#I had to laugh the whole time I was drawing this

[retrowitchy]

katniss & peeta vs haymitch watching the 50th quell replay, 25 years apart (a textual comparison)

sunrise on the reaping:

"The recap opens on the reading of the card, which I watched from home with Ma and Sid in the spring. A little girl all dressed in white, the picture of innocence, lifts the lid on a wooden box filled with envelopes. They widen the shot to include President Snow, who intones, "And now, to honor our second Quarter Quell, we respect the wishes of those who risked all to bring peace to our great nation." He leans over and carefully selects the envelope marked with a 50 and reads the card inside. "On the fiftieth anniversary, as a reminder that two rebels died for each Capitol citizen, every district will be required to send twice as many tributes to the Hunger Games. Two female and two male. In this doubling of reparations, we remember that true strength lies not in numbers, but in righteousness,"" (SOTR, pg. 340)

catching fire:

"After the anthem, they show President Snow drawing the envelope for the second Quarter Quell. He looks younger but just as repellent. He reads from the square of paper in the same onerous voice he used for ours, informing Panem that in honor of the Quarter Quell, there will be twice the number of tributes," (CF, pg. 221)

sunrise on the reaping:

" "Maysilee Donner!" There's Maysilee, Merrilee, and Asterid clutching one another in the crowd. One of the tearful good-byes captured by Plutarch." (SOTR, pg. 340)

catching fire:

"...and then I hear the name "Maysilee Donner". "Oh!" I say. "She was my mother's friend." The camera finds her in the crowd, clinging to two other girls. All blond. All definitely merchants' kids. "I think that's your mother hugging her," says Peeta quietly.

And he's right. As Maysilee Donner bravely disengages herself and heads for the stage, I catch a glimpse of my mother at my age, and no one has exaggerated her beauty. Holding her hand and weeping is another girl who looks just like Maysilee. But a lot like someone else I know, too. "Madge," I say.

“That's her mother. She and Maysilee were twins or something,” Peeta says. “My dad mentioned it once.”" (CF, pg. 221 )

sunrise on the reaping:

"Incitatus Loomy could not have masterminded a finer parade. The frantic backstage prep never makes an appearance, just a amjestic, orderly rollout of the tributes. There's a final aerial shot of all twelve chariots cruising along the route in perfect sync, which ends about fifteen seconds before that blue firecracker exploded, sending the whole event into chaos. This is all the country saw anyway. You had to be there in person to know about the crrashing chariots and me holding Snow accountable for Louella's death." (SOTR, pg. 341)

catching fire:

"The chariot rides — in which the District 12 kids are dressed in awful coal miners' outfits — and the interviews flash by." (CF, pg. 222)

sunrise on the reaping:

"Lou Lou's reduced to a girl wearing live-reptile fashion, Maysilee's and Wyatt's memorable turns are entirely ignored, and I get one snarky exchange with Caesar:

"So, Haymitch, what do you think of the Games having one hundred percent more competitors than usual?"

"I don't see that it makes much difference. They'll still be one hundred percent as stupid as usual, so I figure my odds will be roughly the same."

The audience laughs, and I give them this grin that confirms me as a stuck-up, selfish jerk. No mention of my support of the Newcomers. No silly interplay about making booze for Peacekeepers. The rascal's just a jackass." (SOTR pg. 342)

catching fire:

"There's little time to focus on anyone. But since Haymitch is going to be the victor, we get to see one full exchange between him and Caesar Flickerman, who looks exactly as he always does in his twinkling midnight blue suit. Only his dark green hair, eyelids, and lips are different. 

“So, Haymitch, what do you think of the Games having one hundred percent more competitors than usual?” asks Caesar.

Haymitch shrugs.

“I don't see that it makes much difference. They'll still be one hundred percent as stupid as usual, so I figure my odds will be roughly the same.” The audience bursts out laughing and Haymitch gives them a half smile.

Snarky. Arrogant. Indifferent. “He didn't have to reach far for that, did he?” I say." (CF, pg. 223)

sunrise on the reaping:

"The jackass, meaning me, grabs his gear and hightails it out of there and then we get to watch the bloodbath, where eighteen kids are killed in excruciating detail." (SOTR, pg. 342)

catching fire:

"The beauty disorients many of the players, because when the gong sounds, most of them seem like they're trying to wake from a dream. Not Haymitch, though. He's at the Cornucopia, armed with weapons and a backpack of choice supplies. He heads for the woods before most of the others have stepped off their plates. Eighteen tributes are killed in the bloodbath that first day." (CF, pg. 224)

sunrise on the reaping:

"Up until this point, I think the recap's been a fair record of what occurred in the arena. However, on Day 2, things start to go wonky. At some point, Maysilee, on her own, kills the boy from District 1, Loupe, which I believe to be true because she told me this. There are a lot of tributes still recovering from the poison and the Career pack's hunting Newcomers. That, too, seems likely. But the recount of what happened in the woods, my tale, begins to deviate almost immediately. Timelines are twisted. Connections misleading. It's less flat-out lying than lying by ommission. For instance, I see myself fighting squirrels, although they weren't around until the third day when I fought them to save Ampert. But we haven't even met up yet, so I seem to be trying to save my own life. They show Lous Lou gasping in the flowers, only I'm nowhere in sight. Later, I'm just running from the butterflies without even a glimpse of my feeling with her body, hiding in the willows, and bringing on the shockers as punishment." (SOTR, pg. 343)

catching fire:

"Others begin to die off and it becomes clear that almost everything in this pretty place—the luscious fruit dangling from the bushes, the water in the crystalline streams, even the scent of the flowers when inhaled too directly—is deadly poisonous. Only the rainwater and the food provided at the Cornucopia are safe to consume. There's also a large, well-stocked Career pack of ten tributes scouring the mountain area for victims. Haymitch has his own troubles over in the woods, where the fluffy golden squirrels turn out to be carnivorous and attack in packs, and the butterfly stings bring agony if not death. But he persists in moving forward, always keeping the distant mountain at his back. Maysilee Donner turns out to be pretty resourceful herself, for a girl who leaves the Cornucopia with only a small backpack." (CF, pg. 224 )

sunrise on the reaping:

"In fact, our picnic, the campout, the bombing of the tank, my rampage, and the arena going haywire- not a bit of that appears. The horrors of the volcano take center stage. The tributes experience the flame-shooting eruption, asphyxiation by the ash cloud, burns from the chemical lava. Twelve die." (SOTR, pg. 343)

catching fire:

"With the mountain spewing liquid fire, and the meadow offering no means of concealment, the remaining thirteen tributes — including Haymitch and Maysilee — have no choice but to confine themselves to the woods." (CF, pg. 225)

sunrise on the reaping:

"With the tank plot erased, my whole agenda seems to have been about getting to the end of the arena, which was, I guess, my cover story. It rains, but they've concealed all the bombing's damage. The arena's as perfect as ever. I get trapped in the hedge, follow the gray rabbit to freedom, and run into Panache and company." (SOTR, pg. 343)

catching fire:

"Haymitch seems bent on continuing in the same direction, away from the now volcanic mountain, but a maze of tightly woven hedges forces him to circle back into the center of the woods, where he encounters three of the Careers and pulls his knife." (CF, pg. 225)

sunrise on the reaping:

""We'd live longer with two of us." Oh, Maysilee. I am mortified to be sitting here." (SOTR, pg. 344)

catching fire:

"“We'd live longer with two of us.” “Guess you just proved that,” says Haymitch, rubbing his neck." (CF, pg. 225)

sunrise on the reaping:

"Is it Day 4 or 5? Maysilee and my attempts to carve our way through the hedge have merged into one big sequence that involves the ladybugs and blowtorch. We're on the cliff that looks down on the treacherous rocks, but they steer clear of the generator. They've edited out the cannon announcing Maritte's death and with it the part where Maysilee says she's just going back for the potatoes, so it looks like we've really decided to split up." (SOTR, pg. 344)

catching fire:

"When they finally do make it through that impossible hedge, using a blowtorch from one of the dead Careers' packs, they find themselves on flat, dry earth that leads to a cliff. Far below, you can see jagged rocks. 

“That's all there is, Haymitch. Let's go back,” says Maysilee. 

“No, I'm staying here,” he says.

“All right. There's only five of us left. May as well say good-bye now, anyway,” she says. “I don't want it to come down to you and me.” 

“Okay,” he agrees. That's all. He doesn't offer to shake her hand or even look at her. And she walks away." (CF, pg. 226)

sunrise on the reaping:

"The pink birds attack Maysilee and she screams. For the first time, I look like I might be redeemable because I run to her aid. Oh, no. They haven't turned this into a redemption story, have they? Selfish rascal learns to care about others? Please tell me no." (SOTR, pg. 344)

catching fire:

"The alliance is over and she broke it off, so no one could blame him for ignoring her. But Haymitch runs for her, anyway. He arrives only in time to watch the last of a flock of candy pink birds, equipped with long, thin beaks, skewer her through the neck. He holds her hand while she dies, and all I can think of is Rue and how I was too late to save her, too. " (CF, pg. 227)

sunrise on the reaping:

"I appear to have finally remembered that I belong to a wider alliance so I'm going to the rescue, when the cannon sounds and I come upon Silka, Wellie's head in hand. Smash cut to the golden squirrels stripping Maritte to the bone. No matter that she's been long dead by this time." (SOTR, pg. 345)

catching fire:

"Later that day, another tribute is killed in combat and a third gets eaten by a pack of those fluffy squirrels, leaving Haymitch and a girl from District 1 to vie for the crown." (CF, pg. 227)

sunrise on the reaping:

"Silka dies, her cannon fires, and I'm hanging on by a thread. The sunflower bomb, the quartz, the flint striker- there's no record of any of them. All of them gone or tucked away from sight. The hovercraft removes Silka's body. Trumpets declare my victory. A claw closes around me." (SOTR, pg. 345)

catching fire:

"The cannon sounds, her body is removed, and the trumpets blow to announce Haymitch's victory. Peeta clicks off the tape and we sit there in silence for a while." (CF, pg. 228)

[boricuasirena25]

loser, nerdy 2000s ellie x popular, bimbo, mean girl fem!reader headcanons

authors note : just wanted to say thank uu sm for the support i’ve seen on my last post abt nerdy ellie, i fr posted it without thinking and i can tell a lot of yall like it! im taking requests for her so lmk what uu want. :)

cw : some nsfw (some of the things i put in the nsfw might be like pg13 but i still put them there anyways idk 😭), lotta jokes abt boobies, ellie’s PAINFULLY nerdy like oh my goodness. takes place in the late 2000s to be oddly specific.

— SFW

• she has fantasies of you and her in the medieval times, you being the glamorous princess and her being your daring, knight in shinning armor. she literally draws it in her sketchbook, pages filled with doodles of you in corsets or big and gorgeous low cut gowns, her holding up a sword towards your “boyfriend” adrian, who in her medieval universe is “lord adrian of valebrume”, a totally made-up kingdom name that sounds dark and full of lies. she made sure it rhymed with gloom, doom, and consume—because duh, he’s the villain.

• and her favorite medieval scenarios? saving you. you’re chained in a tower. a dragon’s outside. adrian is there, trying to “rescue” you but being a fool. ellie shows up on horseback, sword drawn, cloak flapping dramatically. she slays the dragon, pushes adrian off a cliff, and drops to one knee like: “my lady. i have come for you.” you run into her arms, kiss her hard, and whisper, “you’re all I ever wanted, sir williams…”

• she can solve a rubik’s cube in under a minute. but she will not do it in front of people because she’s been bullied enough. only her stuffed triceratops knows how smart she really is.

• she’s so soft for you it’s pathetic. you could insult her in front of the entire class and she’d still smile and go “you’re so funny…” like a kicked puppy. you could say “shut up, ellie” and she’d respond with “yes ma’am” and a full-body shiver.

• 100% draws on her converse “E + (your initial)” with a heart inside of it.

• she’s, OF COURSE, obsessed with dinosaurs. she’ll say corny pick up lines like “i think if i was a dinosaur, i’d be a simp-o-saurus. because… y’know… for you. i’m simpin’ real hard.” and then she’d probably smack herself in the head after like “what the f*ck was i thinking…”.

• even though she’s HEAVILY bullied (specifically for being a lesbian who’s obsessed with you) shes blessed enough to constantly third wheel with dina and jesse.

• quite literally owns a rubber “i heart boobies” bracelet that she insists is for breast cancer awareness, but really she just thinks boobs are awesome and it’s the only time she’s allowed to say it out loud.

• she’s knows how to skate and does it quite frequently as a source of transportation (until joel gives her his rusted up, old, monster truck that ellie isn’t allowed to get till she passes spanish).

• death note is her favorite manga. she bought the first volume from a crusty used bookstore with joel, and it unlocked something feral inside her. the intensity? the drama? the moral conflict? she ate it up. once accidentally moaned when reading a panel of misa sitting on light’s lap. would never admit that.

• she owns a fake death note she made and writes adrian’s name in it “adrian luis davis – punched in the nuts by a ghost and then falls in a porta-potty in front of the whole school. dies of embarrassment.” then she drew a tiny doodle of him slipping on a banana peel. and if another boy makes you laugh? she flips open her ‘death note’, glares over her glasses, and mutters “he’s done for.”.

• she’d be a marching band lesbian idc, she’d play percussion and have the most wrinkled up band uniform ever. and she literally never wears the hat right. it’s always tilted or falling off her head. one time it flew off during a performance and she had to kick it off the field. she was mad until she looked over and saw you laughing at her in the stands.

• still plays the guitar, (she does in every universe), and she practices every single day. after school, while watching invader zim. she zones out completely when she’s playing. it’s the only time her brain shuts up—unless she’s thinking about your boobs. then it’s just chaos. one night she was home alone and played “the only exception” by paramore after smoking weed and cried because it reminded her of you.

• she didn’t tell anyone. just laid on the floor of her living room like a snow angel in her spider-man boxers whimpering.

• she owns a jennifer’s body DVD and keeps it hidden under her bed. watches it on mute when joel isn’t home. she has the kiss scene with needy memorized (she sometimes even rewatches it and imagines it as u and her).

• she owns a chunky PS3 and plays GTA IV when she’s had a bad day, or is just like super angry as her own therapy. she’ll storm into her room, throw her backpack down, and boots up her fat, fingerprint-covered PS3. the fan’s loud, the controller’s kinda sticky from soda, and the GTA IV disc is always already in. she plays like a menace—steals a car, blasts the liberty rock radio station, and causes chaos in liberty city.

• but if she’s super mad?! like adrian calling her out in front of the whole class once again?! his arms around your waist while you just sit there?! she types cheat codes into her cracked notebook and gives niko bellic rocket launchers and infinite health. she’s full on blowing up traffic jams, launching grenades into alleyways, and driving into the water just for the hell of it.

• when joel checks on her like, “you alright, kiddo?” she just grunts “yeah,” while casually tossing molotovs at cop cars with dead eyes. but she plays minecraft when she’s just chilling. she builds the ugliest dirt houses with torches everywhere and lives like a little swamp gremlin. has one big chest labeled “STUFF” and refuses to organize it. she wears full iron armor and still falls in lava. blames lag.

• OBSESSED WITH SPIDER-MAN. she literally has spider-man bedsheets and posters in her room; one above her bed, one crooked on the celling holding on by a thread (when her fan is on too long it almost blows off), and one behind her door.

• when she writes about you in her journal she puts “my MJ <3”. she even draws it. little comic panels where she’s spidey saving MJ (you) from some made-up villain that originates from adrian. ellie gives herself abs and a six-pack. no shame.

• she also owns a knock off spider-man costume. it’s from walmart and a little too tight, with faded colors and one busted web-shooter strap. she wears it with her dirty converse and grey sweatpants and thinks she’s the coolest thing ever. wears it to the store when joel isn’t paying attention. she once got it stuck in the dryer and cried.

• only wears boxers. various different pairs that r always peaking out of her sweatpants, cargos, or jeans. her favorite pair? her prized possession? a pair of faded-ass spider-man boxers. they’re red and blue with tiny spidey logos all over. she’s had them since middle school and refuses to let them go—even though they’re worn thin, have a little hole on the thigh, and the elastic’s basically screaming for mercy.

• she calls them her “lucky boxers” and lowkey wears them on days she knows she might see you. she also owns black boxers with little green dinosaurs on them and classic plaid ones that r oversized and practically fall off her hips. the waistband’s always showing. always. at this point, it’s part of the fit. she doesn’t even care if they get bunched under her jeans—just tugs at them in the hallway like “gotta air it out.”

• if she’s nervous around you, she adjusts her boxers way too much and acts like it’s not because she’s turned on.

• and for some reason, this loser is like freakishly good at soccer? beastly good. jaw-dropping good. weirdly good. but then again it’s probably because she’s a lesbian. she’s fast, aggressive, strategic—she plays forward like she isn’t afraid to slide tackle some 6’0 dude to the ground. she gets called for fouls all the time because she plays like she’s ready to fight. her coach yells at her all the time; “williams! dial it down!”, “williams, it’s not that deep—GET OFF HER!”.

• she wears the same cleats from middle school. they’re black, duct-taped, and smell like her garage. her shin guards are always crooked, and her socks never match.

• she once tried to hit you up by calling you mamacita with the worst accent you’ve ever heard. thought it was smooth. just for you to hit her with the dirtiest look ever. let’s just say she never said that out loud again.

• her all time favorite soda is dr pepper. she drinks it a little too much… her bedroom is a crime scene of empty cans. they’re stacked into little pyramids on her windowsill, crammed into her backpack, one might even be under her pillow. joel once tripped over a can pyramid and she screamed like he destroyed a sacred monument. BUT she swears it “makes her smarter.” she’ll sip it during math tests like it’s brain juice. “it’s got 23 flavors, joel. i’m running on 23 IQ boosts right now.”.

• literally owns a faded, crusty dr pepper graphic tee. it’s oversized and has holes in the collar, but she thinks it’s high fashion. it was $3 at goodwill and she treats it like a designer item. if she’s wearing it under her flannel, it’s a special day. she also 100% has a dr pepper can tab on a necklace chain. she popped it off her “lucky can” and wears it under her shirt. when you find it one day and asks about it, ellie stutters, “it’s—it’s like, uh, for good luck. and stuff…”

• dina notices ellie in class going through her sketchbook, finds one page where your name is written next to a sketch of you in a princess outfit. next to it? ellie’s self-insert knight version—sword drawn, hearts floating around them. dina looks up slowly and goes, “ellie… have you spoken to her yet?”

• “she said ‘thanks’ when I let her borrow a pencil. we’re basically married.”

— NSFW

• she gets turned on by the stupidest things about you. the way you chew gum, the way you fix your hair, the sound of your laugh, the way you tie your shoes, the way you stretch in class and your shirt rides up a little. she’ll cross her legs in AP biology like “be cool. don’t squirm. don’t look at her boobs again.” just to take another quick glance down.

• ellie found out what a strap was from the L word. she saw shane pull it out of a drawer once and nearly passed out. didn’t even know what it was called at first—just googled “lesbian harness thing from l word” on ask jeeves. then, when scrolling online she saw this neon green strap-on with a ugly, cheap, fake leather, hideous colored harness—and for some reason, she bought it. i mean the harness was only $29.99, dildo $14.99 and with a shipping of $8 dollars, it’s not like she could afford those $90 ones. now it’s growing dust under her bed.

• her cute, hideous glasses always slide off her nose when she catches you near her in a mini skirt (or she pushes them up to get a better look at my tits) and because of this, she can quite literally draw your tits from pure memory. no reference. no glances. just pure gay brain storage. she knows the exact curve, how they rest when you’re sitting vs standing, how they look in that one white top with the scoop neckline that makes her borderline pass out.

• but even though she knows them like the back of her hand, she still sneaks glances when she thinks you’re not looking. sometimes you’re bent over the locker room bathroom mirror, adjusting your necklace or putting on lip gloss, and she’s across the room—pretending to tie her converse back on but she’s staring dead at your tits in the mirror reflection like she’s about to start drooling.

• and she’s memorized every single bra you own. color, fabric, lace pattern, where it cuts on your back, how the straps sit on your shoulders, whether the padding lifts your tits or not. she knows which ones you wear when you want to feel cute and which ones are for laundry day.

• when she’s high? forget about it. she starts rambling about the “artistic gravity” of your tits, how the curve reminds her of renaissance sculptures, and how she wants to sculpt them from memory using clay she found behind the garage. dina and jesse once walked in on this monologue and left in silence.

• she doesn’t even smoke that often—maybe once every couple weeks if someone else has it. but every time she does? she turns into a flushed, squirmy, glassy-eyed mess who gets insanely horny within ten minutes. like clockwork. doesn’t matter if it’s a chill high or a head high—ellie’s already halfway down bad the moment it hits her bloodstream.

• one time she smoked weed in dina’s garage with her and jesse. the three of them snuck out to her garage—lights off, old couch, lava lamp glowing. they pass it around like total amateurs, coughing and giggling and pretending to be cool. ten minutes in, ellie is absolutely done for.

• her knees are pulled up to her chest, hoodie sleeves over her hands, eyes half-lidded, cheeks flushed bright pink. she’s quiet, too quiet, until dina looks over and goes: “ellie… you good?” and ellie just mumbles, “mhm… i’m chillin’…” while clearly not chillin’.

• she’s thinking about you in a miniskirt. she’s thinking about your glossed-up lips. she’s thinking about your thighs on either side of her head. jesse’s rambling about alien conspiracies meanwhile ellie’s gripping the edge of the blanket, vibrating with how badly she needs to excuse herself. she finally blurts out “i’m gonna go… uh… bathroom. real quick.”

• she bolts toward the house, slamming the bathroom door shut. she barely locks it before her hand’s down her boxers—moaning softly into her arm, her mind spiraling with nothing but you. how pretty you are, how good you smell, how soft your thighs would feel wrapped around her flushed face.

• and her sketchbook is a problem. deep in her sketchbook, the parts she refuses to let anyone else see, are filthy. you sitting on her face, moaning. you spread open with your fingers, juice dripping down your thighs, her name scratched onto your skin. you with hickeys on your chest, teary eyes, flushed cheeks, and the exact position your mouth makes when you’re cumming.

• she’s drawn close-ups of your tits in her sketchbook more times than she can count. like full-studies. the shading, the softness, how the nipples perk when you’re cold. she knows which way they tilt when you’re laying on your side. she draws them squished under her hands. she draws them from memory and gets mad when it’s not perfect.

• and some of her sketches are drawn from scenarios she wishes happened. you sitting in her lap in just your mini skirt with your hand around her neck, you pulling her by the collar into bed with a kiss, you in the school bathroom kissing her against a stall door.

• in which ellie draws herself completely cornered against the stall door. her cheeks are flushed bright red, glasses fogged up, and her lips are shiny from your lip gloss—because you kissed it off her. in the corner of the page, ellie scribbled: “she wore juicy perfume. i could smell it all over me after.”

• remember ellie’s medieval fantasies? well let’s just say they’re not all innocent… a specific one is where she drew you pressed to the castle wall, dress lifted, bent over. ellie’s behind you, armor still on, her gauntlet clamped around your mouth while she takes you with a thick medieval strap—drawn with detailed curve and shimmer of neon green (yes, she draws the neon green strap even in fantasy).

• you’re moaning through her hand, crown slipping, legs shaking while your heels dig into the stone. she adds notes like: “told her to be quiet. she couldn’t.”, “her moans echoed through the halls.”

[devdozes]

Spiderman phainon but what about Spiderman mydeimos???

SPIDERMAN MYDEIMOS‼️

AAAA I NEED TO START DRAWING SPIDEY MYDEI RN

Being Spider-Man's Girlfriend was supposed to be cool, but nobody told you it would involve this much damage control.

"Hold still, Mydeimos, you're bleeding on the couch again."

"It's fine," he said, tone as flat as ever, even as you pressed a disinfectant wipe to his arm. His golden eyes barely flicked toward the wound. "It'll heal."

"Yeah, but my couch won't," you huffed. "You keep doing this, and we're gonna have to invest in plastic covers like an old married couple."

"Tch. Ugly."

"So is your arm right now."

He exhaled sharply through his nose—his version of a laugh. His whole vibe screamed 'intimidating man who has no time for nonsense,' but you knew better. Mydei might look like a cold, blunt realist, but he had his moments of secret softness. Not that he'd ever admit to them.

"You saw the news, right?" he asked, switching topics while you bandaged him up. "Everyone thinks Spider-Man is terrifying. Some reporter said I move like a 'predator in the dark.'" He scoffed. "I'm saving them, and they still call me scary."

You patted his arm, amused. "To be fair, you do have that whole 'gruff, intimidating presence' thing going on."

"They can't even see my face."

"No, but you could stop glaring at people like you're deciding their fate."

Mydei clicked his tongue and looked away. He totally did that.

Once you finished bandaging him, you leaned back with a satisfied grin. "There, all done. Now you can go back to swinging around the city like a menace."

"I'm not a menace."

"You also saved a kitten today and pet its head for like a whole minute."

"Shut up."

You beamed. Got him.

He sighed and leaned back, arms crossed, eyes scanning the ceiling as if contemplating the entire universe. This was the real Mydei. Not the scary, unapproachable figure everyone thought he was. This was your Mydei—the one who let you patch him up, who tolerated your teasing, who had a hidden love for cute things and a soft spot for you.

You nudged his leg with your foot. "Wanna watch something? I promise not to pick anything stupid."

"Liar."

"Okay, I promise not to pick something too stupid."

He huffed but didn’t object as you grabbed the remote. A victory. A small one, but still.

A few minutes passed before he moved again. This time, he didn’t just rest his arm around you—he practically wrapped himself around you, his strong arms locking you in place. His head buried into the crook of your neck, his breath warm against your skin.

You blinked. "Uh... Mydei?"

He mumbled something unintelligible but didn’t budge.

A small laugh bubbled up in your throat. Everyone called him a tiger, but for you, he was just a big, clingy cat.

"You're really comfy," he muttered, voice low, almost sheepish. "And warm."

Your heart did an embarrassing flip. How was this the same guy who scared half the city?

Smiling, you brought a hand up, gently running your fingers through his hair. "I swear, for someone with a scary reputation, you sure act like an oversized cat sometimes."

"Don't make it weird."

"Too late."

Mydei groaned but didn’t move an inch. If anything, he held you tighter.

Minutes passed, and you realized he wasn’t just holding you—he was trapping you. His arms were ridiculously strong, making escape impossible. Even shifting slightly earned you a grumble from where his face was buried in your neck.

"Uh, Mydei? I can’t move."

"Don’t need to."

You huffed. "Okay, but I kinda wanna grab the popcorn—"

"No."

You tried to wiggle an arm free. Failed. "Mydei, you're literally Spider-Man. You can reach it."

"Lazy."

"You're the one pinning me down!"

"Mhm."

He was completely content like this, muscles relaxed, warmth radiating from him as he clung to you like some oversized, stubborn cat refusing to let go of its favorite person.

Eventually, you gave up and sighed. "You better not fall asleep on me."

No response. Just the steady rhythm of his breathing, still wrapped around you like a human blanket.

You were about to tease him again, but the comfort of his warmth, the quiet hum of the movie playing in the background, and the steady rise and fall of his chest against yours started to lull you into drowsiness. His breath was slow, his hold secure, and before you knew it, your own eyelids grew heavy.

Sinking deeper into his embrace, you let sleep take over, your fingers still loosely tangled in his hair. Mydei shifted slightly, adjusting his grip just enough to bury his face even further into the crook of your neck, murmuring something inaudible in his sleep.

And just like that, you both drifted off—tangled together, warm, safe.

Mydei woke up first, groggy but comfortable. The first thing he noticed was you, still tucked under him, breathing softly in your sleep.

His golden eyes softened. He was heavy, practically draped over you like a living weighted blanket, yet you hadn’t pushed him away. You let him stay.

Carefully, he loosened his grip—just enough to scoop you up in his arms, moving with the silent ease of someone used to carrying people through the city.

You barely stirred as he lifted you, your face nuzzling against his chest instinctively.

Mydei sighed, pressing a quiet kiss to your forehead before walking toward your bedroom. But Just as Mydei tucked you into bed, his entire body tensed. A sharp, unmistakable sting prickled at the back of his neck—his spider-sense screaming.

His golden eyes snapped toward the window, instincts already kicking in. Something was happening.

In one swift motion, he pulled the blanket up over you, making sure you were comfortably settled. His fingers lingered for just a second—reluctant, but there was no time to hesitate. Duty called.

He turned, moving across the room with silent precision, already shrugging on his suit and golden metal claws. The familiar fabric clung to him like a second skin, his mask slipping over his face as he strode toward the window.

He turns his head to give you one last glance, before jumping out the window off to where his senses were taking him. . . . . .When he reached the scene, the first thing he saw was chaos. A messed-up road, broken stones, debris everywhere—

And a car on fire.

His eyes narrowed as he stepped forward, scanning the destruction. His gaze caught on something small lying among the rubble.

A Spiderman plushie?

Before he could react, an immense force slammed into him from the side, sending him flying—straight into the wall of a shop.

The impact rattled through Mydei’s ribs as he crashed into the shop’s wall, shattering the glass windows with the sheer force of the throw. Dust and debris clouded his vision, the ringing in his ears a dull reminder that he’d let his guard down. His fingers twitched around the small Spider-Man plushie he had picked up—what the hell was that doing here?

But before he could process it, a deep, guttural laugh rumbled from the cracked road ahead.

"Not so tough now, are ya, Spider?"

Mydei’s sharp golden eyes snapped up, locking onto the massive figure emerging from the wreckage. The guy was built like a wrecking ball—easily over seven feet tall, muscles bulging unnaturally under his torn clothes. His skin had a rough, almost stone-like texture, giving him an armored appearance. His face was twisted in a grin, eyes gleaming with the thrill of destruction.

Super strength. That explained the obliterated street. But Mydei had already noticed something else. The brute’s movements were sluggish—slow to adjust, slow to react. He had power, but speed? Weak.

Mydei cracked his neck, rolling his shoulders as he tossed the plushie aside.

“Alright, big guy,” he muttered, voice laced with sharp amusement, “You’re strong. I’ll give you that.” He bent his knees slightly, fingers twitching as he prepared to launch. “But let’s see how well you handle someone who actually knows how to fight.”

The brute snarled and charged, the ground trembling beneath his heavy steps. But Mydei was already moving.

WHIP—

A web shot out, latching onto the crumbling remains of a streetlight. In a heartbeat, Mydei launched himself into the air, narrowly avoiding the devastating punch that cratered the pavement where he had just stood. The mutant’s fist sunk into the concrete, struggling to pull it back out.

“Too slow.” Mydei’s voice rang from above.

The mutant barely had time to look up before Mydei came crashing down with a devastating kick to his jaw. The sheer force sent the brute stumbling back, cracks forming along his hardened skin.

"HRGH—!" The villain spat out something red—blood? A tooth? Who cared.

But Mydei didn’t stop.

He was already moving again, flipping midair, using another web to slingshot himself behind his opponent. Before the brute could react, Mydei landed a flurry of precise, brutal punches—each blow aimed at weak points. The ribs. The back of the knees. The joints. The guy was a tank, sure, but even tanks had weak spots.

The mutant roared in frustration, swinging wildly, trying to catch him. But Mydei was untouchable. Ducking. Weaving. Flipping. His movements were as fluid as water, never in the same place twice.

"You know," Mydei mused, narrowly avoiding a grab attempt, "for someone with that much muscle, you’d think you’d be better at actually landing a hit."

The brute’s eyes burned with rage. "STAND STILL!"

“No thanks.”

With that, Mydei shot a web at the mutant’s face—SPLAT!—effectively blinding him.

The villain roared, clawing at the sticky mess over his eyes. And that’s when Mydei saw his opening.

Launching forward, Mydei twisted midair and delivered a final, devastating roundhouse kick to the side of the mutant’s head. The sheer force sent him flying—his body crashing through a half-destroyed car before finally going still.

For a moment, silence.

Then, a groan. The brute twitched, clearly still conscious but dazed.

Mydei landed smoothly, rolling his shoulders. “You’re still awake? That’s impressive. Too bad it won’t last.”

With practiced ease, he shot out several webs, wrapping the mutant up tight against a broken lamppost. Struggle all he wanted, the brute wasn’t breaking out of that anytime soon.

The sirens were already wailing in the distance. Cops were on their way.

Mydei exhaled, finally relaxing his stance.

Then, he noticed it—the little Spider-Man plushie he had tossed aside earlier, lying near the wreckage.

“…Tch.” Without thinking, he picked it back up, dusting it off. He glanced at the unconscious villain, then at the mess around him.

“…Still gotta get back before she wakes up,” he muttered.

Just as Mydei swung through the city, a sudden, searing bolt of energy shot past him—so close he barely dodged in time. Someone was watching. Someone hidden.

Golden eyes narrowed. Fine. If they wanted to play this game—

He’d find them first.

The cowardly villain was a lanky figure wrapped in tattered cloth, his gaunt face shadowed by a hood. His power? Energy-based projectiles. He hid in the dark, firing shots from afar, never engaging in direct combat. He was weak up close—he knew it, Mydei knew it.

Which was why the villain always ran when things got too heated.

And tonight was no exception. As soon as Mydei got close, the villain turned tail, attempting to flee.

But before he could escape, a flying baseball bat shot through the air at an insane speed, striking him directly in the head with a sickening thud. The villain's body crumpled to the ground instantly.

Mydei's gaze snapped to where the bat had come from, and there you stood, arms crossed, glaring down at him from your apartment window with an expression of pure annoyed fury.

"Dear Spider-Man," you said, voice dripping with passive-aggressive venom, "if you're gonna fight, please try to be quiet and not interrupt people's sleep."

Mydei blinked. Then sighed. Oh god hes fucked . . . . . Mydei landed on your balcony with practiced ease, his mask still in place as he crouched, golden eyes watching you with a mix of guilt and amusement. You were still standing at the window, arms crossed, your glare sharp enough to cut through steel.

"I was handling it," he muttered, pulling off his mask.

"Yeah? Well, I handled it faster," you shot back, tilting your chin up. "And now my precious sleep is gone, all thanks to my dear superhero boyfriend who can’t keep it down."

He sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. "I’ll make it up to you."

You raised a skeptical brow. "Oh? How?"

Without another word, Mydei scooped you up effortlessly, pulling you into his arms before stepping inside.

"Mydei—! Put me down, you dramatic bastard, or what do you call phainon? yeah HKS."

He ignored you, carrying you over to the couch and gently setting you down before disappearing into the kitchen. A few minutes later, he returned, holding a warm cup of tea in one hand and your favorite snack in the other.

He placed them on the table in front of you before sitting on the floor down beside you.

"Accept my offering," he murmured against your thighs.

You huffed, trying to hold on to your grumpiness. But between the warmth of the tea, the comfort of his hold, and the way he was resting his on your lap like some overgrown cat, your resolve crumbled.

"...Fine," you grumbled, taking the tea. "But you still owe me for the lost sleep."

Mydei smirked. "I can think of a way." "Shut the fuck up mydei" But then an idea flashed in your mind as you gave him a cheeky smile.

Mydei eyed you suspiciously as you flashed him a devious smile, pulling something from behind your back. His sharp golden eyes narrowed when he saw the fabric in your hands—a pair of matching Hello Kitty pajamas.

"If you want to make it up to me," you cooed, holding up the ridiculously cute pink pajamas, "then put this on."

Mydei's expression went completely blank. He slowly blinked at you, then at the pajamas, then back at you again.

"No."

"Yes."

"No."

"Yes."

"I fight crime in the dead of night, swinging across the city, getting smashed into walls, and dealing with the most annoying villains imaginable—"

"And now you're putting on the Hello Kitty pajamas," you cut him off sweetly, pushing them into his chest.

Mydei sighed, running a hand down his face. He was a realist, a straightforward man who prided himself on logic and practicality. There was no practical reason for him to wear pink Hello Kitty pajamas.

And yet, ten minutes later, there he was.

Standing in your living room.

Wearing them.

And looking absolutely massive in the cutesy, oversized fabric.

You barely held in your laughter, eyes sparkling with mischief as you twirled around in your own matching set.

"This is blackmail material," Mydei muttered under his breath, crossing his arms as he towered over you, looking both dead inside and resigned to his fate.

"You look adorable," you chirped, hugging his arm.

He grumbled, ears slightly red, before pulling you into his arms like a hostage.

"If I'm doing this, we're doing this right. Movie day," he declared, dragging you onto the couch.

"Exactly! Now, go order snacks," you said, shoving your phone into his hands.

Mydei gave you a long, unamused stare.

"...You're really milking this, huh?"

"Absolutely."

He exhaled heavily but started placing the order anyway. Because, despite his protests, he was completely wrapped around your finger.

And unfortunately for him?

You knew it.

[taelophone]

Broken Ties

trigger warnings — groping . playful teasing . losing your bikini top to the sea . that’s it i think

event ۶ৎ taglist

“Wait, I think I'm gonna get in the water…I wanna cool off.”

Those were the final words from your mouth before you approached the normally tame waters of the salty blue ocean. The wet and watery woman of endless wonders and secrets decided that today, she didn’t want to be your friend anymore.

After years and years of surrounding each other— both literally and figuratively — the seafoam queen decided your bond meant little to nothing to her in favor of a good laugh.

What happened, might you ask? Shit, you don’t even know.

One moment you and Luigi were playing near the rocky, rough, and ragged rocks and boulders by the coastal line. Not deep enough to make you work for your playtime, but about as deep to where the cool water bathed your upper hip in its salted foams.

“Don’t run, you can’t run from it! There’s nowhere to go, pretty!” Luigi giggled, his muscles flexing and pulling as he splashed you mercilessly.

You squealed and giggled, covering your face with the backs of your wet palms. As you slowly backed away, you remained blissfully ignorant of the rock your spine had begun to press against.

Or at least ignorant to how it jostled and fidgeted with the golden clasp of your baby blue gingham bikini top.

“Okay, okay, truce! You win, hold on—!” You laughed, sliding down the rock to get away from the constant spray of bitter salt water that threatened to invade your eyelids.

“Wait, wait, wait, don’t crouch—!” Luigi urged, immediately reaching out his hand to pull you up to your feet.

You felt a wave of confusion wash over you, but nothing could’ve prepared you for the tidal wave that came crashing over the rocks, successfully knocking you off of your feet and flat on your ass.

The cool ocean swallowed you whole, her large palms covering your ears and filtering out all noise through a liquid-y mesh strainer. Your body felt lighter, your hair felt wilder, and you dared not open your thin little eyelids. 

What should have been the easy task of simply standing up felt considerably harder…and now that you think about it, why does your chest feel so cold—

Oh my fucking god. OH MY FFFUCKING. GOD.

Before you could process anything, Luigi had fished you up from the water, focusing his attention on making sure you were okay.

“I am so sorry, oh my god…Are you— hey, c’mon, face me, what’s wrong?” He asked, immediately trying to turn you around to face him.

Your hesitancy was strange, however, he stopped trying to turn you as soon as he caught sight of a familiar-looking swimsuit top escaping on a rogue wave.

“Oh, no way.”

“Luigi go die…” you groaned, cowering with your face to the rocks as you wrapped your arms around your chest in utter embarrassment.

Your face felt flush with fever, your pulse had quickened enough to power a small town, and the little giggles that formed into loud and almost pained laughter from Luigi did very little to help your case. Running after your top would only draw more attention to your half-naked figure, but at the same time, you didn’t want to lose your top to the sea.

As Luigi chortled and snorted on the sand, he crawled his way over to where you stood before he reeled his sanity and breathed back in.

“I am…so-ho-ho…sorry! That’s…oh god, that is so tragic…that is so fucking funny I’m so sorry,” he snickered, resting his surfboard on the rock next to you.

“Hold this. Use it to cover up for a bit, just, like, hold it in front of you,” he murmured with a series of light little giggles. “I’ll grab your top then we can go inside!”

You tried not to die inside as you nervously held the cool and damp polyurethane foam layered underneath the glossy resin against the front of your body, watching Luigi chase after the pretty bikini with an unserious smile on his face. When it came to carding through the water, Luigi was more efficient than any card dealer in any casino.

Admittedly the top was a little harder to find amongst the aquatic blue. It danced in unison with its doppelgänger, rising and falling with the salt and seafoam.

Thankfully, Luigi was a strong swimmer and was able to grab the bikini top before it got lost amongst the waves. When his palm closed around the bikini, he made quick work of bunching it up in his hands to hide what he was holding as he dragged his feet over to your spot.

“Here, lay on my board and I’ll carry you home,” he giggled, standing directly in front of you to shield your form from the public eye.

He picked the board up— taking you along with it — and held it high above his head so only the tallest of skywalkers could see what sleeping beauty rested atop the sleek polyester.

You giggled like a child as you pressed your front against the damp board. The sun beamed down on your cold and wet skin, slowly drying the beads of shiny saltwater on your spine as Luigi carried you back to the house.

The scene was very reminiscent of a beloved monarch being carried on a gold palanquin, the plush cushions supporting her royal essence and protecting her from the impurities of the world. Protected by her strong and sculpted surfer servant, whose main goal was to make sure his queen felt comfortable.

“Y’okay up there?” He called, the sound a little quiet over the crash of the waves and the chatter of wayward souls occupying the ivory sands.

“Mhm,” You purred, resting your head on the side of your forearm as the bright sunny scenery changed with every step Luigi took.

“Good,” he added, adjusting his grip on the sides of his board above his head, “Hope it’s not too bumpy…or maybe I do. That’d be funny to see.”

“Don’t be gross, Luigi,” you quipped, holding onto the surfboard for dear life as he made his way up the old and rickety oak steps of your front porch.

He chuckled, a brief sigh leaving him as he stood at the front door with his hands and arms above him like a madman.

“This is when you get off and run your little ass into the house. I can’t open the door, I’ll drop you.”

“Oh, god, I hate you…” you sighed, wrapping your arms over your chest as you hopped off his surfboard with a slight yelp.

Maybe next time, you’ll check how high up you are before jumping off the board.

“Don’t die, I need somewhere to stay during the summer… I am not staying in that stinky frat house,” he chuckled, watching as you charged through the front door as fast as you could.

He gave you some time to clear the front door before guiding his board through the front door, letting it crash against the sides of the door frame before leaning it against the wall. He expected you to be several steps off the stairs by now, rummaging through your closet.

But you stood by the fridge, searching for a bottle of water with a confused pout as you maintained what was left of your modesty with an arm.

“Are you serious, dude,” he sighed, standing in the middle of the dining room with his hands on his upper hips.

“Listen. Before I am half-naked, I am severely dehydrated. You’ve seen me before, close your eyes and admit homosexuality, or complain to God.”

He chuckled boyishly, crashing onto the soft couch cushions with a small huff. When you drank your fill of electrolytes, he watched you mosey upstairs.

“Take a Polaroid of them for me, I wanna keep it in my wallet!” He called, an impish smirk pulling at the corners of his mouth.

“Hell no, freak! That’s reserved for my boyfriend only!” You shouted back.

“Whaaaaaaat! Am I not your boyfriend? Evil.”

You chuckled, pulling out a hoodie from your closet—one that definitely belonged to the only male chromosome inhabiting your house. Bright orange with a yellow sunset in a funky font that read Hawai’i. Cute.

The soft yet disgustingly cheap polyester was a welcome change compared to your crisp bedroom air. Now all that was left was to shimmy into some comfortable sweatpants— preferably pink with a fuzzy little pattern — and head downstairs to have a warm cup of something.

“Stealing my laundry is crazy…” Luigi chuckled, setting himself down on your bed and stretching around in his soaked swim trunks.

“Oh my god, MOVE you pack animal!” You squealed, towel-whipping him with the pair of sweats in your hands.

“Ouch—okay, okay, damn!” He giggled, scurrying off of your bed immediately.

He made his way to the door, ready to exit your bedroom before pausing by the frame. He turned…so slowly it was almost annoying to watch.

His footsteps were heavy against the old wooden floor, the faintest creaks sounding from underneath him as he maneuvered in front of you.

“You look good. Sorry about your bikini. Hope I was able to help,” he smiled, smoothing his large hands over your hair affectionately before pecking your third eye.

“Oh thank you, you really did help a lot—“

You should’ve known he had something up his sleeve. When you felt his large palms squish your boobs from over your hoodie, your jaw came clattering to the floor in shock.

“NICHOLAS!!”

taglist ; @lorelaisg1lmore @flaca335 @7luvrs @fancyyanci @f4b111 @born444u @harrys0nlyange1 @lovelyfeeling @jenisaswift13

[yllwjktscult]

(Un)lucky- a blessing or a curse? pt.1/?. A yellowjackets fanfic

!!! disclaimer- english is NOT my native language so there for sure will be grammar mistakes!!!

edit: made a playlist for this fic so you can feel worse🥰🫶🏻 -> here

!!platonic yellowjackets x reader!! but! it MIGHT be romantic one later on, i still dont know if i want to make it romantic or nah (if yes it would be lottie x reader or lottienat x reader but fr i dunno yet)

WC: 4.8k

TW: depression, suicide thoughts, anxiety, psych institute, mention of selfharm, alcohol, drugs and overdose. In short, this whole ff is a TW itself. It is not a HAPPY fiction, at the end there might be happiness but not for the first few chapters:,) so if you are looking for a happy fic, LEAVE 😭 you have been warned sweetie🥹

AN: However if you STILL want to read this cause you are interested, i am putting a trigger warning to where the selfharm or overdose will be talked about, you can skip that part:] its not detailed, but it could trigger someone, so just in case it will be there.

Also! lmfao the drawing was made poorly at 3 am, but it fullfills the purpose of what i tried to describe and had in my mind soo, just dont look at it too much (its picture with a lots of lines so it would look like a drawing, i was so f lazy to actually draw the whole thing, i admit)

also i see this as 3-4 part story, but dunno yet, we will see🙂‍↕️

anyway enjoy this shitty fanfic🫶🏻

(Un)lucky to you, you couldnt go with yellowjackets, to go with them to nationals, due to getting a horrible flu 2 days before they were supposed to fly.

You werent on the team, but you were their "lucky charm" as they loved to call you. Each time you went to their game, they won.

They were your friends, close friends even.

Till this day you dont know if getting sick was a luck or curse.

Thats why you are now curled up in a ball in your bed in a psych ward institute, feeling empty and lonely after another electro shock therapy that you have been getting a lot lately.

A single tear fell down your face as you hugged your knees to your chest more.

You cant believe its been over a year since they were proclaimed dead and since your life took a turn upside down. When everything turned dark. Since you lost yourself. You still remember that day like it was yesterday, even tho its been a year since your breakdown and when the hell started. A loop you cant escape.

You closed your eyes as you curled up more into a ball, hugging your knees as you repeated "they are dead, they are dead" all over again. Thats what they have been telling you for months anyway, especially after electro shock therapy when you are the most vulnerable and easily to be manipulated during the few minutes after it.

╚══ ❀•°❀°•❀ ══╝

(flashback)

Its been a month since their plane got lost somewhere on their way to nationals.

You couldnt sleep, coulnt eat and were checking news every single moment you could. Hoping, no scratch that, you were WISHING to hear that they found them all alive and healthy. You felt in your heart that they are alive, you feel it..

You grabbed Lotties hoodie she lent you when you were cold one time on one of their games, its an ugly blue and yellow color, significant to your highschool (p1), but you were happy to wear it that time due to too being cold. You never returned it, and honestly you didnt even want to, its not like Lottie minded that. Nat gave you one of her old school team jacket (p2) too so you are warm, you were shivering like a chichuana that night because you just wore a tshirt and a flannel as you sat on bleachers cheering for them as you always did, they all laughed at your shivering state that time, but were smiling at you with pure adoration. Taissa gave you her beanie (p3) so you arent that cold.

They all adored you, you might have not been on the team, but sure they treated you like you were. After all, you all were friends and loved each other.

With a sad smile you put the hoodie on and as well the jacket, its raining today and you have this weird feeling inside of your chest, like anxiety and no matter how much you try to shake it off, you cant. You just shruggled it off, its probably the lack of sleep, stress, sadness and lack of energy in your body since you dont eat that much ever since they went missing. All you can focus is "what happened to them and where are they".

You wore Lotties hoodie and Nats jacket for the past month almost on daily basis as a form of comfort.

You couldnt check the news today like you always did before going to school due to being late, so with a quick motion you grabbed your backpack from the ground and went to school with this uncomfortable feeling in your chest, clinging onto the clothes of your lost friends, deep in your thoughts.

As you walked to school you could see some of you classmates giving you those sad looks you grow to get used to over the past month. Everyone in school knew how close you were to them. And everyone knew you didnt take the news well. But today, they were different, they felt different, they were filled with guilt and pity.

The weird feeling in your chest grew more intense the more you get closer, it felt like a gut feeling that something is wrong as you took steps closer to the school front door.

Hugging the jacket closer to your body as you went thru the front door and met with more looks like the ones outside. You knew something is not right.

"Everyone please meet im gym in 10 minutes" was heard from the announcement thru the reproductor from the principal office, she only uses this when theres something important. The uncomfortable feeling grew in extreme now, your chest tightening, your fingers getting cold, a lump in your throat forming in your chest and you are getting nauseous.

You didnt like this feeling, not at all. Its the same one you had, when you got caught cheating on your test in sixth grade.

As you sat on the gym bleachers in the front row due to being the only empty spaces avaible, everyone was whispering, but you couldnt make out what it was, you felt uncomfortable with all those stares.

"Hello everyone" said the principal into the microphone as the rest of the teachers stand next to her with sad eyes and serious expressions. And you knew something is not right.

"As most of you know, today, our beloved yellowjackets, coach Scott and coach Marinez with his sons and pilots were proclaimed dead after one month of intense searching of their missing plane" the principal said with a sad tone as she looked around.

Your heart stopped, your whole body freezing at her words. Your breath stoping mid breath take. You couldnt believe what you were hearing. No, they are not dead. They cant be. They are alive.

You feel them. You still feel the connection.

You stand from your seat "w-what? n-no they cant be dead, they are NOT dead" you said with a shaky voice snd disbelief written all over your face as you looked at the principal ignoring the sad pity expression of your classmates and teachers "t-they are NOT dead. I- I can feel them" you pointed at your heart "t-they are not dead" you repeated. "They cant be dead" you whispered as your eyes filled with tears and the feeling that you had since morning overtaking your body completely.

The principal looked at you with sad expression and said into a microphone "i know its hard to believe, but they proclaimed them dead an hour ago sweetie. Im so sorry, i know they were your best friends" she finished with a sad smile looking at you.

Your whole world stopped and started spiralling when the news set in .

You could feel your heart pounding in your ears, a slow heartbeat. A ringing in your ears grow higher. Coldness going thru your body, fingertips being ice cold and knees growing weak.

The uncomfortable feeling in your chest grew to a point you could feel it in your veins as you started hypervilating. All those memories of your friends filling your brain, all those moments you laughed, moments you shared, moments of when you were just happy filling your brain as tears starts to roll down your face as you repeated "no" all over again and before you even knew it, you fall down on your knees with shaky hands clutching the jacket that you wore and belonged to Nat like your life depended on it as you rocked yourself back and forth on your knees.

You didnt know that you were having a breakdown. You didnt know that this moment was your last day of peace.

A last day, when you were you.

You didnt know you fell into a psychosis that will last a for months.

Before you knew it, the principal went from the stage with other teachers right next to you, trying to calm you down even when they were panicking inside, but it didnt work out, they couldnt help you to calm down, so they called an ambulance that took you to hospital, where you got sedatives and stayed a day and night in there.

The next 2 months were in blur, you were either drunk or high on drugs. Constantly out of your mind. Running from your thoughts, hallucinations and feelings. You barely spoke to anyone, unless it was someone who gave you drugs or someone who would bought you alcohol. When you were in school, you were barely present, you were physically there, but mentally you were somewhere else. Your grades dropped drastically, but you could care less. The pain and emptiness was just too much for you to bear, so you drowned them in alcohol, drugs and sleepless nights you sometimes shared with strangers who offered you those things you couldnt get due to being underage in exchange of funny business with them. You didnt care anymore so you did it. Even tho you hated it. But thats what you deserved, you thought. You deserved to hate yourself.

You did everything you could to stop the empty feeling in your chest. The feeling of missing your friends. The guilt of being alive when they are not. The guilt of not being able to do anything about it. The guilt to be able to breathe and live your life when they cant. You knew they were alive, you KNEW it. You feel it. You still feel them. Even after 3 months since they went missing. You felt it in your heart and gut, that they are alive.

As you left the bed of one of the guys from college you met just 3 hours ago and dont even remember his name, the one who bought you alcohol and drugs. You grabbed Lotties hoodie that you wear basically on daily basis now from the ground and put your jeans back on yourself and you left his room.

!! (tw:mention of selfharm and overdose) !!

When you got home, you felt all those feelings again. The alcohol and drugs are not enough anymore. They last just for a few hours now. They last few hours before you start seeing them again, or randomly hearing them calling you, telling you they are alive.

The things that helped you escape for the last 3 months are not enough anymore.

As you sit on your bed, looking into nothing, completely wasted, tired, helpless, lost and just done with pretending everything is okay. You looked to your left, knowing the razor is there, you put it under your book to hide it from your parents.

You standed up, took the book into your hand, looking at the shiny razor that the moon was shining at, making it more pleasant and beautiful than any other days.

You gently grabbed it in between your fingers and putting the book into its previous position.

Sitting back into your bed, playing with the razor in your hands, thinking whether you should do it or no.

You knew it would be an escape. You could be with your friends again if you just did it.

You wanted to do it so badly. You wanted the pain to stop forever, you wanted to be free from all of it, and not just for a few hours.

But you couldnt, the feeling in your gut telling you that they are still alive is still there.

With a sigh and one swift move, lotties hoodie is off your body, making you sit on your bed just in your bra and jeans.

You looked at your body, seeing all those old and new scars and cuts you made over the last 2 months. You were punishing yourself.

Only if you werent sick you could have been with them. Either dead, but with them or whenever the hell are they now. With tears in your eyes you cut yourself again and again and again, until your brain was satisfied with it, like you did in the past few weeks. Making a slight relieve from the mental pain with a physical one.

This wasnt the moment that lead you to psych ward where you were for over a year.

No.

It was your overdose that happened few weeks after this.

You overdosed accidentally at a party few weeks later and you were so close to the end of the misery, but (un)lucky to you, someone called an ambulance on the party you sneaked with the same guy from college.

You woke up the next day in hospital, where your parents were with you. Your mother crying as she held your hand waiting for you to wake up snd your father with stoic face snd guilt snd hurt flashing in his eyes.

Unknown to you, your parents were informed about your cuts and scars all over your body that you were hiding. And even all the drugs and other things in your system.

(end of mentioned selfharm and overdose)

That day, your father decided you are going into a psych ward. They both saw how their child is destroying herself in front of their eyes. They both knew you were hurting, still believing your friends are alive. You told them few times you randomly saw them, talked to them or even felt them. But they werent here.

It was just your brain playing tricks.

(end of flashback)

╚══ ❀•°❀°•❀ ══╝

And thats where you are now, 19 months after the plane crashed. In a psych ward, because your life ended the day your friends were proclaimed dead.

Dead without you being able to tell them you loved them. Without hugging them last time. Without seeing their faces one more time.

After months of therapy, after multiple shock therapy and other tortuous ways you rather forgot. You started believing they are indeed dead. Its been couple of weeks since you gave up. Since you, for the first time being locked here, told your therapist 'they are dead' in defeated voice as you started believing.

Knowing you will never get a closure of what happened to them. The plane was never found, their bodies were never found. There still was a chance, but then again, its been 19 months..

They are dead.

You accepted it.

You accepted, that they are never coming back. That your friends are never coming back.

That you will never see their faces again.

You will never tell Lottie you liked her more than a best friend should.

You will never listen to your favourite bands new music with Natalie as you always did.

Never tell a new joke to Van.

Never ask Jackie for her opinion about clothes.

Never show your drawings to Shauna.

Never talk about your random thoughts with Misty.

Never talk about your new view of bible with Laura Lee.

Never ask about opinion to Taissa when you needed her to give you a realistic point of view.

And never hear a sarcastic remark from Mari again..

You were officially defeated. You accepted that they are gone and as well your old self.

You accepted all of that few weeks ago in a therapy session, you were forced to say it out loud, write it and say each girls name with "x is dead and never coming back. She died in a plane crash'.

╚══ ❀•°❀°•❀ ══╝

Now you are sitting in a common area, drawing as you listen to the television news. Not paying attention to it at all. You felt dead inside, empty and defeated. You were sketching, feeling a little happy that you were allowed to do that again.

You werent allowed near anything that could cause you harm unless you were under vision of someone, usually your therapist or a guard.

You didnt know what privacy is at this point.

You grew attached to one of the guards in here. Her name is Martha, a 50 year old lady who was sweet to you.

She, even tho she shouldnt, after almost every electro shock therapy you got and was there, went to your room and was with you until you fell asleep, rubbing your back, telling you random stories and sometimes sneaked a lollipop to you.

Life sucked, but Martha was shoving sympathy and giving you comfort you havent felt in months. She knew why you are here. She was there the whole time of your stay in the psych ward.

You didnt talk to anyone.

After your overdose you went kind of nonverbal.

Barely speaking.

You still dont talk that much.

You dont want to talk, you lost your will and has no desire to talk. But with Martha, you sometimes talk.

"Breaking news the girl soccer team Yellowjackets that went missing 19 months ago was found alive. They were found in canadian wilderness in critical condition. Only few of them survived"

The voice of the guy in the news cathed your attention as you eyes shot back into the screen of the television from your sketch book.

He was at the airpot and you saw few of them walking out of the plane. A very small amount of people wearing black hoodies over their heads as security hid them from paparazzi and cameras.

You looked at Martha with wide eyes, shaky hands and Martha looked at you with pure shock and panic from across the room as she started walking to you. She knew you will not take that well.

"d-did you see that t-too or im going crazy again?" you asked above whisper with a shaky voice as you started panicking inside, tears filling your eyes as you started breaking the pencil in your grip as you looked at Marthas face with tears.

You were getting better, you havent had a hallucinations in months. You havent seen their faces for months. You thought you were getting better..

Martha pulled you into a hug and started rubbing your back, holding you tightly, trying to calm you down, not wanting you to go into a psychosis again or getting a breakdown or hurting yourself again (you were put on a suicide watch couple of time during the few months there, thats why you werent allowed to be near anything sharp).

"yes i did, you are not crazy sweetheart. You were right the whole time" she held you close to her chest as she whispered with panic and disbelief in her face that you couldnt see as other guards ran to you both.

Same expression on their faces.

But they knew the protocol, they knew that they had to sedate you in order to calm you down.

The whole personal knew about you. After all, you were the youngest patient in here. They knew why you were here and they all saw you how defeated you were for weeks now.

How broken you become.

You were still alive but dead inside. You were a walking corpse for weeks after you admitted that your friends are dead. You became the last problematic patient here. You did ehat you were told, you didnt argue, you didnt fight, and you took your medication without any tricks (for a few months there you didnt take it, you kept it hidden in your mouth or throw it up afterwards). They were seeing your hope/life leave your body completely.

Which made some of them heart break. When you first got there, you were snappy. You used to talk in your room to yourself, saying the girls name, pretending like they are here (you saw them, due to hallucination), you were fighting against the guards when they had to take you to electro shock therapy. You were fighting with therapist and telling everyone that they are alive for months. So seeing you so defeated and so broken made some of them feel bad. They knew the things they had to do, they knew that some of the treatment wasnt even legal, but they HAD to go thru the protocol. After all, this was the most prestigious psych ward near Wiskayok.

The guards look at Martha and she looked at them as she held you closer 'im so sorry sweetie, you know we need to' all you could do is just to nod, you were done fighting back. After all they all just did their job and you needed to feel calm, knowing you would crash out if you didnt get that sedatives, so you cling to Martha and closing your eyes.

Wanting this feeling to go away.

They were dead. They were dead and you didnt hallucinate them for months, so why now?

One of the guards put the syringe with sedatives into your shoulder whispering a silent sorry.

You woke up in your bed, chained down. With a sigh as you knew why. Martha and you talked a lot. Well, technically she talked and you listened and sometimes answered or asked a question. She told you, that if theres a huge trigger for a patient and it gets triggered, theres a protocol they need to follow. They sedate the patient and meanwhile they are out, they chain them into their bed, so they wouldnt hurt themselves or others.

"oh my sweet girl" Marthas sweet voice breaks your thoughts as you look at her with this hollow look you keep giving everyone for weeks. Martha sits next to your bed as she holds your cheek, rubbing it gently as her eyes are filled with tears.

"you were right the whole time" she smiles at you "you were never crazy, my poor little girl" a single tear falls down her cheek.

You hated seeing her like this, so with a horsed voice you answered her which made her heart swell even more.

"no i was not, they were dead. They are dead. They died when the plane crashed"

you said with empty eyes.

"but they found them, they are ali-" Martha couldnt finish the sentence because you cut her off.

"No Martha, they are dead. They dont exist anymore. They died 19 moths ago"

Martha just nodded before she was called somewhere else. Leaving you all alone, chained to your bed.

You were telling the truth tho. They died. They are dead. Those girls are not the same ones you once knew. They are different people. Even if they survived, they are dead. Same as you. Even tho, you are breathing. You died the day when they were proclaimed dead 18 months ago a month after they dissapiered.

All you could feel was nothing. After all those electro shocks you went thru, all those horrible treatments, and all those medicaments you started taking, you lost all your emotions. All you could feel is emptiness, a hollow hole inside your chest. You mourned them and gave them your goodbye weeks ago, or even months ago now. You dont know how long its been.

You dont even feel happy that you were right about them being alive the whole time. You dont feel anything really. You just laid in the bed like a lifeless body, staring into nothing. With this empty feeling in your chest you have had for months now.

╚══ ❀•°❀°•❀ ══╝

Couple weeks later, you were sketching in your sketchbook again with Martha by your side as you both sat at a table, your legs criss crossed, wearing the ugly psych ward white clothes you have on yourself for more than a year now. You havent spoke a word for weeks now. Last time you did speak, was like 2 days after the news in television, asking Martha to tell you who were the survivors.

When she told you it was Lottie, Nat, Taissa, Van, Misty, Travis and Shauna all you did was just nod.

You are sketching in your book with this empty look in your face you have had for months. Martha sitting by your side watching you.

You enjoy her company a lot, she provides you comfort in some way. Sometimes you wonder if your paths would cross if it wasnt for you being a patient in a psych ward she works for. But who knows.

That was before Martha looked in front of her, where standed Lottie in her outside clothes with two guards by her side.

Marthas eyes widen and looked at you in panic.

Lottie sat next to you on a chair. Her heart breaking at the sigh of you, still not noticing her presence yet. You looked empty inside.

Unknown to you, after few weeks after they got rescued, each one of them asked about you after they got more comfortable to get back into society. They wondered why you havent reached out to them. Why you havent showed up. It was so unlike you and it made them wonder. After they all were done with doctors and therapy sessions. Their parents told them what happened to you (Lottie told Nat). They told them how you had a crash out, overdosed on drugs and got put into a psych ward where you have been staying for over a year.

Lottie asked her father for more details, demanding to know where you are. All of them wanted to know your current situation.

So when Lottie found from her father and read your file, she told everyone. They all couldnt believe that their friend, who was so full of life, their "sunshine" their "lucky charm" and someone who brought so much comfort and love, ended up like this. They all read the file. Their heart breaking at the details of it.

They all wanted to visit you, but they didnt want to make your situation worse. They all wanted to hug you, they all wanted to tell you how much they missed you, how they thought of you during the 19 months out there and how much it meant to them, that you didnt give up on them being alive. They just wanted to give you the love you always gave them. But they knew, they cant do that, yet.

So thats why Lottie is now sitting next to you, staring at you with this face you grew so familiar with in here. A look of guilt, pity and sadness.

Martha still didnt say anything, she was just staring at you and Lottie. The guards were near and ready to jump if it was needed.

"hey.." said Lottie quietly, her heart breaking at the sigh of you. You looked so broken, you looked like a child. So innocent snd so broken. Your eyes were empty, your face emotionless as you drew into your sketchbook.

"hey" you said quietly without looking at her as you continued to draw.

"whatchu drawing" Lottie asked gently as she looked at the drawing. She wanted to say so much, she wanted to hug you so badly, but she was informed by the psych crew to not do that.

Without a word you pulled the sketchbook to her, showing her the drawing as you finally looked at her.

And Lotties heart broke even more. Your beautiful eyes that once held so much life and love, were now empty, filled with pain and sadness. The dark circles under your eyes and visible weight loss since the last time she saw you broke her heart and it took everything in her not to pull you into a thigh hug.

"its beautiful" Lottie said with shaking voice as she tried not to cry as she looked at the drawing and then at you again.

Martha put a hand on your shoulder

"Sweetheart, its time for your pills" she said gently, rubbing her hand on your shoulder.

You looked at her "okay" you answered her quietly, as your grabbed your sketchbook and standed up, looking at Lottie with this empty eyes of yours. You thought for a moment before you ripped the page and gave it to her.

"You liked it maam, keep it" you said before you started walking away to where you get the pills. Leaving Lottie flabbergasted, confused and heartbroken with Martha and the one of the guards leaving right behind you, just in case. And the other one staying to escort Lottie back.

Lottie looked at the drawing and heart swelling, until Martha broke the silence. Putting a hand on her shoulder.

"Im so sorry sweetie, she does not recognise you. You dont look like the way she remembers you. She thinks you are a stranger" Martha says with a gentle voice and Lottie has to keep everything in her to not cry.

"how?" Lottie asks above a whisper as she looks at the drawing thats in her hands.

"its probably all the electro shocks she went thru sweetie, it fucked her brain and memory. She does not even remember her favourite color" Martha says sadly with a gentle tone as she rubs her thumb over her shoulder. Trying to comfort Lottie as much as she can.

After Lottie leaves the psych ward, the rest is waiting outside for Lottie. When they see Lotties state, they knew it went badly.

"how is she?" asked Misty hopefully even tho she knew its probably a stupid thing to ask, she read your file, they all did.

Lottie without a word runs and hugs Nat tightly and cries into her shoulder "she does not remember me, she didnt recognised me at all. She called me maam" Lottie sobs into Nats shoulder.

Everyone gets quiet at that, letting the words set in.

"w-what do you mean?" Taissa asks with a tone that cant be even identified.

"T-they said its the electroshocks, that they fucked her brain and memory. She doesnt even know her favourite color" Lottie wipes her tears and hands them the drawing.

They all feel sad as they sees it.

Its a drawing, a detailed one. Its a memory of you all, well, technically a picture you took with your camera of the memory. It was after one of the games they won. Their faces were blurred out, but they all could tell which one was who, the faces might be smuggled, but they knew it was them (p4). It was identical to that photo.

"oh god.." Van puts a hand over her mouth, looking up to the sky as she tries not to cry.

Nat eyes fills with tears and her mouth slightly open. Shauna is looking at the picture with every emotion going thru her head and Taissa and Misty are loss of words.

(to be continued...)

the drawing:

(just try and pretend its good okay?😭 i tried my best for it to look like a drawing)

tagging as i promised when i will post it, so you dont miss it @priyajoyy @zhivaxo 🫶🏻

(if you like the story and will not want to miss the next one let me know ill do a tag list:] )

Please remember this is a fiction and its just pure imagination of my sick mind (so some things will not be 100% correct to the original yllwjks story and as well some of the things i will write in this story, aka how psych ward works, i have never been in one as a patient, however i did visit one, so its not 100% accurate, so keep it in mind🫶🏻)

i just hope you enjoyed my sad ass writting (it will get worse)

[metalmiez]

Dancing at the Ritz

Their eyes met; the angel grinned, and the demon’s face went all pink and flustered. Aziraphale laughed, from the bottom of her heart, let herself fall backward, because she knew Crowley would never drop her. His left arm was wrapped around her waist, holding her tightly. He bowed into her motion, his warm breath caressing her neck. Out of breath, she let herself pull back up, still giggling and noticed the most beautiful smile on Crowley’s face, more genuine than ever before. He enjoyed that dance a lot. Their faces were so close now that their noses almost touched, chest to chest, both breathing hard. She couldn’t recall when she had been working out this physically before. Her face felt like it was on fire, warmth crept though her whole corporation and Aziraphale had the indistinct feeling that she should float. She felt so happy.   Her arm was wrapped around Crowley’s shoulders, and he held her tightly. He was such a beautiful thing, and this smile made him look even more stunning, starfire burning in these gorgeous golden eyes.

Title: Dancing at the Ritz

Rating: Teen and up

Summary:

London, 1945. The war is over. Humanity rejoyces. There is a big party at the Ritz. And Crowley got his infernal hands on two tickets. It is time for a date clandestine meeting. Aziraphale waits with a surprise of his own...

Whew. Welcome back! It has been a good 9 months since I posted my oneshot "Hat Swap" (which I highly recomment you to read before you start this one <3). It has been a while. But this story never left me.

There was something to it I can't describe. I just loooove them in the 1940s. Actually, shortly after I posted Hat Swap in June 2024, I started to write this "little" sequel (she laughs, while she looks at the 10k words). It had A LOT of time to simmer. And I already have an idea for a Part 3. So it has become an official Series now <3 I hope you love this fic and this drawing as much as I do <3

[underastarrysky]

A little excerpt I wrote abt this scene!

PLEASE ALSO listen to this song while reading this

The moonlight painted the waterfall in silver ribbons, turning the cascading water into liquid starlight. The soft roar of the falls filled the night, but it did nothing to drown out the laughter spilling from Silvia’s lips. Her damp hair clung to her cheeks, and her dress was heavy with water, but she didn’t care. The impromptu dive into the pool below the falls had been her idea, and she could still feel the rush of cold against her skin, a stark contrast to the warmth that lingered in Tamlin’s eyes.

She paddled backward with a teasing grin. “You’re slower than I expected, High Lord.”

Tamlin let out a low chuckle before surging through the water with a powerful stroke. Before Silvia could blink, his hands were on her waist, lifting her from the water with ease. She gasped, laughing, as he cradled her in his arms, droplets glimmering on their skin in the moon’s light.

Her arms instinctively curled around his neck, but when she glanced up, the mischief in her eyes faltered. His gaze was no longer playful—it was searching, golden-green and vulnerable, as if he were seeing her for the first time. Her fingers tightened slightly at the nape of his neck, and she felt the tremor in his grip as he held her.

Neither spoke. The space between them, once filled with banter and camaraderie, now stretched thin with unspoken words. She could feel his heartbeat against her chest—steady, but quickening. His thumb traced the curve of her hip, barely noticeable, yet her skin prickled with awareness.

Her breath caught. This is Tamlin, she thought. The broken, scarred High Lord she had come to admire. She had spent months helping him piece the shattered remnants of his court back together, and somewhere in the process, she had unknowingly begun piecing him back together too. And now—now he was looking at her like she was the one thing keeping him whole.

“Silvia,” he murmured, his voice hoarse, almost reverent.

Her name on his lips sent a shiver down her spine. She tilted her head ever so slightly, and her eyes dropped to his mouth. His arms tightened fractionally, drawing her closer. She felt his breath against her lips, and then—his mouth brushed hers.

It was hesitant at first, a question lingering in the touch. But the second she leaned in, pressing her lips fully to his, his restraint snapped. The kiss deepened, slow and searing, their shared longing unfurling between them. His fingers splayed against her back, holding her as if he would never let go.

When they finally pulled apart, she let out a soft, shaky breath. He rested his forehead against hers, his eyes half-lidded, but blazing with emotion.

“I—I didn’t know you felt—” she started, her voice barely above a whisper.

His thumb brushed against her cheek, silencing her. “I didn’t know either,” he admitted. “But I do. I do.”

And when she smiled—breathtaking and radiant—he knew, without question, that he was no longer lost. He was home.

commission for @underastarrysky

close up🙂‍↕️ because tumblr likes to chop quality

her very lovely oc silvia with tamlin 😔🤲❤, i live for tamlin loving ocs, thank you again for commissioning me 🫶

[clearancecreedwatersurvival]

3.5 tel’aran’rhiod liveblog!!!

Oh this opening scene with sakarnen is interesting. Showing how a channeler feels the ecstasy of the power and the need to draw more, and also how using such a dangerous and powerful sa’angreal is walking a knife’s edge

LOVE this bit of aviendha being catty about rand and Melaine firing back at her, aviendha you’re really in it now

oh that was not how I thought alcair was pronounced

AIEL POLYAMORY TIME

OH MY GOD OH MY GOD FIRST SISTER MARRIAGE REAL CONFIRMED????

RAND CLAIMING THE TITLE OF CAR’A’CARN AND HAVING A CUTE MOMENT WITH A AIEL KID IM GONNA DIE

siuan having a moment with Moiraine’s letter ashcksafbka

OH SHIT ELAIDA SIUAN CONVO

FUCK THIS IS TENSE

Oh my god this verin siuan leane scene………

AH YIS BAIN AND CHIAD SPRINTING AHEAD OF A HORSE I LOVE TO SEE IT

the avirand vibes……..polyamory discussions……..oh yes

OBSESSED WITH THEM AVIENDHA IS SO FUNNY THIS EPISODE

Ohhhh lan and Moiraine having more tensions

EGWENE PUTTING ON HER AMYRLIN REGALIA FROM THE ARCHES AS INSTINCTUAL ARMOR I’M GONNA LOSE IT

ooooh I like how they’re doing the people briefly touching TAR

OH FUCK LANFEAR OH FUCK

Alviariiiiiiiiiin

omg Elaida telling that accepted off

WHAT THE FUCK VERIN ‘my sister can do anything’

Nynaeve being seasick, exactly as she should be

Can’t wait to add min to this tense little dynamic

‘That’s only because she didn’t want Nynaeve to throw herself overboard’ *nynaeve clearly considering it* ‘is that an option?’

Elayne having to wrangle mat by herself cause Nynaeve is out of commission, rip

Sea folk tiiiiiiime!!!

Mat: Min pleaaaaase rescue me from elayne and Nynaeve

Dain Bornhold still trying to be a decent person and keeping Velda from torturing the girls

CAUTHON SISTER CHANNELING MOMENT

oh Jesus Christ natti

I take it back Dain you rat bastard

FAILE I LOVE YOUUUUU

Bain and Chiad love her too

Alanna girlie are you being a bit reckless perhaps??

Oooh Alanna Maksim drama OH SHIT HARSH

Alanna on a hunt for more warders hmmm??? Oh and for channelers too.

Maksim sweetie you are such a sadsack rn. Like I get it but. I think you’re missing the point of the whole warder bond thing my guy.

If Maksim does leave now he can’t make it through the ways alone so he’s just gonna spend like 3 months riding slowly across the continent towards…where exactly. He doesn’t know she went to tanchico.

Lan getting to reconnect to malkier again!!!! We haven’t had much of this since s1 I’m delighted.

Oh now it’s Rand Egwene angst time I see

Moiraine honey put the orb away that is so dangerous!!!!

“I won’t be at the last battle” come again???????

If Ian starts crying I am also going to cry

OOSQUAI MENTION

Ooh they’re getting to laugh together :))))) I’m sure this isn’t setting up for emotional devastation later :))))))))))))))

I love mat and min SO much

OH GOD MAT ANGST

NOOOOOO STOP WITH THE SUICIDE JOKES MATRIM

Elayne windfinder moment??????

I love including Nynaeve the former wisdom in this conversation about alternative ways to be a channeler than through the aes sedai

ELAYNE MEETING MIN!!!!!!

Min part of the gang finally :’)

lmaooooo they’re giving the port of Tanchico full on pirate movie vibes

OH MY GOD THIS ELAIDA SCENE WHAT THE FUCK WHAT THE FUCK

Is she bypassing the oaths with the bracelet?????? Or does a black ajah member count under the accepted use of the power against shadowspawn??????

Siuan healing elaida is a fun choice here

NOOOOO DEAD WOLVES!!!!!

oh Jesus Christ Alanna is in DANGER

Faile backing up Perrin immediately it’s battle couple tiiiiiiime

DID THEY KILL NATTI CAUTHON HOLY FUCKING SHIT

ALANNAAAAAAAAAAA

oh my god that’s a lot of arrows

OH SHIT I KNOW THIS MUSICAL CUE LET’S FUCKING GOOOOOOOOO GET HIS ASS PERRIN

Faile 1v2ing whitecloaks while Perrin gets stabbed by a single guy doncowdfhsdofnsdofdsv

JK 1v3 Faile my beloved <3333333333

THANK YOU MAKSIM FINALLY

Rand sweetheart she is playing youuuuuuu

Starting the episode with aviendha explaining ethical polyamory, and now rand cheating on egwene in tar with Lanfear. My guy.

Bair and Melaine: egwene don’t go in tar again without permission. Egwene twenty minutes later: about that

Angsty fishwives reunion scene….i love it……

Oh damn I’m about to cry about this actually shit

CAN’T BE MENDED NOT IN THIS LIFE YELLING ABOUT ITTTTTTTTT

Csdbvksdvbdskvbadkcadkvdabvdavda

Egwene outside the hut like maybe I’ll give them some privacy and wander off to endanger myself some more.

Nynaeve dreaming about her arches vision daughter AH

ELAYNE WINDFINDER AVILAYNE FANTASY I LOVE ITTTTTTT AHHHHHHHHHHHH

Mat dreaming about his sisters and mom in the episode where their mom just died I’m gonna throw up!!!!!!!!!!

Hi this dream sequence is fucking killing meeeeeeeeeee

PERRIN AND HOPPER FUCK

Egwene sees Faile and she’s like: ‘Perrin got a new girlfriend???? Good for him!’

EGWENE CATCHING HIM CHEATING IN DREAMS HOLY SHIT

oh my god what a fucking cliffhanger!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[hoiststowline]

_bluestreak x reader

"You would tell me if something was wrong, right?"

proposed to ease your nerves, though it only was accepted as a opportunity to deny it even more, kept willingly under lock and key. it was uncomplicated to draw up a facade, if it could even be defined as such. to feel so effortlessly at peace in someones presence was more than enough of a problem solver, if only momentarily. not a permanent solution, but one could pretend as long as they'd have your poor company.

"I'm fine," you insist, as an awkward smile appears, though transparent to see the candor within your expression.

"Yeah, and you just avoided the question." bluestreak counters, indisputably seeing directly through your horrible front.

owlishly blinking, you pause, searching to remember just what he'd asked. "What do you mean?"

"You can say you're good all you want, I'll listen even if I don't agree. But if there really was something upsetting you, you would tell me, wouldn’t you?" he’s being somewhat pushy, aware of his building forwardness, yet there’s something just below the surface to be uprooted here. bluestreak can see it well in your eyes, a shred of glassiness that returns when you fall silent amongst conversation.

every so often, you cast a glance to his mirror, as if to display that you were listening and not avoiding such a parley. it was only adding to his unease, recalling the approach of not meeting someones eyes when not speaking the truth. it didn't happen often, not at all, he can properly recall one time before this and that was over something so trivial that he laughed out loud afterwards.

it's a tactic he's familiar with, it's not just adhered only to organic psychology. cybertronians do it as well, bad liars even more than the average tearaway. bluestreak's no stranger to your mannerisms, but this one remains foreign enough to question, troubled regarding your sham of a show of being 'fine'.

“I…would, yes.” carefully considering your choice of words, molars find the inside of your cheek to lamely bite down.

bluestreak doesn't immediately reply, perhaps thinking you would let go of a little more information than that. silence overcomes the cabin, and for the first time it's uncomfortable, shoulders dropping from your ears after you've realized how tense you had been.

hoping you’ve dodged a bullet, you move to redirect the discussion with half-parted lips, anything else but this on the tip of your tongue.

never quite far from where it consumes you whole, you freeze at his next question.

“You swear?”

now contiguously locking gazes with the mirror, there was no amount of guilt that could sway you to lie, even if you couldn’t presently see his face. while every temptation begged you to let this one die here, to escape such an interrogation, it would be in vain. the end result would be irreparable damage, bending an unspoken promise about honesty and trust that you knew were very important to bluestreak.

as if he read your mind, bluestreak’s dashboard crackles with frustration, immense concern and worry piling within his chassis. “So why are you lying?”

he’s right. bluestreak has been right for the past hour, gently nudging you to try and spill whatever had you trapped like a vise.

your behavior was helping nobody.

“I’m not lying,” you try, to which he returns a grumbled thrum. “Bending the truth a bit, sure.”

“That’s not funny, if it’s supposed to be a joke,” he replies, to which you turn toward the window at the passenger seat, drawing your knees to your chest.

eyes going mildly wide, you then immediately spin back toward the dashboard. “You just passed my street.”

“Oops.” is all he says, more of a deadpan than a jest.

if you thought for one second that he was going to drop you off and let this go, you were sorely mistaken. how could he in good conscience? especially since you’ve just admitted that something was a amiss, why would he give you proper route to dodge the exchange any longer?

swallowing thickly, you dare to ask the question you already know the return to. “Are you going to circle back or...?"

"No," bluestreak answers, moving back toward more local roads. "I'm good, thanks."

you can feel a sensation of melancholy rise to your chest, so proudly even after you'd done the absolute most to keep it at bay. it didn't feel good to unload your problems to the next person when they didn't deserve it, in particular bluestreak.

"Let's try this again,"

you go to object, but he promptly continues. "Sorry, I don't take suggestions for the topic at the present, but you're welcome to complain about it later."

he wasn't trying to be comical, but delivery was more witty than he had originally calculated. what bluestreak didn't expect was for you to laugh, softly at first before riling up into a full blown fit.

he gives you a moment to recover, but you don't extend any sort of explanation concerning it.

"What?" he rumbles, a breath of a laugh within his words as well. "What did I say?"

"You're just...really funny," you hum, relaxing a bit back into the leather of the seat. "Okay, fine. Promise you'll take me home if I tell?"

bluestreak pretends to mull it over, but it only takes three seconds to sputter out his reply. "I'm not ready for you to go home just yet. So maybe a few more laps around town after you spill?"

"Deal." using your hand, you wipe away some of the happy tears that had gathered on the rim of your eyes.

[polyjacketpockets]

little jackie hcs

pre-crash canon compliant headcanons

tags: sfw agere, boyre, autism agere, hints of petre, masking, comphet, agere jackie, she/he pronouns, caregiver shauna

tws: mommy issues & implications of addiction

childhood

jacqueline taylor is her mother's doll, trussed up into girlish dresses. growing up, she learnt quickly to bend to her mother's whims with a smile. arguing just made things worse, there was no point, especially when her mother had too many uppers/wine and got hysterical.

going over to the shipmans jackie was always jealous of the amount of freedom shauna's mom gave her. shauna was allowed to wear boys clothes, bring in wriggly worms and she got barely a scolding for drawing scary pictures. it wasn't fair! jackie often told shauna off for acting bad bc someone had to!

jacqueline grew up going to country clubs filled with gossip. every move, every outfit was analysed, beauty and purity was a necessity of being loved. slipping up was a one-way ticket to being an isolated, unloveable creature.

the only time within those country club walls jackie felt like herself was when lottie would come from new york, becoming more frequent when she moved to new jersey for good. lottie knew all the best hiding spots, so they'd hide together and whisper to each other until jacqueline's mother would find them.

the first time jackie showed shauna pictures of her at the country club, shauna laughed and bluntly asked, "were you constipated or something? you look uncomfortable, jax, like in literal pain." jackie would laugh it off like she had no clue what shauna was talking about.

jacqueline never truly had a childhood of her own.

teenhood & agere

the first drop jackie ever had was after her first date with jeff. her body felt wrong throughout the whole date and when she got home her mom asked her all sorts of questions that made her feel itchy. running up the stairs, jackie called shauna immediately blurting out, "mama." embarassment set in, hanging up before shauna could answer and rolling over to cry himself to sleep.

except, shauna didn't let it go, climbing in through her bedroom window later that night. "jax?" she asked, gently. the only answer was a sniffle. shauna wrapped jackie in her arms, filled with questions but not wanting to overwhelm her. "mama's right here," she muttered, a little unsure. it seemed to be the right thing to say, jax's breathing slowed, becoming less frantic.

they didn't talk about it in the morning, jackie refused to, face bright red. but when things got too much, too loud, too bright, too icky, too big, shauna was her first call and she'd come over for an impromptu sleepover, sneaking out in the morning. neither of them really knew exactly what it was, shauna just knew jackie needed it, even if she would never admit it.

it's not like shauna minded, with the start of high school she'd missed her best friend being all hers. slowly, shauna started to learn more (jax didn't speak much, so she picked things up through experience): jax loved fruit, he was a little fruit bat, jax didn't like when the lights were on, jax clawed at the dresses he came in, jax liked her flannels, jax followed shauna around everywhere she went like a puppy, jax liked playing farm games and making animal noises. the biggest thing, was that jax would cry and cry and cry, over anything, all the time, the only thing that calmed him down was shauna's cuddles.

"sometimes i find myself missing jax when jackie is i don't know big? jackie is so uptight, i can't escape how stiff she is now i've seen her free and honest. i just don't understand why jackie won't tell me when she's big, i know the lights affect her, i can tell. why won't she just fucking talk to me? does she think i don't know? i'm not stupid," shauna would write in her journal.

[ilovegrowth]

Emma's Transformation Prelude

Emma Williams sat hunched over the lab table, her chin resting in her palm as she stared at the glowing liquid swirling inside the vial. Her eyes were fixed on the faintly shimmering formula—the XX Enhancer—the result of nearly a year’s worth of research, trial, and error. Her breath hitched slightly as she watched the violet-tinted fluid shimmer under the fluorescent lights, casting an ethereal glow that almost seemed to call to her.

This is it… she thought. Everything’s about to change.

But not for her.

She glanced across the room where David Carter stood at the whiteboard, scribbling notes with the sort of furrowed-brow intensity that made her chest tighten. The subtle crease in his forehead, the way he absentmindedly bit his lower lip while he focused—it was maddening. Her heart fluttered whenever his sharp, hazel eyes flicked toward her, even if it was only to explain a calculation or clarify a data point.

David was the whole reason she’d volunteered for this project in the first place. Tall, athletic, and handsome, with short, tousled brown hair and a disarmingly charming smile, he was one of the most sought-after guys on campus. Most girls swooned over him, but Emma had always felt a deeper pull—a quiet, longing affection.

Except… David only had eyes for Chloe.

Her gaze drifted toward the door just as Chloe Carter strolled into the lab, her long, toned legs drawing every eye in the room. She was the walking embodiment of everything Emma wasn’t—statuesque, confident, and impossible to ignore. At 5’9” with DD-cup breasts and hips that swayed with effortless grace, Chloe had a body that seemed to belong on a magazine cover. Her long, wavy blonde hair framed her heart-shaped face perfectly, and her sparkling green eyes were filled with playful mischief.

As she leaned against the doorway, Chloe flashed David a coy smile.

“Hey, science boy,” she teased, her voice dripping with flirtatious charm.

Emma watched as David’s eyes instinctively flicked to Chloe’s chest, lingering for a heartbeat longer than they should. Emma’s stomach twisted. She was used to it—it happened all the time. Whether Chloe bent over to grab her phone or stretched her arms above her head, David’s gaze would follow. It was never crude or obvious, but Emma noticed. Every. Single. Time.

And it stung.

She fidgeted with the hem of her hoodie, pulling it down over her small frame, as if trying to disappear. At 5’4”, Emma was painfully petite next to Chloe. Her A-cup breasts barely filled her bra, and her slim, narrow hips made her look boyish compared to Chloe’s hourglass figure. She was all angles and slender limbs, while Chloe was curves and confidence.

David glanced at Emma briefly, offering her a fleeting smile before his eyes shifted back to Chloe. The look in his eyes was different. Warmer. Hungrier.

Emma clenched her fists under the table.

---

The Presentation – The Formula’s Potential

David cleared his throat and gestured to the vial in Emma’s hand, bringing the room’s attention back to their experiment.

“We’re officially ready for animal trials,” he announced, his voice filled with pride. “This—” he pointed to the Enhancer “—is going to revolutionize genetic engineering. A single injection will amplify physical attributes by stimulating the genes linked to the XX chromosomes. Stronger muscles, improved bone density, accelerated metabolism… and, yes,” he smirked faintly, “some aesthetic benefits, too.”

Chloe arched a brow, feigning mock interest. “Oh, you mean like bigger boobs and a perkier butt?” she teased with a wicked grin.

David chuckled, clearly enjoying her banter. “Potentially.”

Emma’s fingers tightened around the vial.

Chloe stepped closer, leaning against the edge of the lab bench, deliberately brushing David’s arm with hers. She tilted her head and flashed a playful smile.

“So… will you be the one administering the tests? Or can I volunteer to be your guinea pig?”

Emma’s stomach turned.

David laughed softly, his eyes flicking to Chloe’s face. “Not unless you’re part of the rodent population.”

Chloe pouted dramatically, tossing her hair over her shoulder. “Too bad. I bet you’d love to measure me.”

Emma’s nails dug into her palm. She turned her face away, forcing her expression into a neutral mask, but her chest tightened with frustration. She knew Chloe was only being playful. She always flirted with David—it was just who she was. But Emma couldn’t help but notice how easily David responded.

He never looks at me like that…

---

The Decision

When their work was finished for the night, Emma walked with David toward the campus parking lot. Chloe had stayed behind to flirt with one of the football players who’d stopped by the lab.

“See you tomorrow, Emma,” David said, flashing her an easy smile.

Her throat tightened. She forced herself to smile back, hoping he couldn’t see the longing in her eyes.

“Yeah… tomorrow.”

As David walked away, she felt hollow. She’d spent so many late nights in the lab, working side by side with him—listening to his hopes and frustrations, catching glimpses of his rare, unguarded moments. She knew him better than anyone, but he never saw her the way he saw Chloe.

Her hands trembled slightly as she turned back toward the lab. The hallway was empty now. She slipped through the door, her breath shallow.

Her eyes locked onto the vial sitting on the counter. The Enhancer practically gleamed under the fluorescent lights, tempting her.

She reached out, her fingers trembling slightly as they curled around the vial. Her heart pounded in her chest. No one would know. David had already taken inventory. The next check wouldn’t be until the morning.

Her grip tightened.

If I could be just a little bigger… just a little curvier…

Her lips parted slightly, her breath quick and uneven. She quickly pulled a syringe from the lab drawer and drew the Enhancer into the needle.

Without hesitating, she pushed the needle into the soft flesh of her thigh and injected the entire dose. The fluid burned slightly as it entered her bloodstream, sending a faint chill through her body.

Emma’s hands trembled as she pulled the syringe away. She stared at the empty vial in her hand.

And then… nothing.

No surge of power. No sudden warmth. No tingling in her limbs. Just silence.

Her breath hitched with disappointment. She stared at herself in the lab mirror, her small frame unchanged, still wearing the same loose hoodie and baggy jeans. Her shoulders slumped.

Of course it didn’t work…

Dejected, she shoved the empty vial into her pocket and quickly wiped down the counter to cover her tracks. She left the lab, her stomach churning with frustration and regret.

---

The First Night of Change

Back in her dorm room, Emma tossed her hoodie onto the chair and climbed into bed. She stared at the ceiling for what felt like hours, her chest tight with disappointment.

She reached down, running her fingers along her slim waist, wishing she was different. Bigger. Sexier. Worth noticing.

David will never look at me like he looks at her…

Her eyes burned slightly, but she blinked away the tears. Eventually, exhaustion pulled her into a fitful sleep.

Tomorrow, everything would change.

---

Emma's Measurements at the Start of the Story:

Height: 5’4”

Bust: 32A

Waist: 24 inches

Hips: 34 inches

Frame: Petite and slender, with narrow shoulders and slim legs.

Posture: Slightly slouched, shy, and reserved.

Expression: Often hesitant and self-conscious, hiding behind hoodies to cover her small frame.

But soon… she wouldn’t have to hide anymore.

Chapter 1 - The First Bloom

[bertoltblecht]

On Call - Four

Characters - Michael "Robby" Robinavitch x OFC , Michael "Robby" Robinavitch, Frank Langdon, Dana Evans, Jack Abbot

Summary - Rose Reilly is a surgical resident specializing in trauma medicine under Drs Robinavitch and Abbot. A series of scenes involving Robby and Rose.

Word count: 2168

Rated: Mature

Tags: Angst, Mutual Trauma, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Tension, Very Light Suicidal Ideation, Sex, Mutual Pining

A/N: The word count on these keeps creeping up! Tumblr and Ao3 are now all caught up. I'm working on Five now, it's even longer than this one alreaaaaaaady. Enjoy!

In spite of how busy the shift had been, the mood on the floor of the Pitt was pretty light. There were two attendings overlapping in schedule for a few hours and things were running almost suspiciously smoothly. 

Rose hadn’t noticed the time at all. Earlier on in the day she’d thought about setting an alarm to remind her to stop picking up new cases because she was determined to leave at the correct time tonight. Then there had been a double hip dislocation and her eyes had lit up when Robby asked if she wanted to help him reduce. The sooner they got the joints back in place, the less likely there would be permanent damage. 

When her friend Ben approached the nurses station to ask for her, Abbot’s ears perked up. “You’re asking for Dr. Reilly?” His voice sparkled with curiosity. She’d been there over a year, he’d worked hundreds of shifts alongside her, and he didn’t think anyone had ever come by asking for her. At least, no one who wasn’t clearly a patient. But he’d also called her Rosie. 

“Yeah, sorry, I forget that she’s a whole doctor.” The man chuckled and shrugged, his hands tucked into the pockets of his jeans. He was a stocky dude and sounded like he was from around Pittsburgh. “Is she around?” 

As both men took a glance around for Rose, they found her half-standing on a gurney as she helped adjust sheets around a man’s hips, pulling them up into position and nodding to Dr. Robby. “You got it? You sure?” he asked, giving everything a quick once over. 

“Yes, I’ve been doing Pilates, Jessica is going to be so proud of my form.” Rose grinned at him. 

“Jesus, what the fuck, how did that even happen?” The muttered expletive made Abbot chuckle and he turned back to introduce himself to the man, whose face was rapidly draining of color. “Jack Abbot, one of the attendings here in the Pitt and a coworker of Dr. Reilly.” 

It took a moment for Ben to look away but as soon as Rose nodded to Robby and a resounding set of snap pops echoed, his eyes quickly went back to the older man. “Ben, uh, old friend of Rosie’s, we’re getting drinks and maybe dinner.” 

“Old friend? Like college? High school?” Jack asked casually, leaning his chin in his hand. Someone who knew Rose outside the walls of this building. Fascinating. 

“Junior high actually, we grew up in the same town, a bit north of here.” Ben said, glancing over again as the other doctor offered Rose a hand to step down. Her eyes caught Ben’s and went wide. “Oh shit,” she muttered under her breath, drawing Robby’s attention.

Ben was watching Rose but Jack was watching his friend who took a series of looks between the two parties and grew stone-faced. Rose didn’t have time to notice the change in demeanor though, as she power walked over to intervene. “Ben, so sorry. I just need ten minutes to get changed and grab my stuff. You don’t need to hang out here though, I can meet you out front.” There was a nervous lift to Dr. Reilly’s voice that Abbot had never heard before. 

“Don’t be silly, I have about a thousand questions for someone who knew what you were like as a teenager.” Abbot beamed at his resident who narrowed her eyes at him. 

“You don’t get to ask any questions, and he’s not permitted to answer anything.” The overly joking tone and pleasant grin Rose settled on conveyed just an edge of threat.

“Permitted, huh?” Ben’s low laugh did little to hide his casual disdain at needing her permission, but he shrugged and smiled at her. “Don’t worry about it, I’ll just ask him about how you are now while I wait.” 

Rose pretended to groan as she signed her last chart and tossed her pen at Abbot. “Don’t betray me.” She struck a serious tone, pointing at him as she headed to the locker room. 

Jack caught the projectile pen and turned back to Ben. “Has she always been that violent?” he deadpanned, making both of them chuckle. 

For the next ten minutes, standing at his workstation, Robby half-prayed for incoming trauma. He wasn’t trying to eavesdrop, but Jack and Rose’s friend weren’t being very quiet. Ben was not in fact asking anything about Dr. Reilly or her work, he and Abbot seemed to be bonding over a shared teenaged past hanging out in the woods. 

“Yeah, we used to go out at night by this creek and drink beers and get high. And there was a night that one of her brothers had some magic mushrooms and man, I barely remember, but Rosie just flipped out. I mean she absolutely lost it. She walked six hours through the woods home and didn’t talk for two days.” Ben laughed, shaking his head. “From then on, she didn’t wanna partake anymore obviously so we used to call her Rosie the Owl because she’d just climb a tree and watch and make sure no one got hurt or nothing.” He was still chuckling to himself as the jovial smile on Abbot’s face turned more cordial and he spared a glance over at Robby who had stopped typing somewhat abruptly. 

“Woof, you’ve definitely gotta be careful with all that,” Jack lamented, shaking his head and sharing a look with the other attending. Over Ben’s shoulder, Rose emerged from the hall. She had bothered with something more than athleisure wear for no other reason than wanting someone from the Before Times to see her looking well. She certainly looked well, but an abrupt code from the curtain behind her pulled everyone’s attention as Abbot and Robby rushed past them. 

“Have a nice date - or sorry - drinks and dinner, Dr. Reilly!” Abbot smirked at her, pulling on a pair of gloves. There wasn’t anyone to notice Robby biting his cheek hard as he pushed away any emotions he might have had about those words hitting his brain - he needed to lock in again. 

Heat rushed to Rose’s face and left her wanting to throw something else at the senior attending. Instead, she forced her gaze to Ben and offered a smile. “Let’s get out of here or I’ll get pulled into something and we’ll never leave.” 

He took her bag and slung it over his shoulder. “I’m parked out at a meter.” 

When he turned to the exit, Dr. Robby was already in the middle of a trache which momentarily captivated both Ben and Rose for deeply different reasons. A noise erupted from Ben indicating he was moments from making a very annoying mess, so Rose pushed him toward the trash by the nurse’s station where he quickly deposited what remained of his lunch. She held in a groan and tapped him awkwardly on the back. Robby handed off the stabilizing patient to another resident as Jack jokingly offered him a fist bump. 

Her eyes met Robby’s and she watched his gaze find Ben recovering from puking, his eyes crinkling as he held back a grin. Rose bowed dramatically and waved at both attendings as she ushered her childhood friend out the door. 

It was just going to be drinks. If that. 

Sitting across from Ben at a high top, her third beer in front of her, Rose found her mind wandering away from the update Ben was giving on his sisters. A wedding coming up… twins… tiny home on his uncle’s farm. She shouldn’t be sitting there wishing she were at work, that was sick. Was it better to think of it as her wanting to be around people who liked her? Knew her? Saw her skills? Robby, sure, but even Abbot, Dana, Frank, Samira. Sometimes she only felt like a person when she was in the Pitt. 

“Rosie?” Ben raised an eyebrow at her. Who even knew how long ago his sentence had ended? “Gone again.” He chuckled, rolling his eyes. “I’m going to head out actually. See if I can catch some buddies to watch the end of the hockey game.” 

Rose softened her expression into an easy smile. “Sorry, long day. A lot of what you saw before we left.” She apologized but couldn’t be happier he was going to leave. “Have a good night. Send everyone my love, I’ll be home next month for Danny’s wedding and I’ll see ya at that.” 

Ben tossed twenty bucks on the table and left the bar with just another nod. 

Rose ordered fries. 

While waiting for them, her hands itched until she eventually opened her text thread with Robby. It consisted largely of short updates about breaks starting and ending, occasional hand-off notes, group order requests (black coffee, cheese pizza, a turkey on rye with mustard), and a few rare call-out texts. 

Rose: you hear about the emergency chest wall stabilization in the ct room today?

With the message typed out, she took a deep breath and shook her head. This was stupid, they didn’t text about work that way. She put her phone away, forcing herself to enjoy the end of her beer and her fries without the temptation.

Later on though, as she sat in bed with the buzz of the beers gone and only a dry headache behind her eyes remaining, Rose opened the thread again and hit send before she could talk herself out of it. 

It took a few minutes but the typing dots popped up faster than she was expecting and the reply came back a minute or so later. 

Robby: jack mentioned it tonight actually. said you did great work thinking on your feet. 

Rose: it was very thrilling it took the cake even in a day that also included reducing both that dude’s hips 

Robby: good work on that too i’m sure jessica will be very glad to hear that pilates is working or something to that effect

Rose: she’s going to love that story actually

There had been a rush of surprise and anxiety in spite of himself when Robby saw Rose’s name on his phone while climbing into bed. She was supposed to be otherwise occupied. What could she need? The prickle of anxiety didn’t leave when the text was about work, but he was at least relieved it wasn’t some immediate emergency. 

By the third reply, he was just confused. Robby had been very ready for bed after dozing off on the couch, but now he was wide awake. He stared at his phone. That could be the end of the conversation. He could leave it there and not satisfy his curiosity. Maybe she was just looking for some positive feedback after a long day? That wasn’t really Rose though. In spite of himself, Robby caved about ten minutes later. 

Robby: thought you were on a date tonight

Rose: so did he

Robby: ouch were you that nice about it to him? 

Rose: i tried 

Why was he having to pull teeth? She was texting like his fucking dad now.

Rubbing a frustrated hand over his face, Robby groaned alone in the dark. “Fuck it.” He muttered and texted again. 

Robby: so why’d you text?

Rose: i don’t know… i’m sorry 

He definitely wasn’t half holding his breath as she started typing again.  

Rose: i had one of those rare especially cool days and i guess didn’t get to talk about it really

Robby: i imagine he wasn’t up for details after how he reacted to what he saw for himself 

Rose: nope he talked through a couple drinks and went on his way

Robby thought back to the story he’d unwittingly overheard her friend tell Jack. The indignant part of him had felt a rush of injustice on behalf of the younger version of Rose in the woods. Ben’s mirthful recollection of the events betrayed a lack of respect for her that made Robby more annoyed than he would like to admit. He had no right to feel anything on her behalf. Especially not about something so stupid and far in the past as a teenaged anecdote and a nickname - who knew how she felt about it now anyway? None of it was any of his damn business.  

Robby: i hope you at least got dinner out of it 

Rose: giant basket of fries that i did end up paying for myself but what can ya do? can’t bat a thousand for the day

Rose: thx for texting back 

Rose: have a good night 

Rose: i’ll see you tomorrow

A heavy sigh relaxed his shoulders, and he shook his head as he chuckled to himself.

Robby: goodnite see you tomorrow

Robby plugged his phone in to charge and rolled over onto his pillow. Rose had never been here in this space with him, they never came to his place, but he felt like she was lingering there with him. Just over there in the darkness by the phone.

prev/next

[hancfubuki]

caleb was completely unaware of his words, how much of a sweet talker he was. it just came so naturally from here, he doesn't even notice the blush spreading on rafayel's cheek, because if he had, he would be teasing the hell out of him. it's ironic how he doesn't even realize that rafayel might see him in the same light, but probably because such poetic words simply came from the bottom of his heart without expecting something in return or be liked by the god. caleb was no people pleaser, he couldn't help being a natural, a so well liked person, graced with beauty and a nice body that he still... didn't acknowledge. he knew he was popular, yet never seemed to understand the reason behind it, as in his head, he was simply another nerdy guy with very niche interests.

"i would say that i will fight to bring peace and protect lemurians so they can see the surface. buuuuut--" there's always a but, "i kind of like being the only human knowing this sanctuary exists. call me sel-fish." he laughs at his own little pun, trying to lighten up the mood. "this is truly a place that shouldn't be disturbed by human's greed. i have experimented in the flesh how cruel they could be. there's no way their hearts know peace." a sad and cruel reality that he had to confront. human nature is not friendly, is destructive and greedy, selfish in a very bad sense, they would exterminate this village in seconds with weapons and experiments, even would treat them as food and slaves. "is that a dare, though? i must warn you i like extreme sports. i could definitely swim back and forth to the surface. what's the worst that could happen? die?" a sarcastic tone leaves his throat along with an expression that mocks the idea of dying. not like he hasn't experimented it over and over again.

he decides not to continue with his talk, noticing how sleepy rafayel is. he wonders how those rituals are, what he is put through that makes him so tired throughout the day. but yet again, it's the first time he has seen him in a month, so it could be just the day, or he simply didn't rest enough the night before. better not to ask.

leaving rafayel in his slumber, caleb returns to the town to have a sleep on his own. finding himself noticeable restless after what just happened. he lied on the bed, staring at the cellar for a while as his thumb reaches his own lip. the hell he had done. he realizes it was simply a force n his body, yearning, something that he wouldn't have done in his right mind. however, it did feel like some sort of spell. he felt draw towards rafayel, yet, to put it in a simple way, he decides it's better to put it aside for a while. that of course, doesn't stop him from looking for the young god the next day. his feet taking him automatically to the palace, requesting the guards to see his little seashell again and planning a whole day of adventures beforehand.

though, the sight of rafayel sprawled on that massive bed, with his face buried in a pillow and his limbs tangled in soft blankets ruin his plans completely. it is also oddly endearing. caleb pauses inside the room, nodding to the guard as a silent 'thank you' as a smirk starts tugging at his lips when the little emissary fish danced around him before darting off. now, thinking about it, the guards didn't hesitate that much. so was rafayel always this unguarded, or did he simply trust caleb too much already?

stepping closer, caleb couldn't help but take in the rare moment of vulenerability, or peace, as he should call it. even gods need to rest, apparently. so he crouches by the edge of the bed, resting his chin on his folded arms as he watches the rise and fall of rafayel's breathing. amazing how this creature appears to be oddly mortal, in a very ethereal and unreal way. he wouldn't know how to describe it, how real he looks yet at the same time, such a mythical being that not even in his wildest imagination he could create. and this quickly affirms his theory from yesterday. the exhaustion speaks volume, and caleb attributes it to the days of rituals, studies and probably the weight of a city's expectations bearing down on him. the city had its beauty, but honestly, the lemurians out there didn't have this luxury.

"seashell." he murmurs softly, a teasing rhythm in his voice. "i didn't think gods were supposed to look this mortal." his voice is down and husky, almost whispered, mostly talking for himself. and as rafayel doesn't stir, caleb decides to lean closer, and contrary to an expected action, he simply jumps and flops over rafayel's body on his stomach, capturing rafayel's body in his frame. almost looks like some type of... wrestling? huh. dog behavior indeed. "alright sleeping beauty, rise and shineeee!" he brushes rafayel's hair from his face, holding him in place to prevent him from covering his face with something, not even taking in consideration his own strength. "your city might think i'm some kind of charmer who can sweet-talk even a god, but i am not above waking you up the old-fashioned way." still no response.

caleb raises an eyebrow, the challenge clear in his face as he leans closer, his breath ghosting over rafayel's ear. "rafayel. wakey, wakey." he whispers in his ear. his tone low and deliberately provocative. "you don't want me to go lost for another month, do you?"

Only twice.

"I told you, it's not easy to get out of the city." Rafayel gives him a look, and if he were feeling less tired, he would be pouting and giving him a time. "Most Lemurians in Whalefall city haven't even seen the sun before, not even once, in their life. We're not to go out the city walls, and when we do, we don't stray too far. Going up on land means meeting with you humans, and from experience, we know that doesn't bring us any fortune. Lemurians have no interest in warfare, and we would like to keep it that way." To keep trouble away, to keep humans from noticing them on most days and fending for themselves in the depths. Right now, humans couldn't reach Whalefall City, but the elders seemed adamant that their greed knew no bounds and that one day- if they were to go against these rules, they would come for them no matter how deep their city lay.

But that was exactly why he had wanted to see it. The forbidden, colorful light different from their colorless pale rays.

Suddenly, a shadow is cast over his face as Caleb barges right into his personal space. Something he seems to be making a habit of. The Lemurian thinks he should stop him, or at least remind him what it meant to have their own space- but he gets a finger on his nose and it surprises him into silence, eyes going from his finger up to the other's. Again, it seems like he has something to say and Rafayel decides to let him, to see what was spiraling in his head now. Then, he goes on the most... cheesy spiel that has his voice locked in his throat, his breath stopped while Caleb continues to let his own beautiful eyes roam. Like the ocean meeting the edge of the sky. If that was what he thought of the Lemurian's eyes, how would he feel knowing that he found the man's eyes just as captivating? If Rafayel was the ocean, Caleb reminded him of the endless skies. The same pink hue that dusts the clouds as the sun makes its way down the horizon as if sinking into the depths of the sea. The color of twilight as pink turns maroon and then this brilliant shade of purple as the sky turns dark and stars trace the endless space. The cosmos was trapped in his eyes, and every time light hit those irises it reminded him of the first time he saw that mesmerizing beauty of light flowing like waves so far from his reach-- the one thing that kept him staying afloat for hours drawing lines between each sparkle.

Then Caleb's hand moves, tracing over the moles on his skin that he had never specifically cared to note as if they were something beautiful, comparable to the glistening stars in the real sky. That they thought similarly of each other was a secret he would keep to himself. But the artistic nature in him screams that Caleb was the sky, space, the source of reflected light that dyed the colorless ocean, giving it its various shades. Thick, heavy lashes brushed against his cheek as his eyes lowered and hid them from his view. If Caleb were to look a little to the side, he would spot the red hue spreading on his ears- a clear sign that his talkative nature was starting to get to him. Unnerve him, and peel away at the walls he built to reveal just another living being that feels shy at such unabashed poetry.

Hopefully, the closeness kept Caleb from seeing it all.

"If you wish to brave the darkness of the ocean at night, unable to see even your hand in front of your face, unable to hear through the pressure of the deep sea, and tossed around like floppy seaweed by the currents as the tides shift- I give you full permission to try. Don't come swimming back like a coward and tell me I didn't warn you if you do." Rafayel huffs, giving his leg a light nudge. Stop teasing or he'll contemplate throwing him out there just to see what happens. Just as he thinks that they will get to sleep, Caleb is talking again, another spew of such... Honestly, it doesn't seem like he's trying to gain something from Rafayel at the moment, but his words are sinful. "Is this how you got to my people..." he whispers, wondering if this was why they seemed so fond of the human that came suddenly out of the blue. A sweet-talker through and through. "You aren't the only reason. Don't get too much an ego." He nudges, burying his nose in the other's hair and breaths calming. "But... you can do whatever you want. Look at the sky, or look at me..." His words drawl, and soon he's breathing softer, falling into a light nap.

The next day, Rafayel works for several days without a break, busy as the elders bring him around and ask him to do his studies and rituals, overseeing matters in the city and such. Normally, he didn't even have to be involved but it was just that one time of the moon's phase where he would be dragged about. At this point, Caleb might as well only see a tired God and never see anything else. By the time he's done and given freedom once more, he spends a whole day sleeping off his fatigue. The young Lemurian has no idea what the human had been doing while he was forced into labor. It was the next day, as Rafayel slept belly down in his gigantic bed when someone knocked on his door. "Your Eminence, Sir Caleb is asking to enter-" and before he can finish, Rafayel is waving a hand, a tiny blue fish swimming excitedly towards the door and through the tiny gap, twirling around Caleb like a child. The show of his emissary is enough to have the guard pull away, leaving Caleb free reign to enter his room without anyone to stop him.

Well, Rafayel will be in bed, face buried in his pillow. Good luck waking up an incredibly sleep-prone man.

[dol-dee]

🥇Winners of "Worst Couple in Town" competition<33🥇 Foxglove (pc) belongs to @getinthefuckingcarkitten

[tomboyyyaoi]

nightlight

[casukaga]

fanart of drawfee’s trans rigs charity stream that happened today 🩵