#(and not just because I'm not “trying hard enough”)

[ailithnight]

Just gonna save these tags from OP cause they are

Gut Feeling

DPXDC

Commissioner Jim Gordon meets an odd kid in the precinct.

--

“Come on, you really don’t have a way to directly contact Batman?”

Jim smiled. Kids came to the station and asked that all the time. Usually, it was just curiosity and showing them the signal was enough to get them to sign up for the Junior Police program. This one looked a little older than most, teenagers were often “too old” to believe in Batman, but again, give them a little faith now and they’ll never loose it.

“Lookin’ for the Bat, kid?” Jim asked, knowing he was about to make this kid’s –

Jim froze. The kid turned to face him and it was Bruce Wayne. Not playboy billionaire Bruce Wayne, but freshly a teenager Bruce Wayne. The Bruce Wayne who Jim had checked in on time and again from age eight until he ran off on a globetrotting trip to find himself. The little Bruce Wayne with too pale skin and dark bags under his eyes, and not enough love to make up for all the grief weighing him down. And he didn’t look like Damian either, where Bruce was obviously his father but there were distinct traits from his mother. This was a carbon copy of a boy Jim remembered vividly.

“I am.” He even sounded like teenage Bruce. All business, like he was on a mission.

“I might be able to help you, but it’ll take a while.” Jim said and the officer the kid had been talking too gave him an odd look. He waved her off and told the kid to follow him to the commissioner’s office. Normally, he’d be more dramatic, put on more of a show for the kid, but his gut told him this was different, this was important. He offered the kid a styrofoam cup of water then closed the door behind him. “So, what do you need to talk to Batman for?”

“It’s personal. I need to talk to him in person.”

Jim took a sip of coffee from his cup. “He doesn’t appreciate me calling for no reason in the middle of the day.”

“So you do have a direct line?” The kid nearly jumped out of his seat. “If he’s upset, it’ll be my fault, just call him, please.”

“Who should I say wants to talk to him?”

The kid hesitated. “He doesn’t know me, but I have to talk to him.”

Jim frowned. “What’s your name, kid?”

He swallowed and looked like he wasn’t going to answer for a moment. “Danny.”

“Danny…?” Jim wanted a last name but Danny kept quiet. Jim sighed, “He’s likely not going to show up until sundown.”

“I can wait, as long as you guarantee he’ll show.”

“And you’re not going to tell me why you need Batman?” Jim just got a glare in response. “What about one of the other heroes?”

“Only Batman, no one else can help.”

“You sure about that? Not even Superman?”

“Not unless Superman can get me in the same room as Batman.”

“Why’s it so important that you meet him in person?”

“It’s personal.”

Jim liked this less and less by the minute. “Do your parents know you’re here?”

Danny looked away but right when it looked like he wouldn’t say anything he mumbled. “They wouldn’t care anyway.”

After another moment to give the kid time to reconsider, Jim pulled out the Bat-phone. It was a normal Wayne-Tech cell phone, but Jim had been given very specific instructions on how and when to use it. The phone listed all the Gotham Vigilantes without visible numbers so they couldn’t be copied and handed out. He pressed the one for Batman.

“Stand outside, would you?” The kid gave him a look, but followed the request. Jim could see his shadow in the door’s window, not so subtle eavesdropping.

It rang a few times, and Jim sat there awkwardly with a teenager listening to his every move. Finally, a familiar voice picked up the other end of the line. “Commissioner Gordon.”

“Sorry to call you out of the blue Batman, but I’ve got a kid here who needs your help.”

“Who?”

“Says his name is Danny, that you’ve never met him but you’re the only one who can help him.”

“Why?”

“Refuses to tell me.”

“What’s your best guess, Commissioner?”

Jim looked at Danny’s shadow, it looked like he was straining his ears to try and hear what he was saying. Danny had given him almost nothing to work with. Just his name, that he’s never met Batman but needs to talk with him in person. But Jim was here because he listened to his gut. A feeling like when you see a random rock on your neighbor’s doorstep but you’d never go in without an invitation. A feeling like you know what’s in the present and are preparing your surprised face. A feeling like when you cheated on your wife and you know she knows.

“He looks like Bruce Wayne.”

A beat of silence. “What?”

“Danny looks exactly like Bruce when he was a teenager. Exactly the same.” Jim hoped Batman would get it, feel in his gut what Jim felt.

“And he wont say why he’s there?”

“No, and he demands to see you in person.”

“I’ll be there in an hour.”

“10-4.” The line cut off before Jim had finished saying it. He called Danny in again. “He’s on his way.”

Danny glared at him. “If he’s not, if you called some social worker or something, you’ll regret it.”

“I’m sure.” Jim sighed and downed the rest of his now cold coffee.

The sun hadn’t set, but only just barely. Jim ended up taking Danny up to the roof in the end after all, if only to save his window from being broken into. The kid had a red hoodie on, but he was still shivering in the autumn chill and it was just going to get colder by the minute as the sun made its way behind the horizon.

Jim checked his watch and, at exactly an hour from when he called, he acted surprised when Batman and Robin appeared out of nowhere. “Bats.”

“Commissioner.” Batman greeted but his eyes went straight for Danny. “Danny, I assume.”

“Yeah, I…” Danny hesitated, looking at Jim and Robin.

All it took was four words from Batman. “What do you need?”

The kid held out his hand with a flash drive in it. “I’m your clone. My par- The people who made me wanted to make a stronger version of you, but they got ahead of themselves. My DNA is degrading and I’ll die if I don’t get your DNA to stabilize me.”

Holy cow.

“You don’t expect us to believe that, do you?” Robin sneered at him.

“The flash drive has all the info on it. All the data about the cloning process and the, uh, relevant experiments after that.” Batman gave the kid a look. “I didn’t want to waste time on unnecessary data.”

“If what you’re saying is true, why are you here, alone? Are they working on a different solution?”

Danny’s shoulders hiked up. “I’ve been a failure for a while now, I’m not worth the resources and they’d learn more from an autopsy.”

Oof, kid. Jim looked at Batman who seemed to feel the same… if Jim was reading him right.

“So, you wont object to a DNA test?” Robin asked with a cocky head tilt, at least he was relatively easy to read.

“You can try.” Danny said, and then realized what that sounded like. “I mean I wont stop you, but my DNA degrades faster outside my body. You’ll have to take me to whatever lab you plan on using.”

“Then we will.” Batman said and jerked his head towards where they’d probably parked that ridiculous car of his. But then he looked at Jim with a nod. “Commissioner.”

“Batman.” Jim returned the nod. “You’ll tell me how things turn out, yeah?”

“I’ll give you a report.” Batman joked – Jim could tell, it was gut feeling.

[ggidolsmuts]

Secret Weapons - Won Ji-an

TW: Potential spoilers for Squid Game 2! Leave if you haven't watched it.

"Hnngh! Ah! No! Fuck! You asshole!" You're in bed, on top of Ji-an, her hands on your chest, trying to stop you. You have a hand on her neck, and with the other you're stabbing her, pressing your fist into her neck, slowing down right before you actually make contact.

"Fuck, you think I look easy? Die die die die you fuck!" you recite the lines, not stopping until she has her eyes closed, a grin breaking out across her face. "Hey, you're supposed to be spurting blood and dying, not smiling."

"You sound too funny like that."

"Well sorry, I don't tell my girlfriend to die all that often."

"I should hope not." She pulls you close, humming as you nip at her neck. "We should do one more run through the script."

"I'll just do it like this." You continue kissing up and down her neck, and when you find a spot that makes her shiver, you suck on it hard, nipping on it hard enough to make it sting and leave a mark.

"Ow!" Ji-an shoots a hand up there, and she finds a small red line on her fingertip. "I'm bleeding!"

"It's a very tiny nip, just slap a bandage on it later."

"Why did you do that! Now I have to get makeup and stuff over it!"

"So they know not to touch you there." Ji-an's mouth drops open as you slide a thigh between hers. "Because this is what happens." You push it up against the apex of her thighs, feeling just how wet she is and watching her squirm.

"Ah…"

"One more run through the script, you said?"

"Just shut up and get in me." She kisses you, tugging on your lower lip not too gently as she works your boxers down. You slide her drenched panties down her legs, and easily you slip into her, both of you gasping at the sensation. You and Ji-an engage in wordless passion, her eyes glassy and dazed as you pump into her, moaning with every dip of your hips against hers. You place a hand over her neck, right over the spot where you nipped her earlier, and she tightens around you substantially.

"God!" Her head lolls back, keening into your hand, and you keep at it, massaging and palming that spot, and Ji-an's mind is in a haze of pleasure, like you're overriding all coherent thought. Her nails dig into your back, pulling you closer and whimpering as she wraps her legs around you. "It feels so good!" she squeals before shutting her eyes, letting her orgasm take over. You groan as she tightens around you significantly, but she has the wherewithal to tap your shoulder.

"W-Wait! Don't cum!" She shivers as the last few waves wash through her, but you do manage to listen to her, breathing heavily as you hold off your own.

"What?"

"Two seconds!" Wobbly-legged she hurries to the bathroom before coming back out. Before you can say anything she's back on the bed, kneeling to take you in her mouth. Your moan is hitched as you feel something cold on the underside of your shaft. You can see the smile in her eyes at your reaction, and she sucks you even more vigorously, her tongue twirling around your shaft.

"God Ji-an, what—" She pulls back, all the way to the tip, and with only your head between her lips she moves it back back and forth, the hard and cold friction going straight up your spine. With a loud moan you buck your hips and cum. Ji-an keeps her tongue over your head, playing with your tip as she collects your load. You shiver as she keeps her lips around your shaft, the coldness on the underside persistent as she pulls back with deliberate slowness.

She's smiling again at you, this time with a lip ring right in the middle.

"What is that?"

"Lip ring, part of my look for the show." She smiles and takes it off easily. "Thought it might be interesting."

"I'll say, make sure you get to keep it after you're done filming."

"They'll definitely let me keep it if I tell them what I used it for."

"You're horrible!" You cuddle her after getting all your clothes back in their right places. "Make sure you die fast."

"Wow and I'm the horrible one?"

"In the show, so we can spend more time together! You gotta let me finish."

"Oh I will, I have the secret weapon now." You massage the freshly patched up spot on Ji-an's neck, chuckling as she squirms and twitches.

"That makes two of us."

A/N: Something short for her, kinda like my Jung Hoyeon one from Squid Game 1 lol, she is mad pretty and charming, both her and Park Gyu-young (No-eul). Of course there's Jo Yuri also but i'll write her some other time. Thanks for reading!

[jjkarmy091]

Second Best- Jungkook (part 8 )

Summary: Being friends with someone who has your heart it’s already hard, let alone when that special someone ends up falling in love with your best friend, the one you think would never make anything to hurt you . Will you be able to ignore it and move on? what will happen when everything gets too much for you to handle?

Genre: Friends to lovers; angst; body insecurities; bullying; friend betrayel;

Pairing: Jungkook x female!reader

Wordcount: 5.781

Author's note: It took me a lot but here it is. Got so many blocks writting this and I'm not satified with it. It doesn't matter how many time I write and rewrite it, it feels like it's never good enough but I tried my best so please go easy on me. Hope you like it and let me know if you want a next chapter or not. Also: I'm sorry for any mistakes

Love you loads <3

When Y/n woke up the next morning she could swear her head was gonna fall off. It was one of those headaches it makes you wanna clung onto the bedsheets and never leave ‘till the next day. Flashbacks of the night before went through her brain but she brushed them off. She wanted to enjoy the few days she had taken, yet she’s still thinking about the same. She thought she was doing a good job but Taehyung’s words didn’t really help too, she definitely was going to face Sewoon with all these facts. Y/n always chose kindness over anything else but would all of that have gotten her anywhere? Looking back, she had serious doubts about that. 

Getting up from the bed and heading to the bathroom she notices everything is still very quiet which means Lisa is still asleep. Y/n wants to do something nice for her so she decides to make a huge breakfast once she knows that food is Lisa's undoing and starts preparing things without making too much noise (or at least trying to). Everything’s almost ready when Y/n listens to steps aproaching the kitchen/living room area as she pours some orange juice in Lisa’s cup saying good morning. Lisa looks at her and smiles, answering her back and sitting down.  

“what’s all this?”  

“It’s just a way to thank you for being such a great person to me. I know I've been hard to handle these last days but I want you to know that I truly feel grateful for everything you’ve done for me so far. If it wasn’t for you I don’t know how things would’ve ended up for me, I’d probably be crying in my room, thinking how much I suck because the guy I’m in love with doesn’t love me back” 

“I told you Y/n, it’s completely fine. I always liked you. You bring such a positive vibe and you’re so kind and fun to be around. It’s good to be around you and if I can help you somehow I will.” A few minutes of silence passed until Lisa asked what she was dying to know. “Did you talk to him?” Y/n stops suddenly, swallows hard and shakes her head.  

“No” 

“care to explain why?” 

“I’ve been thinking about your words and you’re right! I have to stop being a pussy and be real with myself and my feelings, not for others but for me. All this mess started because I'm always comparing myself to others all the time. I was so scared that Sewoon and Jungkook would meet and I was the bridge for them to start something. I allowed this. If only I wasn't so afraid and had more confidence in myself maybe it would be me in Sewoon's place and that kills me inside Lisa. For once in my life it would have been simple and sincere and I'm the only one to blame for this."

"What makes you think he was never interested in you Y/n? Because from what you told me it seemed to me that he was quite into you” 

"He definitely wasn't Lisa, you're confusing things. He found my attitude towards him funny when we first met, I don't know. But he never showed any signs, he never said anything and I was afraid of destroying the friendship we were building by saying something. He even used to go on dates. At the end he would go to the coffee shop and we would talk about it and stuff.” 

Lisa frowned “So he went on dates but never hooked up with them afterwards? a boy in his prime, with basic needs and would always come to you afterwards? You never found anything weird?” 

“For what he told me he had just gotten out of a complicated relationship. I think he was more interested in meeting new people, go out for a bit, clear his head.” 

“and come back to you in the end” Lisa mocks while Y/n throws a piece of bread at her, hitting her in the forehead. “Don’t be annoying” 

“Y/n you may not understand much about boys but I do and that's not normal for someone who don't have feelings for you. At best, he would go home.” Y/n drank some of her juice. "stop it! if that was true he wouldn't have gone straight to my supposed best friend. Why would he do that if he was interested in me?  The way he looked at her, how he said she was the best thing that ever happened to him and that he would never be able to love anyone the way he loves her. Not to mention what he did for Sewoon. She told me some things and all I could think about was how I wish it was me instead. I hoped it was me but I'm a coward, that's why I'm still here, 23 years old and a virgin. Even in that regard, Sewoon was lucky.” Y/n looks at her plate, trying to avoid eye contact with Lisa, knowing that would be enough to make her start crying but kept talking

“How she described the way he touched her, grabbed her, how he -- in short, everything. There was this one time she couldn't stop talking about how and where they did it so I invented that I was super busy and couldn't talk so she could leave and I could cry in peace. I swore never again.” 

“After everything Tae told you do you still think things are as Sewoon says?” Y/n didn’t answer, instead she got up and started taking the dishes onto the table, washing them. Lisa got up too, leaving her plate in the sink "always listen to things with a hint of doubt but specially with your heart." Y/n decided to change the subject. 

“What are we doing today?” Lisa laughed “let’s introduce you to this place the right way. See something else than snowboards” With this they got ready for the day. Lisa already knew the place with the palm of her hands so she knew what and where to go with Y/n.  

Even tho her mind was still in another place she actually found herself enjoying their time there. She enjoyed it so much that she didn't even notice the days passing by until the day for them to leave had arrived. Although the first days were complicated now she didn't mind staying another day or two but there were things to fix that she was eager to mend and she wouldn't find the so needed peace she wanted until everything was cleared up.

On their last day there Lisa suggested to go for a hot chocolate where they found Tae and his friend once again. They saw each other a lot during their staying and ended up clearing everything up and agreed that Sewoon was a NO topic. That night they went to a club all together and Y/n remembers having so much fun and getting so drunk that she ended up on top of Tae's friend. (Not the way you guys are thinking, pervs ;)

Y/n already had too much to drink and once they were stepping out of the club she tripped and Tae's friend was there and tried to hold her only for Y/n to bring him down with her. All of them laughed and they even took a picture of them both on the floor in a suspicious position. She just hoped any of it would end up on social media, at least for now because she knew either Sewoon or Jungkook would see it, but of course things never go the way she wanted them too. On their way home Y/n got a notification on instagram saying Taehyung tagged her in a photo so she opened it and saw a set of pictures, the first being Y/n, Lisa, Tae and his friend with drinks on their hands and Tae's arm around Y/n's waist and the second just a photo of Y/n and Tae making a funny face among with other random pics with the caption “Glad to see an old flame again. Loved these days with the best people. Let's repeat it next year” Fuck

She still had two days before going back to work and a few hours' journey ahead of her and the last thing she wanted was to end these wonderful days in an anxiety attack at an airport far from home because of a set of pictures.

It was a peaceful trip, they both took the opportunity to sleep and rest during the flight since when they arrived they had a lot to do. Y/n agreed to move to Lisa's house just as she had proposed. One night before going to sleep she spoke with her landlord and canceled the lease so she had little time to organize her stuff and take them to Lisa's. As soon as the plane landed they looked at each other and smiled, grabbed their things and slowly walked out of the airport where Lisa's father was waiting for them. As soon as they got into the car, Lisa said 

“I'm sad it's over but I'm happy we're getting home. I honestly love traveling but the moment I get to my space and make myself comfortable at home is always the best of all. Speaking of it, we still have to get your things. How about we go to my house, unpack, have lunch and then pack the rest of your stuff? Unless you're tired”

“I agree with you Liz, nothing feels better than the comfort of home, and yes, I was thinking the same. I still have two days before going back to work so I have to make the most of it. Right now, i just really want to eat I’m starving and I can’t function without food” They both laugh. Lisa asked her father to turn on the radio and as soon as he did, Tate mcrae's new song started to play. Needless to say they started singing with all their power until they arrived at Lisa's house. Y/n didn't remember having that much fun, not even with Sewoon and she had known her for years.  

After arriving at the place, her father said goodbye to them and left their bags at the front door so they could unpack them. They decided to order Taco Bell and while they waited for food and for the washing machine to stop, they sat down on the sofa. Y/n was looking at her phone until she heard herself say 

“I don’t know what to do” Lisa gets confused and kept her silence in order for Y/n to say something else, getting comfy on the couch. It took her a while to speak again.

“I-  we got back to reality and I can't ignore the fact that I never spoke to Jungkook again ever since that day. It's making me nervous because my mind is racing 1000 percent, I mean, imagine he no longer wants to talk to me or listen to what I have to say.. In hindsight I should have said something to him but I was so hurt. Furthermore, I received a message from Sewoon asking what the hell I was doing with Tae without telling her. Let's just say it wasn’t a very nice message. What should I do Lisa?” 

“First of all breath Y/n. Being like this won't get you anywhere. Second: I honestly think you should send a text to Jungkook, tell him that you need to talk to him and that you know that ignoring him wasn't the right choice but that there are a lot of things he doesn't know and that it's difficult to explain. Ask him to meet, preferably in a place other than your work because it will draw a lot of attention on you. You still have time to get back to work, make the most of it before - " Before Lisa finished, the washing machine was heard making its characteristic sound and Lisa apologized and said she'd be right back while Y/n continued sitting on the sofa looking stupidly at her phone. Lisa was right, she couldn’t drag this anymore.

“Hi Jungkook, how are you? I hope you’re doing well. I’m doing good. I know i probably kept you up at night, or maybe you didn’t even think of me but still I’m writting this to give you some heads up on why I disappeared the way I did. Truth is, I had a lot going on these last few months and I know that’s not an excuse and I was on the wrong for not replying to your texts but honestly I didn’t know what else to do. I was in a real mess. I still am and the way I thought it was possible to get out of this chaos inside my mind was to escape my reality and move away. I'm sorry, I know I should have said something but I'm ready to explain everything to you now, if you still want to.  

I love you.” 

During the rest of the day Lisa helped Y/n move her things to her new place. The fact that she didn’t have a lot of things made it easier. After that, they went grocery shopping and ended up passing by Y/n’s work and decided to walk in being greeted for her co-worker Sana 

“Ohh well well well. Who do we have here? Good evening lady and welcome back! thought you’d never show your face around here again. I already miss you, how are you doing? And most importantly, when will you return? I'm so tired of putting up with the boss alone, everyday he gets more and more annoying” She says making Y/n and Lisa laugh. 

“It’s been wonderful having some days to actually rest, sad to see it end” Yn says with a smile. “How’s it going around here?” 

“Pretty much the same you know. Had your really hot friend coming over everyday at the same hour he used to come. I guess he didn’t believe me when I told him you took some days off. Weird you didn’t, you guys were so close and were together all the time I thought you’d end up together after he broke things off with Sewoon. The last time I saw him was two days ago with her actually. They came here together.” Y/n’s heart stopped for a second and she had a hard time breathing all of a sudden 

“Together how?”  

“Like I said they came in here together, sat at that table over there and chatted for a while. It was a very busy shift and I was alone here so I couldn’t see or hear a lot. When it calmed down I looked at them, Jungkook was holding her hand and saying something to her while she looked like she was crying or about to. Then I couldn't understand anything else because several customers came in at the same time. When I noticed, he was already coming to pay and Sewoon was at the entrance waiting for him. That day he didn't say anything, he looked somewhere behind me but didn't speak, he just smiled, paid and left but I couldn’t see if he went alone or with her. I’m sorry”  

Of course this was going to happen, all she had to do was disappear for a few days and they wouldn't waste time getting on top of each other. She was so stupid. Was she really worthless? Lisa looked at her worriedly but didn't say anything, simply ordered two drinks while Y/n thanked her and looked out the window. If she had known, she would have enjoyed the trip even more without thinking about those two. She felt bad about leaving Jungkook in a vacuum and he was very much entertained. She always had a tiny bit of hope but what for? Sana had left to prepare their order when Lisa spoke 

“Don't pay attention to it Y/n. It could be many things, you don't know. If he really was with her why was he always coming over and asking about you?” 

“Because that’s what friends are supposed to do Lisa! They worry about each other, which makes sense given how I left the club that night and the fact that I didn't say anything to him in the following days made him think that something bad had happened to me. Everything friendship based.. Maybe that's why he didn't answer me, because he's with her. Sewoon must have shown him the photos we took with Tae on vacation. He was sure I was okay so he moved on with her, again.  

Lisa didn't have the chance to say anything because their order was given to them and they said goodbye to Sana and made their way to the car. Lisa started driving and to get home they had to pass by Y/n's old house. As they approached the road Y/n saw someone she knew very well, Sewoon and next to her was Jungkook in front of her old appartment. As if they could see her, Y/n leaned as far back as she could against the seat.  

""Lisa, for all that is most sacred to you, please don't stop here, don't look, don't do anything other than move as quickly as possible. Don’t ask me anything just go!" 

Always the second, never the chosen, as always. 

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

As they get to their now shared apartment Y/n tells Lisa that she's not hungry and if she doesn't mind she's going to rest because it was a very long day and that tomorrow is the last day and she wants to take the opportunity to organize the rest of her things and relax. Lisa says she doesn't mind at all, that she also feels the same and is going to rest, specially because the next day she has a last minute meeting.

Y/n tried to make Lisa not notice it but she's not stupid. As she drove past Y/n's old building she saw the silhouettes that bothered her so much and all she had to do was put two and two together upon seeing her reaction. The only thing she wanted was to park and give Sewoon a good slap and tell her everything she had been holding back so far.  

After getting home both went to their rooms. Y/n couldn’t get any sleep. She tossed and turned but sleep was far away.  Y/n looked at her phone and still no text or call from Jungkook. Why was she stupid and sent him a text? Clearly he wasn't worried at all, not even an "ok" he had responded. Suddenly she felt her eyes blurry and that was when she realized the tears rolling down her cheeks. She thought she was worth more, even if it was just in terms of friendship. After some time lost in her own thoughts, she decided to put on her headphones and try to get some sleep and managed to do so after a few hours. 

The next day, when she woke up it felt like she had been hit by a bus. Lisa had also gone out to deal with some matters at work, at least she remembered mentioning something about it. Once alone, Y/n had decided to stay in bed. Honestly she wasn't in the mood to do anything else and wanted to take to relax since she was going back to work the next day. Willingness? none. It was going to be hard but the way things were going neither Jungkook nor Sewoon were going to show up there or so she thought.

The next day her alarm went off and Y/n got ready for the day. She was going to do a double shift today since Sana was off, so she was on her own. For some reason she was nervous, it seemed like it was her first day again so her anxiety was on the roof. 

As incredible as it may seem, as soon as she arrived she saw her regular customers greeting her and telling her how much they missed her (most of them elderly people who used to frequent the shop even before she worked there and who had loved her since her first day) relaxed her immediately. Everything went very well. During her break Lisa went to see her and they chatted and drank coffee before going back to do the other part of the shift. Until then, everything was going perfectly. No sign of people she didn't want to see, she hadn't had any rude customers and her boss was in a very good mood. It was all too good to be true since luck is not something that goes on her side. 

Y/n was getting ready to close the shop and at that point she was usually alone. She was putting the chairs on the table when she heard the entrance bell signal that someone else was there with her. When she turned to inform the customer that they were closed, she came across someone she didn't want or even expeected to see.

In front of her was Jungkook with wet hair and helmet in hand. He seemed agitated, confused and angry. Very angry. Y/n couldn't help but notice the dark circles under his eyes as if he hadn't slept in days. She stopped on the spot, what would she say or do? They hadn't seen or spoken to each other for almost a week and the atmosphere was tense and she just wanted to disappear. 

He looked at her with such an intense gaze that she had to turn away while saying "we are closed" and pretended to keep doing what she was doing. 

"Really? After days of complete silence while i was worried sick about you. After leaving without any kind of warning? After that stupid fight on the club and sudden departure with someone that neither Sewoon nor I knew, that's all you have to tell me? we are closed? Are you for real?” 

Y/n stopped doing what she was doing but kept her back to him. It’s a good thing he couldn't see her because her hands were like jelly, shaking so much that she thought she was going to faint right there, however continued to act tough and ignored him, took a deep breath and started walking to the counter until she felt a hand grab her arm.  

“Y/n please stop shitting me. I’ve been going crazy these last few days because of you and you act like you don't care. I don't know what's worse, your attitude or the fact that I don't recognize you at all" and with these words Y/n turned around and looked at him with tears threatening to fall. She released herself from Jungkook's hand and turned completely towards him. She was on the verge of bursting. 

“You. Out of all people YOU are the only one who can't say that. I did everything for you Jungkook. I was always there for you when you needed me, remember? I knew when you were good, when you were sad, when it wasn't the best time to talk and when you wanted to say something but didn't know how. You needed me and I was there but when it was the other way around, were you there for me? Did you care at all?” she sighed “All this because I didn't answer to some calls and texts from you? You were so worried about me that you were always tied to Sewoon, don't tell me you were also worried about me when you were inside her. Be honest Jungkook, you only remembered me when it suited you. Admit it, when it comes to me you don't think twice." 

Jungkook didn't say anything, he looked at her as if she had just stuck a knife into him. He expected everything but this version of Y/n. He had noticed for some time she was different but he never asked her because he didn't want to bring up the subject that was bothering her hoping she’d be the one to open up to him yet it seems like it was a bad decision to wait. Maybe he should have talked to her when he noticed it, he knows he was stupid but he wasn't going to give in now. He was about to speak again when Y/n continued her speech.

“Things weren't supposed to be like this but everything is already ruined so what I'm about to say won't make a difference and honestly I'm tired of staying silent so as not to hurt other people and try to please them. That's why I'm in this shit right now, so here it goes.” Y/n looks him straight in the eyes and more tears run down her face, it's now or never. 

“I’m in love with you Jungkook”

As soon as the words left her mouth, a sob came out as well. This is where it ends and she knows it. His expression changed from angry to pure shock. She knew him very well, but at this moment she couldn't read his thoughts, everything was so confusing, he seemed so confused and she didn't understand why. She was breaking and to avoid even more suffering said

“Please let's not talk about this anymore. Things are pretty obvious and we don't need to drag this out any further. I need to close this Jungkook, I'm tired and I need--" 

“How long Y/n? How long have you felt this way?” Jungkook's look was anything but disappointed. It was a look she couldn't decipher and she also didn't know if she wanted to. Y/n looked down and replied 

“ A few months after we met and started hanging out more” Jungkook turned around and placed his elbows on the counter and his hands resting on his head.  

“And you never thought to tell me? Don't you think that would be a good thing to do?” he sounded so mad. “All this time you had feelings for me and you never said anything, never showed any signs and now I'm the bad guy for moving on with my life? And why you’re talking about Sewoon? We broke things off a long time ago and you know it. You were there!” 

“Ohh please Jungkook, anything but that. I'm not blaming you for anything, in fact, I even supported you, remember ? it was ME who introduced you to Sewoon  because YOU wanted me to! Even if I told you earlier what would change? Every time you came to me it was either because you just had a dinner date or someone had asked for your number. You love to say I'm always on your mind, I guess that I wasn’t on it those nights. I'm just the girl you would share things with and ask for advice, you don't have to be very smart to see that.” 

“Is that why you left without saying anything?” Y/n looked at him and when he saw that he wasn't getting a response, he went to her and got so close that she could see all the moles on his face, some that she hadn't even realized he had.  

“Y/n answer me. It's the least I deserve.” Even though there was some distance between them, Y/n felt trapped so she decided to move away a little, hitting her back on the counter. 

“Yes. After our conversation at the club and the way I saw you look at Sewoon I realized that there was no chance for me, not that I didn't already know, but I got the confirmation that day and the way you were more interested in going to her than hearing me confirmed my guesses once again, yet it was when you went to her and you kissed in the middle of all those people that my heart was left in pieces. I looked at you and instead of being happy that my best friend was back with the girl he's in love with, I just wished it was me in her place. I had to get out of there before everyone saw me break." Y/n cleaned some tears that were running down

"In Sewoon's eyes I'm already pathetic, but in yours? I preferred to die than to know you had that image of me. I went to the bathroom and that's when I met a friend from school, we ended up talking and exchanging contacts. She asked me if I wanted a ride and I took the opportunity to leave, that's when you found me. That night I spent at her house and she made me an offer and invited me to go traveling with her. For my mental health I accepted and only God knows what it cost me not to have said anything to you and I'm really sorry for that, I know it wasn't the right thing to do, but Jungkook you didn't care either because when I texted you back you never answered me. You can't judge my actions after having done the same thing.”

“You could never be pathetic y/n. I've always said how much I admire the way you are and I keep praising that, I would never get that impression of you. I know you went on a trip with Lisa and two other boys, Sewoon had shown me pictures of you, that's why I don't understand Y/n, none of this adds up. And I never received any text from you because unlike you, every day I checked if you had come to work, if you sent anything or if Sewoon knew anything about you. That's the reason I was with Sewoon a lot more these last few days. It's sad that I only found out that you were back because I saw your friend here yesterday, I recognized her from those photos, so I went to her and asked her about you. She told me you were coming back to work today and to show up around this time because you'd be alone. I was crazy looking for you, wondering if you were in a dead end, that's when Sewoon called me saying you were okay, hanging with some guys you probably met there. She also sent me the pictures, that's when I calmed down.”

Y/n didn't know which part made her more shocked, if the fact that Lisa spoke to Jungkook or knowing Sewoon sent the photos to him and omitted the fact that they both know the boy in question.

"Oh my god. After all this time Sewoon is still keeping you in the dark. Well just so you know the guy who posted the pictures is Sewoons ex-boyfriend, the one she left you for. Remember when she broke up with you? Yeah it was because of him. There are definitely things you should clarify with her, as she changes everything that corresponds to reality. Things that don't concern me at all and to be honest I'm tired of this conversation, it doesn't matter anymore. Things happened and it's ove, so if you don't mind it was a complicated day --” She didn't expect Jungkook to get so close to her but the truth is that they were centimeters away from each other and that was making her even more nervous and uncomfortable. She tried to get around him but he put his arms on either side of Y/n's body, trapping her there.  

"Did it work? Did you forget about me there? Did any of those guys help you forget me?”  Y/n had no response, she was completely surrendered to looking between his eyes and lips. She wasn't brave enough to grab him and kiss him, specially since he was still fooling around with Sewoon or so she thought, even tho the denied it. Still she wouldn't feel good doing that even if Sewoon hadn't been the best friend, so she did what she does best, avoided the interaction.  

“"I had fun and regardless of things I don't owe you any kind of explanation. I finally learned my lesson and you're not the exception, Jungkook. You're the rule and I don't give second chances to get me hurt, not even to you. I don't want to continue in this agony every time I see you and ask myself why others and not me? It took me a long time to get there but I finally managed to understand that as long as I don't like and accept myself as I am, neither will others and for that reason I ask you not to come here again. This is a closed subject and one that I want to bury.”  

“We’re not done having this conversation Y/n, I have to tell you some-”  

“Yes we are Jungkook, don’t you get it? I just told you I’m in love with you. My best friend who’s in love with my other best friend, who's still into her ex boyfriend. Did you even hear what I said about Sewoon?"

" I don't care about Sewoon,Y/n. Don't you fucking get it? All this time the only person on my mind was you. I tried really hard not to call you because why would I need to know where you were or who you were with. In your eyes I dated your best friend but in my eyes the only thing that connected me to her was you."

"Lisa has been fixing something she didn’t break because of how weak I was to stand for myself. I’m tired of being this innocent and naive girl everyone can step on. I'm not blaming you Jungkook, you didn't know and things turned out this way and it's okay. It's over and I think it's the best for you and me. I’ll be here if you need something but right now I don’t want to be around you. I need to fix myself before being there for you or Sewoon again and if you really care about me you’ll respect that” 

“Y/n, you're not understanding I--"

“Please Jungkook, just go. Let me do this for me and maybe we can talk about this in the future and laugh about it.” He didn't say anything else, he swallowed hard, shook his head, picked up his helmet and left, slamming the door loudly and that's when y/n collapsed. 

"I love you Jungkook. I love you so much but I can't be your second option." Y/n said as she slid down the wall, succumbing to the pain of something she never had.

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tags: @esposadomd @joonlover1207 @eegyo @furrywonderlandwolf @minghaosimp @differentrunawayperson @nikkinikj @jksusawife @jk97bam @cryingoverpixelsetc @bhonbhon @lostinneocity @almostpurplelady @meowforluv @imagine-this-motherfucker @jk-190811 @cryingoverpixelsetc @11thenightwemet11 @rinkud @ayatie97 @jk-190811 @shaku1995

[haveihitanerve]

It was a lesson that was, as most lesson were in Gotham, learned the hard way.

"Down!" Bruce bellowed. Dick moved. But not fast enough. He looked. He didn't flinch. He hesitated, he didn't act. He doubted. He should have trusted.

Something slammed into his side, hard and small and painful, ripping apart his muscles and shredding tendons. That was the day he learned what getting shot felt like.

He sacked to the floor, finally, hands pawing uselessly at his side as he wailed in pain.

Bruce was at his side in an instant, and they got home so fast it was most definitely illegal. It never happened again.

"Drop!" Bruce called. Dick hit the floor. He was up a second later, the sharp stinging smell of gunpowder still in the air. But the bullet had disappeared. Missed. Speared into the wall.

"On your left!" Green Lantern cried, swinging his arm around, the massive hand he'd crafted with his ring spearing forward. Nightwing glanced over, used the second to ground himself, and lunged away. To the right.

"You've gotta trust me in the field." Hal complained later. "It's no use for me to call out orders just for you to check yourself." Nightwing dipped his head. Acquiescing , but not an apology. Not agreeing. Not a promise.

"Twelve o'clock!" Batman barked. Nightwing didn't even let his eyes stray, just moved, rolling away from the incoming stampede of aliens.

"What the fuck?" Hal mouthed to Barry, but the speedster had hardly a chance to shrug back before he was off to take the incoming wave.

So he waited instead until after the battle, waited until everyone was safe and back the Watchtower to advance on the young hero.

"Hey man, what the fuck is up with you?" He probably should have kept his voice down a little, but the anger had been building, and honestly, what was up with him? Disobeying Hal's orders, just to drop at the first sound from Batman's lips? Wasn't cool, wasn't fair.

Nightwing glanced up in surprise from where he was sitting on the table, patching his arm, and so did about half the League. Batman, in particular, was watching, white lenses narrowed, but didn't approach.

"I get that Bats is super cool and all that," Hal waved a dismissive arm. "But when I shout orders in the field, you're expected to follow them. Same as everyone else."

He glanced over at Batman. "No offense Batsy." he returned focus to the man in front of him. "But you don't get to pick and choose who's orders you follow kid. Not here."

"Actually I do." Nightwing answered, and, damn, Hal hadn't expected that. An apology maybe, maybe a little bit of arguing, but not a flat out refusal. The young hero didn't even bother to lower his voice or anything. Didn't even attempt to look cowed.

"You're different Hal. You're a Lantern. I'm not." his finger thrust in Batman's direction. "He's not." Hal cocked his head, frowning. "Yeah, I don't obey your orders immediately. I don't automatically trust what you call to me. Because you're. not. human. Maybe you were, once, before you got the ring. But you're not anymore. You're not on the field."

He gestured at Batman, to himself. "We deal with threats on the daily. In the streets. On the field. You're a brilliant man, I know you are. But you're not thinking for me."

He held up his hand before Hal could argue that of course he was. "You try." He agreed easily. "But you don't. Not really." He cocked his head, struggling to come up with an example.

"Lets say this; you're a cat, and I'm a dog." Hal pulled back, face twisting at the strange comparison, but Nightwing gestured to let him finished. Hal relented.

"You, as a cat, order me to drop to the ground. Because you, as a cat, know that if you drop, you'll land on your feet." Superman was nodding, following his train of thought. Hal was still a little lost, but Nightwing wasn't finished yet, so he was okay.

"But let's say that drop is fifty feet. And I'm a dog. Dogs don't land on their feet. That drop can kill me. You didn't account for that, no matter what you might think." He shrugged, glancing over at Batman, who was puffed up a little, with pride.

"He's a dog. Like me. And he thinks like a cat, like you. He accounts for that. So yeah," Nightwing shrugged, hopping from the table, and took a few steps forward. Hal stumbled back.

"I don't follow your orders immediately. I chance a look. I risk a second of disobeying your orders in order to ensure it won't kill me. Won't do more harm than good. But I still follow your orders."

He glanced over at Batman, a small smile tugging at his lips.

"And sure, I follow Batman's orders immediately." He shrugged, heading over to the older hero, smile evident in his voice.

"But what do you expect? He's my Dad."

but yeah in the same vein of Bruce’s kids only following his orders in the field…of course they do. in Gotham, if you don’t hit the deck when Bruce says “Down!” you’re getting hurt, at bare minimum. there’s no questioning orders or hesitating. you have to trust that when B tells you to do something, it’s in your best interest, or in the best interest of the civilians, to do it — and do it really fucking well. really fucking fast.

that doesn’t mean the JL give orders in the same way, even though they’re well-intentioned. that doesn’t mean they fully grasp an emergency scene or its civilians’ needs. they might not realize how risky an order they, as a meta, give to a fully human vigilante is. they’re not a tactician the way Bruce is — they’re not thinking in plans, and backup plans, and fallback plans and extractions.

so yeah, Dick doesn’t take direct orders from anyone but B. of course he doesn’t.

[kirammanswifey]

how arcane characters would deal with mental disorders x fem reader

characters: viktor, jinx, vi, caitlyn, jayce, ekko, silco, mel and sevika.

writer's note: writing this felt like giving myself a warm hug, a comfort that i needed. if anyone reading this is going through or has gone through any of these disorders, i want to tell you that you are very brave because it is not an easy thing, so feel proud of yourself. i hope you liked this as much as i did. as i'm a psychology student, i felt very motivated and i hope that it was quite understandable and enjoyable. as you already know request are open ;)

P.S. i know the other option won in the poll on my profile, but i need more time to refine the ideas and make something high quality that everyone will love, which i’ll be posting tomorrow ;)

Viktor Depression

The world around you feels like a constant weight, a heavy blanket that wraps around you, not letting you breathe. You wake up each day with a sense of emptiness in your chest, as if a black hole is absorbing all your energy, your motivation, your ability to feel anything other than sadness and apathy.

It’s not that you don’t want to get out of bed; it’s that the simple act of moving a finger feels like a titanic task. Fatigue is your constant companion, a shadow that never leaves you. Things that once filled you with joy now seem distant, irrelevant, as if they belonged to a life that is no longer yours.

The dark thoughts are your constant whispers, reminding you that you’re not enough, that it’s all pointless, that there’s no way out. Sometimes, you cry without knowing why; other times, you want to cry, but even that you can’t do. You feel trapped in an invisible prison, with no strength to fight your way out.

Viktor watches you from the doorway of your room, his gaze soft and full of concern. He knows the weight of shadows well, although his are different. Silently, he approaches and sits on the edge of the bed, not invading your space, but close enough for you to feel his presence.

“I have a new project I’m working on,” he says in a quiet voice, trying not to break the fragile bubble of your world. “I thought maybe you could join me today. You don’t have to do anything, just be there. Your company always helps me think.”

He doesn’t pressure you. Viktor understands that words can be hard to find when your mind is clouded by depression. He knows that the solution isn’t to force you to feel better, but to be with you, to offer you a hand, a small step forward.

He gently rises and offers his hand, not expecting you to take it, but hoping that you’ll know he’s there, ready to support you when you’re ready. “The world can wait,” he murmurs. “But I’m here, whenever you want to come back.”

His patience is infinite, his understanding deep. Viktor doesn’t try to fix you, because he doesn’t see you as broken. He knows that depression is a battle you fight every day, and he’s willing to walk alongside you, every small step, every shared silence.

You look at his hand, then his face; he’s concerned even though he tries to hide it. You make a huge effort to get out of bed, and even though your body doesn’t cooperate at first, you manage. You take his hand and gently squeeze it; that’s the most affection you can give him right now, you’re exhausted.

“Let’s go,” you murmur, your voice hoarse and broken; it’s the first time you’ve spoken all day.

You’re sitting next to Viktor in his small workshop, surrounded by pieces of metal and unfinished prototypes. He’s explaining his latest invention, a spark of enthusiasm lighting up his eyes. You feel a little better, enough to enjoy his company, and for a moment, a laugh escapes your lips when you hear one of his stories.

“Did you really say that to Heimerdinger?” you laugh, your eyes shining with a spark of life. It’s a small moment, but for Viktor, it’s like seeing the sun rise after a storm.

He smiles, pleased to have made you laugh. “Yes, and his face... It was certainly indescribable,” he replies with a softness that reflects his pleasure at seeing you enjoy yourself, even if just for an instant.

But suddenly, without warning, the laughter turns into a lump in your throat. The spark of joy fades as quickly as it came, and you find yourself trapped in a wave of overwhelming sadness. The tears start rolling down your cheeks, and you can’t stop them. The confusion in your eyes is evident, as if your body has betrayed the fleeting happiness you just felt.

Viktor notices immediately. He leans toward you, his expression turning serious, but his eyes remain warm and full of understanding. He doesn’t ask questions, doesn’t seek explanations that may be impossible to give. Instead, he moves a little closer, offering you his silent presence.

“It’s okay,” he says gently, his voice an anchor amidst your internal storm. “You don’t have to explain it. Just breathe.”

He offers you his hand, this time with more intent. You take it, feeling the warmth and firmness in his grip, a reminder that you’re not alone in this moment. You needed that contact. You needed to know that you could feel something other than sadness right now. Viktor doesn’t pull away, doesn’t feel uncomfortable. He knows that depression doesn’t follow rules, that it can strike at any moment, and he’s willing to stay with you, no matter how long it lasts.

“Do you want us to stay here?” he asks, his tone delicate. “Or we can walk a little, if that helps.”

His willingness to adapt to your needs wraps you in a sense of safety. Even though the tears keep falling, Viktor’s presence is a balm, a reminder that, even in the darkest moments, there’s someone who sees you, who understands you, and who’s willing to stay by your side.

“Just... stay here with me,” you say, letting yourself fall against his body, exhausted.

He caught you and wrapped you with care, it was a hug with the right amount of strength.

“Take your time, darling. I won’t go anywhere,” Viktor promised in a whisper, never stopping the caresses on your back.

And that was enough to make you feel less miserable.

Jinx Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD)

The echo of the explosions still resonates in your mind, even though years have passed since that day when your world crumbled. The night everything you loved was consumed by flames in an attack on the Undercity. The night you lost your family and were left alone, with the screams and the smell of smoke forever etched in your memory.

As you walk beside Jinx through the bustling streets of Zaun, everything seems normal, almost calm, until an explosion in the distance makes your heart stop. It’s a dry, loud sound, far too similar to the one you heard that night. Without warning, your breath becomes shallow, your lungs struggle to take in air, and an overwhelming sense of absolute panic takes hold of you.

Your body freezes, and it feels as if the world around you disappears. The crowd, the lights, even Jinx—all fade away, leaving you alone in that dark place where time doesn’t move. The ground beneath your feet seems to give way, and you feel yourself falling again into that abyss of the past.

"Hey, hey!" Jinx’s voice cuts through the fog in your mind. Her hands grip your shoulders, and her gaze searches for yours with desperation. "You’re not there, do you hear me? You’re here, with me."

Her words feel distant, but the warmth of her hands somehow anchors you, reminding you that you’re not alone. "But... the sound..." you murmur, barely audible, as tears start to fall down your cheeks. "It was the same... the same as that night."

Jinx guides you to a quieter corner, away from the noise, holding your hand firmly. "Breathe, hon, like we always do," she says softly, her voice tinged with controlled urgency. "Fill up those lungs, okay? Like we’re balloons."

You try to follow her instructions, but every time you close your eyes to concentrate, the images of that night hit you with renewed force. "It’s not working," you whisper, trembling. "It’s always there. No matter how much I try, it doesn’t go away. It doesn’t go away!" You scream in panic, the fingers of your hands stiffening, making them immobile.

The worry in Jinx’s eyes softens a little, but there’s something else there, something you can only describe as recognition. "That explosion... it reminded me of something too," she says after a moment, her voice quieter, almost a whisper. "I’ve been there, in that fucked-up place, where the ghosts never stop screaming."

Her words are like a key that opens the door to a deeper understanding.

She falls silent for a moment, gazing into the distance before refocusing her attention on you. "When I have my attacks, you’re always there for me, and I remember I’m not alone. That helps me a lot," she admits, a small, almost sad smile curving her lips. "And you’re not alone either, hon. We’re not broken, just a little bent. And here we are, bent together."

The hug she offers you is warm and firm, a tangible reminder that you’re not alone. You feel her strength, her determination, and something else: her own fear, her own struggle. "You don’t have to fight alone," she whispers, her voice a promise. "If you ever feel like you’re going to fall, we’ll fall together. And then, we’ll rise. Always."

You cling to her like a lifeline, letting her warmth and her words anchor you to the present, if only for a moment. "Thank you, sweets," you whisper, allowing yourself, for the first time in a long time, to feel that it’s okay not to be okay.

Vi Anxiety Disorder

The night drags you into the abyss of your mind, but you find no respite. Instead of waking softly to the day, you're trapped in pure panic. Your chest burns, each breath a lost battle. Your heart gallops wildly, as if trying to escape your chest. You are drenched in sweat, the sheets sticking to your skin, becoming yet another prison.

Your eyes snap open, the darkness of the room seems to close in on you, and the silence is deafening. The sensation of suffocation consumes you. You try to gulp down air, but it's as though your lungs have forgotten how to function. Your hands search for something, anything, to anchor you to reality, but all they find is emptiness.

The door swings open abruptly, and Vi stands there, alert, her eyes filled with concern. She doesn't need to ask what’s wrong; she knows instantly. She moves swiftly but carefully, approaching you without frightening you further.

"Breathe with me," she says gently, her hands finding yours, steady yet comforting. "Inhale through your nose... like this... and exhale through your mouth."

You try to follow her, but your body won’t cooperate. Your breath is shallow, frantic, as though every breath disintegrates before it even reaches your lungs. Tears begin to streak down your cheeks, mixing with the sweat.

"Vi... I can’t... I can't... I’m scared," you stammer, your words broken by sobs. Your mind is caught in a loop of terror, every thought spiraling downward, taking you further away from calm.

Vi sits beside you on the bed, her voice low and constant. "Don’t be afraid. Listen to my voice. I’m here with you, and I won’t let anything bad happen to you." Her tone is firm, anchoring you in the present, pulling you out of the tide of your own fear.

"But it hurts... my chest... I can't breathe..." Your body trembles, and your hands clutch desperately at her grasp. The feeling of control slipping away is overwhelming, leaving you feeling helpless.

Vi pulls you into an embrace, holding you close, offering her calm, her strength. "This is temporary. It won’t last forever," she whispers in your ear. "Trust me. Focus on me."

Slowly, very slowly, her voice cuts through the fog of your mind. You begin to breathe more deeply, following her rhythm, feeling how her presence stabilizes you, like a lighthouse in the storm. The pain in your chest begins to lessen, the pressure relents just a little, and your body starts to remember how to breathe without fighting.

Vi continues to speak, her voice a soft murmur, calming you with every word. "You’re strong. You have control, even if it doesn’t feel like it right now."

The tears still flow, but now they are tears of relief, not fear. "Don’t leave... don’t leave. I need you here," you whisper, your voice broken but sincere.

Vi strokes your hair, her other hand gently squeezing yours. "I’m not going anywhere, little doe," she says affectionately, kissing your forehead, tasting the salty remnants of your sweat.

You remain in her arms a moment longer, allowing yourself to rest, letting her strength hold you as you regain your own. Gradually, the panic fades, leaving only exhaustion and the certainty that Vi will always be by your side, no matter how dark the nights may get.

Caitlyn Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder (OCD)

The silence in the apartment is deafening. The only sound that breaks the stillness is the relentless ticking of the wall clock, its rhythm echoing in your ears like a hammer. You’re in the kitchen, eyes fixed on the glasses you’ve meticulously arranged in the cupboard. Each glass must be perfectly spaced, each one aligned to the exact same level. Symmetry isn’t just a preference—it’s a necessity. If something is out of place, you feel as though the whole world could collapse.

Your breathing is uneven, your chest rising and falling in quick succession. "One, two, three..." you murmur to yourself, counting each movement. Your hands tremble, but you can’t stop. You can’t stop. If you do, something terrible will happen. You don’t know what, but the certainty that it will be catastrophic clings to you like a shadow.

Caitlyn enters the apartment after a long day at work. Her expression shifts instantly when she sees you in the kitchen, trapped in your own ritual. She stops in the doorway, watching you with a mix of concern and sadness. It’s not the first time she’s found you like this, but each time, it hurts her as though it were.

"Darling?" Her voice is soft, as if afraid to shatter you. She steps closer, carefully setting her hat down on the table. "What are you doing?"

You don’t answer at first, your eyes still fixed on the glasses. "Almost done... just a few more minutes," you whisper, your voice trembling. You can’t stop. Every glass moved, every small adjustment is a battle between reason and irrational fear.

Caitlyn stops beside you, her eyes scanning the scene, seeing the perfect pattern you’ve created. "You don’t have to do this," she says gently, yet firmly.

Your hands freeze for a moment, but the urge to continue is too strong. "You don’t understand... if I don’t do it right, if they’re not perfectly aligned, something bad is going to happen." Tears begin to well up in your eyes, the pressure in your chest intensifying. "I don’t want you to think I’m crazy, but it’s like my mind... it can’t stop."

Caitlyn takes a deep breath, her hand reaching out to touch your shoulder delicately. "You’re not crazy," she says, locking eyes with you. "I know this is hard, that your mind doesn’t give you peace. But you don’t have to face it alone. Let me help you."

You turn to look at her, your eyes filled with desperation. "I can’t stop, Cait. If I do, I feel like everything will fall apart. I can’t control what’s happening inside my head."

Caitlyn nods slowly, her gaze unwavering from yours. "I know, darling. And I know this won’t be fixed in a day. But I’m here, and I’m going to stay by your side. We’ll face it together."

Her words anchor you, a beacon in the storm that is your mind. Slowly, almost against your will, your hands begin to lower, moving away from the glasses. The fear is still there, a current running just beneath the surface, threatening to overwhelm you, but Caitlyn is beside you, her presence a reminder that you’re not alone.

"Breathe with me," she says, her voice soft and steady. "Inhale... exhale... together."

You follow her instructions, though your lungs seem to resist, full of anxiety. Caitlyn guides you, her hand never leaving your shoulder. "See? We’re doing it! You’re doing it!" She encourages, kissing your neck when she notices you’ve looked away from the glasses for five seconds. It was only five seconds, but Caitlyn knew it was a huge accomplishment, and she celebrated it.

You let out a small sigh, the tension in your muscles easing slightly. Your hands travel to Caitlyn’s waist, moving her so the glasses are no longer in your line of sight. You let your head fall against her chest, breathing in her scent. It’s so much better, especially when you start counting the beats of her heart.

"How brave my wonderful and glorious girlfriend is. I’m so proud of you," she whispered, her fingers weaving through your hair as she praised you.

"Cait, I love you so much. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me," you whisper against her warm chest, unwilling to leave that comforting refuge.

Caitlyn chuckles softly, and it feels like music to your ears.

"I feel the same way, darling," Caitlyn replied, gently swaying your bodies from side to side in a small rhythm.

You know that your compulsions won’t disappear, that the need for control will remain, but with Caitlyn, you feel like you can face it one day at a time.

Jayce Narcissistic Personality Disorder

The mirror in your room is your judge, jury, and executioner. Every imperfection is a sentence, every flaw a conviction. You spend hours in front of it, adjusting, retouching, trying to reach a perfection that always seems to slip through your fingers. Your heart beats fast, not from excitement, but from the constant fear that the world will see the cracks beneath your flawless facade.

Jayce enters quietly, his presence comforting and, at the same time, a threat. What will he think? Does he notice the imperfections you see? He steps closer, his gaze soft, but you feel the weight of his eyes as if he's scrutinizing every flaw.

"Love, it's late. Come to bed," he says in a calm voice, trying to distract you from your self-destructive spiral.

"Just one more moment," you reply without looking at him, your focus still on the mirror, searching for symmetry in your features, perfection in the unattainable.

Jayce sits on the edge of the bed, watching you. "You've been here for hours. You don't have to do this. You're beautiful just as you are."

His statement, though well-intentioned, feels like a white lie. "You don’t understand, Jayce," you murmur, your voice trembling with suppressed frustration. "If I’m not perfect, I’m nobody. I can’t let them see my flaws. I can't let… you see them."

Jayce stands, walking toward you carefully, as if approaching a flickering flame. "You don’t have to be perfect to be loved," he says, his words a whisper in the storm raging in your mind. "You don’t have to prove anything to anyone, least of all to me."

Your gaze finally meets his through the reflection. Tears fight their way out, but you can't allow such weakness. "It's not that simple," you whisper. "Every day, every look, every word, it’s all a test. And if I fail…"

Jayce places his hands on your shoulders, his eyes filled with compassion and infinite patience. "If you fail, I’ll be here to lift you up."

"And what if I’m not enough?" The question slips out before you can stop it, the insecurity behind your narcissism showing in all its rawness. "What if one day you realize you deserve something better?"

Jayce leans in, his forehead touching yours, a gesture so intimate it almost breaks you. "I deserve someone who loves me for who I am, not for what I pretend to be. And that’s exactly what you are to me. I don’t have impossible expectations of you. I just want you to be happy, to find peace in who you are."

The internal struggle within you is fierce. The fear of rejection, the desire for perfection, the need to be seen and admired, all mix together in a whirlwind that consumes you. But in Jayce's arms, for a moment, the noise silences. His love is not a chain, but a refuge, one that offers rest if only you can let yourself fall into it.

"How can you be so sure?" you ask, your voice broken but curious.

"Because I love you," he answers without hesitation. "And love isn’t about waiting for perfection. It’s about accepting every part of you, even the ones you think are flaws."

The tears finally make their way out, releasing something within you that has been held back for so long. Jayce holds you as you cry, whispering words of comfort, letting all the pressure, fear, and anguish flow out of you.

"You’re perfect," you whisper, your voice cracked but full of sincerity. In your mind, Jayce is the epitome of everything you don’t believe you are: strong, confident, unshakable.

Jayce smiles softly, his hand caressing your cheek, wiping away the tears still falling. "No, I’m just a man in love. A man who loves you madly." His voice is warm, filled with a tenderness that disarms you. "Why don’t you show me that precious smile of yours? Please, it would make me so happy."

His sweet words touch your heart, and the corners of your lips stretch on their own, forming a sad smile.

"Gorgeous," Jayce murmured, caressing your lips with his strong, calloused fingers.

"Flatterer," you reply with a more elaborate smile, your eyes still wet, but now with a different shine, one that reflects the spark of hope he’s ignited in you.

"I’m just stating facts. I’m a scientist, honey, so I can tell you that, from my perspective, it’s scientifically proven that you’re gorgeous," he commented wryly, a wit that made you laugh.

Jayce smiled and kissed your forehead, holding you firmly in his arms. Finally, you feel like you can breathe, like air is filling your lungs again without that constant weight on your chest.

Ekko Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder (ADHD)

The room is silent except for the soft hum of music playing in the background, but your mind cannot stop racing. Your thoughts scatter like arrows shot in every direction. You try to focus on something, anything, but it feels as though your brain is in a constant battle between the ideas that come and go. The light from the lamp flickers irregularly, and for a moment, you wonder if the bulb is about to explode. This makes no sense, you know that, but the unease lingers.

You quickly get up from the bed, taking a misstep, tripping over a chair you hadn’t seen, barely avoiding it. Your heart races. Everything is a series of chaotic jumps in your head, an endless torrent of thoughts that can’t follow a single path. You look at the desk, with papers scattered about—unfinished projects, ideas you can’t ground. Everything calls to you, but you can’t focus on anything.

Your hands tremble slightly as you grab the pen and begin to write down an idea that came to you, but before you finish the sentence, a new image flashes in your mind. You stop, leaving the pen on the desk and staring out the window. Something about the glow of the stars makes you think of something else. You can’t concentrate. Everything distracts you, even the small noises you used to never notice. It’s so annoying.

Suddenly, you feel the stress begin to accumulate in your shoulders. It’s not just the lack of concentration; it’s the sense of constantly running toward something without ever arriving. You try to finish a task, but more and more thoughts pile up, projects, things that need doing. Everything seems urgent, and nothing seems possible to complete. Anxiety settles in your chest.

You’re about to get up again when you hear the sound of the door opening behind you. Ekko enters the room, his calming presence is the only thing that makes you stop for a moment. He watches you in silence for a few seconds, noticing the frenzy of your movements. You hadn’t realized, but your breathing is irregular, and you’ve gotten up twice without purpose. Something isn’t right.

He watches you quietly, understanding the internal struggle you’re facing. He knows what this means, what it costs you every day.

“What’s going on? Why are you so worked up?” he asks, his voice soft but with enough authority to make you stop and listen.

Your eyes focus on a fixed point, but you can’t find the words to explain what you’re feeling. You don’t know how to put into words what’s happening. It’s like you’re trapped in a cycle of thoughts that never stop.

“My mind... it doesn’t stop moving,” you finally manage to say, almost in a whisper. “Every time I try to do something, it’s like something else distracts me. Nothing stays. Everything slips away.”

Ekko watches you silently for a moment, understanding the fight you’re facing. He knows exactly what this feels like.

“I get it, babe,” he responds, his tone firm but gentle. “I know your mind’s all over the place right now, but I promise we can do this one step at a time. We’ll focus on one thing at a time, no pressure. Sound good?”

The fact that Ekko is offering to be there, without judgment, brings you relief. You know that the impulsiveness you feel, the urge to move without a plan, is something that consumes you. Your mind jumps from one thought to another, and each of those thoughts feels like an urgent need, an immediate necessity. But at the same time, nothing makes sense. Everything is scattered and out of control.

“It’s just that...” your words fade into the air, unable to be completed. You feel trapped in your own body, in your own brain. You can’t stop, but you can’t move forward either.

Ekko gently places a hand on your shoulder, his touch calming. “How can we start?” he asks sincerely, not rushing you. “Tell me what you need.”

For a moment, everything seems to stop. The flood of thoughts quiets down, and for the first time in a long while, you can think clearly, even if it’s just for an instant. It’s not about having everything figured out right away; it’s about feeling that someone is there, willing to stand by you while you navigate through the mental whirlwind.

“I just... I don’t know how to do it without jumping from one thing to another,” you murmur, frustration and shame creeping into your voice. “I feel like everything’s overwhelming, and I can’t focus on anything.”

“We’ll take it slow,” Ekko replies, his tone calm and direct. “First, breathe. The first step is to breathe, and then we can start with just one thing. The rest can wait.”

You close your eyes for a moment and follow his words. You breathe deeply, slowly, trying to find the balance that always seems so hard to reach. Ekko is there, not rushing you, waiting for your mind to settle. With his help, little by little, you manage to focus on one small task, one that’s manageable enough not to overwhelm you. It’s just one step, but it’s a step toward calm.

“You don’t have to do it all right now,” Ekko says softly. “What matters is that you’re not alone in this. We’ll go step by step.”

You feel the knot in your stomach loosening, even though there’s still much to do. But at this moment, with him by your side, you realize that maybe, just maybe, you can find a way toward a little peace.

After hours of work and soft laughter, you’re sitting on the floor, with Ekko beside you, both looking at the pieces left to place in a puzzle. It’s almost complete, the pieces fitting perfectly, and though the hours have flown by, you feel lighter, the atmosphere quieter.

“One more,” Ekko says with a smile, holding up a piece in the air. He passes it to you, and together, you place it in its spot, completing the picture. The puzzle is done, and though it’s a small accomplishment, it feels more meaningful than it seems. Not just because of what you’ve completed, but because you’ve managed to feel centered, accompanied.

When you look at the drawing you had left unfinished, now finally complete, you feel a deep sense of satisfaction. Ekko helped bring to life the image that only existed in your mind, his hands working alongside yours, following every line with care.

“You did it,” Ekko says, his eyes shining with pride. “My girl is incredible.” He pulled you into his lap and kissed your forehead.

You look at him, your heart beating a little faster. The fatigue of the afternoon washes over you, but you don’t care. All that matters is that he’s here, by your side, and that, for once, you feel at peace. The air feels lighter, as if the space between you two has been reduced, softened by the stillness of the moment.

“Thank you,” you murmur, your words barely a whisper, but full of gratitude.

Ekko turns toward you, his expression softening. “Don’t thank me. Thank yourself. You’re the one who made it happen, not me.”

The way he looks at you, the way his presence has become part of your space, makes you smile. And, in a moment of impulse, without thinking too much about it, you move a little closer. He seems to understand it instantly, and before you can second-guess yourself, his lips brush against yours. It’s a soft kiss, no rush, no urgency, just a moment where words aren’t needed.

When you pull away, both of you stay there, looking at each other, the air between you charged with something that doesn’t need to be named. Ekko smiles, his eyes sparkling with that glint that makes you feel as though everything is right, as if the world, for a moment, is in its place.

“Everything’s okay now,” Ekko says softly, filling you with calm.

And in that instant, you believe him.

Silco Borderline Personality Disorder (BPD)

The air in Silco's office is thick with tension, as always. The sound of the bustling city echoes through the glass windows, but inside, everything is still, almost as rigid as the gaze Silco fixes on you. You're sitting across from him, feeling a familiar dizziness, as if everything is out of control and, at the same time, you're trapped in an empty space. A mix of confusion and anxiety courses through every fiber of your being.

Your hands tremble slightly, and although you try to control your breathing, each inhalation seems to sink you further into the internal chaos. The voices in your head blend together, demanding answers, claiming something you can't give. Silco watches you calmly, but it's a cold, calculated calm, as if everything that's going on inside you is a game he knows how to play.

You feel the emptiness consuming you, and yet an unbearable pressure weighs on your chest. Your mind betrays you, throwing destructive thoughts at you, telling you you're worthless, that everything you do is doomed to fail. The contradiction is overwhelming: on one hand, you feel lost, and on the other, you refuse to give in to the feeling of helplessness.

"Are you alright?" Silco asks, his voice low and steady, but there's a slight intensity in his tone. He doesn't break eye contact, as if he's evaluating every micro-expression on your face, every movement. He knows you're not, but still, he asks. Is it a test? A need to know how far you can go? The silence stretches on, and your thoughts only intensify.

The urge to stand up and run from it all is strong. Everything in you screams to follow your impulses, to escape, to flee from the overwhelming weight of it all. But you stay there, because something in you knows that running will only plunge you deeper into the darkness you're feeling inside. You see yourself fighting, trying to maintain control, but every second makes you feel more lost.

"I'm sorry... I don't know what's happening to me," you whisper, your voice broken, struggling against the avalanche of emotions threatening to drown you. You feel the tears pressing behind your eyes, but you force yourself to keep composure. "It's just... it's all so intense. So confusing."

Silco keeps watching you in silence. There's no judgment in his gaze, only a calculated assessment, as if he's reading between the lines of your suffering. After a long moment, he sighs and stands up from his chair, approaching you slowly. It's not a sudden gesture, but calm, as if he's used to dealing with people who struggle with their own minds. He says nothing, but his presence is the only thing anchoring you in this moment.

With one hand, he takes yours. The contact is firm, but not aggressive, as if he's giving you space to breathe, but also space to not escape. In his eyes, something changes. There's an understanding that you can't fully decipher, but it fills you with a strange sensation, like, for the first time in a long time, you're not alone in the storm raging inside you.

"Your mind is betraying you," Silco says calmly, his voice soft but full of an authority that makes you feel that everything happening has a purpose. "It's an enemy that everyone must face at some point. But you don't have to face it alone."

The words fall on you like a stone, but strangely, they allow you to relax, even if only for a moment. The internal chaos you've always felt halts for an instant. And in that silence, you're finally able to breathe.

"All of this... this emptiness, the feeling that nothing matters, it's not your fault," Silco continues, his tone firm, though not without a strange gentleness. "It's just a phase, a moment that will pass. But you need to control it. Not let it take over you."

You feel vulnerable, but at the same time, a part of you relaxes in his closeness. Silco doesn't tell you that it's okay, nor does he promise easy solutions. He speaks to you with reality, with that harshness that you know comes from someone who understands suffering, but who doesn't have time to sugarcoat the truth.

"What you're feeling is real, but it's also transient. Not everything is as final as you think," he adds, his gaze fixed on yours with intensity. "You can be stronger than this."

The words resonate in your mind as you take a deep breath. You don't know if you fully believe them, but for some reason, in this moment, the darkness feels less imposing. You're not completely free of it, but at least you feel you're not entirely alone. Silco is here, firm and without judgment, waiting for you to take control of your own mind, without expecting you to do it immediately, but giving you the possibility to believe that you'll manage.

The pressure in your chest doesn't disappear completely, but a small crack of calm starts to open within you. And though you know your inner struggles won't end immediately, for the first time in a long while, you don't feel as lost. Silco looks at you one last time, without haste, but with a silent certainty.

"When you're ready, you can get out of this. I'll be here."

You're surprised by how firm his voice sounds, as if, by saying it, he's committed to being a constant presence. And although you don't fully understand how he does it, you realize that, in this moment, his steadiness helps you more than any empty words of comfort.

The world continues around you, but somehow, Silco has given you the strength to face it.

The silence between you and Silco lingers for a moment, but it's no longer the same silence as before. There's a strange peace, almost comforting, in the way he holds you, in the closeness you now feel between you both. The contact of his hand, firm and steady, gives you an anchor amidst the storm that still rages inside you.

A sigh escapes your lips without you noticing, and for a moment, it's not one of despair, but of relief. Silco, still keeping his gaze fixed on you, takes one more step closer. It's not a quick or rushed step, but a calculated one, as if he's sure that, in this moment, the only thing you need is that closeness, that calm presence.

Without saying anything, his fingers gently caress your cheek, a soft gesture that cuts through you. There's a tenderness in his movements that you hadn't anticipated, something that seems in complete contradiction with the person you know, but that, in this moment, comforts you more than any words. You feel vulnerable, but you don't fear it, not now.

Your breathing gradually calms, and Silco, silently, moves a little closer, so close that you can feel the warmth of his body. The space between you is almost nonexistent now, and you can feel his breath in rhythm with yours. There's something in his presence that soothes you, that gives you the feeling that everything will be okay, even though it still feels hard to believe.

Finally, his lips come close to yours with an unexpected softness. It's not a hasty or desperate kiss, but something slower, more measured. The brush of his lips against yours is so gentle that it surprises you, as if he's waiting for you to accept it, for you to be ready. And you are. Though your mind is still filled with doubts and fears, something inside you tells you that this is the moment you can allow yourself to be vulnerable, that you can receive something that won't hurt you.

The kiss deepens slowly, and in that instant, the world seems to fade away around you. All that remains is the warmth of his body, the firmness of his arms around you, and the gentle contact of his lips, like a silent promise that, even though the future is uncertain, for a moment, everything is alright.

When you finally pull away, no words are needed. Silco looks at you with an intensity you've never seen before, but in his eyes, there's something more, something you can't describe, something that makes you feel that, despite everything you've been through, you're not alone.

"I told you you were strong," he whispers, his voice deep and soft at the same time.

And for a moment, everything seems enough.

Mel Chronic Stress Disorder

The atmosphere is thick with tension, but it's a different kind of tension. It's a quiet calm, yet at the same time, it is filled with the constant threat of what could happen. You’re there, in one of the rooms of the mansion, sitting on a chair by the window, gazing out at the illuminated city, but unable to really see anything. The world around you seems to blur, as if a layer of fog has settled over your senses, blurring every detail and leaving only the emptiness of your thoughts.

Mel, who has been watching your behavior for the past few minutes, approaches with a palpable gentleness in her movements. Her presence is firm, but not intrusive. From a distance, she’s observed how the symptoms of your chronic stress have taken over you, how anxiety and mental exhaustion have combined to make you feel beyond your limits.

She crouches slightly to be at your level, her eyes fixed on yours, searching for your attention. “I notice you’re not yourself, and I know it’s because the weight of everything has piled up,” she says in a low voice, her tone soft yet firm. “But I want you to listen. You have the right to rest. You don’t have to carry the world, not all the time.”

Despite her words, you feel a pressure in your chest that won’t ease. Everything feels too big, too heavy. Chronic stress consumes you, leaving your thoughts tangled while your body responds with a deep exhaustion that doesn’t seem to go away no matter what you do.

Mel, noticing the internal struggle that consumes you, steps closer and, without warning, places a firm hand on your shoulder. It’s not a gesture of force, but of support. A sign that she’s here, silently, but available to help you find the balance you need.

“Your body is telling you it needs to stop,” she continues, with a softness that’s hard to deny. “Those moments of despair, of exhaustion... they’re real. But you don’t have to go through it alone, no matter how much you think you can.”

The contact of her hand on you, her quiet strength, begins to offer some relief. Even though the weight still lingers, something in you relaxes. It’s as if her words offer you a rope to hold onto, something tangible in the fog that seems to surround your mind.

You lean forward, your fingers briefly touching your forehead as you try to calm the agitation still coursing through you. The stress, that constant pressure in your life, seems unwilling to let go of you, but at least in this moment, with Mel by your side, you can breathe a little more deeply.

“I’ll be here,” Mel whispers, like an unbreakable promise. “If you need to rest, I’ll help you find peace. You don’t have to go on alone.”

For the first time in a long time, you allow yourself to think that, maybe, it’s possible to let go of some of that burden. Mel’s voice, soft yet full of certainty, is a refuge in the midst of the chaos in your mind.

Mel doesn’t expect you to feel guilty for your exhaustion. She doesn’t demand that you change or “overcome” your chronic stress overnight. She only gives you space to feel what you need to feel and to acknowledge that, even though the road may be long, you don’t have to walk it alone.

When your eyes lift and meet hers, there’s something in your gaze that softens. The stress doesn’t vanish immediately, but the simple fact that someone understands you, that someone is staying with you without judging, gives you something you didn’t have before: the possibility of healing.

The silence between you both is comfortable. It’s a silence of acceptance and understanding. And as Mel remains by your side, her presence becomes something that offers comfort, not an immediate solution, but a step toward the calm you so desperately need.

After a long silence, Mel slowly approaches you, and her eyes, filled with softness and understanding, capture you. She takes your hand, with a delicacy that makes you feel lighter, as if the weight of your mind could lessen just with that contact.

“You know, right?” she whispers, her voice gentle but firm. “I’ve seen you fight, and still, you’re here, being so incredible. And to me, that’s what really matters. Not everything you’ve been through, but who you are now.”

The sparkle in her eyes makes you blush slightly, and your heart beats a little faster.

“Mel...” you whisper, barely able to find the words, feeling your nerves breaking. “I don’t know what I’d do without you…”

She smiles, moving closer. “I’m here, for whatever you need, for anything, always.”

Without saying another word, Mel gently caresses your cheek, as if every movement is a silent promise. Then, you see her lean in toward you, her face so close to yours that you can feel the brush of her breath.

“You’re my refuge, you know that, right?” Mel says, with sincerity that runs deep within you.

And without another word, her lips find yours, in a tender, almost urgent kiss, as if she wanted to convey everything she couldn’t with words. When she pulls away, her eyes shine with an unmistakable softness.

“I love you, with all my being. And that won’t change.”

You shiver slightly at her words, but instead of insecurity, you find comfort. Her eyes transmit calm to you, and for the first time, you realize that she’s willing to be the peace you so need.

Sevika Bipolar Disorder

The darkness surrounds you, but it’s not physical darkness; it’s something denser, creeping through every corner of your mind. It’s one of those days. You don’t know for sure, but you feel it deep in your gut: something has changed. There’s a void in your chest that you don’t know how to fill, and a sensation in your stomach that twists you up. You’ve been through this before. The bipolar disorder drags you, takes you as its own without warning, pushing you from one extreme to the other in a matter of hours, minutes.

You wake up feeling the weight of sadness, a sadness that feels physical, sinking you into the mattress as if the sheets were lead. You don’t want to move, think, or do anything. You just feel empty, as if all your strength has evaporated. The room seems smaller, the walls pressing in on you. Your legs don’t respond when you try to get up. A knot forms in your throat, but the tears won’t come. There’s no energy for that, just the weight of despair.

You don’t see her enter. Her presence is silent, but solid. Sevika knows something is wrong, she feels it even before you tell her. When you look at her, her expression doesn’t change, but there’s something in her eyes that makes you feel that the situation is serious. There’s no surprise, no fear, just a cold, calculating understanding. Sevika isn’t one to lose her calm easily. And that makes you even more confused, making you feel like you don’t belong in that moment, like you’re not the person she expects to see.

“What’s going on?” she asks, not softening anything. The question isn’t condescending, nor filled with concern. It’s direct, almost harsh, she doesn’t beat around the bush. She knows that, when you’re like this, empty words don’t help.

You struggle to form a response. You can’t, really. Your thoughts are tangled in an incomprehensible chaos. But she doesn’t expect you to explain anything. Sevika approaches, sits on the edge of the bed. Her gaze never leaves you, as if she’s evaluating your soul, searching for a point of vulnerability, a sign of what to do next. She has the ability to see beyond your emotions, beyond the depression that consumes you and the anxiety that makes you tremble. She knows that right now there’s nothing rational in your mind, but understanding is her only response. Patience mixes with a slight touch of toughness, as she always does with things she can’t control.

“You’re staying here. You’re not going to do anything impulsive. You’re not going to try to run out of here or make this worse,” she says with a calm coldness that leaves no room for objection. You know that, in this moment, she’s the only voice of reason you can hear.

You’re aware that Sevika is used to dealing with extreme situations, but this one is different. She watches you closely, but from a distance, as if she’s weighing the damage, calculating what she can do to keep you safe. You don’t see fear in her, but you see resolve. She doesn’t switch into “rescuer mode,” she doesn’t try to hug you or tell you that everything will be fine. What she says, she says with authority because she knows that if she gives in, chaos will take control, and everything she’s worked to keep stable will fall apart.

In the internal struggle between your broken mind and the anger that begins to build up inside of you, Sevika is the rock that keeps you from diving into the void. But she also knows she can’t ignore your emotions. Her expression hardens slightly when she realizes there’s something more going on. “I’m telling you this because you know it, not because I need to explain it to you,” she whispers, making it clear that there’s no room for games.

When you finally speak, it’s in whispers, as if your words have weight and could break you. “I don’t know what’s happening to me. I’m... I’m so tired of this constant back and forth. I can’t handle it.”

Sevika doesn’t change her posture. She doesn’t tell you that she’s going to “fix” you, nor does she try to cure you. She knows that what you have doesn’t have an easy fix, but she does have tools to deal with the situation. “You don’t need to fix anything right now. You need to rest. Let what’s going to happen, happen, but don’t make decisions you’ll regret later. Do you understand me?” her voice is firm, but underneath there’s something else, a touch of softness she rarely shows.

The air in the room is heavy, laden with the weight of your thoughts, like a fog that prevents you from seeing beyond. Sevika is there, watching you with the same intensity as always, but with an odd calm, a calm that scares you because it makes you feel like she sees it all: the chaos consuming you, the internal battle between despair and rage.

“I don’t want this to control me. I don’t want to be like this,” you murmur, the words coming out broken. You know you’re saying it more to yourself than to her, but still, the guilt pierces your chest like invisible needles. You feel like you’re not being who she expects.

Sevika stays silent for a moment, her gaze fixed on you. There’s something in her face, a line of tension in her jaw, as if she’s weighing every word before speaking. Finally, she gets a little closer, breaking the distance between your bodies.

“It’s not about what you expect from yourself. It’s about what you need right now. And what you need right now is rest, stop fighting against something you can’t control.”

Your eyes search hers, those eyes that always seem to understand more than you can verbalize. And, somehow, you feel that there’s no judgment in them, just a silent acceptance of what you’re going through. It’s strange. In the middle of the storm in your mind, Sevika gives you the feeling of being the only anchor left in your world.

Suddenly, she stretches out a hand toward you, not rushing, not in a hurry, but with the firmness that characterizes her. You take it without thinking, as if it’s the only thing that can stop the flood of erratic thoughts flooding your mind. Her touch is warm, comforting. There’s a strength in that simple gesture, something that allows you to relax, even if just for a second.

“I’m going to take care of you, understand?” she whispers, her voice low, barely a breath. There are no empty promises in her words, just a statement of fact. But in her tone, you find a softness that she rarely shows. It’s like, for a brief moment, her heart opens a little more, even if she doesn’t fully recognize it.

The moment stretches on, and even though the storm in your mind hasn’t ceased, there’s something in you that feels a little lighter. Sevika doesn’t have the solution to your pain, but her presence, her closeness, gives you a peace you never even imagined.

Without thinking, you move a little closer to her, seeking that warmth. Her fingers interlace with yours, and for the first time all day, you don’t feel completely broken. Sevika has never promised you a happy ending, but in this moment, you don’t need one. The simple fact of being here, of having her close, gives you a reason to keep going, even if just for a little while longer.

“I love you,” you say without thinking, and the words come out with a clarity that surprises you. It’s not a grand declaration, it’s not a promise that everything will be okay, but it’s something real, something you never thought you could say to anyone before.

“I love you too, doll,” she responds with a half-smile, though her eyes seem softer than ever. And, for a second, the world seems to stop. The anxiety, the disorder in your head, dissipate, if only for a brief moment.

She leans in a little toward you, and in that instant, all that matters is the touch of her lips on your forehead, a simple gesture but filled with affection. The silence between you both is comfortable, no pressure, just the comfort of being together, knowing that, even if the world around you falls apart, Sevika will be the one to keep you steady.

[multifandomsimp27]

Needy

Dae Ho (Player 388) x fem! reader

Warnings! Smut 18+ MDNI, oral (m recieving), p in v, Dae Ho being desperate.

Author's Note: Hey! This is my first fan fiction ever. Please give suggestions or requests, right now im focusing solely on Squid Games!

It was 30 minutes until lights out but all Dae Ho could think about was you. It wasn't innocent thoughts either. He couldn't stop thinking about fucking you the night before. You were trying your best to keep quiet and not wake the others but he was fucking you so good. It was all started because Thanos was flirting with you. The thoughts of last night were making him hard, he needed you right now. "Shit where is she." Dae Ho muttered to himself. He spotted you talking to Player 380 casually laughing at something she said. He walked up to you not caring if he interrupted your conversation. "Y/N, can we talk please? It's urgent." Dae Ho panted. "Yeah sure.. what's the rush?" you said curiously. Instead of answering he dragged you along to the bathroom. "Dae Ho people are going to see-" you muttered cautiously. "Y/N I don't care I need...you" he panted desperately.

Before you could respond you were dragged into a stall. He pinned you against the wall still gentle enough to not hurt you. His lips crashed against yours and he couldn't help but grind himself into you desperate to feel something. "Dae Ho what's going on?" you panted. "I just need you mm- so desperate." he whined. You couldn't help but get turned on by his desperation. "Okay baby then how about I help you?" you said while getting on your knees. You could already tell how hard he was through his pants. You rubbed his erection through his pants but it wasn't enough for him. "Please Y/N do something.. please." he begged. That was all it took for you to take his pants and boxers off. You slowly took him into your mouth teasing him by stopping halfway. His pupils were blown out, he quickly grabbed your hair and forced the rest of his dick down your throat. "Sorry my love- need- to feel it." Dae Ho said. You could tell he was close already, you started using your hand which almost threw him over the edge. "Shit stop- I wanna cum inside of you." he panted breathlessly.

You stood up and you both took the rest of your clothes off. Dae Ho palmed your tits which earned a moan from you. Dae Ho lifted you up giving you no choice but to wrap your legs around him. He quickly lined himself up with your cunt and thrusted into you giving you enough time to adjust to his size. "Ah- fuck so tight you feel so good Y/N." Dae Ho moaned. All you could do was nod your head. His pace was beginning to quicken, all you could do was moan out. "Fuck Dae Ho it feels so good your so good at fucking me." you panted. Dae Ho reached down to rub your clit to get you close. "Baby I'm so close let's cum together yeah?" Dae Ho said. "Mm- so close Dae Ho fuck-" you moaned. The thrusts hitting your g-spot, him rubbing you closer to the edge, and him moaning in your ear was all it took for you to cum. "Fuck Dae Ho I'm-" you moaned eyes rolling back as you reached your high. A few seconds later Dae Ho was cumming inside of you. "I'm so sorry for being rough Y/N I needed it so bad." Dae Ho panted into your neck. You just giggled in response. "I love you Dae Ho" "I love you too Y/N."

[rottenpumpkin13]

how about random time traveler cloud quotes?

Ah yes, the trooper who's always hanging around Zack, has zero chill, and might just be an undercover spy if the rumors are true. Has been overheard saying:

• *watching Sephiroth's fan club meeting* "Oh yeah, worship the ground he walks on. That'll age well. Bunch of jackasses."

• "No, sir, I don't know why I instinctively reached for a sword that's bigger than my entire body."

• "Oh, Shinra's newest conquest is for the good of the planet? That's rich coming from the company currently sucking the life out of it like a mosquito on steroids."

• (Said to Sephiroth, randomly, when Cloud appeared around a corner and Sephiroth was mid-chew of a protein bar) "If you hear a voice in your head calling itself "mother", it's not your mother. I can't stress this enough." (Sephiroth started choking).

• "Oh god no, not the stairs."

Cloud: You look so healthy today, Zack, so full of life.

Zack, nervous: As opposed to??

• *Slips Angeal a pamphlet about the benefits of consulting a chiropractor because of the Buster Sword* "When you reach the age of 25, you'll start to curve in like a shrimp, trust me"

• *in combat training* "No sir, I don't know why I have 'an unusually aggressive stance' when practicing with the silver-haired training dummy. Just feels natural."

• "For the last time, I'm not 'oddly knowledgeable about sword maintenance.' I just... had a good teacher. Eventually. Will have? Tenses are hard." *Looks in the distance where said teacher (Zack) is trying to pull a push door* "Forget what I said."

• "Sephiroth, sir, if someone told you you were born as a result of human experimentation, how many people would you kill? Hypothetically, of course."

• *Watching people fawn over Sephiroth in the training room* "Oh sure, everyone's impressed now. Just wait until this asshole finds a library."

[resident-idiot-simp]

Fuck the idea of the X-Men being concerned about their Logan after hearing about the new Logan and Deadpool won't leave my head.

This Logan is so violent and feral him and Deadpool have done unspeakable things to one another and enjoy it. They HAVE to wonder if their Logan was stopping himself from doing similar stuff.

The professor had said before his thoughts were pretty dark and Jean had seen stuff that had spooked her which lead to lots of distance between them multiple times. She had admitted to others it unnerved her because of just how violent some of it was. She has worried about those he was close to because of it.

Logan had been upset after that because he couldn't help it. It was just how his brain worked.

This Logan however was so much worse. It was beyond disturbing for Jean who had told the others. After this discovery the questions started.

Did their Logan deep down think and feel this way? Was this normal or was this Logan just different? Jean could confirm that in retrospect some of this was definitely in their Logan, but it was hard to say how much.

Maybe theirs had suppressed it well enough you would have to dig to find these thoughts. This Logan was much more animal then theirs was or was it that this Logan just isn't hiding it.

Deadpool has commented on it when asked saying this Logan was less worried about being himself and he loved it. One quote that got passed around was of him saying. "He's a feral he should be acting like this it's natural, do you guys just not know that? A bit pathetic considering this is a school."

That had caused quite a bit of ruckus considering the implications. Sure ferals existed and everyone knew they were more animal then human, but with them being as rare as they were you didn't see them often. Lots of people had only heard stories about them. Hearing and experiencing were two different things and Logan had always seemed pretty tame... Or at least compared to this new one.

When questioned on how he knew how ferals were supposed to act he laughed, "I'm a merc where do you think they go when you goody two-shoes won't take them in because they're too disturbing for you?" This statement too caused a lot of upset.

Deadpool seemed to have a lot of answers If they were true or not it was hard to tell and impossible to determine considering he didn't like sharing. He was insane sure but he seemed to always be right on things he went out of his way to predict or point out.

Someone eventually asked if the old Logan was the same, which had (for the first time the X-Men head ever seen) silenced him. It took him a while as he thought over the question before answering.

"Yes and no, no because If you train yourself out of habits and thought processes they usually die down. However if he just didn't stop himself he would be the exact same. Which honestly would have been better."

When asked to explain why exactly it would be better to be like the new Logan, Deadpool had looked...sad.

"Are you telling me you would rather live a life that's not really you? To be inauthentic just to fit other people's ideals? To change yourself so much that you become practically unrecognizable to the person you were?"

Silence followed that as wide eyes took in wisdom from the unlikely source.

"That's a sad life to live knowing everyone likes that inauthentic version of you better. That you can never be yourself and are shamed when you try to be. That's a damn travesty."

No one knew how to respond and Deadpool had just shrugged, "That's not a life I'd want to live, that I'd want anyone to live." He threw in before walking off to find his Logan and daughter who....oh...was that why Laura always seemed to hate this place?

(x)

[lastoneout]

So despite my bitterness at never being given an interesting song to sing all throughout choir because I was an alto(actually a contralto my choir teachers were idiots who sorted all girls into "soprano" and "soprano who isn't trying hard enough" so yeah) and altos are always the harmony or backing, now that I'm older I can appreciate the power lower voices bring to really round out a song, add a richness that is very impactful, and I am not willing to be that low rich voice...but I also wonder, are there any songs(literally any idc) where the roles are switched?

To oversimplify, we have sopranos carrying the melody, the core identity of the song, while mezzosopranos and altos and(if your choir is cool) contaltos doing all kinds of crazy harmonizing shit to add the song's structure, the bricklayers, the building is just scaffolding without them. And the same plays out for tenors and everyone lower, tenors get the dramatic, flashy scaffolding while everyone else builds lays bricks to make a solid, study house.

But is there a reason it has to be like that? I feel like it's gotta be possible to write a song where the altos or contralrltos skng the melody, they get to be flashy, while the higher voices compliment them. Doesn't evrn have to be baoeong!! Those jigh ass fluttery snow white Amanda sifred girlies and the lads doing whatever the fuck Dan Avadan has going on, and everyone in between who's instincts higj,voices have so much potential as a complimentary force, I high, something should write a song like thaf@@@ inwannt see !!! It !!!!SONG IT!!!! RHIS COJKD BE SO 4AD!!

[flowersforthemachines]

Some facts about Taash (and also the Lords of Fortune, the Qunari, Dragons and other related things) gathered from the banters

Featuring Shathaan's stories about the Crows!

I went through all companion banters on DanaDuchy's channel after playing the game to write down all facts about companions/the world that I haven't seen brought up anywhere in the game as a writing reference (and for funsies).

Note: This list may not be exhaustive. I might have missed some something or didn't write it down because I considered it common knowledge. If you have anything to add, please DM me or send an ask! (do specify what banter the information is coming from, though)

Note 2: Posts from this series (mostly) don't include information from banters specific to quests or between companions and faction members. I plan to do another playthrough to capture more of those and will add any relevant info to the character posts.

Other characters' posts: Bellara, Davrin, Harding, Lucanis, Emmrich, Neve. I'm also planning a post about just the Lighthouse some time later

About Taash

General: 

Taash gets grumpy if they stay inside for too long

Taash may polish their treasure hoard or clean the dishes (even somebody else's) to get out of their head

When Taash is feeling sad, they ask somebody else about how they are doing, so they can focus on somebody else instead of themselves

Taash doesn’t like talking about their feelings because it makes them sad (Lucanis can relate)

Taash doesn't read books before bed because they have a tendency to stay up past their bedtime to finish the exciting parts

Taash seems to care quite a lot about fibre and digestive health (they are so real for that). For example, they enjoy the smell of coffee but don’t drink it because it’s bad for their guts

Taash drinks alcohol 

Taash once requested Bellara/Lucanis to cook them a demon (the suggestion was disregarded) 

Taash liked Lucanis’s deep-fried peppers 

Taash liked Bellara’s stir-fry 

(If Rook is in romance with Taash) A spirit of devotion appears next to Taash after they enter a relationship

Taash doesn’t want to look for more dragonfire tablets because “they are just more orders”, and they already have enough  

Taash doesn’t kill in cold blood and needs to get angry in order to kill someone

Taash has good taste in gemstones, knowing which colours match which (based on the banters where they recommend gemstones for Emmrich’s lich helmet). They say it’s a Lord of Fortune thing, they have to know how to make gems look good 

Taash isn’t afraid of the Fade, because the spirits there mind their own business and don’t try to possess anyone (or anything) 

Taash thinks that even if the Nevarrans almost brought their dragons to extinction, they will still come back eventually

Taash is extremely excited to hear that Morrigan can (potentially) turn into a dragon and wants to ask her about it next time they meet 

Taash doesn’t mind finding no loot when hunting dragons because as long as you survived an encounter with a dragon, you have a new story to tell 

Taash doesn't think of dragons as monsters since they are a natural part of the world and have been around longer than anyone else

On fire-breathing: 

Taash started breathing fire when they were a toddler

Taash needs to eat greens after breathing fire, or they get headaches 

According to healers, fire breathing hurts Taash’s lungs

Taash accidentally set their first female partner’s hair on fire during their first sex

Taash once tried to cook with their dragon breath and accidentally melted a pot and set the kitchen on fire 

On Taash’s sense of smell:  

Taash got their heightened sense of smell after they got sick and couldn't breathe through the nose for a couple of months. After they recovered they could suddenly smell everything

Tassh can smell when someone is ovulating. They can also smell who had been in the room before them, and who is hungover 

Taash could also tell Neve got together with Rook or Lucanis from the smell even before anybody told them

To Taash, Minrathous smells rainy and ‘like rich people hurting poor people’

Early life and the relationship with Shathann: 

Taash learnt to swim before they learnt to walk

Shathann sometimes wouldn't let Taash play/go swimming until they finished their studies (like being able to tell the difference between some pottery shards)

Shathann gifted Taash axes during one of the gift-giving holidays when they were younger. They were simple kindling choppers, but Shathann helped decorate them to make them look like Qunari weapons. During a conversation with Bellara, Taash realises that may be the reason they are still using axes to this day

Axes are also good at lodging between dragon scales and allows them to climb up

Taash grew up poor, though they didn’t realise it because Shathann always made sure they had enough food, even at her expense (like pretending she didn’t want to eat because “Rivaini food is too rich for her”)

Taash spent the money they made from their first job as Lord of Fortune on buying Shathaan a dress. Shathann didn’t appreciate it, instead urging Taash to buy themselves boots or some other useful things 

Shathann hated apples because their skin would get stuck in her teeth (“Evataash, that fruit is stupid!”)

If Taash chooses to pursue Rivaini culture and wear Shathann’s horn as jewellery, they have a blacksmith do runes in the old Qunari language along the edges and get a Seer to bless it

Shathann stopped telling stories about the Crows after Taash once climbed on the roof to play as a Crow

The things Shathann taught Taash about the Crows:

Antivan Crows make themselves invisible to dragons by imitating the dragon's shadow

Antivan Crows coat the beaks of actual crows with poison so that the crows can kill people by pecking

Antivan Crows can slow down their breathing until they become invisible

Antivan Crows come through houses at night and kill children who aren’t in bed

Antivan Crows can do a special move that stops their enemy's heart

Antivan Crows can strangle a Qunari with their own dar-saam (but only if it’s tied incorrectly)

Relationships with companions: 

Bellara gives Taash advice on cooking dinner for their mother

Davrin teaches Taash to use buckets filled with water and sand for lifting

Taash has never flown a kite before and asks Harding to teach them

Harding's mother sends Taash a letter with homemade candies after Shathann’s death, calling it “a hug from afar” (Taash appreciated the gesture and liked the candy) 

(If Rook is in romance with Taash) Taash asks Lucanis about what Rook likes to eat, and Lucanis offers to teach them how to make coffee/tea/chiocolata calda 

Taash isn’t scared of Spite, and even convinces (or more like intimidates) him not to talk about how other people smell without their permission

Lucanis agrees to teach Taash how to kill targets with flair (with varying degrees of success when it comes to cool one-liners) and then plans to ask Teia to make a Crow cape just for them (Taash is very excited about it, as they love crow capes)

Taash insists Neve should get some trophy from Aelia (a ring, or an amulet with her name) to show everyone she beat her, and doesn’t understand why Neve isn’t interested in something like that 

Taash offers their blood to Neve for blood magic purposes (Neve doesn’t take up the offer)

Taash thinks Neve’s ‘dresses’ are pretty

Taash thinks nobody can go toe-to-toe in magic with Neve

Taash offers to hook Neve up with their jeweller to get her a discount (in case she wants a new leg) because “Neve deserves nice things”

Lords of Fortune:

Lords of Fortune have a drunk game where they throw a goblet made from fool’s gold into the water for others to find. Whoever finds it gets free drinks for the rest of the night. The game has only one rule: no punching in the junk

There is also another drunk game where drunk Lords jump off a giant cliff. The only rule is not to hit the water face-first

Even if those are “drunk games”, you can participate in them sober, as long as you are willing to be as stupid as the drunk people

The Lords of Fortune pick new jobs by Isabela throwing daggers at a map or racing nugs (the winner picks the job - could be its owner, or the nug itself)

The lords used to blindfold Mateo (the faction merchant) and spin him around in circles until he tripped on something like a map. They stopped doing that because a Seer told them to quit (the whole thing gave Mateo headaches) 

After Shathann is gone, Taash is in charge of appraising Qunari artifacts for the Lords until they find a better expert

The Lords of Fortune work with a Dalish clan keeper Shivanas (Taash calls them ‘Shiv’) who appraises artefacts for them (tells them what’s okay to sell and not to sell etc.) 

After losing his hand, a Lord named Bernst got a lock-pick hand prosthetic decorated with gems

About Dragons:

Different breeds of dragons can mate and produce offspring. That’s how ice- and lightning-breathing dragons came about

The muscles of dragon wings’ are vulnerable behind. Another weakness is the underbelly

Fighting Dragons is all about making them come to you, either by having them see you as a threat (so they come down to assert dominance) or prey (so they come down to eat you) 

There is a dragon called Wildervale Spitter, which can breathe fire or poison gas. The “fire breath” is actually just poison that burns when the dragon breathes. Most dragons always ignite their breath. The Spitter's special for being able to choose whether to light it up.

Dragons have an extra eyelid that they shut while breathing fire in order to protect their eyes

About Qunari etc.:

Eb-ketarra means something like “growing memories.” When you graft someone’s horn onto yours, you also add their strength to yourself

Qunari food uses a lot of oil for frying

Qunari have a much better sense of smell than humans

Qunari can bury their dead with large jars inlaid with a flame pattern. It’s called ‘issalatar’ and is empty inside, representing that the deceased’s body is also empty now that their spirit is gone

The Rivaini armada can hold its own against the Antaam fleet, but only in good weather. They can’t match the Antaam in firepower, but they can outsail them

Isabela is apparently still a captain of the Siren’s Call 

[moralesluvr]

FABLE AND TRUTH 4 | billie eilish

୧ ‧₊˚ love was the law & religion was taught…. ↳ summary: you had always been raised on being poise, feminine, classy. but what was most important to your family was your religion— and it had embroidered itself into your daily life. but when it’s time to pick between feelings and faith, which will you choose? pairings & aus. billie eilish x fem!reader warnings. religious backgrounds & guilt | mature language | sexual content | substance use author's note. CHAP 4 IS HERE! i'm so sorry my loves this lowkey took forever but here ya go <3 wc. 12k (my god)

✧ 3:07 am, wednesday ✧

sleep felt like a distant relative right about now. 

it would come, and then it would quickly vanish— leaving you absolutely worn, but never enough to where you could slip into a slumber. you were wired yet exhausted, fueled yet so sleepy, and it was driving you borderline insane. 

you wrestled with yourself all night. it was too hot, and then too cold— and the constant back and forth of temperature seemed to line up with your tangled emotions. you were certain, and then confused again, and then more certain that you were even more confused. but you knew one thing, though— you were stressed out of your mind. 

billie asking you to hang out shouldn’t have been the issue. the issue was that your heart twinged with nerves when you read the message, and you couldn’t seem to calm yourself down no matter how hard you tried. she was a friend now— yes, but she felt much closer than, and it was all too much for you. this girl was making you feel things you’ve never felt before. safe, secure— like you didn’t have to have everything figured out right now. 

but that’s what infuriated you. not having everything all sorted out and linear made you feel like you were a mess. you’d tidy up one area of your life, and the next would become deranged, off of your path. you had finally figured out your life, and here billie comes, sweeping you off your feet. 

it wasn’t comfortable to feel like this, and you were sure it never could be. you didn’t like how she made your skin feel when she stared at you too long— and how easy it was to stare back. you didn’t like that when she touched you, it made your nerves light on fire, half out of annoyance at yourself and half out of anxiety. 

it wasn’t a crime to appreciate beauty, you knew this. but what was a crime (or so it felt) was appreciating it to the extent of wanting to be the only one to see it. to be the only one who could talk with her the way you do, to smile and laugh at her jokes the way you do, to keep your skin pressed against hers the way you do. 

your dilemma was what to do with yourself now. everything felt a little blurry, so unclear, like everything you’d kept so dear to your heart was now just a distant memory. it felt out of the question, when you really should be considering it most. 

well, what did you value most? feelings, or faith? truth, or temptation? 

you weren’t sure now. and that’s what made pesky and hot tears bubble in the corner of your eyes, what made you slip further underneath your sheets, wishing you could just disintegrate into them, your thoughts and feelings following. 

your bed was suffocatingly warm now. it felt like you were burning alive— and you weren’t sure if it was because it was actually hot or because of the thoughts swirling in your mind. it was as if the mattress had turned into a bed of coals, each fiery ember igniting the guilt and shame festering inside you. you tossed and turned, trying to escape the unbearable heat, but it clung to you like sin.

it felt too fitting, in a way. the warmth reminded you of every sermon you’d ever heard about fire and brimstone, about straying too far from the path and finding yourself engulfed in flames. was this what it felt like to drift? to teeter on the edge of everything you believed in?

you couldn’t shake the thought that this heat was deserved, that it was your punishment for letting your feelings spiral out of control. the suffocating warmth of your bed felt like a taste of the consequences you feared, and no amount of shifting or turning could make you feel any lighter.

but you knew yourself better than that, you knew your faith all too well. you knew you’d find yourself back on your path one way or another— because you always have. you’ve always figured it out, no matter how hard you tried, no matter how many late nights you laid awake, fingers tucked against your Bible and praying until your voice croaked and your eyes wept. 

but tonight felt different. heavier. your faith was the foundation that had carried you through so many storms, but now, it felt like it was shaking under the weight of everything you couldn’t even say out loud. you could barely even think about them without feeling sick to your stomach— much less speak them into existence, because then that made them real. 

thoughts weren’t a sin, but actions were. and as much as you could imagine what it would be like to run your fingers through her hair, to kiss her, to hold her— it’d better not weave itself into how you acted. it’d better not become habitual. 

your thoughts swirled like a storm until you felt sick of tossing and turning. they were crashing into each other, leaving you stuck in this cycle of confusion and guilt, and you longed for sleep to undertake you, to leave you with peace for just a few mere moments, if your anxiety allowed it. 

you loved God, you lived for God— but it felt oddly strange that you were souled out for something you couldn’t see, couldn’t touch. you knew that deep down it was what you believed, and nothing was wrong with it, but doubts crept in. everyone had doubts— whether or not they’re with the right person, whether or not they should eat this or that for lunch, but this was so much bigger than that.

you felt like a spider in a cage. though you could easily slip through the cracks, though you could easily set yourself free, you remained captive. the illusion of being trapped in this confinement, this box that you allowed yourself to be shoved in— that’s what kept you stuck. and you hated it. 

could you not do both? could you lean on faith and feelings? how could something so minuscule dictate your life? 

things seemed so black and white. there was no mix— there was no gray with God, it was always either this or that. if you choose these feelings above Him, was it eternal damnation? would He still love you after all your faults, selfish desires, your confused prayers at night? 

it wasn’t just about billie. it was about you —the parts of yourself you’d spent years trying to bury, trying to pray away, hoping they’d dissolve into nothingness. but they never did. not really. and now, with billie here, with her laugh and her eyes and the way she made you feel so seen, those parts were louder than ever.

you finally rolled onto your side, staring at the dim glow of your phone screen across the room. ignoring her text wasn’t going to make the feelings go away. you could block her number, avoid her altogether, but what would that really change? the problem wasn’t her, no— it was you.

billie wasn’t confused about who she was. she didn’t spend her nights tossed within her bedsheets, hoping and praying that her feelings would melt. you could envision her laid on her back, limbs outstretched on her mattress, dreaming peacefully about any and everything. 

oh, how you longed to feel that way. how you longed to be content with who you were, even if it wasn’t perfect. even if you did mess up, if you were wrong— or even if you were right. but fear encapsulated you. it strangled you until you lost your breath, it had wrapped itself around your soul, coiled itself around your thoughts, made you beaten and broken until your limbs felt weak.

living in fear was preferred by no one. but it kept you in line, kept you on a straight path. and if that was what it took to make you as seemingly perfect as possible, you couldn’t complain. 

it’s four in the morning when you almost fall asleep. you were so close— almost in that temporary paradise, your body nearly collapsing in the soft velvet of your sheets. but then you feel your heart groan and your eyes water, and your mind takes you to places that you hadn’t been in so long, old feelings and memories collecting dust in the back of your conscious. 

you’d known since you were younger, even before you could put words to it, that something about you didn’t fit neatly into the boxes everyone else seemed to fit into. you felt like the black sheep of your community, even though it was a secret that you kept so dear, so quiet that you couldn’t even write it down. 

you remembered being twelve, sitting in the back of a church service, gripping your knees tightly as the pastor spoke about sin, about purity, about love. you remembered how the words cut deeper than they should have, how they made you feel like something about you was broken and beyond fixable. 

“a man and a woman,” the pastor had spoken firmly, like any deviation from those words was an abomination. “that’s what love is. anything outside of that is frowned upon by God.” 

and so, that’s what you believed. that’s what you practiced. 

boys had never appealed to you before, but they did now. if it was favored by God, it was favored by you, too— and you let yourself grow wild. you liked almost every boy that you were around, and they always had interest in you back. you’d playfully flirt, go out on as many dates as you could— but the second they found something deeper, the second they’d tell you how badly they wanted to be with you, you ran. 

you ran because you knew it wasn’t real. it wasn’t fair to them, and it wasn’t fair to you, but it felt like the only way to survive. you weren’t looking for love; you were looking for approval. boys were safe, primitive, easy to explain. no one questioned you when you smiled too wide at their compliments or leaned too close during conversations. no one doubted your intentions because they were what they were supposed to be.

and for a while, you convinced yourself it was enough. you let the feeble attention fill the empty spaces, let the fleeting thrill of being wanted make you feel whole. but it never lasted. no matter how many boys you flirted with, no matter how many dates you went on, there was always that hollow feeling waiting for you afterward. that gnawing sense that you were playing a role you didn’t quite fit into.

because deep down, you knew the truth. boys didn’t set your heart racing. they didn’t make your palms sweat or your stomach flip. they didn’t leave you staring at your ceiling at 3 a.m., questioning everything you thought you knew about yourself.

but girls did.

you tried to ignore it, to push it down, to tell yourself it was a phase or a test of faith or something you could overcome with enough prayer and discipline. but no matter how hard you tried, the feelings were still there, simmering just beneath the surface. and now, with billie in the picture, they were impossible to ignore.

she wasn’t like anyone you’d ever met before— bold and unapologetic, with a laugh that made you feel lighter even when you didn’t want to be. she made you feel seen in a way that was both exhilarating and terrifying, and you hated how much you craved it. how bad you wanted it. 

because craving it meant admitting something you weren’t ready to admit. it meant acknowledging that the life you’d carefully constructed for yourself might not be the life you were meant to live. it meant stepping into uncharted territory, where nothing was certain and everything felt like a risk.

and you weren’t sure you were brave enough for that.

so you kept running. from the boys who wanted more than you could give, from the girls who made you feel too much, and from yourself most of all. you ran because staying still meant facing the truth, and the truth was messy and complicated and scary as ever.

and now, years later, those same feelings had crept back in, wrapping themselves around your chest and making it hard to breathe. was it wrong to feel this way? to feel drawn to someone who made you laugh so easily, who made the world seem a little less daunting? to want something more than the lines of scripture could explain?

your faith was supposed to be unshakable, unwavering. but right now, it felt like it was cracking under the weight of your heart, and you hated yourself for it. you wanted to be better. stronger. you wanted to want the right things, the things you were supposed to want. but billie made it so hard.

you pressed your hands to your face, letting out a shaky breath as tears slipped down your warmed cheeks. you didn’t want to be this version of yourself— the one who questioned, who doubted, who couldn’t find clarity no matter how hard she tried.

and yet, a small voice in the back of your mind whispered, soft and persistent: what if it’s not wrong?

but you couldn’t listen to that voice, not right now. not when everything you’d ever been taught, everything you believed, told you otherwise.

by the time your thoughts fall dead and slumber almost captivates you, your alarm clock jolts against your nightstand, making a groan slip between your teeth. it was five, and that meant it was time for morning Bible study. 

you felt your whole body ached as you sat up, running a tired hand through your untamed hair. your steps feel hallow and slow as you reach for the light, flicking it on gently and squinting at the sudden glare. 

you had to focus. it was a new day, with new opportunities to grow, with new possibilities and endless outcomes. you couldn’t keep letting your fears trap you, prevent you from making your days exponentially better than the last. 

‘This is the day the Lord has made. Let us rejoice and be glad in it.’ is what pushed you to pad across the cool floor of your dorm room, plopping into your desk chair with your tired eyes fixated on your Bible. 

the cover was worn and beaten, little sticky notes and page markers flooded between the sheets of the book, nearly every line highlighted in specific and special colors. 

you used to find peace in that. and you knew that you could find it again, as long as you stopped being so hard on yourself. you just needed to relax, to fall back in habit, to let yourself breathe a fresh wind. 

so you flipped your Bible open, landing in Psalms— a place you often went when your heart felt too tangled to sort out on its own. “Create in me a clean heart, O God; and renew a right spirit within me.” you whispered the words aloud to yourself, the quiet atmosphere of your room soaking the sound up, your throat dry and scratchy. 

but as you read, the usual familiar comfort didn’t come. instead, the words seemed to blur together, their meaning slipping through your fingers like water. it was like they had no weight to them— like you were just reading to read. nothing made sense anymore. 

you let out a heavy, frustrated breath, your teeth sinking into your bottom lip so hard that you were sure you’d draw blood. your mind wandered back to the night before, to billie’s text, to the way her laugh lingered in your memory, warm and inviting. you hated how easily she crept into your thoughts, how she made you question things you never thought you’d have to question, how bad she made your inability to focus. 

you shook your head, trying to regain your thoughts and start over. you placed your finger on the next line of scripture, your head aching from concentration. 

“Cast me not away from thy presence; and take not thy holy spirit from me.” is what comes next. the verse was supposed to reassure you, like it usually does— but instead, it felt like a plea, a desperate attempt to cling to something solid while your world felt like it was tilting off of its axis.

what if you were being cast away? what if your feelings for billie, these things you couldn’t control, were pulling you further and further from God? the thought made your chest tighten, guilt curling in your stomach like it was alive.

your hand froze on the page, your breath hitching. these thoughts felt like a betrayal, like a crack in the foundation of everything you believed in, everything your entire life had clung to. but all your questions and skeptics remained, undeniable and persistent, and no amount of prayer or scripture seemed to silence it.

you closed your Bible gently, resting your hands on the cover as you leaned back in your chair. your eyes drifted to the window, where the first hints of sunrise painted the sky in soft hues of pink and gold. it was beautiful, serene— a stark contrast to the living chaos inside your head.

you wanted to cry again, to let the frustration and confusion pour out of you until there was nothing left. but the tears didn’t come this time. instead, there was just a deep, aching exhaustion that settled over you like a heavy blanket.

you couldn’t think, so you prayed. it was like second nature to you, and you had your hands clasped so hard that your knuckles popped. 

the silence stretched on, and for a moment, you thought you might get an answer. but none came, just the quiet hum of the world waking up around you.

eventually, you stood, stretching your stiff limbs before heading to the bathroom to splash cold water on your face. the chill jolted you awake, chasing away the last remnants of sleep.

you glanced at your reflection in the mirror, taking in the dark circles under your eyes, the redness clinging to the edges of them. you barely recognized yourself, and that realization stung. you let out a thick sigh before heading back to your dorm, peeking into emma’s ajar door, hoping she’d be awake and willing to talk. but she was dead asleep. 

you sighed and pulled your phone off the nightstand as you walked back to your own space, billie’s message still sitting unread in your notifications. you stared at it for a long moment, your thumb hovering over the lit screen, but you didn’t respond. you couldn’t. 

your heart felt like it was waging a war against your mind, one side pulling you toward her, the other screaming for you to stay away, and draw to what was true. 

but before you could make a decision, to text back or to not— your alarm buzzed again, pulling you out of your thoughts. you sighed, setting the phone back down and grabbing your notebook instead. if you couldn’t sort out your feelings, maybe you could at least start your day right.

you sat back at your desk, pen in hand, and wrote the only thing you could think to write: God, I don’t know what to do. I need You to guide me. Please, show me what’s right.

it wasn’t the answer you wanted, but it was all you had. and for now, it would have to be enough.

✧ 8:50 am ✧

you weren’t really sure how you managed to stay awake this long. 

it’s almost nine when emma emerges from her bedroom, dolled up head to toe, her red hair pressed straight and resting gently against her shoulders. it was such a huge contrast from your gray leggings, pink hoodie, and bare face, but you still smiled when she walks into your dorm, grinning from ear to ear, “morning, sunshine. you sleep good?” 

you nearly tell a lie just to keep the peace, but it wasn’t worth the immense guilt that you’d feel later. so you shrugged, “i didn’t sleep.”

“why not?” emma questions, twirling the ends of her hair around a freshly painted fingernail, “what’s going on with you? you’re being awfully weird.” 

you shake your head at her defensively, “i’m not being weird?” 

emma squinted at you, her grin faltering as she studied your face. she didn’t speak for a second, but when she was done reading you, she cocked a brow, “you can’t lie to me, y/n. we’ve been best friends for years. and plus, you’ve got that look on your face.” 

“what look?” you asked, trying to play dumb as you picked at a loose thread on your hoodie, trying to avoid eye contact. 

you had really had enough of the pestering with her. was it so hard to leave you alone?

as much as you want her to shut up, though— she continues, her eyes narrowing. 

“the look you get when you’re overthinking really bad or you’re hiding something and you won’t tell me. is this about class? or—” she paused, narrowing her eyes even further, “hold the fuck up, is this about billie? again?”

your heart stuttered in your chest, and you immediately busied yourself with your phone, pretending to be scrolling aimlessly through apps you weren’t even paying attention to. all you could really pay attention to was the unanswered text on your phone. but you still shrugged her off, “not everything is about billie, okay? you’re like, obsessed with talking about her.” 

emma tilted her head at you with such slit eyes, you really didn’t know if she was actually looking at you. you knew deep down that you were projecting, but it seemed like the only way to push your feelings aside and be content for once. 

your best friend took a shaky breath, leaning against the edge of your desk like she was gearing up for an interrogation, “dude, what’s your issue? i mean, i ask you genuine questions to try to understand your situation, and you talk to me like i’m a fucking idiot, or like i’m the one that’s being all cold and sarcastic. fine, whatever— i’m done asking you questions. i’ll leave you alone, since that’s what you want so bad.” 

the room felt thick and heavy after emma’s outburst, her words hanging in the air like a hazy fog. you opened your mouth to say something, anything, but nothing came out. your throat croaked and cracked and you almost shed a tear, but instead, you sat there, frozen, clutching your side as guilt started to gnaw at the edges of your chest.

it’s one thing to be going through something alone, but it’s another to drag someone else into you— especially emma. you felt horrible because through any and everything, no matter the degree, she was always there for you. and this is how you repay her? with mistrust and secrecy? 

“emma, wait—” you started, but she waved you off, pushing herself up and grabbing her purse, slinging it over her shoulder with little to no care. 

“nah, it’s fine. really. i get it,” she said, her voice tight as she turned toward the door. she doesn’t face you when she speaks, she just shrugs, “you don’t want to talk about it? cool. i won’t bring it up again. ever.” 

she wasn’t yelling, not at all— but the calmness in her voice made you feel even more sick. it was the kind of tone that meant she was hurt but refusing to show it, and it made your stomach twist. you felt like your body was caving in on itself, all this stuff with billie was bad, but now emma’s mad at you, too? you felt like you were losing your grip and there was nothing you could do to stop. 

“em, i didn’t mean to—”

“save it,” she cut you off rapidly, her back still turned as she opened the door. 

and then she left. 

she didn’t wait for you to get up and run to her, to throw yourself in her arms and cry to her about how much pain you were in— she just…left. 

you rose a cold hand to wipe your watery eyes before lifting yourself off of your mattress, grabbing your belongings before heading out, starting your walk to your 9 a.m. 

it was a cold and companionless one, too. jules wasn’t there to humor you with her dry wit and dark toned jokes, no naomi to offer up her sweet spirits and constant laughter, no oliver to make you feel safe and included, even though he never talked much. 

but what killed you— what hurt you the most, is that there was no emma to tease and poke fun at you, even though you always claimed that you hated it. there was no emma to always ask you ‘are you okay?’— and not just to fill a silence, but because she actually cared. 

there was none of that. you were alone, the opposite of what you wanted to be, but it was like you couldn’t help it. you couldn’t stop yourself from being pushed into isolation, it was snowballing and squeezing you so tight with no opportunity to escape. 

emma’s absence felt louder than anything else. you replayed her words to you in your head, her sharp tone even more spiked than you had experienced beforehand, the way she didn’t even look back at you  before shutting the door making your lips curl downward. 

save it.

two words that cut deeper than she probably intended, though you couldn’t really blame her. not entirely, anyway. you had pushed her away. you’d been cold, defensive, and for what? to protect a secret you weren’t even sure you could define?

your steps felt faltered as you reached a quiet path lined with trees, the golden light filtering through their branches. it was a place you usually loved, a rare pocket of peace on a campus that always seemed to escape the loud, the too crowded. but today, it only reminded you only of how isolated you felt.

you pulled your phone out of your pocket, your thumb hovering over the screen. you choked up when you saw a picture of you and emma at your high school graduation— she was making bunny ears behind your navy blue cap, both of you smiling as you held her side tightly. 

you let out a quiet sniffle, unlocking the device and clicking on your messages to keep yourself from crying, especially right before class. but there it was again— billie’s text. the one you still hadn’t answered.

it was such a simple question— if you wanted to hang out or not, but it held so much weight. you thought about emma’s accusations, about the way your chest tightened whenever you thought about billie. she was right— you were being cold and sarcastic, and insanely secretive, even though she was only trying to help you, like a good best friend would. 

you thought about how easy it would be to type out a response, to say yes, to meet her and let yourself drown in whatever this was. whatever little thing you had going on— to let yourself bask in it, to enjoy it, because that’s what you deserved. 

but you didn’t. you didn’t respond to her text. instead, you locked your phone and shoved it back into your pocket, quickening your pace as you approached your building, pushing the doors open and heading to your class. 

when you reached the hallway to your classroom, the familiar smell of coffee and old books hit you, and you tried to let it ground you. the lecture hall was already half-full, students chatting, scrolling through their phones, or flipping through notes quickly, preparing for tests and quizzes. you walked into your psych class and found an empty seat near the back, sinking into it as you unpacked your things.

your professor’s voice droned on as the class began, but you couldn’t focus. your notebook remained blank, your pen hovering uselessly over the page. your mind kept wandering back to the morning, to emma’s disappointed face, to billie’s unanswered text, to the gnawing uncertainty that had taken root in your chest.

you thought about how easy it had been to run from boys. to shut them out when they got too close, when they wanted more than you could give. it was almost second nature, a defense mechanism you’d perfected over the years.

but with billie, it was different. you didn’t want to run. you wanted to stay, to see where this could go, even if it terrified you. even if it meant confronting parts of yourself you weren’t ready to face.

your pen pressed into the paper, the ink smudging messily as you scribbled aimlessly, trying to distract yourself. but the more you tried to focus, the more your thoughts spiraled.

is this what it feels like to lose yourself?

the thought came unbidden, sharp and cold. you stared down at your notebook, the words and lines blurring together as your vision swam.

you clenched your jaw, forcing yourself to take a deep breath. you couldn’t fall apart here, not now. not in class, and not when the day had only just begun.

the lecture dragged on, each minute feeling like an eternity. you were completely lost, missing virtually everything that your teacher was saying. you tried to hold out as long as you could, but to no avail, you were just…confused. 

when class finally ended, you packed up your things quickly, keeping your head down as you made your way out.

the hallway was crowded, voices and footsteps blending into a chaotic hum. you slipped through the throng of students, little ‘excuse me’s and ‘i’m sorry’s slipping through your lips as you bumped into shoulders and bags. your mind was still tangled in a mess of feelings you couldn’t untangle, and it felt just like this hallway was— a blurry sea, a messy mix, a path almost impassable. 

and as you stepped out into the sunlight, the weight in your chest felt heavier than ever, pressing down with every step you took, every move that you made. 

you contemplated on skipping class, but the fear of your grades slipping was what kept you pushing down the sidewalk, and you were so lost in your thoughts that you didn’t realize emma was perched on a stone hedge, chatting with some guy from her class. 

she gives you a glance, and then she sighs, looking back at the brunette with sparkling eyes, completely unaware of your presence as you kept walking. 

it made you feel horrible that she was upset with you. she was doing just what she said— dropping it. just like you wanted, right? 

but deep down, you wished she just pushed one more time. asked you how you were feeling again, and you’d finally tell her— you’d break down in her arms and hold her, letting all your confusion and doubts fall at her shoulders. but it was too late now. 

your next class is math, and it’s definitely your easiest, so you don’t stress about being attentive. you find another seat in the back and pull your phone out, lost in recent texts and instagram posts that you had ignored from the night before. 

you really needed to make a solid decision. this constant confusion wasn’t in your favor, and living in constant fear and frustration wasn’t ideal. but everytime you think you’re set on something, it fades into gray, and doubts began to creep in. 

it was driving you absolutely crazy. 

you sniffle quietly, slumping further into your seat that you’re comfortable, but not enough to make it seem like you’re not paying attention. though your teacher can sense otherwise. 

“y/n?” 

“hm?” you hum back, and your professor gives you a cocked brow, her eyes beaming into your own. 

“the answer?” she asks you, and the class’ mumbles fall silent, “are you paying attention?” 

“uhm…” is all you say, your eyes welling up. she just offers you a look of disappointment, “we have a quiz friday. please pay attention.” 

you give your teacher a slow nod, and that was your breaking point. you slumped your head into the desk, tears flowing silently down your face as you tried to keep your sniffling to a minimum. a frown meets your lips as you hope and pray this class goes by quicker than it feels. 

when it finally does end, professor walkins meets you at your desk as you grab your things, her hand resting on the wooden surface, “is everything okay, honey?” 

she can see right through your teary eyes, even though you nod your head at her. the last thing you needed was to appear seemingly off to everyone around you— especially people that didn’t even know you at all. 

“i’m sorry that i embarrassed you,” mrs. walkins apologized, “i understand now. but whatever it is, it’ll pass. have a good day, sweetie.” 

and then she’s off, her heels clacking against the floor with her briefcase in hand, slipping through the door. you follow her after a second, down the hall with your earbuds tucked in your ears, thinking about her words longingly. 

whatever it is, it’ll pass. 

you wish it just would already. 

the hallways are still just as crowded as they were after your first class, but you thanked God that you only had two classes today, because you didn’t really think you could hold it together much longer. 

you’re walking out the building when you see a figure slumped against a brick wall, a cigarette in hand and long, black hair flowing in the autumn wind. it’s billie. 

you hadn’t expected to see her all day, and you thought you were doing a good job at avoiding her. but of course, her being her— she finds a way to pop up randomly, right when you don’t need her to. 

she’s effortlessly beautiful as always. her hair is braided on the sides, though some loose strands find themselves engulfed in the wind, curling around her face. her eyelashes look long even from a distance, and she’s clad in a pair of baggy jeans paired with a navy blue sweater, a white tee underneath. a tote bag slouches on her shoulders as she takes another drag of her cigarette, and you try your hardest to go unnoticed by her, your eyes captivated by her. 

you want to look at her forever. she’s so pretty that it feels like it’ll hurt if you take your eyes off her, but you feel your heart squeeze with guilt as you blink, debating whether or not you should go up to her and say something. 

but you couldn’t push everyone in your life away. she was the only person who wasn’t upset with you or pestering you with a bunch of questions, and you longed for peace, even if it was just for a moment. 

you looked down at your phone, and nothing but a Bible app notification waited for you. no calls or texts from emma, naomi, oliver, jules— you literally had nothing from anyone in your entire friend group. 

“hey, little drummer girl.” 

your eyes travel to billie’s figure that’s still slumped against the wall behind her, her head now turned to look at you. her cheeks are red due to the harsh winds that float through the air, her eyes blinking rapidly to keep the cool breeze from making tears form in her pretty, blue orbs. 

you bit your lip, really hoping that you could’ve stayed out of her view for just a second longer. you only liked looking at her when she didn’t notice— because then, she couldn’t look at you back. and you could stare as long as you wanted. but now that she had noticed you, she’d offer that eye contact that she always did— the kind that made your heart flutter, made your mind wander, made your pupils grow. 

neither of you move for a second. and then you step forward before you can really think, your nikes scuffing the pavement as you find your own spot on the wall next to billie. you flash her a weak smile, “hi, billie.” 

she seems to elate in the way you say her name, or maybe it’s the way you dragged over to her so quickly— whatever it is, it’s enough to soften her edges. she just shakes her head at you, “your class just end?” 

“yeah,” you nod, shoving your hands into your hoodie, “math. not eventful at all.” 

billie hums, and you expect her to tell you about how her class was, but she doesn’t. she’s quieter than usual, and you can infer that it’s probably about the message that she sent you, which was still…unanswered. 

and now that you were standing in front of her, it made things a little more awkward. you tried to muster up an excuse to brush things over with, but you came up with absolutely nothing. 

the air between you felt hot, like tension was raining on the both of you. you just stayed silent for a moment, watching as billie took another hit of her cigarette, her lips pursing like she was thinking really hard about something. 

your heart was pounding in your chest. you couldn’t think straight— if billie was upset at you, that was pretty much it. you’d have virtually nothing left, and even though the two of you were only beginning to get close, she was a good friend, and had a caring spirit. 

you take initiative to speak, and you’re honest when you do so, “i saw your text.” 

billie pauses for a second. she takes another slow drag of her cigarette, the smoking curling around her face and fading into the wind as her eyes flicker to yours, “yeah? and?”

you can’t mess this up. you can’t keep running, avoiding everyone who actually cared about you, and you definitely couldn’t keep pushing everyone off just because you were going through…whatever this was. so you take a deep breath, shifting on your feet, your fingers curling into fists in your pocket.

“and… um, i didn’t know what to say. or—” you hesitate, the words catching in your throat. was it too soon to be so honest? 

you take a deep breath.

“i just didn’t want to say the…wrong thing.”

billie’s brows knit together slightly at your words, her expression almost unreadable as she watches you. she takes you in— your somber eyes, your withdrawn body language— she studies you, like she always does. her cigarette lingers between her fingers, smoke curling up into the air like a question mark. you feel your chest tighten under her gaze, her silence pressing into you harder than any words she could ever say.

“why would you think you’d say the wrong thing, y/n?” she asks finally, her voice softer than you expected. there’s no edge to it, no sharpness— just genuine curiosity. it’s almost worse because it means she’s taking you seriously, she called you by your name, and that’s almost unheard of. 

you glance down at your shoes, scuffing the toe of one against the pavement as you search for words, but they’re somewhere in the back of your mind, buried beneath layers of doubt and second-guessing.

“i don’t know,” you mumble, your voice hardly even audible, “i just… i guess i didn’t want to mess things up. billie…i’m…i’m confused.”

there. you said it. the truth hangs in the air between you, raw and vulnerable, and you can’t bring yourself to look at her. not yet.

billie lets out a small sigh, one that sounds more thoughtful than frustrated, and it makes you glance up at her, just for a second. her lips are pressed into a faint line, her head tilted slightly as if she’s trying to figure you out.

“you’re not gonna mess things up,” she reassures you, and there’s a certainty in her tone that makes your chest ache. “at least, not with me. i don’t know what’s been up with you, but… i don’t scare off that easy.”

you want to believe her, but the knot in your stomach tightens anyway. it’s not just about billie— it’s about everything. your friends, your classes, your entire life feeling like it’s slipping out of your hands faster than you can hold on. faith was the only anchor you had, and even that felt like it was fleeting— like you really had nothing left.

nothing but these jangled emotions that you couldn’t figure out.

“it’s not you,” you admit, your voice trembling slightly. it was kind of untruthful, but you didn’t care. it was already a blessing that billie was listening to you right now, so you tried to get at least some of your emotions out, practically begging for advice.

“it’s… everything. i feel like i’m messing up all over the place, and i don’t know how to fix it. i don’t even know where to start. i’m a wreck.”

the confession spills out of you before you can stop it, and you bite down hard on the soft inside of your cheek, trying to keep the tears at bay. the last thing you need is to cry in front of billie, but the lump in your throat is making it harder and harder to breathe.

billie doesn’t say anything right away, and for a second, you think you’ve said too much. you think she’s going to brush you off or change the subject, but instead, she shifts her weight, her shoulder bumping yours lightly.

“start small,” she says, her voice low and steady, “you don’t have to figure everything out all at once. just… take it one step at a time. one thing at a time. you seem like the type of person to drive yourself batshit until you’re bruised and beaten. yeah, don’t do that. don’t do it to yourself.”

her words aren’t groundbreaking or revolutionary, but something about the way she says them— the calm certainty in her voice— makes you feel like maybe she’s right. maybe you don’t have to have all the answers right now, and that’s okay. 

your problem was that you never let yourself feel for too long. it wasn’t like you were numb, but you weren’t always present, either. you always thought that you were running out of time, and every mess-up or mishap was cutting it shorter and shorter. but you couldn’t do that anymore. these aren’t the types of feelings that you solve just within a few days, no— they linger, they sting, and getting rid of them or making sense of them altogether wasn’t something that would just happen overnight. 

you strived for perfection, and it wasn’t really your fault. it was all you had ever known.

growing up, your best wasn’t enough— because you could always be better. you could always make better grades, say long prayers, memorize more scriptures. and you worked at it everyday, fixing and molding yourself into a box that even you were too small to fit into. 

you aimed for perfection, but it was never enough— because better always lingered just out of reach, whispering that you were still falling short, but looking back to make sure that you were still chasing it. 

you feel your chest tighten.

you glance at billie, and she’s looking at you, her blue eyes softer than you’ve ever seen them. it’s almost too much, the way she looks at you like she actually cares, like she’s not just saying this to make you feel better but because she means it.

“i’m serious,” she adds, a small smile tugging at the corner of her lips. “you’re tougher than you think, saint. you’ve just gotta give yourself a break.”

you let out a shaky breath, her words settling over you like a warm, heated blanket. it doesn’t fix everything— it honestly doesn’t even fix most things— but it makes the weight on your chest feel just a little bit lighter.

“thanks,” you say softly, and it’s not enough, but it’s all you can manage.

billie shrugs, taking another drag of her cigarette before flicking it to the ground and stamping it out with the heel of her sneakers, “anytime,” she says, and you know she means it.

the two of you stand there for a while, the silence between you no longer heavy but something closer to comforting. the wind picks up, tugging at your hoodie and billie’s loose strands of hair, and for the first time all day, you felt safer. more secure. 

“so…” billie starts, “what’s this little secret that’s making you like this, anyways?”

it hurts not to tell her. after everything that she’s said, after she went all soft on you, you almost feel inclined to tell her, but you hold your tongue, avoiding words that even you yourself haven’t admitted. 

her voice is light, teasing, but her eyes are locked on you, blue and piercing, like they’re sifting through every layer you’ve built carefully to keep the truth hidden. you feel the weight of her question settle in your chest, pressing hard against the fragile walls you’ve tried so desperately to reinforce.

you swallow, your throat tight. the words are there— just barely formed, barely coherent— but you can’t let them out. not here. not right now.

“it’s nothing,” you mumble, your hands fidgeting in the pocket of your hoodie, fingers finding loose threads to pull at anxiously, “just… stuff.”

billie raises an eyebrow, unconvinced at your statement, “stuff?” she repeats, leaning her shoulder against the wall further, wrapping her arms around her body, “you’ve been walking around like a fucking zombie, and you expect me to buy ‘stuff’? come on, virgin mary. try harder.”

you wince at her words— not because they’re harsh, but because they’re not. she’s right. and her tone is steady, patient, even playful, and that makes it so much harder to hold back. you almost feel inclined to confide in her, but you hold your tongue.

“i’m fine, billie,” you say, forcing a smile that feels heavy, “really.”

“you’re such a bad liar.” she says after a beat, her lips quirking up in a small, but sad smile.

your stomach twists, and for a moment, you think about spilling everything— about the guilt that weighs you down, the doubt that claws at your insides, the way your heart aches and your mind won’t stop spinning. you think about telling her how you feel like you’re falling apart, how you’re scared that if you let anyone see the mess inside you, they’ll walk away like everyone else seems to.

but you can’t. so you lie. 

and for the first time, you don’t really feel guilty about it.

“guess i’ll have to work on that,” you say instead, your voice quieter than you mean it to be, “but it's still nothing.”

billie’s done fighting it. she sighs when she looks at you, though you can tell it’s full of understanding. she leans in closer to you, her hand lightly brushing your own as gives you eyes that are scribbled with words that you can decipher, even though she doesn’t say them. you just know. 

you had to get out of this headspace, out of this environment. it wasn’t good for you. 

you felt sick, yet numb all at once. your heart was aching like none other, every nerve in your body felt like they were dying on you, like you were frozen. 

but you can’t go on like that. you can’t keep pretending like isolation is preferred by you, like being alone is your remedy for the exhaustion you were feeling. 

you don’t move away from billie’s light touch. you bask in it for a second, “billie?”

she hums at you, her eyebrows quirking at the sound of her name. it falls sweetly off of your tongue, and you let your eyes bore into hers for a second before speaking lowly, quietly. 

“can we still hang out?” 

the smile that creeps onto her face is priceless, and she tries to keep her composure as she nods fervently, “i’d thought you’d never ask, sunday school. yeah. let’s go.”

you nod at her, walking beside her as you make your way to the student parking lot. billie doesn’t say much when you leave the building together, her steps slow and deliberate. you follow close behind her in silence, her tote bag slung lazily over one shoulder, the faint scent of cigarette smoke still clinging to her sweater. it’s not uncomfortable, the quiet between you two— billie has a way of filling silences without saying a word. but it still makes your stomach churn because you know she’s waiting for you to speak first, like she always does. 

“so… where are we going?” you finally ask, your voice a little louder now as you trail a step behind her.

“you’ll see.”

the walk to her old, black mustang isn’t far. you can tell it’s one of those vintage cars that people go crazy about, and the model makes you examine the vehicle with curiosity as she unlocks the door. it smells faintly of lavender air freshener and leather, mixed with a little smoke, and the mix of scents makes your nose flair. 

you climb into the passenger seat, pulling your hoodie tighter around you as billie starts the engine, reaching to flicker on the heat before looking at the road intently, pulling off into it. the soft hum of the radio fills the space, some indie song playing faintly in the background.

the drive is honestly not that long, but it feels like forever. you don’t ask where you’re going again, too caught up in your own thoughts to care. you’re just happy that you’re finally going out, happy that you’re giving yourself the chance to escape yourself and relax a little bit.

“i’m gonna take us somewhere that’ll calm you down a little,” is what billie says as she pulls off an exit of the highway and onto the main road again. that gets you a little bit more giddy.

you’re hoping that she’ll take you somewhere that you’ll find a little peace— a bookstore, church, maybe even to God himself, but the smile that has found its way onto your face quickly fades when you pull into a huge brick building, with red lighting that looks like your absolute worst nightmare.

it’s a rage room. 

as billie pulls into a parking spot, you let out a vulnerable whine, “billie, really? a rage room?”

“you’ve never experienced real peace until your throwing shit against the wall and screaming your heart out,” she giggles, putting the car in park and pausing the music, “you’ll like it. i promise.”

you feel cool air wisp against your face as you open the passenger door, circling back around billie’s car as you both start to walk in the building, “i’m gonna hate this.” 

she just giggles at you, her laugh strong and reassuring, though you’re face doesn’t even flinch. this wasn’t what you had in mind at all, but you’re here now— so you might as well make the most of it, you think. 

as you both step inside the building, the cold air from the outside seems to follow you in, hitting you with a rush of discomfort as you glance around. the walls are lined with shelves of broken, donated items, but the most expensive ones are locked up, probably just for display. there’s a pool table in a separate room to your left, and to your right is a bar with people sitting on red and black stools, listening to soft jazz and laughing as they take sips from their drinks. it's loud, chaotic, and everything inside your mind is screaming to leave, but you try to hold it together as you and billie step up to the front.

a clerk behind the counter, with a bored expression on their face, glances up at you both before clicking some button on the register, “do y’all want the couple deal?” they ask, with a rehearsed tone and very tired, droopy eyes.

billie glances at you before answering, her eyes glinting with mischief. and then she shrugs, “yeah, sure, why not?”

you blink, slightly taken aback by her quick agreement. the words settle in your mind, making you think for a second. it’s not the kind of thing you’d expect someone to do in the heat of the moment— but then again, billie was always the type to go with the flow, to not think twice, especially if it meant saving a few bucks.

but still, couple deal? that’s what this place calls it? you can't help but wonder for a second, what does it mean for her? does it feel like something meaningful? was it just about saving some money? you glance sideways at her as she hands the clerk her card, and the thought quickly slips away. she’s too calm about this— she honestly doesn’t seem to care, so why should you?

the clerk nods and hands billie her card back, muttering a slow ‘follow me.’ as billie leads the way further into the chaos of the establishment. you can feel the weight of uncertainty creeping up on you, the buzzing fluorescent lights overhead seeming to hum louder as you pass the racks of broken, smashed objects, and your stomach flips in a way you can’t ignore. what kind of place is this, really? the air smells faintly of old dust and something metallic, mixed with alcohol and smoke, and your nerves feel like they’re tightening with each step that you take.

billie’s excitement is almost tangible. she’s practically bouncing on her heels, eyes glinting with that spark she always has when she’s onto something she’s sure you’ll hate, yet she knows you’ll secretly love. secretly, because you haven’t fully let go yet. you haven’t let yourself give in to the absolute absurdity of this place.

the clerk motions for you both to follow, guiding you over to a corner of the room where various protective gear is lined up— thick plastic helmets, gloves, goggles, and heavy jackets that look like they belong to someone working with power tools. you pick up the jacket, feeling its weight in your hands before sliding it on. it’s heavy, and as you zip it up, it feels more like a costume than something that’ll actually protect you from the wreckage of sharp objects and whatever else this place had for you to throw around.

you glance at billie as she straps a helmet over her two dutch braids. she’s grinning like a kid in a candy store, and for a moment, you almost wish you could share her enthusiasm. but you don’t. the look on your face has ‘i want to go home’ written all over it as she looks at you, giving a playful wink that’s so contrast from how you’re feeling underneath this gigantic jacket and helmet.

“you ready to break some shit?” she asks, her voice practically bouncing with energy as she shook out her arms, watching you slide on a pair of thick goggles to protect your eyes. you swallow, tightening the straps of your gloves as your heart pounds in your chest. you’ve never felt so out of place, so off-kilter. there’s something wrong about all of this, something about the whole idea that makes your insides twist. what is this even supposed to fix?

but you keep your mouth shut, not wanting to be the buzzkill— not wanting to ruin this for billie, who’s already bouncing on her heels, waiting to see you finally let loose and throw something across the room. you sigh and force a smile for her, though you’re hardly feeling it.

“i mean, i guess,” you mumble, “let’s do it.”

billie’s grin widens at your answer, and you wish you could feel it too— that spark, that joy she gets from the chaos of whatever you could call this place. but right now, all you feel is the weight of the unknown, the tension in your shoulders, the knot of anxiety that wraps around your throat.

the clerk leads you both into the actual rage room. it's a huge space, walls lined with thick, cushioned coverings, and in the center is a table stacked high with glass bottles, plates, mugs, and other objects begging to be destroyed. it’s all there for the taking— for the throwing, the smashing, the shattering. your feet feel impossibly heavy as you step inside, like you're walking into a trap that you led yourself into. you can feel the weight of your own breath underneath the thick jacket that swallowed your whole frame whole, shallow and quick, as if your body knows that something’s about to happen.

the clerk gestures to the pile of objects, “pick what you want,” they say with a shrug. “nothing’s off-limits. have fun.”

and then they’re off. 

billie wastes no time to get active. she picks up a wine bottle and taps it against her palm, eyes shining with mischievous excitement, “you pick something too,” she says, tossing the bottle lightly in the air before catching it again, “we’ll throw it at the same time.”

you look at the pile of objects, feeling strangely detached from every single one of them. there’s a weird sense of distance between you and everything in this room. what’s the point of this again?

but then, you reach for a plate. it’s small and unassuming, a simple ceramic dish that’s decorated with an intricate pink and blue lining, painted on the perimeter. you hold it in your hand, turning it over, weighing the weight of it in your palm. it’s just a plate— just a thing that could be easily replaced, something that’s meant to hold food, to be useful.

but right now, it’s in your hands, and the urge to throw it across the room— to hear the crash, to watch it break into pieces— suddenly seems strangely satisfying. you glance over at billie, “let’s do it.”

she cheers at you, her stance becoming heftier as she readies herself to hurl the bottle against the wall.

“ready? she asks you, and when you nod reassuringly, she’s ready, too. 

“one, two, three!”

you raise your hand and swing it as hard as you can, your ears splitting as you hear glass and plastic crack against the wall. your plate and billie’s bottle crash all at once, and at first, you feel a little guilty. 

billie lets out a laugh, her leg raising as she claps at you, “fuck yeah! do it again!”

you’re trying to collect your thoughts, looking at billie, who’s already swung another bottle against the wall, the shattering sound ringing out like a loud cheer. she’s laughing, loud and free, picking up things and smashing them onto the ground like there’s no tomorrow.

can you let go, too?

the question lingers in your mind as you reach across the table to pick up another plate. billie’s looking at you now, waiting for you to throw it. she knows you’re hesitating, knows that you’re struggling with this whole thing just by the look on your face. but she doesn’t push you. instead, she just stands there, the light of anticipation still burning in her eyes.

you take a deep breath, a shaky one, as your fingers tighten around the plate.

“you sure you’re okay?” billie asks, her voice softer now, sensing the tension that’s still there. you nod, though it’s half-hearted, because you’re not really sure if you are. but she smiles again, a little softer this time, and for a moment, you forget all about the chaos, all about the fear of breaking.

maybe it’s just about the release.

you throw the plate. it doesn’t fly the way you imagine it would this time, but it hits the wall hard enough, sending shards flying across the room in a messy explosion. the sound of it is loud, harsh, and something inside of you shudders, but it’s not bad— it’s not as bad as you thought it would be.

billie cheers, clapping her hands, her smile wide and unguarded, “hey, see? i told you you’d like it!”

you don’t know if you liked it, but the rush of breaking something— of letting it go, just for a moment— does something to you. you’re usually much more reserved, but you’d be lying if you said you didn’t like the way the plate had laid victim to your throw, how it crumbled so quickly against the wall. something cracks open in your chest, just enough to let the air in. you feel lighter, in a way. still unsettled, still unsure, but alas, lighter.

billie picks up a plate that’s a little bigger than yours, ready to throw it herself. you can’t help but watch her, the way she seems so in tune with this whole mess. she doesn’t care about the mess, the chaos. she just wants the release.

you wonder what it would be like, to let go that easily. to not care about what comes after. to just be.

you want it too.

as billie throws the porcelain— the sound of it smashing against the wall echoing through the room— you can’t help but feel a flicker of something inside of you. it’s not peace. nothing of that sort. but it’s something. and maybe that’s enough for now.

the next few minutes pass in a blur of noise, motion, and broken things. billie and you are tossing objects back and forth, laughing manically as you throw things across the room, your arms feeling lighter with each smash. the tension in your body begins to ebb away, and for the first time in what feels like forever, your mind is completely empty— just the satisfying sound of glass shattering and the feeling of letting go.

billie’s face lights up with each throw, and she grins at you after each object breaks into a thousand pieces. “you’re getting the hang of it!” she shouts over the noise, her voice half-laugh, half-scream. her eyes are wild, her hair falling out of her braids as she throws another bottle, the force enough to send it flying across the room. it crashes against the wall with a satisfying thud, and she jumps, her laugh echoing.

you can’t help but laugh too, the sound a little less guarded now, a little more free. your body moves on autopilot as you pick up the next object— a ceramic mug, its chipped edges jagged in your hand. you feel the rush of adrenaline again, the beat of your heart quickening as you swing it towards the wall, flinging it as hard as you can.

crash!

the mug shatters, and for a second, you stand there, your breath coming faster than it should. the world around you is loud, but you’re starting to feel lighter, like all that tension you’ve been carrying is slowly starting to fade. billie’s right there beside you, giggling, grabbing more stuff to toss. you both keep going, throwing, screaming, until your arm aches and your throat is sore from all the yelling.

then, in the middle of a particularly wild throw, your hand brushes against a jagged piece of glass. the sharp sting of pain lances through your palm, and you gasp, pulling your hand back instinctively. the glass shard had sliced across your skin, leaving a thin but pretty deep cut.

“oh my gosh!” you scream, clutching your hand as blood starts to trickle down your fingers, crimson red dripping onto your leggings.

billie notices immediately that you’re hurt, her eyes flicking to your hand, “whoa, hey— are you okay?” she says, her voice immediately serious, her playful demeanor melting away like snow in the beaming sun as she takes a step toward you.

you nod, gritting your teeth. “y-yeah, it’s just a cut. i’ll be…i’ll be fine.”

she frowns, shaking her head, “no, c’mere and let me see.” 

before you can protest, she gently grabs your injured hand, inspecting it with a mix of concern and attentive focus. her touch is soft, and for some reason, it makes your heart race in a way that feels entirely out of place.

this wasn’t the time for that.

you take a sharp breath, the intensity of the moment settling in your chest. “it’s not that bad,” you say, trying to downplay how hurt you were, but there’s something in the way billie’s holding your hand— tender and careful— that makes the air between you two suddenly shift.

"you're really hurt," billie murmurs, her voice quieter now, and the seriousness of it hits you harder than it should. you swallow hard, your pulse picking up again, but this time it’s different—slower, deeper.

“it's just a cut,” you say again, but it comes out softer this time. billie’s gaze flickers down to your hand, then up to your face, and before you can say another word, she’s pulling herself out of the gear and tossing it onto the ground. you’re unable to even move your arm without it aching, and billie seems to understand that, so she pulls your jacket and goggles off for you, adding to the pile of her own discarded protection. 

she then pulls you out of the rage room, guiding you towards the door with her hand on your arm, another on your shoulder. you follow mindlessly feeling strangely disoriented by how close you’re standing and with the mix of pain that won’t stop shooting up your arm. 

once you’re outside, the cool night air hits you, a sharp contrast to the heat that’s inside. billie leads you over to her car, her fingers still lightly brushing against yours as she pulls open the door and motions for you to sit. you get in, still slightly stunned by how everything literally just shifted in the span of a few minutes.

billie opens the glove compartment and pulls out a first aid kit, all business now, her eyes focused as she looks at your hand, “I’m gonna patch it up, okay?” 

“okay.” you nod, feeling a strange wave of warmth flood your chest despite the discomfort in your palm. you whine as billie grabs a wipe, tearing it open with her teeth before giving you soft eyes. 

“i’m so sorry, but this shit is gonna burn.” she whispers before gently cleaning the cut, and the alcohol content makes you feel like your whole hand is splitting open. 

“i know, i know, i’m sorry.” she apologizes, wrapping a bandage around your palm slowly, sweetly, like she doesn’t want to hurt you any further. her touch is soft, her movements careful and steady, and every now and then, her fingers brush against your skin in a way that feels intentional, like she’s lingering, even if just for a second.

you’re still caught in the aftershock of the moment— of the rage room, of throwing things back and both, of the way her touch feels, of the wild energy between you. you try to focus on the sting of the cut, but your mind keeps drifting back to her, to how close you are, to the way her eyes meet yours with that subtle, knowing look.

she finishes wrapping your hand, her fingers lingering on your wrist as she looks up at you, her expression softer than you expected. “better?” she asks with a small smile, but there’s something in her gaze that makes you pause. 

“yeah…a little better…thanks.” you whisper, your voice unexpectedly shaky as you try to keep your cool, ignoring the throbbing pain that has slithered its way up your wrist. 

billie’s smile deepens as she leans closer to finish the wrap tightly, her breath warm against your cheek, “you sure you’re okay, for real?” 

you want to say yes. you want to pretend like everything’s fine, like you’re not feeling that strange flutter in your chest, the one that’s completely at odds with the chaos of previous events. but the way she’s looking at you makes it impossible to ignore. there’s an energy between you, a spark that’s been there all along, but now it’s real— too real to deny.

and then, before you can stop yourself, you’re leaning in, closing the distance between you and her, your lips finding hers in a kiss that’s sudden and full of heat. her lips are soft, and for a second, everything around you goes quiet—just the feel of her, the pressure of her mouth against yours, the warmth of her body close to yours as she presses against you. 

when the kiss breaks, your heart is racing, your skin flushed and hot. 

shit. you’re in trouble. 

billie pulls away, her eyes dark, her lips slightly parted as she looks at you, “y/n?” 

you sit up abruptly, the energy shifting immediately as you run a finger over your lips, and tears are already forming. your mind is spinning, your chest is pounding, and you can’t deal with this right now— can’t deal with the weight of it all, the electricity between you that’s starting to feel way too heavy for you to bear. without another word, you grab your things and storm out of the car, slamming the door behind you, your breath coming fast and uneven as you walk quickly, walking to somewhere, anywhere that can get you out of this situation. 

billie watches you go, calling after you, but you keep walking. your breaths come shallow and uneven as you pull out your phone. there’s only one person that can help you fix this, one person that can make a good enough cover up after the horrible thing that just took place.

you click on your contacts and hold the phone up to your ear, hoping and praying that they pick up.

you hear the line connect on the other side, and your breath hitches as you hear a deeper voice sound through the device, “hello?”

“oliver,” you breathe out, “i need your help.”

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[myonexox]

Enhypen Jay Oneshot

pairing : boyfriend!jay x female!reader pov : he kisses your forehead during an argument to calm you down the atmosphere in the living room was tense. you stood with your arms crossed and your eyes locked with jay's. his sharp jawline was set as he stared back at you, equally frustrated.

"i just don’t understand why you can’t see my side of things!" you exclaimed, your voice breaking slightly, betraying the hurt underneath your anger. "every time we have a disagreement, you shut me out instead of talking to me!"

he let out a sigh, running a hand through his jet-black hair. "it’s not that i don’t want to talk to you" he said, his voice lower but no less firm. "sometimes i just need time to process things. why can’t you understand that?"

"because it feels like you’re pushing me away!" you shot back, your chest rising and falling as you tried to control your anger. "i’m your girlfriend, jay. i’m supposed to be the one you can talk to, not the one you avoid"

the room seemed to shrink as the weight of your words settled between you. his lips parted as if to respond but he hesitated, his gaze dropping to the floor. the silence was deafening and the lump in your throat grew heavier.

finally, he looked up, his eyes softer now. "i’m not good at this" he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "i’m not good at... expressing myself. but it doesn’t mean i don’t care"

you opened your mouth to respond but the words caught in your throat as your emotions surged. frustration, hurt, love, they all tangled together, making it hard to think clearly. "then show me, jay" you said, your voice trembling. "show me that you care instead of shutting me out every time things get hard"

he took a step closer to you. "you think i don’t want to?" he said, his tone more pleading now. "you think it’s easy for me to see you upset and not know how to fix it?"

"then stop making it so complicated!" you shot back, your voice raising again. "stop making me feel like i’m the only one fighting for this relationship!"

before you could say anything more, he closed the distance between you in one swift movement. his hands gently cupped your face, his thumbs brushing against your cheeks as he leaned in and pressed a kiss to your forehead.

the gesture caught you completely off guard, your breath hitching as you felt the warmth of his lips on your skin. "i’m sorry" he murmured against your forehead, his voice soft and sincere. "i don’t mean to hurt you. i’m trying, i swear"

your arms which had been tensely crossed, slowly dropped to your sides. the fight drained out of you, replaced by a mix of confusion and tenderness. you pulled back slightly just enough to look into his eyes which were now filled with a vulnerability that made your heart ache.

"jay..." you began but the words failed you. instead, you rested your forehead against his, closing your eyes as you let out a shaky breath.

for a moment, neither of you spoke. jay’s hands slid down to rest on your waist, pulling your body closer to him. "i'm so sorry, please forgive me. i know i shouldn't do that to you, i shouldn't shut you out like that. i'm sorry. please, i promise i won't do that again. i don’t want to lose you over my stupid pride"

you looked at him, your heart swelling at the sincerity in his words. he wrapped his arms around you, pulling your head to rest on his chest. "forgive me, hm?" he mumbled. you softly chuckled and just nodded.

[bathypelagicbutch]

the first time i was treated even remotely respectfully in public when i first transitioned was at 3am in a 24 hour pizza place while high out of my mind on shrooms. i was in full drag with a full face and it was the first and only time i was ever gendered correctly and respectfully in a public place while presenting femme. i pass now, and I'm thankful that i do, but the amount of effort I've had to put into making my body as acceptable as possible for people just so i don't get harassed for more reasons than being Black in places i don't belong (super white grad school lmao) is wild. i shouldn't have to make myself look like you want me to fuck you for you to respect me, and it really shouldn't be that hard for queer people to realise that that is literally what most of society, including white queers, forces us to do. there's a weird intersection with Blackness and masculinity for both Black men and women that i feel gets pointed out a lot, but i feel like the hypermasculinisation of Black women unless they present sufficiently slutty is something that only gets talked about at length for cis Black women and queer Black women in general. mainly because whenever the dolls try to bring it up the only response is immediate horniness or complete denial. it's also interesting that when i started presenting more masc i started passing, but since then the amount of horny white people who've been unable to remove the rupaulified fucktoy version of me in their brain for long enough to listen to me when i try to talk about how much it sucks being butch and trans has increased. exponentially. you all have too many issues with Black men to even notice how your racism affects every part of how you view Blackness in general.

speaking of! follow up to that earlier thing i said about not being able to be masc and trans without ppl needing to remind you that they only support you for your ability to fuck them ‐ it's worse when you're Black, and you white queens do it too. and i really don't think you realise you do! because I've talked about this with almost every person I've been with (if I've even been allowed to before being dismissed without a hint of concern) and most of them just admitted to doing this at some point in our relationship. so instead of being philosophical I'll just use a few examples from the past 3 years (because they get worse if you go earlier and also i. do not have to)

you don't get to call me sir in bed because I'm masc and you said you want to treat me like a guy in bed (you're gay please stop confusing Black masculinity for being a man and work on your issues before fucking me) and you especially don't get to use this as leverage against me whenever i discuss how racist the relationship dynamic is despite your incredibly vocal support of my activism. you don't get to use my body or the right to demand that i use your body because you have a fetish for Black men, and you aren't allowed to get upset when i point out that this is the most supportive attitude you've had towards any part of me the entire time we've been together. you don't get to take out your frustration against Black people or Black men by making me fuck you, and again you don't get to get upset when i point out how fucked up that is that you call yourself an ally and then only use that allyship to get dicked down. you don't get to assume that because I'm Black and masc i'm the most aggressive top you've ever come across and you don't get to white woman tears your way out of it by using your own transness as a pass. you aren't allowed to enjoy Black bodies if we're only a commodity to you (which you openly admit) and you similarly don't get to white woman tears your eay out of it by using your confused sexuality as a pass.

i think I've made my point so I'm gonna stop! but yeah can you all be normal about Black people thanks a million blushes sweetly

kinda uncomfortable how ppl cant celebrate black trans women unless they are superduperhyperfeminine with 19 layers of makeup + expensive surgeries/weaves/dresses and looking like theyre going to walk the red carpet every day

[moonlit-imagines]

Took a Bullet

Jason Todd x reader

warnings: GUNS BLOOD WEAPONS INJURY

a/n: AYO ANON I LIED I STILL HAD MORE FROM YOU YAAYYYYY!!! i sowwy it is a little short

prompt: anon 🥀: “I've been in a jason todd mood as of lately (I'm literally so obsessed with him) and wanted to request a jason one-shot where it's a sort of enemies/ rivals-to-lovers type of dynamic where reader is another anti-hero who always ends up beating jason to jobs/ stealing his thunder by taking out whatever baddie he was after before he could do it? And then one time they have to work together to take down a criminal and reader gets severely injured (not fatally) so jason gets all protective. Then jason takes reader back to his safe house and patches them up, scolding them for making such a reckless move, which gets them talking and a confession ensues.”

“Well, what do you want to do?” Red Hood sarcastically asked you after you shot down his last four battle plans for taking out a heavy weapons deal that would be taking place in under two hours.

“Anything that doesn’t guarantee our deaths, Red Hood.” You remarked, slamming your gun on the table. “I need a break from this.” You stood up and headed for the door for a moment of fresh air—Gotham fresh air.

“We don’t get breaks, y/n, this is happening tonight. It’s now or never so get on the same page.” He argued as you slammed the door behind you, rolling your eyes at his arrogance. The sun was setting, you were losing time—and you felt you were better off on your own. But he just wouldn’t leave you alone, had to have a hand in this takedown. Maybe because you were always one step ahead of him, he had to be apart of this one.

Jason worked hard, but you seemed to work harder with the way you handled your jobs. You got information first, you were there first, you did it on your own. He never understood how he was coming in second but he didn’t feel like he was doing enough, so when he caught wind of your operation he had to have a hand in it to make up the difference—only you couldn’t stand the way he did things.

You took a deep breath and walked back inside, seeing Jason scribbling on the board his new plan. “Is this better for you?” He crossed his arms as your eyes darted across a board of people, places, paraphernalia and more.

“Hang on.” You took the marker from him and altered it hastily, just for show because you knew it’d irk him. “This I can do.”

“Thank God.” He grabbed your gun off the table by the muzzle and handed it to you. “Can we go now?”

—————

Things did not go as planned. You insisted it was of no fault of your own but that was up for debate, especially since you chose to dive in front of a bullet to prevent Red Hood from taking a hit. That wasn’t the story you were sticking with, though.

“I wasn’t the one who dropped my knife, Hood!” You argued as he drove the getaway car. He could barely hear your yelling over the overworked engine revving and the barrage of bullets coming your way. You rushed to tie off your wound—a gunshot to your leg—as he sped away. “Can you drive a little less insane so I can fix this?!”

“Working on preventing you from getting shot again, if you hadn’t noticed. And I dropped the knife because you hit me, thank you very much.” He took a hard left turn and another right, trying to lose the pursuit to get you back to his safehouse.

“Yeah, because you wouldn’t shut the hell up about Batman and I was trying to concentrate.” You retorted, wincing in pain at each turn as you braced yourself for the force. “I thought you were a professional who, at the very least, could hold onto his weapon what he gets tapped in the arm. I guess that’s why I’m always a step ahead, huh?” Jason made another rough turn and you groaned in pain. “Come on! We lost them, you can stop with the reckless driving.”

“If you say so,” Jason shrugged, finally starting to drive in the right direction and looking over to you, noticing a second bloodstain on your arm, “did you get shot again?” He asked in disbelief, oddly calm.

“Yep.” You stared ahead and ignored his gaze. “You can go a little faster. I’d like to get this taken care of.” He pressed the gas pedal and arrived back at base, helping you up the stairs due to your first injury. You cursed under your breath the whole time with no end in sight. “Your fault you can’t pay attention, you goddamn…goddamn…can you just, ugh, do something?”

“Yeah, I’m trying to get you to the gurney so I can fix the mistake you made.” He sassed back.

“You were going to take this one to the chest, so I’d be thanking me if I were you.” You argued back as you were laid on the gurney within your base.

“I wear kevlar, thank you very much.” Jason replied, rummaging through first aid.

“Not on your shoulders. Would have gone straight through and probably hit your heart.” You poked him as hard as you could on his shoulder with your good arm—you know, the one without the bullet hole. Jason scoffed and cut your pantleg off without asking. You groaned at the pressure and decided to quit complaining since he had the tweezers in hand. “No, the bullet went through in my leg. Not my arm, though.” He nodded and instead went for the needle to stitch your thigh.

“That hurt?” He asked.

“Yeah, it hurts. Are you kidding?” You snapped and he shook his head, finishing the first set of stitches and moving to the back of your leg. A more sensitive spot, you tried to hide the twitches and winces of pain from him. And finally, he got to your arm, where he’d had to reach in to get the bullet.

“Just squeeze my shoulder, it’ll only hurt a little.” He fixed his mask settings to seek the bullet and slowly went in with a long pair of tweezers, the pain was worse with the bullet coming out than going in. You grabbed his arm so hard you could have punctured it with your bare hands, regretting your decision to save his ass as you cursed about a dozen more times. “You know, taking that bullet was a terrible idea.”

“You’re alive, aren’t you?” You huffed, growing more agitated as the needle entered your skin again. “Why can’t you be more grateful?”

“Because you could have died.” He took his mask off and looked you in the eyes. “And I couldn’t have lived with that.”

“And you think I could have? If you died, I’d have felt the same way.” You explained to him, tears welling just barely enough to notice. “Maybe you’re just upset you’re not the knight in shining armor.” You sarcastically teased.

“Maybe.” He answered as he cleaned the excess blood from your skin. Your eyes widened.

“What?” You simply replied.

“Maybe I’m upset I couldn’t save you.” He said, grabbing the gauze and gently wrapping the affected areas.

“You’re patching me up, so I think we’re even.” He looked up at you and shook his head. “What are you getting at, Jason?”

“You know what I’m getting at.” He said and you gently reached for his face, hand holding his chin. “Are you that surprised?”

“That your jealous, whiny ass is really just hopelessly in love with me?” You raised an eyebrow in mockery. “I might have gotten the hint somewhere down the line.”

“Doubt it.” Jason retorted.

“Yeah, why don’t you finish fixing me up first?”

taglist: @captainshazamerica // @cipheress-to-k-pop // @the-did-i-ask // @azazel-nyx // @summersimmerus // @deanzboyfriend // @zoeyserpentluck // @mr-mxyzptlk-1940 //

[wisteria-lodge]

About the gender in hp thing: I know JKR wrote the books wanting the patriarchy to have minimal impact on the world but even through a couple of the metas you wrote you can see that that’s not the case. In your character crying post there’s a clear implication that showing that kind of emotion is a weakness but also that it is not masculine. Equating strength with masculinity is foundational for cultures with strong patriarchies, and this idea infests every other aspect of their lives. Idk because of that and many other reasons I have a very hard time of writing the wizarding world as anything other than a patriarchy

This is a watsonian analysis vs doylist analysis issue.

I 100% do think that JKR went out of her way to really, really downplay the importance of gender in her worldbuilding - and this contributes a lot to the specific feel of the world. You could genderflip, idk. Neville. Snape. Draco. Hermione. McGonagall. and almost no plot elements or character dynamics would change. (Maybe James would bully Severus slightly differently? Idk. He honestly might not.)

Compare HP to something like His Dark Materials, another British fantasy series released at the same time, marketed to the same demographic... in which gender politics are REALLY important. Lyra conforming or not conforming to specific gender norms hugely impacts the way a lot of other characters treat her. So much of Mrs. Coulter's character has to do with how she's navigated the back ways and side avenues into power, because the patriarchy that runs *that* world is extremely explicit and plot relevant, and there's a lot she just can't do.

Now is JKR *good* at writing a gender-blind world? Not really no. So she's stripped out the importance of gender in a fairly surface way, while leaving evidence of the foundations intact. Everyone's a het couple, women take the husband's last name, Molly and Petunia are at home while their husbands work and there's no inverse of that situation, Fleur's father walks her down the aisle at her wedding, it's important that Hermione be able to tame her hair when she wants to, but for Harry it doesn't matter...

There is ALSO the narrative voice poking through and putting its own spin on everything. This is where we start getting judgment (for example) directed both at girls who are too feminine, and at girls who aren't feminine enough. Or sexual assault not really "sticking" if it's directed at boys. We don't have a character talking, in-universe, about how it's wrong for a woman not to want children. We just have a book where the only women who don't have kids (or take care of kids) are villains. Same thing with masculinity = strength = no crying. That's something the narrative framing / bias of the author brings to the table, but it's kept out of the mechanics of the magical world. I guess you could say Harry and Draco equate crying/fainting with weakness (but not explicitly anti-masculinity)... but then Lupin goes out of his way to separate 'fainting' from 'weakness' anyway.

Interestingly, gender is much more baked into the muggle worldbuilding. (Part of why I think leaving that aspect out of the wizarding world was a deliberate choice.) Smeltings is an all-boys school, so is St Brutus.' Dudley teases Harry about his "boyfriend" Cedric, Vernon sizes up Arthur and Mad-Eye by how masculine they are. At the beginning of Book 4, Dudley's diet is this very gendered conflict between Vernon and Petunia, where Vernon doesn't want a "little nancy boy for a son" - and that is one of the only truly gendered insults in the whole series. "Crybaby" almost counts... but the Slytherins tease Hermione for crying too, so idk. They tend to go for pretty gender-neutral insults, like "poor" "unimportant parents" "looks like a chipmunk" ... etc.

Like... I'm trying to imagine a scene were Lucius lays into Draco for not being masculine enough, and I can't. I think that in a canon-compliant fic, a scene like that would feel odd. The conflict would need to be framed more like a "you disgrace the name of Malfoy with your weakness" or "never tell anyone outside the family what you're thinking" or "your believe yourself to be more intelligent than you truly are." Not "you need to man up."

[anonymous-dentist]

Or: Cellbit is on the run from a cult, and he somehow gets indebted to a god on the way. Go figure.

-

Once upon a time...

Cellbit stumbles into the tavern as wet as, well, a drowned cat.

It's warm inside- uncomfortably so. The fire is roaring in the fireplace, and there are enough people in the tavern for the place to feel like the inside of an oven. The torches on the walls cast the room orange, and shadows dance on the walls.

Still. Cellbit keeps his hood up as he makes his way to the bar. He keeps his head down even as he pulls a few copper pieces out from his coinpurse and slides them to the tavern keeper with a mumbled order of a warm glass of the cheapest wine in the building.

Thunder rolls above. Lightning strikes a tree just outside of town, he can hear the tree splitting, and he can hear the start of a fire that's quickly put out by the downpour.

Cellbit taps his foot nervously against the floor. His tail, hidden beneath his cloak, twitches slightly at every sudden noise. His ears hurt.

The man next to him at the bar wordlessly slides a crust of his bread towards him.

Cellbit shakes his head, biting back a rude wrinkle of the nose. (He isn't that spoiled, but... man, the bread looks like shit.)

The man rolls his eyes and says, "Come on, take it. You look like shit, man."

The tavern keeper puts Cellbit's wine down in front of him and moves on to the next guy down the line.

Cellbit drags the mug towards him and looks down into it; his own reflection looks back at him: tired. Visible bags under his eyes, blood still crusted slightly under his nose, a split in his lip.

He takes the bread. He doesn't bite into it, though. He sort of just taps it against the counter in beat with his anxiously-shaking leg.

"Crazy storm, though, right?" the man asks.

He picks his own mug up, lifts it to his lips, takes a long, long drink from it.

"The gods must be pissed at someone," he says into his cup.

The gods, hah.

"It's the rainy season," Cellbit mumbles. "This sort of just happens."

"Really?" the man hums.

Cellbit gives him a slight nod in response.

Conversation dies.

Cellbit's wine is just as bad as he expected it to be. As he drinks, he tries not to cough it all back up.

His shoulders tense as someone new enters the tavern- the bell above the door tinkles, and the door itself creaks like a coffin. (Cellbit's coffin, gods forbid.)

The door closes. The new person walks right past Cellbit and to a table in the tavern's far corner, out of sight and out of mind.

The man passes Cellbit another chunk of bread even though Cellbit still hasn't finished his first. Or even started it. Or even really looked at it.

"You paid for it," Cellbit huffs, taking both bread pieces and dropping them back onto the man's plate. "You eat it. I can pay for my own food, thanks."

The man holds up his hands defensively. "Okay, okay! It's fine! I'm just trying to help!"

Cellbit pulls his hood up to hide his eye roll. Right. He knows better than to trust someone 'trying to help'.

("Once upon a time," He said, "there was a prince, and there was a god.")

His wine is still shit. He drinks it, anyway, if only to try and keep the man next to him from talking to him.

No dice.

Leaning against the counter, the man swivels on his stool until he's facing Cellbit fully. He rests his head on his fist, and he looks.

Awkwardly, Cellbit stares down at the bar. If he pretends hard enough, he can see little faces in the wood. They're screaming, because of course they are.

His ears flatten against his skull as the tavern's door slams open.

"Oi!" the tavern keeper shouts. "Watch it! You get the floor wet, you're mopping it up!"

Several pairs of footsteps as a group of people enter the tavern- heels, that'll be her; boots, him; bells, them.

"Close the door," Foolish orders, sounding way more confident than he probably is.

The door closes.

Slowly, carefully, Cellbit moves one hand away from the bar. He slips it under his cloak, wrapping his fingers around the handle of his knife. (His knife, his fucking knife-)

The four of them start making their ways through the tavern. Tina and Jaiden are laughing about something, Foolish is arguing over their laughter, Leo is complaining about the smell of alcohol even though Cellbit knows she's had some before. They all have.

They stay away from the bar, thank the gods.

Still. Cellbit keeps his head down. He's switched his clothes and cloak out since escaping, and he doesn't think that any of them have actually seen his face, but...

"Weird vibes," the man next to him comments.

He chews on his bread thoughtfully, adds, "Not a fan."

"Tell me about it," Cellbit snorts. (He's sure to keep his voice down; they might not know his face, but they definitely know his voice.)

("The god was just and caring," He said, "but the prince was cruel and heartless. All he cared about was power, and what could hold more power than a god?")

Leo asks her dad to pick her up. Foolish playfully groans, but he does so, because he loves her.

"You know them?" the man asks.

Cellbit tensely shakes his head. "Nah."

"Mmm." (A moment of silence as the man chews on his bread.) "Wanna get out of here? My place is way better than this."

Cellbit chokes on his wine. He coughs so hard he lets go of his grip on his knife.

"Fuck!" he wheezes.

"Whoah, look at that guy!" Jaiden laughs. "Dude, is the wine here that bad?"

"I want juice," Leo says, not remotely answering her question.

"Great idea!" Foolish cheers. "Juice for everybody!"

And then, unfortunately, terribly, horribly, he approaches the bar- boots.

"Four cups of your finest juice, my good sir!" he declares.

Tina follows him- heels. "And some information, if that's okay."

Cellbit holds his breath. His tail stiffens. His leg stops bouncing.

The tavern keeper grunts, but he doesn't argue.

Mentally, Cellbit weighs his options. He can take Tina and Jaiden on in a fight, easy. He's beaten Foolish once or twice, but he won't be able to take him down if he has Tina supporting him. Fighting Leo is out of the question.

He can run, but he's already so tired. (He thought he had run far enough in one day, but apparently not. Apparently, He sent a bunch of fucking athletes after him.)

"We're looking for a guy," Tina explains. "Tall, cat ears, probably super ugly. Real bad vibes, like a serial killer on crack."

Okay, ouch.

The man snorts; Cellbit fights the urge to kick him.

"Because he is a serial killer," Foolish adds. "He's killed, like, a bunch of guys."

Something taps Cellbit's elbow.

"Here," the man whispers, voice so soft and so close that it wraps around Cellbit's spine like a snake, "you should probably eat something if you're gonna drink like this."

("The prince said to the god, 'My Lord, you must be very busy! Allow me to help you with your godly duties!'" He said. "The god, unsuspecting of the seemingly-king prince, allowed the prince to become his head priest. The prince would listen to the people's prayers, but he would not tell them to the god. Thus, the god's strength slowly began to wane, and the prince's began to grow.")

Cellbit silently shakes his head. How many times does he have to-

"His name is Cellbit," Jaiden says, walking up to the bar- bells. "And he is very dangerous."

"Your juices," the tavern keeper grunts.

"He likes wine," Leo says, because of course she does, the little snitch.

(She always used to catch Cellbit sneaking some of the sacramental wine between ceremonies, and she would always make him do something absolutely ridiculous for her in exchange for not telling Him.)

"Well, only one guy here's ordered wine tonight," the tavern keeper says. "Right here."

He taps the bartop right in front of Cellbit's head.

Dammit.

Cellbit yowls as he's roughly grabbed by the back of his cloak and yanked off of his stool. He's thrown to the floor and his hood is ripped off of his head and his arms are immediately being pinned by a perfectly-stoic-looking Jaiden, who... looks about the same as Cellbit thought she'd look, actually.

"Dude!" Foolish shouts, glaring at Tina. "I thought you said he'd be ugly!"

Cellbit sneers and hisses and kicks. The entire tavern is watching him get absolutely owned, and he knows they're all thinking the same thing: Wow, what a monster.

He Knows it.

Tina throws her arms up in the air in frustration. "I thought he would be!"

Jaiden rummages through Cellbit's cloak until she finds his knife. She pulls it out, gives him a disapproving look, and tosses it absently behind her, where it disappears from sight in the growing crowd.

"Come on, dude, did you even try?" she sighs.

Cellbit answers by trying to rip her fucking throat out with his teeth; he doesn't get very far, obviously, but he does manage to scare the crowd back a few paces.

Except for the man at the bar, who has a thin piece of bread dangling in his fingertips as he watches.

His eyes are red, Cellbit notices, finally getting a proper look at him for the first time. That's...

("The god asked the prince if the work was too hard, because he was a good god," He said. "The prince denied it and asked for more work. And so he got more, and he grew in strength as the god's strength weakened even more.")

"Wow, Cellbit, you look like shit," Foolish comments.

Leo drinks her juice judgmentally; still in her father's arms, she holds her mug with both hands and glares.

"Thanks, I feel like it," Cellbit dryly responds.

He wiggles desperately.

Tina draws her sword.

Jaiden's scythe is on her back, a familiar blue ribbon tied around it, and dull silver bells tied to that.

Foolish clicks his tongue in disapproval. "Welp, you shouldn't have killed all those people, huh?"

Those 'people' were monsters, not that any of them would ever be willing to admit it. They're in too deep, they all are. Even poor Leonarda, too young to know a life outside of what is Known.

The man from the bar hops off his stool and joins the crowd, standing right by Cellbit's head.

His boots- the bottoms and sides of them- are crusted with still-drying blood.

He winks down at Cellbit, bread still in hand.

Then, he looks at Jaiden and says, "Hold on, let me help."

He crouches and holds Cellbit's shoulders down with absolutely no strength whatsoever.

Jaiden nods appreciatively. "Thanks."

"No problem, I'm a nice guy!"

He grins, and Cellbit swears that his teeth are sharpened to a point for just a second, just a fraction of a second. He Knows it, he Saw it, he-

He sees a familiar dagger sitting on the man's belt that Jaiden hasn't noticed yet.

(That is his fucking knife-!)

("The people began to call the prince the God of Hospitality because he was so kind to them," He said. "But, in reality, he was the beginning of Chaos Incarnate. From him, all Chaos would be born, and ruin would sweep across the land.")

Cellbit closes his eyes briefly, and he Sees who the man above him truly is, and, for the first time in his entire life, he feels fear.

Still. He opens his eyes, and he whispers, "Help me."

The man's eyes sparkle, but he sighs and shakes his head and says, "I told you to eat earlier, man. But it's fine, here! Something so you don't starve on your way to prison."

He holds out the scrap of bread, dangling it just above Cellbit's lips.

"Careful," Tina jokes, "he'll take a finger off."

"Say, 'Aaaahhh'," the man teases, eyes halfway narrowed in amusement.

Cellbit, with no other choice, obeys.

It's as he swallows that the fire in the fireplace goes out. And it's as the man pats Cellbit's cheek in approval that every single torch and candle in the tavern is blown out in a sudden cold wind.

"Oooooh, shit," Foolish astutely says.

("Did the prince have a name?" he asked, more curious than he was supposed to be. "Does it matter?" He snapped. "The lesson is to be wary of strangers, no matter how kind they may be." "But I need to know who he is in case he finds me!" "He won't find you, Prophet." "But what if he does? I need to be ready!" He laughed, then, more fond than he had ever heard Him laugh before. "All right." He nodded. "Should Chaos ever try and find you, know that you can always identify him as the prince formerly known as-")

Thunder crashes, and Chaos reigns.

---

A/N: Let me know what you think in the tags or in my inbox! Please let me know if you want more, because there is more!