#I’d love to see people turn this into a terribly long post with things that make life worth living for them

[littlemissmentallyunstable]

there’s been lots of requests and comments so here it is PART 3!!! (SHE’S HERE first anon, hope you survived this long second anon and it was not a dream third anon, I’m posting/making it now fourth and fifth anon)

some of you were going feral for part 2 so I hope this lives up the expectation 😭😭 if not I’m severely sorry

title: the dancer and the angel part 3

pairing: grayson hawthorne x reader

synopsis: grayson has just admitted to kissing lyra kane, the girl you’d been worried about, the girl that was stunning, the girl he said didn’t matter… he chose her over you so now what??

parts: part 1 part 2 part 4

warnings: swearing, SPOILERS FOR TGG

a/n: okay so I hate switching POVs but I felt it was necessary here and I know the start is the same as the part 2 but in Gray’s POV but trust me there is lot more

tag list: @tornqdowarnings @whatsamongus @wish-i-were-heather @inmyheaddd @never-enough-novels @sweetlikeanangel @midiosaamor @sweetreveriee @emelia07 @f4iry-bell @zaraaaabear @thoughtdaughter3 @benny1989fredd @elysianwayy77 @maybxlle @sheisntyou @anintellectualintellectual @aleatorio1234 @adalia-jaycee @off-to-the-r4ces @lyra-kane @reminiscentreader @lyrakanefanatic @imaseabear @elizaa31

GRAYSON’S POV

Guilt has chewed me up and spat me out the whole walk back to our shared room. There’s a pulsating lump in my throat that aches relentlessly, reminding me of what I’ve done. I am a terrible person. I never deserved her and now I’ve done the worst thing I could’ve possibly done, that anyone on this whole planet could’ve ever done. And she will never forgive me for it. I wish there was a way to turn back time and alter certain events. As soon as the time machine is invented, no doubt by my very own brother Xander, I’m coming back to moments before now to stop my idiot brain from-

I can’t even think it. Maybe it’s because it makes it more real. It’s like the last few moments of my life have been erased from my brain, it’s a blank canvas and I have no paints. I know what I did but I can’t remember exact details. Still, I can taste her on my lips, an over sweet taste that was almost too sickly has now morphed into something bitter. Her perfume lingers on my clothes and adds to my ever growing headache. I don’t want to smell her, I don’t want the reminder of the awful human I have become. The monster that now inhabits my body, lives in my skin, breathes my air and poisons the people I love. The ones I truly love.

Y/n. At one point she was the only reason I was still existing, still carrying on. She somehow managed to give me the fight to keep carrying on. I got up most days because I knew I would get to see her face. And now I’m going to throw everything away, our whole relationship. Everything we’ve been through or planned to go through together. It will reduced to nothing in a few minutes.

I’m outside the door, my feet have carried me here through muscle memory. I must go in, I must face her I’m aware but I’m afraid. I’ve never felt so pathetic. I wonder if she is still asleep. Though, I can’t work out whether I’d rather she be awake or asleep. I don’t think I could bear to look at her angelic feature either way. Those wide eyes, round lips, heavenly- I can’t bear it, I’m going to lose her, all of her.

I fiddle around with the key, hoping the door will just never unlock so I don’t have to face this. The mechanism clicks, mocking me. I step in silently and face the door to lock back up again. I don’t understand why, I know I’ll be kicked out in a matter of seconds, what good will a locked door be? And yet I’m still facing the door, fumbling with the key, my back towards her. Though I can hear her getting out of bed. She’s awake. My body’s immediate response is to go into a state of paralysis. I can’t move as the guilt ridden cement hardens over my body, creating an outer shell of the cruel creature I’ve become. Her body is behind mine. I can feel her bright presence radiating her usual tentative nature.

“Are you okay?” I hear her whisper as she touches my arm so gently it stings.

It stings so sharply because I know what I’ve done. The shameful crime I’ve committed. I jerk away suddenly.

“Are you hurt?” she asks, deep concern in her tone.

It kills me. It’s a poisoned dagger wedged deep within my heart, hitting every vital artery. Her voice is so soft, so melodic. She cares so much, too much and I’m about to destroy it all. And as much as I could not say a word I couldn’t live a lie, the guilt would eat me alive. How could I look her in the eye and tell her she’d always been the only one when I know she hadn’t? She’d already noticed earlier today my distant mood. She had always been observant, vigilant about those things concerning me and I’d always been grateful. I wouldn’t have that anymore. Lyra had been on my mind earlier and I couldn’t tell her. Now she would realise.

“No,” I reply.

My voice is unfamiliar to myself, it’s sharp and blunt. It sounds horribly harsh. I could feel it hurt her, the air ripples with a touch of dimness when I hurt her. Even with my back to her it’s obvious to me. I know her so well, too well and from this day on we might drift to perfect strangers. That thought hurts me more than anything.

“Where have you been?” she says. Her voice so sweet, so innocent, cruelly naïve.

I don’t want to break her, I don’t want to do it. It would be like smashing a glass ballerina. Something so beautiful, something so delicate should be preserved not purposely broken. I force my eyes to meet hers. I immediately regret it. The soft mellow colour all melts into one, clawing at my heartstrings and ripping the organ to shreds. She’s so beautiful. How had I ever looked at any other? How had I let myself?

Suddenly I’m drowning in guilt. I don’t know how, it just comes over me suddenly. Like a tidal wave I had my back to. I’ve been swept under by an endless ocean of shame. My lungs swollen full of my own black sin. I don’t know how but I manage to choke out two shaky words.

“I’m sorry.”

My voice cracks. My voice never cracks. She knows that. I’m sturdy, I’m strong, I’m the rock that never breaks and here I am. Here I am crumbling into dust. She’s too smart to miss the signs, she’s too clever not to immediately know something so horribly wrong, her mind is too sharp not to have worked half of it out. She’d already been suspicious of Lyra. She’d already seen what might happen between us even before I did, before it did actually happen.

“Gray?” she asks, my name sounding too sweet on her tongue. The next time she says it will taste bitter, I’m sure of it. She barely whispers the word but I hear her, it rings in my mind. It forever will.

I’m full of pure regret and guilt, it wracks my soul, shaking me relentlessly back and forth until I’m dizzy with it. Remorse’s doors suddenly burst wide open, ready for my grand entrance. My hopes and dreams snicker and smirk smugly as I walk down the runway, my head hanging in embarrassment.

I need to tell her. My heart races in my chest and there’s a lump stuck in my throat, so large it’s started to block my airways. I don’t know how to get the words out, I don’t know how to talk. I feel like I’m suffering some sort of aneurysm. She looks at me, her eyebrows pinched in and eyes narrowed and then I see it. Her eyebrows part and slowly sink. She knows already.

“Tell me,” she murmurs, her voice of an angel shaking.

I close my eyes, trying to suppress the tears. I haven’t cried in years I’ve forgotten this feeling, this heavy weighted agony that ripples through me causing water to infiltrate my eyes. I bite the inside of my cheek and still my shaking hands.

“I’m sorry,” I tell her, an uninvited raw desperation ripping through my voice, “I never wanted to hurt you, I never meant for it to happen, I-“

“Tell me,” she grits through her teeth sharply, her eyes glitter so beautifully fierce and fiery, like she wants to kill.

But I know she’s trying to steady her rising sadness by covering up with her fury. I can see through her, like she can see through me. I freeze and the pause elongates. The aching silence is deadly, it’s fatal. I wish she didn’t have to make me say it.

“I kissed her,” I murmur, the words making me feel sick as I say them.

“Who?” she asks, he tone low and ferocious, “who did you kiss? I want to hear you say it.”

I’m twisting a knife into her heart and I know it. But she wants me to cut deeper. She’s a woman of principle, I’ve already hurt her, I might as well do the job properly in her eyes. And I can’t deny her this. Not I’ve stripped her of her dignity, her trust, her love, her everything.

“I kissed Lyra,” I whisper, suddenly aware of the dampness on my cheeks.

A sour taste fills my mouth. The words send lightning sparks across my jaw, sending ribbons of agony down the sides of my face. The truth hurts. Literally. Tears are rolling the side of my face, but I don’t bring my hand to wipe them and nor do I stop them. I’ve never felt more broken.

But she doesn’t care, there is not pity in her eyes. Good. I don’t want he to pity me. She should hate me. She should want me to miserable and hope for me to have a lifetime of the torture I’ve just forced her to endure.

“Get out,” she murmurs, the anger bringing out her natural stunning features. A flicker of boldness in her eyes, the striking angles of her eyebrows, her strong thick lashes and her full lips.

“I’m sorry.” they’re the only words I remember how to say, through my internal fit of torment.

I expect her to hit me around the face, a good strong punch I know she can make or a sharp smack that’ll leave a red hand mark pressed against my cheek. I imagine she might scream at me and ask me all the questions I wish I had answers to. But she does none of that. She only looks at me darkly and utters two last words.

“Leave Grayson.”

I can hear the tears she’s trying to hold back, through the numb façade. I know her better than she’ll ever realise. But it’s not fair for me to stay, not after this. She’s only asking one thing of me when she should be doing so much more. So I do. I turn my back on her again. And I leave.

***

Tears pummel down my cheeks like never before. I can’t remember the last time I cried. I don’t think I’ve ever cried like this. I’m blinded by them as I stumble sideways. I don’t know where I’m going. I stand on the edge of the cliff and sink to my knees, letting out a loud guttural scream. I’m there until my throat is so raw I can’t feel it. I bite my lip so hard it draws blood. And then I’m up again and running, following a path my footsteps are dragging me towards. I can’t think straight, I’m dizzy with pain. Before I know it I’m outside the safe house on the island. My hands tremor on the handle and I swing open the door, falling to the floor for my sobs to take me over. My chest aches and burns and tightens. That’s when I realise I can’t breathe properly. I fumble around for my phone, a tear splashing into the illuminated screen. With uncontrollably shaking hands, I typed no words. Just three numbers.

911

***

The wait feels like years, maybe even decades. Each second taunts me, with a mocking tick. I’d crumbled into the corner of the room at some point and stayed there, curled up and choking on my own sorry sobs. What had I done? What had I done? What had I done?

The question circles around my head like the nostalgia of a distorted tune of a merry go round. I’ve never made such a big mistake and my life and deep down there’s a sinking sensation that is telling me I’m not going to be able to make this better. I sob, loud harsh sobs that hurt my lungs and knock the air out of my stomach. My whole being shakes with every strangled noise that escapes my lips. Grieving. I’m grieving over something I chose to throw away. It’s cruelly ironic. But I think part of me is also grieving the good man I once thought myself to be, that she made me believe I could be.

I turned my back on the one and only person in this world who just cared about me, took me for who I am and believed I could do anything. She only wanted the best, she only wanted happiness and she deserved so much more and here I am, stabbing her in the back and dancing in her blood like a madman. She was my everything and I managed to mess it up, just like everything else in my life. I can’t have normal relationships, I can’t do something without messing it up. I’m one big screw up the opposite of how the old man raised me to be. He’s looking down on me now and I can feel his disappointment, like an infection coursing through my bloodstream. I failed him, I failed my brothers, I’ve failed her, I’ve failed myself.

She thought I was better, she believed I could be more than his expectation. And I was stupid enough to believe it, encourage it and let her belive the lie too. We’re all idiots.

I can recite her favourite song, her favourite flower, her favourite food and favourite colour. I can tell you all about her favourite novels and how she orders her books on an endless bookshelf. I know that she tells people her favourite film is ‘it’s a wonderful life’ but it’s actually secretly ‘tangled’. I know she prefers to stay inside and cuddle under blankets rather than have a night out. I know she’d rather reason a thousand books than watch a thousand movies. I know she wanted a library in her dream house and two, maybe three children with her husband and I know she’d sometimes debate about getting a cat as well. I know how she loves brownie batter more than the actual brownies and can’t sleep with any lights on. I know she still uses the bunny rhyme to tie her shoelaces and how she fiddles with her collarbone when she’s nervous. I know exactly what diamond she wanted in her engagement ring and her favourite country. I know what people she despises and I know what people she adores. I know every inch of her face, every hair on her head, every sparkle in her eyes and every cell on her skin.

I know her.

I know her, but that can’t help me now. Pain ripples across the left side of my chest and my hand clamps over it as I grit my teeth to try and bear it. I hear the door creek open and can’t tell whether it comforts me or not.

“Grayson pookie!” Xander calls out, “we’re here.”

His cheerful voice doesn’t provide me with the cushion to this pain I thought it might.

“And we have some in incredibly strong whisky,” Jameson adds, I can here the mischievous grin in his voice, it’s been the same all of his life.

“My nose hairs are officially burnt off,” Xander agrees.

I can’t speak. I try to call out for them but the words die in my swollen throat.

“Where are you Gray?” Nash calls out, he sounds a little more worried than the other two but is concealing it well.

“Here,” my voice is hoarse and laboured, even I can’t recognise it.

The mood immediately shifts, you can feel it. The air becomes tainted with concern as their footsteps approach my cowering figure. The case of whiskey is dropped as there is an audible thunk as it hits the floor. I can feel their bodies enveloping around mine creating something of a circle of safety. I look up to worried face and shiny eyes.

“Help me,” I gasp for air, greedily trying to gulp down the oxygen that I feel so deprived of, “please.”

“We’re here to help you Gray,” Nash murmurs softly. His voice had always been something comforting, especially when I was younger. I wonder if he will be so kind when I tell him what I’ve done. He’s going to hate me, there’s nothing he despises more than a man who can’t respect a woman.

I shake my head and choke out another struggling sob, instead of the words I don’t know how to say. Jameson’s eyes flit between mine and Nash’s, the concern rippling across his features. He’s never looked this concerned for me in his life. I think to all the times as children I’d helped him settle after a nightmare and wiped his tears that he hated falling when the old man had humiliated him. Oh how the tables had turned. Now it was my little brother wiping my tears.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, his touch so gentle it shocks me.

“I can’t-“ I barely get out, wrapping my hands around my neck.

“Gray…” he trails off, unmasked emotion hitting his face like a train.

“I can’t breathe,” I wheeze as the invisible blanket that was set out to suffocate me tightens over my nose and mouth.

“Hey, Gray, look at me,” Nash says, his voice smooth and reassuring, “in and out okay, in and out.”

“I can’t,” I pant, my limbs shaking embarrassingly uncontrollably.

Xander takes both of my hands into his and squeezes them until they still, “yes you can, follow Nash’s instructions okay?”

“Slowly, do it with me,” Nash nods, “in through your nose and out through your mouth.”

I do. In and out, a rhythmic pattern. Each time Nash reminds me how to breathe. There’s an aura of calmness about his voice that lulls my panic into a narcoleptic sleep. Once my breathing is halfway regulated I look at him, dead in the eye, with shaking sorrowful lips.

“I fucked up,” I sob, “I fucked up and I don’t know what to do.”

They all share a look, this is the worst state they’ve seen me and we all know it. I begin to pathetically sob uncontrollably once again, the feelings building up in my chest and tearing me apart from the inside out. It’s like a rabid pack of wolves had been set loose to feed on my internal organs. I don’t know how to stop the ocean of tears, I don’t know how to shut my mind off, I don’t know how to help myself. Reel myself in from this abominable mess I’ve become. I’m hyperventilating, my chest throbbing up and down unevenly. Nash nods towards Jameson, a short, soft, sharp nod of approval.

“Hey! Calm down!” Jameson snaps, giving me a hard slap around the face, “snap out of this!”

The shock shuts me up and the sting stops my tears. I’m back to reality instead of a wallowing mess. Nash must’ve been approving the slap I realise in the sudden cleared head I’d obtained

“Sorry,” Jameson mumbles at me, looking a little guilty.

I massage my jaw, “no I think I needed that.”

He grimaces and then softens his tone, “what happened Gray?”

I tense, growing very still, “I can’t say it out loud, I can’t, I’m awful, I’m horrible-“

“What happened?” Nash drawls.

I choke out yet another unnatural sound. Seems the slap didn’t snap me hard enough into reality. I exhale slowly. I have to say it, now or never.

“I kissed Lyra.”

The words hurt even more this time, that they did when I’d admitted it to y/n. Neither one of my brothers can mask their honest reaction.

“Oh fuck,” Jameson blurts out, “you cheated?”

Anger. He’s fuming with me. I can see the rage trailing through his eyes and blossoming into his expression.

“I didn’t mean to,” I reply, feeling like a small child.

Jameson’s eyes widen and fury flashes across his face, “how can you not mean-“

Nash shoots him a look and his mouth glues shut. Then he turns to me and I can’t quite read him yet. I gulp.

“No one does that kind of thing for no reason,” he says sternly, “I never thought you’d be the one of the four of us to ever do that, seems I was mistaken little brother.”

Disappointment. He’s disappointed. A horrible sinking feeling settles in my stomach. Nash is disappointed in me. It’s one of the worst feelings imaginable. There had only been few times in my life when he had been and I remember the feeling all too well. Shame has me in a chokehold an it’s succeeding in strangling me. I can‘t bring myself to meet his eyes, I don’t want to see that look I can feel is on his face, that look of pure disapproval.

“How did she find out?” Xander asks quietly.

Shock. He hadn’t said anything until now, but his lips had been slightly parted and he’d paled a little. He never thought I’d do this to anyone, he’s yet another person I’ve let down.

“I told her,” I murmur, “the guilt was consuming me.”

“As it should,” Jameson snaps, twitching with a fiery ferocity.

“Jamie,” Nash says, trying to keep some kind of diplomacy.

“No,” he growls, “you don’t do that to a girl, your girl, you can’t do that!”

“Don’t take the moral highground now,” I spit.

“When you’ve cheated on your girlfirend? Yeah I think I will,” he replies, the bitterness rolling off of his tongue like a deadly poison. He doesn’t know I’ve already poisoned myself with my own actions, his words can’t hurt me.

“I didn’t mean to,” I falter.

“Bullshit,” he grits through his teeth, in two definitive and threatening symbols.

“Careful Jamie,” Nash warns.

“All this is your fault anyway,” I continue, ignoring the warning.

“So it’s my fault, you kissed another girl, yeah, okay Gray,” he nods his head with a sarcastic smile.

“It is!” I exclaim, throwing my hands in the air, “if you hadn’t locked me in a room with her-“

“So it’s my fault you couldn’t keep up dick under control,” he quips, interrupting me.

“You could’ve locked me with my one of my sisters but of course you just had choose the only girl who isn’t related to me,” I seethe.

“Odette isnt related to you,” Xander pipes up. I’d forgotten he was there, that anyone besides me and Jameson were there.

“Odette is old enough to be my grandmother,” I scowl at him, immediately feeling bad as the words leave my lips, but don’t dwell on it as I turn back to Jameson, “why did you make me a player in your sick excuse of a game?”

“You can’t use the game as an excuse,” he laughs darkly.

“I will,” I reply sharply, “this is your fault and Avery’s fault too.”

“Avery? Don’t make me laugh,” he rolls his eyes.

“The game never should’ve been created by her,” I yell, “that’s why I’m in this mess!”

“No, you’re in this mess because of you,” he shouts back, “but don’t you dare bring Avery in to this it’s not her fault.”

I feel like I’m one of those circus acts, the ones that lay on a spinning board and get knives hurled at them. Only in my case the knives are the truth and they actually hit me.

“Why did you make me a player?” I ask quieter now, my voice hoarse, “why?”

“I didn’t know making you a player would result in this,” he says.

“It was so irreverent,” I snap becoming angrier by the second, a sudden burst of red overriding any rational sense in my head, “I never needed to play.”

“You can’t pin this on me Gray, if it didn’t happen with Lyra, who knows who else it would’ve happened with,” he hisses.

“So you think I’m just like this? You think this is me?” I ask him, prodding the hollow space where my heart used to be.

“I didn’t before….” he trails off, sighing, “but now I don’t know what the fucking think of you.”

“Jamie,” Nash repeats again, in the same warning tone as before. We both ignore him.

“Just because you and Avery are all peaches and roses-“

“Leave Avery out of your anger issues,” he roars defensively.

“No,” I counter, raising an eyebrow, mirroring his usual argument demeanour, “you think you’re so perfect now you’ve got your dream girl and the two of you are so much better off than the rest of us, because your love is undeniable or whatever bullshit people feed you about it-“

Jameson’s features twitch for a split second. He’s hurt, but won’t show it. He’ll refuse but I know that it hit a nerve that won’t heal for a long time. I stop mid-sentence.

“I am far from perfect, I think we both know that,” he says, in a low voice, “look you’re hurting, I get it, but I’m not going to mollycoddle you and tell you it’s okay when it’s not. I’m not going to stand here and lie to your face because as your brother that would be the worst possible thing for me to do to you.”

“My brother would try and understand what it’s like from my side,” I say, desperation clawing at my voice.

“You’re looking for a fight Grayson and it’s not going to end well, not with me,” he warns, shaking his head.

“Maybe I do want a fight, but you know you do too,” I growl rolling up my sleeves, “so fine, I’ll give you a fight Jamie.”

“I don’t want a fight, I want some justice for y/n,” he states simply, “she did nothing to deserve that Gray, she’s been so good to you, the sweetest soul on this earth and she’s helped you through a lot of shit and this is how you’re repaying her?”

“Jameson,” Nash says.

He ignores him for the third time and I can see his calm facade beginning to drop, “you think because you called a 911 and you’re here crying that I should feel sorry for you?”

“I thought you were going to be here for me,” I reply numbly, my tone dead, “clearly I’m mistaken.”

“I can’t be there for someone with no morals,” he replies, “you cheated and you’re the one who’s upset about it, how do you think she feels?”

“You think I don’t know her?” I fire back, my throat burning, “you think I don’t know exactly what she’s doing right now? I hate myself, I hate myself for doing what I did!”

“Good you should!” he screams back.

Before I know it I feel myself charges towards him, ready to throw a good punch but Nash and Xander launch onto me to quickly and managing to hold me back. Nash’s grip is so tight I don’t dare try and budge.

“Out. Now.” Nash says sharply to Jameson, “go and cool off.”

His tone sends a shiver down my spine that I won’t admit to. Jameson opens his mouth to argue.

“Jameson.”

He skulks away, with a sullen face. We all wait frozen until the door has been slammed shut. Nash lets my arm go, dropping it harshly and Xander follows suit.

“And you’re no better,” he turns to me, placing his cowboy hat on a nearby surface, “I’m only sending him away because you can’t be left alone in this mess and so the two of you don’t rip each other to pieces.”

Silence stills the room. His voice echoes but makes no sound all at the same time.

“Take a second, take a breath and we’re going to talk this through like adults,” he says, “if you want to carry on being a child then leave. Calm down, you’re not a toddler having a tantrum, you’re a grown man, act like it.”

Nash has a way of snapping me back to reality. I nod shakily.

“Talk.”

I begin, “I don’t even know why I kissed her, I didn’t mean to it just-“

“Happened?” he guesses, “no little brother, that doesn’t just happen.”

“The I don’t know Nash,” I say, tipping my head back and resting it on the wall behind me.

I hadn’t meant for it to happen. I didn’t want it to happen. It just did. She was there, just stood there. Her hands looped naturally around the back of my neck, warm and gentle, “someone sent me that ticket Grayson. I thought it was Avery but if it wasn’t…”

She trails off, her voice small and tentative. Her golden eyes filled with the utmost worry. I wanted her to know she’d be okay, that she’d have someone to keep her safe. Her arms get more comfortable around my neck. She’d felt it too, the electrifying spark between us. It was exhilarating but something about it was off, synthetic.

“Then who the hell was it?” I questioned, my hands magnetised to her cheek all of a sudden.

Lyra didn’t pull away and neither did I. I lower my head and she raised onto her toes and titled hers back a little. She was graceful, like a dancer. My lips brushed over hers. They were sweet like honey. For the first few moments it was bliss and the realisation hit, like a stone to my stomach. I jerked backwards suddenly, shaking my head.

“I can’t do this,” I said, my fingers trying to wipe her taste off of my lips, “I don’t- this isn’t-“

I was tongue-tied, not able to explain to her how wrong it was. The words wouldn’t work the way I wanted them to.

“Gray?” Lyra murmurs, a tender voice. Her amber eyes are widened and slightly confused.

“No,” I yell. She flinches and another wave of horribly strong emotion rushes over me, drowning me. “No I’m in love with someone else. I don’t know what that was. I can’t-“

I stumbled backward a few steps and the turned around and ran. Like the coward that I am.

“It did just happen,” I murmur, lifting my head from the wall to look my older brother in eye, “I swear to god, I didn’t intend for it to happen, I didn’t even know I had feelings for her.”

I can see he disagrees still and isn’t convinced. I don’t know how to prove it to him.

“Let’s establish one thing here, who do you like?” Xander asks me.

“I like Lyra,” I say slowly, “but I love y/n.”

Nash shakes his head, “if you loved her you wouldn’t have done that.”

“I made a mistake,” I press on.

“And you will pay for it and regret it for the rest of your life,” he shrugs, “it’s not what you wanted to hear but it’s the truth. Listen, I love Libby and loving someone means so many things. One of those things is that I don’t even look at other women, to me they don’t even really exist. Libby is my world and no one else even comes into the equation, so the fact is someone else came into the equation for you, meaning the love wasn’t there.”

“But it was, I felt it,” I say, my voice breaking as I press my chest.

“What do you feel for Lyra?” he asks plainly.

“I don’t know, she’s intriguing and smart and beautiful,” I murmur, “and I like her, but I don’t know if I have romantic feelings for her.”

“Then why did you kiss her?”

“Comfort? Lust? Greed? Selfishness? I don’t know it just happened,” I repeat for what feels like the hundredth time.

“Stop using that phrase as a get out clause,” Nash shakes his head, “you have to admit to yourself more than anyone that this didn’t just happen.”

“I leaned in and I put my lips of hers, and I didn’t stop it, it didn’t feel wrong straight away,” I admit out loud finally.

“It didn’t?” Xander says, looking wounded.

“No, it didn’t feel wrong until I realised what I’d done,” I say, looking down, suddenly finding my shoelaces to be the most interesting thing in the world.

No one replies for a long while. That’s when I realise how exhausted I truly am and how much I crave sleep.

“I vouched for you,” Xander says quietly, “I told her that you’d never do that, that you weren’t that guy.”

“I’m not,” I say, in denial at first. I take a moment to analyse his sentence and then come to a sickening realisation, “oh my god I am…”

“She was already anxious about where your loyalties were Gray,” he winces.

“I proved her right, I proved every worry she had right, I just proved to her that she shouldn’t have trusted me,” I spiral, hating that I hadn’t seen it sooner.

Xander looks to Nash for support for a reply.

“Yeah,” Nash sighs, “you did.”

“I need to fix this, there has to be a way-“

“Grayson,” the acuteness of his voice cuts through my sentence like a machete.

I freeze and clamp my mouth firmly shut.

“This isn’t a broken vase, you can’t glue it back together or buy a new one,” he tells me softly.

He was referring to a time where Jameson and I had been seven and eights years old. We’d been brawling of course, Hawthorne style and accidentally smashed a vase. Usually it wouldn’t matter, there were vases all over Hawthorne House and they were smashed frequently. But this wasn’t just any vase. It was nan’s priceless vase that had belonged to her daughter, our grandmother, Alice. We were never allowed within a five mile radius of it, but like the rebellious children we were, we didn’t listen. Through our fight we’d smashed the whole thing, it was truly destroyed. The two of us stayed up for nights on need gluing together the pieces only to realise it was never going to look like the original again. So we’d hunted to buy another, problem was, this vase was one of a kind. It turned out after four weeks or trying to ship a similar one in that nan had known the whole time. She didn’t speak to either of us for a good few months.

“This is real life, she is a real person and you hurt her,” he explains, “fixing this isn’t an option. There isn’t a way to fix it, there are no pieces to our back together, okay?”

I’m silent but it’s the loudest voice in the room. My face pinches together in agony. For the first time, a little of the disappointment fades and my brother’s face softens. He wraps a strong arm around me and I flop into him like a lifeless bag of nothingness. I bury my head into his shoulder and try to cry but there seems to be no tears left. He understands and holds me for a moment. Suddenly I’m six years old again and crying in Nash’s in my arms over Jameson hiding my favourite teddy bear at the time, then I’m eleven in his arms with pneumonia after being stupid enough to get caught in the rapids un the dead of winter wanting a good photograph of a rare fish, then I’m seventeen, crying over a redheaded girl who I thought I’d managed to murder. And now here I am, at twenty-two years old in his grasp once again, having made the greatest mistake of my life.

Suddenly I feel another set of arms wrap around the both of us.

“Group hug!” a familiar voice sings.

Leave it to Xander to make me crack a half smile in the darkest moments I’ve ever experienced. After a while I pull away and sigh.

“Do you think she’ll ever forgive me?” I ask, pulling away.

“Honestly?” Xander asks.

I nod

“No,” he says. I wish I could see that little glimmer of a lie in his eyes, but I can’t. And it kills me.

“Think about it like this,” he sighs, “would you forgive Eve for what she did?”

“This is not the same thing,” I reply coldly.

“Eve cheated your trust, she betrayed you,” he explains gently, “that’s exactly how she feels.”

Dread fills my every pore as I murmur lifelessly, “I’m as bad as Eve.”

“No wait,” he says, looking guilty and panicked all at the same time, “that’s not what I meant!”

“I know,” I reassure him so some of his guilt subsides, “but it’s true and now I’ve just realised.”

“Look Gray, you aren’t Eve. You’re never going to be Eve, but think of how you felt then. That’s how y/n feels,” Nash soothes, “she’s not going to just forgive you, that’s not how it works.”

“You just broke her heart Gray,” Xander adds, careful to keep his tone as light as a feather, “for a girl you just met.”

“Why am I horrible person? Why do I always find a way to mess to something good?” I groan, smacking my head on the wall behind me. There’s an audible thump as pain spreads through the back of my skull. I wonder if I can concuss myself to forget all of this, but I don’t attempt the idea.

“You don’t-“

“No I do,” I say firmly, cutting him off, “I’m not meant for love, to love or to be loved, I’m not built for it. I’m not a good enough person for it. I’m never going to find my Libby or my Max or my Avery.“

“Grayson-“ Nash begins.

“Emily knew it and now so does y/n,” I snap.

My brothers still at her name, not moving a muscle. I never bring up Emily.

“Listen to me,” Nash says sharply, getting my attention, “you are meant to be loved. You are meant to love. I love you, Xander loves you, Jameson loves you and y/n loved you too…”

The change of tense makes my soul ache.

“…but this time around, you made a mistake, a costly mistake. But that doesn’t mean you don’t deserve love.”

I nod numbly, robotically.

“What can I do to make it up to her?” I ask, my voice beginning to tremble, “to show her I’m sorry? Something there has to be something.”

Nash gives me a grim look and Xander’s face remains blank, they’re the only answers I need. My head sinks into my hands. The door reopens and I look back up. Jameson has returned.

He meets my eyes, “Avery’s with her.”

Blood surges through my heart and I can almost smile. He checked on her. For me.

“Is she okay?” I ask quickly.

Jameson looks at me and for a split second I almost see the ghost concern is his eyes. He shakes his head softly, “no, but she will be,” he replies, it’s an attempt to comfort me and I am grateful.

“Thank you,” I mumble.

“I’m not apologising for what I said, because I still stand by it and you won’t change my mind,” Jameson says, “but I am sorry for being so angry about it.”

“You were right,” I whisper, “you were right about me. I never deserved her, so was nothing but an angel to me and I just turned around and threw it all away. I abused the luxury I had, I stabbed her in the back and then gifted another with the knife, I’m a horrible person.”

“What you did was wrong, but that’s doesn’t make you a horrible person,” he sighs, “you need time Gray, this is going to take a lot of healing. On both sides.”

“I don’t deserve to heal, I deserve to be in pain,” I murmur, the dullness in my tone echos around the empty walls.

“Oh no, we’re not going back to emo Grayson,” Xander says quickly, shaking his head.

“I agree with Xander on this one,” Nash nods, readjusting his cowboy hat.

“I don’t want to hear you blasting my chemical romance at three a.m and then denying it later again, you came out of that phase we’re not going back there,” Jameson tells me.

I bark out a laugh that thaws my icy chest. I then bite the inside of my cheek.

“I can’t fix this, can I?” I say, looking at the ground,

Nash shakes his head softly.

“But that doesn’t mean you can’t be fixed,” Xander says.

“You’ll get through this Gray,” Jamie agrees, “I know it.”

The room grows still.

“Can we drink that whiskey now?” I ask, to cut through the silence. I feel like getting drunk, I feel like I need some relief.

“Big brother,” Xander nods at Nash handing him the bottle.

“Little brother,” he tips his cowboy hat in reply before taking the bottle into his hands and cracking it open.

“Let me pour these things properly,” Nash grins, “Jamie, come help.”

“Wait me too!” Xander jumps up,

“Stay with Gray,” he shakes his head.

“I don’t need to be babysat,” I grumble, annoyance written all over my face.

“I want to watch them pour whiskey properly,” Xander explains, “so I can impress Max.”

My eyebrows fly to my forehead, “Max drinks?”

“No I want to impress her though,” he grins.

‘You’re an odd human,” I almost laugh, tilting my head to the side.

“Why ta very much!” he says, almost skipping away.

Once I know they’re all gone, I lean back on the wall, my heart feeling a tiny bit less heavy. The pain isn’t gone. I think I’ve just gone numb. I feel hollow, empty, nothingness. Guilt is still gnawing at my insides but slower. A satifying clink against the fragile rim of the glass takes me out of my own head for a split second. There are hushed voices from the kitchen, I notice. I walk over to the door that lay ajar, I lean in to listen.

“We need to tell him,” it sounds like Jameson.

“Not now,” the accent indicates Nash.

“Then when?” Xander’s voice asks, “how long can we prolong it.”

“I can hear you,” I tell them, raising my voice a little.

They turn to face me, awkwardly remaining silent. The expressions on their faces don’t offer me comfort.

“Whatever it is, spit it out,” I say, “it’s not like tonight could get any worse.”

They share a look. Apparently it can. I feel sick to my stomach.

I can barely breathe, “who died?”

“No one has died,” Xander says quickly, “yet.”

“What?” I say, my tone deadly,

Nash glares at him, then turns back to me. There’s sorrow laced delicately, deep within his hazel irises.

“Gray,” he says gently, “Gray we hate to do this but…”

“What? What is it?” I ask urgently.

“Gigi’s missing.”

The words shock me to my core. I feel my throat begin the close up as panic returns with a smirk and triumphant greeting. My whole world has collapsed in less than 24 hours.

***

YOUR POV

I don’t hate him. Call me naive or call me stupid. But I don’t. I don’t think I ever could. The kind of love I have for him is unconditional, irrevocable. Time can’t heal a wound this deep and although it is still fresh now, I can tell. But if he were to say sorry I think I would forgive him every time. And if he asked me back I’d fall into his arms into an instant. And I hate myself for it, it’s stupid and it’s a little cruel. How easily I would take him back after what he did. I know I shouldn’t but something inside of me is drawn to him. Like an invisible magnet has been planted in our hearts. I wish I didn’t love so hard, fall so deeply, maybe I wouldn’t get hurt so badly. But it’s in my nature, it’s who I am. I wonder if he knows how much pain I’m in, the rippling agony that rolls across my chest relentlessly with no hint as to when it will cease. I’m tired of being the second choice but unfortunately I wouldn’t mind being his. And I know it’s completely stupid of me to think that way, completely wrong but love makes you do stupid things so they say. I sit on the beach, by the sea in a state of numbness. Silent tears roll down my tears as the waves lap my feet. Deja vu washes over me and the memories of Grayson and I the night of the game flash through my mind.

I grip his hand and run with him as he guides me the just beyond the shore. He sits down swiftly on the sand and pulls me down to sit between his legs. I lean my back onto his chest and let him nuzzle his face into my collarbone.

“I love you,” he whispers, kissing my neck, “only you.”

Only me, huh? Only me…

The waves crash against the rocks, hurtling a salty spray towards me. I hear footsteps and turn around. Avery stands there, a mournful expression over her delicate face. She knows. I stumble towards her and collapse into her arms in a fit of uncontrollable sobs now and she holds me. Her touch is gentle and warm but it’s nothing compared to his. I realise he might never hold me in his arms again and I cry even harder.

***

I don’t hold Lyra accountable. She is not to blame. Some girls in my position might dream about different ways to brutally murder her but I can only ask what comfort would it bring me? My feelings are already dead, what good is more pain doing?

There was a choice that Grayson Hawthorne was given: his dancer or his angel. He chose his dancer and I hope he’s happy. Because angels have wings and we rise up stronger.

idk guys I think I wrote Grayson’s POV really awfully to be honest… also I feel like the 911 meet up was not like their normal ones where they try and like do something (e.g drink or dare) and then talk about the pain but that’s bc Grayson was in such a mess and then they had to drop the bomb that Gigi was missing. so anywayyyss…

I am sorry this took so long and I hope it lived up to any expectation you wanted it too (sorry if it didn’t) and I hope you enjoyed 🤍🤍 thanks for reading as always

TIG masterlist

[satoruhour]

omg I’d love to hear more about baby fever + gojo 🥹 just watching him match a babies babbles like he can actually understand them is killing me!!

a/n: omg stop anon this is so CUTE?? and ik i posted like three things today but posts will be slower this week since i still have work to do technically even if i have a school break ! / one sex joke lol

gojo always had a knack for caregiving — whether it was defending yuta against the higher-ups and advocating for yuji’s life (even if it had to be delayed) and making sure that one kid had gotten home safely after getting trapped in an abandoned home. but you realised you’ve never really seen your boyfriend around babies. it wasn’t a good idea in the first place, to mix babies and sorcerers — part of why nanami had waited so long before starting a family with his partner, or how utahime turned in her resignation for good after getting pregnant.

but now that you’re past terrible things in the world like sukuna and kenjaku and you both have properly buried your best friend’s body, you’re looking ahead to better things. you’re not too keen on kids, but you do sometimes spiral into what your kid with satoru would look like, probably taking the bulk of his features while some of yours are fighting to take first place. that sentiment is changed more and more when you see how gojo interacts with kids.

it’s when nanami first invites everyone to their (long overdue) baby shower, only wanting to introduce his partner and kid only a year after they’ve been safe. nanami is the happiest he’s ever been but so is gojo, dancing so foolishly in front of the kid to get her to like him that all she does is scrunch her face and hide back in her mother’s neck (“yeah, that’s nanami’s kid alright.”). soon, she’s let go to interact with the students, playing around with megumi’s dogs, running around the house from yuji and inumaki, doing silly battle poses with the girls. her laughter is like beauty to all the grown-ups in the room, something meant to be protected and cherished.

gojo tries to win her back, sitting on the floor so his height wouldn’t be too imposing and she almost runs into him. his infinity stops her and her head cocks to the side in confusion — she continues to run into gojo’s shield again and again, giggles at being constantly pushed back with a silly sound gojo makes with his mouth; it convinces her enough that she’s running into a bubble of some jelly.��

it’s some time later where you’re mingling with nanami’s partner, talking to shoko and utahime while your boyfriend chats with nanami (weirdly normal, you note) about everything. but you’re broken out of conversation when you hear gojo quietly squeal to his junior who only sighs. it’s all a facade; you know he’s actually glad his daughter succumbs to gojo’s charms soon enough, letting him carry the small toddler who’s already oh so tired from the day. she melts into satoru’s arms, mumbling something incoherent that he replies just as incoherently and bounces.

satoru strokes her hair, speaking in a hushed tone now, something that rarely happens in your home and it convinces nanami just a little to make him her godfather. he’s still considering it.

the next time it happens is when he meets utahime’s baby boy for the first time, coming over to provide some gifts and to just see your old friends. it’s a little hilarious how the first two people to have children are the people who are not particularly fond of gojo but both nanami and utahime are surprisingly tame when it comes to the strongest handling their kid. she’s giving him her baby carefully with a clear threat behind her eyes but he knows not to fuck anything up. the baby is clueless enough to not know who he was even being handed to, babbling mindlessly while drool leaves his mouth.

“babba boo-boo,” it’s gibberish, but satoru matches it perfectly, making stupid sounds back at the baby that you can’t help but grin. “wahbaba boo!” gojo continues to coo and mumble insults with a pointed finger to hime, “your mom is too uptight, can you tell her to calm down a little?” which gets a little hey! from the retired sorcerer and the baby attempts to copy his pointing. “mambama!” utahime’s and her partner’s soft gasp is all you need to know that they haven’t heard their baby call any of them, yet.

the baby continues his babbles and blows a raspberry, face lighting up at the bubbles he manages to make with saliva and gojo just has to laugh at how easily entertained children are. you’re stood there, heart melting with the gentleness in which he treats kids, because once the little one is handed back to utahime and you’re saying your goodbyes, you can’t even look at your lover without feeling lightheaded.

“you’re good with kids, y’know.” you’re saying as you remove your coat while satoru toes off his shoes in your home, your shared space. it feels unreal.

gojo pfts, “of course, baby!” he does a cute pose with thumb pointing toward him, “i’m just that good at everything.”

you laugh, “’course you are…” pulling him down, you have to kiss him or else you’d be overflowing with all the love you have for him and it’ll spill everywhere. gojo eases you into the kiss, humming and sighing in contentment.

“i’m just wondering…” you mumble, a little nervous. you’ve never thought of kids that much even but you think it might be due time even if you didn’t have a ring on your finger. “if you ever thought of having a kid with me?”

satoru’s face softens and you can hear his smile, “of course i do, princess. every time.” his voice is soft when he says it and the way it flips your heart makes you dizzy. “but only when you’re ready. and only when i’ve put a big fat rock on your fourth, although if you’re interested in a shotgun…”

you have to shoot him the finger before you’re nodding to yourself just to remind that everything depends on you. even if it takes 5, 10 years, or even if you didn’t want any children at all, gojo is enamoured with you too much to let it be a dealbreaker.

“i want it… soon.” gojo laughs softly at that, taking you into his arms right at your doorstep and kisses you deeply once again. you brace yourself against his toned chest, clutching at his coat with tippy toes. in classic gojo satoru fashion, he has to pull away to make a dirty joke.

“i’m surprised that you aren’t knocked up already with how much i c—”

“gojo satoru. if you finish that sentence—!”

“—um in you…”

you pull a face, resorting to smacking him on the arm and he surrenders with loud laughter and an apology filled with pecks and kisses. standing at the doorway, you’d never think it would happen so soon.

two months later, satoru is getting down on one knee and asking you to marry him.

[jewish-vents]

first - i just want to say thank you for making this blog. it’s so important to know that we aren’t alone in the many things we’re experiencing and feeling right now, especially when so many of us have become painfully isolated as of late.

i apologize for how long this one is going to be.

i’ve been feeling so, so alone recently. my tumblr dash has been cut down to just a handful of jewish blogs that i can trust to be kind and understanding and nuanced, but it means that the majority of the content i see is about antisemitism and the war. after a while, it becomes draining to scroll through what feels like endless sadness. i turned to looking at fandom tags instead of following fandom blogs, but it makes me feel equally as insane to click on a blog about race cars and immediately see a post with 60k notes calling what’s happening in gaza “the new holocaust”. i started going back on twitter, but fan accounts on there too are only safe for a day or so before the account owner shares some awful antisemitic tweet from an account known to be an anti-jewish extremist. i went back on instagram briefly, but i was soon afraid to look at people’s stories for fear i’d see something terrible and lose yet another trusted person from my life.

in person, i have to walk by signs saying “zionism = genocide” and hastily scribbled palestinian flags with the colors in the wrong spot on my way to class every day. a wall across from my apartment says “BDS” in giant letters. i haven’t opened my curtains in months because of it. a “protest” of about 25 people stood in the center of campus and yelled and waved their fists in passing students’ faces, so jewish students didn’t go to class on any of the days they gathered. i only have one non jewish friend left at school - the rest abandoned me because i either called them out on antisemitic rhetoric or refused to go along with the idea that anyone, palestinian or israeli, muslim or jewish, is less than human. i had taken several of them along to our hillel’s seder in the past. i don’t know who i can safely go with this year. i have a few jewish friends, of course, but i love bringing goyische friends with little connection to judaism along to experience how joyful and loving jewish holidays can be.

it feels like there is no escape from this fucking war. it sickens me that it’s the only thing people pretend to care about - where is the attention for sudan, ukraine, armenia, uyghurs in china, syria, guyana? how is putting an emoji in your twitter bio or putting a translucent overlay of the palestinian flag on your tumblr icon any sort of real activism? how have we gone from “antisemitism is wrong” to “(((zionists))) control the world media”? it seems like the war is a fandom to these people. it seems like nobody cares enough to fully read and think critically about what they share, let alone do real research beyond looking at an infographic somebody shared on their instagram story. they’ll add on “don’t forget your click today!” to an unrelated twitter thread that went viral, flip the bird at the local starbucks, and put “won’t you free my palestine” on their instagram stories. they’ll anonymously tell a jew online to commit suicide. they’ll feel secure in the knowledge that they’re the perfect leftist, that this is somehow “good trouble”. all this praxis, and nothing to show for it but massive surges in hate crimes against jews. good job, guys! you singlehandedly saved every innocent person in gaza!

it’s isolating. it’s scary. jews can’t mourn. jews can’t be angry. jews can’t disagree. jews can’t suffer. jews can’t be whole, complex people with diverse beliefs and experiences. suffering is a game, and the goal is to hurt the most, scream the most, die the most, all to appease western leftists whose closest connection to war and violence was reading the hunger games in middle school.

i’m tired of it all. i want a peaceful and just resolution to the war. i want the mindless hatred everywhere to stop. i want to be able to scroll through social media and see nothing but fandom. i want to walk through campus with my magen david showing and all the friends i lost by my side on the way to the hillel seder. i want to open my curtains again. i know the experience of one diaspora jew is nothing compared to what people living in israel and palestine are currently going through, yet i still need this all to end. i don’t think any of us can go on like this, but we must, because we have. for thousands of years, we’ve gone on. that still doesn’t mean it has to be this hard all the time.

all i can think is “now we are slaves. next year may we be free.” now we are slaves to hatred and violence and suffering. next year may we all be free. next year may we all be in jerusalem.

.

[tequila-solar-storm]

NS/FW

CW mpreg, eggpreg

I'm glad to know I wasn't the only one who went A J A W E G G S after that line hahah

Thank you for painting such a delicious picture. I see your vision, I absolutely can't blame Kinich for not wanting to deal with a second Ajaw but what if they turn out to be a second Kinich and tag team against Ajaw lol that'll be somewhat cute haha.

Kinich developing a breeding kink because of ajaw will be hilarious. The saurian relic opened a new horizon for him and now he'll want even more from his partners. Dragonlord be damned!

I'm eating up the hc about his complicated relationship with the tribes cause you're SO right. And ngl I do wanna see what camp two is capable of! lol Trinidad is for sure one of the leading figures in there, he's such a hater HAHAH

Thanks for answering!! Very pleased to have found a space where I can feed my kinich brainrot xD take care author!

—🌻

Previous Post (Eggs)

Previous Post (Relationship with tribe)

Feel free to keep sending your brainrot my way! I love it!! You take care too, anon!! ❤️❤️❤️

Response under the cut! Spoilers for Kinich’s character stories and the Yupanqui's Turnfire Tribal Chronicles!

I wonder how Ajaw’s baby would look like 🤔 A direct copy of Ajaw? Pixel? Dragon? A mix of all three? Ajaw’s technically a projection now, which makes me doubt his real form is pixelated, so probably not pixels?

If Kinich somehow had a guarantee that the kid would turn out more like him than Ajaw, he’ll be jumping on that dragon dick without hesitation!

Imagine after a nice long fuck, his partner of the day casually asks him when did he develop his breeding kink? Kinich, being the blunt fucker he is, just goes ‘Ajaw’ and proceeds to give his partner a whiplash because whAT DO YOU MEAN YOU GOT IMPREGNATED BEFORE BY THE??? TINY PIXEL LIZARD?? HOW?? 🤣

Camp Two wanna fuck him so bad they look stupid!! They’re capable of SO many things, but unfortunately defeating Kinich isn’t one of them. His stamina is simply too good + he’s a raging masochist. So no amount of bullying can break his spirit! He thrives on it instead! Maybe that’s why he could get along (Somewhat) with Enjou/Sanka so well. It’s masochist on masochist communication HAHAHA

And of course, we can’t forget Trinidad! As much of a hater as he is, I don’t think he’ll actually do half of the terrible things Camp Two would. He’s still an elder of the tribe and a generally decent guy (I don’t like him denying Huni her dinner when he scolded her for lying/recklessness, but it’s pretty obvious he was struggling a LOT with grief during that time). Not only does he prioritise the tribe’s safety over tradition (I wanted to watch him argue more with Wayna 😩), Kinich himself says the tribe needs people like Trinidad, which emphasises that he’s an okay person!

If anything, he’ll denounce the other members of Camp Two, being like ‘don’t be disrespectful even if you don’t like him! Be the better person!’ and then turn around and guiltily wank to humiliating Kinich 😳 We also don’t know if he has a living spouse, but if he does, I’d love to imagine his partner being supportive in his desire to wreck Kinich. They’re usually monogamous but because Kinich is THAT annoying they decided to make an exception for him HAHAHAHAHA

If they’re going to do it, Kinich’s going to have to be the one initiating. Once he’s serving himself up on a silver platter, though, there’s no way in hell Trinidad will be able to resist. That’s when all the nasty stuff will come out!! The most tame it’ll be is Trinidad aggressively fucking his mouth so he can’t talk back, scolding him with stuff like ‘Not only are you some Mora-obsessed degenerate, you’re also a loose slut! You can’t be further from a hero!’ While Kinich’s just. Super turned on plus super amused at how mad Trinidad is! The more aggressive end of their sessions can get highly physical, with scratching, biting, slapping etc.

Now I can’t get the mental image out of my head: Trinidad sitting on the edge of a bed, face in his hands, dying of guilt/horror/denial/shock at just having the most mindblowing sex with someone he hates. Post nut clarity in its finest. Meanwhile, Kinich’s staring impassively at Trinidad’s naked, scratched-up back planning to goad the elder into fucking him again 🤣

What would their ship name be actually. Trinich? Trikinich??

[thatguywhodoesstuff]

Another Round Of J X Thad Incorrect Quotes

(I want to thank everyone for the positive reception of this post, it was really encouraging given how niche this ship is.)

———

Thad: Sometimes, I’m embarrassed to be dating J, because one time while we were in class, she yelled at the teacher and told him to shove a marker up his urethra. (Breaks down laughing)

———

J: This is a bad idea.

Thad: Then why are you coming?

J: Someone has to get your injured ass home.

———

J: (Softly) I want to kiss you.

Thad: (Turns to look at her) What?

J: I said if you die, I wont miss you!

———

J: Crushes are the worst. Whenever I’m near mine, I start acting stupid.

Thad: But you always act stupid. Wait…

J: (Sweat appears on her visor)

———

J: Relationships should be 50/50. Thad cooks me dinner, while I sit on the kitchen counter looking pretty as I supervise him.

———

Thad: You have to apologize to N, J.

J: Ugh, fine! But I have to warn you, this might make me a better, nicer person and that is NOT the person you fell in love with!

———

Thad: I want to be with you for the rest of my life.

J: Wow, if I didn’t know better, I’d say that sounds like a marriage proposal.

Thad: (Gets down on one knee) That’s because it is.

J: (Blushes aggressively)

———

Uzi: (Shyly) If I fall…

N: (Warmly) I’ll be there to catch you.

Lizzy: (Looks up from her phone) What if I fall?

V: Then I’ll fall with you.

Thad: (Turns towards J) And if I fall?

J: (Looking at a clipboard) I’ll be the one who pushed you.

———

Thad: (Infodumping about sports)

J: Ugh… Stop doing that.

Thad: (Confused) Stop doing what?

J: (Crosses her arms & looks away, lightly blushing) Saying things that make me want to kiss the hell out of you.

———

J: How… How do you ask someone out?

N: Well, first-

Uzi: Don’t listen to him, he asked me out in an underground lab cathedral.

J: …And you said yes?

Uzi: B-bite me!

(Later, after a bunch of shenanigans)

J: I’m in love with you.

Thad: Oh come on J, we called off the prank war hours ago.

J: …I know

Thad: Ah. Okay. Uh… Cool. Neat. Very cool. Cool. Cool. Coolcoolcool-

———

Thad: Could you cut me some slack, J? I’m sort of in love.

J: (Unmoved) That’s really not my problem.

Thad: (Exasperated) I’m in love with you.

J: (Blushes) Oh… Well, that kind of brings me into the loop.

———

J: My crush isn’t picking up on my hints.

Lizzy: Have you dropped any hints?

J: Well, I think about him a lot and sometimes I even think about talking to him.

Lizzy: (Gives her a look that screams “Seriously?”)

———

Thad: So… You like cats?

J: Yeah.

Thad: (Tries to impress her by slowly pushing a glass off of the table)

———

Thad: Uh… Are you trying to seduce me?

J: (Laying before Thad surrounded by candles, her tie loose and collar flared) Why, are you seducible?~

———

Thad: (Somberly) J and I are no longer dating.

J: Thad! That’s a terrible way of telling people we’re married!

Thad: (Chuckles)

———

V: Do you love Thad?

J: …Yes. I do.

V: I knew it! I told you, Uzi! You owe me 100 bucks!

Uzi: Wha-? We all love Thad! You should’ve asked if she was in love with him.

J: I thought that was implied.

Uzi: (Stares dumbfounded while handing $100 to V)

V: (Accepts the cash with a smug grin)

———

J: Goodnight to the love of my life, Thad, and fuck the rest of you.

———

N: (Trying to be supportive) Just be yourself.

J: Really? N, I have one day to win over Thad’s parents. (Turns to the rest of the group) How long did it take for you guys to like me?

Lizzy: A couple weeks.

V: Six months.

Uzi: The jury’s still out.

J: See N? “Just be yourself,” what kind of stupid advice is that!?

———

Khan: So, are you going to explain how the hell you crashed the bus?

J: Well, we were driving and there was a deer in the road, so I said “Thad, deer!”

Khan: (Casts a look at a nervous Thad, who has been silent since they made it back to the colony) …And what did Thad do?

J: …He said “Yes, honey?”

Thad: (Buries his face in his hands)

———

Thad: Do… Do you love me?

J: We are literally married.

Thad: Yeah, but as a friend or-

J: (Pulls him into a kiss) Does that answer your question?~

Thad: (Nods dreamily)

———

Uzi: (Watching the news) This sucks.

J: This is horrible.

Uzi: I know! I mean, look at today’s news.

J: What? No, it’s not that, it’s Thad.

(Uzi looks at her confused)

J: It’s just, I can’t get him out of my head and every time I look at him, I have this pain in my core, and I just know its his fault, that son of a bitch!

———

N: How is the most beautiful person in the world?

Uzi: (Blushing) I-

J: Thad is doing perfect, thanks for asking.

———

Thad: That was so hot, J.

J: I literally called the skank who just flirted with you a degenerate dog and told her I hope she gets dragged through the streets.

Thad: I am so in love with you.

———

J: My hands are cold.

Thad: Here, let me hold them.

J: (Lightly blushing) My lips are cold too.

Thad: (Covers J’s face with his hand)

———

(At 3 in the morning)

(Lizzy and V run into Thad’s room with air horns and turn on the lights)

Lizzy: Wake up sleepyhead!

Thad: (Wakes up) Ugh, dude!

(Lizzy and V laugh)

J: (Sits up from where she was sleeping behind Thad) What the fuck are you two doing?

V: (Jaw drops)

Lizzy: Wait WHAT-

(J deploys a machine gun and fires at them)

———

[daddyy333]

Secret’s out | Chris Sturniolo x y/n

if you’d like you can reblog my original work, but please don’t post it without credit. if you take inspiration from my ideas please tag me, I’d like to see how someone else would write it

word count: 1.7k

warnings: reader is drunk, reader is hungover, reader throws up, reader cries, ?

summary: you accidentally reveal you and Chris’s relationship to the public

You giggled as you walked out of the bar, drunk off your ass. You never drank much, and then when you started dating your completely sober boyfriend Chris you drank even less because it felt like the right thing to do in your opinion. He told you he didn’t care as long as you let him know and that you told him who you were with and that there was a designated driver.

Tonight, you convinced your designated driver to have a few too many shots and ended up drunkenly texting your boyfriend “Git Jen drunj. Pick ud up!’?” You couldn’t really see straight but you were pretty sure you got it right (Chris barely understood what you had typed).

10 minutes later he was outside of the bar, a sleepy but content Matt in the driver's seat park a little far away because the bar parking was packed. You’d feel terrible in the morning finding out you made him drive unnecessarily this late but he’d rather get you home safe than leave you to get home on your own.

“Hey, y/n” he said as you stumbled out, a drunken smile on your face as you looked at him with heart eyes. “No princess? I’m not your gorgeous girl anymore?” You slurred, tears filling your eyes. “Y/n, we’re in public” he said softly, brushing your hair back.

You sighed and said “it’s okay! It’s night time! People are sleepy!” You groaned and grabbed his face, kissing him softly. He initially wanted to cringe at the taste of vodka on your tongue but then you started to caress and squeeze his neck and he melted.

“Mm- mm mm shit- babe! Come on” he said and pulled you away from his face. You looked up at him with a pout, your eyes glassy. You sniffled and said “you don’t…you don’t looove me?” “No, baby I love you so much, I do. Let’s just get home” he said and you continued to pout.

“You don’t love me…” you said, looking down and folding your arms. He sighed and said “my gorgeous girl-” “no don’t call me t- that. Y-You won’t kiss meee in public” you said through hiccups. He cupped your cheeks and lifted your head up.

You looked up at him and he pecked your lips quickly and you smiled. He smiled too and said “let me pick you up. The car is a far walk away” You yawned and he scooped you up, walking down the street to take you to the car.

You kept kissing him but he wasn’t super anxious about it because it was so late he thought it wasn’t possible anyone would catch you two. He put you in the car and you slept with your head on Nick’s lap, snoring a little which made Chris unable to keep his eyes off you.

Nick rolled his eyes and said “this is so disgusting” “shhh! You’ll wake her up” he said, reaching over to stroke your cheek. You smiled a little, a sleepy whimper coming out as you curled up even more. He blushed and Nick sighed, making Matt giggle.

You got home and clung onto him the whole time, making him carry you all over the house as you giggled into his neck and kissed all over his face. He sat you down on the counter and wiped off your makeup and gave you some medicine to hopefully help when you wake up with a hangover.

When he finally got you in bed, you fell asleep almost immediately, cuddling into him once he got in bed too. He kissed your head, rubbing your warm back and listening to you mumble in your sleep, blushing when you said his name.

When you woke up you were really nauseous, and Chris was already downstairs making breakfast. You cringed even more at the smell and said “baby?” as you rubbed your eyes and yawned.

He turned around and smiled at how cute you looked with your puffy little lips and messy hair. “Hey,” he said, kissing your cheek. You groaned, hugging him tight. He picked you up and said “you feeling sick?”

“Yea” you said, sighing softly. He set you down on the counter next to him and you said “what are you making?” “Just eggs and toast” he said and you smiled. He handed you more medicine and you kissed him as a thank you.

“Gross!” Nick said, coming downstairs. You blushed and said “shut up, loser” Nick scoffed and threw a sock at you. Chris covered you and said “hey, stop” You nearly swooned, Chris was so ridiculously protective and it genuinely made you melt. He was standing up to his own brother who threw a tiny little sock at your leg of all places simply because he didn’t want anything bothering you.

Matt came downstairs and dapped you up, groaning when you ruffled his hair up. Chris gave you breakfast and stood between your legs as you fed him half of your breakfast, even though he kept trying to make you eat.

“Guys? Have you checked your phones?” Nick said and you shook your head. Chris grabbed his phone and opened it checking Instagram, assuming maybe there was some new update “I don’t understand, nothings different” he said and Nick showed him a tiktok.

Your stomach dropped, you could see the two of you outside of that bar last night and then you started kissing on him and practically hanging off of him and then you watched your pouting and then he picked you up and you two kept kissing and just kept on fucking kissing.

You jumped off the counter, running up to his bedroom. You locked the door behind you, breathy and strained whimpers leaning your mouth. You knew you’d fucking do this. You’d fuck up and ruin everything and expose your relationship before Chris wanted to.

Your chest felt so tight, you could barely fight the tears because of how upset you were with yourself. “Baby! Baby, hey it’s okay. I’m not upset, can you please open the door” he said and you sighed shakily. You felt so nauseous now, you ran to the toilet and threw up.

The stress combined with your hangover didn’t mix well, and you felt like crap. Chris managed to jiggle the cheap lock open, and ran to your side in his bathroom. “My love, hey, hey it’s okay breathe” he said and rubbed your back, holding your hair.

You groaned and coughed a few times, your entire body shaking as you tried to push him away. “Stop it,” you whined, you didn’t want to see him because you didn’t want him to be mad at you or break up with you.

“No, you stop. I’m here, I’m not going anywhere” he said and you shook your head, sighing as you flushed the toilet. You stood up and brushed your teeth, your entire body vibrating.

“Honey, why are you shaking? Everything is gonna be fine” he said and you just ignored him, you didn’t want to talk about it and you were so sick of him always pretending that he’s not mad at you. He’s never once gotten upset with you and you just can’t stand it. Why is he so calm around you?

You tried to leave the bathroom but he stopped you, picking you up and placing you on the counter. “I’m not upset wit-” he said and you rolled your eyes, trying to get off the counter and away from him. He scoffed and said “Y/n, what the hell? Stop fighting me”

“No, you always do this! Every time I fuck up or something you just talk to me and that’s it you never yell at me or get angry you’ve never even breathed differently when I did something wrong, and this is as bad as it fucking gets. Why can’t you just get mad at me and why the hell are you still with me?!?” You yelled, your vision was so blurry and you almost couldn’t hear or something, and holy crap your mouth was dry.

“Y/n, hey, hey look at me,” he said and you locked eyes with him, looking around his face frantically and trying to blink away the blurriness. He gently grabbed your hands and breathed with you, talking to you so softly and bringing your mind back from the panicked state.

He’s weirdly grateful that growing up with Matt taught him how to also help you when you had moments of anxiety or even attacks like this one. He was holding you now, and you weren’t fighting him, which told him you’d given up.

“I don’t get mad at you because I don’t like to see you upset or sad and I don’t want to make you sad either, I think it’d kill me. I love you too much to want to be angry. Yelling and screaming isn’t healthy, either, you know? At least not every time you make a mistake. I understand when you do it it’s because you can’t help it and need to let it out. You don’t get mad at me nearly as often as you think, by the way” he said and you shook your head.

You sobbed and said “this is really bad…” “then so be it, my love. I don’t care who knows. At least I can kiss you in public now and touch your butt whenever I want” he said and you giggled, looking up at him.

“I’m sorry,” you said, more tears streaming down your face. He wiped them away and said “don’t be sorry. You didn’t know what you were doing, plus you were too cute for me stop you so it’s also my fault” you rolled your eyes and Matt and Nick popped into the room.

“Hey…” Matt said awkwardly. They got overly worried and couldn’t help but creep up to check on you two. Based on the fact that the door was opened the assumed things were decent. Chris looked over and said “it’s…it’s fine. We’ll deal with it. I’m not gonna let something so stupid make us so upset”

You sniffled and buried your head into his chest, the embarrassment of knowing everyone can see a video of you hanging off of Chris and kissing all over him like some clingy teenage girl hitting you like a truck. Nick chuckled at you and you flipped him off.

“Now you guys can kiss whenever. My life is ruined” he said and you giggled again. You played with his hands nervously and shoved Nick playfully. You stuck your tongue out and Chris shook his head as you said “you’re just jealous!” “Alright, babe, real mature” he said and kissed your head.

As of now l'm writing for

Eddie Munson

Lo’ak

Neteyam

Sebastian Stan

Bucky Barnes

CW!Bucky Barnes

Chris Evans

Geralt of Rivia

Henry Cavill

Chris Sturniolo

So just comment the taglist you want to be added to and l'll add you :)

[diodellet]

the kindest place to place a kiss (jamil viper x gn!reader)

@mochimiyaas tagged me in this post and now i am double-buried under these Gushy Gooey Feelings and thought of uno reversing jamil (ignore that last tag...life came up and hit me in the face with a metal bat that's my only reason for posting this late *punts my impostor syndrome across the ocean*) content warnings: light descriptions of kitchen injuries ++lots of loving and physical affection, established relationship shenaniganery. mildly unbeta'd all mistakes are mine. word count: 1.06k words

Jamil Viper was indifferent to pain. Getting splattered by cooking oil, handling hot pans and plates, getting nicked by knives, these were only the usual occurrences that came with working in the kitchen. A fraction of what constituted his daily life. 

It could be said he was indifferent to anything and everything less than pain. The life he led had no room for such. 

Not to say that he held pride for his position in life, but he was (unwillingly) secure in the knowledge of what he had.

That was what he thought, before you tumbled into his life.

It started slowly, with little gestures of concern: helping out here and there with chores, stealing Kalim away when Jamil’s patience was about to boil over, offering a pack of medicated pain-relief patches. Little things that he wasn’t expecting to receive.

(Maybe it was the way that you were attuned to him—the things he would brush over in favor of his other obligations—that these feelings started developing.)

One good turn deserves another, doesn’t it? 

He made sure to return these gestures, under the guise of offering a helping hand. (Jamil doesn’t mention aloud how it almost felt natural to work side-by-side with you.)

People just sort of…assumed you were already together. So it wasn’t really a surprise when the both of you decided to make the relationship official. 

Which was good, the both of you were already left to your own discretion. Save for the initial embarrassment that came with breaking the news, it was good.

Nothing much changed, outwardly. You saw each other whenever your schedules allowed for it (usually at Scarabia).

The most important thing was being able to spend time together. To share in these brief idle moments where the both of you weren’t busy with your responsibilities for the day.

That doesn’t mean he was free of those—little insecurities—worming their way into his thoughts.

He asks you, “doesn’t it get boring, being with me?” Waiting for Jamil to finish cleaning up, to finish making his final checks around the dorm.

“No, not at all.” You shake your head, before adding, “I’d be fine as long as I get to see you.”

Jamil ignores how that simple admission makes his heart skip a beat. Playing off his fluster with a roll of his eyes. “So you’d be fine with exchanging greetings and moving on for the rest of your day? That’s nice to know.”

Your expression doesn’t change. Though you take a few seconds to formulate a response. “I suppose I’d be fine, I mean—I don’t want to get in the way of your work,” you say.

“Though I would… miss you terribly,” you add as an afterthought. And you have the audacity to sound bashful.

The only reaction you would notice is the brief moment his eyes widen in surprise and the reflexive twitch of his hand itching to tug on the drawstrings of his hoodie.

Okay, maybe that was his cue to stop fussing over work for today. 

Quality time together was different in the privacy of Jamil’s room. At least, in here, he felt free enough to be less guarded. To hold you close and to return your affections in full.

(For just a moment, he was free to shed his facade as a retainer.)

One thing to know about Jamil Viper: he is touch-starved.

Grown up too fast, taught to care for another over himself, resigned to his fate—no matter how much he rationalized it, these long-ingrained thoughts would reach a point where it became overwhelming.

So when you welcome him into your arms, whenever you sit close together, or when he lets you undo his braids, it all melts away with your touch.

When you ask him for help with a difficult problem in your coursework, he is absolutely draping himself over you and leaning against your shoulder.

When there’s soft music playing in the background, he is absolutely resting his hands on your waist as you sway in time with the beat.

And when you’re staying over for the night (an increasing occurrence), he’s absolutely trapping hugging you in his arms.

(Or just hug him instead. He won’t admit it aloud, but he likes the feeling of security that being the little spoon brings.)

It’s almost… strange how calm his thoughts run when you’re cuddled against him, resting your head against the top of his chest.

Tentatively, Jamil reaches a hand out. The tips of his fingers grazing against the curve of your cheek. At the contact, you meet his eyes. Wide, anticipating, trusting.

He lightly pinches the skin in between his fingers. It's irritatingly endearing how you watch him with that look.

The gesture elicits a short laugh from you and you lean into his palm. The action reminds him of an affectionate cat.

But it’s this—the gentle press of your lips against his skin, a gesture so light and faint—that it sets his nerves alight, that it makes his heart somersault.

“What are you doing?” Code for: why are you suddenly being this bold?

“Nothing, I just…love your hands,” you reply without missing a beat. 

Your next kiss is pressed against the back of Jamil’s fingers, atop another faint scar. “They’re pretty. Like you,” you say, while cradling his hand in your palms.

“Flatterer.” But he makes no move to pull away from you.

Instead of growing shy, you press another kiss to his inner wrist. “It’s true though. Every part of you is pretty.”

Jamil doesn’t know what to say in response. He’s watching you, trying not to shiver as you tuck a lock of his hair behind his ear.

A gentle kiss to his neck, the side of his jaw, atop his nose, against his cheek, the corner of his mouth—

Is this what you’re holding yourself back from, whenever you saw each other during the day?

You never ran out of heartfelt praises, but hearing them—whispered softly into his skin, accompanied with your earnest gaze—was a different matter altogether.

(It’s nice to have someone put away his doubts.)

But don’t think that Jamil would take all of this lying down.

The moment you meet his lips, he’s cupping the back of your head, savoring the surprised noise you make and drawing out the kiss for longer.

After all, it’s only fair that he gets to be affectionate with you too, right?

A/N: lowkey got a bit paranoid to throw this ramble in a reblog so i decided to improv a bit and make this its own post HUHUHUHU NE WAY the key takeaway here is that jamil viper should be the little spoon more!! he deserves to be held!!!!! aaagh!!!! i have one more draft to chip away at.... let's hope i get to post it during this month....(or next month knowing how my uni sched is getting a bit more busy) 🥴🥴title is from this song, hahaha help i have too many feelings. tagging my fellow jamil simp hi lods hihi😇😇: @merotwst

[trellia]

I think this post is a long time coming. But also, maybe 1 - someone has pointers to help and 2 - maybe someone else is struggling similarly and would like to know said pointers too.

I have been quite the recluse the past few months. From everyone, really. Why that is why I’m making this post. If you feel like I’ve been drawing away, you’re not wrong. I have. I’ve not been doing too good since… I’d say October. A lot of events have turned my world around for one, realizing what I am living in and not what I thought I was living in. That was something on its own…. At the same time, I was going through the steps to figure out if I have ADHD. I found out a couple months ago that yes, indeed, I do have ADHD.

The diagnosis was first a relief: finally, I now know there’s nothing wrong with me, I’m just wired different. However, relief soon turned into contempt. I became very, very angry. I am very angry. I just reached my 40’s. For at least 35+ years, I’ve been degraded and hurt by the people who should have protected me, understood me, especially in my childhood. Teachers, principals and parents of other children took part in this bullying campaign their children had going, only because I wasn’t following the ‘norms’. I endured trauma so great that I can barely function today.

I mean, I look at the videos of my childhood and I see it immediately: I’m not like the other kids. I’m more hyper, excited, and I just want everyone to take part in the fun, but I’m too much for it. It’s right there. I was called names by adults, and scolded for not doing things the way neurotypical people would. I was called lazy. I was told I don’t care for anyone but myself when, in fact, I have always put everyone ahead of me because I would rather see them happy than be happy myself. So you can imagine how difficult it was to hear that I am selfish and don’t care for anyone else…

I’m also angry at the current people in my life. Some of which have told me to ‘fix’ myself because I was an inconvenience they didn’t want to deal with. So I tried EVERY way to do so, and of course that didn’t work because I was trying to put bandaids on symptoms rather than help with what was the actual problem, but then when I asked for help, I was shunned away like I didn’t deserve it. I lost an entire decade (my late 20’s and my 30’s) asking myself what the hell is wrong with me, why am I such a terrible person, and why can’t I do anything right, and spending my 30’s walking on eggshells everywhere AND in the rpc because I was connection deprived and needed everyone to love me, which led to nefarious people taking advantage and hurt me further. (that’s a post for another day.)

Now here’s the main problem: I’m so angry I want to hurt someone. Not physically, but in every other way. It doesn’t matter who you are, I just want to lash out, whoever you are, friend or otherwise. An example: a friend made a new original character that is actually perfectly fine and pretty good, it’s a great OC! — but inside all I want to do is destroy that break their love for the OC and ruin it for them. Just… because. And that’s NOT okay. The good news is that I see it, I realize it. Which is why I have isolated myself. None of my friends deserve this. But I am angry. I am enraged, because I feel I’ve lost most of my life ‘fixing’ myself until I masked so hard I didn’t even realize until it slipped at 28. I know exactly when it slipped too.

Also, considering the kind of world we live in, I feel like I’ve lived past the mid-mark of my life. I’m not sure I’ll live up to 50 at this point. And it’s not fair. It’s not fair at all that I had to go through all this and still suffer. So yes, I’m very angry. But I also don’t WANT to hurt anyone. Especially not the people I care for… This is why I have not been on disco.rd. I have removed FB (because I wanted to for a long time tho lol ), tiktok… And have mostly removed myself from public spaces.

If you have pointers or ideas on how to get past that anger, please, please share. I don’t really know what to do with it. I don’t know how to tame it. And it scares me tbh. I don’t want to be like this. This isn’t me… but it’s so hard not to be angry…

So… yah: if I don’t respond on disco or otherwise, or not right away, it’s not you, I’m the one stepping away so I won’t say something I really don’t mean just for the sake of harming someone because I can’t accept what has been done to me.

If you read this far, thank you. Otherwise, here’s the jinx of it:

tldr; I was officially diagnosed with ADHD and realized I’ve been treated terribly by my peers because of it and shunned away when I asked for help, so now I’m extremely angry at everything and want to hurt someone (anyone) though I don’t really want to. How do I get over this?

[artist-issues]

How do you feel about Once Upon a Time? Just how the story and characters were, how they interacted with each other?

”Just” that?

I watched OUAT as it was coming out before my formal education, before the critical part of me got fed and became the insatiable beast you see before you. So. I really liked the first season. Really liked it.

I loved how every week the gimmick was “figure out what fairy tale this modern-day character is from.” And I just accepted, at that point, that the Disney version of every fairy tale was the template. So that made it way more interesting that they would focus on characters like Jiminy Cricket, or The Huntsman.

And I thought the character interactions in the first season were excellent. Especially between the Evil Queen and basically any other character. What was odd, looking back at it, was that the modern-day interactions seemed too dramatic, while the fairy-tale conversations seemed too modern. But in that way, they like…made up for each other.

I’m trying to remember specific interactions that I loved. The ones that hit the best were the ones that had to do with Henry, to be honest with you. Not necessarily the interactions between Henry and other characters; more like the interactions between characters like Regina and Emma, or Archie, where Henry was the topic.

I don’t know, I’d have to go back and rewatch it. I’d love to give you a semi-critical, semi-appreciative post, but it’s just been a long time.

The best of Once Upon a Time was when fairy tale characters were having to remember who they were before they got stuck in a modern time-loop. Not their literal fairy-tale history, but the essence of who they were. It makes the whole show feel like a character-analysis of fairy tale favorites. You know, like when Archie was having to remember all over again that he’s not just a sounding-board for a troubled boy—he’s a conscience. He’s supposed to be giving input that helps, not saving his own skin.

Or when poor Snow and Charming have to keep remembering that their superpower, as people, was how much faith they had in one another…as hard as that is to do when you’re David the Unhappily Married and Mary Margaret the Passive. Or jeez, when minor fairy tale characters like The Huntsman have to basically remember that they’re compassionate, tender-hearted people—the kind of people who would let a princess go simply because she’s too innocent and pure to murder, even if it’s to save his own skin.

I don’t think, looking back, that it always accurately analyzed the old fairy tale. They get Cinderella wrong. They try to make her remember that “when the world tries to tell you who you are, you gotta punch back” and that’s…just not something any version of Cinderella would ever do, or needs to learn. Or as great as “Regina” is as a character, she’s not an accurate analysis of The Evil Queen like Archie or Charming are…that kind of thing.

But honestly, they replaced the previous fairy tales’ message with ones that still…worked, if you tilted your head and squinted, so I don’t mind. I don’t mind that the Beast is actually Rumpelstiltskin, or that Red Riding Hood is a werewolf, or whatever.

What I did mind, as early as Season 2, was that the story started not being that much of a story anymore. It just started being lazy name-dropping and meaningless one-liner writing and the same old character beats over and over again. Some episodes still shone. But most were really terrible. They would forget what some characters had already learned, and try to teach them totally opposite lessons…I don’t know. Again, it’s been a long time.

Sorry I don’t have much more to say than that! Maybe if you ask anything more specific it’ll get my wheels turning? My favorite character was Graham the huntsman, I do remember that.

[autistic-ben-tennyson]

PoE: Actual Thoughts

This is going to be my last post regarding the discourse that I was responsible for starting. A lot of people probably think I hate the movie and am Lily Orchard 2.0 because of what those like spot-the-antisemitism claim. I’ll be leaving my actual opinions on it as well as the fandom and why I don’t love it as much as I used to. Contrary to what Zionists like Emperorsfoot claim, I can think for myself and have my own beliefs.

TPoE used to be one of my favorite movies. I wrote an essay back in 9th grade encouraging people to watch it because it had great music, great animation and an emotional story one could appreciate regardless of their religious beliefs. I still think it’s a good piece of filmmaking and has its place in theological and historical discussions. James Baxter worked on some of the animation sequences and would later create iconic moments from shows like Adventure Time and Steven Universe.

So what’s the problem? Well, the reason my opinion towards has soured is multifaceted. Being an anime fan has played a role in me seeing it as just another movie as opposed to the greatest animated film ever due to watching movies such as Spirited Away, Suzume or The End of Evangelion. Its fandom is another thing I dislike. Some say you can’t let fandom ruin something for you but if a majority of the people in a fandom are jerks, then it’s valid to not want to engage.

While it was wrong for me to call it “Zionist propaganda”, I have gotten anon hate from its stans including suicide bait. So many of the people in the notes of the post as well as the OP were either transphobic radtrads like griseldafury21, “vote blue no matter what” liberals like Short-wooloo or all the fandom Zionists like Prismatic-bell. YouTube comments are full of “anti woke” creationists using it to trash modern Hollywood, which is terrible but not for the reasons they claim. Liberal Zionists do use it to support their view of themselves as perpetual victims who can do no wrong. Killing people is okay as long as they’re oppressive in their eyes, whether Egyptian or Palestinian.

So maybe I do dislike it but not because I think it’s a bad movie or propaganda, but because it’s fandom has soured me towards it. One could certainly use its liberation message as a commentary on the oppression of Palestinians but that probably won’t get any support from the movie’s top fans. The behavior of the hardcore fans is what has turned me off to it, especially their concern trolling over gofundme scams. Same reason why I’ve been less enthusiastic towards Steven Universe. Still has a place in my heart and was a big factor in my anime obsession but the amount of fans who are racist milquetoast liberals has pushed me away from the fandom. I don’t single out Jews for being Zionists either. I would be disappointed if Rebecca Sugar supported Israel but I’d feel the same about Makoto Shinkai, Hideaki Anno or Dwayne McDuffie, if he was still alive, and others I admire. I judge people based on their actions and principles, not their religion or ethnicity.

So that’s what I actually think of the movie and it’s fans. Some of the songs like “When you believe” are pretty emotional and as someone with a complicated relationship with my brother, the conflict between Moses and Ramses does get a tear out of me, even if that’s not what happened in the Bible. I still have fondness for it, but many of its hardcore fans have ruined it and people’s lack of willingness to criticize any aspect is disappointing. Criticizing it or SU does not make someone Lily Orchard or Lindsay Ellis as people can develop their own opinions without influence. The Prince of Egypt is a great work of art in my opinion but it’s not above criticism and the way people use it as well as other “wholesome” media as a shield should be talked about more.

[fratboykate]

Hi again,

I’ve loved the angst of Kate and Yelena dealing with Tom’s temper tantrums. I am curious of Kate and Yelena’s early relationship though. Like if Kate didn’t know she was a lil fruity when was her first gay panic moment after her and Yelena first started being more than friendly? Was Kate like “shit…am I gay for this little Russian grinch” or was she just chill with it and like “okay… so apparently I like women now.” I guess I’m asking was she in an experimental phase that turned into not a phase or was it like she was low key always curious about dining at the Y. Like in my head cannon I can totally see Kate calling Suze or Greer and being like “help…I think I’m gay” after a long day of flirting with Yelena and a somewhat naughty dream starring Yelena shattering Kate’s back🤭

p.s. this is the same 2 barbie’s/ken scenario anon

---

Yelena’s such a grump! Honey you’ve got a big storm coming. I’m loving this early dynamic between them though! Would love to know who initiated/ finally made the moves on the other?

///

Here's 8.3k of what happens not too long after Yelena's birthday. I'd say within a few days. Mild sin included lol. This is this long and it's 90% dialogue. Imagine if I fully wrote this out like I did CFAU or even the AO3 KYAU chapters? It'd be like 20k 🤓

---

Yelena buzzes around the kitchen, gearing up to make herself a post-workout smoothie. Her skin is still damp and covered in a thin layer of semi-dry sweat, strands of her hair spill out of her messy braid, and she wears nothing but a sports bra and matching Jiu-Jitsu spats. 

Yelena pours almond milk into the blender when she’s interrupted by thumping on her door. For an instant, she considers ignoring it. That would mean pretending she’s not home, but that seems short-sighted when she’s seconds away from running a blender within earshot of the door. 

Yelena grunts and stomps to the entrance, knowing only one of two people could be on the other side. She swings the door open to predictably find an upbeat Kate resting her shoulder against the doorjamb with a silly grin on her face.

“Hi.”

“What do you want?”

“Sometimes a ‘hello’ goes a long way, you know that?” Yelena stares at her impassively, not giving Kate an inch, but Kate is not playing her game today. She’s going to force Yelena into small talk because she now knows for a fact that Yelena is perfectly capable of being pleasant. Kate takes in Yelena’s appearance - the disheveled look, the sweat, the fitted clothes - and decides to pursue that angle. “You were working out?”

“Just got back from the academy?” Kate looks stumped. “Jiu-Jitsu.”

“No clue what that is.”

“Martial arts thing. Doesn’t matter. What do you want, Kate?”

“Ohhh...she has hobbies! Is it like a fighting thing?”

“Yes. What. Do. You. Want? I’m closing this door in fifteen seconds if you don’t tell me.”

“You’re impossible...I have a big work thing. Fundraising gala for our national trade org. Fancy schmancy dinner. Open bar. Don’t worry about the expensive tickets. I already made my mom pay for those. It’s her charitable deduction for the month. Thing is…I have two of those tickets…”

“No.”

Kate presses forward.

“…I HAVE TWO TICKETS and my friend who was supposed to go with me just came down with strep. All my other friends have plans tonight. I already have a sitter and it would look REALLY bad to have an open seat at our table.”

“I don’t do…social things…people.”

“It’s for charity.”

“You said you already paid for the tickets. Charity was already made. Who cares if the seat is open?”

“Half of charity work is optics. Photographers are there. Photos go out to donors and press. They want to see overflowing events so that more people want to go to their next events. Vicious cycle.”

“No.”

“It’s free food and drinks…and I’d like to think not terrible company.”

“You’ve lived in New York your entire life. I’m sure you have other people you can call. Good night, Kate.”

Yelena shuts the door in Kate’s face.

—

Not five minutes later, another knock interrupts Yelena’s highly anticipated smoothie time. Yelena opens the door halfway through an eye roll seeing as she's fully expecting Kate again, but, to her surprise, it's the little one.

“Mommy’s on the phone with Suzu and she says she asked you to come to a party with her and you said no. Why did you tell my mommy no?”

“Ereka, that’s none of your business. Go home.”

“Why did you say no?”

“Who’s Suzu anyway?”

“My mommy’s big sister. Like I'll be when I get a little sister.”

“Why is she telling her sister that she asked me to come to this party?”

“She was asking my Suzu too, but she can’t come to the party. Why can’t you come?”

“Because I’m busy.”

“With what?”

“Things.”

“What things?”

“You said your mom was on the phone. Does she know you’re out here?”

“No.”

“Go back. Go. I’ll watch you and make sure you close the door.”

“Not until you say yes to go with my mommy.”

“I’m busy!”

“I think you’re lying and mommy says lying is bad.”

“Ereka. Go. Home.”

“I go home if you say yes.”

“Why is a five-year-old trying to blackmail me?”

"What does blackmail mean?"

"What you're trying to do right now."

They scowl at each other in silence for a beat, sizing the other up.

“Can we make a deal?”

“I’m not making deals with preschoolers.”

“You have to go with my mommy.”

“Why are you so intent on me going to this party?”

“Can you keep a secret?”

“Depends.”

“I can’t tell you if you won’t keep it.”

“I won’t keep it if it’s illegal or dangerous to keep it.”

Ereka huffs.

“Miss Mary falls asleep on the couch almost right as my mommy leaves. If I move the breakfast chair in front of the fridge really quiet, I can climb it and get to the cookies mommy hides up there. I’ve been wanting cookies all day. If you don’t go with my mommy, then she’s going to stay home and I won’t get cookies, so I need you to go with her.”

Yelena makes a concerted effort to remain stoic, but after about ten seconds, she cracks and smiles.

“You want me to say yes to going to a party only so you can Oceans Eleven yourself some cookies while your babysitter sleeps? I will get you cookies myself if I don’t have to go to this thing.”

“My mommy won’t let you. You have to go…I’ll save you some. As payment.”

“EREKA!” Kate scrambles out the door, panicked, the phone still glued to her ear, to find the two blondes chatting at Yelena’s door. “How the hell did you get out?! Get back here right now! What is wrong with you?!”

Before Ereka can incriminate herself, Yelena perplexingly steps in to defend her.

“She didn’t. Get out, I mean.”

“What?…Suze, I’ll call you back.”

“I knocked. To…” Yelena glances down at the kid, already regretting the words about to leave her mouth. “…let you know I changed my mind. I’ll come tonight.”

“Yessssssssss.” Ereka quietly rejoices.

“She told me you were busy on the phone and would pass on the message, then offered to escort me back to my place.”

Kate squints her eyes, struggling to believe this whole scenario, but choosing to let it be.

“Right…We have to leave by six fifteen. Gala starts at seven. Ri, come on. I need to get ready.” Ereka runs off and past her mother into their apartment. Kate lingers. “Thank you.”

Yelena offers a single, firm nod before disappearing back into hers.

—

Fifteen minutes later, Ereka entertains herself in front of the bathroom mirror, messing about with Kate’s makeup while the older woman hums a tune in the shower. There’s a knock on Kate’s door.

“Someone’s knocking on the door, mommy.”

“Don’t open it! Ask who it is.” Ereka jumps off the counter and out of the bathroom. After a beat of silence, Ereka runs back into the bathroom. “It’s Yelena.”

“Are you sure?”

“She says it’s her and it sounded like her.”

Kate wavers for a moment while thinking.

“You can open the door. Ask her what she needs.”

Without hesitation, Ereka bolts toward the front of the apartment. After another long pause, Ereka returns to the bathroom.

“She says she needs to talk to you.”

“About what?”

Ereka runs off again and is back shortly.

“She says she has nothing to wear to a ’schwancy wancy’ thing.”

Kate chuckles. 

“Tell her I’ll be right out.”

“Okay!”

Ereka rushes out the door once more. 

—

Moments later, Kate steps out to the living room, dripping wet and wearing no more than a minuscule towel wrapped around her torso that barely covers the important bits. She finds Yelena and Ereka engrossed in one of the little girl’s didactic games. The scenario makes Kate involuntarily smile. 

“I hear you have a fashion emergency?”

Yelena looks up, ready to make a snarky quip, but her words get caught in her throat and her hands become clammy when she takes in the sight of Kate in the towel.

“Uhm…sorry…I…uh…forgot I already had most of my stuff shipped out. My formal clothes are in some container crossing the ocean right now. I don’t have anything to wear.”

Kate gives Yelena a thorough once-over. Her eyes study Yelena with such assiduous detail that it eventually makes Yelena squirm.

“I should have options for you.”

“Kate…you’re so much taller than me.”

“Lucky for you, I like short things.” The women internally wince when they realize those words come across much flirtier than they initially intended to. “They’ll look right on you.”

Kate glosses right past it and Yelena is thankful for it. 

“I…uhm…don’t typically…” Yelena searches for the right words. “I don’t think our styles overlap very much.”

“Oh, come on. You can pull off a dress. It’s one night.”

“I can wear them. I know how to. I simply prefer not to.”

“I think it’s not a matter of preferences tonight, is it?” Kate saunters into her bedroom. “Let’s see what we can find.”

Shortly afterward, when Yelena hasn't walked in behind her, Kate steps back into the living room.

"Are you like a vampire? Do I have to outright invite you into rooms before you walk inside?"

"I figured you needed to put clothes on..."

"If you prefer I put clothes on now, I can. I think it'd be more efficient if we find you something to wear and then you can go shower."

"Sure. If you're fine, I'm good. I'm good."

"You can come in." Kate makes a point of saying.

"For the record, if there wasn't a child in the immediate vicinity, I'd be flipping you off."

Kate chuckles.

"Good to know."

---

The pair make their way into Kate's sweeping walk-in closet. Ereka darts in after them.

"Oh..."

"Yeah, I have a bit of a problem." Kate turns to Ereka. "No. No no. Out. You're only going to get in the way and we're in a rush. Go read something. Out."

"A bit?"

Kate closes the closet door, leaving a pouting Ereka standing behind it.

"Stop. What's your cup size?" Yelena gapes at her. "Why are you looking at me like I'm some creep catcalling you from a corner? We're standing in my closet, trying to find you something to wear. This is 'need to know' info."

"B." Kate’s eyebrows shoot up, incredulous. Yelena rolls her eyes. "They can be! Depending on the bra. Shut up...You need me to go to this thing, remember?"

"I said nothing."

Kate scans the dozens upon dozens of pieces in her wardrobe.

"How tall?"

"Five foot five." Kate pivots to look at her with a cocked eyebrow. "What are you? A lie detector machine?"

"What are you? A man? I have eyes! Tell me for real!"

"Five foot three."

"We're getting somewhere. Shoe size?"

"Six."

"Okay. Can't help you there. I'm a ten. We'll figure it out."

"What were you thinking in terms of look?"

"What do you mean?"

"Make-up?"

"Zero?"

"What I heard was 'bit of a soft smokey eye in metal and a bold red lip'. Got it. Genius. I was thinking the exact same thing."

"Kate......"

"Shhh...I'm working here."

Kate begins pulling items from the racks and setting them down on the center island while Yelena watches on, increasingly horrified.

"No...No...Absolutely not...No...Never...Kate, no."

Kate lifts a gold sequin-covered gown with a plunging v-neckline and a risque thigh-high slit. She holds it up next to Yelena for a beat, then nods.

"This one."

"No! Look at the cleavage on that thing."

"It'll look great on you."

"I said no."

"I said yes...we need a tiebreaker." Kate declares as she heads for the closet door.

"No, we don't? That's not how this works?"

"Ri, I need you! Fast!"

Ereka speeds over and into the closet.

"What, mommy?"

Kate holds the dress up under Yelena’s neck to give Ereka the most accurate visual possible.

"What do you think?"

"OOOOOOOOOOOH, SO PRETTY AND SHINY! YOU LOOK LIKE A PRINCESS!"

"Is that a 'yes' to the dress from you?"

"Yes! Yes! Yes!"

"Two to one. Democracy in action." Kate tells Yelena nonchalantly while hanging the dress on a hook next to the full-body mirror. "You need to go shower right now. Don't put anything on your face and come back. I'll do your make-up."

"NO! No dress, no make-up."

"OOOOH, MAKE-UP PARTY! YES YES! WE'RE GONNA HAVE A MAKE-UP PARTY!" Ereka scuttles between the two excitedly.

"You already agreed to come."

"Maybe I'll change my mind."

"You can't do that!" Ereka tells the older blonde firmly. "You made a promise and breaking promises is bad."

"What she said." Kate backs her daughter up. Yelena stares at the women and then stomps off in a huff. "Be back here in no more than forty-five! Hair done! It'll look better up with that dress!"

Kate hears her door slam.

"I don't think she likes the dress too much, mommy."

"I don't know...I don't know.”

“She's very grumpy too."

"VERY GRUMPY, baby.”

“But I like her, mommy. Grumpy and all."

"Yeah. We like her. Grumpy and all...Are you gonna help me pick a dress too?!"

"YESSSSSSS!"

Kate commences selecting pieces from the racks for herself this time and Ereka offers detailed feedback on each along the way.

---

An hour and a half later, Kate and Ereka sit on Kate's bed, facing the closet with anticipation. Kate is dressed in a figure-hugging black gown and her hair is down, styled to look like an effortlessly slicked-back center part. Shimmery eyes and a bright red lip round out the outfit. 

"Coming out at some point before next year would be great. We have to leave in ten minutes and I still have to call the car."

"Kate, I hate this." Yelena gripes from inside the closet.

"I'm sure you look fine." Yelena doesn’t answer and there’s no sound of movement inside the closet. "Any day now. We should..."

Yelena testily swings the door open and Kate's words get caught in her throat there and then.

"WOOOOOOOOOWWWWWWWW!!!! SO PRETTY!" Ereka exclaims as she hops off the bed and runs around Yelena to look at her from all angles. "YOU LOOK LIKE A REAL-LIFE SUPER PRINCESS!"

"Kate, I look ridiculous."

Kate shakes her head.

"No."

"I do."

"You look beautiful." Kate half mutters, marveling at the sight in front of her.

Yelena would love to prevent the rush of blood she feels forcing its way up to her face, but unfortunately for her, she's yet to learn how to master her body’s involuntary reactions. Her only alternative is to deflect. 

"Don't we have to leave?"

Yelena does her best to redirect, forcing Kate to snap out of her mild trance.

"Yeah...yeah. I'll call the car."

"Are you and mommy going to dance tonight?"

"I don't dance."

"Mommy likes to dance."

"Good for her."

"Mommy, you should ask Yelena to dance."

"Car will be here in two." Kate squats down to chat with her daughter at eye level. "I think we gotta take it easy on her. Dancing might be one step too far today." Kate smiles and steals a glance at Yelena before kissing Ereka's forehead. "I want you in bed right when Miss Mary tells you to. Not a minute after. I want to get zero complaints when I get back, okay?"

"What if I'm not tired? Can I wait for you if I'm not?"

"You better start tiring yourself out now then, because you're going to bed and your butt better be in bed when I get home."

"So unfair."

"UGH! Worst mom ever. How dare she not let you stay up until all hours?” Kate smiles at her daughter, who rolls her eyes. “I have to go. Be good, please. I love you."

Kate forces an over-the-top smooch onto Ereka’s cheek. The little girl “yucks” and wipes her skin with her open palm.

"I love you too. Even when you lick me and try to control me."

Kate chuckles.

"Licking and controlling are the two most important tasks parents have, Ri." Kate looks at her phone then turns to Yelena. "One minute. We should start heading down."

Yelena nods.

"Hey," Ereka whispers and beckons Yelena down to her height with her index finger. She brings her tiny hand to cup Yelena's ear in an attempt to speak to her in secret. "I'll save you two cookies. An extra one because you look really, really pretty."

Yelena can't help but smile.

"No need."

"I will. I'll give them to you tomorrow."

"What are you two whispering about?"

"Mommies don't need to know everything friends talk about."

"Kid has a point. I’m invoking our attorney-client privilege." Yelena backs her up.

"You two are trouble. Car's here. Your plotting will have to wait for another time."

Ereka wraps her arms around Yelena's neck, giving her a warm hug. Yelena reciprocates.

"Have fun. Don't forget my mommy likes to dance."

"Good night, kid."

Kate rushes into the room and yanks Yelena by the hand.

"So slow!"

"I was coming!"

"Not fast enough. Night, Mary. We'll be home by one."

"Ten." Yelena refutes.

"One," Kate confirms as she yanks Yelena out the door.

Ereka chases them to the door.

"I love you the most!" Ereka screams at her mother as the elevator door closes.

"I love you the mostest!" Kate yells back.

(NOTE: For reference, Kate is wearing that black dress/overall look from the “Capital Letters” music video. And Yelena’s look is the 2020 Vanity Fair After Party look. Pics below.)

---

The gala is in full swing. Kate is deep in conversation with the person sitting next to her. On the other hand, Yelena has yet to speak to anyone except for uttering a handful of words to Kate and speaking her order to the bartender. She savors her drink and surveys the event space, making mental judgments of all the guests.

"Socializing is a vital part of the human experience, you know?"

Kate tells her in a hushed tone with a soft smile.

"I told you I didn't do parties."

"Well, you're at one, so...can't you just enjoy it?"

"No."

Kate laughs.

"You're a hard nut to crack."

"Have you considered that maybe I don't want cracking?"

"I think you certainly tell yourself that."

Yelena glares icily at her, pushes her chair back, then stands.

"I'm getting another drink."

---

Yelena sulks at the bar while waiting for the bartender to approach her.

"I'm not trying to annoy you."

Yelena looks over her shoulder to find Kate standing behind her.

"Could've fooled me."

"Is the only way to get you to be nice to call you out when you're being a dick then feed you mac and cheese? Because one: you're being a dick. And two: I will talk to a waiter and see if we can score you some if I need to...I had a good time the other night. I know you're capable of smiling and laughing. I've seen it with my own eyes."

"Kate, what do you want from me?"

"Right now? For you to relax."

"I am relaxed."

Yelena grits through her teeth and scowls, then turns back to the bar, desperately trying to get the bartender's attention. Kate chuckles.

"Oh yeah, chillest person in this room." Kate steps forward, stands next to Yelena at the counter, brings her index finger to the older woman’s chin and pulls it, turning Yelena's head and making their eyes meet. "Give me an hour to prove you could be having fun. Say 'yes' to everything I say for an hour."

"No."

"Failing the exercise already."

"I'm not doing that."

"Are you allergic to fun? What did you and your sister do together? I'm sure you guys had fun."

"Keep my sister out of this. I'm plenty fun."

"Life of the party...An hour." Kate extends her hand, waiting for Yelena to shake it. "Are you this much of a baby that you won't leave your comfort zone for an hour?" 

Yelena lours at Kate. She is certain Kate is purposefully trying to push her buttons now...yet, for some reason, she acquiesces.

"An hour. Within reason. Nothing illegal or too crazy."

"What if we have different definitions of illegal?" Kate fires back with a smirk.

"There's only one definition. Take it or leave it."

Kate extends her hand again for Yelena to shake. Yelena looks at the hand, then at Kate and after a beat, she takes firm hold of it and shakes it. When they do, Kate hits the lock screen on her phone to look at the time.

"You're mine to do as I please until 8:52 PM."

They tense up when they realize the potential for misconstruing the statement as innuendo...but before they can dwell, the bartender approaches.

"What can I get you, ladies?"

"Four shots of tequila, please." Kate rushes to say before Yelena can speak. As Yelena is about to start protesting, Kate lifts her finger and stops her in her tracks. "Ahhhh…can't say no. We just made a deal."

Yelena grunts.

"That's not illegal, but it's certainly irresponsible."

"Live a little."

Moments later, the bartender returns with the shots as well as limes and salt on a tea plate and places them across from the two women.

"Bottoms up, council." Kate urges Yelena as she downs her first shot. Yelena gawks at her. "Come on! You're on my clock here. Move it." Defiant, Yelena slams back the first shot and immediately takes the second. She grimaces. "That's more like it!" Kate kills her remaining shot, interlocks her arm with Yelena's and drags her away from the bar. "We'll be back for more in a second."

"Where are we going now?" Kate's face lights up with a devilish smile as she heads for the dance floor. "No. Nu-uh. Kate..."

"Those words are out of your vocabulary for the time being."

"Kate, I don't dance."

"You do tonight."

Kate forces her way past the crowd and drags Yelena to the center of the dance floor. Once there, Kate begins swaying to the music the DJ plays. Yelena stands stiffly. When Yelena doesn't move, Kate brings her hands to Yelena's hips, trying to coax them into rocking along to the beat. Their eyes meet. There are no reasons this should be as intimate when there are hundreds of people around, but it undeniably is. 

"Come on...I know you're not as much of a robot as you try to make it seem. Feel it."

The last two words slip out barely above a murmur. Kate's hands remain on Yelena's hips while she takes a step closer, making the distance between them damn near nonexistent. Something about Kate being this far into her space fogs up Yelena's mind and before she knows it, her hips follow Kate's lead.

"See? Not too bad." Kate encourages her.

The music transitions to an even more uptempo song and Kate ensures they match the beat to this as well. For a moment - more like three consecutive songs - it's only them in this room. Kate's hands on Yelena's hips, their eyes on each other, breaths on their skin, and bodies in sync. They could've stayed that way all night had they not been interrupted.

"Kate! I thought that was you!"

Kate and Yelena are snapped out of their trance by another woman on the dance floor. The intruder has a handful of friends with her and what was a private, lust-filled bubble for two becomes a wide circle of yappy, gyrating, drunk women. Kate senses Yelena tense up beside her and, without thought, she brings her hand to hold Yelena's. Their fingers intertwine while Kate has small talk with the woman who approaches her.

"The infamous Kate Bishop in the flesh. What are you up to?! Where have you been hiding?"

"It's been a crazy, busy year. I made VP and my accounts have pretty much tripled. I’m drowning half the time."

"Oh my god, congrats! I didn't hear about that."

"Yeah. Thank you! It wasn't too long ago. Happened at the top of the summer and..." Kate feels Yelena pull on her hand, trying to get away. Kate holds on tighter and runs her thumb over Yelena’s skin, soothing. "...I haven't exactly had time to celebrate. It was so nice to catch up, but we were on our way to the bar. Let's get drinks on the books. Have your assistant call mine."

"Of course, yeah! Have fun tonight."

Kate turns and pulls Yelena behind her towards the bar, hands still locked together.

"Sorry. I didn't..."

"It's fine." Yelena hurries to divert. "You probably know everyone here."

"I wouldn't say everyone...99%?" Kate looks over at the shorter woman and grins. "More tequila?"

"That's a terrible idea, Kate."

"Which is exactly why we should do it."

They land at the bar and Kate orders four more shots.

"Four is unreasonable."

"I think you can handle it." Kate hasn't let go of Yelena's hand and continues to run lazy circles over her skin with her thumb. Kate turns to face the crowd. "Who do you think is the hottest guy here? Who'd you get wasted and take home tonight for a crazy, sloppy one-night stand?"

Yelena chuckles.

"Are your observation and deduction skills that poor?"

"What do you mean? Ohhhh...you want me to guess who you think is hot?"

Yelena laughs harder.

"We'd be here all night."

"Why?"

"Because I don't think any of these men are hot, Kate."

"A picky girl! I like it. Okay. What's your type then? There HAS to be someone in here that comes at least close."

"My type is ‘not men’."

"What...oh...OH..." Kate takes a step back, studying Yelena. After a beat, she nods. "No, yeah. That makes sense. It's all clicking now."

Yelena hangs her head back, laughing.

"Glad we got that sorted."

"But like...never? Not even once?"

Yelena shakes her head.

"Have never seen a penis in real life."

"God, I'm actually a little jealous. They're...kinda just...there...flapping around...being an inconvenience."

"Yup. Every word is making me gayer."

Kate surveys Yelena's face and notices her eyes becoming glassy due to the alcohol.

"We need to get some food and water in you. Let's go back to the table. They're serving dinner soon anyway."

Kate pulls Yelena's hand and guides them back to their seats.

"That might be the only good idea you've had tonight."

---

Kate and Yelena talk and stuff themselves full of bread while waiting for their full-course dinner to be served. A waiter drops by to offer the table drinks immediately before dinner is catered and, never knowing when to say no, Kate orders them a round. Yelena is thankful it’s at least a pair of cocktails, not shots.

They continue conversing about nothing and everything throughout their meal. Kate brazenly ignores her coworkers the entire time.

Once dessert makes its way to the diners, the DJ shifts from the mellow playlist guests could have a conversation over back to danceable jams. Before long, Kate is squealing and declaring something "her song" and forcing Yelena back onto the dance floor.

On this occasion, with alcohol and hormones coursing even more freely through their veins, Yelena doesn't resist when Kate eventually presses her back to Yelena's front and starts grinding against her. Yelena's hands find a home on Kate's hips and they move together. As one. They do this for another song before Kate turns to face Yelena. Kate places her elbows on Yelena's shoulders and wraps her arms behind her neck. Yelena's hands move from Kate's hips to the small of her back, right on the curve of her derriere. They're pressing themselves against boundaries at full tilt.

Kate brings her lips to Yelena's ear and her lips graze against the skin of Yelena’s earlobe as she speaks.

"I have to pee like a fucking racehorse." Yelena bursts out laughing. "I'll be right back." Before she pulls away, Kate's lips travel a few inches below Yelena’s ear and press a soft kiss on the woman’s cheek. "Thank you for coming tonight."

Yelena offers a firm nod and Kate disappears into the crowd.

With Kate gone, the illusion breaks and the reality of tonight...of the last couple of hours (because this has gone well and beyond the "one hour" deal by now)...smashes into the forefront of Yelena’s mind like a stray cannonball. Whereas it felt as if it were only the two of them in a room before, now it's back to Yelena being alone in a sea of strangers she has no interest in becoming familiar with. The dance floor becomes speedily suffocating and, before she knows it, Yelena is rushing to the table to snatch the bag with her phone and keys in it and flees.

---

The line to the women’s bathroom stretches down a hallway and wraps around a corner. Kate’s leg bounces impatiently whilst she waits near the end of the queue. Kate brings her manicured thumb to her mouth and begins to chew on it. Now that they’re apart, the veil of the alcohol-induced, nirvana-like state she’s been immersed in has lifted and all Kate is left with is the feeling of an anvil weighing her stomach down. 

What the hell? That is the one query that continually loops in Kate’s mind. Kate racks her brain, striving to figure out when and how her truculent temporary neighbor got under her skin like this. Did it start tonight? Have these feelings been simmering and only boiled over in the last few hours? Kate has an endless stream of questions - questions that can mostly be summarized as “Fuck fuck fuck what the fuck?” - but none that she thinks she’ll have an answer to by the time she gets to a stall. Particularly not when her brain keeps wandering to those moments on the dance floor when her body was pressed against Yelena’s and the woman’s hands were all over her. Those mental images are distracting and certainly not conducive to critical thinking during a seemingly impromptu life crisis. 

For now, all Kate can do is stew in her feelings and hope the rest of the night will further assist in her quest to find explanations. That, and bite her nails to keep her mind off how urgently she needs to empty her bladder.

---

It takes Kate longer to return than she would've liked; therefore, she doesn’t consider it exceedingly strange when she can’t spot Yelena on the dance floor. The blonde must have returned to the table and is waiting for her there. Kate arrives at her company’s table, but Yelena isn't anywhere to be found there either. That’s when Kate notices Yelena's bag is also missing. Kate digs through her purse, collects her phone, and texts her.

Nothing.

---

Half an hour later.

Kate stares at her phone, glaring at the message that has ostensibly merited no response from Yelena. More than worried, Kate feels herself growing angry. She has a fairly solid inkling of what happened and by no means is she allowing their night to end on this wretched note. Kate snaps her handbag up and storms to the entrance while calling a car.

---

The longer the car took to make its way to her building, the more livid Kate felt herself growing. Thus, it is no surprise to her when she finds herself hammering her fists against Yelena's door. To Kate’s satisfaction, she doesn’t have to stand there for long before Yelena stares back at her. 

"People are sleeping, Kate."

It’s clear the older woman has been home for some time, seeing as her face is washed, her hair is braided, and she’s now clad in sweats and a t-shirt. 

Kate barges into the apartment, explosively hurling her bag on the couch the moment she’s inside. 

"Where the hell did you go?"

Yelena points around her, as if stating, ‘here?...where you found me?’.

"You make it a habit of vanishing and abandoning all your dates at parties?"

"That wasn't a date, Kate. That was a kidnapping."

Kate paces in furious silence.

"Maybe not at first."

"Maybe not at first what?"

"A date...maybe it wasn't a date at first."

"Don't," Yelena replies angrily.

"Don't what?"

"Don't do that...the whole ambiguous-and-maybe-even-curious-but-really-straight girl game. It's sad."

"You're such a fucking prick. We had a great night, you got scared, bailed, and now you're trying to shit all over me so I leave. You're not super enigmatic and frigid. What you are is a really predictable coward and THAT is what’s a little sad. A lot sad."

"Get out. Get the fuck out."

Yelena pushes past Kate on her way to open the door and kicks Kate out, but Kate grabs her arm, pulls Yelena towards her, and into a torrid kiss. Kate ends the kiss yet doesn’t pull away. She holds Yelena’s face, keeping her in place, and presses their foreheads together.

"I should have more self-respect than to do the whole 'crush on and chase the one who’s mean to me’ thing, but...here I am." Kate chuckles and presses another soft kiss to Yelena’s lips. "There's more to the grump. I know it. I've seen it."

"Kate, get out. I'm not going to be the person you experiment with. Been there, done that, didn't end well for me."

Kate takes a step back, aggravated.

"Yeah, you're right. I've never been with a woman. I'd have a lot to learn. Learning doesn't mean I'd be "experimenting", at least not in the negative way you're trying to imply."

Yelena takes advantage of the fact that Kate has put distance between them and marches to the door, swinging it open while pointing outside.

"Go home to your kid."

"Is it this hard to admit that someone might actually give a fuck? Ignore me for a second. She adores you. You know that, right? Talks about you all day long. Is constantly looking for excuses to come and see you. I have to stop her all the time, or she would've moved in here by now. People care about you. She cares. I care. You make it hard but not impossible."

"I'm leaving. In November. I'm leaving."

"That's November. This is now."

"Nope. No. I don't work that way. I like plans and order and control."

"Life is messier than that."

"Kate..."

Kate closes the distance between them, slides Yelena’s hand off the doorknob, and pushes the door closed.

"Ignore November. Ignore anything outside that door. Right now, what do you want?"

"What I want right now will lead to chaos in the morning."

"Are you clairvoyant?"

"I'm smart."

"But not psychic. What if what you want right now simply leads to morning sex instead of chaos?"

"Because that's not how life works...not mine anyway."

Kate presses her body against Yelena's. Yelena initially tries to recoil, but, much like she did on the dance floor, Kate holds the sides of Yelena's shirt, by her hips, and settles her.

"What do you want right now?" Yelena doesn't respond. Kate leans her face closer, making her lips hover above Yelena's. "What do you want?"

"To fuck you."

Kate nods, smirks, and a soft ‘hmmm’ escapes her mouth.

"I want you to do that too."

Kate ghosts her lips over Yelena's.

"You're drunk, Kate."

"I'm really not. Buzzed at best. But turned on?...Definitely. And I want you to do something about it." Yelena doesn’t move or speak. "You really gonna make me beg?"

Yelena’s eyes shoot up to meet Kate’s. Kate grins when she sees the desire burning in them. 

"Maybe," Yelena states with an undertone of cockiness Kate hasn’t seen all night. 

"Please," Kate adds with zero hesitation.

"What if you wake up and regret it tomorrow?"

"I thought we were ignoring anything except right now."

"Humor me."

"I don't think you'll give me any reason to...but even if you do...what's the worst that can happen? You leave in November, remember? If it goes TERRIBLY WRONG tonight, then worst-case scenario is we have to awkwardly cross each other for a few more months in the hallway and then, that's it. Never see each other ever again...No downsides."

Yelena’s forest eyes study the azure in Kate’s, attempting to spot any hint of vacillation in them.

"What about Ereka? You said she's always looking..."

"You're overthinking it...and trying to find excuses that don't exist. Right now. You. Take what you want. It's already yours."

After a brief delay, Yelena joins her lips with Kate's in a searing kiss. Within seconds they're stumbling back to the bedroom while clothes are flying off.

---

Kate’s arm swats around the mattress, searching for the body that should be there but come across nothing. Her eyes flutter open and Kate lets the dismaying fact that she woke up to an empty bed sink in. She buries her face in the pillow, trying to shield the blinding sun rays from her eyes, and sighs. Then it hits her...the sun is out. She isn't home and the sun is out. OH FUCK.

Kate gets dressed in a hurry and sprints over to her apartment.

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

Instead of finding a disgruntled babysitter, what Kate comes across when she bursts in is Yelena and a cheerful Ereka making pancakes in the kitchen.

"What's going on?"

The sound of Kate’s voice makes Yelena look over her shoulder for a brief moment before turning her attention back to the pan.

"You slept in." Yelena casually responds.

"You left me. Alone." Kate admonishes her.

"I woke up after we...it was a little past one, so I ran over and relieved Mary. I figured you'd be up soon enough and crashed on the couch until you came. About an hour ago, I opened my eyes and her face was two inches from mine. I checked in. You were still asleep. Figured I'd let you sleep. She got hungry and I couldn't let her starve on my watch, so we're making food."

"We're making strawberry pancakes for you, mommy."

Kate softens up.

"I'm...I'm gonna brush my teeth and wash my face."

"Okay." Yelena turns to look at what Ereka is doing. "No! NO! Too many. That's waaay too many."

Yelena starts fishing out strawberries from the batter, now cooking on the hot pan.

"Yelena, can you come here, please?" Kate calls from her room.

"In the middle of something."

"I need you for a second."

Yelena turns off the burner and looks at Ereka seriously.

"DO NOT TOUCH IT. It's hot. You'll hurt yourself. You can't touch anything until I get back."

Yelena insists while heading towards Kate’s bedroom.

"I’m big! I can make pancakes on my own!"

"NO TOUCHING! I’ll be right back."

Ereka pouts and crosses her arms over her chest.

"FINE!"

---

Yelena enters Kate's room and finds the brunette waiting for her by the door. The moment Yelena steps in, Kate holds her face and kisses her.

"One: you should've woken me up." Kate kisses her again. "Two: Thank you for staying with her. It was...amazing. That has never happened before. I swear. I've never not come home when I say I will. I think your bed was so comfortable and it smelled like you and..."

Yelena kisses her to quiet her.

"You're a great mother, Kate Bishop. You deserved a late morning. It's fine. All I did was cross the hallway, freeze on your couch for a night, and make pancake batter this morning."

Kate laughs and pecks Yelena’s lips.

"There's blankets in the hallway closet."

"I didn't know that. How would I know that?"

"I could've told you if you would've woken me up." Kate kisses her again. "Thank you."

Yelena closes her eyes and inhales sharply.

"What are we doing?"

"I don't know about you, but I'm about to go try some of these pancakes."

"You know what I mean, Kate...I'm leaving."

"You're here now."

"Doesn't change what happens come November."

"We can worry about November later. Right now, I'm hungry and want pancakes. Do you have plans today?" Yelena shakes her head. "She's supposed to be with me this weekend, but one of her dad’s cousins is getting married. He’s picking her up at eleven and she's staying the night. I need to get her ready, pack her bag, and get her out the door. Then we have the place to ourselves until tomorrow at ten. I do believe I promised you some morning sex, so as long as he's on time and you have me naked in bed before noon, it'll technically count."

Yelena shakes her head while a smile creeps up on her.

"You're something else."

Kate kisses her.

"Is that a good thing or a bad thing?"

"Remains to be seen."

Yelena kisses her this time.

"CAN WE FINISH BREAKFAST, PLEASE?! I'M GOING TO DIE OF HUNGRY!"

A little voice pleads from the kitchen. Kate and Yelena are forced to separate and snicker.

"Yup! Coming! Helping your mom with a thing, but I'll be right there."

"You'll definitely be helping a lot more once she's gone for the day."

Kate smirks at Yelena before stealing one last kiss and heading to the door, dragging the older woman behind her.

"Alright, where are these pancakes I was promised?"

“HERE! We’re making them, mommy.”

---

Kate’s legs are draped over Yelena’s thighs, their interlocked fingers casually fiddling while they speak in hushed voices. Yelena leans in, intent on stealing a sneaky kiss when there’s a knock on the door. 

“Ri, your dad’s here!” Kate rudely screams millimeters away from Yelena’s mouth. Yelena flinches at the volume. 

“DADDY!” Ereka shrieks from her bedroom, followed by the rustling of last-minute stuffing of things into a backpack.

When she realizes what she did, Kate offers a bashful smile and plants a series of soft, rapid kisses on Yelena’s lips. 

“Sorry.” Kate mouths before stealing another kiss.

“Should I go to your room or something?” Yelena asks as Kate untangles herself from her. 

“No. No. I’ll make sure he’s in and out. It’s fine.”

There’s another, more impatient knock on the door. 

“I’m coming!”

Kate speeds up the pace and swings the door open to find Tom holding a bouquet of deep purple tulips on the other side. 

“Was walking by that little florist on 84th and 2nd and saw these. They reminded me of you, KitKat.”

“Thank you. They’re beautiful.”

Kate expresses genuinely before smelling the flowers. Tom smiles, proud of himself, and places a lingering kiss on Kate’s cheek before stepping inside. 

“I was thinking…maybe you can come to the wedding. With us…me and…” Tom’s train of thought gets derailed when he notices the stranger lackadaisically lounging on the couch in what seems like sleepwear. “Hey.”

“That’s Yelena.”

“DADDY! DADDY! DADDY!” 

Ereka rushes Tom, who swings her into the air and smothers her face with kisses.

“Hi, lovebug! You look gorgeous today. Mommy did a good job with those braids on your hair!”

“Mommy didn’t do them! Yelena did!”

With the little girl now attached to his hip, Tom takes a step toward the couch; his hand extended in a polite greeting mode.

“I guess you’re the neighbor.”

Yelena stands and shakes his hand.

“I’m the neighbor.”

“She doesn’t shut up about you.”

“She’s a great kid.”

“She is. Perfect kid. We made a perfect kid. I keep telling KitKat we should make more.” Tom laughs. “Isn’t that right, baby? I always tell you how we should give her that little sister she wants.” Kate forces an awkward smile. Tom turns to face Kate and holds her hand in his. “So, about you coming today. How do you feel about that? I talked to my aunt because of the RSVP and headcount thing. They said it’s perfectly fine. They’d love to have you there. They haven’t seen you in a bit.”

Tom runs his thumb over Kate’s cheek. Kate takes a step back, putting distance between them.

“I’m busy today. I think it’ll be great for you guys to have one-on-one time.”

“We have one-on-one time all the time, KitKat. You know what she hasn’t had in a while? Family time. The three of us. Together. Wouldn’t you want that, princess? The family at a family event.”

“YESSSS! You should come, mommy.”

“Tom…”

“I’m gonna go. You guys can figure that out.”

Yelena mumbles stiffly as she starts to head for the door. 

“See you, neighbor lady.”

Kate steps in Yelena’s way, using her body to block her path, and almost imperceptibly shakes her head while painting a massive fake smile on her face and addressing Tom. 

“Her dress and shoes are in the bag. She can probably keep the braids for the wedding if you don’t rile her up too much. They’ll look cute in pictures. If they get messed up, let them loose and brush her hair out. It should be fine. If you’re not sure if the braids still look good or not, don’t let her run around looking crazy. Ask your mom or your sister. They’ll tell you. I put a headband in there in case she needs to have it down.”

Tom zoned out after the first few words. As his ex talks, his eyes dart back and forth between Kate and Yelena. Their shoulders are pressed together and their hands are nearly overlapping.

“Hmmmmm…okay. So that’s a ‘no’ on coming with your husband and your daughter to the family wedding? Even though she clearly wants you to come.”

“It’s a no. I’m busy.” Tom scoffs. Kate takes a step forward and plants a kiss on the little girl’s forehead. “You and daddy have the most fun, okay? You’re staying with him and grandma tonight, but I’ll see you in the morning. I love you.”

“Why are you not coming, mommy?” Ereka pouts.

“Yeah, KitKat. Why are you not coming?” Tom asks, accusatory and eyeing Yelena surreptitiously.

Kate glares at Tom. 

“Because that was never the plan.”

“Our daughter wants you to come.”

“That wasn’t a thing she wanted until you brought it up. She’ll live. Alright. Isn’t the wedding in Connecticut? That’s a drive. You guys should get going because I don’t want you rushing on the interstate. Please let your mom or someone else drive tonight if you drink at the wedding.”

“Right.”

“I mean it, Thomas. I don’t want her in the car with you if you're drinking. I’ll pick her up if I need to. Just call me if it gets to that. I’ll come.”

“You could come with us now.”

Kate kisses the girl again, then bends over to grab the backpack she had discarded as she ran out and places it in Tom’s hand. 

“Everything she needs is in here.”

“Except for her mom being there with her and daddy.”

“BYE! Have fun!” Kate smiles and nudges him in the direction of the door. “I love you, baby.”

“I love you, mommy!”

“See you tomorrow!”

Kate closes the door on Tom, leaving him staring at Yelena from the door. 

“That was…interesting.” Yelena ponders for as long as it takes Kate to close the distance between them. “Did he call himself your husband...?”

“He does that sometimes.”

“But he’s…”

“Not. Definitely not. We got divorced when Ri was two. He’s still getting used to it.”

“That was…three years ago?”

“And we were together for almost seven. It’s taking him a bit.”

“That sounds messy.”

“I’m not with him. I have no interest in being with him.”

“Does he know that? Because he brought you flowers, wanted you to be his date to a wedding, and calls himself ‘your husband’.”

“Can we not talk about him? Please?” Kate steps even closer and intertwines their fingers. “Still very much into the idea of morning sex WITH YOU and noon is creeping up. We should get on that…” 

Kate’s lips fly to Yelena’s neck and start peppering kisses on the exposed skin.

“You have convincing ways, Kate Bishop.”

“I like to think so.” Kate kisses her way up to Yelena’s mouth. “Are you gonna keep spiraling about my ex, or are you gonna fuck me? One sounds A LOT more fun than the other.” Yelena studies her face. A mischievous grin appears on Kate’s face. “You like it when I beg you for it, don’t you?”

“You look good begging.” Yelena smirks confidently.

“Please,” Kate whispers against Yelena’s lips. “Please…I’m dying to be under you again…Please.”

Yelena smashes their lips together and taps the back of Kate’s thighs. Kate takes the hint and wraps her legs around Yelena’s waist and arms around her neck. Yelena brings her hands to Kate’s ass to hold her up while she starts guiding them toward the bedroom. As they’re getting to the door, Kate leans back.

“Stop. Hold on. Hold on.” Yelena quietly panics and puts Kate down. “Wait here.”

“What?”

Kate hastily pecks Yelena’s lips before vanishing into her room.

“Wait there.”

“Kate, we don’t have to if you don’t want to. If you changed your mind…”

“Shut up and wait before you freak out, will you?”

Moments later, Kate reappears on the threshold, clad in the skimpiest lingerie. She wears a black triangle bra with leavers lace and a matching lace thong. The outfit (or lack thereof) is capped with an untied purple silk robe lazily draped down the sides of her body. Yelena purses her lips and dramatically exhales. 

“You like?” Yelena nods and hums. “Then will you please come and fuck me before I ruin this underwear any more than I currently am? They’re La Perla. They’re expensive.” 

Kate offers a rascally smile before disappearing into the room anew. 

Yelena lingers at the threshold for a moment and softly bangs her forehead against the wall. There's no way this isn't going to be a disaster come November.

She was right.

[0gl1tch0]

I realized something this morning and it feels like it’s important so I want to write it down.

I’m not great at tumble - for what it’s worth this post is about my life and not my usual cute animals and fun facts.

For the first time in a long time I wish I had a therapist to talk to.

Anyway.

In no particular order, here’s a list of things about me.

When i was a young lad I was a straight A student. This despite the fact that I didn’t do the readings and was often sent out in the hall during English class. When I went to college I struggled - with every class not just English - developed clinical depression, and dropped out.

As a part of that depression, it felt like part of my brain didn’t work. It was like a very thing vertical slice right in the back was frozen. I would get headaches and my whole head would hurt except that one slice, I thought maybe (but probably not) I had a tumor.

I’ve never been good at romantic relationships. It felt like the rest of the world knew something I didn’t - something that told them I was a bad partner and to be avoided.

I really like dungeons and dragons/fantasy and like the idea of being a writer. I’ve always thought I had good instincts for good writing versus bad writing, but my own writing was always terrible.

Anyway.

This morning I realized the obvious - because I didn’t do the readings in school, I never learned how to correctly interpret the text. Well, I can understand obvious literature just fine, but the subtle draw-conclusions part. The identify the author’s themes part. That I couldn’t do. I had generally dismissed a lot of this as bullshit, numerology and horoscopes. People seeing patterns that weren’t there. After all I was a straight A student - including English.

But today when I woke up it finally dawned on me it wasn’t bullshit, and teachers tried to teach me it for years but I didn’t even read the books. Probably if I had I’d be a better writer. My D&d games would be of a higher quality and the stories I want to tell would be getting told.

Also - the frozen part of my brain feels like it’s on fire. Maybe this is an idea that I just couldn’t handle in my college drop out depression era? And meds + therapy + loving kittens have improved things?

Or maybe this is self hatred rearing its ugly head in a new and different way.

My final conclusion was to think of my life as a character described in a book. Maybe one of those books my English teacher would assign and I wouldn’t read.

My apartment is messy, I’m late all the time, my bed isn’t made. My fridge is full of moldy leftovers and very little edible food - only enough to make like five recipes.

If an author in one of those English class books were to describe me - what conclusions would the class come to? Maybe this is the thing I was missing. Maybe this is the thing the rest of the world has known and I don’t.

If an author in one of those English class books were to describe the people around me - what conclusions would I come to? Have I been really unempathetic this whole time? Based on the evidence in the “text” have there been facts about those around me I just straight up didn’t notice? Have I been ignorantly trampling through social interactions everyone else was aware of?

I don’t know. I wouldn’t come to any conclusions. If an author described my life I’d be out in the hall, still not reading the book.

Anyway.

The depression part of my brain feels like it turned on after being off for 12+ years. Maybe longer. So I wanted to write it down.

[maygranted]

I saw your post about Buck being OCD-coded! Can you please say more?? I’ve always read him as being ADHD-coded and I’d love to hear more!

omg ofc i’d love to! i do apologise for how long this post is going to be 😭

so to start off, this all began bc my friend (who has adhd) really related to buck and i (who has ocd) also really related to him so we were like hmm wait a second… adhd AND ocd???

anyway i think one part of him that’s just v ocd coded to me (but also definitely is in combination with rsd from his adhd) is how he tends to catastrophise situations. like he has such severe abandonment issues to the point where he actively obsesses over it, here’s an example !!!

BUCK: Starts out small. Uh, she's-she's canceling plans. She's got to work. She needs to wash her hair or do her laundry, and before you know it, poof. Dropping them off at the airport and never seeing them again.

HEN: Okay, Buck, you're being a little too Buck about this.

like it’s just a very irrational line of thought and u can see how hen says oh you’re being a little too buck abt this bc it’s common for him to exaggerate situations he obsesses over in his mind. and then in turn to alleviate this anxiety somehow he begins to cling bc all his irrational thoughts are telling him that people will leave

and then ofc there’s the situation where after chimney’s left he feels so heavily responsible for it (responsibility ocd ) to the point where he says he’ll leave the 118. like that’s such an irrational line of thought that his mind has catastrophised from obsessing over it.

and then also the tsunami episodes <3 like ofc he feels responsible for chris it’s a normal response but the way he actively obsesses over losing chris and that that makes him a terrible person and he has such severe guilt over it is just v moral ocd and responsibility ocd to me? so he searches for chris to the point where he’s severely dehydrated and bleeding and he still doesn’t stop that’s just a v obsessive thing to me does that make sense??

here’s an explanation of hyper-responsibility related to ocd, which btw sounds very buck coded to me:

But what happens when someone overestimates their responsibility? What happens when someone feels that they can control things that they cannot actually control? These feelings might even seep into relationships—feeling like they can control how someone else feels, or feeling that they are responsible for making everyone happy or content. This can create people-pleasing patterns and make them constantly feel the need to put others’ needs in front of their own. This can look like saying yes to things they do not want to do but feel they need to do, lest someone get upset with them. Or, they may think, “If I don’t do this, then something bad might happen.” […]

Anxiety and guilt are often at the root of an inflated sense of responsibility. The person with OCD thinks of all the possible repercussions of not acting in a particular scenario. They feel guilty for possible negative outcomes, often engaging in magical thinking—believing that their ideas, thoughts, actions, or other things can impact the world around them. This results in compulsions, which can take on many different forms; for some, it may involve very detailed rituals they feel they must perform to prevent something very specific from occurring. For others, it may be a vague need to do something “just in case” or to feel like everyone will be safe.

and then ofc there’s my gifset where he’s developed a compulsion bc he’s scared he’s still in a coma so he has a list of things he checks </3

anyway i feel like a huge part of this is definitely also projecting bc i personally struggle with moral ocd and responsibility ocd and a lot of guilt bc of that but it’s just something i’ve noticed a lot with buck, how his mind is constantly jumping to the worst, most irrational conclusion (and irrationality IS a huge part of intrusive thoughts) and so in turn he either feels the need to fix it (bc it’s HIS responsibility in his mind!) by distancing himself bc he’s the problem or clinging. trying to fix something that isn’t even a problem that needs fixing or isn’t even ur responsibility to fix is just a very ocd coded thing to me <3 and i think a lot of this is definitely more related to mental compulsions which a lot of people don’t really know abt and instead assume ocd is just the stereotypical compulsions (washing hands, organising etc which ARE ofc things that happen but it’s not just that!) so he v much falls into that “irrational thought / obsession” —> anxiety, uncertainty, guilt —> compulsion (trying to fix shit, apologising, reassurance) cycle u see with ocd.

i hope this made sense somehow and ty for asking, as u can see i love talking abt this :)) also it’s absolutely ok to disagree with me on this, it’s just something i personally noticed and really identified with due to my own ocd, i just hope i did a good job of explaining it!

[f1-disaster-bi]

i notice you’ve been reblogging more lance pics lately 👀 👀 do you have any lance/lando snippets saved up?? i think you write my favorite lance i’ve had the pleasure of reading, and ur lance/lando mclaren au (and that one lance/lando/max series!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! makes me crazy and a lil feral still) is what got me into lance as a driver!!!! i’ve been missing them as a pairing lately, but i have no specific prompts/thoughts haha, i know you spoke about possible frat boy lance au a long while ago (i think it was only just thoughts but i would like to say i support these thoughts heavily if you ever get inspired about it again, it’s such a perfect au idea for lance lmao) and you’ve mentioned pro dom recently, or any of ur past lance/lando stuff!!!!

i hope this is coming across as like, i’ll appreciate anything, even if it’s just some of ur thoughts on them or an old snippet u haven’t posted, or anything, and it’s not coming across as like, u nEEd to pOst mY pairing!!1!1!1 type vibe, which is not what i am going for!!!! i might be overthinking this, but i wanna make sure you only get kind messages rn!!!! and all the time!!!! and that ur focusing on things that make u happy rn and stuff u wanna write while u ease back in!!!!!! this became a tad long winded but u r my fav writer, and i think it’s so ridiculous people are attacking you when it’s so easy to just keep scrolling lol, it’s like f1twt type vibes where someone will post i like lando norris and then get quote tweeted some insane tangent about how lando is terrible and his fans r evil!!! just move on!!!! don’t look at it!!! and it’s pretty easy to tailor what you do and don’t wanna see on all social media and ao3 these days, so if people don’t wanna see what you post, then they don’t have to!!!!! they chose to interact, that’s on them!! no need to take it out on you or other ppl just tryna interact w the parts of the fandom they wanna be with!!!! some more exclamation points!!!!!!!! but yes <3 u rock and u r the reason lance is one of the drivers i like to see in fandom spaces so i hope that brings u maybe a little peace to know u r successfully spreadin the lance love bc he gets a lot of hate

Never apologise for rambling or sending me a big train of thought!! I love things like this, and thank you for being so sweet and kind. Your're way too kind to me anon 🥺

I'm so glad my little Strollis fics could introduce you to Lance and get you on board the Lance train because he's just a tall bean who deserves a lot more love than he gets!!

I always love writing him and writing him and Lando whether it's Unexpected au, Hangover au, Pro Dom, Tattoo Artist Lando. I just love writing their dynamic and haven't really written much for them in the last while.

I've don some digging, and I found this from Unexpected au from the Wedding fic I was writing but has been left in my WIP pile!

Overwhelmed by affection, Lance left the food be once more and made his way back to Lando. He cupped his cheeks in his hands gently and kissed him once more. Sighing softly as Lando’s fingers hooked into his belt loops and pulled him closer, mouth opening under Lance’s as they kissed. “You’re going to be my husband”, Lance breathed against his lips, smiling as Lando nipped at his bottom lip. “And you’re going to be mine”, Lando grinned, pulling back to press a series of kisses across his cheek and jaw. “Even if you have to google what peonies are and deal with Chloe steamrolling our wedding?”, Lance teased, thumbs brushing Lando’s cheekbones and laughing when the other’s breath tickled his palm as he turned his head to press a kiss there. “Even then. You could be a 7ft tall alien and I’d still marry you”, Lando promise, gazing up at him with eyes filled with nothing but love. “Keep your weird monster kinks out of our wedding”, Lance groaned, scrunching his nose and dropping his hands as Lando burst into laughter, trying to keep Lance in place.

[rjwhite]

That's the Day I Throw my Drugs Away

The Morphine album Cure for Pain came out 30 years ago, on September 14, 1993. A few years back, I was on this music review mailing list, where each member had to take a turn writing about an album of great importance to them. This was mine.

Ever since I was a kid, cities always held a fascination for me. I was not well-traveled, growing up in the middle of Michigan. The idea of being in some cosmopolitan, dense, East Coast metropolis was amazing to me, yet it took until well into college to even head out there, for a college television conference in Providence in 1996. We made the drive from Michigan State University, cut across Canada in the dead of night to spend a day in Boston, then head down to Providence in rush hour traffic. Checked into the hotel and one of the people in our group asked who was playing in town. Morphine at Lupo’s Heartbreak Hotel. A friend said we absolutely had to go, as the band was amazing. I’d never heard of them, but went along because, hey, a concert in an actual, real city and everything, you know?

A loud club with cheap beer. Lots of people crowded in. The band came on. It was one of those weird things you always remember. These guys were on stage- not young, one of them playing a bass with only two strings? The one guy playing two saxes at once? The lead singer going into some beat poetry? What was this? I’d never seen or heard anything like it. My mind exploded. The band, the crowd, everything was in sync. Leaving the club, being downtown in an old, established city- the whole weekend of experiencing something I’d built up for so long … it just cemented that I needed to be in a place like that. I needed to live somewhere with history, vitality.

We got back to East Lansing and one of the first things I did that week was go to Flat, Black and Circular (still one of the best record shops I’ve ever been lucky enough to shop) and pick up Cure for Pain. It wasn’t even the album they were touring for (Like Swimming). I think Cure for Pain was the first one I saw in the rack? But it grabbed me and entranced me and hooked me for life. I listened and listened and listened. This incredible, smooth, wonderful mix of I don’t know what- jazz? Rock? Stories of cheating and sleaziness and sadness and loss and regret?

It’s just a wonderful thing to just discover a band you had no idea existed and instantly be taken with them. To feel that connection you never knew was there and somehow know you’ll be listening to them for a good, long while. It’s almost like falling in love with someone, you know?

I just always associate the album with that time and it’s all smashed together in my head, making that absolutely certain decision that, someway, somehow, I was going to live on the East Coast, in an honest-to-god city where I could go to places like Lupo’s and see bands like Morphine for the first time.

Now, I live in Philadelphia and never go to shows!

Though the odd, strange miracle of the internet, I’m able to hear a bootleg of that very night, knowing that 21-year-old RJ is in that crowd somewhere, just happy and dumbfounded by what he is hearing and utterly enjoying being in that moment.

I don’t know if I can hear myself in there, though. That might be too strange, like thinking of the dead people in the repeated laugh tracks of old sitcoms.

But, the record! Just a pleasure to listen to, front to back.

“Dawna” and “Buena” kicking it off… “I’m Free Now” as a sad, incredible post-breakup song where you feel like that terrible jerk who’s made a bad mistake (I'm free now to direct a movie/Sing a song or write a book about yours truly/How I'm so interesting I'm so great I'm really just a fuck-up/And It's such a waste to burn down these walls around me)... That delicate mandolin of “In Spite of Me”... The barrelling train of “Mary Won’t You Call My Name”... That jazzy, smoky rambling of “Let’s Take a Trip Together”... “Thursday” is almost a short film, with the wenching title track slamming you right after… all of it...

July 3 will mark the anniversary of Morphine frontman Mark Sandman’s death from a heart attack in the midst of a 1999 concert in Europe. If you could throw this (or anything from their wonderful catalog, really) on, I think that would be nice.

Anyway, that's why I love this 30-year-old record and this band. Listen to it wherever you can, it's a hell of a beautiful thing.

[thehoneyedhufflepuff]

Fic Writer Asks:

6. 18 and 22

Thank you for sending this in!

6. What is the most underrated fic you’ve written?

Probably anything about BTL Dev & Niall, because that’s a super niche set. (Though the people who like them have been wonderful about it.) Those, & any of the little BTL future fics/ficlets I’ve written, but again—niche set. Very understandable.

18. Is there a fandom you have wanted to start writing for but haven’t yet?

I honestly haven’t thought about this! I don’t know what it is about the things that capture me & inspire me to write about them, but there haven’t been many & it doesn’t happen often. Mr HH says I should write my own IP but I just don’t know! If anything, I’d turn BTL into its own book someday. Maybe.

That was not the question at all, oops.

If ever something comes along that sparks that creativity, I am certainly open to it!

22. How long have you been writing fanfiction?

Off & on…since I was like 12? It all started with a little movie called The Fellowship of the Ring, you see. I had this epic idea in my head for a post-canon fic that I, in my infinite wisdom, called Aftermath. I started posting the first, terrible version of that somewhere—I can’t remember where we posted back then—but someone chewed me out about it because it was obvious I was in love with Elijah Wood. Like ma’am, you’re right (I didn’t tell them so).

Actually, as I was typing all that out, I remember that there was an HP fic phase in there somewhere. I can’t remember if this was before, after, or during the LOTR phase. I want to say it was sometime before OOTP came out, which was 2003. So yeah, around the same time period (I am dating myself). We were waiting for that book to come out so my friends & I would write our own versions of what would happen.

Anyway…over 20 years is the answer. But it’s been a very sporadic thing. There was a long period of time where I didn’t write at all, then I found a book called Carry On, & well. Here we are. (And then I took a wee hiatus. Y’know. I’m George RR Martin-ing over here.)

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