#I’m tired of hating all these people but I will never ever forgive them

[pissfizz]

I am so tired

[petalsprompts]

𝐒𝐏𝐎𝐎𝐊𝐘 𝐒𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐎𝐍 𝐌𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐒; 𝒇𝒓𝒐𝒎 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒋𝒖𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒖𝒏𝒊𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒔𝒆.

change pronouns, tenses and other details as deemed necessary. & please specify muse when sending to a mumu.

Everything  you  see  in  here  is  either  haunted,  cursed,  or  has  been  used  in  some  kind  of  ritualistic  practice.

There  is  something...  horrible  happening  in  my  house.

The  Vatican  approved  the  exorcism.

A  dark  spirit  has  latched  itself  to  you/[your  family]  and  is  feeding  off  you.

What's  the  opposite  of  a  miracle,  Father?

I'm  afraid  there  is  something  very  wrong  with  this  place.

I  can  see  things  that  your  people  can't.

An oppressing spirit will try to force you to commit the ultimate of sins; murder, suicide, or both.

There  is  a  lot  of  evil  in  this  room. 

This one still haunts me.

I’m  so  afraid  this  thing  wants  to  hurt  us. 

There's  a  lady  in  a  dirty  nightgown  that  I  see  in  my  dreams.  She's  standing  in  front  of  my  mom's  bed.

Look  what  she  made  me  do!

Oh,  my  God.  A  Ouija  board?!  Have  you  two  been  playing  with  this?

Well,  ghosts  used  to  be  people.  And  not  all  people  are  bad.  So  maybe  not  all  ghosts  are  bad...?

It  was  the  same  vision  I  had  seven  years  ago.  I  had  a  premonition  of  your  death.

It's standing right behind you.

Whatever  you  do,  don't  stop  praying.

The  court  accepts  the  existence  of  God  every  time  a  witness  swears  to  tell  the  truth.  I  think  it's  about  time  they  accept  the  existence  of  the  Devil.

The  devil  exists.  God  exists.  And  for  us,  as  people,  our  very  destiny  hinges  upon  which  one  we  elect  to  follow.

[Name],  this  is  as  close  to  hell  as  I  ever  want  to  get.

Forgive  me,  Father,  for  I  am  about  to  sin.

Remember  how  I  told  you  that  an  inhuman  spirit  needs  to  be  invited?

There  is  one  spirit  I'm  most  worried  about  because  it  is  so  hateful.

Diabolical  forces  are  formidable.  These  forces  are  eternal,  and  they  exist  today.

It said it wants my family dead.

When  the  music  stops,  you'll  see  him  in  the  mirror  standing  behind  you

It  scares  us  just  thinking  about  it.

Our  presence  here  could  make  things  worse.

Help me!  It  won't  let  me  go!

There  are  things  happening  that  I  can't  explain.

An  inhuman  spirit  is  something  that's  never  walked  the  Earth  in�� human  form.  It's something demonic.

No,  I  can't  feel  any  presence...  just  the  opposite.  I'm  not  sensing  anything  at  all. My sight is – blocked.

The  voice  doesn't  come  from  inside  me...  it  comes  from  behind  me,  like  I'm  being  used.

I  don't  know  what's  worse:  the  demons  or  the  people  who  prey  on  our  willingness  to  believe  in  them.

The  demon  in  your  painting  is  real.

It  wants  her.  So  badly,  and  it  almost  has  her.

Everything  they've  experienced  has  been  a  manifestation  of  the  demonic.

It  said  it  would  kill  you  if  I  didn't  make  them  leave.

In  my  vision  he  wanted  to  help  me,  but  he  was  too  afraid... and  he  kept  speaking  in  a  kind  of  riddle.

Knowing  the  demon's  name  gives  us  power  over  it  and  we  can  cast  it  out.

We  have  both  seen  the  same  inhuman  spirit.

I'm  just  so  tired.  I  can't  sleep  here.

Negative  entities  often  feed  off  emotional  distress.  They  like  to  kick  you  when  you're  down.

All  I  can  sense  is  their  own  fear.  I  can't  seem  to  see  beyond  that.

It's  something  inhuman.  Something  that's  taken  a  blasphemous  form  to  attack  my  faith.

[regregregulusblack]

My official intro post . ⋆✮ ˚ . ✩°｡⋆｡

𝙷𝚎𝚕𝚕𝚘. My name is Regulus Black, and no, you are NOT allowed to call me Reg or Reggie.

A photo my friend Evan took of me without my permission. I will never forgive you, @barbie-wants-to-be-me-fr !!!

I am intersex and I go by he/they pronouns. I don’t like to label myself, but at least I am not straight. I am single and not looking for anyone at all at the moment. I am also autistic and have ADHD. NOT the wild sort. The fucking-tired-bitch-stfu-sort.

My interests:

• Art

• Quidditch (I’m a seeker)

• Poetry (both reading and writing)

• Reading books

• Defence of the Dark Arts

• Analysing every single lyric in every single Taylor Swift song and crying about it

• Makeup

On this blog I will be posting quotes, poetry, art, photographs and selfies and just silly little things that I feel like sharing. If I see any posts about me, I will read them and BEWARE, I will be critical. So you might see me around :) You have been warned.

You will also probably see me having chats with my friends, @remus-lupin-offical is one of them but I’m still waiting for my other idiot friends to finish making their bloody accounts. I will add them here as soon as I can! Update: Took as them long enough, but now they’re also on Tumblr! People you will see me interacting with:

• @sirius-thesstar (Ew)

• @remus-lupin-offical (Why’d you choose my idiot brother as your boyfriend? You’re better than this.)

• @the-real-marls-mckinnon

• @xxcassiexx Dorcas Meadows, a Slytherin I have deep respect for. Say hi to Dorcas!

• @barty-not-barry (My batshit crazy friend)

• @pandora-notyetalovegood (Fellow Slytherin, say hi!)

• @lily-evans-for-ya (In a world of annoying people you are a nice person. Take it as a compliment or don’t. It’s up to you.)

• @captainjamespotter (Annoying Gryffindor)

• @stolemyheelsfromlegolas (DO NOT CALL ME REGIANO FFS) (MARY YOU HEAR ME?!)

• @barbie-wants-to-be-me-fr (Another lovely Slytherin asshole, he and Barty should just shut up and kiss by the way)

• @ur-local-peter-pettigrew (Gryffindor)

• @itty-bitty-bella (Cousin)

• @therealcissyblack (Cousin who loves me :))

• @andro-black (Cousin AS WELL)

• @the-best-slytherin (Luna, a fellow Slytherin)

• @yourfavouritehufflepuffgirl (Ew Hufflepuffs) (Ooc: I love Hufflepuffs)

You will see me arguing with my brother, @sirius-thesstar. Like, a lot. Don’t mind Sirius, he’s an idiot. If we’re arguing in French, do NOT translate if you’re a scaredy cat…

Do not interact if:

• You’re Sirius and you’re mad at me

• You’re a Gryffindor (yeah that goes for you too Sirius) (Slytherin is the best Hogwarts house)

• You’re transphobic

• You’re homophobic

• You don’t like me for some other reason

• You’re a Taylor Swift hater

I love Taylor. Don’t you ever disrespect her. Her new album only further proves that she’s a true poet. Even @sirius-thesstar agrees with me on that.

Other things I love are:

• Cats (I dream of having two black cats and naming them Phoebe and Ruby)

• The sea (It’s so calming to watch, but I HATE swimming. It’s too cold. And wet. Yuck.)

• The rain

• Conan Gray (No one can take his album “Superache” from me. Don’t ever try or I’ll bite you.)

Hope I’ll see you around! (Or not. Depending on my mood)

My tags: #regregregulusreg, #thetorturedpoetofthecave, #regussy, #regulussy

Random edit: Ooc: Eh so I’m a minor and I’m a victim of actual physical and mental abuse and I’m still going through stuff, so eh, “Reggie” might be talking jokingly about abusive parents and a tough upbringing on here and stuff like that… just know that that is my fucked up coping mechanism okay, and I don’t mean any harm, and please if you’re joking around with me about abuse don’t take it too far since it might be triggering for me. Thank you.

[emmyrosee]

He doesn’t feel right. He shouldn’t be doing this.

Kiyoomi isn’t exactly the best with the relationship thing; be it friends, or family, or intimate, he’s left a lot of that to Motoya- the “nice” one.

It never really bothered him that Motoya was considered ‘nicer’ than him, Kiyoomi knew his heart’s reasonings for picking and choosing who and what to have empathy and respect for; just because Komori had less of a sense for it, doesn’t mean he’s ‘nicer.’

And then you crashed into Sakusa Kiyoomi’s life.

With no remorse or sympathy, you strut your way into Kiyoomi’s life like you owned the rental space in his heart and mind, like you were meant to be there all along, and despite never, ever having been in genuine love before, your presence felt natural to the unnatural and unpredictable world.

And he feels absolutely terrible he probably demolished that.

More so because you deserve better; he doesn’t feel sorry for himself that he probably lost the best thing that ever happened to him. You don’t deserve his malice, and tonight, that’s all he subjected you to.

So, against all his logic and his mind begging him to stay and let you have your space, his heart refuses. It yearns for you, it craves you, wants to know you’re okay and that he supports you if you’ve fallen out of love with him.

Because sure, kiyoomi hates sleeping on couches. But he hates sleeping without you more.

Shambling into the living room- only stubbing his toe once or twice, impressive even to him- he manages to make his way to your quivering frame, and he swallows thickly at the distraught mess he’s made you.

“Hey,” kiyoomi sighs, watching with a wince as you scrub your eyes. They’re so swollen, and they leave tears along your fingers, but he says nothing about it, not wanting you to feel worse.

“I’m sorry!” You choke. “Did I wake you? I should’ve been quiet. You need your sleep, you have to-“

“Stop,” he croaks, the lump in his throat bubbling up. “Don’t apologize.” He’s the one that kicked you out of your own bedroom, and you’re standing there, apologizing to him?

He’s amazed you haven’t left him yet.

If he were you, he would’ve. This would be the final straw, the end all of your relationship. He’d pack up all his shit, throw it in a suitcase and absolutely book it out of the house. He’d slash a hole in three of your tires, because all four means you don’t have to pay for them, so three is for the best revenge, and he’d go fuck your cousin who’s so much nicer than you could ever be, and-

“Kiyoomi?”

“Three,” he says suddenly, cheeks flushing hot when he realizes you have no clue what he’s talking about. He clears his throat and scrubs his face with his large hands. “I’m… I wanted to come and apologize.”

Immediately, your heaving sobs come to an end, tears dribbling down your face and falling from your chin once they gain enough weight and momentum. He gives you a shaky sigh, “I never…” he forces the lump down his throat as best as he can, “I never should’ve snapped at you like that, or kept you away from your own bed; you… you’ve never done that to me, even if I’ve deserved it.”

You still say nothing, eyes glimmering up at him in bewilderment. He should shut up, he knows, but he wants to put all the cards down because you don’t have to forgive him- you deserve to have whatever closure you need to take.

Even if that is slashing three of his tires.

“You don’t have to justify me being malicious,” he continues with a shaky sigh. “I’ve had people my whole life do that, and I’ve let them. You don’t have to- I never should’ve turned you away like that.”

“So you’ve said,” you croak. Your head turns to avoid his gaze, and after a few moments, your shoulders start to heave again. “It…” you snarl softly, “it was never about the bed, Kiyoomi. You sent me away… did I really make you that mad?”

“No,” he says, crouching down to make himself smaller, more approachable than his usual 190.5 centimeter frame. “That’s on me, baby. That has nothing to do with you. I’m the one who betrayed that trust and blew everything far out of proportion.” His head ducks to try and meet your gaze, mumbling a soft ‘can I touch you?’ and he’s unsurprised when you shake your head ‘no.’

You do, however, turn to look at him, and it makes his heart pound even more than it already was- a task he thought was impossible, but here you were, proving that theory wrong.

“I didn’t do anything to you,” you whimper. He nods, looking down shamefully. Your breathing is ragged, “you’re the one who threw me aside. I tried, Kiyoomi, I tried to apologize and make you forgive me, and you rejected it.” Once again, he says nothing. “You’ve never been so mad where you… where you didn’t w-want me.”

He disobeys your wishes and places a loving hand on your knee, shaking his head. “Don’t be like that.” He blinks his own line of tears down, and even if he doesn’t deserve a lick of your kindness, you reach out to wipe it away. “Stop blaming yourself for the shit I’ve done; it was selfish, and I didn’t think about you, or us, and I was an idiot.”

He squeezes your knee, “but I always will want you. Even if I didn’t show it tonight.” Your hand trembles against his soft cheek, thumb grazing along the stubble that grows. You look him up and down, almost processing his apology and deciphering if it’s good enough.

“You fucked up,” you say finally. Despite himself, he gives you a soft chuckle.

“I know.”

“Don’t be this person, Kiyoomi,” you say, a pleading lilt to your voice. “I don’t want to play these games with you. We’re adults. You can’t shut me out because you get mad at me.”

“I know,” he says quietly. Then, he stands up, “I understand if… if you still want to be alone. I just wanted to you know that no matter what I say or do, I love you. And I appreciate you for always being here.”

Always here. Always watching him. Always loving him.

“I want to come to bed.”

His ears perk up at your sudden, soft words, and he gives you a small smile and a nod, his hand extending out to gently take yours if you’ll let him. A chill runs through him when you indeed lace your fingers in his, pulling yourself up to walk your exhausted frames to the bedroom. He feels your face nuzzle into the muscle of his bicep, and he casts you a puzzled look.

“It’s going to take some time to trust you again,” you mumble softly, squeezing the muscles in his arm as if to plead him to not go away or chastise your ‘demands.’

Hardly demands, but he understands your hesitation.

“Yeah?” He hums, planting a kiss to your head. To make you laugh for the first time in hours, he gently tugs you closer to him and leans his entire weight on you, quickly swaying you both to flop onto the bed; this does have you giggling, pitching when the mattress squeals under the weight of both of you. He kisses your head once more, then moving his kiss to your lips, sighing when you reciprocate the affection back.

“The rest of your life sound okay?”

————

this is the ending I chose, if you don’t like it, I don’t know what to tell you 🥲🫡 but a part two wouldn’t have been possible without your encouragement and support, and I’m forever thankful for the encouragement from everyone who took the time to either want to be tagged, or read the piece whenever they get the chance.

Mwah 💋

@captainchrisstan

@soleilstice

@lucacangettathisass

@harukamisato

@i-x4o

@muite

[starcrossedxwriter]

Wicked Fantasies Part 11.1 (MBJ x OC)

A/N: Ummm so welcome backkk! This is 11.1 because there's a second part to this chapter (I know... my self control keeps getting worse lolol) But I hope you enjoy!

TW: grief

“I’m never fucking drinking again,” Raven moaned to herself as she stumbled out of the comforts of bed. She felt like hell, if hell had a truck run over its head a few dozen times. 

Raven generally considered herself an early riser but nothing could pull her out of bed that morning after what was, objectively, the dumbest night of her life. Part of her wished she had had one or two more drinks so she could have officially transitioned into the ‘blackout drunk’ phase. So that she would, at least, be spared the embarrassing memories. But no, every horrible moment of the night from dancing wildly at the bar to Michael saving her was etched into the crevices of her brain with shocking clarity. 

Now, it was after noon and Raven still found herself wanting to be curled under her blanket asleep so she could escape her embarrassment. 

A knock at the door pulled her out of her wallowing self pity. She did not make an attempt to move, expecting Tiffany to answer. However, when the voice of their landlord rang out and her knocking persisted, she quickly slid on her robe to open the door. She decided Mrs. Winters would have to get over the fact that she looked like death reincarnated. 

“Rough night, dear?” 

Raven grimaced for a moment, she did indeed look as terrible as she felt. 

“Something like that,” Raven offered a tight smile, her body slumping against the door. “W-what can I do for you, Mrs. Winters?” 

“Oh I’m just letting everyone know that we had a pipe burst on the floor above. We’ll have folks in and out and you might hear some noise and stuff. But if you see any leaking into your unit, give me a ring?” 

“Of course. Will do. Thanks, have a good one,” Raven tried her best to politely shoo the woman away. However, she lingered. 

“Oh I meant to tell you, that boyfriend of yours is just such a good egg. So kind and polite. Admittedly I haven’t met many famous people,” she laughed. “But you just don’t expect them to have such good manners, you know?” 

Raven stopped. “My boyfriend?? Sorry… When was he here?” 

“He stopped by this morning. Gave me a check for your rent for the rest of your lease. Oh and asked where your mailbox was, said he wanted to drop something in it.” 

Raven was worried her jaw might come completely unhinged as the woman spoke. 

He did what?? 

“Are you alright, dear??” 

“Y-Yea, yea. Just… a bit of a surprise. Thank you.” 

And with that, Raven immediately closed the door, not listening to the elderly woman’s reply. 

“This nigga… I hate him,” she muttered to herself as she slumped against her door. 

Every cell in her body knew that was not true. But she also knew that everything she had told him last night was still accurate. She was too tired to forgive him and not just him… anyone ever again. The world has used up all of her second chances and she did not have it in her heart to be disappointed by him again. The narrative in her brain was so set in stone, she did not think anything he could say or do would make her believe anything else. She could not even make herself go retrieve the note that was apparently waiting for her in her mailbox. 

“Such a coward,” she grumbled as she flopped back into bed. 

She stared at her phone for several minutes, her text thread with Michael open. She wondered what she could even say? Thank you?

She knew any conversations demanding she pay him back or he rescind the money would be moot. Even if she had the mental fortitude to argue with him right now, she would still lose. But she could not just accept it without trying to push back. 

She typed and erased and typed and erased before lamely landing on: 

Raven: You can’t pay my entire rent. I can’t accept that. 

Raven: I don’t want that.

Michael: Yea you can. Told you… gonna show up every day tryin’ to fix us. You just gotta let me.

Raven: Money isn’t gonna fix this, Michael. 

Michael: I know. But it can fix the tangible things I fucked up for you

Michael: So let me fix that for you. 

Raven paused, as a warm sensation filled her, a warmth she had not felt in over a month now. The warmth of being cared for. She had never had someone take care of her without wanting something in return, except Michael. Even when their relationship was built on transactions, he still took care of her without needing or asking for something from her. The book deal, her rent were just the tangible examples of how he had stepped up to right the wrongs he could and she could not deny that those actions meant something, softened something inside her. 

He was doing exactly what he promised he would do the night before. He was fixing what could be, he was showing with his actions that she meant something to him. And yet, that blockade that stopped that belief from taking root was still there, still prohibiting her from believing these actions were anything more than a skilled manipulation. 

He would draw her back in, he would not change, and when he got ready, he would hurt her again. That’s what everyone in her life did. 

Raven: It doesn’t change anything

Michael: I know… didn’t expect it to.

She tossed her phone to the side and grabbed her pillow, screaming into it as her frustration got the better of her. The complex web of conflicting feelings with Michael B. Jordan trapped at its center only continued to grow. She wanted him to let her go, to stop caring and trying and going out of his way for her because that fit into the narrative nailed to the cross of her brain, it would confirm her beliefs and fears. 

But instead he continued to do the things that made her fall in love with him the first time, things that only reignited the dimmed but still existent flame that was her love for him. And she knew she would never get over him if she kept letting that happen, kept letting him in. 

So she did not even respond. Instead, she just closed the thread and tossed her phone to the side. 

“Let him go, Rae,” she demanded to herself. “You don’t deserve him and he doesn’t love you.” She repeated that a few times before it felt real again, before all that had started to soften was once again as solid as a block of ice. 

***

“You look like shit,” Alex moaned as she watched Michael’s makeup artist, Shanta, struggle to make him look less like a living zombie ahead of his Oprah interview. 

They were tucked away in a suite in Oprah's sprawling LA estate. It was difficult to make Michael feel poor but Oprah was certainly one of the few people in the world who could do so. 

“Thanks, appreciate that.” 

“You know I don’t believe in lying to you. Make sure you get those bags under his eyes,” she instructed. “Alright, this is it. Final stretch. Movie’s out and every review is stellar so far. Do this interview, it’ll air this week, Oscars on Sunday and then you can sleep. Though I bet it’s not the schedule keeping you up? Talked to her since the premiere?” 

Michael forced his body not to sag at the mention of Raven as to not disturb the hard work of the woman trying to make him look alive after days of no sleep.  

“She texted me about the rent thing the next morning. But it’s been radio silence ever since.” 

It had only been a few days since the fiasco after the premiere but Michael’s concern for Raven had not diminished one bit. He  could not let her go as she requested but he tried his hardest to respect her desire for space. His heart was stuck in the quicksand that was Raven and he had no desire to pull himself out. He wanted to be right there. He knew eventually he would have to accept defeat, accept that she had moved on. But he could not do it while she still questioned her own deservedness. She could hate him for the rest of his life, it would be her right. But his soul could not allow her to live thinking so lowly of herself. So if he had to pay 30 years of rent or call in favors to make her life easier and make her see that she deserved care and someone to sacrifice for her, he would do it. It was high time someone in her life put her above themselves. 

“Well, at least she talked to you. That’s something. You’re doing what she asked. Sis has lived a life, she needs time and space. Keep doing what you're doing. Except for the no sleep. For the love of God, by the Oscars, please get a good night’s rest. That’s your night.” 

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, Alex…” 

She scoffed. “You’ve won the big four, Mike. It’s not just because I believe you deserve it… Statistically, Best Actor is yours. The Oscars is your night. Have a little faith in yourself.” 

“I hear you. I just don’t wann-” 

“Excuse me?” A young man poked his head in the door. “Apologies for interrupting. I’m a PA. Just wanted to let you know that we’re almost ready? I can take you out to the garden when you’re ready.” 

“Be right out. Thank you,” Alex called. 

Shanta did her last quick finishing touches before Alex gave him her customary once over. 

“Shanta, my girl, you’re a miracle worker per usual.” 

They both offered Shanta their thanks, Michael rolling his shoulders before heading out the door to walk out to the gardens. 

He had met and interviewed with Oprah once before so he was not particularly nervous. But despite having done millions of interviews, there was always a kernel of nerves right beforehand that he could just never shake. 

He was dressed in slacks and a light black sweater, thankful for a cooler day as he walked out into her expansive gardens where the Oprah Winfrey waited for him. The cameras were already rolling, capturing footage that may or may not make into the hour-long special. 

“The man of the hour!” she called, her arms stretched wide to wrap Michael in a hug. “Actually I think man of the year is more appropriate. Welcome. I can’t tell you how excited I am to have you here.” 

“Thank you, thank you. It’s so good to be here.”

“Have a seat,” she gestured at the very comfy chair across from hers. “And we can jump right in.” 

***

Raven’s head was propped against her fist as she stared at her computer. A sentence. That was the grand total of her hard work for that Wednesday afternoon. But it was something, she supposed. Weeks of hard work had amounted to maybe two or three pages of her book. She had been offering Angelina vague answers on her progress, ducking and dodging her to avoid admitting that there was no way in hell she could have a draft by March 15 like they talked about. 

“Rae? You busy?” 

She turned in her chair toward the door to find Tiffany’s head poking in. 

“Nope… I’ll never be busy again at this rate,” she grumbled. “What’s up?” 

“I just turned on the interview… if you want to watch?” 

Raven scratched her head, unsure if she could even watch him? See him happy and thriving without her? Despite everything happening between them though, she could not pretend there was not a part of her that still wanted to celebrate this moment in his career. Interviewing with Oprah the week he was poised to win his first Oscar? How could she ever forgive herself if she did not watch this? Even if it hurts? 

“I’ll… be there in a sec. Thanks, Tiff.” 

Raven let out a deep sigh before she grabbed the blanket off her bed and dragged herself to the living room. The interview had already started and he looked gorgeous. Tired, she could tell, in the way he constantly had to readjust his posture, in the bags under his eyes that the makeup artist could not quite fully cover. But even at his worst, he looked captivatingly good. 

Raven found herself studying him so intently that she did not even comprehend the words he and Oprah were sharing. She just watched him and his mannerisms, she focused on the glimmer in his eyes that sparked every so often. She missed looking into his eyes, missed how expressive they were.  

This moment only amplified how much she missed him, missed hearing the deep baritone in his voice and the spark in his eyes when he spoke about his passions. She missed his bright and uninhibited laughter, how his hands were always on her in some way. She just missed him. But she had pushed him away, had told him to let her go. And even if he had not fully let go of her yet, she felt too scared to open that door again, even if her soul ached for her to. Particularly when he continued to try to show up for her in small ways. 

And despite how angry she still wanted to be at him, she had never had anyone show up for her quite like this… try for her like he did. And everyday, her brain took up far more mental space than it should have, debating whether she should follow her foolish heart and forgive him or listen to her logical brain and cast him aside. Days passed and she still did not know the answer. 

“So I’ll admit,” Raven’s ears finally started to pick up the conversation between Oprah and Michael, “I watched Waves more times than appropriate. But Gayle and I saw it at Sundance and we both thought it was just the most heartbreaking and poignant look at loss and grief that we had ever seen. While still being engaging and funny and so relatable. The journey your character goes through is just… I mean I think grief is one of the few universal experiences that we all will have at some point. And you really brought that to life through this character and his struggles with addiction. And the fact that you filmed this while engaged in completely different projects with complex characters like Killmonger in Black Panther and Adonis in Creed 3… I’m curious what you pulled from to give that performance?” 

Michael shifted in his seat as he chuckled, Raven had missed how passionate he got about this project, even though he had been talking about it and doing press for it since they first started dating. She knew he had not truly expected the role to blow up in the ways it did but she could tell he was grateful for it, nonetheless. 

“Well first, thank you. Yea aside from Oscar Grant, Andre was the hardest character I’ve ever played and he stretched me as an actor in ways, you know, I didn’t really expect? And I learned so much from him in his sort of journey through grief. You know, when I read the first script, the line ‘grief is the final stage in love’s evolution,’ really stuck out to me. When you lose someone, grief, this enduring pain you feel, is that love shifting and changing because it has nowhere to go, there’s no outlet for it anymore. And so, Andre really reframed my own thoughts on grief and loss and how I process that and allowed me to pull from personal experiences with loss to pour into that character.” 

“Yea I will say, that line was one of my favorites. I sat with that long after the credits rolled.” 

“Yea same. I remember sitting a-and thinking about that one for a while after reading it. And I loved that even in the more comedic moments of this movie, we still had those lines that made you wanna stop and really sit with what the characters were going through.”  

“Definitely, I was dissecting this movie for weeks after. It’s just amazing. So I do want to shift gears to talk about this moment you're experiencing because of this movie. This really is the biggest moment of your career. You’re nominated for your first Oscar and a favorite to win, so far in 2023, you’ve won a SAG Award, Golden Globe, and BAFTA. And you, as of two days ago, just had your directorial debut in Creed 3. First question, how are you still awake?” Both of them shared a laugh. “But serious question, how has this moment felt? How does it feel to be having this moment at this stage of your career?” 

“Oh wow, when you list it like that, I don’t know how I’m awake either,” he chuckled. “But seriously, you know… it’s been a ride. I know you’ve felt this too but you know, you don’t often take a moment to just pause and soak it in. You finish one interview or award show and your mind automatically just jumps to the next one. And I think what I’ve been trying to force myself to do in the later weeks of this insane time is just to slow down and enjoy it. Not rush through it and really enjoy the fruits of… really years of hard work and sacrifice. But that also means sitting with… you know, the challenges of this time too, which isn’t as rewarding,” he admitted with a sad smile. “But I’m growing and learning alot so it’s worth it.” 

Oprah nodded. “You know I always appreciate when people don’t let the 24 hour news cycle and gossip sort of steal their thunder and moment from them. And I applaud you for sort of moving through the more gossipy side of the last few months with grace and maturity. But you haven’t really talked much publicly about those stories and the effect they have had on you. And you don’t have to get into it if you don’t want but I am curious on how you navigated that and really came out on the other side, from what I can see, stronger for it?”

Michael bowed his head and chuckled. “Um… you know a good friend of mine told me that she thought this was the most vulnerable and most genuine I had ever been publicly on this press tour and I think it’s because I’ve had to navigate some really personal stuff during this great but hectic public moment? And that’s new territory for me.” 

“And I think that friend is right. I don’t think we have seen or learned this much about you ever.” 

“Yea and I wish I could take some credit for it but… it was all one person: Raven Turner. And the way we met, now as the world knows, was extremely unconventional and I can admit that our relationship started as a complete lie. A lie I thought would help me be seen as this serious, mature man my team was worried I wasn’t. And I wasn’t,” he admitted. “I was cold and guarded and not at all the best version of myself. And while I regret how we started and trying to fool the world into thinking I’m something I’m not, there isn’t a bone in my body that regrets falling in love with her.” 

He leaned forward a bit as he spoke. “Because all those walls and barriers we build around ourselves to survive in this world of Hollywood? To endure the criticisms and insanity we deal with? She's the first woman to see me. Not the actor and the money and the fame but just me. And in that, she saved me… without trying or intending to. She just loved me and loving her, choosing her is the single greatest decision I ever made. And I hate how this moment has fallen on her, how my terrible decisions led to these pretty disgusting misogynistic attacks on her. And I think my biggest regret is putting someone as pure as her in the line of fire like that and not doing enough to protect her. And you know, I have to live with that, which is tough.” 

“You know I’ve interviewed thousands of people in my career and while I believe you have to change for yourself and on your own, I also have found that the ones who love us, really love us, are often the most powerful catalysts for change in our lives. I’ve certainly seen and experienced that in my own life and it’s important to spotlight those who were that catalyst.” 

“Oh 100%. Especially when, I think this version of me was always there? I was just too hurt to trust anyone with it, so no one saw it. I buried me under this facade I thought was better? But I fell in love with a woman who taught me that you can’t be guarded, you can’t shut down just because you’re hurt. Life is about getting up every day, being authentically you, and reaching out and loving and risking your heart every time. And sometimes you’ll get swatted away and sometimes you’ll get an embrace. But you just deny yourself love when you don’t show up at all. So I’ve been trying to live by that more lately. Because she showed me what real strength and courage looks like. And I want to have that, I want to lead with that.” 

“Wow… you know people are going to watch this and I think, applaud that vulnerability. It’s refreshing to me because I don’t think our world incentivizes or encourages people to admit when they aren’t being their best selves. So I think for you to do that, at a moment when you’re at the top of your game, is commendable.” 

“She deserves to know the positive effect she’s had on my life. To be celebrated for how she supported me. And you know it’s not just me? When we first started dating, I remember her one stipulation was that we couldn’t go out on Wednesday evenings because she hosted a book club for kids at the library she worked at. And that was the most important thing to her, being there for them. The day of our first date, she spent an hour delivering books and SAT prep books to those same kids she worked just because. There’s just a selflessness to her that is truly admirable. And I think while people are attacking her and calling her these vile names because she made a certain choice during a hard time, they should know who she really is. A woman that would drop everything to help you even when you don’t really deserve it. A woman who I’ve seen give others all she had because they needed it more even when she did not have a backup plan for herself. I could honestly talk about her for the rest of this interview because she deserves celebration far more than I ever could. Genuinely good people don’t always get the shine they deserve, they don’t always get the love and care they deserve because we can often take them for granted. But no one deserves to be celebrated more than her, to be celebrated loudly more than she does.” 

“I love that… she seems like quite the woman.” 

“She is… and I hope she knows that.” 

“So tell me about…” 

The words faded away as his words tumbled through Raven’s head. They clashed jarringly against every belief she had internalized about herself, like metal against metal. But she found herself wanting to believe him. Believe the words a section of the world just heard. She wanted to believe that what he saw in her, even over the course of six months, was who she truly was. Not this broken, damaged scapegoat life had fashioned her into. 

There has to be more than this, right? 

Tiffany nudged her with a box of tissues in her hand. Raven had not even realized she was crying but she accepted them gratefully. 

“Don’t know how I still have tears over this man left,” she whispered as she wiped her eyes. 

“I don’t think those tears are because of him, sis.” 

Raven sniffled and grabbed another tissue. “You m-might be onto something. I can’t watch anymore. Night, Tiffany.” 

However, before she reached her bedroom, she heard Tiffany call her name. 

“I know what he did… sucks. And hurts. But that’s a man who loves you, Rae. More than anything. After that? The only person in the world who still won’t believe it is you.”

She turned around to face her, the back of her hand wiping away a few more stray tears. “You know he said the same thing?” 

“Well, I generally don’t think actors are that smart,” Tiffany admitted with a laugh. “But he’s right about that. You deserve to believe good things about yourself, we all do.”

“Nothing good has ever lasted… I always ruin it somehow. I tried to believe I deserved him and life proved that I didn’t,” she answered, her voice small. “D-Don’t have it in me to try again.” 

“Raven… I know we aren’t best friends or anything. But how many times have I watched you forgiven your dad and sister? Let them back in, try to make things right with them? Try to build the family you want?” 

“Too many…” 

“Right… So why does Michael only get one shot when you found the strength to give them 100? When he’s the one actually showing up for you? He’s the one who actually is trying to earn another chance?”  

“It’s not that simple and you know it.” 

“I know that the only person denying you happiness right now… is you. You push away the good people and things in your life because you feel like you don’t deserve it but no one would be here if you didn’t. Michael, the kids in your book club… me. I don’t keep signing leases with you because you’re a terrible person who ruins everything, no one has a gun to our heads, Rae. We’re here because you do deserve it.” 

“Tiff…” 

“Nope, shut up. This pity party is getting old and tired. It doesn’t matter what I think of you… or what Michael thinks or anyone out there.” She gestured toward the window. “All that matters is the narrative you’ve created and until you decide to believe something else, all you’re going to do is push people away and fuck up and self sabotage because it’s all you think you deserve. You gotta wake up and do some fucking work, girl. Cause until you figure out how to erase this narrative from your brain, you’ll never be happy. And you’ll never fall in love with anyone except for someone who treats you like crap. You’ll never build your own family. You’ll never finish your book or have another fulfilling career. You’ll just be stuck in this broken version of yourself alone… forever. And I’ve seen a few different versions of you over the last two years but this is by far the most pitiful.”

Raven had never heard Tiffany be so blunt. The words were biting but she could not deny that some of them rang true in her ears. And that was always the hardest information to hear. 

“Damn… tell me how you really feel.” 

“The soft gentle love wasn’t resonating clearly so had to go with a different tactic…. Just think about it. And once you fix all this shit and move to a mansion in the hills, don’t forget about me.” She winked at her, causing Raven’s jaw to drop slightly. 

“How do you even know that’s gonna happen?” 

She shrugged and grabbed the remote to press play, Raven not even noticing that she paused it.

“Just got a good feeling about the two of you. Now go so I can lust after him in peace while he's still single. Kidding! Kinda..."

Raven let out a small laugh as she shook her head. "I know you're not kidding. Night, Tiff.” 

She slid into her bed, her only refuge of late, and stared at the ceiling. She was surprised she was not tired of looking at it by now. Michael and Tiffany’s words wrestled with her own thoughts for hours

What was her problem, really? It was not that what Michael did was unforgivable because it wasn’t. Some distant part of her, too quiet to break through the noise of her anger, always wondered if there was more to the story, believed that he had to have had some reason. But she was too angry to allow him to explain. It just became vicious ammunition that no one could ever love her or care about her… that she was the problem. 

Well, that’s true… no one’s ever loved you. And everyone who does leaves. 

She supposed her mother must have loved her, but she would never know. She would never feel it. And her grandmother’s love was so distant, so long ago, that it no longer felt tangible, was no longer a tether to anchor her self worth to something positive.

Instead, the only thing that tethered her sense of self worth to anything was her family’s disdain. Disdain that made her question what Michael could’ve seen in her, how he could ever love someone like her? That disdain which made it far easier to believe that what he did was proof that he did not love her than that he possibly did do it to protect her in some weird way. No other thought could live long enough in her brain to take hold. 

And she did not know if doing what Tiffany suggested would fix that. There was not enough time in the world for her muster the courage to interrogate and confront the source of these feelings. She had hoped she would never have to see her family again. Some days, never felt like too soon.

But she knew she could not avoid it. They were the root cause, the narrative in her head was fueled and sustained by them. And screaming at them across the Thanksgiving table and never speaking to them again was not the closure she needed. She thought she had dropped the weight that was her family when she cut them off. But she was still dragging all the luggage they gave her around and it was time to give it back. 

She knew her family did not want to see her either, knew it would be difficult to get them to even speak to her after everything. But she knew she had to try… because she knew there had to be more to life than this. That she had not been born to only suffer through life instead of live it. So she needed to confront her demons for herself, even if her relationship with them did not change one bit.  

She grabbed her computer and her wallet. It was time to go home.

***

Raven’s eyes remained trained on her dad’s house across the street as she sat in her rental car. She was almost shocked that none of her family’s nosy neighbors had not called the police yet as she sat there for nearly an hour, summoning the courage to actually go inside. 

She had felt so sure this was what she needed when she bought her plane ticket. And that confidence did not waver when she stepped onto the plane or during the long journey from LAX to Charlotte, NC. However, once she was in her rental car, she found herself waffling, aimlessly driving around for hours. Her brain seemed unable to direct her to the place she knew she needed to go. Home. 

She just could not make herself do it… not yet anyway. So she did not. Instead, she finally went to her hotel to try to get some rest and her night’s rest turned into the entire Friday holed up in her hotel. She had not booked a return ticket, prayerful and hopeful that there would be a reason to stick around for a few days. But that also meant she did not have the incentive of time to make her move faster. 

But she could not even make herself do this. Because she did not know how to be brave like this. Her life had been nothing but running from pain and confrontation. This was so contrary to that. She did not know how to do any of this. She tossed and turned all night, unable to get any sleep particularly when there was only one person who she wanted to talk to, wanted to seek courage and strength from. Because when she felt scared, when she did not feel strong, he was the only person she wanted to reach for. But she was not sure he would even answer. She had pushed him away, told him she needed space. 

But she had not felt like she could do this alone. So last night, she called him. 

“Rae! Everything ok?” he asked immediately, his question met with silence. 

Raven did not know what to say and regret filled her like ice water in her veins. But she knew it was too late to hang up, she had to see it through. She paid for that moment of weakness when she hit the call button as her throat closed at the sound of her voice. She found it impossible to speak, even if she knew what words to say.  

“I’ll wait until you’re ready, Rae. Got all night for you.” 

And she knew he was not just talking about waiting for her to speak. 

“Why?” she whispered, the simple word coming out in a strangled sound as she tried to push past the tightness in her throat. 

“Why what?” 

“Why even answer after everything I said to you? W-why do you keep trying?” 

“Because I love you,” he answered simply. “And you’re worth it. I’ll keep reaching out, baby girl. Even when you swat me away.” 

“You might be the only person who thinks that,” she whispered back as a tear fell. 

“I don’t think that’s true. But even if it was, knowing one person is in your corner is all you need sometimes.”

She laughed lightly. “That press tour got you only speaking in motivational boxing terms or something?” 

His deep laughter filled her ears and filled her soul with such joy that she had forgotten. She had forgotten what these moments felt like, the two of them on the phone or curled up together in bed, just talking. She missed it… she missed him. But she could not say it, could not bring herself to pull her body out of the water to make that long trek back up the cliff to where he waited for her. Everything in her brain screamed at her that she couldn’t do it, that she did not have it in her. And she hated herself for it. Hated how she clung to the ice barriers around her heart, even though they were utterly fractured and ready to fall. She just was not ready yet. 

She let out a shuddering breath as she hastily wiped away her falling tears. “I… don’t know why I called. I s-shouldn’t have called.”

“Call me anytime, Rae. I’ll always answer. I’ll always show up for you. I hope you know that… at least.” 

“Y-Yea… I think I do… or at least, it’s getting harder to deny it,” she revealed. “Your interview with Oprah… it was really good,” she offered lamely. 

“You watched??” she could hear the surprise in his voice. 

“Yea… I almost didn’t,” she admitted. “But I caught most of it. Did you mean it? Everything you said?” 

“Every single word.” There was no arguing with the definitive tone in his voice. “I get that you don’t trust me anymore. I lied and kept secrets. But one thing I never lied about is how much I love you.”  

Her eyes clenched shut for a moment. That was one thing he had always been consistent about, her ears had just been perpetually shut to it. 

“I… um… I gotta go. Early day tomorrow,” she lied as she sniffled. “I’m sorry for bothering you. Bye, Michael.” 

She was not sure what she had expected to get from that call and, at first, it felt as if she only got a firm kick in the heart for it. But for the first time since she landed, Raven had enough strength to finally drive to her family’s house. She had rolled her eyes at his boxing motivational quotes but hearing someone say they were in her corner, that had given her courage. To just feel like someone was behind her, even if she was alone, that meant something to her. 

She took a deep breath and got out of her car, forcing her legs to carry her to the front door. 

Her rounds of knocks went unanswered, Raven getting slightly frustrated but determined not to leave the porch. If she turned around and walked away, she’d never come back. 

After an extremely brief internal debate, she decided to simply let herself in, deciding that since she contributed to the mortgage, she had a right to come in as she pleased. And her father still, foolishly, kept a spare key underneath the welcome mat.

Though she had not been to her family’s home in two years or so, it still looked the same. Her father’s favorite work boots were thrown haphazardly at the door, several pairs of her sister’s shoes lined up next to them. She was an utter mess but she was, at least, somewhat neat. And it still felt… cold. And it had nothing to do with the cold winter east coast weather. The house had always felt like that, void of warmth and love that made a home a home. 

“Kiara?” she called out. “Dad?” However, she was met with utter silence. 

Part of her supposed she was thankful they were not home and that they had not just ignored her or something. She stood in the living room, staring around the room at the pictures that lined the walls and shelves. So many of her mom, her dad, and Kiara but there were none of her. That was not a surprise, it had always been that way. But that did not make it sting any less. All they had ever wanted was to erase her from their lives and if a stranger walked into this house, it would be as if she never existed.

She started up the stairs, her eyes refusing to linger long on any of the photos there. They were all lies anyway, a picture perfect family that did not exist because she had been born. She decided to ascend to the attic once she made it upstairs. Because that was where all her grandmother’s and some of her own things now lived. She had never really gone through her grandmother’s things after she passed, no one aside from her dad to pack them up. But she knew there was so much of their lives, so many memories she had forgotten of the one person who loved her, forgotten in those boxes that she now desperately needed to remember. 

She ignored how narrow the opening to the attic was, realizing that it had been easier to maneuver up here when she was a young teenager. Everything was still neatly packed away as if her grandmother would be back one day to pick it up. 

She started to open each box, pulling out and examining her grandmother’s things, so many beautiful things forgotten in this attic no one went into. For the first time in nearly two decades, she felt close to the only maternal figure she had ever had, felt like her grandmother’s hand was on her shoulder as she reminisced on their short but well-lived time together. 

She found the old costume jewelry her grandmother used to let her play with, laughing to herself as she thought back to dressing up in front of her vanity mirror pretending to be a model or whatever silly idea the pair had thought up. She almost cried as she found a very crumpled piece of paper with the last story she gave her grandmother to read before she died, a random short story that she had written for class. She had not realized, as she found a folder, just how many of her stories her grandmother had kept. 

A gold glint caught her attention, Raven reaching into a giant box to find a shoe box. Raven had seen that box 100 times but her grandmother had never let her touch it, claiming that it held priceless family heirlooms that she did not want Raven or Kiara to mess up. Raven rolled her eyes that something her grandmother had valued so much had been discarded and forgotten haphazardly at the bottom of this box. 

Finally giving into her childhood curiosity, she opened it. It was still filled with things, part of her thankful that Kiara had never found it. The jewelry and pieces in it were gorgeous and indeed priceless. She took her time as she examined each one, wondering if they had belonged to her mother or her grandmother or some other relative she never met. However, it was what existed underneath the jewelry that caught her eye: piles of tied up envelopes, one with her name on it and one with Kiara’s. 

The handwriting was not her grandmother’s, which made Raven even more curious. 

She pulled out the stack with her name on it and undid the thin ribbon that tied them together. There were ten letters there in total, each one with a different note scribbled on the envelope. 

To Raven on your 18th birthday 

To Raven on high school graduation 

To Raven after your first love 

To Raven after your first heartbreak

To Raven on college graduation 

To Raven on your wedding day 

She only had to flip through a few of them to realize who they were from. Her mom. 

“You’re killing me,” she muttered to the sky, unsure if she was speaking to God, her grandmother, her mother or all three. 

Her hands trembled slightly as she ripped open the one on top, addressed to her on her 18th birthday. These were some of the only words her mother would get to say to her, she did not care how long ago she should have read it. She would savor each one. 

To my sweet darling girl, 

If you are reading this, it means that I am not physically there with you on your birthday. It means that I’ve missed 18 birthdays and too many milestones to write a letter for and for that, I am sorry. You might be wondering why there is not a letter for all those milestones and birthdays that have taken place but this felt like the best place to start and the appropriate age for reading the musings of a dying woman. If there’s even such a thing.

We learned your gender today. Another sweet girl. If the doctor somehow got it wrong, these letters will be incredibly awkward. But I know they are right. Because you, my darling girl, are the manifestation of my wildest dreams. I dreamed of you almost a year ago, this beautiful girl with half my face but all of my spirit and personality. And every night since then, I prayed, begged God to make that dream a reality… no matter the cost. And he did. 

I know my body is not strong enough to be your mother, to be around to be the mother someone as brilliant as you will deserve. But I hope you know that deciding to have you and keep you, regardless of the risks, is the single greatest decision I ever made. You were not an accident or a misfortune given to me. You are my dreams. And if my last moments on this earth are spent looking at you, it will have been worth it. 

I waited until 18 to start these letters because I worried a child could never understand the choice I made. And you may still not. And if you resent me for leaving you before you could know me, I understand that too. But I hope that through these letters, you will get to know me. And you will feel some semblance of the immense love I have for you. 

I don’t have much advice because you’ve likely heard it all at this point. But the two most important things I can tell you, that I wish someone had told 18 year old me, is to know that failure is part of the journey. Your grandmother used to always tell me to keep reaching out your hand even if it doesn’t work. I didn’t really understand it soon enough but I hope you do. Life is about risks and if you don’t reach out your hand out of fear, you’ll protect yourself from pain but you will also miss out on the gifts God is trying to hand you. As a daughter, I hated to admit it, but mama was right about that… and so many other things. 

And finally, more importantly than anything else I could offer you in these letters, please remember every day that you are so, so loved. 

Know that regardless of what happened to me, I loved you with every fiber of my being until my last breath. Know that you were a gift from God. And every day you venture out into this world, know that you are worthy of so much because you were so loved from the moment you were dreamed up. Do not let anyone or whatever will happen to you in what I pray is a long, rich, happy life diminish that light, diminish your worth. I know how special you are and I don’t even know your name yet. And while I hope that your father and grandmother will affirm you daily, you don’t need other people to tell you that you are special. You have to know it for yourself. That’s the most important advice I can give you. Know who you are and your worth and take up as much space in this world as you want. And as long as you never forget how special you are… how deserving you are, you’ll move through this world shining bright. And the world will be forced to know it too and move to give you what you deserve. It’s not much and a bit cliche perhaps but I’ve been torn down enough to know that sometimes we all need the reminder. But those are stories for another letter. 

By the time I write my next letter, I promise I will have picked out a name for you. I read a book the other day where the main character was named Raven… I had not thought of it before but I like it. 

Happy Birthday. 

Love, 

Mom

The river of tears streaming down Raven’s face splashed against the slanted handwriting on the page, Raven quickly whisking them away so the words would remain legible. Raven did not even know how long she sat there staring at the words on the page, her heart bursting with the knowledge that her mother’s hand had touched this very paper, that she had poured her heart and soul into every word etched into it. 

It was like proof she had been real and not this entity Raven had conjured up in her head. Raven could not stop herself from ripping open all the ones that she should have gotten along the way. The one for her first love and the separate one on heartbreak were four pages each, and Raven did not pay attention to the clock as she absorbed each and every word. 

Everything she had learned about her mother had been through her grandmother and she had always wondered if her grandmother told her things just to make her feel better. But she realized that her grandmother had been telling the truth, she and her mother were so much alike. She found herself nodding and laughing along to her mother’s stories and wisdom embedded in all those pages. She was a prolific storyteller too and an amazing writer, another trait Raven realized she must have inherited from her.

For the first time in 30 years, Raven did not feel weighed down by this unbearable guilt. She felt lighter than she had ever been in her entire life. Perhaps this was what God wanted her to find here, not a confrontation with her family, but these words. This tangible proof that her mother had chosen her, wanted her… loved her and that she had not ruined anything at all. 

Her mother would not have wanted her to carry such guilt around for so long because there was nothing to be guilty about. 

The letters were scattered across the attic floor when she heard the faint sound of their garage opening. She quickly folded up all of her letters and stuffed them back into the box, tucking it under her arm as she climbed out of the attic. She did not make much noise as she closed up the attic, just as she heard her father and sister close the garage door and enter the kitchen. 

Their voices drifted up to her ears as she started to climb down the stairs, deciding that she might as well get the pure unpleasantness of this moment over with. 

“Wait… you hear that? Is someone in the house??” she heard her sister ask, knowing that they both could hear her footsteps against the old floorboards. 

“Don’t get your gun,” she called out as she started down the stairs. “It’s just me.” 

She was greeted with less-than-welcoming expressions from her family, such disdain that it made her want to scurry away. But she did not. She had done enough of that in her life.

“Adding breaking and entering to your criminal activity, now?” 

Raven scoffed as she placed the box on the kitchen counter that stood between her and her family. 

“Don’t think you can break into a house you helped pay for?” she answered coolly. “And I’m not the one with a mug shot here if I remember correctly.” 

“No you’re just the one who sold her cheap ass for a quick buck.” 

Raven shook her head, opening and closing her mouth for a few moments as she tried to find the words. 

“Yea I did… And I’m not proud of it,” Raven admitted. “But I won’t let you or anyone shame me for doing what I needed to do to survive. What helped the two of you survive too.” Raven scratched her head, realizing that trying to get closure from her family was unnecessary. Her mother’s words had given her all the closure she had ever needed. That’s what she had come home for. 

“You know, I got a plane ready to rip you both a new one for 30 years of abuse and torture. To try to force you to admit that I’m not the villain you made me to be. But… I don’t need that anymore. Because the cross of guilt and shame you two forced onto my back for all these years isn’t one I should have to carry. But I did because I thought it was the only way to keep you two around. And even without you two in my life, I still drag that cross around because I thought I deserved it. But I realized today, way too late, that I don’t need a damn thing from either of you to put it down.” 

“So you came here to what? To chastise us and steal?” her father asked, gesturing toward the box on the counter. 

“You can’t steal things that belong to you. These are letters mom wrote to me,” she lifted the open letters out before sliding the unopened pile to her sister. “And to you.” 

“Your mother wrote these?” he asked, his jaw tensing as he looked down at the stack. 

“Yeah, she did. You’ll enjoy yours… she was a really good storyteller,” she glanced at Kiara. “These letters just told me something I should’ve realized long before Thanksgiving. That cross? That guilt? It isn’t mine. And I am done wasting my life trying to rectify the mistake of being born. Because it wasn’t a mistake. She chose me… prayed for a second daughter knowing the cost and she decided it was worth it. And hearing her say that? That’s all I need to know that I deserve so much more than this… so much more than you.” She took a deep breath. “Being a grieving husband isn’t an excuse to be a terrible father and I’ll just be grateful I found some way to survive you and this. And jealousy doesn’t give you the right to be a shitty sister.” 

“What the fuck do I have to be jealous of??” 

“I always wondered that. But reading those letters… I finally got it. Because even as a failed author and prostitute, I’m everything she was. Grandma used to always say I had her personality… her talent. I always thought she was lying to make me feel better. But you knew she wasn’t and you could never stand it. Couldn’t stand that I was more like her than you.” For the first time, her sister was speechless. A good look on her in Raven’s opinion. “Mom wanted so much better for me than this and I’m gonna go and find it. Because I’ve wasted too much energy trying to earn the love of people who don’t deserve it. So if you want to go to your graves hating me, making me the scapegoat for every problem in your miserable lives, have at it. But know that I don’t hate you even after all this. I won’t be weighed down anymore by any feelings toward either of you ever again. You aren’t worth it.”

Raven pulled herself to full height and rolled her shoulder back as she scooped up the box and folder she had taken from her grandmother’s stuff. 

“Now I’m gonna go and have that long… rich and happy life mom wanted for me. And I hope you two do the same.” 

She did not look behind her as she walked away, a soft smile on her face as she walked out of her family’s house for the last time.

She let out a long laugh as she sat in her car, so much of the weight she had been carrying around gone. It did not feel sad like when she cut off her family at Thanksgiving. She finally felt as if she had cut the anchor away and she could float away, she could move forward and heal all the broken pieces of herself that they had gleefully chipped away at. 

When she got back to her hotel room, she just kept rereading her mom’s words. She would memorize each letter at this point. A part of her desperately wanted to open the other ones but she had not reached those milestones just yet so she left them where they were. For some reason, she worried her mother would disapprove of her breaking into them early. 

One line of five letters she read and reread stuck to her bones above all else. And of course, as if her mother had known, it was embedded in the letter for her first love. Love… the thing that had cracked her wide open and brought her to this moment in the first place.

You’d be surprised to know that this was the hardest of the letters to write. Because everyone has some prolific idea of what love is and feels like. And I realized I don’t… because I don’t think I’ve ever experienced the love I pray you are as you read this. That’s not to say I don’t love your father, I do. But I want something different than convenience for you. I hope that the love you feel is safe, allows you to feel the full spectrum of what it means to be human - strong and vulnerable, insecure and confident, boisterous and timid. I hope it feels like stepping out of the cold air and into a warm embrace. I hope it is loud and unapologetic because you deserve nothing less. And I hope it makes you feel so enraptured that everything else in the world goes quiet. And lastly, I hope, more than anything, that it feels like home. That when you’re in this person’s embrace, you feel as if your soul finally landed right where it is supposed to be. 

Her eyes scanned that passage over and over again, realizing that she had found the exact love her mother described. She had come back here thinking she was coming home. But this wasn’t home at all. Home was where he was. And he was back in LA, about to prepare for the biggest night of his life in 24 hours. And regardless of whatever trust needed to be rebuilt and conversations needed to be had, she could not allow herself to miss it. She could not allow herself to not show up for him.

Raven scrambled to find her phone as it was hidden beneath sheets of paper. She scrolled through, praying she had not deleted a long forgotten group thread that housed one number she had once thought she would never need but now was the most important phone number in the world. 

She almost shouted praises to God when she found it, clicking the call button on the unsaved number. She paced up and down beside her bed as every agonizing ring dragged on. 

“Didn’t think I’d see your name pop up on my phone ever again.” 

Raven let out a sigh of relief as her voice filled her ears. “I know… me either. But I need a favor.” 

“Does it involve a certain award show tomorrow night?” 

“Yes. Is it too late?” 

“Yea it is.” she knew Alex could hear the tiny sigh of sadness she let out. “For anyone but me. I’ve earned enough favors around here to create a miracle or two.”

“Really?? Cause I need like more than one or two miracles… a dress, hair, makeup… hell a flight from Charlotte to make it back in time. Without him knowing?”

“Consider all of it done. Hope you don’t mind getting up at the ass crack of dawn though.” Alex asked, Raven hearing the smile in her tone. 

“For him… I’ll get up anytime.” 

“Good. Then I'll take care of everything... I'll have to tell his mom but she'll love this. And probably be happy as hell that she doesn't have to go anymore. I'll text you details in an hour."

"An hour?? That's all you need??"

"You're new here so I'm gonna choose to not be offended by that."  

"Noted." She was about to hang up when she stopped herself. “Hey… Alex? Thank you.” 

“Don’t mention it. Seriously. Just make sure your ass is on that plane and in LAX tomorrow when Allen picks you up, got it?” 

Raven chuckled. “Yea I got it. See you tomorrow.”

Tag List: @readinghere2023 @blackerthings @prettyisasprettydoes1306 @physicxal @purplehairgawdess @miyuhpapayuh @rueruesclues @geemamii @certifiedlesbianbaddie @pipsqueak-98 @nyifly22 @destinio1 @twocentaur @gopaperless @musicisme333 @roguekiki @majesticbrownjawn @taurusqueen83 @mysteryuz @miamormilan @itsknor-thedeep @naj-ay444 @mads-grace4 @nayaesworld @kholdkill @msniaimani @nccu-rnc @apenasumlug4r @dezzy154

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A/N: So now will y'all stop yelling at me LOLOL our good sis is going back to her man! We love to see it! How surprised do we think Michael's going to be? Part 11.2 will be the Oscars! Drop a comment and let me know what you thought! And as always, thanks for reading!

[bamboozledbird]

𝕚𝕗 𝕚 𝕔𝕠𝕦𝕝𝕕 𝕝𝕠𝕤𝕖 𝕪𝕠𝕦 𝕚 𝕨𝕠𝕦𝕝𝕕 pt.2 // stiles stilinski imagine

Characters: Stiles Stilinski, fem!reader, Theo Raeken, Lydia Martin Pairing(s): Stiles x you, Theo x you (no use of y/n) Word Count: 5.3k Tags: a fix-it for y'all bc i'm a pushover Warnings: Underage drinking (at least in america rip, they're all 19+), creepy guys in bars, emetophobia, new jersey slander (please forgive me jerseyans)

Request: for all you people i made cry with part 1. this is my love letter to you. A/N: you don't necessarily need to read part 1 to understand, but this is a follow-up to if i could lose you i would.

The night starts well enough. Theo’s hand is a warm, steadying weight against your lower back, and his cologne cuts through the vague funky smell clouding the bar. Lydia chose it; somehow, no matter the city, she always knows about the coolest, underground spots that seem to only circulate within an elite circle of twentysomethings. It really isn’t all that shocking when you think about it as you nurse your bitter cocktail; every single person who catches a glimpse of Lydia immediately craves her attention. Unfortunately for them, Lydia always takes you as her date, though lately she’s been ending your nights out at a stranger's apartment more often than not. She’s never said it, but you know it’s because, ever since the disastrous end to her start-of-summer bash, Theo's made himself a permanent third-wheel on girls’ night. He’s never said it, but you know he started tagging along because you’ve been distant since Stiles poured into your bedroom and pressed on all the bruises his fingertips left behind when he left you. You really thought you’d washed them all away with 3,000 miles, 3 months, and 3 weeks of the scrape of Theo’s teeth. 

You sip on your fourth drink of the evening, sitting on a barstool because your legs are too wobbly to stand on, and Theo watches you watch Lydia spin a girl with a radiant smile and glitter tinsel in her hair. 

“You wanna dance?” he hums in your ear. You can barely hear him over the bass and the buzz of too much tequila. 

You nibble on your straw and hiccup around it, “Don’t think I can.”

Theo makes a move to grab the drink in your hand, and you bend backwards to keep it out of his reach. “Come on,” he frowns, “you can’t even stand.”

“So?” you purse your lips petulantly and punctuate your point with a loud suck, draining the last few drops of your lime margarita through a few chunks of leftover ice.

Theo looks tired as he studies your face. “What the hell is going on with you? I see you every day, and I still don’t have a fucking clue.” 

You’re too drunk to pretend you don’t know what he’s talking about. Hiccupping again, your nose scrunches, “I’m just…I wanna go home.” Theo pats his jacket pockets for his keys, and you shake your head a few too many times. “No, not there.” Your stomach turns when you finally realize what you actually mean. You want to hitch a ride on the melting ice in your glass and dissolve into knotted hair on Sunday mornings, freckled skin washed with the shifting sun, and pouted pink lips, cursing the snooze button and your cold toes. You don’t say that. You’re drunk, not cruel. “I wanna go back to Stanford. I hate it here.”

Theo’s eyes are shadowed in the dim light of the club, but they’re calculating. “You really think that’s far enough?” 

Blinking slowly, your mind spins with the drinks in your stomach as you try and fail to think of something clever. “Feels far,” you mumble, and Theo doesn’t look reassured. It’s hard for you to differentiate pain from anger through watery eyes and the brume of tequila, but whatever emotion is darkening Theo’s expression, you think it’s justified. He’s smart enough to know what you mean. 

 His face goes blank as he searches for his keys again, “I think that’s enough fun for tonight.”

You shake your head and wriggle down further into the cradle of your hips, “I wanna stay.”

Theo exhales through his nose and runs a hand over his face, “I thought you wanted to go home.”

Your tongue is thick as you struggle for words, sniffling as they tease you from the fraying edges of consciousness. “Not there.” You know you sound like a baby, recycling the handful of words you can remember, and you know that tears will only make it worse, but they still bubble along your lash line.

“Stay at Lydia’s then,” Theo spits out through gritted teeth, but he shoves a napkin towards you to mop up your running mascara, so you forgive him. It’s your fault, after all. At least, you think so as you watch him leave. 

“Boyfriend troubles?” Your head lulls to the side as you blink dumbly, all big-eyed and glassy, at the stranger leaning against the bar beside you. He’s tall, well-built too, but you’re mostly focused on his pungent cologne. It’s hard not to; you’re suffocating in it. 

The man laughs and grabs your chin, shaking your head a little, “You’re adorable. How could anyone stay mad at you?” 

You recoil, wrenching your face from his sweaty grasp, and run your tongue over your teeth. “He’s not…” your protest gets lost in your throat when he steps into your space and slides his hand along your spine, just shy of your ass. Your dress is backless, completely exposed to his wandering gaze, and your skin crawls with the sensation of his fingertips grazing your back.

His breath is hot and wet on the shell of your ear, “You want to forget about it for a while, angel?” 

“No,” your head jerks from side to side, eyes screwed shut, “I don’t—I think I’m gonna puke.”

A wave of relief rolls over you when a red-taloned hand slithers between your bodies. Lydia shoves the stranger’s chest sharply, sending him stumbling into the stool behind him, and his hand falls from your hip. 

“Does it look like she wants to contract something from a limp-dicked lowlife in tacky shoes?” The top of Lydia’s head barely reaches his shoulder, but her eyes are sharp and her sneer is venomous. The creep has the good sense to look a little afraid. “You have exactly two seconds to get the hell out of here before I personally ensure you’re on every public sex offender registry from here to Quebec.”

She grabs your hand before he has the chance to disagree and pulls you into the bathroom. In comparison to the loud, muggy dancefloor, it’s a wonderful reprieve: an oasis of cold air and muffled bass. 

Lydia fusses over you for a minute; you wave off her concerns and push yourself onto the sink even though your arms feel distinctly gelatinous. You can tell she doesn’t believe you, but men preying on drunk women is a tragically large and present underbelly of girl world, so after a moment she turns her intense focus to the lighted mirror. She looks perfect—she always looks perfect—but she won’t believe anyone except her own reflection.

The aching strain in your arches slowly dissipates to a faint tingle the longer your feet dangle from the counter, your heels discarded below. They’re black strappy things from the back of Lydia’s closet, and so is the scrap of black silk that Prada has the audacity to call a dress. You are grateful, however, for the short hem and open back now that your skin finally has the chance to breathe. 

You watch Lydia apply her lipstick with a precision brain surgeons could only dream of, smiling lazily. She’s graceful with the slender brush, like Botticelli stroking a swathe of red silk over a canvas of smooth skin. You envy her, with your eyeshadow already melting below your waterline, but mostly you love her. So proud to have such a goddess for a best friend. 

Her head tilts as she smiles at you, and she must be at least a little godly because she doesn’t smear her lipstick when her mouth curves. “What?” she hums around her puckered lips. 

“Nothing,” your words slur together, “you’re just perfect.”

She tucks her lipstick into her clutch and shakes her head, “And you’re so drunk. Lethal, babe.”

“I love it,” you sigh as she starts fixing your hair, clicking her tongue when you start to fidget. You slump into her careful touch and watch her fingers smooth through a few knots near your ends. “Being drunk is my favorite.”

She twirls her finger, indicating you should turn around, and begins twisting your flattened curls into an elegant bun. “I’ve noticed,” she mutters through the bobby pin clutched between her teeth, “you’ve been drinking more than you’ve sober lately.”

“It’s summer!” You blow a curl off of your nose and close your teary eyes so that your mascara doesn’t flake onto your cheeks, “You’re supposed to be drunk.”

Lydia hums and pulls a few strands of hair loose to artfully frame your face. “I didn’t realize alcoholism was seasonal.”

“You,” you bop her nose and giggle when it scrunches under your finger, “are being a major buzzkill. Don’t kill my buzz; that’s murder in the first.”

“Someone has to be.” Lydia leans her hip against the sink, and her brows curve, “Where’s Theo? I thought he was your DD tonight?”

You let the intoxication sweep over your senses because it’s easy and knock your ankles together like a child on the swings. “He left,” you chirp.

“He what?”

Your bottom lip juts out a little, “I think I hurt his feelings.”

Lydia is incensed. She tosses her hair over her shoulder and mutters a few choice words under her breath, “I’m going to hurt a lot more than that when I find him.” You curl in on yourself a little, and she sighs, unwinding her fingers from tight fists as her eyes soften. “He really left you here?” she asks quietly.

You shrug, refusing to feel sorry for yourself, and make grabby hands at her sleeves, “It’s okay. You’re here, and you’re my best friend, and I love you.”

She laces your fingers together and squeezes your hand, “It is not okay. That creep had you halfway to his car.”

You shudder at memory, and feel the ghost of the stranger’s clammy hand against your lower back, “But you rescued me. So it’s okay.” 

You frown at Lydia’s frown and push her cheeks together, squishing her mouth into a crinkled half-smile. She rolls her eyes a little and takes your wrists in her hands gently, “He shouldn’t have left you. It was a shitty thing to do, babe.”

“I made him sad, I think.” You hiccup a little, “I think I always do.”

“He can’t leave you blackout drunk in a skeezy bar just because you’re in love with someone else,” she huffs.

You tease the tip of your tongue through your front teeth, swinging your legs back and forth below the sink, “It wasn’t skeezy when you picked it.”

Lydia huffs again and folds her arms over her chest, “That was before I saw tall, dark, and creepy try to take you home.”

Your playful grin crumbles as your drunk-numb mind finally catches up with the burning behind your ribs. “I’m in love with someone else,” you say, voice sticky and thick in your throat. 

She lets out a sigh so soft you wonder if you just imagined it and takes both of your hands, “I know.”

Whimpering quietly, you turn your nose into your shoulder, slightly embarrassed by the sound. “I’m sad about it.”

“I know,” Lydia combs a few strands of your hair off of your tear-tacky face and smiles a little, “let’s get you home, okay?”

Another round of nausea hits you as you finally realize that you’re truly, really, horrifically drunk, and you still can’t forget him. 

“I don’t think I know where that is anymore.” 

Lydia was able to corral you into an Uber after you puked a few times. She held your hair back and helped you brush your teeth. You cried a little when she wiped the sweat off of your face with a makeup wipe, watching her take care of you with big wet eyes, as she tucked you into bed like the baby tequila and heartbreak had turned you into. She made you promise to call her in the morning, and then she left you to sleep off the ache in your throat and the six margaritas in your bloodstream—or was it seven, you can’t remember. 

You can’t remember much, it seems. You scroll through your feed for a while and squint at the blurry splotches of color, trying to recall if you were good enough friends with the girl from software systems to leave a comment on her post about how hot she looks in red. Your fingers drift, swiping away from Instagram to the only thing you remember. The thing you’ll always remember.

The phone rings exactly two times.

“Hi.” It’s the only thing you can think of besides, ‘I love you. I love you. I love you. Please make it stop.’

“Hey.” You listen to Stiles breathe on the other side of the line and snuggle further into your pillow. “You there?” 

His voice is soft in your ear, and your eyes go lidded, “Uh huh.”

He clears his throat, “What are you doing up this late?”

You twist around your sheets, and the tip of your tongue pokes out at your phone. Apparently, you’ve also forgotten that he can’t see you. “What are you doing up this late?”

“It’s uh,” Stiles pauses and there’s a rustling sound on his side of the line, “almost 8 here.”

You blink and frown at the time on your screen, “Nuh uh.” 

There’s a pause; you hate it. You want him to keep talking until you fall asleep. He finally sighs, “Are you drunk?”

Your tongue pokes out again, “I’m not the one who can’t tell time.”

“Baby,” your heart skips and your breath hitches, and he must be tired because he doesn’t seem to notice the slip, “we’re in different time zones.”

Your heart stumbles over the skip this time, and it feels a lot like flatlining. “You went back already?”

“I, uh,” he shifts, must be in his desk chair because you can hear something rolling, “my lease started. Figured if I’m paying to live in Philly, I should actually, y’know, live in Philly.” 

“Oh.” One little syllable, and it’s heavy with so many things you can’t bring yourself to dwell on it. 

“Yeah.” 

“So, uh,” you hear him scratch at something, most likely the back of his neck because he sounds anxious, “why’d you call?” He’s quick to correct himself, words overlapping like ripples in a creek, “Not that I’m not glad you called; I’m stoked you called—or maybe something a little less embarrassing—but I, uh,” there’s that scratching sound again and a quiet thudding of drumming fingers, “I really didn’t think you would.”

“Dunno,” there’s a smile in your voice, but you aren’t sure if he can hear it through the wobble, “just started dialin’, n’ I ended up here.”

He stands, and the phone shifts against his cheek as he starts to pace, “Where are you?” He sounds worried. You frown—you don’t want him to worry. You want him to hold you.

“Home,” you pause, nose wrinkling because that’s not quite right, and then add, “my house.”

“Did you drink anything?”

“Clearly.”

You can hear the eye roll from the other side of the country when he huffs into the phone, “I meant water. Did you drink any water?”

“Uh,” you nibble on your lip, “yes?”

He huffs again, but this time you can tell he’s smiling, “Get up and get some water—Advil too. Put it on top of whatever book you’re reading so it doesn’t get lost in your pile of shitty chapsticks and hair thingies.” 

Your eyes cross, affronted, “They are not shitty.”

“They’re an endless cycle of chapped hell.”

“But they taste good,” you grumble, cuddling your pillow to your chest.

He’s smirking; you know it. “Oh, I know.” 

You both just breathe through the line for a long moment, remembering the same slick slide of lips and tongues. 

“I miss you,” you whisper. 

Stiles inhales sharply, “I miss you too.”

“No,” you shake your head, smearing mascara on your pillowcase, “I miss you.” Your mouth is dry, and you can’t find the right words to explain it, how he’s apart from you even when he’s standing right there. There just aren’t enough words in the English language to explain the ache in the marrow of your ribs, how he still lingers inside your skin like some kind of fucked-up, agonizing osmosis, how you love him so tortuously, so effortlessly. Indefinitely. 

You can’t explain, but when he whispers, “Yeah, me too,” you know he knows. 

You sniffle and hiccup a few times, and a sigh crackles through your speaker. “Drink some water for me, okay?”

“Okay,” you whisper. You roll onto your stomach and sit up a little on your elbows, “Will you stay?”

“Yeah, baby,” his chair squeaks as he sits back down, “‘till you fall asleep.”

“Promise?” Your voice is thick, like you’ve been crying for hours, and Stiles’s voice is tight when he finally replies. 

“Promise.”

You wake up with dry eyes and a rank taste in your mouth. There’s a glass of water and a handful of Advil on your nightstand, and you just know. You’ve known for a while actually, maybe forever, but you can’t pretend you don’t anymore. 

Theo seems to know why you invited him over so early on a Sunday morning. He doesn’t even look sad when you officially end it, and you wonder if it’s because he knew it was over a long time ago. You wish, selfishly, that he would’ve let you in on the secret so that you could’ve avoided all this. You hug him before he leaves, and it’s stiff and awkward, and you feel a little shitty about the whole thing—but it doesn’t feel wrong. 

You feel like yourself for the first time in a long time, and that feels good.

Summer is almost over, and you don’t have the time to obsess over all your wanting. All the air leaves your body sometimes, no room for anything but honey, veins, and new stubble, but you have so much to do. There’s no time for drowning in it when you’ve only got a few weeks before the semester starts. 

You don’t even have the time to acknowledge the nerves wriggling up your esophagus until you’re standing in front of a black door. Your screen is lit with the address Scott texted you, along with roughly 100 exclamation points and a dozen or so brain explosion, party popper, and happy face emojis. They steady you as you knock on the splintering door. The unit is cute and quaint, and you distract yourself by getting a better look at the sage green columns. 

Stiles opens the door, looking disarmingly soft in his worn sweatpants and stretched-out t-shirt—like cuddling on the weekend, like playing video games until sunrise, like home. He blinks at you slowly, pretty pink mouth slightly ajar.

You shift on the soles of your sneakers, jamming your hands into your hoodie pockets. “Hey.”

He blinks some more and seems to be only capable of repeating what he hears, “Hey.”

“So,” you dig the toe of your shoe into the porch, staring at a warped patch, curved from seasons of melting snow, and shrug, “I was in the neighborhood. Thought I’d drop by.”

He recovers from his stupor and leans against the doorframe, hands tucked under his armpits. “You were in the neighborhood,” his head tilts with his arched brow, “in Philadelphia.”

“Well,” you try not not to smile, “it was on my way.”

Nodding, Stiles rubs his chin and purses his lips. You want to kiss the smirk off of his stupid face. “Right, the classic eastbound Stanford route.”

“Not quite.” You adjust the strap of your duffle bag on your shoulder, easing some of the ache pinching at the base of your skull, “New transfer orientation is on Monday. Turns out Princeton’s comp sci department is decent.”

His face becomes guarded, but there’s a little something like hope behind the uncertainty, “4th in the country.”

Something warm inside your stomach flutters. He knows. Of course, he knows. He probably researched it all the way back in high school. You brush your hair out of your eyes and hum, “Mhm.”

Stiles slides his socked foot back and forth, slipping on the polished floor of his cozy entryway. He barely catches himself on the doorknob. You laugh until he says, “Stanford’s 2nd.”

Your shoulder lifts, “That's correct.”

His chin dips as he searches your face for something. You smile at him, and he swallows; it looks painful. “You turned down MIT because it was too far from home.”

“That's also correct,” you say quietly with a jerky nod. 

His eyes go wide as he shakes his head, almost violently. He almost slips again with the dramatic effort, “MIT’s 1st in comp-sci.” 

You steady him with a palm against his chest, swiping your thumb over his ribs. His heart thrashes under your touch, and your face lifts with a timid, tender smile. “Sure, but Princeton’s ranked #1 nationally. Overall champs, baby. Suck it.”

Stiles finally smiles, but it’s hesitant. “You don’t say.”

You let a breathy exhale and drop your hands to your sides, curling and uncurling your fingers into tight fists. He’s still looking at you, a cute little wrinkle in-between his brows, waiting for something more. Fair enough. He kind of laid it all out on the line the last time you spoke in-person—he kind of deserves to stew a little after everything he put you through, but you’ve forgiven him, decided you want to be happy more than you want to punish him.

You roll your shoulders back and tilt your chin to meet his gaze. “I don’t believe in soulmates.”

Stiles’s face goes sour, and he crosses his arms firmly over his chest, mouth twitching between a pout and a frown. “You stopped in Philly just to tell me tha—”

You rock onto your tiptoes to press a finger to his lips, biting back a smile when they pucker like a fish, and say, “Will you kindly shut it for a minute? I need to get through this. I practiced a lot on the plane.” His eyes narrow, sullen and irritated, but he keeps his lips pressed together, waiting impatiently for you to finish.

You slip your finger from his mouth to cup his jaw, thumbing just below his cheekbone, and his body goes lax, irritation slowly seeping from his lanky limbs to the floor. Grinning, you poke the tip of your tongue at him, and he swallows hard as he tracks the movement.

“As I was saying,” you smile through the snark and slide your hands to his chest, resting against the vibration of his thudding heart, “I’ve been doing a lot of thinking lately, and I don’t think there’s just one person out there for everyone—but that’s a good thing, right? I mean, the entire concept of a soulmate is basically just a blackhole. You’re falling, and falling, and falling—and there’s no end; you’re just trapped. There's no choice. I don’t want to love like that—I don’t want to love you like that.” 

It’s cute, the way his face screws up around a theory. It’s a familiar expression, and you can’t help but melt at the knees while you watch his eyes flick back and forth, adding up all your expressions and trying to calculate the meaning. The corner of your mouth pulls into a slip of a smile, “If I turned around right now and never saw you again, I’d be okay. I mean, I wouldn’t drop dead or anything.” 

He sucks in sharply, head jerking back, “What the fu—”

“Hush, I’m almost done.” You keep going before he can interrupt you again, rushing through the rest of your speech, running out of air and restraint, “I think that I could get over you, eventually, years and years from now—but the point is—what I realized is: I don’t want to. I don’t want to get over you. I don’t want to find someone else. Stiles, I love you—I’m in love with you, and I really think tha—”

His lips are wet and warm against yours, and you whine softly into his mouth at the familiarity. He hooks his thumbs in the belt loops on your jeans and yanks you closer, until your chests are pressed together and you can feel him breathe. You were right—the beard burn is delectable.

The kiss slows into something less desperate, something more like forever, and Stiles brushes his lips over yours in a few chaste pecks. When your lashes finally flutter open, you see that he’s grinning at you. It’s so wide, so happy, and his eyes crinkle at the corners as he says, “Sorry, you just would not shut up, so I figured it was either kiss you or shove something in your big mouth—and I’m not super confident in my CPR skills. Scott and I really spent most of the time figuring out how many pencils we could fit into the dummy’s mouth.”

“I take it back.” You push his face away from you, but a laugh bubbles past your swollen lips when Stiles pinches your waist. “I hate you.”

“Nope. No refunds.” Stiles shakes his head solemnly and wraps his hand around your hip, squeezing possessively, “You kiss it, you buy it. That’s what Coach said about the dummy.” 

“Well,” your arms find their way around his neck, and your fingers wind into the soft hair curling behind his ears, “you are a dummy.”

“The dumbest,” he agrees. He’s smiling, but his eyes are sincere, cloudy with guilt. “Baby, I never should’ve—”

You take great satisfaction in your turn shutting him up with a kiss, tugging on his hair until you’re on your tiptoes and he’s groaning into your mouth. “I think we’ve been miserable for a long time,” you whisper, breath ghosting across his shiny lips. He shivers, and you press your temple against his forehead, “I think I’ve had enough of it. How ‘bout you?” 

Stiles nods quickly and dips in to kiss you again. “Can I say sorry one more time?” he mumbles, kissing the ridge of your ear.

“I suppose,” you sigh and fall back onto your heels. 

He takes your bag from your shoulder and guides you into his apartment, kicking the door shut so that he doesn’t have to let go of your hand. There’s a thud as he drops the duffle bag onto the floor, and you barely have the time to take-in the ratty little sofa and coffee table piled with empty pizza boxes before he’s on you again. “I’m,” he kisses the corner of your mouth, and it twitches with the contact, “so,” his lips trail to your cheek, “very,” he presses a kiss to your temple, “truly,” to your hairline, “forever-ly,” to the tip of your nose, “sorry,” to your mouth. 

You sigh as he settles in for a real kiss and fall back onto the couch with him on top of you, disrupting his rhythm with a breathy giggle. He braces his weight onto his arms, and you wriggle down until your face is directly below his. “Hi,” you trace his bottom lip with your finger, smiling when he purses his lips to kiss it. 

“Hey.” He looks drunk: cheeks flushed, eyes hazy with pleasure, body loose and free from critical thinking—and you think to yourself that you’d do just about anything to make sure he’s this happy for the rest of his life. 

Stiles rolls, bringing you into his side with an arm around your waist, and presses against your lower back until you're crushed against him. Still, you squirm closer. Neither of you say anything for a long time, content with the sound of each other’s breathing, and then Stiles hums in his throat a little and plays with the ends of your hair, “So. You’re gonna live in New Jersey.”

“Yup,” your mouth pops with the ‘p.’

He grins, “Wow. You must, like, really love me or something.”

“Or something,” you tease, and he bites your shoulder in retaliation. 

“Jersey isn’t so bad,” his voice is muffled against his teeth, still embedded in your sweatshirt. Well, his technically.

You laugh, “It’s not?”

“Nah,” Stiles pulls back to look at you and scratches at the back of his neck, lifting a shoulder, “wouldn’t mind living there for the…beaches.”

“The Shore, you mean?” you grin, trying to imagine Stiles with a bad spray tan and slicked back hair. 

He grins right back and strokes your cheek, “Yeah, I’d move there for the Shore. I’ve actually been searching for just the right opportunity to show off my scrawny arms and pasty complexion. It’s like, what, a 40 minute drive from there to Penn?”

“Trenton would be around that, but I was thinking Pennypack would only be 30 from Princeton.” Stiles looks at you through lidded eyes, suspicious. You grin, “For the cheesesteaks, obviously.”

“Obviously,” he quips, but you can tell his heart isn’t in it. His face turns serious as he whispers, “You don’t have to do this,” into the quiet air humming between you. “I would’ve transferred to a school in California if I knew you still wanted me.” A flash of something ignites behind his eyes, warming the amber to whiskey, and he sits up a little, reaching over your head for his phone, “I’ll do it right now.”

You clutch his wrist and shake your head, pulling on his arm until he’s close enough to feel your lashes brush against his skin, “That’s why I didn’t ask. You’ve been dreaming about this program your entire life.”

Stiles is unusually still as he stares you down. His incisor digs into his bottom lip with a cruel bite, “What about your dreams?”

You huff, “What part of #1 don’t you get? I literally just told you to suck it. In case you forgot, I cordially invite you to suck it again, #6.” He smiles, but his eyes remain unconvinced. Your face softens, all the muscles and cartilage going gooey with affection, “It was never about Stanford, Stiles. It was about home. Guess it took you going away to figure out home sucks without you. S'not really home at all, actually.”

His lashes flutter slowly as he blinks, shaking his head, tongue running over his teeth as he struggles for air and words in equal measure. You kiss him until he finds them. “I know you don’t believe in it,” Stiles breathes out, “but I don’t think I could survive you being gone. Not again.”

You stroke over the planes of his face and hum thoughtfully, “I believe you wouldn’t want to.” Your shoulder twitches with a quick shrug as you add, “I know I don’t.”

His mouth chases your fingertips, pressing kisses to them every so often, and he closes his eyes heavily—like he hasn’t slept in months, maybe since the night he broke up with you. “These last few months have been just the fuckin’ worst,” he finally manages a smirk after you kiss his nose in agreement, “like a fuckzillion times worse than the summer I broke my leg, and you and Scott signed up for rec soccer without me.”

“You’ve got to let that go,” your voice is high and whiny, and Stiles’s smirk widens, “we didn’t even win any games.” You tickle him, heart leaping into your throat when he laughs and squirms away from your relentless fingers, “Didn’t have our good luck charm with us, obviously.”

“Obviously,” his grin is smug with satisfaction. Stiles tangles your legs together, legs clunking clumsily but that’s just part of the delicious charm, and hooks his chin over your shoulder, “So, Pennypack, huh.”

You nod, “I really don’t want to live in Jersey.”

You can’t see him, but Stiles peers at you, a little dubious, a lot fond. “And it’s not just for me?”

You grin, caught, and shake your head firmly, “Absolutely not.”

“It’s for the cheesesteaks,” his brow arches, and he seems to finally understand when the room becomes a swathe your smile, of your bubbling laughter: He makes you as happy as you make him. 

“Obviously.” You mean, I love you, I love you, I love you, and I never ever want to stop.  Stiles hears it, of course he does, and he says it back, sealing it with a kiss, “Obviously.”

[mal3vol3nt]

Hi. You’re probably tired of seeing me dump stuff like this. (I’ll try to make this the last time). But I have to vent to someone. Because I see this one guy, claim to not hate Aang, only to villainize him to a ridiculous extent, acting like he’s unempathetic, forcing Katara to tend to his emotional needs and this user completely downplays Aang’s genocidal trauma. Not to be rude, but how much of a heartless prick do you have to be to invalidate genocide and the trauma it can cause. These fake fans should honestly keep their mouths shut about this show, they clearly don’t understand it.

the southern raiders episode needs to be freed from the zutara fandom i swear. i’m fully convinced they never actually watched that episode cause it literally ends with katara saying she still didn’t forgive yon rha and aang accepting that. he literally says “im proud of you”. it was never her anger at the man that aang disagreed with, it was the action she planned on doing—murder—that he wanted to talk her down from. not for yon rha’s sake, but for her’s. so even though she didn’t forgive him, aang respected that and was able to recognize the strength and validity in her decision. i’m so tired of repeating this rebuttal to this stupid as fuck argument

aang doesn’t force her to do anything in the entire series. katara has her own agency and free will to do as she pleases and not a single character has ever taken that away from her, and the one time where her freedom was threatened (by pakku), she fought for it and ensured she got her way. when yall say aang takes her agency away from her, you’re also ignoring the core traits of katara: her fierceness, her determination, her ability to recognize what’s right for herself, and her sense of justice

she never blindly follows or takes direction from anyone. when aang tried telling her and sokka to stay put while he made the trip to see roku in the fire nation, katara (and sokka) put her foot down and refused to listen. she demanded that they go with him, and he accepted them making that choice for themselves. when sokka tried convincing her to leave after she met up with haru and they had the chance to escape from the fire nation ship, she refused and said she wasn’t abandoning the rest of the earthbenders. her decision was respected by both aang and sokka. in fact, there are so many instances of her making her own decisions regardless of what anyone else says that it would be impossible for me to list them all. she never succumbs to what aang or anyone else wants, and she always makes her genuine thoughts on an important decision known. katara does not need anyone to tell her what to do nor does she allow anyone to tell her what to do. this is the same girl who single handedly changed the “no girls allowed” rule in the northern water tribe after having been told “you can’t do that”. yall think she would let aang walk all over her??? please put some respect on her name

now this may be a controversial take but i don’t care it’s the truth: comparing sokka and katara losing their mom to aang losing his entire culture and people is actually insane and insensitive but not for the reason zutaras think. its because absolutely nothing any other character went through can compare to what aang did, and to diminish his tragedy by saying katara’s trauma surrounding her mom’s death is somehow worse is actual insanity and i need yall to go to prison LMAO

katara did not witness her mom get murdered. that only happened in natla and i refuse to acknowledge that. she ran out of the tent to go tell her dad that a fire nation soldier was with their mom and when she came back, the man was gone and kya was dead. still insanely traumatic, but she was not literally standing there watching as kya burned to death

that’s literally what happened with aang. from his perspective, he had just seen gyatso only a few hours ago. gyatso was alive literally moments ago in his mind and then he was greeted with his decayed skeleton among the bodies of unwelcome fire nation soldiers. just like katara experienced insane whiplash from that heartbreaking change, to see someone alive only to come back to them gone, aang went through roughly the same thing

the only difference is aang didn’t just lose gyatso, he lost all his friends and mentors as well. and he didn’t just lose all his friends and mentors, he lost every single person who looked like him. and he didn’t just lose every single person who looked like him, he lost everyone he had grown close to and seen from the other nations. and he didn’t just lose everyone he had grown close to and seen from the other nations, he lost the animals native to the airbending temples. and he didn’t just lose the animals native to the airbending temples, he lost the native plants as well. and he didn’t just lose the native plants, he lost the structural beauty and integrity of the air temples. and he didn’t just lose the structural beauty and integrity of the air temples, he lost the ability to practice his cultural customs with others. and he didn’t just lose the ability to practice his cultural customs with others, he lost the ability to bend his native element with others. and he didn’t just lose the ability to bend his native element with others, he lost the time to mourn for all that he lost

i’m sorry to those of you who wanna believe your favs have suffered more than anyone else in the series, but none of their tragedies compare to aang’s. and i don’t believe in downplaying what the others went through to support a fandom narrative, but this is literally just me acknowledging the severity of aang’s story. to suggest any one else has gone through more is to be ignorant and nothing anyone can say will ever convince me otherwise

only reason yall think zuko or katara or sokka or toph or azula or whoever the fuck else is more tragic than aang is because all of their traumas are more relatable to the everyday person whereas aang’s is something that most people can’t even comprehend

[salty-croissants]

if your still taking requests, can you do a Bullfrog and Rayman/ramon of their S/O is Pregnant? if you can't that's okay

Thank you for the request !

I apologize for taking longer than usual , I found myself in need of a break since I was feeling a bit too uninspired to write :,T

Anyway I’ve never really written anything for a pregnant reader before , so this was a pretty fun challenge :,) 

Hope it turned out okay ! 

Details : use of female reader ( thought I’d go for that given the prompt , hopefully that’s alright ! ) ;

established relationships ; 

no warnings needed 

Bullfrog 💚

Deep down , Bullfrog still can’t believe he is actually going to become a dad …

While he is definitely worried about how he is going to keep you and your future child ( or children :> ) safe , this frog is still really looking forward to start a family with you , and he will remind you of this a lot .

< y/n , my dear , I’m just so grateful to have you by my side , you know ?

I’m so happy about our child , je ne peux pas attendre … >

He is the absolute best at taking care of you , using all the spare time he gets when he isn’t out for missions to be there anytime you need something , no matter how small .

< I’m back mon amour ! 

Here , I brought you some more food in case you get hungry , and I also made some tea while I was at it . > 

< Thank you honey ! This is exactly what I needed , you’re amazing ~ > 

When you’re feeling a bit fatigued , Bullfrog loves to just rest by your side , with the two of you often falling asleep into each other’s arms .

And if you ever try to stay up anyway , well … your partner is very good at persuading you to do otherwise .

< Hmm … I’m not that tired , sweetie … we can still … talk , or maybe do … something else … > 

< Non y/n , you need to get some sleep … you had a long day today , and I don’t want you to stress yourself too much . 

I’m going to be right here with you mon cher , so don’t worry , alright ? > 

< Heh , alright , thanks Bullfrog … 

Oof , give me a second , the little one is starting to feel heavy … > 

Your beloved assassin adores those simple moments of intimate bliss he gets with you , and whenever he occasionally opens his eyes to check on you he can’t help but feel an overwhelming happiness , knowing that you’re the person that he’s going to share a family with …

Despite the uncertainty of your futures , Bullfrog knows that as long as you’re with him , there will always be hope for him somehow .

Rayman 🧡

Oh boy is he excited ! 

Rayman loves children , so the mere thought that he’s going to have a kid with you fills him with joy …

He never thought that he’d be able to have something like this in his life , given the way people see him despite his popularity , so you better believe that he will be showering you with affection … even more than usual . 

< Oh y/n , sometimes I still can’t believe this is happening , y’know ?

I just … god , I love you so much ~ > 

Unfortunately , I honestly doubt the Directors would show much care about the fact that their star’s partner is going through a pregnancy …

They need Rayman to be on the show , that’s what matters most to them , so as much as he hates the idea of leaving you alone he doesn’t have much of a choice …

< Damn it …

I’m so sorry … if I could stay with you I would , but the Directors … > 

< Hey it’s alright hun , I’m just gonna lay here and rest until you come back , I should be just fine . > 

< Mm … well , maybe I can convince them to let me go home earlier than usual : I don’t want anything to happen to you because I couldn’t be here , y/n … I … I would never forgive myself … > 

< Ray , love … you worry too much . 

Now come here , I didn’t forget about your goodbye kiss ~ > 

< Heh , thank you y/n … mm … ~ 

I’ll be here as soon as I can , I promise . > 

During the immensely frustrating hours where he can’t be with you , Rayman is still going to remain in contact with you by calling you and sending you texts … a lot .

“Hey sweetie ! 

This should be the last interview for today , I can’t wait to see you ! ❤️

How do you feel ? I remember yesterday night you couldn’t sleep much , did you manage to get some rest ? Oh , you should also remember to drink some water if you haven’t already , it really is important , especially now !”

“Hi Ray ! ❤️

I’m okay , don’t worry , I got some sleep and that really helped a lot !

I think our child is happy you’re coming home … I can feel it kicking since I begun writing you this message ! 

We’ll both be waiting for you ❤️❤️”

After Rayman gets home , I hope you’re prepared to be showered with love and affection for the rest of the day :

he just can’t express how much he missed you , from your voice to your beautiful face … you just make him so happy , and knowing that you’re about to start a family together is just everything he could possibly need .

Ramon 🖤

1 Now that he doesn’t have to care about his job or the orders of the Directors , you better believe that Ramon is never , ever going to leave your side , especially now that you’re pregnant .

He is terrified at the idea of losing his one chance of finding happiness in his otherwise bleak existence … he won’t allow that to happen .

< y/n , where are you going ? > 

< Ah , I’ll be right back Ram , I just wanted to go for a quick walk just outside , my legs are a bit sore and - > 

< I’m coming with you . > 

< You don’t have to do that , love … I know the wounds you got yesterday while fighting those Eden guys still hurt , you should rest . > 

< I don’t … care about that . I need to be there for you . I need to keep you and our child safe .

Please y/n … you’re all I have . > 

< Okay , okay … we’ll go together , hun . I won’t leave you . > 

< Thank you … > 

He finds it especially comforting to gently rest his head on your stomach , listening to the baby’s occasional small movements beneath … 

It’s in little tender moments like these that Ramon can finally put his mind at ease , momentarily forgetting about Eden and the mess you’re in .

< Does this hurt , darling ? > 

< Hmm ? 

Oh no , it doesn’t ! Don’t worry about it …

It actually feels very nice ~ 

Ramon’s mind often gets crowded with unwelcome thoughts about what kind of life will he be able to provide to your kid , given the critical situation you’re currently both in , and as much as he tries to keep those feelings to himself you’re able to understand what’s on his mind . 

< I know you’re worried about our future , I am too … but I just know things will be alright for all three of us . > 

< How do you know that … ? > 

< Oh , that’s easy Ram : 

I have you here with me , and that’s all I need to keep on going !

It’s not going to be easy , but I know we can face what comes next if we stick together , and we’ll be able to make our child grow happily in a good place . > 

< Heh … you always know how to make me feel better , y/n .

I love you so much , you know that … ? > 

< I love you too Ramon … trust me , we are going to be okay . > 

[waterdeep-weavemoss]

Endure

This is just deeply self indulgent, inspired by @mumms-the-word's fic featuring chronically ill Tav (forgive me please; I want to read it but I have to be mentally strong to do so I think.) So this is just... a little bit of truth from my own life. The diseases are from the setting, but that's it. So this is a little bit of me, fictionalised. Be kind, please.

'I must become a lionhearted girl, ready for a fight.' - Rabbit Heart, Florence & the Machine

Taglist:

@boufsy @owlseeyoulaterpal @lanafofana

@auroraesmeraldarose @aryancunin @miradelletarot @marlowethebard @silent-words

@netherese0rb @sorceresssundries

Tav stared into the campfire, walking cane across her lap. I’ll be alright, she thought. A tadpole is nothing compared to what I’ve been through. I’ve got this. Still, she felt the familiar sneak of anxiety in her gut. Now they were in the shadow cursed lands, and death loomed over their shoulders. Astarion was pretending to read a book, but she could feel his feline gaze on the back of her head. Gale was really reading, but she noticed he would glance up at her every few pages, as though checking she was alright.  Shadowheart was eavesdropping on Wyll and Karlach’s conversation, Lae’zel apparently uninterested in socialising, engrossed as she was in a githyanki slate. So Tav sat alone, thinking.

Why did you bring me back? She closed her eyes, furrowing her brow. I never asked for any of this. I’ve been so strong for you my entire life and you let this happen to me. Why? Without warning, tears slid silently down her cheeks. She heard the soft thud of books closing and felt Gale and Astarion settle on either side of her. Astarion’s cool fingers stroked her back soothingly as Gale reached for her hand and ran his thumb over her knuckles, both of them comforting in the ways they could. ‘I’m fine,’ she said, not even opening her eyes to look at them.

‘Pish posh,’ said Gale softly, nudging her shoulder. ‘You don’t need to lie.’

‘Just having a crisis of faith, I suppose,’ she said, sniffing and opening her eyes. She wiped fiercely at them with her free hand. ‘Hating my lot in life a little bit tonight.’ She sighed, deep and tired. ‘I thought you could choose your deity. Not me. I was plucked from the brink of death, and I’ve been fucked ever since.’

‘The gods are bastards and wretches,’ said Astarion bitterly.

Tav shrugged. ‘Without him I’d be dead. Still, it’s not like he’s offered me a bounty of beauty or particular skill or-’ she gestured vaguely, ‘-magic. It’s just been a litany of hurts. I’m tired.’

‘I never asked,’ said Gale. ‘About…’ He gestured to the cane.

‘Don’t you dare pity me,’ she said through her teeth. ‘I hate it.’

‘I wasn’t. I just want to know what you’ve been through. And not from some kind of morbid curiosity either. You’ll forgive my bleeding heart if I hate seeing my friends in pain.’

‘It’s not good form to ask these things,’ said Astarion tersely. ‘But then you always were incredibly intelligent and breathtakingly stupid, Gale.’

Tav almost laughed, a single huff of air from her mouth. ‘Sure, I’ll tell you. But remember you asked.’ Dimly aware the camp had quieted, and her audience was beyond the wizard and the elf, she spoke to the flames. ‘I was born too early for anyone to expect me to survive. My lungs didn’t function, there was a stutter in my heartbeat, internal bleeding on the brain, all that. I had some necrosis and blacklung and even spotted plague, all at once could you believe it? I should’ve been dead five times over. I was put through my paces. I don’t know how or why I made it and sometimes I wish I hadn’t. But I did. And I got to grow up.’ A bitter edge crept into her voice. ‘And then something happened to me later, some people happened to me, and now I’m in pain all the time. It never goes away. I can manage it, on a good day, with rest and the odd spell. Potions don't work for me at all. I can’t do too much though, you see.’ Her face hardened. ‘Because the god who refused to let me die was Ilmater. My suffering is divine. I can’t even walk away because I owe him my very existence. How does a baby bargain with a god like that? So I push on. I endure, because I must.’

‘I’m sorry,’ said Gale. ‘I empathise, believe me.’

‘Right,’ Tav said, voice softening a little bit. ‘The orb.’

He nodded. ‘Still. Self inflicted. It’s different.’

‘Yeah.’

‘If I’d known…’ he continued.

‘You wouldn’t be able to do a damn thing about it and you can’t now,’ she snapped. ‘I appreciate it Gale, I really do, but this is just my life. And now we have these things.’ Jabbing her finger at her forehead she set her jaw in determination. ‘I’ve been through worse. Doubtless we all have. We’re going to win this fight. We don’t have a choice.’

‘Hear hear,’ said Karlach softly.

‘You deserve more credit,’ said Astarion. ‘You’re strong.’

‘Yes,’ she agreed. ‘I don’t want to be though. I want to be soft. I want to rest.’

‘You don’t have to do this alone,’ said Wyll, sitting across the fire from her. ‘You have us now.’ His smile was so gentle it broke her heart.

‘Your endurance is admirable,’ said Lae’zel, sitting on Astarion’s other side.

‘For once I agree with you, Lae’zel.’ Shadowheart stayed back from the fire until Karlach grabbed her wrist and plonked her down next to her.

‘Any spells or potions you need, I’ve got you,’ said Gale. ‘It’s the least I can do given you helped me with my condition.’

‘Sweet as that is Gale, perhaps you could start with dinner? Karlach’s stomach is snarling like an angry bugbear,’ said Astarion lightly.

‘I saw that archdruid whittling in the grove earlier,’ said Shadowheart. ‘Maybe he could make you a new cane.’

Tav looked down at the cane in her lap. It was crudely hewn and splintered; she’d done it herself. ‘Yeah,’ she said. ‘Yeah, maybe I should ask him.’

[chaotic-mystery]

cant stop thinking about jealous!joel miller and the way he’d react to seeing others flirt with you. just a little after your arrival to jackson, the three of you tired and just starting to socialize. you get talking with a friend of maria’s who introduced you. and joel is there watching, pretending to be interested in whatever the bored housewife hanging off his arm was even talking to him about. he burns with jealousy he doesn’t know what to do with and ends up crossing the bar to get to you. where he makes some kind of show of getting his hands on you and subtly proving his protectiveness and jealousy over other men talking to you. give it some real angst for me, please?

A/N: Bestie, I tried so hard for this and it's a little long, I hope I did it some justice!

“You’re what?” He shot up from the chair at the table and followed you down the hallway. “I’m going to the bar to go and be social, Joel. I’m fucking tired of being alone, I need more interaction. Besides, how would that look on us if we just stayed cooped up in the house instead of getting to know the people who were so kind to let us into their town?” you waited for a response, but it never came. You exited the bedroom and started for the door.  “So are Ellie and I not enough for you anymore?” he shouted at you as you were about to swing the front door wide open. Stopping dead in your tracks, doorknob in hand, you spun around quickly. “Excuse me? No, you don’t get to throw that at me, asshole. I love you both dearly, but god damn...I can only take so many of her jokes, and I can only deal with you being so cold towards me for so long. I’m sorry if I want to go somewhere I actually feel wanted. So if you want to, you can tag along or you can stay here with Ellie and watch a movie.” You didn’t mean for the words to sound so harsh, but maybe you were glad they hurt him a little. He cleared his throat and rubbed the back of his neck. A scoff left your lips and out the door you went not wanting him to see the tears trying to escape your eyes. The walk to the bar was quiet, neither one wanted to speak.

Once you got inside and ordered a drink, he grabbed your arm and pulled you close to him. "For the record, I do want you, baby” Looking into those beautiful deep brown eyes was the biggest mistake you could’ve made. They always made you forgive him and you hated that. “Then act like it maybe” you snapped at him and gave his bottle a sarcastic clink with yours, making your way to Maria. Your hand brushed against her arm as you greeted one another and she told you she had some friends she wanted to introduce you to. Glancing behind you, your eyes found the woman next to Joel and he wasn’t entertained at all by her standing too close for his comfort, rambling on about god knows what. Maria introduced you to almost everyone there when you finally got to the last group of people. A pair of brothers and their friend were sitting at a table alone with beer bottles scattered across in front of them when you approached and Maria gave a quick introduction between everyone. She left to go find Tommy and you sat at the table with the men, asking where they were originally from and how everyone made it to Jackson. 

Joel was eventually out of eyesight as everyone shuffled around the floor, but you knew he was still with the same woman only because her laugh echoed from the same spot behind the sea of people in front of your table. You couldn’t shake the feeling of wanting to see Joel. A point had to be made though and he’s been distant towards you ever since you almost got killed when the patrolling people of Jackson didn’t know why you were there or that Joel was Tommy’s brother. So many apologies were said, but he didn’t want to hear it. Ever since then he hasn’t said much of anything, so it was a slap in the face to you when he asked if Ellie and him weren’t enough. 

As the night went on, less and less people shielded you at the table. Joel's eyes landed on where you were, currently playing cards with the men you were actually enjoying talking to. His body was on fire with jealousy, because you couldn't see what he was seeing. They didn’t want to just chat and be friendly and play cards, they wanted more from you. The guy sitting next to you started inching closer, his arm finding its way around your shoulders. You kept knocking it down off of you as you just wanted to win this hand of cards and go home. “Stop, sweetheart. I’m just trying to make you feel comfortable.” the table erupted in laughs and you caught on to what was going on. “Well can we just finish this hand? I’m kinda tired, I need to get back to my boyfriend anyway.” That’s never scared off anyone before and you didn’t know what made you think that would work now. Looking beyond the ones sitting in front of you, you found Joel who had his chair planted just right so you were in his eyesight the entire time. The woman was leaning over him, hand on his thigh as she asked if she should get more beers for the two of them. “No, I think you should go home darlin. I’m sure you don’t want your husband to come lookin for you and find you draped all over me because you’re bored with him, and he’d try to kick my ass like it’s my fault, and the next thing you know you’re not bored because you’ll be taking care of him and his bloody nose.” She hopped down off the stool and gave Joel the middle finger as she walked by him, and a smirk grew on your lips. He couldn’t help but chuckle and look away from you. 

“Boyfriend? Baby you’ve been here with us the past almost two hours, if you had a boyfriend, why would he let a pretty girl like you be here alone?” Your sight locked on the man laughing across the short table across from you, and you held your cards against your chest “I can take care of myself, that's why” and with that, you placed them down to show them you won the game. An arm made its way around you, only this time it was your waist as he pulled you close to congratulate you. You tried wiggling away, but his grip got tighter. Joel could see you struggling and that was all he needed to get up and make his way to your table. His hand landed firmly on the guy's shoulder that was around you and he gave it a good grip. “Do you wanna have a broken arm?  If not I suggest you get the fuck off my girl because I will not hesitate and she won’t hesitate to take out your buddies.” You looked at Joel and restrained a grin as he yanked the guy's arm off you and held out his hand to help you up. He pulled you against his chest, his arm wrapped around you tightly like you’d disappear if he didn’t hold on, and gave you a deep kiss with his other hand cupping your cheek. The kiss said it all, the topic didn’t need to be rehashed. Needless to say, the next day you and Joel had to take the bed frame to the shop and put it back together and reinforce it better.

[hawnkoii]

(TW: Mentions of d€@**th + r@**p€ threats, incest, NSFW)

@cherrysuzaku / @serenesaku the things you have lied about on my name.

I have heard and read everything and I have never heard bigger lies in my life. I have been informed of what you told people behind my back, telling them i know things that I genuinely was not aware of just so you can paint me as a bad person. If you’re going to lie about something, at least try to make it sound believable. I should be showing all of our discord messages, showing everyone how you made weird fetishized cuck headcanons of my oc watching your oc, Hanako, and Urogi have sex. I should show them the oc you drew and attempted to ship him with Sumine. I should show everyone how you kept bugging me to draw you something, and if the commission came out bad, you wouldn’t pay me for it. I will show a glimpse of our messages below 👇 because there will be some to accuse me of aimlessly talking out of my ass with no proof. (Warning: NSFW)

I did not say anything at the time since I felt like I was overthinking, and others didn’t complain about you. I did not say anything as I did not speak to many people in the community at the time, and I wanted to keep and make mutuals. I did get petty, as shown in the screenshot, because i was tired of your constant weird headcanons. Should I have said flat out I didn’t like it? Yes, I should have, but I didn’t want to come off as a prude. I felt bad cause i felt like I just scolded you, so i followed up by saying “it’s not a big deal”. I tried to leave subtle hints that I didn’t like it, not that I want to gatekeep the character, but I hated how you put my oc down like that. Your attempt to pull my oc away, make my oc look bad, make ME look bad, and literally bother me to make an oc x oc ship with you after I said NO a billion times is disgusting. I always wondered why no one ever complained about you, which is why I stayed silent and tried to get along with you. I’m tired of it. Thursday was my birthday and I tried to be positive but I couldn’t because of how you literally lied to people about me, leading to de**th threats, r**pe threats, and rude messages due to people thinking i was the troll, and then you have the audacity to ask me if i had a good birthday. Hell no i did not.

If there is one thing I genuinely regret now, is how I was so blind to your behavior. I don’t believe it, and I can’t believe I stayed up late a few months ago to draw you something for your birthday because I really cared for you. Have you ever cared for me in the same way I used to care about you? What were you going to do for my birthday other than be a manipulative liar that purposely left out information to me so I, and others, could sympathize with you. I wish I knew the full story so I didn’t just blindly side with you and think others were bad. You realize I saw terrible (now confirmed fake) screenshots of someone potentially being racist and straight up rude, so obviously I made insults the same way you were insulting others (they will not be name dropped). You took advantage of my vulnerability with you, victimized yourself, and I’ll never forgive you for that. You are not a victim Serene, but maybe a victim of your own delusions and ego. I am an adult as well, but remember our difference in maturity. The mental gap between an 18 yr old (I am now 19) and a 24 yr old. Your frontal lobe is more developed than mine, and pretty close to being fully developed and making better conscious decisions.

Because of your lies and how you led people on, I can’t stop getting d€@*th and r**pe threats. Am I saying that you are at fault for other’s behavior? No, i am not. But you have repeated this process so many times with others and you just don’t seem to learn. At some point your victim complex is going to lead to others getting hurt. Telling me to block and not talk to certain people, yet you go behind my back and talk to those very people yourself to incriminate me. Why did you do that? So I don’t talk and share my side of the story and you can keep me in the dark and have someone to blame? It seems like this is the reason because once I got in touch with these said people you told me not to communicate with, we realized we shared similar issues we had with you. I was relieved to hear I wasn’t the only one that was treated this way by you, and I stayed silent initially because I just didn’t want to be that guy, and because you seemed to be on good terms with a lot of people in the community. I have noticed a good chunk of the people in your server have either blocked or unfollowed me. Have you told them whole truth, Serene? Or have you just told them enough so they sympathize with you. People that have similar experiences with you can be silent about you, as it is their own story to tell when they feel comfortable, but I will not be silent about you anymore @cherrysuzaku

I would speak to you in private about this, but you have proved to me that you are not a trustable or reliable person, and I know that you will just respond with “I’m sorry” or by freaking out. You are not listening to me.

“I’m sorry” “I’m sorry” “I’m sorry” “I’m sorry” “I’m sorry” and then you never fix your behavior. If you are going to be on hiatus, LEARN something before you come back and don’t just feel sorry for yourself.

Now you are going after my friends and repeating this chain of behavior with them, leaching onto them for what I can assume is free art, which I see you have gotten unfortunately. I see you asking them weird questions and trying to form an oc x oc ship with them as well. I have seen you create an oc to ship with their oc that is already taken. God knows who else you are acting this way to. I am not stupid, Serene. The second you were pushed away by one trio that felt uncomfortable with your behavior, you try to nudge your way into mine. Don’t think I didn’t notice how less you spoke to me during that time you were all ‘buddy-buddy’ with the first trio you tried to be with. I am not one to gatekeep people, but as soon as my friends told me what you were saying to them in private, I had an internal panic. I knew exactly what you were doing the second you tried to butter up my friend with some fanart. And ofc when i recently blocked you, you go to others to complain, as I have seen, looking for someone to feel pity for you. I have tried to let the weekend pass while i deleted my Tumblr app, i have reported messages, but the threats of people saying they want to “destroy every hole in my body” and that my mother “should have ab0rted me” is too much. And that’s not even the worst message. These threats have spread to my instagram DMs. Again, i am not 100% blaming you for this Serene, but what you have said has led to this, even if you didn’t want it to go this far. It’s a permanent scar on my emotional state and my reputation, so why should I let you go?

I will also mention your neediness. When I made some fanart for my friends, this is how you reacted (first image):

(Sorry for the constant pfp change from me)

Instead of supporting my art, you made me feel terrible. I felt so bad here, but I didn’t know what else you wanted me to do. I just wanted to have fun in the community and make people I feel comfortable with feel happy as well. And if my memory serves me correctly, this is not your first time freaking out to me when I make art for friends, and it just comes off as jealousy, honestly. (2nd screenshot) Shamelessly during messages you would just randomly ask for free art and guilt trip me. Like, come on, you should just know not to do that, even if you were trying to joke. In the 3rd screenshot shown, you wanted to ship my Urogi fankid with your Urogi fankid. Why would you even suggest incest or bring it up? Not to mention you blatantly stealing character designs from me and my friends, and stealing my oc’s name shamelessly. I would think it was an accident, but as I have heard from others, you have done this before. You have stolen character concepts from others. Not to mention you even admit to knowing/feeling like you’re stealing. If you know, then stop. I shouldn’t have to tell a grown woman how to act.

Reasonable crashout from me. I will not be a pushover this time and allow myself to be threatened and slandered. I have allowed this behavior for too long. Gmfu if you think i’m letting anyone talk down on me online. I do not wish to be silent anymore, so I did not consult anyone before speaking on this. I am writing this so that people would not harass Serene back, but just be wary. I have heard her do so much worse to others, but for now it is not my right to say it since it is not my story or experience. You are not a good person Serene, and never a good 'friend' to me. If you had my best interest in mind, you wouldn’t have done the things you did, and try to accuse me of being the troll. You have genuine problem, Serene. I’m saying this in the nicest way possible, please get therapy if you have not already gotten it. And if you have, I hope you feel better soon.

[ksnfangz]

COOL WITH YOU ★ SIDE A !

★ ₊˚ paring: Cupid!Ni-ki x Human!Reader

★ ₊˚ Genre: Fluff , angst(?) , unrequited love

★ ₊˚ Warnings : None?

★ ₊˚ word count: 1.2k

★ ₊˚ A/n : my brain turned off for like a month but i randomly decided to write this! hope it isn’t to shitty lol. Enjoy <3 ( yes there will be a part two aka side B !! sorry for any spelling / grammar errors.

Couples. Ni-ki hates couples, which is pretty ironic since he’s the reason half of them currently exist. Thought it was not like he had a choice seeing as he was born as an angel a cupid at that.

At first, it was fun being able to make two people fall in love and watch how some relationships blossomed while others fell apart, but over time it grew repetitive The constant matchmaking and shadowing had taken a toll on the boy.

When he first told his mother how he felt she just brushed it off as the boy not liking the idea of love… which wasn’t surprisingly not that rare writhing cupids but what she got wrong was that Ni-ki does want love.

He’s just tired of helping everyone else with their love lives when he can’t even help himself. As he continued to trail behind his new match he couldn’t help but wonder when would cupid shoot him with an arrow if that were even possible.

“ Don’t you ever get bored?” Ni-ki questions looking away from the couple-filled streets “What do you mean?.” Jungwon asks looking over at the boy.

“ Of watching people fall in love, of being invisible, stuck in the shadows.” the younger explains, jungwon simply shakes his head.

“ Not I think it’s quite amazing actually…” Jungwon replies smiling as a couple walks past holding hands. Ni-ki scoffs. “You don’t get it.”

“ It’s okay to not like your job Ni-ki Lots of cupids hate their job.” Jungwon says

“But this is a job that I can’t quit I’m stuck doing this until… I don’t even know when.” Ni-ki whines slamming his head down onto the table. Jungwon softly patted the boy's head.

“ I mean you can quit…” a new voice spoke causing Ni-ki to sit back up. It was Jay another angel.

“But there’s consequences, have you heard about Heeseung?” Jay asks, Ni-ki shaking his head.

“Who is that?”

“ he was my friend, and once a cupid like us… a few years ago he gave up his wings to become human, all for some mortal he’d fallen in love with.”

“But isn’t falling in love with a mortal forbidden?” Jungwon says confusedly. There were a lot of things angels couldn’t do.

“Yes, which is why he’s no longer here It’s been said that he is still human… but his lover was taken away,” Jay replies causing the younger's eyes to widen. “They killed the mortal?” Ni-ki asks loudly.

“No of course not they just wiped heeseung from their memory, I heard they ended up falling for someone else.” Jay states the two boys letting out sighs. “ Heesueng tried to come back and beg for forgiveness but a fallen angel never regrows their wings.”

“So what was the point in telling me all that?” Ni-ki questions. “To show its better to be an angel and live in the shadows than be a mortal and have everything about your life out in the open.”

“But what if I’m tired of the shadows?”

“That's on you Ni-ki, since only you can stop yourself from stepping into the light.”

Walking along the busy streets Ni-ki mindlessly trailed behind the latest couple, who were making their way to an art museum.

Normally when Ni-ki grew tired of one couple he’d leave and find a new one but despite his boredom, he knew these two were a good match and wanted to make sure they’d succeed.

Their names were Eunjin and Daesoo and they’d been friends for years now silently crushing on one another. Well, that was until Ni-ki stepped and in used his magical powers to get the two idiots to confess. Now his job was to protect their relationship until it was stable enough for them to handle on their own.

Upon entering the art museum Ni-ki watched as the couple showed their tickets and joined the crowd of people waiting for their tour guide.

The crowd seemed like your average group of people couples here and there, a few college students and critics. However, one person stood out quite a bit. Or at least in Niki’s eyes, though he couldn’t see his face the girl seemed much brighter than everything surrounding her.

While everyone else seemed to wear more Dark attire the girl wore a bright blue cardigan hanging loosely on her shoulders, paired with a white skirt matching the headband on her head.

Ni-ki watched as she stared up at the painting as if she were in a trance her curious eyes shining under the museum lights.

Neither of them realized that the crowd had now moved on to the next piece. Ni-ki also eventually found himself staring at a piece of art but it wasn’t the painting on the wall.

“ Y/n.” called out a voice pulling the girl— y/n out of her trance.

“Come on before you get left behind.”

“Okay coming! Heeseung.” she replied voice bright and cheerful as she skipped off toward her … friend?

wait Heeseung? Lee Heeseung, the fallen angel.

Watching as the two walked off and joined their group, Ni-ki averted his eyes from the painting that the girl had been captivated by moments ago.

He could see why she stared for so long. Psyche and Cupid.

But Psyche can’t see Cupid.

So what’s the point?

It was now a few days later and it was safe to say he still didn’t get the point, even after days of following the pretty human around, The boy could probably tell you every detail of her face from how long he’d stared hoping she’d eventually look back at him. Though it never happens he still hopes.

Sometimes he finds himself thinking of what Jay said. “Only you can stop yourself from stepping into the light.” he repeats to himself as he watches the girl read next to her window, The soft taps of rain hitting the glass echoed over the soft sniffles coming from the girl.

“ If I give up my wings will you finally see me?” Ni-ki asks and of course, receives no answer. He sighs having an internal battle with himself.

“ I don’t wanna give up my wings if it means I can't have you.”

He thinks back to Jay's story about Heeseung, how his lover was taken away from him when he left. Was Ni-ki willing to risk it? Was he ready to risk losing something he didn’t even get the chance to have?

As he watched the girl climb into her bed and fall into a peaceful slumber looking effortlessly beautiful despite the dried tears on her cheeks, he realized he’d do anything to make sure he’d be there to wipe away her tears. Whether she loved him or not.

“ Jay! You idiot I told you not to tell them the story about heeseung!” Jake shouts shoving Jay's chest. Jay stumbled back confusedly shocked by Jake's aggressiveness.

“ What are you talking about? What’s going on?” Jay asks. “ The story about turning human to peruse love” Jake reminds. “ You told Ni-ki and jungwon about it right?” Jay nods

“ Well Jungwon found a letter from Ni-ki this morning and it says that he’s going to give up his wings for some girl from a museum,” Jake explains, all the color drains from Jay's face.

“ As long as the higher power doesn’t know why Ni-ki is giving them up he should be fine.” Jay states.

“ Yeah but what if they find out?”

“ Another cupid will be sent down to make her fall for someone else.”

“ and what about Ni-ki?”

“ he stays human but will not be able to have a lover unless a cupid uses their powers to form a connection”

“ Shit…”

as always likes and reblogs are appreciated but not required thank you for reading ily <33

label tags 🏷️ : @k-films @k-labels

© IKEUIA. please do not plagiarise, repost, copy or translate any of my works!

[nebulablakemurphy]

Twenty Questions (Part 4)

Summary: For Y/N’s 20th birthday Haymitch gifts her 20 questions, that he has to answer honestly, no matter what. Mentions of sex/forced pregnancy. Moves & Countermoves companion piece.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

“How many…do you think?”

“Hmm?” Haymitch hums, eyeing his wife.

“Kids.” Y/N clears her throat, “how many kids do you think Snow will make us have?”

“I’d say one of each. A boy and a girl will keep the people entertained. If the next one is a boy, I think we’ll have to try again for a girl. Assuming we stay in his good graces, we’ll probably be done after that.” Haymitch shrugs a shoulder.

“I don’t know what else we can do.” Y/N rubs her hands together anxiously.

“There’s nothing else, Angel.” Haymitch sighs, “we just have to ride this out.”

Y/N nods, rubbing the swell of her belly. She’s five months along, over half way.

“Did you want,” Haymitch stumbles over the words. “How many do you want?”

Y/N lifts a shoulder. “I think being an only child might be lonely for him.” Him. Their baby. Because it isn’t about them anymore, it never will be again. “Two would be good.”

“Two would be good,” Haymitch agrees.

————————————————————————

Haymitch drinks more than he ever has.

Y/N’s belly grows. She’s tired all the time. She snaps at Haymitch and then chases after him with tears in her eyes, begging for forgiveness. “I’m sorry, I’m… I know I’m awful. I’m trying to do better.”

“You’re not awful,” Haymitch grumbles. “I’m trying too.”

“But you are! You are doing better and I’m…I feel like everyday I get worse. That’s the difference and I’m frustrated with myself. I’m frustrated at the situation and I don’t know what to do. You’re the only person here with me all the time, so you get the brunt of everything. And I know it’s not fair to you. I know you hate me for it.” How could you not?

“I need you to know that I do not hate you. I could never hate you. I see how hard this pregnancy and marriage has been for you. I’m sorry, from the bottom of my heart, if I could change it for you, I would. But I can’t.” Haymitch admits, “I can’t and it kills me.”

“It’s not hard being married to you,” she breaks off. “I’d never given a lot of thought to marriage. I didn’t necessarily want to be married. But doing it with you is easy, being with you is easy and I feel safe when I’m with you.”

“Tell me what’s wrong then, Angel. Tell me what I can do to help you. Anything you need. You just gotta give me some fucking direction here, because I am drowning in this.”

“I don’t know what I need. I feel restless all the time. I can’t sleep. I’m-”

“You’re afraid.” Haymitch gets it.

“Just…just tell me that everything’s gonna be ok.”

“It is gonna be ok. I promise.”

She closes the distance between them, relaxing into the feel of his arms around her. Holding her close, making everything ok.

————————————————————————

Things are better after that.

“Everything’s gonna be ok.”

He tells her every morning and again at night.

They decorate the nursery, they give him a name. Everest. Everest Abernathy.

By the time they mentor the games that year, Y/N is eight months along. They’ve agreed to stay in the Capitol, until the baby is born.

“You’ll have access to the best medicine known to man in our hospitals, Y/N. The same cannot be said for District Twelve.” President Snow makes her an offer that sounds more like a threat. In any event, she can’t refuse.

Their chances for a victor this year are slim to none. The female tribute is fifteen, but Y/N can spot every bone in her body. The boy isn’t much better, and only twelve.

Y/N weeps for them until she vomits. Only when she is alone, jotting notes in her tablet. She remains strong in their presence, focused. Knowing Haymitch won’t offer much help. He stopped trying and she doesn’t blame him.

She might give up too, if it didn’t mean leaving the poor tributes to fend for themselves.

It makes no difference though, both go down in the initial bloodbath. She mourns them alone, while Haymitch drowns his sorrows down at the bar.

And time passes, the same way it always has. Too fast or too slow.

Part 5

[washoepine]

Hi, I’m here to talk about my ex (again) because I have a lot of thoughts.

I had mentioned before that my ex had cheated on me, was given a second chance with the firm requirement of counseling, and proceeded to try and cheat on me again within a month of saying he’ll do better.

After that he harassed me consistently for a month straight before I had to block him almost everywhere except for his phone since we still had the last bit of the apartment we rented together as the leased wrapped up. That harassment never really stopped. The month following was relatively quiet with him trying to contact me via email, which was largely ignored, a couple of times before he showed up where I live for the third time within a two and a half month period. Sure it’s not a lot, but when your ex had moved 4 hours across state after the first time, it’s pretty terrifying.

Long and tiring story to explain, I was forced into a position where I had to be friends with my ex, who is harassing me, just to get him to leave.

This is where the thoughts portion of things comes in: In my honest opinion, the best thing you can do for anyone you hurt is to genuinely apologize and then step back to let them process everything as you wait for them to reach back out. Because it’s not about what you want. It’s about giving people you care about the time to heal and breathe. The time can vary. For me, it’s going to be a long time before I’m okay and probably even longer before I fully forgive my ex for everything if I ever do fully forgive him.

Instead of him leaving me be he has constantly pushed and pushed and pushed for what he wants and never really thought about if that’s what I want or if I’m even okay with his actions and decisions. Up until this past week, I hadn’t even touched my comic or art in general since mid May due to burnout from the stress I was under due to my ex harassing me.

I had started to calm down this week and get back into working on my projects again, and then he showed up on the discord server I was streaming in while working with friends and chatting. Honestly, having fight or flight mixed with dread kicked in hard as soon as I saw him hop in the call on a server he was never apart of until this evening. Why did he join? Because he saw I was streaming on a public server and wanted to see me draw bc he wasn’t doing anything, and didn’t think about how I felt about it until others said to contact the mods.

I’m glad the mod team is understanding and kind, but I feel awful for inadvertently bringing that into a community where people are trying to work n their comics and talk shop. I hate that I feel like I have to step away from communities that I enjoy being apart of and enjoy talking to people in just because one extremely selfish person wants to harass me and say that’s not what they’re doing.

I’m tired of my ex harassing and stalking me. I’m tired that I can’t actually do much about it either. The amount of stress I go through when even the inkling of the idea of him becoming even more volatile and unstable scares me tremendously. I wish he cared. I wish he actually fucking cared and would leave me alone rather than being my stalker ex.

I’m going to dial back social media and discord use for a bit because I don’t want to be a source of drama and stress for people I have a lot of respect for. I’m still working on Joys and I have hard deadlines set for myself. I’m hoping to get back to update in the next month or two. I’ll see you all around. I’ll still reply to dms.

[sidekick-hero]

20 questions for writers

I was tagged by some amazing fellow writers, thank you so so much @puppy-steve, @corrodedbisexual, @steviewashere and @just-my-latest-hyperfixation 💜💜💜 (once again late to this because I'm still sick and feeling crummy)

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

Currently 167, 83 of these in the Stranger Things Fandom (my current one).

2. What's your total AO3 word count?

593,064 (holy shit)

3. What fandoms do you write for?

currently exclusively Stranger Things, the brainrot is still going strong.

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Emotional Motion Sickness

You know I'm a show off (I would let you get some)

Louder

we tangle endlessly like lovers entwined

I’m tired of asking to settle the debt

5. Do you respond to comments?

I really, really try! I want to answer to all of them because every single comment means so much to me. But I'm also at around 500 unanswered notifs on AO3 (not all are comments, some are replies on my comments) and it may take a while to catch up 🫣

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Ufff, pretty sure that's we pass the ghosts that haunt us later. The ending is ambiguous, but was angsty enough that @legitcookie demanded it to be fixed...

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

... which led to us co-writing the next part I wore his jacket for the longest time with a happy ending that to me at least feels like the most satisfying happy endings of all of my fics.

8. Do you get hate on fics?

So far I haven't, my experience with fandom has been entirely positive and wonderful 💜

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

Juuuuup. Love it. I think most of my fics are rated explicit. I had a phase in which I mostly wrote pwps, trying my hand on more comedy and romance but I feel like writing smut might be my calling 😂

10. Do you write crossovers?

I wrote one, a crossover between Stranger Things and Fargo S5. It's a metaldeputy fic (Gator Tillman and Eddie Munson) called caught in the careless arms of lust again

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I know of at least.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Yes, two have been translated to Russian.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Yes! With @legitcookie and with @yournowheregirl, and it's amazing. I loved it and would definitely do it again.

14. What's your all-time favorite ship?

I think steddie, it just really scratches an itch I didn't even know I had.

15. What's a WIP you want to finish but doubt you will?

Uffff, good question. I would never say never tbh. And I don't have many WIPs. Maybe the Time Travel threesome fic (Eddie/Eddie/Steve) I started with Jen. Still loving the idea but not sure when I'll be able to get back to that.

16. What are your writing strengths?

Smut, I think? And a few people told me I'm good at vivid descriptions.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Long sentences. Dialogue. As stupid as it sounds, plot? Like, world building and coming up with a complex plot.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

So fucking hard.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Queer as Folk, wayyyy back in the day.

20. Favorite fic you've written?

Oh man, that's a hard one, I love all of my fics. I think from my multi-chapter fics I have to say I wore his jacket for the longest time, especially because of how much I loved writing it but also because I love me a good character growth and second chances fic. And of my one-shots I have a soft spot for to the rhythm of eternity (my love letter to my favorite city) and Take your time (I wanna cross some lines) (a pwp I spend AGES on writing).

I have no idea who has been tagged already so if you've been tagged please forgive me and link me to your answers 💜

@runninriot, @hbyrde36, @acasualcrossfade, @judasofsuburbia, @pearynice,

@shares-a-vest

[hugsandchaos]

Arthadow concept/AU???

I made this last summer and realized I never shared it. So here you go! While I work on the oneshot! And the rest of my WIPs, which I think is… 3? I’m bouncing between fandoms like a dang ping pong ball machine, so please forgive me for my all-over-the-place-ness.

Anyways, after Little Shadow was launched in the escape pod, his emotions got really out of control and started affecting his chaos abilities. When it all burst out of him, Little Shadow was transported back to Arthur’s time. More specifically, when Arthur was a kid as well. He just sat and cried as the pod crash landed somewhere in a forest just outside of Camelot. After the crash was over, Little Shadow curled up into a ball and cried himself to sleep.

He remained there for days, ignoring the hunger biting at his stomach and relying on the chaos energy to sustain himself, until he finally went outside and started to explore. More days passed and Little Shadow had learned, much to his horror, that he wasn’t on Earth. At least, not that he knew of. Last time he learned, Camelot was a kingdom from centuries ago, and magic wasn’t real. There was chaos energy, but not magic. Little Shadow also took one look at the knights and instantly feared that they’d be just like the G.U.N. soldiers. He didn’t know why they were after him, but he’d heard Gerald saying that he was scared they’d experiment on him or use him as a weapon.

Little Shadow became something of a petty thief, but could you blame him? He was starving! Besides, they’d literally left the food behind, and it was only about 8 times! He always returned to the crash site. The pod may not be in its best shape, but that and the stars were the closest thing the young hybrid had to home now. Every night, he’d look up at the stars and cry. He was supposed to see them with Maria. They’d spent so much time excitedly waiting for the time they’d look up at the stars from Earth, and now, he’d give anything to return to them.

One day, Young Arthur finally managed to sneak out of the kingdom unnoticed and made a dash into the forest. He just had to investigate that fallen object from weeks ago! The knights hadn’t decided whether or not to go yet for whatever reason, and Young Arthur had grown tired of waiting for the news.

He approached the crash site with great curiosity and some caution, but mostly excitement. He looked at the wreckage in awe and confusion. Metal and glass? What kind of strange object had come down from the endless cosmos above? Was it made by unknown divine beings? Young Arthur soon noticed that the cylindrical structure was hollow near the ground. He got down on his hands and knees, something he’d most likely never do if he wasn’t alone, and looked inside.

He came face to face with Young Shadow.

•Shadow has a near irrational fear of thunder and other loud noises, especially sudden ones (Arthur started to cover his ears with his hands if things got loud or if he knew things were about to get loud. At some point, Shadow started going straight to Arthur during thunderstorms for comfort.)

•Arthur is terrified of being submerged in water, so when he has to attend swimming lessons, Shadow tries to be as close as he can be (Shadow is an amazing swimmer as it’s one of his favorite activities, and he once tried teaching Arthur how to float on his back, which worked. When he first saw Arthur fall into the pool and heard him scream, he bolted into the water and got him out as fast as he could. Arthur still hates and fears having to swim, but Shadow being in there with him helps.)

•Most look at Shadow’s obvious, not-so-hedgehog-like features with disgust or fear, but Arthur is fascinated by them (He has so many questions and is one of the few people allowed to touch Shadow’s tail. Shadow also stays still to let Arthur look at his second row of teeth and forked tongue.)

•Shadow is grieving the incident and tends to cry a lot, and Arthur has no idea why because he hardly ever speaks, also thanks to the incident (The last time anyone tried telling Shadow to shut up and that it’s not a big deal because they didn’t know why he suddenly started crying nearly got really hurt when Shadow screamed and lunged at them. They got away with a few cuts on their arm from where Shadow grabbed them and dug his claws in, but they wouldn’t have been able to get away at all if Shadow hadn’t been pulled off. Shadow disappeared for two weeks after that.)

•Arthur is absolutely in love with him and doesn’t realize it yet, but everyone else besides Shadow sees it (The knights made a bet on when he’ll realize it and when he’ll confess.)

That’s all I’ve got 😐