about re-signing him (although I'm sure he would sign with them if he signs anywhere). Yet Rob Stringer was at the last show, so I don't think there's any bad blood. So, that makes me think that possibly they're holding off until they can make a big splash with the announcement. I don't think he's going away forever. But I do think he's going to take his time and come back "when the time is right".

I think we've been incredibly lucky as fans that he was able to put on such an incredible tour over these last 2 years, especially when you look at people like Shawn and Lewis who've been struggling with their mental health and had to pull back. I honestly can't imagine the pressure they're all under. Harry just makes it look easy, but we all know it takes an insane amount of hard work, a massive amount of support, and a huge dose of luck to survive the music industry.

I was speaking with someone this morning, too, about taking time for myself. Outside of my friends, Harry is the main reason I'm here these days, and if he's stepping back for a bit, it may be a good time to do the same. We'll see.

I hope he takes a much needed rest. I hope he does things that inspire and refresh him. I hope he finds balance and has time to do things he hasn't before. And, selfishly, I hope we see him again soon.

[slipping-through-my-fingertips]

In My Head, I’m Yours

Epilogue: Wrapped Around Your Finger

Ao3

A/n: this was so fun to write, I’ll probably do more Percabeth fics in the future 🥰

2 years later

Delphi is back in the same bar where Annabeth first saw Percy. Unlike that night, no one can just walk in and expect to see them. There’s a line of fans waiting for the doors to open; all of whom got their tickets over 6 months ago. It’s completely sold out. Annabeth walked around the building to the stage door, knocked 3 times, until a bouncer appeared. He checked her pass before letting her in.

She found the dressing room easily as there were only two rooms back here. One of which she felt couldn’t really be called a bathroom, as it was most likely an old storage room now turned bathroom.

Annabeth knocked on the other door and Jason shouted come in.

“Annabeth!” Piper exclaimed, running over to hug her.

The two girls have become extremely close in the last year. Even though Piper had seen her only hours ago, she was hugging her like it had been months.

“Can you let go of my girlfriend now?” Percy asked.

Annabeth could see him over Piper’s shoulder but his comments only made Piper hold tighter.

“You hog her,” Piper said, “she’s mine tonight.”

Jason butted in and playfully pulled his girlfriend away from Annabeth, who was laughing at their antics. She was distracted enough by Piper jokingly trying to escape Jason’s hold on her in order to tattle Annabeth again that Annabeth didn’t realize how close Percy was to her. So when she was pulled into a kiss, it took a second before her lips caught up to her brain.

Kissing Percy never got old. His hands were on her exposed back pressing her closer to him. He was warm and smelled like the ocean. It was a new cologne Annabeth had gotten him for his birthday a few weeks ago. When he pulled back, his forehead rested against hers.

“You’re always mine,” he told her, low enough that it was just between them.

“As long as you’re always mine too,” she replied.

Watching Delphi perform also never got old. From backstage, it definitely had a different feeling than standing in the audience. Some nights, Annabeth likes to be by the bar again remembering the times she sat at the bar with Thalia and Leo, before she knew who Percy was, before she got to call him hers.

He was hers now. The way he smiled at her when he turned around to change instruments. Percy always made her feel like the show was just for her. Even with the bar packed wall to wall, he was still performing for an audience of one.

“We wrote this one a few years ago,” Percy introduced. “It’s about a relationship ending but also hoping it won’t.”

“Luckily for Percy, who released his negative nature into this song, he turned out to be very, very wrong,” Piper added.

“And to this day, she’s got him wrapped around her finger!” Jason said.

“Whatever, stop embarrassing me on stage in front of a live audience!” Percy exclaimed. “I love my girlfriend okay!”

The crowd cheered.

Delphi’s fans knew about Percy’s girlfriend but no one really knew her. Annabeth didn’t get recognized, not even at their gigs. Though she was almost always in attendance. Percy wasn’t that active on social media and Annabeth kept hers private.

She didn’t need him to shout it from the rooftops but whenever he talked about her on stage, her whole face got hot.

And it wasn’t as if they were hiding anything. She was the first person he sought when he came off of the stage. Percy included her in their post-show hugs, which at first Annabeth had found to be rather disgusting but she was learning to love them. He hummed her new songs and played new guitar riffs he was working on before sharing them with his bandmates.

Making all our plans in the Santa Cruz same that night

I thought I had you in my palm of my hand that night

First date

Open communication

Fall in love

Annabeth remembered the deal they made in the California sand.

Their first date hadn’t waited long. After they cleared the air, Percy had lifted her up and kissed her.

“Where are we going?” She asked, allowing herself to be led away from the ocean.

“We have a list to begin checking off,” he answered.

“Oh, do we?”

“I owe a beautiful girl a date.”

They found a 24-hour diner ordered strawberry and chocolate shakes and a plate of curly fries.

“What’s your favorite color?” Percy asked. “Mine’s blue.”

“Well obviously,” she said,

“I’m an open book.” He shrugged.

“I like green,” she replied, “seafoam green.”

“Yeah? Any reason in particular?”

He had a twinkle in his eyes that suggested he knew exactly why. But Annabeth was never one to make things easy for him.

She shook her head. “Nope.” Annabeth sipped her milkshake but she was smirking.

Percy grabbed her hand from across the table.

Going back to her hotel room—Percy was sharing one with his bandmates—and falling into bed together didn’t ruin the sweetness of their first date. In fact, it felt very them.

Screaming at the top of my lungs til my chest felt tight

I told myself that I’m never gonna be alright

You had me wrapped around my finger

Open communication was harder. Even with their chosen safe word, they had their fair share of fights. Their pasts caught up to them, their insecurities made themselves known. But neither of them used riptide.

It wasn’t always something life-alternating that they fought over. Sometimes it was over dirty dishes in the sink or using up all the hot water.

This fight wasn’t over something small. Eight months of calling themselves a couple and this was their biggest fight to date.

Annabeth couldn’t remember exactly how it started. She had come back from the firm, carrying a thousand things in her hands. The blueprints had already fallen twice on the way to her apartment.

Her phone was buzzing in her pocket and she was hoping to any god out there that it wasn’t her work mobile. If she had to stare at one more spreadsheet tonight, Annabeth was going to lose it.

Once inside the apartment, blissfully empty apartment, she dropped all of her things unceremoniously on the floor.

She got a shower and tried to scrub the awful day off of her.

Then the music started. Her terrible, no good, neighbors were playing some bass heavy music at a god awful volume. She was ready to yell at someone, anyone and they had it coming.

Annabeth was ready to march over there and pound on their door until they heard her but when she threw open her door her boyfriend was standing in front of her.

“Hey, I brought dinner,” he said.

She let out a breath. “Hi.”

“You forgot didn’t you?” Percy teased, “we made dinner plans.”

“I did forget, I’m sorry.”

He shrugged and led her inside.

Everything seemed fine. They ate and were watching a movie despite the music from next door. But her anger was sitting there under the surface waiting to explode.

Finally, after turning up the tv again Annabeth jumps up from the couch.

“That’s it!”

Percy grabbed her hand, pulling her back down onto the couch, “Hey, hey, what’s going on?”

They were facing each other now. Annabeth felt warm, literally hot with anger.

“I just had an awful day, I hate my neighbors, and I just want to scream at someone.”

“Tell me about your awful day,” he said, still holding her hand.

She shook her head. “I really don’t want to.”

“You shouldn’t keep it all bottled up, it’s not healthy.”

She knew that but Annabeth wasn’t in the mood for venting. She wanted a fight. Which is probably why she picked one with Percy.

“Percy, I don’t want to talk about it.”

Annabeth tried to keep her voice at a normal volume but he kept pushing.

“Stop! Just stop! You can’t solve all my problems.”

“Not if you don’t let me try.”

Annabeth knew she was yelling but Percy’s voice was steady still. She was almost thankful the music next door was so loud because it downed out their argument.

“I’m just so sick of it!”

“Of what?”

“Oh this! The bad days, the music, and just…”

It was like Percy knew what was coming. He was egging her on.

“Say it!” he dared.

“You! You’re suffocating.”

“Because you won’t talk to me!”

“All we do is talk!”

This went on for longer than Annabeth was proud of. It wasn’t until her eyes welled up with tears that she realized what was happening. She didn’t want to be fighting with her boyfriend.

What she wanted was to snuggle up on the couch and finish their movie.

So she said, “riptide.”

Immediately, Percy froze.

“I’m sorry,” she said, letting some tears escape. “I don’t want to fight. I didn’t mean it.”

He pulled her into his arms and whispered into her hair, “me too, me too.”

They ended up talking about Annabeth’s bad day at work. She complained for the umpteenth time about her neighbors. Percy had probably heard these same complaints from Thalia, Leo and her once a week if not more. She was facing Percy on the couch again, sitting crossed legged and eventually got all of her venting out of her system.

“I don’t think I can help with the work issues, but it sounds like everything will be fixed by Monday because you were just having an off day and everyone’s allowed to have those,” Percy said, “but I do have a solution to the neighbor problem.”

“Really because we’ve been thinking of issuing a formal complaint with the landlord. And I really don’t want it to come to that but we’ve talked to them before and nothing happened…” she rambled.

“I think you should move in with me,” Percy said.

“And the landlord doesn’t exactly like Leo, there was this incident when we first moved in and…wait what did you just say?”

Percy smirked, “Annabeth, will you move in with me?”

Annabeth opened her mouth but nothing came out.

“It doesn’t have to be my place either, we can look for somewhere together.”

She threw herself into his arms and kissed him. Annabeth’s hands wove themselves into his hair pushing his face closer to hers. Percy’s hands were trapped between their stomachs. Annabeth had total control over this kiss; she wrapped her legs around his waist pushing down on his crotch. He was groaning into her mouth so she shut him up by adding her tongue.

She wished she never had to breathe again so she could keep kissing him but she needed to breathe and so did he. Annabeth pressed their foreheads together and cupped his face in her hands.

“I am in love with you,” she told him. “Let’s start looking at places right now.”

“Can’t we finish the movie first?” He asked, but he was smiling at her enthusiasm. “Or maybe go upstairs and make out?”

“Just make out? Who are you and what have you done with my boyfriend?” She felt his forehead like he might be running a fever for suggesting such a thing.

“I am in love with you too by the way.”

Annabeth kissed him again.

They never got around to finishing their movie.

I’m wrapped around your finger

I’m wrapped around your finger

When the crowd started cheering for an encore, she knew Delphi couldn’t resist. She made her way backstage to the dressing room.

It was a small space. Annabeth definitely wished she would have designed this building because they were in need of some serious changes.

The dressing room consisted of pairs of tables with matching chairs against the left and right walls with rectangular mirrors hanging above them. These acted as vanities as the bands got ready.

The table Piper used still had her makeup spread out across it. Jason’s had a neatly stacked pile of clothes to change into while Percy’s had a phone charger and his wallet. Percy’s bag was hanging from the chair.

Annabeth’s purse was sitting on the small couch on the back wall of the room. She sat crossed legged at Percy’s table and charged her phone. By the time Delphi got off stage, Annabeth had been scrolling through posts about the show for the past 20 minutes.

greeneyes818: who’s seeing delphi tonite?

piedpiper: @greeneyes818 didnt you go to like the last 5 shows

greeneyes818: @piedpiper yes, and?

piedpiper: @greeneyes818 cu there

Most were about fellow fans meeting up but some stood out to her.

p3rcystan: if percy could stop being hot for like 5 seconds I think I could remember my name

Annabeth had to agree. She was so sucked into it that Percy’s arms around her made her jump. He rested his head on her right shoulder.

“Did you like the show?” He asked, not moving.

“Eh, not your best work.” She shrugged.

Percy quickly spun the chair around and kissed her.

“How about now?”

Annabeth chuckled and tried to stand but her boyfriend pushed her back into the seat.

“Answer me.”

Unfortunately for Annabeth, this side of Percy—the teasingly dominant side—only made her want him more.

“Alright listen,” Jason said, “if you’re gonna hook up backstage at least wait til we leave the room.”

That snapped them out of their daze. Only to find Jason standing with his arms crossed and Piper hiding a laugh behind her hands.

Percy shrugged, clearly not sorry at all.

“I have a hot girlfriend, sue me.”

Annabeth punched his shoulder.

“What?”

“Just hot?” she said.

“Hot, amazingly smart and gorgeous and she does this thing with her…”

Annabeth slapped a hand over his mouth, which only led to Percy licking her palm.

“You’re disgusting, I want to break up.”

At this point, Jason and Piper had packed up and left but Annabeth hadn’t noticed their absence. She didn’t have a chance to think it was strange they left before having a post-show hug.

Percy pouted. “You know you love me…” he sang.

She walked over to the couch to grab her purse. Suddenly, she realized how hungry she was. Leftover pizza at their apartment sounded insanely good right now.

“I might just have cold pizza when we get home because I am…” Annabeth never got to finish her thought before when she turned around Percy was kneeling and holding out a small blue box.

Her lip trembled. Annabeth never thought she was much of a crier but damn it this man in front of her made her feel things she didn’t know existed. And he wanted to marry her.

He wanted her to stay. Forever.

So she did.