#I can't say wrong word or i get fucking torn apart by people with no empathy and too much internet presence

[imeriayapping]

I'm so happy that at least in motogp i can breathe without seeing russians because they are always lased in f1 history, they still try to push that fucking shwartzman there too and into indy, they are in wec. THEY ARE EVERYWHERE

And I can't even express my fury because I'm not gonna be called racist/nazi/xenophobic but when people do same thing to Israeli it's ok. I can't be angry at nation that killed my granddad my uncle and probably many more in my family tree. I can't be anything other than thankful for support even if it's never fucking enough because my timeline looks like necrolog.

All i see when I'm online is either other Ukrainians trying to crowdfund ammunition for our soldiers without much success because everyone and our economy is exhausted or news about how new forces join russians to kill us. It's their only goal.

And you can't just fucking cherry pick those russians you like to say that they aren't guilty. They need to embrace consequences of what their politicians are doing. You can't be innocent and russian at the same time, one of very few truly good russians died recently fighting on the side of Ukraine. Our outlook on life becoming so individualistic we don't realise that power is hold by masses, that if they wanted for war to stop those "simple russians" could just stop going to war. Their system is extremely corrupt, it's easy to escape being drafted. Only times they protest is when they get denied another app. There millions of them and somehow just dozens of those caught by police for protest. They just don't fucking care and you continue to defend them online

[angorwhosebabyisthis]

analyzing hermes, emet-selch, the ancients and ascians, how they're written, and the fandom's reaction to them be like hm. emet-selch's role in this fuckery is compounded by the fact that his backstory as a genocide survivor is incongruous with his ruling a huge genocidal colonialist world power in the present da [ANTISEMITISM BLAST]

[nozunhinged]

I finally managed to put my overall thoughts about Playboyy into words and hoooooo boy do I have a lot to say.

I watched the mdl ratings go down, the blatant hate towards the plot, the actors, the scenes, the sex. There was nothing that wasn't torn apart about this series and yet I wasn't phased for a second and I kept wondering why because usually get very passionate about defending the things I love.

And then I realized that this series is the cinematic embodiment of a very lonely path that I've been walking for decades and I am already very, very used to the shame around it.

Sex is not just my special interest, I also had the privilege to grow up with excellent sex education (thanks parents) and on top of that I never struggled with my (pan)sexual identity. Sex plays a significant role in my life. But I learned VERY quickly that I should keep this to myself if I don't want to be ostracized or bullied.

"You're autistic AND you like sex? You like porn? What the fuck is wrong with you??? That's impossible."

And all the comments I read about playboyy are exactly the same just in different fonts. Ew sex. Ew kink. Ew porn. Ew sex work. Sex can't have storytelling, plot, it's just for shock value. We all read it.

And sadly it's a very accurate representation of the role sex plays in our society. Which - ironically - playboyy exactly is about.

Playboyy is a visual collection of all the experiences of lives and people in which sex plays a significant role - even the lack thereof (looking at you zouey and all you lovely aces).

It's a collection of very important social commentary, with all the characters, sets, plots and visuals as a medium. Because this way, the points they make come across even stronger and draw out all the emotions they want us to feel - which is in the rarest cases, pure arousal. Because this is, in fact, storytelling. Even if many don't want to hear it.

Telling stories about sex is so stigmatized and shunned, it only has the tiniest place to exist freely. Just like sex itself. Every sex worker, sex educator, sex therapist, everyone who has a profession that deals with sex will tell you about it. The shame. The misunderstanding. Look at the state of sex work and porn in the world. It tells you everything you need to know.

And it's happening in the middle of the "modern" western society - Yes I'm talking about you, UK and I can't not plug this here:

*btw I am not a sex worker I'm just very passionate about letting people not just live their lives but giving them a CHOICE to do what they want or don't want to do

I existed in this tiny place for decades now and I got really comfortable in my tiny lil corner, but to see a show like this go "mainstream" talking about all the topics that tickle all the knowledge I collected over the years feels so amazing. And I can tell you, all you lil smartass purists, everyone involved in this show doesn't care an inch what you think, just like me. We're used to it, believe me.

I could go on for ages about how carefully all these topics of the show are treated but what I actually want to say is that I find it incredibly ironic that a show that depicts the struggles and stigmas about sex, exactly draws out the reactions and treatments it criticises.

If you don't want to join in on the fun, that's totally fine. I get that it's not for everyone (just like sex, he). But treating it as a piece of trash just because it's a thing you personally find icky is exactly the reason the issues Playboyy talks about exist in the first place. Hence you can thank your stuck-up ass yourself that debauched individuals like me get a gem like this to enjoy.

And the fact that it didn't just find a crew, but also the funding and the mainstream distribution proves that I'm not alone in this.

It's not my lonely little corner anymore and I'm absolutely thriving on that. Cry about it.

[isan0rt]

I’ve been listening to the Horizon soundtrack again and man, the two different versions of In the Flood kill me. Specifically, having the main version be Aloy’s anxieties about not living up to Elizabet’s example and expectations, but Lovisa’s version be Beta’s view of Aloy and feeling she isn’t living up to Aloy’s example and expectations, is so fucking compelling. It says so much about them as people, and it also is really the first time we get a direct viewpoint of Aloy from a different first person POV, and how much she is to Beta as Elizabet is to her.

So I’m gonna talk about their songs.

Aloy's version of the song is straightforward.

"Am I the one to hold // this crown of ash and salt? // Their kindness calls to me. I have to block it out." All through Zero Dawn, she was seeking belonging and identity, but she can't afford to seek kindness now. She is the heir to Elizabet's legacy, the legacy that is falling apart in her hands. She has to ignore it, she has to be more than human.

"My voice has grown so somber // these words don't seem like mine // but the iron won't subside // no matter what I try." Aloy feels she is losing herself - there is nothing but the mission. She feels like she is getting nowhere and it is shredding her psyche.

"Am I raindrops in the flood? [...]If I falter, if I fall // the wave inside my soul // carries all I know // Who can take my hand in the flood?" She can't tell if she's making any difference, but the world is on her shoulders. She can't see how anyone can help her. She is on her own - and if she fails, everyone on Earth dies. The pressure is crushing her, but she has to stand strong anyway. 

"A voice calls me forth // through darkness unknown // my heart with silence burns through solemnness and bone // the edge beyond the shore // this weight of wood and rot // I long to reach the other // to find the path we lost." I think it's significant that the only voice Aloy is hearing at this point in the game (the opening credits) is her own voice - the same voice as Elizabet's. She is letting herself be subsumed into the identity of Elizabet, and it is crushing her ability to see anything in the world but the death and darkness. 

The refrain repeats here, except that the lyrics change from "If I falter, if I fall" to "If I'm broken, if I'm torn-" Aloy is faltering, she can't carry this alone, she’s tearing herself apart, but she can't afford to break. She is desperate for someone to take her hand, but can't imagine who could possibly bear the burden that feels like hers alone.

All very straightforward - terrible, anxious, crushing, but straightforward. She is worried about her mission, and she has the weight of the world on her shoulders. She is barely thinking of herself as an individual anymore. This song is a desperate cry for help, from someone who doesn't believe help is coming for her. She feels like she is alone, and always has been.

But Beta. Beta has a very different, much more complicated theme to her version of the song.

"My hands are full of flowers // my ears are full of songs." Right off the bat, we get such a loaded, complicated line. For the first time in her life, Beta is seeing life. The base is as sterile as the Odyssey was, but Zo has filled it with plants and music, specifically for the reason that the sterility felt unnatural to her. Beta flees these things into the barren server room, but they are still there, all around where she’s hidden herself. At the same time, I think this line foreshadows Varl's death - the flowers and songs of a gravesinger, the loss of the first person to treat her like a human being and not a machine.

"My heart has had enough // I'd rather just be wrong. I listen when you talk // your words all make sense // but underneath it all // I hear where we are going with this." Where Aloy's version is just crying out into the silence, Beta's is addressing someone specific, someone capable of speaking to her. This feels so clearly about Aloy's frustrations with her - how many times did Aloy come try to cajole her into being brave, like Aloy? She's tired of it. She's used to being told she's stupid and wrong anyway. She'd rather Aloy just be mad, because;

"I am raindrops in the flood // I am emptiness." Beta does not feel significant. She is certain she's as useless as raindrops in a flood; there is no question as in Aloy's version. She is a tool. She has always been a tool. And yet...

"I am hope. I am lonely in a crowd // but when you hear me // you'll be near me// stay with me in the flood." Even though Beta still thinks of herself as helpless, Aloy inspires her to feel differently. She is so conflicted about it. She's emptiness, but she is hope, too - she is Elizabet's legacy, too. But more importantly, when Aloy is near her, hears her, then maybe...

"In dreams I never left // I  had courage like the beast // My eyes they never fled // my arms would always reach." These are some of the clearest lines to illustrate this is Beta speaking, and not Aloy. She dreams of having courage, but implies that the idea of being able to keep her eyes high and forward is just a dream. She knows she is timid and scared, as a person. Her feelings of weakness continue here.

"You've hardened with your words // maybe fear is armor too // my voice is not that strong // when hurricanes come running from you." Aloy scares her. Aloy is so different from her - Beta's voice is weak and trembling, Aloy's so fierce even hurricanes flee her - but something about that inspires Beta, too. Beta feels stronger by exposure to Aloy, even though Aloy kind of scares her. And she looks up to Aloy, despite her fear;

“The little child inside // is jealous of your strength // The way you hold your head // When everything's aflame-" This is another clue this is Beta speaking - Aloy does not speak of Elizabet in the present tense. She is always asking what Elizabet would have done. Beta is seeing what Aloy does do, right now - she holds her head up even in the most dire of circumstances. Beta cannot see Aloy's fear and desperation, that Aloy only expresses within her own head in her own version of this song.

"Your back is straight as you walk away // Straighter than an oak in a storm // Only I remain // Should I have bent, been reshaped in your image? // Is that what you want?" Beta can only see how Aloy is different from her - strong, fierce, aggressive, yelling at her to be stronger. To be more courageous. To be more like Aloy thinks she should be - Aloy pushing her own feelings of trying and failing to be like Elizabet onto Beta. But Beta can't see that Aloy is angry at herself; she can only see the ways she's inadequate, the ways Aloy gets frustrated and walks away from her. Of course she wonders if Aloy just wants Beta to be another her.

And yet, the refrain repeats here, three times as opposed to Aloy's two. No matter how much she feels Aloy doesn't want her the way she is...she is inspired anyway. She wants Aloy to hear her, stay by her. Because when Aloy is there...maybe Beta can stand up through the flood.

Beta is the one who can take Aloy’s hand. Aloy does not have to be alone - and as much as she is falling apart inside from the pressure, none of that is obvious to Beta. Beta can only see her as the same inspiring figure Aloy imagines Elizabet to be - but unlike Elizabet, Aloy is here, real and alive, someone who can actually have feelings about Beta, be proud of and love Beta. Aloy is to Beta what Aloy has always needed from Elizabet - and Beta helps Aloy realize that what matters is not what Elizabet would have thought of her, but what Rost did think of her. Beta looks at Aloy and sees the person Rost made her, and is inspired by her. She can live in the here and now, and they can stay with each other, and endure the flood together.

[skateordiebitch]

PHOTOSYNTHESIS || EUPHORIA AU

CHAPTER III: Babydoll

this is apart of a series, make sure to read the other chapters first :) I. PhotoWorld II. New Year's

summary: elliot and indigo may have a serious problem; they can't keep their hands off each other. he finally sings for her, and after a deep talk, indigo fears that whatever's happening, might not be as casual as she planned.

oh, and giovanni is going to be out of town.

what could possibly go wrong?

"I need you, too," Indigo's voice pitches at a low whisper, hearing her ex-boyfriend bang on the door in front of them. Her eyes keep glancing at the door; Seeing his feet planted right in front of it, made her practically shake in his arms just thinking about the ways this could end up.

"Elliot, I need to go out there."

The boy grabs her by the waist, pulling her into another kiss, allowing her to forget all the fears she had, just fifteen seconds ago.

He quietly sits her on top of the sink, making sure the room stays completely still and silent. 

"Gio, I think I saw her go outside!" Monet drunkenly shouts at him, "Ew! Someone's probably taking a shit, you fucking freak! Stop being a perv!" 

"Fuck off, Monet," The boy says, feeling his deflated ego from embarassment stand before him.

'If you want to start the new year right, maybe you should go after what you want.' 

"She did that on purpose," Indigo thinks.

Elliot feels Indigo smile on his lips at the girl's words from outside, and then finally hearing his footsteps trek away.

"Come here," Elliot chuckles in delight, finally getting to remove her top that he's been eyeing all night.

"I need you, Elliot," She says breathlessly as her hands find their way to his belt buckle.

"You want me to fuck you, babydoll?" He whispers ever-so-softly in her ear. 

Bodies pressed together, aching for more from one another. Giovanni is no longer a factor in Indigo's mind, only the man that's grasping at her like she's air-- 

And at that, Indigo doesn't even think twice before saying the words.

"Yes, please."

-

Indigo's skin was still buzzing with the electricity of Elliot's touch as they slipped out of the cramped bathroom. 

The pulsing beat of the music and the hum of conversations in the crowded house party hit them like a wave, a stark contrast to the intimacy they had shared in the small, dimly lit space. 

For a few stolen moments, the world outside had ceased to exist, and Indigo had allowed herself to feel something she hadn't in a long time—passion, desire, the warmth of someone's arms around her.

Now, as they returned to the party, the hazy glow of reality crept back in. 

The room felt suddenly too bright, the air too thick. 

She scanned the sea of unfamiliar faces, her heart racing for reasons that had nothing to do with Elliot now. 

Giovanni was somewhere in this crowd, waiting, watching. She knew he was probably going insane being alone in public. 

She was like his prized possession he wanted to display, but never let out of his sight.

Elliot brushed against her as they navigated through the crowd, his hand lightly grazing the small of her back. 

It sent a shiver up her spine, and she glanced at him, her heart torn between the warmth of his presence and the icy dread of what she knew was coming. 

Elliot's eyes met hers, filled with concern and the silent question he hadn't stopped asking since they started whatever this was between them: Are you okay?

She nodded, though she wasn't. Not really.

"Let's just... blend back in," she whispered, forcing a smile as she pulled away from him, trying to put some space between them. 

She'd already been playing with fire, sneaking around behind his back to see Elliot, and the flames were getting too close.

Elliot hesitated but nodded, understanding flashing in his eyes. 

He gave her a reassuring smile, one that said he'd follow her lead, no matter what.

The music thumped in the background, and people swayed and danced around them, oblivious to the tension tightening like a noose around Indigo's throat. 

She tried to relax, to slip back into the role Giovanni expected of her—the quiet, dutiful girlfriend. 

But, her mind was still in that bathroom with Elliot, her body still remembering the way his hands had traced over her skin, his hot breath against her neck, and the way his lips had captured hers like they were the only two people in the world.

Suddenly, she felt it—the cold, suffocating weight of Giovanni's presence. 

She didn't even have to see him to know he was there. It was like the air shifted, thickening with the darkness he carried with him everywhere he went.

"Indigo." His voice was low, barely audible over the music, but it sent a chill down her spine. 

She turned slowly, her heart hammering in her chest as she saw him standing at the edge of the room, his eyes locked on her.

He wasn't smiling, to say the least.

"I've been looking for you," Giovanni said, his gaze flicking over her shoulder for a brief second, and she knew he was checking to see if anyone had been near her. 

He always had to know where she was, who she was talking to, what she was doing. She could see the tension in his jaw, the barely contained anger simmering beneath his calm façade.

"I was just—" Indigo started, but he cut her off.

"We're leaving. I'm taking you home," Giovanni said, his tone leaving no room for argument. 

His hand clamped around her wrist, tight enough to hurt, tight enough to remind her who was in control. 

Indigo glanced at Elliot, her heart twisting as she saw the way his body tensed, his fists clenching at his sides.

But there was nothing either of them could do. 

Not here, not now.

Elliot gave her a small, almost imperceptible nod, his eyes filled with unspoken words. It's okay. Go.

But, she didn't have a choice. 

Indigo let Giovanni lead her out of the party, her mind spinning with the lingering warmth of Elliot's touch and the icy grip of fear tightening around her chest.

The car ride home was silent, tense. Giovanni's hand rested on the steering wheel, his knuckles white as he gripped it too hard. 

Indigo sat stiffly in the passenger seat, her eyes trained on the blurred lights of the city passing by. 

She could feel his anger simmering just beneath the surface, but he hadn't said anything yet. 

That was worse. The waiting, the anticipation. The explosion was coming, she just didn't know when.

"Who were you with?" he finally asked, his voice low and dangerous.

Indigo's heart skipped a beat. "What do you mean?" she replied, forcing her voice to stay steady.

Giovanni's grip tightened on the wheel, and his eyes darted toward her, sharp and accusing, "You were gone for a while. I couldn't find you."

Indigo swallowed hard, her mind racing. 

"I just needed some air," she said quickly, trying to keep her tone casual. "The party was crowded, and I felt too drunk."

Giovanni's eyes narrowed, but he didn't say anything else. 

He didn't believe her, she could tell. 

But for now, he let it go. 

The rest of the ride passed in silence, the tension thickening with every mile.

Back at her house, Indigo felt the suffocating weight of Giovanni's control pressing down on her. 

He watched her as she moved around the room. His gaze following her every step, as if he was waiting for her to slip up, to give him a reason to confront her. 

She went through the motions—getting ready for bed, brushing her teeth, slipping into her pajamas—but her mind was elsewhere. 

With Elliot.

She couldn't stop thinking about him. The way he had looked at her, the way he had touched her. 

It was like a drug she couldn't quit, the only thing that made her feel alive in the midst of the numbness that had become her life with Giovanni.

It was almost better than the actual drugs she used to do.

"Alright, I'll see you tomorrow," Giovanni says, watching the girl tuck herself into bed.

"Goodnight," She says with a smile, expecting it to at least be reciprocated. 

It wasn't.

"Night. Love you," He says sternly, placing a kiss on her lips before exiting her bedroom. 

She knew he knew something was up, but the last thing she was going to do was complain he wasn't more angry.

She watches him through her window.

How he gets in his car like he had just fufilled a duty of making sure she was in bed. That she had no other reason to leave the house tonight.

Finally, when Giovanni backed out of their driveway, she slipped her phone out of her bag, her heart racing as she opened her messages.

There was already a text from Elliot.

Elliot: Are you okay?

Indigo's fingers hovered over the keyboard. 

How could she possibly explain the storm of emotions raging inside her? 

The fear, the desire, the guilt, the longing.

She typed and deleted her response several times before finally settling on something simple.

Indigo: I'm fine. Just... tired and drunk.

A few seconds later, her phone buzzed with his reply.

Elliot: Do you want to talk?

Indigo: Yeah. But, call me.

The phone rang almost immediately.

"Indigo," Elliot's voice was a soft, comforting balm to the raw edges of her nerves.

"Hey," she says softly, sitting on the edge of her bed, "I didn't think you'd still be up."

"I couldn't sleep," he said. "I was too worried about you."

Her heart clenched at his words. 

It was so different from what she was used to—someone actually caring about how she felt, about what was going on in her head. 

Giovanni never asked how she was. He didn't care, not really. Not anymore, at least.

But Elliot... 

Elliot was different.

"I'm okay," she said, though the words felt hollow, "Gio's mad. Mad enough that he barely talked to me, but... he'll get over it."

There was a pause on the other end of the line, and she could almost hear the tension in Elliot's voice when he spoke again. 

"Indigo, you don't have to keep living like this."

Her throat tightened, and she closed her eyes, falling back onto her mattress, "It's not that simple, Elliot. You don't understand."

"Then explain it to me," he said gently, "I want to understand."

Indigo let out a shaky breath. She wanted to explain it to him. She wanted to tell him everything—the fear, the control, the way Giovanni had wrapped his hands around her life until there was nothing left of her but the pieces he allowed to remain. 

But how could she? 

How could she burden Elliot with that?

How could she drag him into the darkness that had become her world?

"I can't," she sighs. "Not right now, at least. I just want to hear your voice."

There was a long silence on the other end of the line, and for a moment, Indigo thought he might push her, that he might demand answers she wasn't ready to give.

But instead, Elliot surprised her again.

"Okay," he said softly. "Then, I'll wait for when you're ready."

Indigo blinked, her chest tightening with a mix of gratitude and something else—something deeper, something she wasn't ready to name yet. 

"Elliot..."

"I'm here," he said. 

Her fingers trembled as she gripped the phone tighter. 

She had never felt this way before—this connection, this pull toward someone that made her feel like she could breathe again, like she wasn't drowning anymore.

"I miss you," she admitted, her voice barely audible. It was the truth, even if it scared her to say it out loud.

"I miss you too," Elliot said, and she could hear the smile in his voice, "More than you know."

In the moments of silence, the boy fears that maybe he had taken it too far. That some things were actually better left unsaid--

"Actually, can I come over?" 

Her words shocked Elliot, "Yeah, of course you can... But, what about fuckface?"

Indigo laughs, "Gio? He put me to bed. He thinks I'm fucked up and sleeping. I'm just gonna leave my phone here, so he can't track me."

"He put you... to bed?" The boy asks, confused.

"He stayed while I showered and stuff. Tucked me in like his child. He does that pretty often, to make sure I don't try to go anywhere after he leaves."

Without asking into it too much, Elliot sighs, "How about I just pick you up? I don't want him to see the car gone."

-

Indigo surveys his messy room, a chaotic blend of clothes, open chip bags, and clutter, "Jesus Christ, Elliot! Clean your room."

"My room, my rules," he retorts. 

She notices multiple guitars, a keyboard, and a microphone scattered about— He actually is a musician.

After a moment of silence, Indigo breaks it, "So, you're really into music, huh?"

Elliot nods, still lounging on the bed. "And songwriting, producing, all that stuff."

"Please tell me you're not a SoundCloud rapper. If I fucked a SoundCloud rapper... oh my god, I would kill myself," Indigo exclaims, pacing in a panic.

He chuckles, watching her with amusement. "I am. What's wrong with SoundCloud rappers?"

Indigo's jaw drops, eyes wide. 

"Oh, fuck me! I fucked a SoundCloud rapper?!" she shouts. "Damn it, I knew it— the face tattoos should've been a giveaway!"

"Indigo, I'm fucking with you. I'm not, don't worry," he laughs.

She breathes a sigh of relief. 

She settles into a blue bean bag across from him. "Jesus Christ, you just gave me a heart attack. What kind of music do you make, then?"

Elliot ponders for a moment. 

"I make my own sounds. I don't think my music can be generalized into one category, I kinda just make whatever my brain wants me to."

Indigo raises an eyebrow, intrigued.

 "Deadass?"

"If I had to think of the kind of music I make the most though, probably alternative or like, indie," He chuckles, making a connection. 

"Indy— Indigo. That's funny. That's your new nickname."

A soft smile graces her lips.

No one has ever given her a nickname before, but she tries to brush it off.

This wasn't the start of a relationship. She should be leaving by now, but she doesn't want to seem rude to someone she'll have to work with.

"So funny," she says sarcastically, "Are you going to let me hear you sing or not?"

Elliot rubs his eyes, catching her gaze on the red Xs tattooed on his eyelids. She stares at him, longer than she should've, "Geez, Indy. You in love with me or something?"

She quickly looks away. 

"In your dreams... Did that hurt? A needle to your eyes? Are you insane? Are you mentally stable?"

"Do I look like someone who's mentally stable? Come here," he gestures for her to return to the bed, "Your vision obviously sucks since you're squinting at me."

"You think you're so smooth. I'm only getting up because you're right," Indigo says, moving closer. She sits on the edge of the bed next to him, "So fucking weird. Why do you have face and eye tattoos?"

"I don't know. Because I wanted them. Why do you have tattoos?"

"I wanted them, I guess. Fair enough," she chuckles, glancing at her own collection of ink, "C'mon, get off your ass and play me a song."

He yawns, sitting up. She scans his shirtless body, noticing and remembering the ribcage tattoos from last night's escapades. 

 "You want to request a song, or would you like to hear an Elliot original?"

"Original, duh," she replies, rolling her eyes, "Impress me."

"Pass me the electric guitar. The blue one," he instructs as she carefully lifts it. It's heavier than she expected, never having picked up an instrument before.

"I wrote this one a while back. It was one of my first songs about a breakup," he explains. 

Indigo braces herself for something cheesy.

Then he begins to play a riff that looks complicated, but flows effortlessly from his fingers.

"I can't move on, babydoll, waiting on calls, flipping through stations, I'm outclassed and it's outrageous..."

Indigo's jaw drops as he simutaniously plays and sings, "Damn," she exclaims, genuinely shocked.

"And I'll take it all, baby doll, whatever's been weighing you down..."

He grooves around a little, strumming a catchy riff before continuing, "Find me on Miami concrete, looking for somebody different 'cause my daddy was a pimp, my mama had issues, but I miss her anyway, oh, babydoll..."

Indigo can't help but smile, nodding her head to the beat— he's amazing, and it's the last thing she expected.

"Please don't call me for the wrong reasons, we both know exactly what I'm thinkin'..." He raises an eyebrow at her as she giggles, "Weeks pass and I never grow tired, 'cause I never said never and I barely ever lie, I'm on the road to an original place in outer space, I didn't make it up, but you can't find it on a phone or a globe, and I can take you with me if you really wanna go... Oh, babydoll, I can't move on..."

When he finishes the song, he watches her with a mix of awe and anticipation. "So, did I impress you?"

Indigo is utterly captivated by his talent. Moving closer, she gazes at him, her admiration palpable.

"I really shouldn't judge a book by its cover, huh? You're amazing, I'm literally speechless, Elly."

Elliot grins, "Music gets me all the girls."

Indigo feigns disgust, her eyes rolling, "Oh, you get girls? Who would've thought... Guess I really shouldn't judge..."

"Asshole," he scoffs playfully, "I'm not the type to be cocky, but when it comes to my music... But, I create all that shit myself. I'm genuinely proud of it."

"Every song? So you put everything together to make it sound good by yourself?" she asks.

"Yep, and I know I sound really fucking stupid, but I just love music," Elliot replies earnestly.

"It's refreshing to see someone so passionate. I feel like I don't see that enough these days," she admits, subtly boosting his already inflated ego.

"Do you wanna be famous, then? Is that your goal in life?" She asks, admiring all of the instruments on the floor of his messy room that was equivalent to a hoarders home.

"No, no. I don't want fame. I want exposure without attention."

Indigo smiles, "In order to get exposure you need attention, dipshit."

Elliot shakes his head, "And I don't want that."

"Then, what's the goal? Do you wanna play at festivals and have a tour and shit?"

"Yeah. That's all I want, play my music for people that enjoy it. I just don't ever want to be that guy who's hounded by people just trying to cross the street."

"That makes sense. If you were to ever go on tour, would you make me your groupie?" She asks as he quickly nods, watching Indigo smile widely, "Obviously."

She lays down on her back, staring at Elliot and watching him play a little lick on his guitar. 

"Oh, yeah... No offense, on the Soundcloud joke, by the way. Last night was good. Really, really good," The girl says, realizing he could've taken it the wrong way.

Elliot chuckles, leaning back on his headboard, "None taken. It was really good. We should do it again, sometime."

"No, I have a boyfriend," Indigo laughs, despite feeling her heart in her feet while saying that.

"So, he's boyfriend, now? Not a complicated ex?"

Indigo groans, laying down across his sheets, "It's..." She couldn't think of another word in that moment, of course, "Complicated."

The boy raises an eyebrow, "All I'm hearing is that I'm right."

"You aren't wrong... Better?"

He gave her a sultry look, an intoxicating stare without taking his eyes off her, while his finger picked the strings, "Much better."

"Your looking at me like that, again. We can't do this, again. Stop it," Indigo drags while locking eyes with him, "It's that same look that you gave me last night."

"I'm not giving you a look. That's just you," Elliot convinces, "You're giving me that look."

"Not giving you a look," She says as she looks away, "See? Not looking at you."

"You are and it's cute," He admits as she glances back up at him, "I'm just staring at your weird eye tattoos."

Elliot gets up and dives onto the bed, "You can see them closer, now," He says, propping his head up on his hand and staring at her face-to-face.

"You know, your hair is gonna break off if you keep bleaching it," Indigo says, running her hand through his curls, "It's cute, though. It matches you."

"You're being nice to me. It's weird, you hated me when we first met and I was trying to be sweet," Elliot guilt trips as Indigo punches his shoulder, "I was having a shitty morning when we met. I promise I'm a sweet person when you get to know me."

"I cannot see you being a sweet person, like not at all..."

Her forehead creases, "That is rude! You're an asshole."

"Kidding, kidding. Geez."

"I'll give it to you, though... You've kinda grown on me, I didn't really like you at first. But I do, now," Indigo admits, which made him feel a slick sense of confidence, "Mhm, really? Or did you just really enjoy last night?"

"Shut up, stop bringing up last night," She says, turning red and utterly embarrassed.

"Why not, hm? Tell me why I should stop," He says, licking his lips before looking at hers. Indigo is practically spreading her legs wide open at his words.

"Complicated ex problems, hm? Or you're in love with me?" He jokingly flirts.

"I don't know..." She giggles, trying to not act like she wanted to kiss him. 

She looks away once more, but the boy makes sure that he's in her line of vision, "Give me a reason why I shouldn't keep reminding myself how good it was... I wanna hear you say it."

Indigo finally gives in and looks back up at him, "It's a weird thing I have, where I don't like talking about it..."

"Let's stop talking, then," Elliot says, cupping her face with his hand and bringing her in for a kiss. 

She kisses back with passion, feelings that were better left unsaid, placing her hand behind his head to make sure he doesn't pull away.

They were both eventually laying down, making out with each other as if the world was going to end in any given moment.

One of his hands gripping her ass, and the other bringing her back into the kiss everytime she started to pull away.

"We shouldn't be doing this, again..." Indigo breathes, yet not making any effort to stop.

"Maybe we shouldn't," Elliot says, peppering kisses down her neck, "But, I don't really give a fuck," He adds as he sucks softly over the hickeys that he knows he didn't give her.

Indigo tilts her head back, so that he could get a better angle, jaw dropping slightly when Elliot's lips suck that sweet spot in her neck, "I don't, either."

And then his slender fingers slip beneath the waistband of her pants—

Well, she was done for.

-

After a long night, the sun finally rises. It peeks through the baby blue curtains and shines right down on Indigo, who is asleep like a baby. 

Her eyes flutter awake at the brightness, rubbing her eyes and coming to, she realizes that there's arms wrapped around her.

"Fuck me..." She says, realizing that she wasn't in her bed, not in Giovanni's bed, but in no one other than Elliot's, with his arms cradling around her.

"Morning to you, too," He says in a raspy morning voice.

Reality hits her all at once, like a hangover she can't shake off. 

It's the next day. She didn't go home. They didn't just sleep together once—it happened again. 

Panic flares up in her chest as she mentally scrambles for a way out.

"Oh, this is bad. This is really, really bad," Indigo stammers, figuring out a game plan on how she's going to get out of this situation.

He watches her with a lazy smirk, half-asleep and clearly enjoying the moment. 

"Mhm... wasn't bad at all, actually," he teases, referencing last night with zero shame, clearly amused by her distress.

Indigo shoots him a glare. Her voice is flat, no longer a question but a resigned statement. "We really fucked each other again."

Elliot's chuckle is low and smug. "Yeah, we fucked, again. Does this mean things are weird between us now? Are we finally past that 'one-time thing' phase?"

"I barely even know you, Elliot," Indigo mutters as she gets out of bed, grabbing his shirt from the floor and slipping it on without thinking. 

She looks at him with that same cold stare, in her underwear and one of his t-shirts, "This, us, is not a thing. I literally have a situationship, who will murder me in cold blood if he knew about this."

Elliot raises his brows in surprise, expecting at least something from her, "You know, Indy, you should really just be with me, instead," He jokes.

The girls scoffs at him, throwing a pillow at his face, "I can't!"

The entire time, he was fighting the urge to ask about the bruises that he saw, but didn't want to pry at her.

"Well, we can be friends," The boy determines after she shuts him down.

"I thought you preferred having no friends," Indigo says, quoting back to the day they met.

"One friend won't do me any harm. Especially a friend like you."

"Well, we aren't gonna be friends with benefits. Too dangerous. Too risky... Too stressful!" Indigo exclaims, still pacing around the dirty room, realizing the depth of her problem.

"Or too good you can't handle it?"

She plops down on the beanbag, "I think I'm remembering why I didn't like you at first."

"I'm just kidding."

"No, you aren't."

"No, I'm not," It's the no sense of shame he has while saying it that gets Indigo all flustered.

"Ugh!" Indigo groans again, placing her hands on her temples. If stress was a person, it would be Indigo in that moment.

Elliot crooks his head at the girl, "Come here."

She shakes her head, "We aren't doing this, again.... again."

"Just come here. You need a hug. No sex! Just cuddles," He says, truthfully. But, Indigo purses her lips in almost a defeated manner, "I can't do that."

"Why not? We can't even cuddle?" Elliot pleads, tapping his fingers rhythimically on his abs that Indigo was trying to to stare at.

"Elliot, if I get on that bed, I'm going to want to fuck you."

The boy does everything--everything--in his power to try and not ruin the moment by expressing the joy he felt from her words.

"And that's a bad thing."

He wasn't asking a question.

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Boyfriend!"

"Complicated ex!" He mocks, still signaling for her to come lay next to him, "Just lay next to me. We don't have to touch each other."

"That's even worse."

"Why?"

"You know why..." Indigo says softly, looking down to hide their eye contact that Elliot won't let go, "Mmm, no-- I don't think I do," He retorts.

"Because, I want to touch you!"

"You wanna touch me, hmm?"

She nods her head without saying any words, knowing Elliot's little game.

"Yeah?" He teases.

"Yeah..." She says in an almost whisper.

"Then, come here."

"Elliot, I'm standing on my business," She tries to convince herself.

"The more you stand, the more you fall. Just admit you wanna be up here, on this bed, in my arms... In my pants..." 

A beat of silence goes by.

Without saying anything, Indigo reluctantly gets up. Acting as if she didn't want to, she crawls onto his bed slowly.

"I think I might be obssessed with you, Indy," Elliot admits, although, she couldn't quite tell if he was joking or not.

"Mhm, don't get to used to this," She says, straddling herself on his lap, "I'm only doing this 'cause I'm nice."

"You are nice," He says, moments before pulling her into a kiss, "And I think we're gonna be really, really good friends, babydoll."

-

The dull, monotonous hum of PhotoWorld lulled Indigo into a daydreaming-haze. It was a strange start to her morning, to say the very least. After a ride home from Elliot, she had opened her phone to no messages from Giovanni.

No texts. No missed calls. No threats of him coming over because she wasn't answering. No notifications to send her into orbit.

Just complete silence.

It was a strange for her, being the first one to text him 'good morning.'

"I didn't get any texts from him," Indigo says to Elliot, but more to herself. Was this calm before the storm? Or was he finally coming to his senses?

"See? There was nothing to be afraid of," Elliot says, hopping on the counter.

Oh, how she wishes that was true.

"Right... It's just, strange. I'm not used to him not breathing down my neck."

Everything felt too normal.

She had spent an entire night at Elliot's, the whole morning, and is at work with him.

Yet, there was no retributions. No consequences, no yelling.

"So, Indy, I guess never really asked—why are you working in this dump?" Elliot asks as he switches out the backdrops, while Indigo dusts them off. "I know you said you're into art, but I mean, on a deeper level."

Indigo coughs as the dust stirs up.

"I've got a little sister. She's three. Doesn't live with Andre and me, though. After my mom died, my grandma didn't think we should have custody, or more specifically, I shouldn't."

She pauses, sighing as she sets the duster down. 

"Why not?"

They both sit in front of the airbrushed cityscape backdrop.

"Well... I used to be addicted to opiates. High school was the worst of it—that's probably why I never noticed you back then," She gives a small, self-deprecating laugh, "When I was twenty, I overdosed. They had to bring me back... All of that good stuff. After that, I went to rehab for a year."

Elliot reaches out, his hand covering hers.

"I'm sorry, Indy. You're sober now, though, right?"

"Yeah. Almost three years."

"That's incredible."

She nods, but her expression darkens. 

"But while I was in rehab, my mom... she decided to have another kid. Andre and I were furious. I mean, after everything we went through, how could she be that selfish? She was addicted to everything—crystal, heroin—you name it.  Andre and I practically raised ourselves. She was never there, always off doing meth in some motel or selling herself downtown. It's a miracle Janae was even born... and when she was, my grandma practically took her the second she took her first breath. Mom never even saw her."

Indigo's voice tightens as she continues. 

"When I got out, Andre and I had to beg just to visit Janae. Now she stays with us on the weekends, and I love her to death. I just don't want her growing up the way we did. I'm working here to provide for her, to give her the life I never had."

"Wow," Elliot says quietly. "Thanks for sharing that with me, Indy. I'm sorry you went through all of that."

"Life goes on, I guess." Indigo rests her head on his shoulder, the weight of it all heavy between them.

"Yeah... moms suck."

Indigo raises an eyebrow. 

"What about your mom?"

"She's in jail. Got arrested for dealing when I was eighteen. I haven't seen her since," Elliot replies, "Honestly, I never cared much for her—she never cared for me. And my Dad, he was the Devil. Both of them were always fucked up, but my dad... was a pathetic drunk... He used to beat on my mom all the time."

The girl's face dulls even more at his words; His own mother went through the same thing she's going through. His father is what Giovanni's turning into.

"He'd kick me out, what felt like everyday. I used to live in motels for awhile. On the street, when I was broke... I thought they took everything from me."

"Oh my god. I'm sorry to hear that, Elliot," is all she could get herself to say.

"But, as soon as I turned eighteen, I saved up enough to get out on my own. Now, I provide for myself. I don't have to live on the streets, anymore. I have a roof over my head. A job that could be a lot worse. I get to make music and smoke. I guess I got what I deserved in the end."

"I'm glad that it all worked out for you; I couldn't imagine how hard that must've been."

For a moment, they just sit there, a quiet understanding passing between them. In each other, they find something they've never had before—a connection, effortless, without words.

"You've got that look in your eye," Indigo whispers, gazing into Elliot's warm brown eyes.

"I know," he replies softly, meeting her gaze. "So do you."

But, instead of kissing her, he suggested something else.

"We should get out of here," he said out of nowhere, a glint in his eye, "Go somewhere no one will find us."

Indigo had smiled at him, shaking her head, but her heart had skipped a beat.

The prospect of sneaking away, just the two of them, was thrilling. It was everything she had wanted, but couldn't allow herself to have.

It would be a glimpse into what a normal relationship could feel like.

"And hypothetically, where would that be?" she had asked, turning the idea over in her mind, letting the possibility crack through her carefully built walls.

Elliot leaned in closer, so close that she could smell the faint scent of cologne clinging to his shirt.

"I wanna take you to my hometown, Naples."

Indigo hesitated. 

Naple was three hours away from them, and there's no doubt that Giovanni will be keeping a closer eye on her, after the whole party debacle.

His possessiveness tightened like a vice around her life. She could already imagine the fallout if he found out she'd been sneaking off with another man, especially Elliot.

But the temptation was undeniable.

The thought of slipping away from Giovanni's suffocating presence, even for a few hours, was too alluring to resist.

But, she realizes that everything about Elliot was tempting. Him as a whole intrigued her.

And then she remembered--

"Holy shit," she had murmured, casting a quick glance around the photo studio, as if Giovanni might somehow materialize between the faded portrait backdrops and the old cameras.

"What?" The boy asks, praying that she would at least consider the offer.

"I totally forgot... He's going to Arizona this weekend, for his football game. He won't even be here... but, he'll notice if I'm not home. I know him too well, he has his ways."

"What?! Are you kidding, that's fucking perfect! He won't even be in the state," Elliot said, his voice low and persuasive, "You deserve a break, Indigo. One weekend won't kill anyone. This can be your one breath of fresh air. It may just change your life."

She had let his words sink in, her mind racing with the possibility of freedom, however fleeting.

She had been living with Giovanni's shadow over her for so long, the idea of stepping into the light—even if it was just for one night, yet alone two days—was hard to pass up.

"Okay," She whispered, biting her lip, "Let's go, then."

That had been the beginning of their plan.

They kept their conversations brief throughout the rest of the week, exchanging quick glances and barely-there smiles as they worked.

Indigo could feel the excitement bubbling up inside her, a nervous anticipation that only grew as every day passed, and hour ticked by.

Three hours in the car with Elliot—just the two of them, no distractions. The idea was both exhilarating and terrifying.

She hadn't let herself think too deeply about what had been brewing between them over the past few weeks. 

She tried to tell herself that whatever it was, was just casual, a fling to distract her from Giovanni's suffocating grip.

But the truth was, being with Elliot felt different.

Like a breath of fresh air she hadn't realized she'd been starving for.

[fiona-fififi]

8-11, 16

Hellooo!!

8. common fandom opinion that everyone is wrong about

I've said it before, I'll say it again—Maddie and Eddie would NOT be besties. That man is her annoying kid brother's annoying best friend, and that's just how it is.

Also, I feel like people get Buck and Eddie's personalities confused in weird ways. Everyone always seems convinced Buck wears his heart on his sleeve, even though he openly admits to hiding parts of himself. Whereas Eddie really does seem to be the one to wear his heart on his sleeve. I mean, yeah, he does lock stuff away, but unlike Buck, I truly think HE doesn't even realize all he's locked away until it knocks him on his ass, and then he's relatively open about it, at least with Buck. I don't know. I just feel like Eddie's the more open of the two, but people confuse his desire to listen and his depression with him intentionally closing people out, and I don't feel like that's an accurate depiction of Eddie. At least not with the people he's closest to, if that makes sense?

9. worst part of canon

Answered here. I'd give another one, but I can't think of anything different at the moment.

10. worst part of fanon

The people in this fandom get too damn worked up over literally everything. Everything anyone ever says is treated like a personal slight by half the fandom. Nobody seems willing to let anyone have differing opinions about storylines or characters or ships. Every time someone tries to have fun with spec, someone's swooping in to warn them "not to get their hopes up" even though it's just fucking spec. People are having fun. And this past few months it's been ten times worse than usual to the point that I am very seriously considering not bothering to watch 911 anymore because the fandom has become so goddamn insufferable.

Which is more fandom not fanon, but I haven't been able to enjoy any fanon anything lately because people are on a warpath insisting anything not canon is worth attacking, and I am so goddamn tired.

Anyway. Sorry. That was a rant. Moving on.

11. number of fandom-related words you've filtered

Haven't filtered any, honestly (I don't think. Maybe one. But it's spn not 911). I'm just unfollowing and blocking at this point.

16. you can't understand why so many people like this thing (characterization, trope, headcanon, etc)

I shouldn't say it, and I am not judging those who do enjoy it, but I truly do not understand the intensity of the obsession many have developed with Tommy. And I don't mean the people who are just enjoying him and staying in their lane, but the people who have been immediately going on the attack at any vaguely critical word. Like he's just there. He hasn't had any significant development. They barely did anything with him in Buck's storyline, much less anywhere else. He's just. some guy. who's there. and kissed Buck a couple of times?? Like, I am just so very indifferent to him, and I don't understand how this random side character has somehow torn the entire fandom apart and sent everyone spiraling??

But honestly, I felt the same way about Lucy, too. So I guess I am just very much not the type to get attached to side characters.

🔥 choose violence ask game 🔥

[fictionkinfessions]

Anonymous asked:

Hey, uh… Sal here (Sally Face) again…

And uh.. I was actually interacting with source material for myself [not watching other people's playthroughs… edits… or even looking at fanart.] and it was weird as fuck… I knew what I knew, I had the memories I had… and I learned about my source's timeline [not what I remember or experienced… the events of the game itself? I don't know how to word this…] from what I could see from playthroughs… but actually GETTING my source and playing it…

. . .

…My god…

What happened to us…?

…Were we ever just safe and happy?

Like… Yeah, even for me, living in those apartments never felt 100% right… but it didn't feel THAT wrong either?

And oh god… Larry… Todd… I'm so sorry. I'm so, so sorry… Then Ash…

How did it get so bad…?

I feel like I can actually say I'm almost grateful for the shit I went through… cause if I went through all of THAT… god… and the thought that some of you MIGHT'VE gone through that HELL… I'm sorry… I'm so, so sorry…

I won't pretend that everything I remember was perfect. It wasn't… not even the slightest bit. But, for fucks sake, we were just teens! Yeah, we fucked around with paranormal shit… we had some run-ins with ghosts… we played detective where we maybe shouldn't have on occasion… found some nasty secrets about our town… But… I don't remember us dying like that… us being torn from each other… We still weren't "perfect". But, we weren't.. I dunno, tormented…?

We weren't stuck suffering like that, and I hate the thought that some of us [Sally Face kintypes/fictives/etc as a whole] were… And I'm just so sorry…

I guess I just really want to see everyone again, I want us to laugh and joke around… get into trouble… all of the shit we used to do. I want things to feel normal, I want things to go back to how they were. And most of all… I want us to be kids. I want us to actually get a shot at a "normal" life.

I know I can't change anything, anymore… but I wish every second of these long days that I could help… even for a moment.

the rules page https://fictionkinfessions.tumblr.com/rules

Special Text Formatting Please don’t use font colors, tumblr’s optional ‘quote’, ‘chat’, or ‘Lucille’ fonts, tumblr’s Header font style, or excessive bolding or italics, or generated text such as zalgo text or ‘fancy styled fonts’. Confessions in colored font, the above tumblr fonts, or excessive bolding or italics will be posted as unformatted text posts. Some colored text is alright, but full paragraphs will be posted as unformatted text posts. Confessions in generated text will not be posted. [EG Zalgo text] Confessions in typing quirks, such as homestuck typing quirks, are permitted. Please do not make the name(s) and source signatures text extra small, bolded, italicized, or colored. I cannot read small fonts very well.

[crmsnmth]

September Sky Chapter Four, Part 1

-455 I was standing above the sink, washing the day's dishes. For most people, this was just a normal part of the day. Those people didn't have a person shouting at them from the living room. Screaming how she hated me and wanted me gone. Right now. Just get out. But the minute that I'd actually go to leave, she come running holding me back. Telling me she was sorry and that she loved me, and that she'd try harder. I had learned how to deal with it, slipping into the fake world I was building in my head. A fake world that wasn't this sharp.

As I stood there, washing a knife and wondering what would happen I just drove it straight into my chest. She kept screaming. I actually found myself feeling guilty, like always. I know I had done something wrong. I always did. And she was always there to remind me how I fucked up. Lately, it seems that's all I did.

I stood there, washing the dishes, and wishing I was dead. She yelled at me that I didn't vacuum the floor right. Or there was dust on the TV stand. Or accusing me of cheating on her.

I started drying the dishes and put them in the places she wanted them in. In the end it didn't matter, because she would change her mind and claim to have told me. Sometimes, it seemed like she did those things just for a reason to fight with me. To hate me and break me. Then love bomb me for a week so I'll forget all about the time she cut my hand so bad I had to go get stitches in my palm. Or the broken mirror she had shattered over my head. Or the time she straight up punched me in the face. I wore a black eye of domestic abuse shame telling everyone I walked into a door.

It had become routine though. And I loved her. I loved her for all the good times, with all my heart. And to me, that made it worth it to stick through all the bad. I'd take her jabs and low blows, just to hear her say she loved me sometimes. Sorry had become my prayer. And if I wasn't apologizing, she was. The codependency was far from healthy or safe. We were horrible to each other. But those moments where we somehow worked? We were the king and queen of the entire planet.

I put the last plate away and sighed. I headed out of the kitchen and into the small living room. She didn't say anything now, just staring at the TV that was so quiet you could barely hear it. You couldn't actually make out what anyone was saying. A cigarette slowly burned between her fingers. I flopped own into and old and torn up recliner we had scavenged somewhere, probably from the side of a road.

"What? You can't sit by me now?" She asked, with venom in every word.

"Sorry," I moved from the chair, next to her, lighting my own cigarette. I watched the smoke for a second, envying its ability to escape into nothing.

"I don't what you next to me if you don't want to be by me," she growled.

"It's not that at all. I just sat down. I'm tired and just sat down in the closest spot."

"Fuck you, Chris. You're a shitty liar." I looked at her. I knew in a few hours I would be talking to someone else. Someone who did love me. Under that thick hide of anger and resentment was the person I had loved. It was all because of me.

I caught her picking up the crystal ashtray, just in time to duck as it smashed and added a new hole in the apartment wall. Our landlords were going to hate us.

* * * *

My eyes snapped open. It was still dark, and the red glow from my Christmas lights were the only light on in my room. They cast shadows that danced on the walls. From behind my shades, a streetlamp was just the right angle to cast a shadow of slats across my bedroom floor.

My heart was beating quickly. I could feel the blood violently rushing throughout my veins and arteries. As if I'd been running in my sleep. And maybe I was, I was covered in sweat, but was extremely cold. The hard bite of panic does that. It freezes you right to your core. Its cold knives being driven into your flesh. I pulled my blanket up and shivered slightly. Waiting for my breathing to catch up with itself. Waiting for my heart to slow down. To stop seeing movement in the shadows. To remember where I was. And know I didn't need to duck from an ashtray aimed at my skull.

[thesevenwondersofawitch]

Watching Star Trek: Picard s3 ep3, Seventeen Seconds

The show just started and then this popped onto my screen

I'm cackling because the Titan is being attacked 😂

"This is your fault!" Dude, while not completely wrong it's still a bad idea to say this to the admiral's son😂

"Jack don't!" Oh she's 100% his mom😂

"They're gonna need us." I love Beverly so much I'm so intrigued by her storyline this season 👀

Before? BEFORE WHAT?

Oh *grabs chest* the day Thad was born? It hurts so much knowing that he dies😭

Oh no, was baby Thad sick too?😭

"I thought I was losing him. My unborn son." WHY 😭

"His whole future flashed before my eyes." Shit, his future didn't last long😭

"I hope one day you get to have this feeling too." Well, he didn't specify when exactly 😂

I'm right there with Deanna, I too would be so pissed if my husband left to go get drinks when we have a newborn😂

"They should study him for science." 😂

It's so funny to me that Shaw sent two people to watch their back😂

"Electrical and biological signatures."

"Well, that's fun. Anyone else wanna throw some weird shit at me?" I don't like him, but boy does he have some great lines😂

SEVEN! I RECOGNIZE THAT HAND ANYWHERE! That music is so chill

She is so bored😂

OH MY GOD, IT'S LA FORGE CHECKING ON HER

"This sounds rehearsed." Probably is😂

Seven's eyes are watering 😭

"Shaw may call you insubordinate for helping yours, but my dad wouldn't."

"Thank you." ��🥺 "Go rest, Ensign."

"Yes Commander Seven." I love this girl🥺

Beverly is back in sickbay!😂 I love how fast Jack jumped in when the Doctor pushed Beverly back slightly, he's totally a Mama's boy and I love it

The smirk that Jack and Beverly shared is so great 😂

OH MY GOD IT'S RIKER AND PICARD

"Nothing she has to say can't be said in front of me."😂 My boy, what if she wants to take to your papa about the time they got it on? That's an image no one wants to picture their parents in😂

The way Beverly and Picard are standing on opposite sides of the room really shows how they have so much distance between them not just physically but mentally as well

The staring 😭

Oh my god, Picard didn't know he would never seen Beverly again? I have chills

They ended their romantic relationship for the fifth time😂

"Well,I got pregnant that night." OH MY GOD

Oh, Picard got kidnapped and that's why she didn't tell him😭

"It will be like that forever. It will be what it always was, attempts on your life."

"And you never thought if you'd have told me, it might have been different?"

"Jean-Luc, when the galaxy comes calling you, you are not put upon by it, you love it. Don't tell me you would've walked away."

I get why Beverly did what she did since Picard always went on about not wanting a family, but I agree with Picard in that she should've told him.

"I know now that I could've never been my father. But I could have learned that 20 years before." 😭

"When Jack was on his way, I was terrified. All I knew, was that if you're the son of Jean-Luc Picard, there's a target on your back. I lost my parents, then a husband, then my son Wesley, all to the same stars that own you."

"As a mother your whole being is about protecting your child. I- I thought I could protect mine. I didn't know, if I could protect yours." 😭😭😭😭

"I don't know much about you." Riker looks so sad😭

"Sometimes my mother- she'd start telling a story about all of you. And her eyes would light up. And then she'd get sad, and stop."😭

"I spent two decades in a spaceship watching you get cooked up before you were born. "😂 This is kinda scarring dude😂

"Have you got a family, Riker?"

"Feel free to call me Captain. And yes, I have a wife and a daughter. And I had a son." OOOF THIS SHIT HURTS😭

The way that Beverly and her son help people on worlds Starfleet has forgotten makes so so happy but so sad cause FUCK YOU STARFLEET

So many families are torn apart

Jack was jumped on by Fenris Rangers?! I feel like Seven might have words with these guys

"You are the only one I can trust."

Oh my god, the way that Beverly suspects that it doesn't have anything to do with Jack but has everything to do with Picard 👀👀👀

"Didn't I deserve a chance? Didn't he deserve a chance to get to know me?"

"When he was old enough I told him who you were and where to find you. I encouraged him to meet with you. He decided not to." 😭

That look Riker gave Jack 😭😂

"Immaterial? That's your son." Oh fuck, this has Riker in his feelings because he probably wishes so much that he'd get to talk to his own son again and here Picard is not even trying

"Moments with your kids, you never know what you might regret. God knows..." Ow😭😭

"It's irreparable." BULLSHIT

OOooo, the ships been hit, I hope that Shaw's dead😁 oh fuck he's still alive

"You got us into this, you're gonna get his out." 😂 YAY

Picard is Riker's Number One 😂 and I feel like that fits both this and how he has the tendency to prioritize Picard

Raffi!

The way that Worf is just exercising while Raffi is unconscious 😂

Raffi's boots are *chefs kiss*

"I am Worf, son Mogh, House of Martok, Son of Sergey, House of Rozhenko, bane to the Duras family, slayer of Gowron. I have made some chamomile tea, do you take suger?" The delivery of this is ✨ Perfection ✨

Raffi's in full blown fangirl mode😂

Worf's been working on himself 😂

The way he said it wasn't Raffi's time to join the dead😭

Her reaction to Worf being her handler is so great like YASSS GIRL BE ANGRY AT HIM

"Why do I do this? My life, my family, my sobriety. What is wrong with me."😭😭😭

"You have the heart of a warrior." NO SHIT SHERLOCK

"You have served me well." WTF DUDE

"You and I will track this individual together. And then we will find out who stole those weapons, learn the next phase of their plan and stop them." That's better

Raffi: 😏"Cool."

She's out here getting to hunt bad people with an idol of hers, but it totally proves never meet your heroes cause you'll be disappointed

I love how ruler is saying he's open to Picard's input, but you can totally tell he is annoyed with him still

The way that both Beverly and Jack are helping treat the patient's just makes me so happy

(about blood) "We've got plenty." Kinda concerning but ok

YEAH SHAW'S DYING!

Damn, Beverly's saving him

Interesting how he's repeating the same thing to Jack 🤔

IT'S THE BLOOD! THAT'S HOW SHE'S FINDING THEM? CHANGELING? MAYBE?

SEVEN? IS JACK GOING TO SEVEN?! Oh, nope, just trying to reach the bridge

Riker is really looking at Picard differently now🤔 like he's lost of respect for him

RAFFI'S BACK

"It is not warrior gear. It is casual."

"Seriously, where do you wear that, to a Tuesday beheading?" This is golden

Aww, she still doesn't feel well :(

"Beheadings are on Wednesday's." 😂

Aw Seven is still in lockdown

JACK? They know each other?!

Oh no they didn't

"You're insane." She says that with some respect in her voice 😂

She kicked the guy's foot😂

Someone sabotaged the ship!

"We gave a saboteur." No shit Sherlock

I personally don't trust the Vulcan who keeps advising them, she seems a bit sketchy

The way that Riker say's he's taking the ship home has me thinking that he's thinking about his family

IT'S THAT GUARD DUDE!

Wtf is going on?

Oh shit, Jack's mask is off and he's down, Beverly is gonna flip

"I'm having a real hard time balancing the whole work/life thing." Same Raffi, same

Oh my god, she just threatened to pull out the guy's fingernails 🫣

"You may keep your fingernails. We know that those deaths were not your fault."

Wait did Worf used to shove a sword up people's asses? Cause it seems like that's what Raffi was gonna say

"I am wiser now. I was once like her. Irrational, violent." Oh my god, he's lecturing Raffi

"I think I feel my chamomile tea coming back up."😂

Oh the guy's in withdrawal 👀

Oh Raffi is kinda scary rn🫣

WTF SEVEN? PLS DON'T MAKE HER A VILLAIN

The way that Seven knew to contact Picard that his son was injured 🥺

Riker's face when he says "Go."

"Oh he's fading." She sounds so upset 😭

The way that it's taking Seventeen seconds for the lift to get to sickbay 😭👀

Nooooo Jack! The way that Beverly is trying to get his heart started 😭

Noooooo

JACK'S DEAD😭 I HATE EVERYTHING

Oh wait

False alarm

He's alive

The lil relieved smiles that Beverly and Picard share😭🥺 so precious

Did they steal MORIARTY'S PROGRAM?

Holy shit

A CHANGELING?!

"Fearful of loss?" yeah this isn't gonna be good

"Sit down admiral, I'm the Captain of this ship."

IS RIKER A CHANGELING?!!!!!!

"What is happening?" Same Raffi

Holy shit!

Oh my god, Odo contacted Worf🥺

"You and I Raffaela, are now partners." HOLY SHIT

Oh my god, the ship is damaged 👀

"Will."

Riker's face😭 he's probably thinking about how Deanna probably told him not to go and that she was right

"You've just killed us all."

Riker looks like he's barely keeping it together 🥺

I'm sorry I ever doubted you my boy😭

Hey it was directed by Jonathan Frakes!

I'm off to go scream into my pillow now as I wait for Thursday to arrive.😁

[eroticcannibal]

I've had to put actual effort into making sure my child, who lives in the UK, learns to speak its own language and not what Americans speak. Its mad I had to put limits on American media consumption. I never had to do that with ANY other countries media. Not even the dominance of RP in English media did as much damage as American media did. As if its not hard enough trying to keep regional dialects alive. Theres kids growing up with American accents ffs! (And yes you could criticise the parents and screen time but this aint happening with other accents. I think that's important to recognise)

And I am forever having to remind people what country they live in whenever politics come up. Its not uncommon for people to *only* know American politics and not even realise it. They have just learned thats "the way things are". And the same with law! Trying to tell their own solicitors to do things the "proper" (american) way! Brits walking around talking about their constitutional rights! First amendment! Its fucking ridiculous! People thinking "oh I know my rights" and woops now you're arrested because you can't actually talk to the police like that and your silence can actually be used against you.

I've seen multiple British poc be torn apart online for discussing their lived experiences, and even other British poc back up that harassment because they've been taught to think about things the American way, so the American racists attacking British poc must be right! Trying to discuss any non-american race politics (for the benefit of the fucking opressed) is always inevitably derailed because how dare we not fit the whole worlds experiences into the tiny boxes americans can relate too. Which in turn just destroys people's ability to educate and give people the vocabulary they need, which then deprives people of the understanding and connection they need to process and deal with their oppression.

Thankfully things have changed in the past few years but there was a time it was almost impossible to find (free) educational resources for BSL because well, why learn that when you can learn ASL?

Even when trying to engage with other languages and cultures, its ruined by American culture. My kid abandoned its language studies for years because it just could not deal with the demand of having to not only learn a new language but also learn American to use apps like duolingo. How discouraging for a young child to be told over and over that they are wrong for using the correct, very common but not American word.

And it just permeates everything. I lost my native dialect to classism and fought so hard to get it back. And yet I have to keep diluting it online so I can just talk about things else everything I post will be derailed by americans cooing over the silly little brit using weird words instead of like. Enaging with what I say in a meaningful way. Or I'll get threatened with doxxing by some bratty teenagers because I used a BRITISH colloquialism that coincidentally occurred in an American dialect and they just can't get their heads round the fact america doesn't own everything.

And yeah the 911 thing is a fucking problem. I've encountered near zero little kids these days who will remember 999 first no matter how much the adults around them try to help them.

DO NOT LET SOCIAL MEDIA TURN YOU INTO AN AMERICAN

[dreamingofaizawa]

Rainbows After Rain

Cheating! Bakugo // Kirishima x Fem! Reader

There aren't any gendered terms used for the reader, but it becomes glaringly obvious reader at least has female anatomy.

Warnings: Angst. Lots and lots of angst. Mentions of depression. And then comfort, cause I'm weak.

Word Count: 1.7k

Author's Note: Okay, so this didn't go in the direction I had intended. But I like it anyway. I did end up making the reader female for...eventually obvious reasons. Which you will find out once you read :P. I'm going to actually not write the second ending I had in mind, since they ended up kind of blending together here.

This is a part 2 to this. You should probably read it, but context clues from this one should be enough for you to figure out the general plotline if you're too lazy.

Anywho, enjoy~

*

*

*

Your body feels heavy. So so heavy. How long have you been walking? Where are you right now?

"Hey! Y/n!" Huh? Who's calling you?

"Y/n? Hello?" A large, scarred hand waves in front of your face. It takes you a moment, some blinking back to reality, before you recognize the burly redhead in front of you. Turns out you took a lot longer to snap back to reality than you thought.

"Hey, what's wrong? Are you hurt?" His rough hands cup your face, turning your head to inspect you. When was the last time you were held this tenderly? Tears make their way down your face again and you nuzzle into his palms, bringing your own hands up to keep him there.

"What's wrong? I can't help you if you don't tell me what's wrong."

"He cheated on me." Kiri freezes, blinks down at you completely dumbfounded.

"He...wait. What?" Your chest tightens again, the heart-wrenching sobs bubbling up your throat.

"He's been cheating on me." Your whole body shakes as you say it out loud, the hurt settling in for the nth time tonight. Kirishima still seems to be in shock, mind reeling at the fact that Katsuki fucking Bakugo of all people was disloyal. He only snaps out of it when a heavy sob falls from your lips.

"Let's... let's get you inside." That's all he says before bending down and scooping you up in a princess carry. You don't have the strength to protest, or do anything other than sob into his chest, clinging to his shirt.

He's holding you so close, so tight. You miss being held like this. You miss being cradled in strong arms, miss resting your head against a broad, sturdy chest. You miss feeling loved.

You allow yourself to go limp, burrow into him and make a home in his arms, seek all the comfort he offers because you need it right now. You need anything and everything he can give you. You shut your eyes, cry, and pray this is all a nightmare.

____

Kiri gently lays you down on his bed, carefully placing your head in the fluffy pillows. When he tries to pull away, your hands cling to him. You wine, cry for him, mumble something that sounds like 'don't go'.

You look sickly.

Your skin is almost gray, no warmth, any healthy color gone. Dark half moons have settled beneath your eyes. They look like they've been there a long time.

He crawls into bed beside you, and you curl into his chest. Just like you would with Bakugo, he imagines. With the way you latch onto him, he wonders how long the blonde has been neglecting you. How long has it been, since he started leaving one side of your bed cold?

Gently, he tugs you over him so your head is on his chest and your arm is hooked around his waist. He should feel guilty, being so close to his best friend's girl. But he can't find it in himself.

He's loved you for as long as he can remember you. He can recall being heartbroken, torn apart, when Bakugo got to you first. He remembers the regret he felt for not confessing sooner, maybe then you'd be laying in his bed every night.

But you're here now, and he should hate the circumstances. He does, in a way. He despises Bakugo for putting you through this, wants to rip the man to shreds to make him feel even an ounce of what it looks like he'd done to you. He hates that you've been reduced to shambles, hates that he'd found you in a depressive daze so far from where you should be.

He can't help but feel some guilty happiness, feeling you breathing next to him. But for now, he'll comfort you like you need him to.

____

Your pounding headache is what wakes you up. That, and the matching pounding of a fist on a door. And a loud ringtone. And sunlight. You groan, go to cover your ears and bury into your comforter.

Except you're not in your bed.

When you finally pry your heavy, swollen eyelids open it's not an empty bed you're greeted with, but a slowly awakening Eijiro Kirishima. When his eyes open, they're as beautiful as Katsuki's, but they hold a warmth the blonde never possessed. His smile is like the sunshine that filters in through the window, but it suddenly fades when he registers all the commotion.

"I'll be back." You miss his warmth, once he's gone. You can hear the door opening, hear muffled voices. You can hear Katsuki, he's looking for you. It wasn't a nightmare. It's very much real.

You shuffle out of bed, out to the door where Kirishima nearly fills the whole frame. He's blocking Katsuki out, a hand on either side of the door.

"Please! I need to see them! I need to know they're okay!"

"What you need to do is leave."

"Eijiro, move, or I'll blast through you myself."

"We both know you can't do that, Katsuki." The blonde's responding growl is intense, angry. You shuffle up behind the redhead, place a hand on his back. He looks at you over his shoulder, and you nod over to Katsuki. With a sigh, he moves aside for you.

The blonde's eyes lock onto you, relief washing over him. You can see it, see the tension drop out of his shoulders, see his face relax. When he reaches for you, you step back, and he lets his arms fall uselessly to his sides.

"You didn't come back last night. I was worried."

"Well now you know what it's like, not knowing if your parter is coming home to you." Your response surprised the both of you. You hadn't meant for it to be so venomous.

"I... I'm sorry..."

"That doesn't fix it, Katsuki."

"I know. But-"

"No buts. You can't just expect me to be okay, expect me to come running back to you." He stays silent, head dropping in shame.

"I trusted you, Katsuki. Even after I found out all those months ago, after waiting up for you every night, hoping, praying you'll come back to me and love me like you used to, I trusted you." The tears are falling freely now, and you don't bother to wipe them away.

"I- baby I still love you."

"No, Katsuki, you don't. You stopped loving me the first night you slept in someone else's bed. I'm tired of lying to myself. I can't keep waiting for you to come back anymore. Don't you get it? It's over, Katsuki." His head snaps up, those red eyes brimming with tears. Somewhere in your sad, angry, rattled mind you realize this is the first time you've seen him cry.

"Please...Please I can make it better, I can make it right."

"Nothing can fix this, Katsuki. You can't just fix it and make everything go back to the way it was. You can't change what you've done. You did this, Katsuki. You. You're the one that ripped us apart."

For the first time, you watch the man before you shed tears. You let the silence stretch on, let your words sink into his chest and stick. You want him to realize what he's done wrong, recognize the consequence to his infidelity. He only cries, hands clenched into fists at his sides.

"I'll come pack my stuff later today." With a solemn nod, he walks away. You go back inside with Kirishima, watch the blonde through the window until he's out of sight.

Your heart lurches in your chest. It feels like someone just reached in and squeezed, crushed it to dust. Kirishima catches you when your legs give out beneath you, holds you to his chest and lets you sob and thrash and pound your fists against his chest. He lets you scream and cry, wail because you still love him.

He holds you until you pass out from exhaustion.

*

***Five years later***

*

You wake up to warm ruby eyes and a smile like sunshine. Nothing beats mornings like these, waking up next to Eijiro and feeling nothing but pure joy. He's propped up on his side, head in his hand as he gazes down at you like you're the only other person on earth. His other hand is rubbing your slightly swollen belly, as he always does in the mornings now, paying special attention to the product of your love.

"Good morning, my loves." You smile back at him, at his words. Ever since you started showing, he's referred to you as two. You, and your baby, his two loves.

If someone had told you five years ago that you'd be pregnant with Eijiro Kirishima's baby, you'd never believe them. You were too stuck in your depression, too heartbroken to even eat. You had no motivation for anything anymore, doubted everything you said to Bakugo, doubted your own resolve, doubted your self-worth.

If he cheated, there had to be a reason...right? Bakugo doesn't half-ass anything, everything he does has a purpose, a reason. So why? What's the reason for this?

The only answers you could come up with involved your own self-worth plummeting to bedrock. Everything that happened was because of you, somehow.

Eijiro took care of you back then. He let you stay with him, held you when you couldn't hold yourself, fed you when you didn't have the strength to eat. After going far too long without bathing, he caved and bathed you himself. It became normal, to have him wash you because you lacked the will to take care of yourself. You lost the willpower to survive.

You lost your will to live.

But he picked you up from your worst point, built you back up after you'd fallen apart. His sunshine gave you a rainbow after the storm you'd wallowed in.

And now, you're here, starting a family with him.

He leans down, presses his lips onto yours. It's sweet, soft, full of love and adoration. With Eijiro, you always feel loved. Always feel like the universe revolves around you. You swear the sun only shines when he smiles. He pulls away, still smiling that bright, sharp-toothed smile of his.

"I'm going to make breakfast, okay? I'll bring it to you when it's done." You shake your head.

"I wanna get up today. Don't feel like staying in bed."

"Alright. I'll come get you when it's done, then?" You hum, nod, and he leaves with a peck on your forehead. You lift your left hand, gaze lovingly at the pretty little diamond on your finger. You're happy, with him.

Everything is going to be okay.

********************

Tags:

@jazzylove

[tinabelcherseroticfriendfiction]

Never Too Much

Title: Never Too Much Fandom: MCU Pairing: Bucky X Reader Rating: R Warnings: Past traum, oral sex (female receiving), teasing, Bucky Barnes because that man is a warning by himself in this fic,   Words: 2,268 Summary: Bucky has been begging you for weeks to let him eat you out. You finally relent.

All mistakes are mine, but shout out to my beautiful BETA reader @welcome-to-the-sin-zone. This is purely self-indulgent. Please be kind!! <3 <3 I love you all!

Materlist | Bucky Barnes Masterlist | Series Masterlist

<- Previous

“Put me down!” You scream, the terror in your voice only outmatched by the anger. You hate being picked up. You don’t trust anyone to pick you up without dropping you. At over 250lbs (113kg or 18 stones), you had never been picked up by anyone, always told you were too heavy. So naturally you believe them, recognizing that lifting fat women wasn’t something people do, or could do. 

Bucky, though, didn’t appear to hear you as he continues to pick you up and carry you into the apartment. It only infuriates and terrifies you more.

“Are you fucking deaf!?” You cry. “I said put me down!! Now!”

As soon as your feet hit the floor you scramble way from your boyfriend and plop your ass down on the first seat you find, your legs shaking and adrenaline running through your body as you tried to determine if you are more terrified that he could have dropped you because you were far too heavy to lift, or angry that he blatantly ignored you when you told him not to pick you up and then ignored you again when you demanded he put you the fuck down.

“Hey -” Bucky starts, a frown etched deep in his brow as he tries to grab you, but you’re too quick, escaping his grasp, but falling promptly to the floor and landing on your ass. “What’s wrong?”

“I told you! I hate being picked up!” You snap. “The fuck, Barnes!? Are you deaf or are you just trying to hurt me!?”

“I’d never hurt you,” Bucky protests. “You said you were too heavy to pick up, and I told you that was bullshit, why are you -”

“I am too heavy to be picked up!” You climb up onto your feet but stay just out of Bucky’s reach to avoid being picked up again. “You could have dropped me! Or… torn a muscle picking me up and then we both would have fallen! Don’t pick me up! Why can’t you follow one stupid rule?!” 

Ok, so it was definitely anger taking over your fear. You aren’t surprised, you always defer to anger in situations where you feel vulnerable. Part of you feels ashamed for yelling at Bucky, knowing he really didn’t do anything so wrong that warranted this kind of reaction from you, but your fear fuels your anger and you can't stop. 

“What’s with the attitude?” Bucky snaps back at you. “You weigh practically nothing compared to what I can lift, you were perfectly safe!”

“Why do you feel the need to ignore my boundary and pick me up without my permission!?” Now that you are on your own two feet again, and the threat of falling is past, the adrenaline drop starts kicking in and you quickly lose your fight. “It doesn’t matter that you can bench press a fucking freight train, Bucky. I’m not comfortable being picked up. It - fucking terrifies me.”

Bucky’s face drops as you let out a frustrated sigh. “Does this have to do with your exes?” 

“Yes - well… no. Kinda…” You let out another frustrated noise and roll your eyes as you sit down on the couch. “I’m too fat to be picked up. That’s been made clear my whole life. If someone picks me up, they’re gonna break their back. Or they’re gonna hurt themselves some other way, and it ends with me falling and getting hurt, and whoever’s trying to pick me up getting hurt too,” your arms wrap around your stomach as you look anywhere other than at Bucky. “It’s safer that no one tries.”

Bucky takes a seat next to you, listening. “That’s bullshit.” He says bluntly, shaking his head. “Yeah, some people probably can’t pick you up, but they also probably can’t pick up a bag of dog food, either.”

You snort a little at that, glancing at your boyfriend. He always somehow made you laugh even when you just wanted to cry.

“Has anyone even tried to pick you up before? Carry you around? Or did they take one look at the number on the scale and tell you you’re too heavy?”

“I stopped getting picked up when I was, like, three years old.” You roll your eyes. “I’ve never been thin, even as a baby. I’ve just been.. Too much. Too heavy. Even in dance classes, when we were all paired up with partners to do lifts and shit, I was always partnerless because no one would be able to hold me.” You’re far too tired to hide the hurt in your voice.

Bucky reaches over and grabs your hand with his right hand, squeezing it comfortingly. “You were never too much. They weren’t enough. And that’s not on you, doll. That’s completely on them. You don’t weigh too much, you aren’t too fat, and you definitely are never too much. You are perfect just the way you are. And I really want to just pick you up and carry you around all the time now.”

“Bucky…” You whine, glancing at him. “What if -”

“No what-if’s, doll. I won’t pick you up if you really don’t want me to, but I swear, I will never drop you. Ever.” He suddenly sits up a little straighter, looking at you curiously. “Wait - is this why you won’t sit on my face?” 

Your face heats up so quickly and so hard you have to pull your hand away from his and bury your face in your hands. “Bucky!” You cry, completely embarrassed.

Bucky, the bastard, starts poking at you, a mischievous grin playing on his lips. “No, seriously!” He chuckles, “you think you’re too heavy to sit on my face!?”

“Oh my god - I’m not answering that!”

Bucky chuckles again, leaning into your personal space and wrapping an arm around your back, “I’ve been begging you for weeks, doll!”

“It’s gross!” You scream, embarrassed, squirming as he pokes your sides where you’re ticklish. “It’s so gross, I mean - pee comes out of that general vaccinity, and it’s always covered by panties, and sweaty because, like, there’s no air flow, so it’s just musky and dirty and … gross!”

“There is nothing gross about it, doll,” Bucky raises an eyebrow at you, still amused. “It’s natural, and it would make you feel so good… Has no one ever eaten you out?”

You shake your head vigorously, clearly embarrassed. “I didn’t let anyone. You don’t think it’s gross? I mean - it’s genitals… it’s -”

“Babe, that is your Catholic upbringing. There is absolutely nothing gross about your genitals,” he promises, serious. “And I would be honored to be the first person to get to taste that sweet pussy of yours.”

“Oh my God, shut up!” You can’t stop the embarrassed giggle that comes out.

“Pretty please?” Bucky begs, pouting at you.

You giggle again and shove his face away from you. “The physical appearance of the please makes no difference!” You giggle again, quoting one of your favorite movies.

“Oh, but I’ll make it so good for you, baby!” Bucky pushes, a large grin spreading across his face, “you’ll be screaming my name so loud the neighbors will call the cops,”

You laugh again, burying your face in your hands as you shake with laughter. “You’re rather confident there, old man.” you tease, peaking at him through your fingers.

Bucky’s wounded expression on his face only lasts a moment before he’s grinning again, “Old Man, huh?” He grabs you by the waist and pulls you into his lap, holding you close. “Old man? I’m a super soldier, doll. I’ve got stamina for days and years worth of experience. I’ll show you what this old man can do,” he grins, kissing you deeply.

Your laughter dies on your lips as Bucky kisses you, a pleased hum escaping in its place. Your arms wrap around his shoulders without much thought as you settled happily into his lap, your legs straddling his thighs. 

You tilt your head back, breaking the kiss only for Bucky to start kissing down your neck, his hands gripping your hips tight enough to keep you in place. “Come on, doll,” he purrs in your ear. “Let me eat you out, I wanna taste you, please.” 

“Buck…” Your face contorts, wanting to give in to him and let him have his way with you, but also fearing the repercussions. He wasn’t wrong. Your Catholic upbringing has tainted a lot of sexual activities for you, though most were easy to overcome or adapt to. Like masturbating. You hated your hands being sticky or wet, so you would do it in the shower, or use a towel wrapped around the end of your toy if you were lying in bed.

But oral?  All your anatomy lessons reminding you that the urethra and the vaginal opening are so close and yeah, technically urine isn’t dangerous to ingest, it doesn’t sound appealing in any way shape or form, even if you do clean yourself. And then there’s the fact that it’s so enclosed. It smells, it’s musty, it’s moist.

Bucky’s hand has traveled down your hip, your thigh, to your knee, and back up again, his thumb brushing against the junction of your thigh. “I’ll take it slow,” his husky voice tickles your ear, thumb moving closer to your core. “Tear you apart, piece by piece, and put you back together again, over and over, until you can’t remember your own name,” 

“Bucky…” you breathe, your hips pushing into his thumb as he brushes over your leggings clad clit. “Fuck…”

You close your eyes, dropping your head onto his shoulder as he pushes his hand into your leggings, teasing your entrance. Your hips rock forward into his hand, your breathing hitching as butterflies release in your stomach.

“You’re so wet already, baby,” he purrs, “Just give in, let me taste you. Please,”

“Fuck - o-ok…”

Before the words are completely out of your mouth, Bucky has you on your back on the couch, kneeling between your legs as he pulls your leggings down with your underwear. He wastes no time throwing them across the room before his hand is there again, rubbing your clit and pushing a finger into you, teasingly.

“You’re so beautiful, baby,” he breathes, leaning over you and kissing your neck. “You remember the safeword?”

You nod, grabbing his hair and pulling him closer to kiss him.

“Gotta hear it, baby,”

“Warcraft,” you mutter, “But please don’t stop,” you tug his hair again, pushing your hips up into his hand. “Bucky, please,” you beg, a small whimper leaving your lips as he pulls away. “What -”

Your question dies on your lips as Bucky adjusts you both, pushing you up further on the couch so your head is resting on the arm rest and he is kneeling between your legs. His hands travel up your thighs as he leans over you and gives your folds a soft kitten lick.

Despite watching Bucky’s movements, the first lick is a shock, sending your body into a convulsion you weren’t expecting. “Buck-”

“Shh,” he purrs, licking you again. “I’ve got ya, baby,” he grins. “You look so beautiful like this.”

“Shuddup,” You whine, looking away from him before he’s suddenly there and devouring you like a starved man’s first meal. “Oh my fuck!” You cried, your eyes widening comically as you stare down your body at his head bobbing between your legs.

He doesn’t lie to you - that was a stipulation of yours when you agreed to give him a chance. No lies, no secrets, no surprises. From either of you. You always tell him what’s on your mind and he does the same. Occasionally it takes some prodding, you both have so much trauma from your pasts that it can be hard to remember sometimes that you both are safe with each other. But there were never lies. 

So you shouldn’t have been surprised when he kept his promise to tear you down piece by piece and put you back together again.

Yet, here you are. Writhing on the couch, your hands clutching Bucky’s hair as you pull him closer, only to push him back when it starts to feel too much. He divides his time between teasing your clitorus with small, tiny little kitten licks and long, languid broad strokes of his full tongue, followed by plunging that delicious appendage as deep into your core as he can reach, the stubble on his face scratching your lips, and his nose nudging at your sensitive bud.

It isn’t long before your first orgasm rolls through you like a fucking tidal wave. 

“Fuck, baby, that’s it,” you hear Bucky’s gruff voice as you come down from the high of your release. “Jesus, look at you. So beautiful… There you are. Hey… you ok?”

You nod and run your fingers through Bucky’s hair as you open your eyes, seeing Bucky still kneeling between your legs. “Holy shit,” you mutter as you chuckle. “Ok… I see your point.” 

Bucky laughs and leans forward, kissing you softly and you can taste yourself on his lips. It’s salty and strange, but not horrible like you always thought it would be. 

“Next time… I want you to ride my face until I pass out.”

You groan and roll your eyes. “I’m not smothering you!” You cry, amused. “I think that constitutes assault, you dweeb!”

“I don’t care, I’d die a happy man.” he grins at you, pulling you up off the couch. He pulls your shirt up over your head and throws it to the floor. "Come on, let's go to bed." He winks at you.

~*~ Fin ~*~

Next ->

[hhjs]

love or lack thereof.

pairing  — felix x reader

genre / trope  — angst, fluff / exes with benefits.

word count — 7.7k 

warnings  — suggestive, heavy implications, swearing, some making out but no actual r rated stuff but i will say this is suitable for 18 and up audiences. 

note  — this is unedited, subject to change. spare me lol

There are two sides to every person. The side that you want people to see and the side that you keep to yourself.

You think you've come to discover all those aspects of Lee Felix. Given that he's sweet, unassuming and inexplicably kind to the naked eye but you know, the rising anger in you knows he's only ever been cruel to you.

"Move," you seethe, he moves to let you in but you unintentionally knock your shoulder against his. There's people on the subway, and you hate the way Felix's innocent gaze finds yours for a second and it makes you look like the bad guy.

You feel the disapproving glare of a grandma who has a crumpled catalogue about seasonal pie recipes on her lap, as if she can't believe how much of a cunt you were being to an absolute stranger.

A roll of eyes follows, fishing for your ear phones, if only they knew.

Seeing your ex boyfriend outside of your casual deal hits you with the force of a punch to the gut. But you hid it exceptionally well. Arrogantly jutting your chin upwards. Whilst he cowers beside you, having supposedly caught your sour mood.

To think you had spent an hour with him in a bedroom just formerly...is rather strange. You've been sleeping with him for the past few months now and where it had begun is slightly mysterious to you — was it Chan's birthday party or a clubbing gone wrong one night stand just after Felix had come back to town....? You aren't entirely sure.

Albeit the arrangement is ingrained in your head — what you have with him is a secret strictly kept from your friends who otherwise if even caught air of a mere conversation between you two would invite an influx of queries. This is simple, physical, you don't have time for a relationship, let alone one with him and to mend how utterly lonely you are with someone who hasn't already seen you naked, someone who you couldn't blindly trust, is too much work.

Even though Felix is indubitably affected by your unwavering indifference, something he wasn't used to when you were together because of how giving you were to sate his utterly needy tendencies. Now he feels himself clawing at your hardened exterior in search of just those affections to no actual avail —hurt crossing his eyes when you sneak out of bed without saying goodbye, when days pass and you don't call or text and most importantly, when you're in public and you can't be bothered to spare him as much as a glance. To you, it's nothing more and nothing less. You make it a necessity to keep reminding him.

See you liked to pretend you're a resilient person. That in your heart you really do forgive people and move on.

But he is an exception.

"Did you eat?" He perks up, his voice is small. Careful.

You keep your stoic expression, looking ahead. "No."

Then he blinks, like he usually does when he doesn't understand why you act the way you do. Impolite, communicating only in monosyllables.

Do you really hate him that much?

There's a hoodie pulled over his black hair, longer along the neck,headphones dangling from his neck and his backpack in his hand, he hopes when he holds onto the same railing as you are, that your fingers should brush just a little.

Despite the way you adamantly ignore him, Felix opens his mouth to utter a passing inquiry. Your jaw clenches. And you desperately begin to scan the city map plastered inside to navigate passengers to their destinations.

"Can we...do you want to get something to eat..." He swallows, "together?"

As if he's crazy for even making such a proposition, you look at him once but from the corner of your eye and he thinks that's a lot considering how often you look past him, through him, never at him. You shake your head, giving him a warning stare.

Across from you, his reflection is frowning at your negative response. Still staring at you with a marveling gleam in his eyes, how much you've changed over the past two years just as he has....still takes him by surprise. Suddenly and unexpectedly, his eyes flicker to yours and he finds you staring at his image against the glassed doors. And like a deer caught in headlights, your heart drops to the depths of your stomach.

The announcement above falls deaf to your ears as you exit in a blind rush of sheer panic. Ignoring the biting cold and unfamiliar station. Your stop is still quite far. Maybe you'd have to take the taxi... or walk.

But in the face of all those hassles you sense yourself feeling incredibly relieved...because frankly, you think, you could go to hell and back if gets you away from him.

—

"So you came to tell me you're just gonna give up? Is that it?"

Felix carefully glances at you through his lashes, silently pursing his lips as to convey the answer.

You stare at the speckles of light kissing up his freckled cheeks, his big beaming eyes, a slightly low bridge but rounded tip of his nose paired with a small upturned mouth.

You can't believe you won't see him again.

Whenever he'd catch a break, he'd take the 2 hour bus to town and come see you, meet you and those once in six months meetings alone, to you, compensated for his lengthy absence.

So it couldn't be the distance, you thought, if that were the case he'd have dumped you when he moved to the capital for university.

Felix just doesn't want to be with you anymore.

"You don't get it...." He closes his eyes, as if he doesn't want to see himself saying what he is about to say, you almost don't get the resistance in his tone. The subtle drop of his Adam's apple. "I don't want to hurt you." He starts, "Just think about this rationally... we're so young, what if I find someone else there?"

Someone...else?

Is it that easy to dispose of you? Aren't you enough?

How foolish of you to only ever think of him.

It felt like Felix was kicking you where knew would hurt the most.

Your sardonic laugh is cracked, garbled and it's so fucking embarrassing that you're crying in the middle of a fast food joint, your fries have gone cold. Had you known seeing him this time would be vastly different from usual, you wouldn't have ordered at all. Why didn't he tell you before? Why had he insisted on catching you unawares?

But then again...this isn't about you at all. This is about Lee Felix. This is about him reducing your worth to make room for himself.

Ultimately, you understand, what is worse than not being loved back is being loved by someone who doesn't love you as much as you do them.

"Well I won't stand in your way then,"

You clear your throat,

"Fuck..." you rub your temple, the sadist in you coughing up hysterical laughs. The ache inside your heart at this point has turned into physical pain, cracks fissuring out against its surface and gnawing at the flesh like its being torn apart at the seams.

You should've seen this coming.

Everyone told you and told you you could only drag on an opposites attract sort of relationship for so long before you start to realise how incompatible you are.

Felix has the audacity to reach over and place his fingertips on your knuckles,his eyes are sad, overflowing with pity. It makes you feel small, the way he looks at you, small, sad and abandoned.

What tips you over the edge, however, is how calm he seems, as if he had been precisely planning to dump you for days and months and years while you continue to make a fool out of yourself never have forseen his decision.

There are tears running down your cheeks, abusing your vision with a vicious sting. You bring your sleeve to collect the needless moisture in a sudden rise of temper that is oh so typical of you.

You snatch your hand away from his touch.

"Don't touch me." You say, the simple comment transfers pain to Felix's eyes, mouth parting in silent words. You want to scream at him, you want to shake him by the collar and tell say something, just say anything at all and I will forgive you. Goddamnit.

In a perfect world, you think, a world where things happened exactly the way they should, you wouldn't have said, instead,

"And don't you fucking dare come back here...ever again."

And...in that very perfect world, he would've listened.

—

Felix thinks he could, dare he say, love everything about you. Even though you most certainly deserve someone who hasn't hurt you the way he has.

Now it's funny actually, how the tables have turned...back then, he wasn't sure about you and now you aren't about him.

Felix doesn't really blame you though...because he knows he asked for it.

Your presence in his life has somehow become an absolute necessity to say the least. And ironically enough, while he had so confidently pushed you to let go of him, he realises he had been holding onto you all along.

Now what was he saying...again?

Right. Felix loves everything about you.

But what he loves most...is the way your hand instinctively finds his heart when you're kissing. It's just a simple movement of your fingers splaying against his chest, the warmth of them seeping through the fabric of his shirt. He doesn't even know why it means so much to him.

His hand drops from your ass to the back of your thighs to situate you closer to his chest. He moans into the kiss when your teeth comes to scrape against his bottom lip, your ministrations are typically rough and speedy but he is seemingly far too absorbed by the exhilarating feeling coursing throughout his entire form — it's not just blatant lust, he knows, but a much deeper understanding that he is inexplicably gladdened by the fact that he's touching you and you're touching him.

A shaky breath leaves Felix's parted lips as he cranes his neck to allow your lingering kisses to shift along his angular jaw.

Then without quite meaning to, his vision focuses on the table clock that reads it's well past midnight...you had run late tonight for reasons you neglected to disclose. Now that he really focuses, a strong musky fragrance akin to unfamiliar men's cologne wafts up his nostrils.

It couldn't be....

As Felix's suspicions run deeper, he restlessly begins to search up every aspect of his surroundings as best as he can in the limited provision of light. There is a large coat discarded on his bed, one he hasn't seen you wear before...then again it might not be yours at all...

You notice how he's stopped responding to you, so you pause, leaning back, still on his lap. "Is something the matter?"

Felix swallows, blinking up innocently at you. This deal is simple, isn't it? He knew what he was getting into the first time you got together and the second and the third and so on, so why had the possibility of you getting involved with someone else even bother him then?

Both of you knew why.

And what's worse is that Felix is sensitive by nature, never truly succeeding to hide his emotions, especially intense ones when faced with them. So he is hyper aware of the fact that what he is feeling in the moment is not jealousy, it's neither anger nor resentment but a deep seated insecurity that he will lose you.

Again.

"Were you...with someone?"

As expected, your hands resign from cupping his face, you avoid looking at him.

"What?"

Felix clears his throat, his accent thicker, voice heavy from disuse. He thinks about something being with you in the same way only he has...and it causes a dull ache inside his chest.

He rests his head back against the sofa and shrugs lazily. As if to prove a point, as if to say did he touch you here? his fingers ride up your t shirt, gently cupping your ribs, he tries not to look too satisfied when you quiver under the touch.

Still you lift yourself up and the sudden lack of contact almost makes him whine.

You stand before him. A hand at your hip.

"Why are you acting like this?" You say and he notes you sound more... curious than annoyed. Though what frustrates him is that you hadn't answered his question. "I thought I made myself clear...there are rules we agreed upon."

Oh he knows — no staying over, no personal questions, no jealousy.

Felix purses his lips. The downside of your forwardness, the same utterly admirable trait he finds really fucking hot, the one that conditions you to tell Minho off when he hogs all of Felix's brownies though the latter himself is too much of a pushover to say anything, the same one which had in times of recurring doubtfulness assured him of your strong feelings towards him, is that you say whatever comes to mind without sparing anyone's feelings.

"I'm just asking, [........]," he lies, trying to control the pain from projecting itself onto his voice. It hurts to see the way you jump to defend yourself around him, as though you're scared he'll hurt you again. The lack of faith you have him, after all this time, causes him hurt. "Why are you getting so upset...."

Felix is gentle. Communicating his feelings through his actions rather than words, cooly, slowly. And you are the exact opposite — there is an immediacy in your conveyance, a roughness. You mean what you say and you say what you mean so you think everyone does too. Which is why, he concludes, his present actions are insufficient to remove the seeds of resentment he'd left in the wake of his bitter utterances when you broke up.

But Felix was only 18 then, a kid completely unaware of his overwhelming need to have you in his life....what matters is, he's trying...he really is, to recover from his mistakes......shouldn't that least matter?

Thinking the slight inhibition in his tone is just a figment of your imagination and that he is simply and indifferently inquiring you, you feel a wave of embarrassment wash over you. Then you drop down on the bed, feeling for his remote.

You sniff through your nose and against your better judgement say, "I went out with an acquaintance,"

On weekends Chan usually wasn't home, you could come over. This is the routine, it has been for some time now...so, you've come to know Felix's room more intimately than your own, the walls are a deep blue, like the kind of blue out of a Holly Warburton painting. There's an old Coldplay poster on the back of his door and X-Men action figures from eons ago lined on the edges of his bookshelf.

You know where everything goes when though it's dark. But that doesn't mean anything.

It shouldn't.

"A acquaintance who gave you their coat midwinter...you must be close,"

You ignore his pointed comment, he ignores the way your eyes light up when you talk about this acquaintance.

"He's nice." You say, "He walked me to the station and everything."

A happy hum comes in response.

Because when was the last time you talked to him as freely as you are?

Felix plops down on his stomach beside you, elevating his form on his elbows. His fingers come to brush loose strands out of your eyes. Your gaze meets his for the second time that week. Slower. As if you hadn't minded looking him this time. He feels his heart being tugged at all possible angles.

Then, because he can't stop himself — he leans down and kisses you, tentative and indolent, like he has all the time in the world, like all he wants to do is kiss. Don't get him wrong...you've done downright unspeakable things with him, to him...but nothing mediates his adoration for you without the employment of speech like these little chaste...purposeless movements. His fingers coming to splay against your neck, thumbing along your throat when you gulp, the tip of your nose brushing against his cheekbone, eyes fluttering shut. They're...they're intimate. Utterly special. He knows you feel it too, from the way you look slightly surprised, searching his face, eyes skimming up any fragment of emotion conveyed in his features. But you don't encourage it, slowly shifting to turn your back as you lay quietly against his chest.

"Let me stay here tonight," you say, "I'm tired."

"Okay,"

Felix thinks you've broken not one, but two rules now. He hadn't expected you to answer. He hadn't expected you to get into bed with no intention of departing either.

Though he doesn't hold it against you, this is what he wants, for you to open up to him again...after all. These changes can't be bad changes, even if they are little, it's still progress...right?

—

You wet your fingers, dipping the moistened muscle against the clay mold. All around you is not as eerily quite as it is in your apartment, footsteps thrumming against hardwood floor, kiddish humming from the kitchen, the smell of sugar in the air, you've never worked outside of your home station and well...in class. You thought of yourself as a self sufficient individualist, you liked to believe that you didn't enjoy other people's company like you did your own, with the exception of your roommate. But that's only since you aren't close enough for her to disturb you.

Yet with Soomi moved out for good, the place felt...odd to stay by yourself.

So you found yourself spending more and more time at Felix's. It's nice to have a place to crash in every now and then, the sex is great and when you get hungry after, you don't have to think twice about scouring the fridge.

You don't know why you put off spending time aside from sleeping together at all, more time spent didn't necessarily add to your deal or subtract from it....because the action itself doesn't really mean anything. Everyone gets tired of being alone at some point. That's a universal fact.

Initially, you told yourself your presence was a consequence of Chan catching you two in the shower one night...so now that the cat's out of the bag, you two figured his place could become the only premise you didn't have to play pretend in. You both knew the elder would be more than willing to keep the younger's secret even if he didn't exactly approve of it.

With the increased frequency of your visits, bits and pieces of you remain dispersed all throughout the apartment, your body wash in his bathroom, your underwear in his laundry, the smell of you in his sheets, on his clothes. You had relaxed yourself through the periphery of his life and he had small glimpses of yours, habits and flaws, unknowingly...or knowingly....whatever. — Felix could only thank God that Chan had found out, in spite of the revelation itself putting you both in a compromising position.

With time, he starts to keep a few secrets from you too, here and there, knowing that if you knew you will stop doing it altogether. He can't have that...

You throw a leg around his hip when you're fast asleep, flinging an arm not a second later to cage him in your warm embrace. Felix likes the way your chest rises and falls against his back, how your breath tickles his skin and your mouth parts against his shoulder blade. Sometimes he stays awake and waits for you to do it, then when you do, he grins so hard his face hurts a little. Felix likes being the little spoon.

"Are you listening?"

His vision narrows down to the sight of you holding out your palms in the air, there's wet clay on them, as well on your cheek and legs, between them your pottery wheel is halted to desuetude, there's old newspapers layering the floorboard to prevent staining.

"Sorry...," he smiles sheepishly, "What did you say?"

It's your turn to shift your gaze to your feet. Felix thinks it's highly uncharacteristic, the way you seem almost...shy?

"Can you..." You eye the mug mounted on his study desk, he catches onto your request easily, "I'm thirsty—"

"Yeah yeah hold on... careful," Felix chirps, carefully guiding the rim to your lips to make sure it doesn't spill. He uses the tip of his thumb to wipe the corner of your mouth, you flinch first but then whilst the mild shock subsides, simply stare up at him as the pad of his thumb brushes against your skin. "There you go..." he trails, eyes bright with care.

You feel like a child being doted on, the mere emotion plunging you back to when you were 5 and had crushes on boys who shared skittles with you.

"Thanks."

Felix's ears perk up at the courtesy, you were never one to express yourself easily and when you did, every time, he felt inexplicably delighted.

The apples of your cheeks feel hot for some reason, by putting yourselves in in these small situations, you keep confusing him, you know, because you keep confusing yourself too.

You come out again that night but this time Bang Chan is shifting around in the kitchen. He hardly sleeps, you observe, but probably refusing to come out because he wanted to avoid bumping into you.

Chan doesn't seem to like you very much. Probably. You don't blame him. Before you came along, Felix and he spent more time together, now you had become a constant in his life without will.

You have to listen twice to realise he's speaking with you. Not an invisible being behind you.

"What?"

"I said..." His tone dropped dangerously low, he looks annoyed at something. "Listen I don't care what you're doing but don't hurt him." He's wearing a black t shirt and a pair of pajama shorts with cartoon wolves littered all across the baby blue fabric. He's trying to appear intimidating. It's not really working.

You stifle a laugh.

Frankly had you not known how deeply he cared for Felix, you'd not have cared about his advice. Or warning....?

"Fine," you respond, watching as the tension visibly left his body with one bating breath. "I hope this isn't about me stealing your yoghurt though."

"It's a little about stealing my yoghurt," he jokes, you think he's one of those people who'd apologise if you punched them in the face and spat in their drink. It's interesting...

Chan laughs a little. His eyes sparking with amusement for the first time of all the times he's looked at you. Did he trust your word that much?

—

"He talks about you a lot you know,"

You nearly spit out your drink. Seungmin isn't exactly the densest guy you know. Far from it exactly and he isn't discreet either. So your first instinct is to think he knows something.

You watch Felix from a distance, a solo cup in hand, he's laughing at something Hyunjin said, there's a crinkle along the bridge of his nose and his upper lip curls upwards to reveal his teeth. In reality, in everyone's eyes, your lives are separate. They walk on eggshells around you still...you assure yourself there's no way anyone could've guessed.

So you play dumb, glugging the whiskey into your cup. It spills around the edges, landing on the semi-lit neon counter.

"Who?"

Seungmin blinks at you. An unreadable expression on his face.

"Jisung." He says, "Who else?"

You feel yourself getting less excited, the breath you were unconsciously holding passing your entire form. Jisung is the newest addition to your life, a performing arts student who offered to portrait model for a project you'd been given in class. He's cute, forward, which you like a lot. And you notice whilst using him for inspiration, that he looks at you just as attentively as you had at him.

Only for different reasons.

Jisung asks for your number. You say yes. Half-heartedly. Though at the forefront of your mind you keep comparing everyone to the guy you go home to ever so often, you pick out their flaws and their perfections and you think to yourself he isn't like this, he is like this.

"Yeah?" You pose, sipping and wincing. "What did he say?"

"Just the usual stuff...." Seungmin tilts his head, he's not drinking tonight because he has an exam tomorrow. You think it's a little funny that he's carrying around water in a solo cup. "But I can tell he has the hots for you,"

You laugh this time. That's no surprise to you. "Well he's not so bad himself."

Seungmin narrows his eyes, shooting you a suspicious look.

"Of course you'd say that...." He taunts, "Heard you guys hung out...how was that by the way?"

"It was alright. Sort of just...happened. We bumped into each other and he offered to buy me dinner."

"And you...said yes?"

You give him a blank look, sarcasm dripping from your monotonous sentences, how else would you have spent time together?

"No, I didn't, Seungmin,"

The owner of the name rolls his eyes at your satirical comment, "No need to be mean, I'm just a little surprised is all."

"Surprised?"

You raise an eyebrow, Felix is still in your line of sight, it looks like he's stalling, waiting for your conversation to end so you could leave. He glances at you a few times and you quickly text him a 5 more minutes. "Why's that?"

"Cause every time you start to have feelings for someone, you take one step forward and ten steps back," he points out, "Think about it...you haven't been in like an....actual relationship after...well, you know," he postulates.

You glare at Seungmin, your pride somewhat injured.

"Hey! I've....dated."

"No....you slept around with people, that's not the same as dating." He retorts.

You snort.

Wouldn't you know.

Minho changes an upbeat pop song to something mellow. It's in a foreign language...maybe Spanish, you understand nothing but you don't have to to know it's a sad tune, the lyrics coming together in a melancholic harmony. Your eyes drift away, you feel your attention falter.

It was not unknown for you to have absolute control over your life, be it living your days by strict routine or building such a sturdy pretentious armour around yourself so that your organic self remained unscathed underneath. You had learnt the hard way that being yourself in front of other people would only bring you hurt...but if no one really knew you, no one could hurt you.

This game of hide and seek had become such a long standing practise in your life that it disconnected who you are from who you pretended to be. And every time the extent of your actual desires, monsters much beyond your control rose to the surface, they brought you shame, disgust.

You found those pretences withering away, the shell of protection around you falling apart whenever the thought of Felix crossed your mind. — his heavy noise of content against your neck, his fingers curling into your sheets, his open mouthed kiss against the arch of your hipbone, everything and anything...you had again, despite all your abrasions, become madly consumed by him.

And you must admit to yourself that you are becoming quite ridiculous because of it.

In this strange moment, you realise you almost need Felix to harp on about you even though you specifically asked him to keep all that you have a secret. You want his friends to come scurrying to you to start telling you that he cares so much he can't keep his mouth shut, to be so enamoured with you that his innermost feelings become painfully apparent, that it's utterly stupid of you to not see how he feels about you.

That's not how it goes though. Stuff like that only happens in movies.

Felix responds, texting, "Take all the time you need." Surprised, you steal a glimpse of him, but only when Seungmin isn't looking. You didn't know what you expected, something more crude, that would give away that he was jumping on the balls of his feet to only get into your pants, that would remind you that Felix is nothing but your fuck buddy. You find that you always look for reasons to resent him....because if you did, it meant that you didn't have to acknowledge how you're still in love with him.

You knew what you were in for. And hoping, wanting something more....is no more than wishful thinking.

Felix smiles at you, a genial smile, a simple curve along the corner of his lips which conveys patience, but also something deeper, like...understanding.

Again no matter how much you pushed him away he seemed to find his way back to you in some fashion, just to convey that your union is not all as black and white as you told yourself it was.

You down the entire drink in one swig. Seungmin makes a face at you, the kind he makes when you stick your fries in ice cream for shits and giggles,

"Well....we broke up a long time ago," You hiss at the awful taste stinging your throat, sounding slightly angry. You can't believe it matters still, but when you've been clutching onto something for too long, be it a painful emotion or a memory...you start to think it's the locus of your life, an integral part of you. It terrifies you to think who you'd become without it — vulnerable, malleable, sensitive.

You can't do that again.

The last few weeks, regardless of how good they were, didn't change a thing.

It couldn't. You wouldn't let it.

Seungmin is right, you think, you are taking ten steps back. Just not in the context he thought.

"There's no reason I shouldn't start now."

—

Turns out there is a reason.

Jisung asks you out the next day. He's so friendly that you feel overwhelmed. At all times of the day, he dresses like a frat boy out on his morning jog. A nike running shirt and loose fitted trousers, a baseball cap worn the other way around...it's a little silly.

You don't mind it, having the kind of apathy you would have towards someone you don't know very well.

Everything with him feels new, awkward. But also slightly exciting. He talks too much when he's nervous and you notice that he's almost always nervous because of your personality, as though he can't really put a finger on you and doesn't know what to do about it. Besides...he’s not a horrible kisser either, you muse, he just doesn’t know what you want.

Yet whenever you heard yourself thinking those compliments, you couldn't help but feel utterly guilty, a strangely deep seated feeling that you were doing something wrong.

Why did you feel this way....

Felix isn't your boyfriend anymore. You don't owe him any form of loyalty. You knew that. You're someone who sticks to their gut feelings and your gut had decided that something about seeing Jisung didn't feel right and not just because of Felix, but because you're not interested in a relationship just yet. And you're sure he could tell you aren't, he shouldn't quite expect a call back anytime soon.

"I had a nice time," you say, because it's true. He took you out for ice cream and bought you candy floss when you stared at it for too long.

When Jisung doesn't respond for a hot minute, you follow his trail of vision, which instead of focusing on you, has shifted to the semi-lit backdrop of your apartment. He's too obvious.

"Do...you want to come in?"

He flounders a little at your suggestion, embarrassed. "Would that be alright?....if I did...."

"That depends, are you gonna kill me?"

You say with a straight face. No matter much Jisung prodded at your exterior, you wouldn't budge, like you usually hadn't. Unravelling isn't really your thing so....he can't tell if you're kidding or not.

"No...?"

You snort, "Why do you sound so unsure?"

Jisung's face has grown impossibly red, he could feel his ears burning in indescribable shame. You just have this air about you that makes you incredibly hard to read and it's really attractive.

"I....I didn't..."

You keep your voice, steady, calm, "Relax," "I'm just screwing with you," you say, stepping aside for him to enter, "Make yourself at home."

—

You suppose you were born to study the arts.

You never could consider yourself a studious being. When you were in school, you remember falling behind in classes where the arduous process of revising was required, say mathematics or the sciences even.

Though that realisation hadn't come to you naturally.

Your parents wouldn't take kindly to you not taking up a "well paying" profession and you fell victim to the constant barrage of criticisms, of mockery which ultimately conditioned you to think some part of you, a large part just wasn't good enough.

And with Felix gone....

You were at your worst.

The two years you spent without him were the hardest, a set of years that obliged you to protect yourself from all the hurt around you, inside you. And while the security that you provided yourself is undoubtedly necessary for well...anyone, the process itself had its wicked way of rendering you unspeakably lonely.

You agreed to apply as an engineering major to gain your parents' approval and then transferred to the arts department by the time you'd successfully moved out. You haven't spoken to them ever since...and it hurt you more than you would deign to admit.

When your mum drops over for a surprise visit and chances upon your ex-boyfriend loitering about in your kitchen, fixing up midnight munchies, she takes a natural guess that you've gotten back together. (Which you think is far more agreeable than the truth. Knowing your mother, a staunch supporter of your relationship with him, she wouldn't take lightly to your arrangement.) And before you know it, you're all having dinner.

Felix makes an effort to dress up well, discarding his usual hoodies and joggers for a more formal look, you suspect it has something to do with the fact that you haven't attended any casual settings with him since you broke up.

Cutlery clinks against ceramic, coming down with a semi-loud thump as you try to swallow the enormous lump in your throat. Your mum makes a passing jab at you, saying how you had settled for a much "easier" major than say architecture or philosophy, she bitterly mentioned that everything worked out in the end. After all, your choice is a "much fitting" field of study for someone of your caliber, backhandedly insinuating that you're far too stupid to pursue anything else.

What inspires hilarity is how those insults still affected you. In front of Felix, you act like these few years have brought the fighter out in you and here you are trying to blink away the onslaught of tears prickling your vision. It feels like someone stripped you off your skin, off your flesh and picked out all your shortcomings for him to see.

You expect him to stay quiet, you expect him to think of you as the utterly shameful, selfish being you tell yourself you are,

But Felix's fingers find your shaky knuckles under the table where they rest on your knee, he implants the weight of them in a reassuring squeeze. "Well I think it's great," he says instead, smiling cheerfully at your mum. To which she, for the lack of support, sheepishly beams at him, "Not many people have the drive to do what they want to do. Or know what they want to do...take it from me, Missus [.....]" He laughs nonchalantly, the hairs on the back of your neck standing to attention upon hearing the lovely sound. You always liked his laugh, the sound rippling against your naked skin, thick baritone when he'd just woken up and a kiddish falsetto when he's extremely happy.

You wonder when you started paying so much attention.

Felix glances at you, lingering for a long minute."I bet it took a lot of guts."

You feel your chest constrict with a sudden surge of emotion from the mere look, you can't remember if the Felix you knew in the past, or anyone for that matter, had ever beamed at you with such pride.

You wonder what he'd think if he knew about Jisung, why you had neglected to tell him at all....you knew, because this little moment is precious to you and you had no reason to tarnish it. Not when you had time.

You tilt your head, using your free hand to hastily find the back of his neck, drawing closer to him with little strength. The more he realised what you're doing, the more excited he got. See he found your newly introduced public display of affection immensely attractive, though obviously embarassed by the sudden motion...

You can do crazy things sometimes. Really crazy things. In public and he has never opposed to such exhilarating things, be it in restrooms or even in a similar setting when you were dating, there was a certain thrill to it which drove him to the brink of insanity. Felix would silently implode your attention when you were alone and when you were out in the open, in whichever way he was to receive it, the way which insinuated you were his was the best of them all. All that was fine though...because it was just the two of you.

But now...in this indecent time, he wishes he could hear what you're thinking.

Had... had you gone completely mad?! Your mum is looking!

Your face is stoic, Felix's mouth parts, then you reach over and kiss him shamelessly.

Over the years, all the things that have caused you pain were things you had endured on your own, in his absence. This realisation alone invites a heavy conviction inside you.

Because you know it just as well as he does, no matter how sincere he is to you — you don't need Felix. Not really.

But you want him.

—

You do a stupid thing. A stupid endearing thing and Felix's heart beats like it would jump out of his mouth if he opened it.

It was meant to be a secret, what you two have, a matter of uncomplicated lust which didn't require the attention of anyone because it initially or so you put it, wasn't important enough.

Then you charge to him, he supposes it has a little to do with the person who was blatantly flirting him in the middle of Changbin's Halloween party, he doesn't care though.

You don't like embarrassing yourself, so he doesn't actually expect you to wear a black cat hairband matching his white ears and feline tail. Felix wants to think it means something, how despite the coos and the caas, the giant wave of surprise washing over your friends, you interlace your fingers within his and kiss his cheek.

He doesn't what that makes the two of you now... but he would give you all the time in the world to figure that out if it meant you could be his again.

—

You trace your fingers against outline of his face. Splatters of moist moonlight kissing the high rise of his cheeks, dusting along the long fringe of lashes which cast shadows along his skin, his freckles are like dots of bronze dispersed on his skin. He's beautiful like this.

"You're thinking too much," he says with his eyes closed, smiling a little. "Don't think so much."

You laugh. "Or what, huh?"

Felix cracks an eye open, his grin big, kiddish. "I was hoping you'd say that," he rubs the tip of his nose against your collarbone, he snuggles closer to your chest. What you hadn't expected was how he shifted his entire weight onto you, lying entirely atop you as though he were a starfish.

You couldn't stop laughing at the motion, it's so cheesy and gross...you love it.

—

Here's something you don't know — Jisung tells his friends everything, about making out with you and taking you out...everything. News travels fast. Faster than you anticipated. Despite wanting to divulge the matter, you were too taken by the recent shifts in your feelings to confess to your little interaction. You had told yourself again and again — a little later, just a little later and I’ll tell him.

It could be too late now.

The entire campus knew of your little rendezvous, shooting you curious looks... it's not until Minho comes up to verify the floating rumours do you all but sprint to Felix's place. You think of Chan's trusting eyes, of don't hurt him, of laughing in the intimacy of your bedroom and swiping your fingers down his spine like you were trying to commit the undulating design to memory.

You're not sure where it all began.

but you don't want it to end.

Felix doesn't answer your calls or your messages. When he buzzes you up, just from his gait, just from the resigned look in his eyes, you know he knows.

You watch as he listlessly leaves you to enter, walking before you without saying as much as a word.

You grab Felix’s elbow, making him stop in his tracks. He looks at your fingers wrapping around the muscle, shrugging you off easily. It’s just a small gesture but its impact is so large...that you feel your heart break into a million pieces.

You had never seen Felix being so quiet, even when he was down, he found a manner to radiate a form of optimistic energy which baffled you. You can’t believe how much you could have possibly hurt him. 

 “I can explain.” you gulp, “We went out on one date. It wasn’t because I liked him, I know it’s stupid and...I should’ve told you. I’m sorry, that's not an excuse, but you have to trust me when I say it didn’t...it doesn’t mean anything to me—”

“Did you sleep with him?”

With his back turned away, he still isn’t looking at you, speaking to you with a surprisingly stable tone.

“No.”

Felix takes a shuddering breath, one which expresses the small relief of knowing that Jisung hadn’t seen, touched you, felt you in the way that he only had, but there’s still so much more he wants to know. 

“Did he make you laugh?” 

It’s a silly question, he realises belatedly but he can’t help it. Some part of him, a large part, thinks he’d be more hurt if you made someone happy and they made you happy than if you fucked them.

You shake your head even though he can’t see you. “He didn’t.”

Your fingers again reach for his, wrapping your index into his thumb. You slowly move your hands to his middle, clutching him close to your chest, chin hooking into his shoulder, suddenly...you feel him melt into the embrace. Felix’s voice falters for the first time, small trembles against you. You’re willing to answer all his queries if it could put his mind at ease. You put your heart on hold for too long.

"Do you hate me...?" He sniffles.

You blink....did you?

Felix had changed, like you, he had matured, the past version of him you had so stubbornly ingrained in your endless inner monologue is not the one you grew all too familiar with...

Familiarity does breed contempt, does it not? Well you think the line between love and contempt is untraceable, melded together as a mysterious whole. After all those years, you were still angry, still filled to the brim with contempt for him and more importantly, yourself because you still love him much more than you'd like to admit. After all you've been through. After all this time. The need to love him ultimately encompassed every other emotion which posed itself as a hindrance.

So the opposite of love, the absence of love, you think, isn't hate, it's indifference. An emotion you never felt towards him.

Felix has wedged himself into every aspect of your life, tainted every portion of your routine in his presence and in his absence.

You don't think you'd have it another way.

"You broke my heart," you explain, "I was angry....but I could never hate you for the sake of hating you."

"I can't..." Felix whispers, twisting his body so he could look at you now, “I can’t promise you that it won’t be hard but I'm not—I’m not going anywhere...you know that right?”

You lean your forehead against his, his eyes shifting to your mouth, hands rising to wrap around your neck. You smile.

“I know.” you say, "Me neither."

“I love you...” He says in a small voice, putting his hand against your knuckles. “Do you love me?”

Your eyes soften, cupping his face like this — carefully collecting a lone tear with your thumb before it could touch his cheek. This time there is not a shred of hesitancy, no pause, no pondering before you say, 

“I never stopped.”

—

You enter in a blind rush of panic, thinking you might miss your ride, feet knocking together, elbows hitting elbows, bustling all around you and the sudden overwhelming stench of people hit you, it’s not an ideal setting, not at all actually. 

But you couldn’t bother to be displeased a second you spent with him. A teenager rolls her eyes at how disgustingly in love you are, elderly couples tutting under their breath...albeit, you don’t fail to notice their subtle smiles, small shake of their heads which attested to the fact that the joy you both radiate is.. absolutely infectious. You stumble with him behind, Felix is laughing breathlessly, bumping into your chest as the train suddenly starts moving, you place a finger on his cheek and he raises his chin to look at you.

“Did you eat?” he repeats, mocking himself, a dialogue from a time which seems an element of the distant past replaced by a love which compensated for every hitch in your relationship. You still argue, still disagree and still make up the same. Felix was right, it isn’t easy.

But when two people love each other as much as you do,

it’s worth trying. With every fibre of your being.

“No.”  You laugh, playing along, “But I could, with you.”

[peachypizzicato]

"horror movie but the protagonist smooches the monster and everything is okay :)"

Run as fast, as you can. Do not stop, do not pause for breath, it can appear at any second, and get you. It's so damn dark, the walls of the hotel are the only thing you can hold onto to comprehend where you're going. You just wanted to have fun at a party with your friends, why did the power have to shut off, why did you volunteer to check what was going on, and look for help, why did you stop when you heard its roaring, why did you have to watch that... Thing... Stumble out of one of the apartments? You barely saw anything but bloodied limbs and fangs, as well as two dots darting around, possibly in search of prey.

Don't even think of turning back now. You've seen what happened to the guy that slammed the door on the opposite end of the hallway open, you've seen him shooting at it. You've seen the creature pounce him, you've seen it raise a clawed hand, before your legs instinctively started moving on their own, dragging you away from the scene. Despite being unable to look away, you didn't really see what actually happened. There was another shot, and the creature let out a deafening roar. Then the man below it screamed, and fell dead silent. That's when you stopped walking, and began to run up the stairs to the floor where you think everyone else was.

When you came to look for help, did you go up or down?

Within seconds, you heard loud stomping in the distance, making the steps below you rattle. That thing was big. You had to hold onto the railing, trying not to collapse, as its weight and the darkness all worked against you, making you miss some steps, trip, you almost hit your head against the railing, trying to get up. You heard it approach, and then you remembered you had a flashlight. Pulling it out of your pocket, you shone a ray of light into the thing's eyes, causing it to let out a strange yelp. There it was, six feet away, jaw hanging just lower than humanly possible, dark red coating its claws and mouth, bite and claw marks on the areas of skin seen rarely between its torn clothes, like rather than ripping people open, it was hurting itself for some reason, something streaming down it's face and upper lip. A part of you couldn't help but wonder for a hot second. Was this creature a human once too?

It covered its face, trying to back away from the unpleasant sudden light source, and let out another screech, tumbling down the stairs. Go. Don't listen to the gurgling noises, don't try to decipher words our of its growls, don't be a fool. You need to warn others, make sure everyone locks their doors, and barricades away, call for help, go, go, go! Most doors on your way were locked anyway, you chose not to bang on them, in case some unfortunate Soul would open it too late, and the creature would be right in the doorway. At least get back to the apartment with the gang, they have some sort of way to-

Wrong floor. You should have ran down. This is the rooftop. The warm wind of an early Autumn washes over over you, you didn't even consider that slamming this door open would have led you here. Shit. You quickly close it, and look around for a way out. You can't jump off, there's at least twelve floors in this building. The nearest roof you could jump over to was so much lower your legs would snap like twigs. Probably would make it easier for that thing to catch you. You hear it battering the door. There has to be a way out. Maybe lead it over to the edge, maybe shine a light in its face again? You frantically search your pockets. No. No, you didn't drop it, you couldn't have- No. Nononononono, dear God, please no.

You shut your eyes, hearing the door fly open and slam on the ground. This is it. It approaches... Carefully. It must be playing with its food. It must want to prolong your suffering, like you prolonged the chase. You pray that this thing makes it quick. And then you hear it whimper. Its stomping turns into steps. Quiet and soft, as if it's trying not to scare you away. Like you've got anywhere to run. You feel heavy breathing on your face, a distinct smell of human blood from its teeth. Without any other option, you turn your head to face down, so that even if it forces your eyes open, you won't have to watch its face.

- Please make it quick, - Your voice sounds much more wet than you expected. Of course you'd be crying. You're gonna die. It lets out a much quieter growl. Sounds almost like an apology. It takes a step back. Is it preparing to pounce on you too? You peel one of your eyes open, and notice a hole in its hand, as if a bullet went through it, while it tried shielding itself. It stands still. Gathering your courage, you look up, and see its face again. There is something that was once distinctly human about it in the Moon's light. Its eyes are not hungry, or enraged, no, it... They... They look as horrified as you are. He seems lost.

* * *

It hurts. What's going on? Is this the punishment? You feel like something grabbed at every muscle in your body, and tried stretching it far beyond its limits, it hurts so bad. Something grows inside you, you feel like someone rowed your mouth with knives, they poke your tongue, you grab at your own head, trying to subdue the ache within. There is something moving in your flesh, like a hunch of snakes slithered in there, you see your own skin bubble up and want to tear out whatever is in there. You claw at your own arms, throat, chest and legs, ripping away pieces of yourself, hurting yourself, hoping that whatever is happening to you stops. You scream so much your throat feels like someone shoved a blender in your mouth, your own blood, tears and snot born from crying from pain mix into a taste you never wanted to know. You can barely hear what you sound like.

You stumble out, hoping to find someone in the building who could call for an ambulance, even during this blackout. A door opened. Help? Help, finally! A gunshot rings in your ears, as a bullet cuts through your shoulder. The man that shot you aims for you again. Without thinking, you jump farther than you knew you could, and try to hold him down, you swing to knock the gun out of his hand, but barely cover up your face with it as another bullet meets your palm. This is getting annoying. When you finally look into the guy's eyes, he stares at you for a second, and yells so loudly your sight falls dark. And then he's out. Do you really look that bad...? You hear footsteps. Someone else is here. They need to listen, they have to help you too, they must, please, you are in so much pain, you don't know what's happening, please, wait!

* * *

He must have seen his reflection in your glasses. Did he not know what he looked like? Was this form new and unfamiliar to him? Was he a bloodthirsty monster or an unfortunate person? Are you sure you want to help him? You reach out, and he carefully, terrified of hurting another stranger, takes your hand, yours almost slipping out of his, now soaked in his blood too. You try not to think about it.

- Can you speak?, - He lets out a groan, which doesn't sound too close to English, - ... That's alright. We'll figure something out, - He grimaces. Or, maybe, that's just how he smiles.

Waga baba bobo.

- Evil Anon.

… the jailor has decided to execute you

god this is so fucking GOOD i know i say it every time but this is HIGH QUALITY CONTENT got DAMB!!!

also… my take on (somewhat) communicating with The Beast :)

[doc-pickles]

all roads they lead me here

This is the last time you tell me I've got it wrong

This is the last time I say it's been you all along

This is the last time I let you in my door

This is the last time, I won't hurt you anymore

“Hey it’s Alex, leave me a message or whatever.”

“Alex, it's Jo. I just talked to your mom because you weren’t answering my calls and she said she hasn’t seen you or heard from you in awhile. So… please call me back. I just need to know you’re okay. I love you.”

“It’s me. It’s just been… A really long day and all I really want to do is curl up in bed with you. But you’re not here and you’re not in Iowa and I’m starting to worry that you’re dead in a ditch somewhere. Anyways I love you, please call me back.”

“Hi, it’s me again. Jo, you know your wife? The woman you married? I just… I’m worried about you and the longer I don’t hear from you the more worried I get. So please just call me back. I love you.”

“Alex, please pick up the phone. I don’t care where you are or what you’ve been doing. I don’t care if you’ve… committed murder or something. I don’t know, I just… I need you to answer me. If you’re not coming home I need to know so please just stop my wondering and answer me. Please. I love you, call me back.”

Alex sighed as he listened to the plethora of voicemails that Jo had left for him, her voice sounding more desperate the more messages she left. He wanted to call her, to answer one of her phone calls but he didn’t think it was fair to her. How was he supposed to drag her away from Seattle and everyone they loved to come to the middle of nowhere? How could he ask her to make that sacrifice when he was struggling to accept it himself?

As if hearing his thoughts, his phone screen lit up with a photo of Jo and him on their wedding day. Despite his doubts and worries Alex punched the green accept button and brought the phone up to his ear.

“Alex? Is that you?”

He only hesitates for a moment before letting out a sigh and answering, “Yeah it’s me.”

The relieved sigh and barely concealed tears break his heart as he listens to Jo on the other line. This was why he couldn’t go back, why he couldn’t face Jo again. Just hearing her on the other end of the phone was breaking his heart, he knew if he stood across from her and told her the choice he’d made that he would never be able to walk away.

“Oh my god, I thought you were dead,” Jo’s voice rang across the line, cries punctuating her words as she spoke a mile a minute. “Are you okay? You’re not hurt or in trouble or anything are you?”

“No… No, I'm okay. I’m fine I promise.”

“Good then where the hell are you,” Jo’s voice went from worried to stern in a flash, her tone almost scaring Alex as he listened to her. “I haven’t seen you in a month and a half and no one has been able to contact you for almost three weeks now. I thought you were lying in a coma somewhere so you better have a damn good reason as to why you haven’t been answering your phone.”

Of course she was angry, she had every right to be. If Alex were in Jo’s shoes he would’ve lost his mind trying to figure out where she was. But he wasn’t, instead he was lying in a hotel room thousands of miles away from Seattle keeping a huge secret from his wife who he normally told everything to. Alex let his eyes roam to the crisp white envelope on the bedside table next to him, Jo’s name in large letters across the front of it.

“It’s a long story, Jo.”

“Well start talking then Alex. I have been losing my mind here and I deserve an explanation,” Jo paused for a moment, her voice coming back clear and resolute when she spoke again. “If you’re leaving us, if you’re not coming home I need you to say it. I can’t keep sitting here playing back everything I’ve done trying to figure out what I did wrong.”

“Jo you haven’t done anything wrong, you could never,” Alex is quick to stop the destructive thoughts he knows are swirling around in Jo’s head. A deep pang of guilt hits him as he realizes that his lack of communication has probably torn her apart. “I’m just trying to figure some things out and… that might mean I don’t come back to Seattle.”

The line is silent and for a long moment Alex almost thinks that she’s hung up on him. Finally Jo speaks again, “You're telling me I didn’t do anything wrong but you’re not coming home? I don’t get it. Can you just tell me what's really happening?”

“I have kids.”

“I was going to-��

“With Izzie. She used the embryos and she has twins. We have twins,”

The all consuming silence from the other end of the line surrounds him once again. This time though, the pause felt like the heaviest thing he’d ever felt, the weight settling on his chest and taking his breath with it as he waited for Jo to respond to him.

“Oh.”

“Jo, I had no idea. I called Izzie before Mer’s trial and I was telling her all about you and then… then I heard them in the background. Alexis was singing some song and Eli was yelling at her to stop and I couldn’t not ask about them,” Alex let out a sigh as he ran a hand across his face. “They’re perfect Jo, god they're… They’re everything, the best of me and the best of Izzie. I have a chance to make this family whole, and I just hope you love me back enough to let me ta-“

“You have a family here too Alex! You have people that are depending on you and waiting for you to come home,” Jo was on the verge of tears and she yelled down the line, her voice trembling as she tried to get her point across. “Why didn’t you tell me? Or answer your phone? God Alex I love you but sometimes you can be so stupid. I’m looking up flights now, I can get there tomorrow afternoon.”

“No babe, I don’t need you to come out here.”

“Then tell me what I’m supposed to do! Because I’ve been sitting at home for the last month and a half waiting for you to come home and that didn’t do anything.”

Alex let out a sigh, his shoulders falling as he leaned back against the headboard of his hotel bed, “Jo I’m sorry but I have kids and I need to be here for them. I’ve already missed five years of their lives, I don’t want to miss anymore.”

“Then let me come out there Alex! If you’re planning on staying why won’t you let me come out,” the next pause that comes is from Alex as Jo let’s his silence answer her questions. “You really weren’t planning on coming back to me, were you?”

“Jo, please-“

“No Alex! You don’t just choose to end things without asking me! It's like the past seven years have meant nothing to you,” a steadying breath sounded over the line, Alex’s heart beating out of time as he listened to Jo. “You cannot just leave us here like garbage Alex. I deserve more than that, we deserve more than that! So either you come home or…. Fuck! I don’t know. Alex please.”

Alex thinks he can almost tangibly feel his heart breaking in two as Jo cries out to him. He loves her, more than anything he thinks, but he has children and their faces pop into his mind every second of the day now. He can’t fathom leaving them after already missing so much of their lives.

“Were you even planning on coming back home? Or were you just going to ignore my calls until I got the hint.”

“I didn't know she would have my kids, and now that she does, I don't know how to look anyone in the eye if I don't stay and do everything I can to make this work, make this a life, make this a family,” Alex’s pauses to catch his breath, listening to Jo’s cries. “I never meant to hurt you Jo-“

“Then you should’ve told me! You knew for weeks before you left and you didn’t say anything. You just kissed me and laughed at my jokes and ate dinner across from me crawled into bed next to me and made love to me like nothing was wrong. But the whole time you were just counting down the days until you left without another word,” her breaths are unsteady now, Jo hyperventilating on the other end of the phone in a way that makes Alex want to forget everything he’s seen in Kansas. “I can’t breathe, I can’t do this Alex. If you’re leaving us just say it. Please.”

“Jo, I’m sorry-“

“Just say it!”

“I wish getting everything I always wanted didn't have to hurt you in the process. But I can't lie to you. And I can't come home,” Alex is forcing the words out, barely able to say them without bursting into tears himself. “I'm not coming home, Jo. I can't face you. I can't look you in the eye because I wouldn't be able to walk away.”

“And that doesn’t mean anything to you? Everything we worked for, every uphill battle we fought to be together means nothing now? Did you ever think I would go with you, no questions asked,” Jo takes a deep breath before finishing. “I get that you have kids in Kansas, but you have a family here too Alex and we’ve been here for years, we’re always going to be here waiting and wondering and… I have to go. I love you and I’m sorry we weren’t enough.”

The line finally drops silent and Alex lets the tears he’d been holding back fall. He thinks he’s making the right choice, being there for his kids and giving them what he and Jo never had as children. But the pain and aching in his heart make him second guess his decision, if only for a moment.

-

It’s two days after his phone call with Jo when Alex realizes that he might have royally screwed everything up. His eyes follow Eli and Alexis around the farmyard as Izzie tells him about their life.

“We were actually in Tacoma before moving out to Kansas. Well, really it was just me but I was already four months pregnant by the time I decided to move,” Izzie let a chuckle out as Alex’s brain began to work overtime. “Somehow we made it though, I swear those two have been keeping me on my toes since they were in the womb.”

Alex ran back Jo’s words from their conversation in slow motion. He had played them over and over again in his head since she’d hung up on him but now he realized they might have a new meaning.

“If you’re leaving us, if you’re not coming home I need you to say it.”

“You have a family here too Alex!”

“You cannot just leave us here like garbage Alex. I deserve more than that, we deserve more than that!”

“We’re always going to be here waiting and wondering.”

“I love you and I’m sorry we weren’t enough.”

Sure she might have meant Meredith and her kids and the family he’d found for himself in Seattle but Alex knew Jo better than that.

“You know what I mean,” Izzie’s voice snapped Alex out of his daze, his eyes glassy as he looked from his hands to the blonde next to him. “You okay?”

“I uh… I think my wife is pregnant.”

+

It’s nearly 10 PM when a knock sounds on the loft door. Jo almost doesn’t get up from her spot on the couch as her fatigued body sinks into the cushions, reasoning with herself that anyone of importance has a key. When there’s another knock however, she begrudgingly drags herself up to slide the metal door open.

“Oh my god…”

Standing in front of her is Alex, eyes tired and hair damp from the near constant downpour of Seattle rain. She tries to ignore the suitcase at his feet, not wanting to get her hopes up when they’d already been so crushed just a week before when she’d spoken to him.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry that I walked away from you and from all of this,” Alex runs a hand through his hair, his gaze floating to the ceiling as he struggles to keep his composure. “I want to be here Jo, you mean everything to me.”

“How am I supposed to believe that? How am I supposed to let you back in when I know you were about to leave me without a word,” she’s begging herself not to cry right now, she’s done enough of that in the past week. But her stupid hormones bring tears to her eyes that she tries unsuccessfully to blink away. “Alex, you were ready to walk away from everything we’ve built without so much as a goodbye!”

“I know but-“

“But what?! Izzie sent you back home? Your conscience suddenly crawled back into your body after taking a two month vacation,” Jo’s voice rises as she stares Alex down. “What do you think you could possibly say that would make this better?”

Alex takes a step forward and Jo can’t bring herself to step away from him. Her mind is swirling, tears stinging her eyes as she meets his gaze, “Jo, I’m sorry.”

“Well sorry doesn't fix everything Alex.”

There’s a quiet moment between them as they stand mere inches from each other, eyes locked but no words exchanged. Alex does look remorseful, like every decision he had excluded her from is finally weighing heavily on his shoulders.

“I’m not going back to Kansas. Well, I’m not staying there at least,” Jo blinks up at Alex, waiting for him to continue before she says anything else. “I love my kids, god they're perfect, but that’s not where I belong. And I’m sorry it took so long for me to realize that, I’m sorry it took you yelling at me to realize that because it just confirmed that I should’ve talked to you as soon as I found out.”

Alex takes another step forward, his chest almost touching hers as his hand comes up to cradle the curve of her stomach that one of his old shirts had hidden. In the month and a half that he’s been gone Jo’s figure had curved outward significantly, the baby bump now noticeable no matter what she wore. She’s not sure how he’d figured it out, but the simple act breaks the flimsy hold she has on her emotions. Instead of the tears she’d become so used to though, Jo finds herself overwhelmed with anger as she pushes away from Alex.

“If this is why you're back you can turn around and leave again.”

"It's not…. Well it is but it's not the only reason."

"Alex!”

“Just listen please. I'm not back because we're having a baby, I’m back because you being pregnant made me realize how stupid I was being when I decided to move to Kansas. Eli and Alexis... They're amazing, but they were amazing before I got there too. And I don't want to be a dad without you by my side. I want it all with you Jo and I know that might be hard to believe right now but-“

Before Alex finished his statement Jo had launched herself into his arms, tears staining his shirt where she had her face pressed against his chest, "I'm still pissed at you but these stupid hormones all telling me to give you another chance.”

“Thank god, I didn't have a backup plan if you kicked me out again.”

"But,” Jo leaned up and fixed Alex with a serious look. "This is your last chance. If you EVER screw up this badly again…”

“I won't.”

Jo leans back, pressing her lips to Alex’s as she pulled him into the loft, “Welcome home.”

[sing-you-fools]

I am being completely honest when I say that I think getting a creative writing degree made me a worse writer.

Now, I don't necessarily think this would be the case for everyone. I'm sure most people get a ton out of it. I just - I'm not trying to brag, but I was a good writer. I recently found something I wrote when I was twelve and read it, expecting to be deeply humiliated about it, because, well, I was twelve. But it was good! I mean, it was a bit pretentious, but it was good. And I remember writing it down one afternoon in an excited flurry. It's not even something I really worked on. I just spat this out sitting on my bed writing it out on the back of this Evita coffee table book I had, because I was obsessed with the musical and didn't understand what fascism was yet. (I was team Che, anyway.) Multiple adults over the course of my childhood told me I was a really good writer and that I should be an author. Looking back on these moments as an adult who interacts with children, I can see sincerity in them that I didn’t as a child - imposter syndrome struck me early, I guess.

Getting a creative writing degree made me terrified to write. Most of my professors didn't allow us to write the kind of things I enjoyed writing. And everywhere, we had these strict rules to follow. Show, don't tell. We'd get torn apart in our peer reviews and grading for everything that wasn't "said," every "to be" verb, every adverb.

It made me terrified to use the language I've always loved.

I love adverbs. And yeah, I try not to overuse them, but I so hate the advice that there's always a more specific verb! There simply isn't!* "Don't say he ran wildly, say he galloped!" Okay! But what if galloped is where I started? If you're so desperate for me to show-don't-tell, why can't I add another layer to that? Why can't he gallop frantically? Lolly lolly lolly get your adverbs here, bitches! Anything described you can describe some more! And do you want me to write naturally, or do you want me to avoid any use at all of to be? Because it can't be both! Sometimes something just is, and any attempt to avoid saying it will just end up clunky and heavy-handed! (I particularly want to call out the fact that "to be" is heavily involved in our other verbs; "I am writing" means something different than "I write.")

I stopped writing.

I've recently rediscovered it, over the past few years. I'm 36. I'm working on** something right now that I'm very excited about. I'll get good again, I think. But I feel like I've learned so much more from other writers on tiktok and tumblr, just talking about what works for them. I never would have thought to write [FIGURE OUT WHAT HAPPENS HERE], or skip ahead to a scene I was more in the mood to write if I got stuck. They didn't tell us that. I read something the other day that said, hey, if you get writer's block, dig into your plot so far and see if something's wrong and getting you stuck! That's great advice. I didn’t get that in school. I needed to learn how to write a shitty first draft, not how to avoid every interesting word I could possibly want to use.

I remember once reading a Jamaica Kincaid essay in a creative nonfiction class. One of my classmates pointed out to the professor that we'd get a terrible grade if we handed it in. She agreed! So why are you showing us? Why are you saying, here's something you'd get a terrible grade for! Isn't it amazing? Do you want us to be good writers or fucking not?

I'm reblogging this from @neil-gaiman, so thank you, Neil. I feel at least slightly vindicated in my feeling that the rules are bullshit, actually. And I'm seeing you Monday! Can't wait.

Anyway, writers: The rules are a starting point. Look into a program before you get a degree. And your enjoyment matters.

writing and craft and stuff

"Mia do you have any writing advice pet peeves"

why, yes i do. presented without too much comment:

it's a scam because you need to use both things to tell a story effectively. if it's all show, your novel is going to be over 200k words and half of it will probably be a travelogue. if it's all tell, we'll have a hard time getting into the characters' thoughts and feelings. show, don't tell exists to help newer writers explore what's going in their characters' minds. it's not a hard and fast rule once you've learned how to characterize and give context. so please, do some telling. do some beautiful telling.