#I’ve realized I’ve got some real intense anxiety around food

[to-dance-beneath-the-diamond-sky]

The past year has forced me to concede that yeah guess my eating disorder hasn’t gone away like I thought.

[thefanficmonster]

Interesting Encounters

Corpse Husband *& Reader (Female)

Warnings: Swearing, Mentions of Paranoia and Fear of Invasion of Privacy

Genre: FLUFF, Humor, RPF (Real Person Fic)

Summary: Corpse has an interesting run-in with his regular delivery girl, having the chance to talk to her for the first time despite her having been delivering to his door for months. It’s a big step in overcoming his anxiety and paranoia when talking to strangers.

Requested by Anon. Hi darling! Thank you so much for your wonderful request! Hope you come across the final product of your request and give it a read and if so I hope you like it! Sorry for the wait, I hope it was worth it though! Love, Vy ❤

It’s a regular Monday morning, close to 10AM and Corpse’s face is practically glued to the sound editing app he’s downloaded, playing around with some cool effects to add to his voice in the background of the new song he’s been working on. He hasn’t been able to sleep a wink thanks to the immense excitement, not that he would’ve been able to regardless, but the tune and the lines have been stuck in his head all throughout the weekend and he knows they’ll be bothering him until he turns them into something other people will be able to listen and give an opinion on as well. So far he’s done plenty of work but there’s plenty more to go until it’s done. He’s at that point he usually needs feedback and wants to ask for it but would rather not to avoid either too harsh judgement or fake praise.

He slides the headset off, deciding to take a break for the sake of his sanity before he drives himself to insanity with the intensity of his focus on this new piece. His brain just so conveniently sends him a reminder that his groceries are probably waiting for him outside the door. He has, as of the last half a year or so, had someone deliver his groceries to him to avoid trips to the grocery store with both the whole pandemic situation and the growth of following which translates to growth of the risk of him getting recognized. That’s the main reason - and maybe the only one - as to why he doesn’t interact with the people who deliver to him either. He always gives his delivery person the instruction to leave whatever he’s ordered at the doorstep and if it’s not takeout to not even ring the doorbell. 

That being said, the deliverer of his groceries doesn’t ring the doorbell to give him the kind reminder to be responsible, but luckily he hasn’t forgotten to collect them yet in the six months he’s been practicing this delivery technique.

Going to the front door and looking out of the peephole, he confirms there are several full plastic bags waiting to be picked up on the mat. With the person who brought them not in sight, Corpse unlocks the door and steps out to bring in the groceries for the week. Taking them to the kitchen, he unpacks the goods in the three bags. At first glance he would’ve been fooled, seeing as how it seems that all he has ordered is there. But, each Monday, he receives exactly four bags of groceries. One is missing. He rolls his eyes thinking he didn’t see it outside and left it there while he was hurriedly collecting the rest so he gets up to go grab it real quick.

While in the meantime...

Y/N looks through the remainder of bags in her minivan, making a route in her head for what roads and shortcuts she can take to deliver the last of the groceries to the respective homes they need to be taken to. Upon looking through them, however, she sees a bag labeled ‘MM’ that she uses short for ‘Mystery Man’, aka the guy who never opens the door to greet her whenever she delivers him anything. She works for several delivery services such as takeout, groceries, clothes even and has delivered to that apartment hundreds of times but has never met the resident, giving her the right to call him Mystery Man, aka ‘MM’.

“Ah, shit.“ She mumbles under her breath, realizing she failed to grab the fourth bag when on her way up to MM’s apartment.

Coming to terms with the fact that she’ll have to lose another five minutes going back up to his floor, she grabs the bag and takes off running back inside the building and up the stairs, deciding it would be quicker than taking the elevator.

Just as she arrives to the floor, heading straight for the door, it opens, freezing her in her tracks as her eyebrows shoot up.  At the doorstep stands a guy with an eye patch who looks more surprised and maybe even a little terrified than her. Taking in that Mystery Man is not such a mystery anymore, she returns to her professionalism, remaining at a distance and outstretching the hand holding the bag towards him.

“Sorry, forgot to drop this one off as well, I’m a bit all over the place today.“ She says in her most professional voice.

Corpse too regains his composure and takes the handed bag from Y/N gloved hand. Before he can think twice about it he says, “Thanks, uh...”

“Y/N.“ She says, “I’ve delivered to you countless times, it’s funny you don’t know my name but it’s to be expected since I’ve never seen you. This would be a good time to tell me your name so I don’t have to call you Mystery Man anymore.“ She laughs, cutting her own laughter off barely a second later when she realizes what she’s said, “Oh, fucking shit...”

Corpse chuckles, clear amusement in the sound, “Mystery Man? Interesting, interesting. If I ever become a superhero I’ll make sure to pick that name.” He fails to even pay mind to the fact that he’s spoken a lot more than he’d usually feel comfortable with.

Y/N laughs a little awkwardly, rubbing the back of her neck, “Yeah, sorry about that. I promise to come up with a better one if you’re not willing to tell me your real one. Like....Pirate, for example?” she suggests, raising her shoulders.

He can’t help but let out a laugh, “You’d be surprised, but my name is not so far from your mark. It’s, um....” He’s not looking forward to the judgmental look or the questions he might receive in response to his statement but he succumbs to the expected disappointment, “My name’s Corpse.”

Surprisingly, she just smiles - a smile he cannot see due to the surgical mask she’s wearing but the crinkle at the corners of her eyes gives it away. “Cool! Well, I better get going then.”

Just as she turns to head for the elevator this time, seeing as she’s still out of breath from the run up the stairs, Corpse gets an idea he’d probably not be too fond of if he gave himself time to think it over. Which is exactly why he didn’t.

“Hey!“ He calls after her, gaining her attention immediately, causing her to turn around, “You got a minute? I need a little help with something...“

Y/N’s eyebrows raise a little, a moment before she shrugs her shoulders, “Meh, I’m already behind schedule, what’s an extra minute gonna do?” And just like that, they strut their way back towards his apartment.

He can’t help but chuckle, taking the opportunity to crack a joke, “This is how people often get killed. You don’t just walk into a stranger’s apartment like that.”

She scoffs as she passes the threshold, “Believe it or not, you can learn a lot about a person based on the groceries they buy. And trust me buddy, you’re not a murderer.” Earning herself a laugh and a nod with that remark, she continues, “You do appear to be an artist with all the cheap food you’re buying though.”

Corpse laughs yet again, a hint of nervousness is sensed in his laugh this time around though, “Yeah, well, I don’t know if you’re still gonna call me an artist when you hear this song I’ve been working on. Not even out of the box yet.”

Y/N stops in her tracks, “Well, well, well, aren’t I honored to be one of the lucky people hearing this before its release.”

“The first hearing it before its release.“ He corrects her with a pointed look, not missing the excitement that arose in her eyes.

“Let’s hear it then!“

Of all the friendship stories that exist, no one can say this ain’t a unique one.

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[sadachmesarthim]

bingo fill two: cum fetish

content: peter being a Sudden Service Top, shy!tony, tony being an Absolute Whore 

hope you enjoy <333 

Peter was nothing, if not a man of science. Above all else, he cared about thorough investigation and novel discovery.

So when he realized what a cumslut Tony Stark was... He decided to experiment.

They hadn't been together long - they'd danced around each other for years, finally caving when Peter finished undergrad. It was a comfortable type of love - something you see in old movies, or cheesy romance novels.

But the sex... Jesus christ, the sex.

Peter hadn't had much time for... self discovery, while in school. Between patrol, double majoring in biochem and genetics, and maintaining a semidecent sleep schedule, there wasn't really opportunity for him to date or fuck around.

So when he came back to Manhattan, and they finally quit mooning over each other... needless to say, Tony hadn't had that much sex since his twenties.

It was generally kind of nice. Tony was sweet, gentle in his love making. Peter preened under the attention, sure - there was nothing wrong with their sex life. But Peter could tell Tony wanted something different.

When he brought it up, Tony turned bright red, stumbling over his words.

"It's not... There's nothing wrong, honey, really, I promise. I just... Sometimes I wish I was in your... position." This left Peter confused. "You... You want to bottom?" He'd never mentioned anything about it before.

Peter's tone didn't help Tony's blush, nor did it make him feel better about the whole ordeal. "Listen it's not... It's not an issue really and I don't... I don't have to. Seriously, if you're not comfortable we-" Peter stopped him mid sentence.

"Okay, no, that's not what I said at all. I just didn't know what you meant, Tony, let's take a step back." His hands immediately went to Tony's shoulders, bringing the older man back to the present. Grounding. "I love you, you know that right?"

Tony relaxed in his grip, taking a deep breath. "I know, I know, and I love you too. I just... It's embarrassing." Peter cocked his head, still not following. "You gotta use your words, T, or I can't give you what you want."

He closed his eyes, thumbs stroking over Peter's knuckles. He could do this, he could do this.

"I... So you know how you got bit by the spider, right?" Peter was very aware. He was also aware of just how bad Tony was stalling.

"Tony if you don't just spit it out I swear to go-"

"I want to see how much cum you can fit inside me!" He broke. With Peter holding him, right up in his face, he couldn't do it, couldn't hold it in anymore.

He slid to his knees, head falling into his hands. "I just... You can go so much, and sometimes when I'm fucking you I get to thinking.. How many times could you go in one night? How much could you produce? A few ounces? A cup? More? Makes me cum so quick just thinkin' about it, even in my old age. Can't stop thinkin' about it, about you fillin' me up like that. I can't do it anymore.

"It makes me feel like a gross old man, you know? Thinking about you like that? About you using me like a toy? It drives me crazy but I can't stop, can't keep it in anymore." He was shaking, unable to stop himself once he started.

Peter's eyes were wide, mind racing to process what Tony was saying. The bite had impacted their sex life - he could rebound almost instantly, and he did... produce more than the average twenty-something.

He sat down next to Tony, cradling him. "That's all you had to say, baby, it's okay. Shh shh, you're okay." he rubbed circles into Tony's shoulder, kissing his temple. "You know I'd never judge you for wanting something, right?"

Tony sighed. He knew that, logically, of course. His anxiety around admitting it didn't listen to logic, though, and it was hard to override that. "I know. I know. I love you. I'm sorry for freaking out."

Peter just kissed him again. "It's okay, T."

•|||•

Peter waited a few weeks before bringing it up again - both for Tony's benefit, and his.

He'd spent a long time digging through medical journals, doing independent research... He even made a (very awkward) call to Dr. Strange.

It didn't take him long to create a game plan: he needed to double his water intake, get more leafy greens and ripe fruit in. It wasn’t difficult - he had to shift around some of his calories, sure, but he made it work.

The worst part was not orgasming. He and Tony'd resumed their normal sexual activities a few days after their... discussion. But Peter made it a point not to cum - he wanted to build up as much as possible.

Even worse - he was edging himself several times a day. Massaging his prostate, sleeping with Tony, jerking off until just on this side of orgasm in the shower... He made it a point to work himself up and then leave himself there. He'd read several articles that talked about edging and semen production, and they all agreed - the less you cum, the more you produce and retain.

So he went with it. For the better part of a month - he didn't cum.

Tony, initially questioned it - but with some solid reassurances, and promises that Peter had "something exciting" in store, he let up. Getting him on the edging process was fun too - enough spice to keep Tony entertained until Peter was ready.

And ready, he was.

•|||•

He decided on a Friday night - that way they'd have all weekend to recover (or continue, if Tony wanted).

He made a real spectacle of it, too - stocking them with water bottles and easy snacks, bringing in a bunch of clean towels and leaving them at the foot of the bed. He wanted this to be good for Tony, and part of that was being ready for anything.

He waited until Tony was finished with work to bring it up. He didn't want Tony to be distracted at all, and he knew exactly how much anticipation can hinder daily activities.

When Tony walked through the doors of the penthouse, he could tell something was up.

It wasn't like Peter to be so... Flighty.

He was walking circles around the bar, drink in hand. Tony couldn't tell whether or not it was a drink drink, but it didn't matter... If Peter was up and pacing like this, there was definitely something up.

"Hey baby, how was your day?" Okay, yeah, something's definitely up. Peter never asked - he always waited for Tony to start - always gave Tony the opportunity to either vent about, or forget entirely, the day he'd just finished.

Tony dropped his suit jacket on the bar chair, walking back to meet Peter where he stood. He grabbed Peter's face in his hands, kissing down from his forehead to his lips. Peter sighed into the contact, relaxing immediately. "It was okay. What's got you all tense like this?"

Peter exhaled sharply before responding. "You know how you... brought up that thing, a few weeks ago? That thing you wanted to try?" Tony hesitated, eyes narrowing. "I... Yeah. Why?"

Peter blushed under the scrutny. "I've... Well, you know how I've been working on that thing? Not... not coming? I wanted to surprise you... And I think today'd be a good day." Tony was confused now. "You... you wanna try it? Topping, I mean?"

Peter snorted. "Not just topping, silly. That thing you specifically mentioned - seeing how much I could make, for you? I've been keepin' myself on edge, saving up all my cum for you." Tony shivered, goosebumps forming down the entire length of his arms. Peter's breath left his hair on edge, his words burning straight through Tony.

"I... I remember. Are- are you sure? Like I said, I mean, we don't hav-" Peter cut him off almost immediately.

"If I didn't want to do it, baby, why would I bring it up? Why would I spend almost a month edging myself for you? Why would I spend a month intentionally eating semen-enhancing foods, hmm? You think I was doing all that stuff for the hell of it?" Tony blushed at the words, head dropping to Peter's shoulder. "No, of course not, I ju-"

"You need to stop making excuses." Peter pulled back, meeting Tony's eyes. "If I didn't want to do this, I wouldn't have brought it up. Wouldn't have spent so long making sure I was full enough, had enough for you. You know how long it's been since I've cum, T, baby? Twenty seven days. It's been twenty seven days of edging, of producing this-" he reached down, gently cupping his own balls through his shorts "- for you? All of this cum, just waiting for you, waiting for your pretty hole?" Tony shivered at the words. Fuck, Peter knew exactly how to work him up.

"I'm sorry, baby, I just- this is a lot. So much, Pete, you gotta know that." His vulnerability was aparent.

"I know, Tones. We can go slow if you want - we won't do anything. Just want to show you i'm willing." Peter's tone was gentle, reassuring. It helped Tony immesurably.

"I- okay. I want to. Try, I mean. I trust you, we just gotta.. Gotta go slow. I'm an old man, you know." Peter knew it was said in jest, but Tony would always have a soft spot in his heart. "Not that old," he poked.

Tony bit back with a kiss, forgoing words he wasn't sure he could find. It was slow, soft at first - a thank you for everything Peter did for him, for the whole situation.

Peter responded eagerly, taste of grenadine and carbonation on his lips. Thank god, he hadn't been drinking. Something Tony'd always appreciate - Peter's sober excitement. The energy he put into their relationship. The devotion. He balanced Tony out perfectly. 

Peter nipped at his bottom lip. It was sweet - playful, but it made the whole thing so much more intense. Tony responded in kind, licking into his mouth. He pulled a quiet moan from Peter, seizing the opportunity to meet the other's tongue. Passion always took a while to build with them - reverence and love always taking priority.

Today, though... Today was different.

Tony's mind was still going steady, trying to process exactly what they were about to do. Peter really wanted to try this with him. It was groundbreaking.

He felt the excitement burn low in his stomach. He'd always had a thing for cum - whether it was his inside someone, or vice versa - there was just something so visceral about it. Watching it slowly drip from someone's hole, sucking it out, sharing it. The idea of breeding someone, of being bred, having cum forced inside him over and over again, without consequence...

He'd tried to keep his love for it under wraps - Pepper had no real want for children, and god forbid he get wrapped up in a custody battle. He hadn't messed around with other men since his twenties, either, so the opportunity to explore this side of him just... never came up.

But now, with Peter - his most beloved supertwink with a refactory period of, like, -1, and his enhanced output... the possibilities washed over him.

He hadn't realized just how turned on it made him until Peter separated them, hands toying with Tony's waistband. The sudden lack of lips on his gave him the opportunity to express his appreciation - several broken moans escaping him. "Oh god, Peter, baby please."

He never claimed to be above begging, but he didn't do it often. It was a sight to behold, and with Peter being on a hair trigger...

Peter reached up, grabbing Tony by the throat. "What do you want, love? Use your words, tell me. Can't give you what you want if you don't use your words, Tony."

Tony dropped his head, gasping into Peter's neck. "Please, Peter, baby. I need you to fuck me."

Peter laughed, breathy. "Can't hear you, baby. Come on, come up and tell me what you want."

Tony looked up, shaky exhale falling onto Peter's lips. "I. Need you. To fuck me. Please, Pete?" His request was met with a smile. "Of course, baby."

Peter reached down and hooked under Tony's thighs, lifting him up like he weighed nothing. Tony often forgot about Peter's strength when they weren't in the field - feeling weightless like this, safe in Peter's arms? It was erotic, it was safe, it was everything. "Oh, god."

Peter took them to the bedroom, carefully setting Tony down on the bed.

Tony reached his arms up, snaking around Peter's neck. He brought them together for another kiss, not wanting to lose contact with Peter.

Peter chuckled, carefully peeling Tony away from him. "We can't do this if you don't let me get naked, T. Be patient." Tony rolled his eyes, allowing his fists to fall back to the bed. "Been patient, need you now." Peter tossed his shirt to the floor before dignifying Tony with a response.

"Don't talk to me about patient, mister. I've gone almost a month without coming, how do you think I feel?" He finished removing his jeans, leaving him in nothing but strained boxer briefs. Tony could see the outline of his cock, already leaking. He was nearly as hard in his own pants - which he was suddenly excited to remove.

Peter, perceptive as always, walked toward Tony and began helping him strip. Now shirtless, Tony reached up to place his hands on Peter's chest. He planted small kisses all over it, worshipping the man in front of him. Peter threaded his fingers through Tony's hair, enjoying the attention. "I thought this was about you, baby. Why you takin' your time with me?"

Tony looked up, smiling at the man above him. "Just thankful, is all. Love you." Peter cupped the sides of his face, reaching down and kissing Tony reverently. "Anything for you, baby. Anything. Now, let's get you out of those pants." Tony fiddled with his zipper, tugging the slacks down to his ankles before kicking them to the side. Now in a similar state as Peter, he felt so much more open, exposed. They were really about to do this. Peter had prepared for this. His dream was finally coming true.

He inhaled sharply, feeling the flush of arousal reach his cock. It was so intense, so much all at once - he felt high. This was definitely not an experience he planned on forgetting anytime soon.

Peter straddled him, shifting them back and up the bed. He met Tony halfway, sighing into the kiss. It was firey, full of hunger - neither really wanted to wait anymore.

Peter pulled back, meeting Tony's eyes. "Are you ready? You sure about this?" Tony nodded his head, mind too cloudy to use words right away. He was ready about this, so fucking ready.

His face must've said everything - Peter quickly helped him out of his boxers, sliding them down and tossing them next to the towels. He grabbed the bottle of lube he set out, wetting his fingers thoroughly before reaching down.

Tony'd opted to lay on his front, knees tucked under his hips for better access. Thank god for a nanite bed - they'd developed the tech to aid healing times and recovery after surgery and intense (battles) workouts, but quickly discovered the many sexual uses for it - one of which being added support for Tony's joints.

Peter traced over his hole, toying with him a moment. He very rarely topped in general, but he'd be willing to do it for the rest of his life if it meant he could see Tony like this. He was already so sensitive, gasping and rocking back into the attention. Peter laughed, gripping Tony's hip harder and steeling him before teasing his rim. He was so gentle - just barely dipping in with his index finger before massaging around and pulling back out. He wanted this to be good for Tony, not just a check off his bucket list.

Tony keened, hips pushing back into Peter's fingers. Greedy. "Relax, T. Let me do the work, okay baby?" All he received was a high whimper in response.

Peter laughed, rolling his eyes as he finally gave Tony what he wanted - he thrust two fingers in, careful not to go too deep to fast. Tony moaned, pitchy and high in his throat. It was so much better than he remembered.

Peter kneaded Tony's ass with his free hand, mouthing praise into his beautiful cheeks. Who knew he'd be such a service top? Peter certainly didn't, but he was definitely enjoying it.

He twisted his fingers, feeling around for Tony's prostate. When he found it he pushed, gently, redirecting his attention toward giving Tony the best prostate massage of his life. Tony instantly jumped, gasping into the sensation. Peter's fingers were just long enough to reach, just dextrous enough to keep him on edge. Tony fisted at the sheets, at Peter's shoulder - it was so much. Why did he ever stop bottoming?

He rediscovered his voice shortly after. "Fuck, Pete baby please, need you to fuck me now. Wanna cum on your cock, can't wait anymore. Please baby, please, need you." He was babbling, desperate and not willing to hide it anymore.

Peter, nearly as fucked out, conceeded. They were planning on going multiple times tonight, anyway, why not get the first orgasm out of the way? He pulled his fingers from Tony, wiping them off on one of the nearby towels. Good job, Parker.

Tony whined at the emptiness, still so unabashedly needy. Peter smiled to himself. He'd never seen Tony like this before, and he was so happy he was the one to do this to him. Tony was known for his stoicism and poker face - for Peter to be able to tear that wall down so easily? It was a pride point, for sure.

He reached for the bottle of lube again, coating himself in the cool liquid as he stroked. It didn't take much to get him ready - he felt like he'd been hard for eons, and wasn't thrilled with the whole "waiting" thing.

Peter rubbed over his hole again, smirking when Tony instinctively clenched around nothing. He sat up on his knees, easing himself into the man in front of him. Tony immediately dropped from his elbows, moaning as Peter sank all the way inside. It was so much better than he'd imagined - Peter wasn't particularly lengthy or girthy, but it felt like he was made for Tony. Designed specifically to fuck into Tony's hole, and to wreck him as he did it.

It literally brought Tony to his knees, arching back into Peter's touch and begging him to move. "Please, Peter, baby, give it to me. I can take it, whatever you give me, please, just please I need you to move. I need you to fuck me, baby, please."

it was enough to convince Peter. He pulled back, forcing himself all the way back with a quick snap of his hips. Tony moaned, broken and desperate. It was slowly becoming his mo - who knew Tony Stark was such a slut for his baby's cock, for his cum?

Apparently Peter'd been thinking out loud. He tended to do that during sex - couldn't keep his mouth shut, and whatever "filter" he had completely flew out the window. "Yeah? You like it when I fuck you, T? Like the idea of me cumming inside your pretty little hole? Wanna feel my cum leak out of you, baby? How much do you think i'll give you today, hmm? You do the math on it? I did. I did a whole fuck ton, just to see how much I'd give you.

"You wanna know how much cum I'll give you, T? Hmm? Math says it'll be 1000 mils the first time, can you imagine that? One thousand mililiters of cum, in your pretty little hole. Leaking out, drippin' all down your thighs? You're such a slut, can't even stay tight long enough to hold my cum inside. What a little cockslut, you are. Who would've thought?

"We already know how many times I can go. What was our max, like 8? Imagine eight of those fat loads inside you, love. Can you feel it? Can you feel me inside you? You're so tight, Tony, but you won't be when I'm done with you. No, I'm gonna stuff you full and leave you like this, leave you to feel as it runs out of you.

"Or maybe, maybe, I'll leave you here. I'll wipe you off, get you all clean. Then maybe I'll run over, grab one of our plugs. Plug your pretty little ass, leave you full of my cum. How about that? You like the sound of that?"

He did, by god Tony did. The sound of it, the sheer idea of being so full, so heavy with Peter's cum inside him... being plugged, and left to suffer..

It had him cumming embarassingly early. Tony typically prided himself on his stamina - stamina that was nonexistent with Peter's words.

He came, slack and broken, with Peter's name on his lips. He felt his own cum splatter on his stomach. It was pathetic, it was nothing compared to what Peter was going to give him. It was humiliating in the best way imaginable.

Peter groaned, gritting his teeth as he felt Tony tighten through his orgasm. It was too much, he was so on edge after waiting so long.

It was nearly painful when he finally came. He could feel his balls tighten, feel the fluid flowing through him and spraying out the other side. He felt like a fucking firehose, orgasm lasting nearly a full minute.

He felt like a popped balloon after, useless after being so thoroughly empty.

It was made perfectly fine, though, by Tony's rising stomach.

This might have been the first load, and it was probably going to be the biggest of them all, but Peter was still shocked at just how much of an impact it made. Tony's stomach grew, near a solid inch as Peter continued pumping into him. The more he thrust, the larger he got - Peter continued to thrust into him until it was painful.

When he pulled out, a healthy amount surged from Tony's abused hole, covering the sheets beneath them. Peter snagged a towel in time to catch it, not wanting it to soak through to the mattress. It took several to handle the mess in front of him, and by the time he was done Tony was nearly asleep.

Peter stood, walking over to their dresser. He opened the top drawer, removing one of their smaller plugs. There was zero resistence when he slid it inside Tony, preventing the rest of him from escaping.

Tony hummed, content. "When do you think you'll be ready to go again? Because I definitely need a nap." He hadn't opened his eyes, but he still blindly reached out for Peter.

He smiled, sinking down into Tony's arms. "Wake me up when you do. I'll be ready."

[ninzied]

that which we call a rose

based on the prompt: a hello/goodbye kiss that is given without thinking - where neither person thinks twice about it.

happy valentine’s day, kastle fam!

On the second Thursday of every month, Karen can’t help the extra spring in her step. There’s no point in trying to hide it—she does have an office adjacent to Matt’s, after all—but until she knows what it even is, she’ll let her friends draw their own conclusions.

This month is no exception.

“So…hot date tonight?” asks Foggy, precisely ten minutes after Matt’s said goodbye. Though Foggy’s doing his best to sound nonchalant, he’s clearly been waiting all day to spring the question on her. “You haven’t stopped smiling since you walked in this morning. And that was before we even had coffee. What gives?”

“Not a date,” says Karen lightly. “But a something.”

“Wait.” Foggy looks up from his briefcase, dropping every pretense now. “Yeah? That’s great! I’m so happy for you, Karen.”

She looks a little bemusedly at him. “Thanks, Foggy, but it’s not a big deal. Just takeout and whatever’s on TV tonight, probably.”

“Hey,” says Foggy. “Not gonna lie, but that sounds pretty appealing right now.”

Karen lets out a laugh. “Why? What’s stopping you and Marci?”

“You know how she gets about this kind of thing.” Foggy glances at his watch, and groans. “Shoot. I still have to pick up flowers. I can’t afford to be late—literally. This place had like a five-month wait list for tonight, and I think there’s a surcharge if we hold up one of their tables.” He throws her a rueful smile. “Wish me luck.”

“Good luck,” says Karen, in a tone that she hopes will come across as commiserating rather than slightly confused. Was there some memo about today that she missed?

“And you have a good ‘not a date but a something,’” says Foggy, practically beaming at her. “You can”—he gives a comical wag of his eyebrow—”not tell me all about it tomorrow, sound good?”

“Sure,” says Karen, smiling distractedly. She waits until Foggy has gone, the door closed securely behind him. And then she picks up her tiny desk calendar, which she’d forgotten to flip over to February, and looks down at today’s date.

Oh. God.

…

The signs are everywhere, on her walk home from the subway.

For the life of her, Karen doesn’t know how she could’ve missed them before. Paper hearts plastered on storefront windows. Floral shops spilling out onto the sidewalks. Restaurants boasting their two-for-one specials. And the couples. All the couples, wherever she turns.

By the time she’s at her apartment, Karen is nearing levels of genuine panic.

She hangs up her work clothes as if on autopilot. She pulls on a worn pair of leggings and a soft, oversized sweater before pausing to reconsider, and then she changes out of that too. This isn’t just any second Thursday of the month anymore.

She checks her phone, in case Frank has canceled.

She does have a text from him, but all it says is that he’s running about a half hour late—his latest demolition site is all the way up in the Bronx, and traffic is a bitch right now—but how does she feel about Vietnamese for dinner?

There’s no doubt in her mind that the day has not occurred to him either.

Perfect. I’ll be ready with the wine, she sends back, and immediately wonders what has come over her. Beer would’ve been the more appropriate choice for this very much not-a-date, and besides that, they never drink wine together. Whiskey, sometimes, but they’d finished off her last bottle of Maker’s the last time he was here.

Wine is different. Wine means something. Right?

What was she thinking?

And what on earth is she supposed to wear?

…

Karen answers the door an hour later, back in her sweater and leggings. She breathes a small sigh of relief to find Frank there in his typical attire—jeans, with a faded black henley, and a crooked half-grin as he steps over the threshold into her apartment.

“Hey,” she says.

“Hey,” he says back, like it’s just another day. Like this is just another dinner for them to catch up. He holds up a bag and says, “Hungry?”

“Starving.” She reaches for the food so he can get out of his coat, but he waves her gently off.

“’S’okay, I got it.” He looks at her, his gaze going warm. “Think you said there’d be wine?”

And just like that, the rest of her anxiety melts away. There’s still a light flutter of nerves in her stomach, but that’s something else.

Something that she’s always going to feel whenever she’s around him, whether it’s Valentine’s Day or not.

…

Despite how casually Frank is dressed, there’s always a sense of formality to the way he moves around in her place. Like he’s not quite sure whether he’s intruding or not.

He carefully folds his jacket over the back of her couch before taking the food to her kitchen, unpacking each dish as she pulls out the wine.

She tells him about work—minus Foggy’s theories on how she planned to spend her evening—and Frank doesn’t say much, but she knows that he’s listening, attentive to her as ever.

Somewhere between the first and second glass of wine is when he starts to loosen a little, leaning his elbows onto the counter, swiping the last bite of spring roll from her plate.

He tells her small stories about how work has been going for him, and each time she laughs he ducks his head down, the corners of his eyes crinkling.

They end up eating half the food before realizing they’re still standing in her kitchen.

Frank takes their wine to the couch, and she turns the TV on at low volume, flipping aimlessly through the channels.

They settle on a cooking show, which would’ve surprised her one year ago, before these Thursday night dinners. Before he teased her for the one frying pan that she owned and resigned himself to eating takeout from then on. Before they learned to laugh about things like what Matt said at work that day, or the fact that Frank hasn’t had to kill anyone with a sledgehammer. Not recently, anyway.

“All right,” he says, pointing at the pasta on her TV screen. “Next month, we’re doing this at my place for a change, and I’m making you that.”

She doesn’t know why she does it.

Maybe it’s his casual reference to next times. Maybe it’s how closely they’ve wound up sitting together, with her thigh snug against his, the arm he’s draped warmly over the back of the couch right behind her.

Maybe it’s the way this not-so-random Thursday in February feels as though it could become something like every day, for them.

“Deal.” She puts a hand on his knee without even thinking about it, smiling as she tells him, “All right, I’m going to go to the bathroom real quick.”

“Okay,” says Frank, turning to smile back at her.

It happens so fast, so instinctively that before she knows what she’s doing, she’s leaning in, and pressing her mouth briefly to his as she stands from the couch.

Like this is an everyday kind of thing for them too, kissing each other before one of them’s about to leave the room.

Karen makes it down the hall without any memory of how her legs have carried her there. Oh God. Oh God.

Her cheeks are flaming when she shuts the bathroom door behind her.

…

After splashing water on her face, and dabbing it dry with shaky hands, she looks in the mirror and wills every last part of her being to get a freaking grip. This is Frank, and she can be honest with him. Even if it means being honest with herself.

She knows what this is. She knows what she wants it to be. And she’s done letting either of them think that anything less is going to be enough for her.

Karen takes a deep breath and steps out of the bathroom.

…

She hadn’t been gone long, but apparently it was long enough.

The TV’s shut off, their wine glasses cleared from the coffee table. He’s not on the couch.

He’s not—anywhere in her living room.

But as she moves closer, she sees his coat still folded there, and then she hears the sound of movement in the kitchen. She doesn’t know whether she’s more relieved or apprehensive at the prospect of facing him right now, but she supposes she’s grateful she even has the option to decide between the two.

Frank’s clearing the counter, so she can’t get a good read on his face. He’s quiet, though, brows creased together even more somberly than usual, and the fact that he won’t meet her eye should tell her everything he’s not saying out loud.

Their leftovers are stacked neatly next to the takeout bag. He slides the bag out of her way as she picks up the food containers, storing them in her fridge. There’s a six-pack of beer on one of the lower shelves, the bottles clinking together as she closes the door.

“Frank,” she says, careful not to look over at him, “I think we should talk about what we’re doing here.”

He swallows audibly. And then he says, “Yeah. I know.”

She glances at him, wishing she weren’t as surprised as she feels. She’d expected more resistance from him, if not outright denial. It’s unfair of her, she knows; Frank’s abysmal track record notwithstanding, he’s still here, despite the fact that she’d just snuck a kiss out of him without his permission. That has to mean something.

Right?

God love him, though, but he can’t seem to keep his hands still. He grips the edge of the counter, and then reaches into the takeout bag, a rustle of paper and plastic that echoes overloudly in the silence between them.

Karen presses her lips together, biting back a refrain about how now is probably not the time for dessert.

Instead, Frank pulls out a small bouquet of white roses.

She stares as he sets them down on the counter. When he looks up at her, it’s with an intensity that nearly knocks her off her feet, and she grips the counter edge too in order to steady herself.

His gaze is unwavering on hers. “I’ve been thinking about this day for a while.”

She blinks at him, a part of her still wondering if it’s wrong of her to hope. “You have?”

“More than anything.” He shifts closer, and now she can see the last of the fear in him too, how he’s finally reached past it for something—for more. The edge of her own fear starts to soften, giving way to that fluttering lightness only Frank can make her feel.

Karen steps forward, marveling at the shared heat between them without their bodies actually touching. “And what, exactly, have you been thinking?”

Frank brings his hand up to the back of her neck, and she closes her eyes as he pulls her in.

He kisses her, and it’s everything Karen has wanted, everything she could only pretend that she hadn’t been waiting for all this time. He kisses her, and she knows how long he’s been wanting, and how hard he’s been waiting for this too.

He draws in a hoarse breath when they part. “I wanted to get this right,” he murmurs.

“Well,” says Karen, trying—failing—not to smile, “you want to know what I think?”

He tightens his arms around her. “What?”

“I think this is a good place to start,” she says, and leans in to kiss him again.

[binunus]

college bf!bin

a/n the duality of this man??? i’m deceased...anyway i did not think this would go this long but uh my hand slipped...happy birthday binnie!

word count: 5k

genre: fluff, smut, (tiny) angst _________________________________________________

ugh yo

bin is so??? infuriatingly hot??? yet cute at the same time

major: exercise science

and because I love mermaid prince/the beginning, he’s been on the swim team since first year college

swam varsity starting his second year

besties with eunwoo, they were roommates their whole college career

alright so bin loves making friends

he’s so playful and talkative once you really get to know him

but his aura?? tbh very intimidating

like he has an rbf and just like he’s so tall, broad shouldered, built, like he just carries himself very strongly that you will get intimidated when you first meet him

very well known in the university

literally has a professional photographed banner of him hanging in the athletic building with the gold medal he won freshman year

a little embarrassed about it

not really, only when the boys (as in literally the other five) tease him

myungjun: woOoOw bin that guy on the banner really looks like you, don’t you think?

rocky: we geeeeet it you’re a star athlete

blah blah blah you know the vibes, they’re endearing

so how do you meet bin?

basically you’re a friend of a friend—you’re eunbi’s (sinb) friend

you’ve only met bin briefly from time to time, but otherwise you never really had any reason to get acquainted with him

your only encounters of him are when he wants to annoy eunbi and she immediately puts him in his place

but then suddenly in the spring semester of your 2nd year, you and him are in the same 8 am

a boring statistics gen ed class that everyone needs to take in order to graduate

you were running a bit late during the first class meeting—you woke up 30 minutes after your alarm and literally rushed out of your apartment—you made it to class with 2 minutes to spare

most of the seats were filled up already, except that one seat in the back left corner by the window next to the one and only moon bin

oh would you look at that

you felt a bit relieved honestly, you didn’t know anyone else in that class so at least you saw a semi-familiar face

he grinned at you when you sat down

“hey y/n”

you were a bit taken back, “you know my name?”

he laughed a little, “yeah of course, you’re one of eunbi’s really good friends, why wouldn’t I know your name?”

before you could respond, the professor started class and ceased your conversation

one thing you realized as the weeks start to go on

you and bin could not give any two fucks about statistics

no offense to stats lovers

every 8 am on mon/wed/fri, neither one of you would pay attention in class

you both enabled each other to not pay attention basically

so when the professor announced the content and date for the first exam

you and bin literally looked at each other with the same expression

you were both fucked

after class was dismissed, instead of the two of you quickly packing your things and fleeing the room immediately, you both lagged a little bit

you: so...do you know anything that’s going to be on the exam?

bin: uh...no? y/n you’re literally right next to me, you know I don’t do jack shit in this class

you: well fuck, how are you gonna study then bin?

bin: I was probably gonna ask my roommate to help me, he passed with a 96 when he took this class

you give him the best puppy dog eyes you could muster up, you lean in and clasp your hands together like you’re praying

“can he help me too...? please?”

bin’s eyes go a lil wide bc you were a bit closer than he was used to and shit was his heart racing rn?

bin: uh...yeah...sure, i’ll text you to come over when we’re gonna study

you beam at him and like in your excitement you give him a hug

“thank you thank you thank you! i literally cannot fail this class. I’ll see you on friday bin!”

with that you grabbed your bag and just left, leaving bin shocked

he’s surprisingly a shy boy okay!

he always thought you were cute from when he first saw you hanging out with eunbi, but ofc he never thought any more of it

until you guys had this class together and he started to think every day, that wow you are really cute

bin texts you the next day

coincidentally, eunbi texts you too

bin: hey this is bin, if you’re free in an hour my roommate’s gonna help me go over the material in ch. 1

eunbi: why did bin ask for your number

you to bin: yes! send me your addy and i’ll be there :)

you to eunbi: we’re in the same stats class lol and we’re gonna study for our exam next week

eunbi: lol moon bin studying? you might wanna bring some wine with you for emergency y/n

you: lol what do you mean by that?

eunbi: binnie hates studying, but good luck!

ahh, eunbi becomes unhinged when it comes to bin

but you know it’s bc they’re that close, they’re literally childhood best friends, more so like siblings

still, studying w him couldn’t be that bad right?

spoiler alert, it went alright

you felt bad showing up to bin’s apartment empty handed so you picked up some coffee before you arrived

you officially meet bin’s roommate, eunwoo, and you’re floored for like 2 minutes bc literally how can a man like him be real?

cue bin being a bit jealous bc yeah he knew his roommate’s perfect but like damn did you have to be affected by him too :(

eunwoo’s a good teacher alright? you actually understood the material from him

you: idk what eunbi’s talking about, you’re actually not that bad at studying bin

bin being offended: oh god what did eunbi say about me

eunwoo smirking: maybe it’s because you’re here y/n, bin usually doesn’t focus this much when it’s just me trying to help him

you: ???

bin in his head: i can’t trust anyone huh 

before you left his place, you and bin planned to meet up and study one more time before your stats exam

it was just you and bin this time

although you’d never admit it, yes you tried to look good for meeting up with him

yeah he’s a friend?? at least you think you were at that level?? but still, he’s a cute friend and you really didn’t want him to see you looking crusty

you and bin end up studying for a whole 5 hours

granted, half of that time you two were messing around, eating food, trying to procrastinate for as long as you could

bc even though you two had a good handle on the material now—thanks to eunwoo—you both still hated statistics

you knew bin started to get more comfortable with you bc he started teasing you

it made you happy hehe so ofc you started to quip back at him

not at the intensity that he and eunbi do but it’s enough for you :)

he walks you back to your apartment after your study session

wow what a gentleman

bin waving bye at your door with the cutest smile: see you in class y/n :)

mayhaps your stomach did a little somersault

anyways

on the day of your exam you were freaking out

you have test anxiety ah ha ha

you woke up at 5 bc you were paranoid about being late to class

you’re like hastily looking over the notes again when you get to class like are you really prepared omg you’re psyching yourself out hella

bin comes in with 2 cups of iced coffee and he’s like woah are you okay

you: i woke up at 5 bin, idk if i can do this omg

you are like visibly in distress rn and he feels like a pang in his chest 

he was gonna mess with you and say like “bet im gonna get a higher grade than you” but he smartly decides against it

instead, he just takes your hand and gives it a little squeeze: y/n, take a deep breath. you’re going to do great, you studied your ass for this and we both know that you got this material down—even eunwoo hyung said you were gonna ace this exam. just trust your instincts, okay? breathe with me.

he was staring at you so intently and genuinely when trying to calm you down

your anxiety yeeted and suddenly you felt shy

you: th...thanks bin...

bin was worried about you while taking the test rip, he kept secretly glancing at you (while also trying not to make it look like he was cheating) just to make sure that you were okay

he walks you to your next class after you both finished your exam

bin: you sure you’re okay? you said you woke up at 5, did you even eat breakfast? let’s get food after your next class.

you were feeling better after the test but like you got so endeared at his fussing

yes you and bin got lunch that day

your exam results were uploaded the next day

you immediately called bin: I GOT A 95

bin: i told you that you would ace it! i got a 90 hehe

you: bin i literally owe you and eunwoo my life, lemme buy you guys food or something

you hear a little bit of bickering over the phone and suddenly you’re talking to eunwoo

eunwoo: i would love some sushi, but since bin can’t eat seafood, why don’t you come watch his swim meet this weekend :)

you: o...h...o-okay yeah i’d love to watch, what time is it? :)

eunwoo: it’s saturday at 10 am

you: okay! i’ll see you there bin

bin already planning on drop kicking eunwoo

cha eunwoo—best wingman™

you basically beg eunbi to go with you to bin’s swim meet

eunbi: i know bin can swim, why do i have to watch him flounder around under water

also eunbi: faster bin! don’t you fucking dare lose!

bin places first this meet

are we shocked? no

okay you mentally prepared yourself for seeing him shirtless, but clearly you didn’t prep enough bc you’re on the cusp of drooling when you’re watching him from the bleachers

and let’s face it, you’re not subtle and eunbi knows everything so she’s literally closing your jaw for you and like messing with you

eunbi: y/n, you’re really sure you like bin? he’s a good guy but c’mon, i think you deserve better

you: since when did i say that i like him ???? and what do you mean ??? i think he checks...all the boxes...for me...

eunbi: maybe it’s bc i’ve known him since when he used to wet his pants so i don’t understand why people are attracted to him, but like...really, you’ve been checking him out since he removed his shirt. even the ref can see that you’re simping over him

you and eunbi meet up with eunwoo and the rest of bin’s friends—that you haven’t met yet but know of

jinjin: oh so you’re the y/n that bin’s been talking about *wink wonk*

baby you’re blushing

even more so when bin comes up to your group

mmm middle parted wet hair, muscle tee and white sweats, towel around his shoulders

he’s so hot ???

you’re all congratulating him blah blah, but like bin keeps glancing at you and all you can do is just smile and like nervous laugh

sanha: y/n! eunbi noona! you should come eat with us to celebrate bin hyung’s win

eunbi glances at you, little smirk on her face: i have plans, but i know y/n’s free! bin you make sure they get home safe after y’alls dinner plans :)

hwang eunbi—best wingwoman™

dinner with the boys was chaotic, you were talking and joking around with them as if you didn’t just meet them today

*you about to get your wallet*

bin, not even able to look at you: it’s okay y/n, i got you this time

cue the boys teasing

astro: kings of making fun of each other

rocky as the group is splitting up: walk y/n home safely hyung :) don’t stay out too late

bin: sorry about them, they’re a bunch of loud idiots...ah haha...

the walk back to your apartment is actually pretty sweet

he didn’t know if you would actually come watch his meet or not but he was excited when he actually saw you

you talk about small random things about yourselves, but it’s not like useless information, you bet that both your subconsciouses are keeping track of whatever y’all are talking about

you give each other a “friendly” hug goodnight...that lasts like a minute or so

and while you’re hugging, bin just can’t help but think that wow you fit so perfectly in his arms

and on the other hand, you’re thinking he feels so warm? so safe? you don’t want to pull away?

but ofc the hug has to end and you’re thanking him for walking you home and he’s like glued to his spot waving goodbye sweetly and waiting for you to go inside so that he knows you’re safely in your apartment before leaving

bin sighing dreamily as he walks back to his and eunwoo’s place

eunwoo waiting on the couch with a glass of water: how was your date ;)

bin: it wasn’t a date, i just walked y/n home

eunwoo: yeah, but you want it to be a date

bin: ...shut up

god why is the pining stage so long

alright everyone knows you and bin like each other

it becomes pretty obvious after the swim meet

you and him fall into this little routine of switching who buys coffee for your 8 am

and then he’d walk you to your next class afterwards

you both still don’t pay attention in stats, sorry

but that means more outside study sessions dates

you come watch his swim meets, whether astro’s there or you’re just watching by yourself

and then you and him get lunch?? early dinner?? right afterwards, it depends on whenever his meet ends

but like??? neither of you have confessed your feelings for each other

even though you both have like a little hint that yeah the feelings are mutual

you and bin are literally like this for 3 months, like damn the semester is almost over

eunbi and eunwoo are tired of your shit, they’re both just like: when the fuck are they getting together? we’re sick of this.

alright so the masterminds literally pay one of eunwoo’s friends from his major to ask you out while you’re studying with bin

let’s do mingyu why not, he was in your korean history class last year

you and bin are in the library, half studying half goofing off per usual

eunwoo, eunbi, and mingyu are at the opposite side of the floor

mingyu: u sure bin won’t clock me for trying to ask out y/n

eunwoo: probably not??

eunbi: just do it please

mingyu giving them both the finger before walking up to your table

“hey y/n...i was wondering if you’d like to get dinner with me...as a date?”

you: o_o huh?

mingyu: i always thought you were cute from when we had class together last year, but i never had the balls to ask you out or anything...you’re not dating anyone, right?

you glance at bin to find that he’s already looking at you with an expression that you don’t really know how to read

you: um...well no I’m not-

bin: actually, we’re dating so y/n can’t go out with you mingyu, sorry.

mingyu’s not even phased, he just gives you a thumbs up and then leaves

you’re confused like literally what is going on—and then you process what bin said and you whip your head to look at him

bin: sorry i said that...i just felt...jealous i guess when mingyu asked you out

you: I wouldn’t have said yes anyway...I sorta like someone else

bin: fuck it, the topic already came up...y/n I’ve liked you for a while now but uh...I don’t know I guess I was scared to tell you because I’m scared of rejection

you just laugh, but not mockingly! more like bin you’re so cute wtf

“bin, why would I reject you when I’ve literally been into you for the past four months?”

it’s safe to say that you and bin officially began dating after that

eunwoo texting in their gc: bin and y/n are finally together

myungjun: fucking finally

bin: how...did u know that eunwoo...?

*eunwoo has left the chat*

alright but bin’s charm?? flirting?? teasing?? sweetness?? up 1000%

bin is touchy y’all, in private his hands are always on you, whether it be sexual or not sexual is up to you

he restrains himself in public ofc, the most he does is put a hand on your waist or hold your hand

eunbi threatens bin early on in your relationship: bin you’re like my brother, but y/n’s one of my dearest friends and if you as much make them cry i will kill you

ofc bin is still eunbi’s punching bag, but when you three are hanging out, he’s dramatic and acts like he’s hurt so he’s like whining to you

sometimes you play along and coo at him like: aww binnie, where does it hurt baby?

other times you’re like: you really think i believe that?? with the size of your biceps??

eunbi: excuse me while i vomit

okay but binnie? bestest sweetest boy

yes he looks all big and intimidating

but he’s soft—especially for you

your nicknames for each other are either “bub” or “baby”

yes will join in making fun of you with the boys, but when you start pouting he’s a goner and will defend you

bin is also a big cuddler, but i mean you’re not complaining hehe

he’s the big spoon, no questions asked

okay but being in bin’s arms is like your favorite place in the world

his frame literally just envelopes you and all you can feel and smell is him and it’s so??? content, you feel at home with him

you feel bad in the morning bc like his arm has to be sore from your weight so you try to like get out of his grasp, but he literally just whines and hugs you tighter

okay but just imagine you and bin napping and his arms are around your waist, his nose is buried in your neck and he wakes up like nuzzling his face in your shoulder like a puppy

im soft

one week you’re staying over at bin’s apartment and then the next week he’s staying over at yours, the cycle goes like that

if you’re one of my ladies with a ~vagíne~, he will buy all your cravings and your tampons/pads, literally anything you want that week, it is yours

doesn’t really get jealous now that you two are official, he knows that you’re his and he’s yours

you two lightly bicker like friends, but you’ve never had a terrible fight before

you were really close to though—or...like you did?? but it was resolved really quick

one of the only problems of bin is that he hates showing weakness and it takes him a whole lot to truly fully 100% be vulnerable with someone even if it’s someone close to him

he pulled a muscle in his arm and it cost him one of his swim meets

he had to go to rehab for like a month and you knew that mentally he’s been off bc of it

you try to ease talking him into telling you about how he’s really feeling but he just kept dodging the subject

one night after one of his rehab sessions, he came back to your place and you’re just like

“hey bubbie, how was rehab? how are you doing?”

and he just snaps at you: stop asking me how I am, y/n, it’s getting really annoying

you’re taken aback, like what the fuck where did that come from?

your eyebrows furrow and you cross your arms bc you are not going to get spoken to like that

“so me worrying about you and wondering how your recovery’s going is annoying? that’s what a partner is supposed to do, moon bin. what’s going on with you?”

bin: you’re being suffocating! it’s the only thing you ask me about nowadays, sometimes I—

oh boy you got mad

you: I ask you because I know you’re not telling me things! I know you’re suffering by yourself and I want to let you know that I’m here for you, I want to help take some of the pain away or at least help you deal with it because I’m your partner! but how can I if you can’t even let me in?? we’re fucking dating moon bin, we’re supposed to go through rough times together. and you call me suffocating...? 

bin’s silent and he’s looking at the floor

you sigh, tears are building in your eyes because you’re frustrated and a bit hurt by what he said, and your voice cracks when you speak again: if i’m suffocating you, then you should leave. text me or something when you can breathe again, I don’t know.

there’s a bit of spite in your words, hidden by the pain

bin sees the tears rolling down your cheeks and that’s when he knows he fucked up

he’s never seen you cry before—besides like from a sad movie or something

so like the fact that he made you cry and hurt you with his words? damn he hates himself rn

he immediately wraps his arms around you, and you like try to push him to get away bc why is he hugging you? didn’t he just say that you were suffocating? why is he confusing

bin: baby, I’m sorry...I shouldn’t have taken out my frustrations on you, you’re not suffocating me I promise...you’re right about everything, I should be sharing things with you and telling you how I’m really feeling...I’m sorry.

you don’t say anything and just like sniffle and he picks you up and brings you to your bedroom and then he just lets it all out

he tells you how rehab is hard and like yeah his muscle pain is going away, but he doesn’t know if he can swim as fast as he used to and that scares him

and he tells you that sometimes he’s thought of giving up swimming since his injury, but then he thinks of you and that’s how he’s still going through with rehab

you’re his motivator and comfort but he doesn’t want to show you his weak side bc he hates that part of himself

and at this point, bin starts tearing up and you’re like stroking his hair to try and comfort him

bin: I’m not good at telling my feelings baby...probably why I didn’t tell you I liked you until 4 months later...but I promise I’ll work harder and at least try and tell them to you.

ugh pain

anyway your communication with serious things got better after that encounter

eunbi finding out that you and bin argued and he made you cry and she literally punched his stomach

you: omg eunbi stop

bin: it’s okay...I sorta deserved that

eunbi: why...are you not swearing at me? shit, bin are you okay?

he nods to the girl and just puts an arm around your shoulder: we talked things through, don’t worry. I’m all good now, but I did deserve that punch because I hurt y/n when I promised you I wouldn’t

bin ends up having a full recovery and bam his first swim meet after he got the clear from the PT, he gets first place again

all the boys and you and eunbi were there supporting him

bin was hella nervous before the meet started, but you gave him a little good luck kiss and was like: I believe in you bub, no matter the result, as long as you give it your all and don’t hurt yourself again, you’ll be the winner to me :)

this was actually when the first “i love you” was said

after your little pep talk in the locker room, bin’s just hugging you and holding you for comfort

and he just went out with it

“I love you y/n”

you blush hella hard bc you were not expecting that

obviously you’ve been feeling it like yeah your feelings for bin have grown into love for a while now

you just bury your face in his chest and hug him tighter

“I love you too binnie, now go get em bub.”

he smiles and kisses you and tells you that he’ll see you after the meet is over

you come back to the crowd where the boys and eunbi are and you just have a huge smile on your face, you’re literally glowing

myungjun: please tell me you guys didn’t fuck before his swim meet

speaking of fucking

okay let’s get down and dirty ladies and gents wink wonk mmm grr bark bark

bin is so sexy y’all like i dont need to tell you that

he’s 100% a tease

you have a little muscle kink hehe

which bin very much uses to his advantage

if bin is wearing a sleeveless shirt, you bet he wants to smash that day

will walk around shirtless after a shower or after a workout just to turn you on and then depending on his mood, he might tease you for like an hour or you’ll just get right to it

he’s very proud of his body and the work he put into it and knowing that you get turned on from one look of it?? gives him an ego boost, he loves it

one time at a party, he wore a crop top (mm hello bad idea bin) and you literally went feral

you dragged him inside the nearest bathroom and just started making out

he’s an ass guy

...all of astro are ass guys, it’s just obvious with how much they slap each other’s asses and poke each other’s assholes

okay you know how he’s touchy right? i mentioned that earlier

he always wants you on his lap

even if there’s a space available, nope your seat is his thighs

ofc when the situation allows, like you’re not gonna sit on his lap in class duh

most of the time in public like if you’re hanging out with the boys or something, it’s innocent

but if he wants to be a tease, he’ll literally just tighten his grip on your hips and grind you down onto his cock

subtle, he won’t straight up thrust into you

just enough to get his dick stirring and make you feel the outline of it through your pants

and then he just stops and hugs your waist again?? wtf

his major’s exercise science right? will ask if he can practice on you for anatomy and physiology, but you know after touching you in a couple places, y’all will just end up fucking

likes to bite and mark

very proud seeing the hickeys he leaves on you

you can bite, but you can’t bruise, idk his upper body is exposed a lot bc swimming so you can’t really leave any marks on him unless it’s the off season

foreplay’s cool, but he prefers the main event, he just wants to be in you

as much as he loves doggy, his fav position is the hook

(it’s when your legs are on his shoulders ohoho and it just lets him fuck you in a deeper angle mmm)

also in the hook, he can choke you

if i have a choking kink, you have a choking kink

okay little tangent, choking is so hot?

like just imagine you and bin are making out, he pushed you against the wall, literally grinding his hips into you, and his hand just comes up and squeezes your throat? that’s so sexy

likes butt stuff oops

i don’t make the rules, he just does

daddy kink, but no power play

will not degrade you (even if you really just want him to call you his dirty slut) bc he really values seeing you as equals

seeing your face when you cum is a must

almost always: you cumming → bin cumming

nothing gets him off more than knowing that he’s making you feel good

after !! care !!

sweetest boy!!

will clean you up with a warm towel after sex

and if you’re one of my ladies, he will always remind you to pee so that you don’t get a UTI

if y’all had a marathon or something, he will draw a bath and carry you to the bathroom and you will bathe together, so soft

always ends sex with an i love you :’)

okay let’s get back to the soft stuff

special thing about swimmer bin: pool dates

sometimes when he’s practicing and it’s just him, he asks you to come to the aquatic center and you two end up splashing around and being cute together

he like knew that you were the one for him some time during senior year

it was the holidays and his parents invited you to spend christmas with their family since your parents were out of the country this break

his parents and sister liked you immediately—which you were so scared about, but bin just knew

you woke up early christmas eve (and bin was out like a rock) so you just went downstairs to brew some coffee or something and you saw that his mom was already starting on making food

naturally, you offered your help and she was like no, you’re a guest y/n, but obviously you started helping

bin comes downstairs like an hour or two later to see you, his mom, and his dad just cooking and listening to christmas music and talking and his heart just like swells??

you: morning binnie :)

his mom: how can you be sleeping when y/n’s here helping us with christmas dinner

his dad: what kind of boyfriend are you, son?

just kidding all jokes

but that’s the moment when he knew

best boyfriend bin ugh

he becomes a legend in the school for swimming

but doesn’t continue after college, he’s all about becoming a physical trainer after graduation

he goes to grad school, while you’re out working in business

bin moves in with you after graduating, it was the obvious next step

you do talk about the future together, but obviously bin’s still in school and you’re both fresh from undergrad so there’s no rush yet to tie the knot

doesn’t stop his or your parents from talking to you two about marriage tho oops

ugh but the domesticity after bin moves in with you? superb

like yeah obviously you both basically lived together anyway when he still roomed with eunwoo just from how much you and him spent at each other’s places

but like your apartment is now both of your place and it’s like your home is finally complete

your apartment becomes the reunion place for the boys and eunbi

at this point everyone knew you and bin were gonna get married eventually

eunwoo and eunbi: we did that ;)

and that’s how you and your college bf!bin live happily ever after uwu

happy birthday binnie moonbob ♥

1-25-21

[beauty-and-passion]

Hey! How are you? Just came across your blog recently, and I gotta say I absolutely love your theories!! I’m still catching up, but they’re so well thought out and deeply analyzed. It’s an absolute joy to read through, so thank you for all your interesting ideas!

I love theorizing myself too, and I’ve been wondering a bit about what the upcoming season finale of Sanders Sides will look like. Do you have any thoughts/theories on that?

I believe Joan mentioned we will have another 1/2 Asides before the finale of the current 2nd season. After FWSA (which apparently is playing an important part in the overall storyline according to the team), I feel like we might get an intense 2-vs-2 situation that could revolve around Thomas and Nico. Virgil and Roman on one side arguing Thomas is ready to start a relationship with Nico, and Patton and Janus on the other side arguing against it. Don’t know whether Nico would make a return so soon though, as it also feels Roman’s arc might become a vocal point in upcoming episodes (then again, the two could intertwine).

Anyway, do you have any ideas on how the finale would play out? Could we potentially get some Orange hints? (I am freaking out about him lately so would LOVE some more hints in next episodes lol.) Sorry if this is too long for an Ask Me Anything, still figuring out how to Tumblr. Would love to hear your thoughts!

First of all: thank you, I’m glad you like my theories! And I hope you will keep hanging around, because more will come in the future ;)

Second: don’t worry, this wasn’t a long ask :) it was nice to read your thoughts on the matter, because that’s not an easy one!

Third: o-oooh, what a question! I really love it! But I will also need some time to properly answer it, so I apologize in advance for my late reply.

Before starting, a premise. As you said, there will be two Asides, then a two-parts episode that will end season two. During every two-parts episode we visited the room of a new Core Side and considering we’re into Roman’s arc now, it’s pretty clear Roman’s room will be the next one. That also means this two-parts episode will be focused on Roman.

But Roman’s plot isn’t the only one we have now. There’s also:

The whole “Dark Sides relationship” (yes, I’m talking about you, Virgil and Janus)

Remus (his relationship with Roman, his functions, his future role in the creative process)

Logan and his issues

Considering that those are pretty big themes, I would develop them all in season three and just give some hints for now. There will be time to properly address them all later.

The only other plot I would keep is the one about Nico. During the first livesteam after FWSA, Thomas said he wanted to show how character!Thomas deals with a relationship. So yes, Nico IS a big deal, he will come back and the next big theme will probably be about him.

Having said that, here we are:

My Theories On The Next Two Asides And The Possible Ending Of Season Two.

_______________________________________

THE ASIDES

So we have three Asides and six Sides. Two of them were in the first Aside, so I would take them out for the other two.

We have now four Sides to see. Leaving one or two behind would have no sense, so I think we should see them all, two at a time.

Second Aside: Remus and Logan

Why the next Aside should be about them? Because we need to start talking about the creative process and how it isn’t just a purely “Roman” process, but something that requires Remus’ constant stream of ideas on one side and Logan’s realistic approach on the other.

However, it’s still a bit too early to talk about that: Thomas needs to grow, Roman needs to grow. For now, I would start by showing little by little how Remus’ suggestions can potentially be useful, if properly developed and tamed.

And we can do it thanks to Nico.

Some time passes between the first and the second Aside. Thomas and Nico starts to date, everything is good.

But Thomas is still insecure, because of what Virgil said to him in FWSA: “Will deceit continue to be the answer to all of your problems? Is that fair to (Nico)?”. So he tries to be as much honest as possible with Nico, to the point of ending up being brutally honest sometimes. Nico would be a bit weirded out by this behaviour, but accept it with a shrug.

So, since things are going so well, Thomas wants to make it official. To finally be boyfriends and not just two-people-who-see-each-other-and-kinda-like-each-other.

And that’s where Logan and Remus would come into play. Thomas’ thoughts about Nico would get Remus’ attention and the sudden brainstorming session would get Logan’s. The first would poke Thomas for his less chaste thoughts, all while suggesting weird, inappropriate ways Thomas can ask Nico to be boyfriends. The second wouldn’t tear down Remus’ suggestions, but work around them, show their flaws and how they cannot work.

This back and forth will lead to Thomas realizing what he can do and how. And this solution wil be the good one: Thomas would ask Nico to be boyfriends and Nico would accept.

Third Aside: Janus and Patton

Until now, we saw two kind of cooperations: Roman and Virgil’s is based on feelings and “pushing” each other through their emotions. Logan and Remus’ is a cooperation “in power”: they work well together and we just got a glimpse of how fruitful this cooperation will be in the future.

In this Aside we will see a third kind of cooperation: the most stable and balanced one. We would see how well Janus and Patton would steer Thomas together, how they’re able to talk and compromise, how they’re gradually smoothing their most extreme points of view for Thomas’ sake. And we would see them getting along well, despite their differences.

But why showing it now? Because this would be the perfect moment in time to show it. Because now Thomas is in an official relationship: things are getting real and there are A LOT of decisions that should be taken every day. Janus and Patton’s guidance would shine and prove how a cooperation between Sides isn’t just possible, but it leads to big, better results.

And it would also prove that Roman and Virgil’s fear in FWSA (that Thomas was using deceit to solve all his problems) was without merit. Janus’ power isn’t as uncontrollable as they thought. On the contrary, with Patton’s morals balancing it and when properly used, lying help Thomas achieve more. His relationship with Nico grows stronger.

Things are going well.

_______________________________________

SANDERS SIDES - ENDING OF SEASON 2 PART 1

I’ve got an idea in the back of my mind for a while about how things can get worse and it’s something like this:

As we saw in the Asides, Thomas and Nico’s relationship is going well. Things moved very fast, yes, but they really like each other, so it’s okay.

One day, Nico says he wants to introduce Thomas to his family. Despite an initial peak in anxiety (a subtle way to show us that Virgil has problems with change in general), Thomas accepts to meet them.

Thomas is getting ready with Roman and Virgil. Virgil is - guess what - anxious about this meeting, but he’s also all butterflies in the stomach. Roman is absolutely delighted and keeps circling around Thomas, suggesting him what to wear, what to say, how to move: in other words, the whole “Himbo hopelessly in love” starter pack.

For a while, the meeting is going smoothly. Then Roman and Virgil notice how, once in a while, Thomas drops a lie. Something like “The food is delicious” when it’s not or “what a beautiful dress” even if it’s hideous. And the two Sides get worried. Once again, they try to force Thomas to stop lying, because Lying Is Always Bad and there can’t be true love with lies.

Still insecure and pushed by them, Thomas stops lying. He inevitably ends up saying something offensive/extremely mean and/or he ends up acting so badly the meeting has to end. Nico finds an excuse to justify Thomas’ behaviour with his parents (something on the line of “Thomas is very tired”) and Thomas is forced to leave.

When he comes back home, the discussion is inevitable. Roman and Virgil straight up blame Thomas for lying in the first place, because he wouldn’t have messed up so much, if he was honest from start.

But when Janus appears to defend Thomas and tells them lying IS useful in some circumstances, the situation escalates quickly. The two Sides attack Janus, blaming him for everything and making heavy statements on how deeply he corrupted Thomas/Patton or something similar. On the other hand, Janus attacks them back. They throw words at each other, things are starting to get pretty serious...

And just when the situation reaches its climax, Patton appears. He takes Janus’ side, he explains why lying is useful - especially during formal circumstances like meeting your boyfriend’s family because you want to be accepted, not to be seen as a complete jerk - and he bluntly tells Morality is HIS job, not Virgil’s nor Roman’s.

In this standstill, Thomas’ phone rings. It’s Nico. He wants to talk with Thomas about the evening. Janus suggests a simple lie (I was tired/long day at work), but Nico tells Thomas this isn’t the first time something similar happened - thus reminding us about all of Thomas’ “bursts of honesty” we saw in the second Aside. Honesty that wasn’t seen as such by Nico, but as weird, mean behaviours from the guy he likes.

So when Thomas tries to justify himself with some lie, Nico stops him. He tells Thomas he thought about a lot of stuff, after the meeting ended. He thought about their relationship. He thought about Thomas’ behaviour. Maybe they should’ve dated more, before becoming boyfriends. Maybe they moved too fast. Maybe introducing Thomas to his parents was the wrong choice. Maybe they should think a bit more. And maybe they should take some time for themselves to think about what they want to do, before going further with this relationship.

Nico hangs up. Janus is speechless. Thomas is on the verge of crying. Patton is heartbroken. Virgil is shocked.

And Roman is absolutely devastated. The love he wanted so badly, this happiness he desperately needed, is now in danger. Instead of strengthening the relationship, everything he did only managed to worsen it.

Roman sinks down and locks himself in his room.

_______________________________________

SANDERS SIDES - ENDING OF SEASON 2 PART 2

We already had a Side ducking out and a Side welcoming the others in his room so, for this third time, we should try something different. And what’s better than Thomas & his Sides trying to break into Roman’s room?

Remus might appear for a while, just to help them get inside and leave. There are already a lot of issues Roman has to face now: his relationship with Remus can wait season 3.

So we have Thomas, Virgil, Patton and Janus all in Roman’s room. And the confrontation can finally take place.

Roman will talk about his issues, his low self-esteem and how he feels constrained by Patton’s morals. He will finally admit how he desperately wanted to go to the callback and how confused he was by morals, when he first sided with Janus, only to be blamed for not siding with him in the following episode. He would start seeing the problem with his black/white mentality and we would have a nice, mature moment with Patton apologizing for giving Roman this mentality - while promising he will grow to be a better Morality. We would also have Roman and Janus properly apologize to each other for everything they said and finally work things out.

And we can end it like this. It could be a nice ending, with some conflicts solved, others still to solve and a lot of hope for the future. Patton would feel even more motivated to keep up with his growth, because he’s not doing it just for himself but for Roman too. Roman would feel better, because now he knows no one will blame or mock him for his insecurities - on the contrary, they would still be by his side no matter what. Janus would learn that cooperation is necessary and that he should keep doing it, because this is the right choice.

And Virgil... well, Virgil would drop hints everywhere about his upcoming “second arc”.

In the first livestream after FWSA, Thomas hinted at a possible “second arc” for Virgil. So, since we have a whole season to fill, I would move Virgil’s arc, his confrontation with Janus and all the dark sides’ dynamics into the beginning of the third season. For now, Virgil may hint at a future confrontation with Janus that should happen in the first episode of season 3.

And what about Thomas?

Thomas would accept Nico’s decision and write him that he will take this time to become a better man. We may even close the episode with Nico smiling for this message, proving that he’s not mad at Thomas, he still loves him and that their relationship isn’t ended at all.

Then, we would have the end card.

And the end card would feature the Side I purposely took away from the whole season two finale. Logan.

After starring in the second Aside, Logan should completely disappear for the following two episodes and for the finale. No one should mention him or even think about him. He wouldn’t appear at all. Until now.

We would see him in a room, looking at the last episode of season 2 on Youtube. His face would be completely expressionless and he wouldn’t say a word, because the only voices would be the ones coming from the pc. The camera would slightly move to show a figure behind him. A small refocus of the camera on a little orange accent on this figure’s clothes.

And bam, the end. No explanations, no voices, nothing else. Just this. Because this would drive the fandom insane. Did Logan know Orange was behind him? Were they watching the episode together? Was Orange trying to kill him or what? What would happen? All questions that would accompany us while waiting for season three.

_______________________________________

And this is how I think the next Asides and the ending of season two will play out. Of course this is pure speculation and the next Aside might be about something completely new that makes my whole plot useless - but hey, that would mean a whole new theory to elaborate :D

In the meantime, I hope you enjoyed my thoughts! And for all the readers, well, feel free to add your own thoughts here about how the events will play out! Maybe one of us will get them right, who knows?

[unbridgeabledistances]

final part of valentine’s day fic is here!! this is maximum fluff, i hope u enjoy:’)

--

Mickey sauntered into the Gallagher house, rubbing his hands together to warm them as he quickly slammed the front door shut to block out the bitter cold. He shuffled his coat off his shoulders, trying to go through the same mental checklist he’d been that had been running through his mind all week. Okay. 7 o’clock. He was right on time— now he just needed to shower, and put on a clean fucking shirt before he tried to get Ian to come with him…

Mickey turned the corner into the living room— and was met with Ian standing there, leaning against the back of the couch with his hands behind his back. The lights in the living room were dim, and the house was surprisingly silent for a Saturday evening; if Mickey didn’t know any better, it seemed like someone had coordinated having all the Gallaghers out of the house at the same time this evening.

His eyes flickered to meet Ian’s, who was watching him carefully and steadily from across the room, his gaze soft but piercing.

Mickey’s heart instantly started to thud, and he wasn’t really sure why— maybe it was the intensity of Ian’s gaze, or maybe it was the fact that all of a sudden, all his scheming from the past week had finally caught up with him. What if what he was planning for tonight was too much, what if Ian fucking hated it? Mickey tried to swallow down the anxiety gnawing at his insides, willing his heartbeat to settle back down to an even tempo. Be cool.

“Hey. Where is everybody?” Mickey asked, feigning nonchalance as he pulled off his shoes.

Ian gave a sheepish smile. “Might’ve suggested that they find other places to be tonight.”

Mickey smirked. Fucking sap. “Oh yeah?”

Ian’s gentle, closed-lip smile grew a little wider, and then he pulled a bouquet from behind his back, his gaze still hesitant but piercing, a laser beam burning a hole into Mickey’s chest.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Mick,” he breathed.

At first, something deep inside Mickey made him want to squirm out of his skin, made him immediately feel the need to open his mouth to make some quick retort how gay and sappy it was to even think about getting Mickey a goddamn bouquet of flowers for Valentine’s Day, like he was some fucking girl— but before that sentence traveled from his brain to his mouth, Mickey noticed what type of flowers they were and the words got caught in his throat. These weren’t just some cheap fucking flowers Ian got him to try to fulfill a convention, or because he thought that that was what he was supposed to do— these were blue stargazer lilies, the flowers that Mickey had picked out for their wedding before everything went to shit, and all of Mickey’s towering expectations for the day had been forced to crash down and crumble to the wayside. These were flowers for Mickey— these were Ian showing that he listened, that he remembered, that he cared how important this shit had been to him. These weren’t flowers for anyone else.

Mickey realized he was standing frozen in the middle of the living room with his mouth gaping open for a millisecond too long. He quickly snapped it shut, and put his hand up to his brow like he always did when he was trying to keep his shit together. Ian just kept staring him down, his eyes gleaming as they caught the low light.

“Got these fuckers special ordered on some sketchy website yesterday,” Ian admitted in a low, throaty voice as he held the lilies out in front of him, rustling the cellophane and paper they were wrapped in. “I was pretty desperate. Cost a shit ton.”

Mickey cleared his throat. “For someone who didn’t care about all the wedding bullshit, you’ve got a good fucking memory.”

Ian smirked. “Yeah, well, listening is what marriage is all about, right?” He suddenly slouched slightly, like a weight had appeared on his shoulders. “Listen, Mick— I know you don’t really care about Valentine’s Day or whatever, but the other day with Franny just got me thinking about how I wanted to do something for you, just to say I’m sorry for how tough shit has been lately. M’sorry if you think it’s too… I don’t know, too fucking gay or whatever.”

Mickey smirked. Fucking Gallagher. He immediately took a long step towards Ian, bridging the gap between them, invading his personal space and tangling their fingers together. Ian’s eyes widened, his lips almost imperceptibly parting in surprise. Their faces were millimeters apart; Mickey could feel the warmth radiating off of Ian’s skin, the space between their lips hanging heavy with tension.

“Thank you for the goddamn flowers,” Mickey murmured, holding Ian’s heavy-lidded gaze.

“Welcome,” Ian exhaled, his breath tingling on Mickey’s lips.

And then Ian’s hands were digging into Mickey’s hipbones, and wrapping around his lower back to pull him in closer, and their lips were meeting with a searing tenderness that almost made Mickey’s chest ache. Their lips crashed together again and again— not like they were building towards anything, or scrambling to get their clothes off and rush into the bedroom like usual— but like everything was wrapped up in this kiss, like everything was pouring out in every press of their lips and every tug of Ian’s teeth at Mickey’s bottom lip. It was a kiss Mickey could lose himself in, with Ian’s hands cradling his neck and pulling on the back of his waist, holding him upright. And he almost would have— if he didn’t suddenly remember all the shit he had planned tonight.

Ian kept his eyes on Mickey as he pulled away, his pupils blown out and his hands still pinning Mickey into place.

“What d’you want to do now?” Ian asked in a low voice.

Mickey tried to hold back the grin threatening to burst across his face. “Well, I’ve got some fucking tricks up my sleeve too, Gallagher, so why don’t you go change into something nice and follow me?”

**

“Mickey, where the fuck are we going? It’s freezing, we should’ve asked Debbie to just drive us instead of taking the L.”

Mickey was briskly walking a couple of paces ahead of Ian like a man on a mission. He turned to Ian and flashed a mysterious smile over his shoulder— without slowing down, much to Ian’s irritation. “Quit your fucking whining. We’re almost there.”

Ian rolled his eyes, but jogged to catch up with Mickey and intertwined their gloved hands. “Better be,” he mumbled in a voice that was supposed to be annoyed but he knew came out overly fond.

Mickey just smirked, squeezing Ian’s hand and leaning into the touch.

Ian didn’t know what the fuck they were doing on this side of town— he and Mickey had never really been over here together, except during that whole shitshow with Byron and the engagement. Mickey definitely had something up his sleeve, but this was… definitely not where Ian had expected Mickey to drag him off to.

And weirder than that, Mickey seemed nervous— like, genuinely sweaty-palms nervous, which was not a state Mickey was in very often. Whatever the fuck Mickey had planned for them, Ian knew it was a big fucking deal for him; hell, Mickey even acknowledging that today was Valentine’s Day for Ian’s sake felt like a big deal in his book.

Finally, they turned the corner and Mickey’s pace slowed. They had reached a block of the city known for having a lot of fancy high-end restaurants, but tonight the street was dim— even though it was Valentine’s Day, indoor dining was still banned and all the restaurants on the block were closed, their dark front windows looming and reflecting the streetlights.

All the restaurants on the block, that was, except one— and it was the place that Mickey was towing Ian towards, to under a classy, warmly-lit sign reading “Sizzler’s Dining.”

Ian felt something rise in his throat, flushed heat flooding his face.

“Holy shit, I just realized something. We’ve never actually been on a real date.”

“Bullshit!”

“I’m serious— like, a date where you sit down, and you go to a nice restaurant, and you put on a nice shirt and you, like, eat with utensils.”

“You wanna do that?”

“Yeah, why not?”

“What, like at Sizzler’s?”

In an instant, that cool autumn night came flowing back to him— his scrawny, bloodied body hanging off of Mickey’s solid presence beside him, the fuzzy sensation of alcohol warming him from the inside out, making him feel normal for the first time in weeks before everything had split open and gotten messy again. Those were the days when things felt the darkest they had ever been, when all he and Mickey had to cling to was each other— until eventually even that got ripped away too, when Ian was shoved into the backseat of an unfamiliar car with tinted windows, and they settled for the fact that they would never get to have this.

They’d never had the chance to go on a real date, a date like Ian talked about that night, between then and now— Ian had been locked up, and then Mickey had been, and they’d barely gotten married or been together for long before COVID had hit and everything shut down. Sure, they’d gone to the mall food court a couple of times between Mickey getting released and all the shit with Paula and the engagement and the wedding—but never like this, never here.

For years the ground had been shifting beneath them, threatening to open up and swallow them whole— but now, they’d finally made it somewhere solid.

The glowing sign cast shadows onto Mickey’s face—Mickey, who was biting his lips and casting his eyes downward in trepidation, like he was waiting for Ian to say something, to pull something out of him.

“Mickey, are you fucking kidding me?”

Ian cupped his hand under Mickey’s chin before Mickey got the chance to respond, shifting his gaze up from the concrete.

“You said I had a good memory, but I was nothing compared to this. Fucking Sizzler’s?”

Mickey finally smirked, meeting Ian’s eyes with relief. “Why don’t we go inside.”

Ian shook his head with disbelief, smiling a crooked smile and playfully shoving his upper arm. “You’re softer than I am, Milkovich.” Mickey just rolled his eyes and reached out to grab Ian’s hand.

Ian fully expected them to go inside the door and grab some sort of take-out, then head back home to eat and spend the rest of the night in bed— but what Ian couldn’t have imagined, what absolutely no amount of knowing Mickey Milkovich could have prepared him for, was what met Ian’s eyes when they entered the restaurant. The entirety of the main room had been cleared— all the tables and chairs were pushed to the side, except for one single table in the middle of the room covered with a red tablecloth. The lighting was dim, jazz music was playing low, and there were candles flickering around the room; just like the hotel room they’d stayed in for their honeymoon, with the heart-shaped bed and the satin sheets, the whole thing was extravagant and kitschy and tacky beyond belief.

It was fucking cheesy and over-the-top and ridiculous, like a set straight out of a rom-com; and in spite of it all, Ian felt something welling in his chest. Mickey wanted to give me a normal Valentine’s Day.

Mickey walked towards the table, gesturing to the table halfheartedly.

“S’what you wanted, right? Romantic dinner and a box of chocolates and some sappy fucking note?”

“Mick…” Ian breathed out. He didn’t have the right words to describe what was welling in his lungs, in his throat, on his tongue. He couldn’t imagine how much coordination this must have taken— Mickey had rented the entire fucking restaurant, had made someone set all of this up— and had done it all when Ian didn’t have a goddamn clue. He hoped that his awestruck silence communicated to Mickey what words couldn’t.

His eyes flickered to the table—there were two place settings laid out, along with two wine glasses and way too many utensils than Ian knew what to do with. On the place setting opposite where Mickey was standing there was a tacky, red heart-shaped chocolate box that almost blended in with the tablecloth—and on top of that, a sealed white envelope.

Mickey noticed Ian’s eyes lingering. “You, uh. You can open it if you want. I fucking tried my best, but it’s not much.”

Ian reached deep into his pocket, pulling out a heavy cream-colored envelope.

“I got you a note too.” He took in a breath, trying to gather his thoughts. “I figured… I don’t know, you were so into the wedding and all that traditional bullshit, and I saw something online that said your first year together you’re supposed to get each other something paper. So, I, uh, I wrote you this.”

He held the envelope out in front of him—Mickey reached and took it from his hands like it was something delicate. They stood there for a moment.

“Wanna read them on three?”

Mickey smirked, breaking heaviness hanging in the air. “What is it with you and countdowns, Gallagher?”

Ian rolled his eyes, then pulled the chair out from the table and sat down, lifting the envelope from where it was nestled.

“One… two… three.”

Ian peeled the seal of the envelope, ripping it open. Inside was a plain white piece of paper, folded in half and clearly worn, like it had been creased and crumpled repeatedly. He unfolded it to a page of chunky handwriting, the ink smudged and blotched in places where Mickey had run his hand over the paper.

ian,

i’m bad with words, and you fucking know that, but you wanted a valentine’s card or some shit so. here it is. not sure what i’m supposed to write, either.

i always thought i was fucked for life, ever since i was a kid. but for some reason, i couldn’t shake your ginger ass off and it turns out that you were the best thing to happen to me. which you already know, but in case i don’t say it enough- you fucking saved me, gallagher. you’re everything i’ve got, and the happiest fucking days of my life have been spent near your crazy ass. so here’s to lots more years of doing crazy shit together, and making the south side our bitch for the rest of our lives.

i love you. for better or worse, in sickness and in health, im yours.

mickey

Ian swallowed down whatever he was feeling, and turned his gaze upwards to where Mickey was seated across from him, reading his note that was scribbled on a simple card he’d found at the dollar store:

Dear Mr. Gallavich,

Happy Valentine’s Day. If you’re reading this, this means that I’ve either forced you to, or you’re half as much of a soft motherfucker as I am. There’s nothing that I can put down in paper here that I haven’t said already- that I’ve been in love with you since the first time I saw you, that I always want to be where you are (and I always have). I guess the best way to put it is that no matter how much shit we’ve both been through, for some reason I still trust the universe, because the universe gave me you- whatever it throws at me, it gave me the thing that I needed the most to get through it. You’re everything, Mick- you’re the center of it all, and I feel so lucky every day that we made it here.  

So happy fucking Valentine’s day. I love you.

Ian

Ian rose from his seat—he knew his eyes were shiny, but he really didn’t care—and crossed to where Mickey was sitting, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. Mickey stood too, wordlessly wrapping his arms to fold around Ian’s middle. They stood there, in the flickering candlelight, that yes, was nauseatingly corny, but also cast a soft glow across the space, letting Ian sink into the feeling of holding Mickey pressed tightly against him.

“Mick, we both gave each other the stuff we wanted, but never got,” Ian whispered into Mickey’s hair.

Ian felt Mickey’s lips curve into a smile against his collarbone. “Yeah, I guess we fucking did.”

part 1 of this fic here, part 2 here!

[shoutaaizawas]

↳ fantasy!au tamaki amajiki x reader → ❝just come home❞ part II

a sequel to my ❝my lady❞

summary: prince tamaki is gone fighting a war that you hope he will return from but all you can do is wait  word count: 2,826 tags/warnings: drama, feelings, mentions of war, injury, fluff

Months past. Tamaki wrote to you as often as he could. It meant a lot that he took the time to write you letters. You were sure he was busy beyond belief. He would ask how you were, how things were at home. He tried to keep the focus off the war and when you did ask how things were you knew he was softening what he told you.

It was brutal, or so that’s what you heard from the reports that the kingdom received. The battle was relentless, many people had been lost, and they were having trouble getting supplies.

Some customers would talk to you about the war, some of your regulars had lost loved ones already. It broke your heart to see the suffering this war was causing. You felt helpless. You donated what you could, making different poultices and potions that could help wounded soldiers. You only hoped that they made their way safely to those who needed it.

It was hard, you were left with the frustration of your cowardice. You wished you had told him face to face about how you felt. Some days as you wrote a reply to him you were tempted to tell him but it felt like telling him through a letter was giving in. Like you expected him to die. You refused to believe that would happen. He would come home. Then you could tell him, you wouldn’t make the same mistake again.

You would be lying if you said you weren’t worried. At this point, you couldn’t count the times that you had woken up in the middle of the night from a nightmare in a cold sweat. Usually, it was one where Tamaki was killed. Sometimes you were there to see it for yourself, other times you were in your store when you heard the news from a customer. Those felt so real that you had to wait with bated breath to hear the news in town to confirm it hadn’t happened.

Sometimes you dreamed that he came home, that you told him how you felt and he laughed in your face.

It was hard but you tried your best to be strong.

Finally, you received the news you had been eagerly awaiting. The war was over. The kingdom was safe. Now you were left with another type of anxiety, waiting for Tamaki to return. Wondering when he would have the time to visit you. No doubt he would have royal duties to attend to after everything that happened. It didn’t stop you from the selfish need to see him. To see him safe and alive. To wrap your arms around him and know that he was okay.

It was early morning in town, you had been passing by the gate of the city when you realized that the soldiers had returned home. Many people were scattered around the city, hugging their loved ones, crying in relief.

Looking around you hoped to catch sight of a white horse and a white and gold cloak but you couldn’t find anything. Anxiety gripped you. What if? No, you would have heard something if he had been killed. You took a deep breath and returned home. He was surely busy or perhaps he hadn’t gotten back to the kingdom yet. He would eventually stop by. You shouldn’t worry so much.

Time past The last thing you expected in your store was a royal messenger. The man entered the building with haste.

“The king has requested your presence and use of medical skills.” He said in a firm tone.

“Oh-” You said. This was unexpected. Why would the king ask for your help? Had something happened to him or perhaps one of his council members. “Let me grab my things.”

The King knew about you. Had Tamaki mentioned you before or had your shop’s name grew in the kingdom. You weren’t exactly a healer but you did have many of the same skills. There wasn’t time to wonder, you just needed to get your things.

Once you had your bag in hand you followed the messenger back to the palace. You had only ever seen it from a distance. Up close it was stunning. The architecture of it was beautiful yet strong. Walking through the halls felt fake. As you got further in you wondered just who you were here for and what help they needed. You hoped that you would be able to be of help.

“Thank goodness you’re here.” A woman with black hair said as she approached you. “Follow me.”

You nodded and followed her as the messenger parted ways. You watched her closely, she looked familiar but you couldn’t place why exactly. She approached a door stopping before entering.

“We had many different healers but he refused all of them, he’s so distraught I’ve never seen him like this.” She said as she opened the door.

It was a good-sized room, nearly bigger than your entire living quarters. It was simple, minimalist. A desk in the corner with a chair, dressers, and a mirror. You could tell the quality of everything was very fine but it wasn’t extravagant.

On the bed laid a familiar figure. All at once, you felt relief and elation at the sight of Tamaki but it quickly was overwhelmed by dread and worry as you realized he was injured. You rushed forward to his side.

Tamaki laid in the bed, sheets pulled up to his hips. He had no shirt on rather white bandages wrapped around his chest, the red staining them made you sick, tears burning in your eyes.

“Tamaki.” You said as you kneeled beside the bed. He looked so distressed, eyes pressed closed not peacefully but in pain.

“M-My lady? Is that you?” His voice sounded so weak, you could tell he was trying to open his eyes.

“Yes, it’s me.” You said trying to keep your voice even as you took his hand in yours, he didn’t need to sense the worry coming from you. “It’s okay, I’m here.”

“In the last battle he was injured badly, the field medics did what they could but he got an infection. He’s been in such a state he wouldn’t allow anyone close, he kept asking for you.” The raven-haired woman said.

“I’ll take care of him, I promise.” You said as you opened your bag and pulling out some supplies. “Can I please get some warm water and cloth.” You requested.

“Of course.” The woman said.

Taking off his bandages was your first step. Placing them to the side. You stopped to take a breath for two reasons. The first being it felt so intimate to be next to a shirtless Tamaki, you were sure if he was more coherent he would be redder than a tomato at the situation. The second was the wound inflicted on him looked bad. Not only was it deep but it was infected.

The woman returned with the water and cloth and you thanked her as you began cleaning the wound as gently as you could. Tamaki grunted at the pain but you softly shushed him letting him know it was almost over. Once you were done you applied a salve that would help with the infection. After that you bandaged him back up, trying to hide your blush as your fingertips brushed against his soft skin.

In your bag, you had a potion that would help him with the infection and healing quicker but he had to have something in his stomach and you were sure he hadn’t eaten with the state he was in.

“Excuse me, could I get some food and water for him. A hearty broth should be easy on his stomach.” You said to the woman.

“Just a moment.” She said before leaving the room.

You let out a sigh sitting on the bed beside Tamaki. You hadn’t had any time to process all of this. He was alive and would recover but not without worrying you.

“My flower…” Tamaki said softly, his hand blindly reaching for you. It sent your heart rate through the roof. He could not have meant to call you his flower. No, he was just feverish.

“It’s okay Tamaki, you’re going to be okay.” You reassured him, placing your hand on his.

“I thought I was going to die without telling you.” He said opening his bleary eyes.

Telling you what? Was there a chance he felt the same way as you? No. He was sick he didn’t know what was going on around him. But he asked for you specifically, a voice in your head said. Didn’t our truest selves come out at times like these?

“Tell me what?” You asked hesitantly.

“That I love you.” You told yourself he was sick he didn’t mean it but the way he was looking up at you, so intensely, so earnestly. It was hard to tell yourself otherwise.

Tamaki’s eyes fell closed and his body relaxed. You brushed your hand over him before leaning over and pressing a kiss against his forehead. It was a lot easier to have courage when someone was barely conscious.

“I love you too, my prince.” You whispered.

Once the woman returned with food and water you were able to spoon-feed him most of the broth, enough for him to take the potion that would help him.

“You can return home and we’ll send someone to escort you back tomorrow.” The woman said.

“If it could be allowed, might I stay here with him?” You asked. “To make sure his condition doesn’t worsen.”

It was a good cover, and to some degree true but you’d be lying if you said it was the only reason. It had been months since you saw the prince and you were not in a rush to leave his side.

“That would be most appreciated, thank you.” She said with a smile.

“I’m sorry, I never introduced myself or got your name,” You said realizing after all the chaos.

“Queen Amajiki, it’s a pleasure to meet you.” She said with a small bow.

Oh. Queen Amajiki. Tamaki’s mother. The Queen of the kingdom. And you had been ordering her around like a waiter.

“My deepest apologies.” You said shooting to your feet and bowing to her. “Please excuse my lack of manners. I didn’t know any better.”

“Please dear, don’t worry.” She said shushing you. “There is no need for any apologies. I’m the one in your debt. You helped my son, I couldn’t fault you on anything for what you’ve done here.”

“I feel so bad.” You said looking down.

“Don’t even think about it. I’m just glad you were able to help. Tamaki cares for you a great deal, talks about you all the time. I’m happy to finally have met this person he’s so interested in and you haven’t disappointed.” She said with a smile as she took your hand in hers. “And thank you for staying with him, I know I’ll be able to sleep easy knowing you will be with him and I’m sure the King will feel the same way when I tell him.”

“Tamaki is a great friend to me, he has helped me so much. I enjoy his company.” You said. “It means a lot that I could help him, and I’m relieved to see him home.”

“As we all are.” She said. “I will retire for the night, if you need anything there is staff everywhere just call for them.”

“Thank you, my Queen.” You bowed.

“Thank you.” She said before disappearing out of the room.

Standing there you tried to process everything. Suddenly you felt exhausted like you had run for miles and miles in the heat. You pulled a chair over to sit at Tamaki’s side. As much as you wanted to lay in the bed with him you didn’t want to make him uncomfortable in any way.

Watching his soft yet sharp features you realized he had a cut from his cheekbone to his chin, it wasn’t infected and it wasn’t too deep so there wasn’t anything to help it. You took a deep breath trying to calm yourself.

Tamaki was alive. And he had confessed his love to you. In the middle of a feverish state. And you had returned the sentiments. Had he meant it? Would he remember? Would you have the guts to say it again knowing he would remember?

Those were all problems you could solve later, for now, you would try to rest as much as possible.

The sound of movement pulled you from your uncomfortable sleep. Opening your eyes you saw Tamaki trying to sit up.

“Be careful,” You said as you moved forward to stop him in your half-awake state.

“I-I’m sorry.” He said looking up at you.

“Let me help.” You said as you helped him to sit up without hurting himself.

You could already tell that he was out of his feverish state. You wondered if he remembered, not know if you hoped for it or not.

“How do you feel?” You asked.

“A lot better, I assume that’s thanks to your brilliance.” He said.

“I wouldn’t call it brilliance. I’m just glad I could help out.” You said with a smile.

“You’re a sight for sore eyes.” He said with his own soft smile, you hadn’t seen that since he left. Your heart nearly beat out of your chest as you relished in the fact that he had returned home alive.

“I could say the same.” You said. “I missed you more than I could ever express.”

“As did I.”

“Tamaki, before anything else I have to tell you something. I meant to tell you before you left but I was a coward and I spent every day regretting it.” You said.

He looked intrigued but didn’t interrupt you.

“I love you and I have for a while now. Looking back I realize it would be impossible to have resisted falling for you. I know that I’m just a commoner and I know that even if you could ever feel the same way our relationship could not go very far because of it but I would feel untrue to myself if I didn’t tell you especially considering the fact you could have died and I never would have been able to tell you.” Your words spilled out and you worried that you sounded like a madwoman but it was a bit to late to rehearse anything.

Tamaki listened intently with a growing blush on his cheeks. There was a moment before he spoke that felt like a lifetime.

“I feel the same way. I had hoped to tell you before I left as well but the same problem befell me. I love you.” He said his cheeks nearly red. “I have been enchanted by you since I saw you on the path that day and I haven’t been able to get you out of my thoughts since. You are such an amazing person I find myself falling for you more and more each day.”

Silence filled the room but it wasn’t awkward. You could practically hear both of your minds trying to understand what had just happened.

“I’ve spoken to my parents,” Tamaki said. “About you. My parents don’t care to make any unions with any other kingdoms. They don’t feel that I need to marry someone of royal blood. They would prefer me to be happy. Even if they refused it wouldn’t keep me from you.”

Staring at Tamaki you repeated his words in your head over and over. He loved you. He wanted to be with you. Your blood was not a concern it wouldn’t keep you apart as you had thought would be the case.

Tears rolled down your cheeks. The day had been a roller coaster of emotions and you couldn’t hold it back any longer.

You moved forward sitting on the bed with him before wrapping your arms around him as gently as you could. Tamaki pulled you into him, resting your face against his bare shoulder before resting his head on top of yours.

“I never thought I had a chance with you.” You said in a shaky tone. “I feel like I’m dreaming.”

“I love you and I won’t let anything come between us.” He said.

“You didn’t let a war stop you, I can’t imagine anything else would faze you.” You teased. Tamaki smiled down at you.

Falling asleep in the arms of the man that you loved was something you never thought would happen even if you had dreamed of it many times. It was far better than you imagined it. The soft brush of his hand up and down your spine. The heartbeats echoing in your ear. The sound of his light breaths. All of it lulled you into a sleepy state.

“Good night, my flower.”

“Good night, my prince.”

taglist:  @sugarmaplewings-fics @lilkiwisfinest @ewwis @kandy1410 @moonlightaangel @winnies-headcannons @bakugousidehoe @paintedr0ses1 @toobsessedsstuff @spellboundxizi @ourladyofseijoh  @x0doodlebug0x @katsushimaa @mooncademia

[korra-the-red-lion]

Unnatural Affairs. Chapter 15: Back To Work.

(Ally)

Though the holiday weekend had been short, it was really lovely to have gone back home for those few precious days. I should try to make a little more effort to go home. I missed my parents and Wallaby, which mom caught me trying to sneak him into the back of the car. She wouldn’t let me take him after all the effort I put into getting him into a disguise. It was too bad. However, mom did pack me a ton of food in Tupperware that I could keep in my mini freezer.

After that conversation with grandma went so horribly, I stayed in my room for the rest of the night. Eventually mom came up to check on me, letting me know that it was okay for me to not return. Maybe dad meant nothing by his words, but my grandma most certainly did. I think mom felt bad that there wasn’t anything she could do to make the situation feel better, so her way of doing so was giving me a ton of food and offering to drive me back without dad. I took her up on that offer, but the evening of leaving I gave my concession that dad could come along if he wanted to. He had to work, though, so it ended up being mom and I alone.

She pulled into an empty parking space that was only a short walk away from my residence. Mom turned the engine off before she looked over at me with a look of pride. I blinked in mild surprise, unsure of where this was coming from. I cocked my head questioningly, which made her chuckle.

“I’m really proud of you,” she said sweetly, smiling at me. “Maybe you don’t see it, but I can see how much you’ve grown already. I know how hard it is to hear those words from your grandmother…and your dad, but the look in your eye was strong. It was hurt but I know you bounced back from it quickly. I’m not sure what you’ve been getting up to while you were here, but it must be something good because your confidence is brighter than I’ve ever seen it.”

Tears swam in my eyes as I reached over to hug her. I sniffled loudly, causing us both to laugh. When I pulled back, there were tears in mom’s eyes as well. She handed me a tissue and we both wiped at our eyes and blew our noses.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to make it so emotional,” mom said wetly. “I just wanted to know that I love you regardless. I never cared about you seeing spirits, as long as you don’t get hurt.”

Hearing those words lit a fire in my chest. Mom never outwardly said anything about my knack, except that she was very overly cautious with me at times. Her saying this to me meant more than anything in the entire world.

“Thank you,” I said softly, wishing I could say more. My inner turmoil was too much for me to comprehend at the moment. I squeezed her hand tightly, hoping the action would help get across my intense feelings.

She smiled at me again, her eyes shining with love. “Call me about anything, okay, Alexandra?”

“I will,” I promised.

I got out of the car after that, taking my bag of food alongside my travel bag. I waved to mom as she pulled away, and she waved back, sending me air kisses as she did. I caught them and held to my chest.

Just before she left, however, she rolled her window down. I walked over in confusion to see what she wanted, and she smiled cheekily at me. “Make sure you tell that girl how you feel soon, okay?”

I blushed as I stammered out my objections, but mom was already driving away laughing. Was there no one on this planet who wouldn’t tease me about it? Shaking my head in enjoyment, I walked back to my residence with a goofy smile on my face.

Sarah wasted no time giving me a huge hug and telling me about her weekend. Apparently, her family went skiing for Thanksgiving weekend. I listened with rapt attention, never been skiing myself. It sounded dangerously like something I would never enjoy as Sarah explained how her younger brother nearly careened off the edge of the mountain. I mentally made a note to myself never to go skiing with Sarah, who was cackling as she told me about her brother’s near-death experience. Actually, I decided to never do anything with her that could involve me dying.

After that, she made me tell her about my weekend. I did with some reluctance, but as I got more into it, I found myself enjoying it. I left out the bad stuff, and I was in tears with laughter as I explained how I dressed up the dog to sneak him over. Sarah demanded to see pictures, which I showed her immediately. We both laughed so hard that we couldn’t breathe over the pictures of Wallaby wearing sunglasses and a fedora.

We headed to bed sometime later in the night. But before I attempted to get some sleep tonight, I checked my phone for any notifications. I had a few from Michael, Mags, and even dad. For whatever reason, there was an unsettling feeling in my stomach as I noticed there was nothing from Lyn. Was I getting too overprotective? I just couldn’t get that look of anxiety she had on her face out of my mind. Was it even any of my business? Sure, we were friends, and I most definitely had a thing for her, but did that I mean I could pry into her private life?

Unfortunately, there were no answers to these questions. I sent a good night text to her before putting my phone face down for the night. Hopefully I would see her tomorrow.

XXX

“…which is why Medea is such an interesting tale,” finished Professor Kinkly. I found myself being elbowed awake by Michael, who was wearing a look of amusement on his face. I didn’t even realize that I had dozed off.

“Someone’s sleepy,” he joked as he put his notebooks back in his bag.

“I shouldn’t have slept in so much this weekend,” I amended. “It threw off my whole schedule.”

Michael laughed with a shake of his head. We waved to the prof as we left the classroom, who barely gave as a glance as we did. I was glad this class was easy, because I was mostly over it at this point. The material, which should be interesting, was made incredibly droll by this man. I couldn’t wait until this course was over with.

We walked out the classroom. The air was biting today, as it cut through our jackets. I pulled my jacket as close as possible, while Michael snorted in disbelief.

“You’re cold, yet you refuse to wear pants,” he said solemnly. “I admire the dedication to your style.”

“I hate wearing them,” I said. “I don’t mind pajama pants, but regular ones? Yuck.”

We both laughed as walked into the library. I bought myself a tea while Michael got a coffee. We sat down at one of the tables, letting the drinks warm us.

“I’m going to speak with her tonight,” I said quietly, making sure no one overheard us.

Michael nodded slowly, his eyes taking in the surrounding crowd. “I figured.”

“Has she spoken to you since the other night?”

“Nah, nothing,” Michael looked thoughtful. “I don’t think she will again, if I’m being honest. I think she talked to me so you would go talk to her. Which, thinking about it now, is extremely concerning. Why are they so aware of you?”

I pursed my lips. “I’m not really sure. Jamieson didn’t know anything about me. Dahlia didn’t know me either, but she could tell right away that I could sense her. Maybe she told Amelia about me? Dahlia told me she could leave the area, but she had to return. I have a sneaking suspicion that she’s been around, spreading my name.”

“Huh, I don’t know anything about her, but do you think she would do something like that?”

“It’s possible,” I hummed. “She knows so much but refuses to tell me everything. I suspect that she might even know who is behind the string of murders.”

Michael’s jaw fell open in shock. “Are you for real? And she won’t tell you who did it? Jeez, what a huge jerk.” He rubbed his face anxiously.

“Yeah, it’s very frustrating,” I grumbled, crossing my arms. “It’s like she’s testing me, but I don’t actually know what the test is. Doesn’t she want me to find the person who killed her and the others?”

“I guess being dead for a long time creates a lot of boredom,” said Michael. He slumped against the table, staring at nothing. We stayed quiet for a bit longer, until he had to head to his next class. I bade him a goodbye as I pulled out my notes from the case.

It was frustrating having so many pieces, but I couldn’t see the full picture quite yet. Maybe once I spoke to Amelia Turner something else would click, but right now it felt like I only had the frame of this puzzle.

Plus, I hadn’t mentioned it yet, but this occurred to me the other night after our chat we needed to go back to the locker room. Or at least, I had to. I needed to talk to Fiona, like have an actual conversation with her. Maybe even try and break through to who I assumed to be her brother. I saw the humanity in those eyes last time. Perhaps if I went again, I could get to him. I need to broach the topic with Lyn and Michael first, because I was scared to go alone, but I would if I had to. It felt like if I was going to be missing something important if I didn’t.

Oh, and I needed to talk to Jackie, the woman who got attacked. Maybe she knew nothing, but it wouldn’t hurt to ask. I saw her around on campus, I just haven’t had the opportunity to speak with her yet. I groaned as I wrote that down as well. There was so much to do, and I had a really bad gut feeling that I was slowly running out of time.

Annoyed with myself mostly, I gathered all my things up and tossed them back into my backpack. I was leaving the café when I happened to notice a familiar strawberry blonde standing at the water fountain, filling her water bottle. I glanced at my phone to check the time, and I had enough time to go over for a quick chat before I needed to head to my Sociology class.

“Hey, Lyn!” I chirped.

Lyn looked over her shoulder, her eyes lighting up in recognition. “Hey,” she said softly, turning back to the fountain for a minute. After her water bottle was filled, she screwed the lid on tightly before turning around fully.

“How are you?” I asked tentatively.

Her eyes searched my face before she settled with a shrug. I could see how worn out she looked, with dark circles under her eyes. While I was getting used to seeing her looking emotionally exhausted, I wasn’t used to this style of dress. I would say Lyn dresses for comfort most days, but today she was wearing skinny jeans with no distress, a button up boyfriend shirt that actually had the buttons done up, and even her ponytail seemed tighter. It was her normal look but…more put together?

“…Did you want to talk about it…?”

Lyn’s lip quirked slightly before she shook her head. “Nope, not really. How was your weekend?” she asked as she started walking. I followed after her.

“It was good, except for my grandma giving me grief again,” I said mildly.

“Grief?” Lyn questioned, eyes flickering to me for a fraction of a second before looking forward again. “What for?”

“Oh, the usual reasons. That I’m some unnatural freak of nature because of my special ability. She used to spray me with water.”

“That’s fucking stupid,” Lyn muttered darkly.

“Yeah, kinda,” I shrugged. “Okay, I shared. Now you have to.”

Lyn snorted, shaking her head. “I never agreed to that. Besides, it’s nothing.”

“Ah, I see,” I nodded. “Nothing. So, the exhausted look and new look have nothing to do with your weekend home?”

Something akin to anger flashed across Lyn’s face before she mechanically put on a smile. “Maybe it does. Let’s just say that my weekend roughly went as well as I thought it would. At least Olivia and I managed to get through it without killing each other.”

“You know you can talk to me about anything, right?” I offered.

Lyn said nothing for a few minutes as she looked far off. We walked towards her class building and once we got there, she kicked her foot against the concrete. God, she wasn’t even wearing those tattered Converse of hers.

“I’m fine. I’m just tired and processing some things,” she said quietly, her voice tight with emotion. “Honestly, even if I wanted to talk about things, I don’t even know where to start. Let’s just drop it for now, please?”

I nodded and a look of great relief crossed over her face. “Thanks, Ally,” she said, sounding a little more like herself.

“Just take care of yourself, okay?” I asked, reaching for her hand. “For me, please?”

Our hands curled around each other loosely. Lyn looked down at our hands, her face not showing anything, but there was a war playing out in her eyes. Something that I finally began to understand about Lyn was this: she was normally happy, but she didn’t let the negative emotions show often, instead opting to mask her feelings behind fake smiles and a bubbly tone. But there was only so much one person could take before they finally exploded. This next part was assumption, but I suspected that Lyn was nearing her breaking point, that her façade was cracking under the immense pressure she puts on herself. Whatever happened at home was pushing her to the limits of how much pain she was willing to take. I think I only understood the surface of how bad her home life was.

Finally, she nodded. Her face was still devoid of emotion, but there was a little twinkle in her eye. “I’ll try my best, you know?” she said, finally looking at me properly.

I could lose myself in those electric blue eyes, full of so much life and emotion normally. While it broke my heart to see her like this, I had a feeling that pushing her wasn’t the best move. I recalled how tightly she grasped my hand at the hospital when Olivia started pushing, how angry she got.

“As long as you try,” I whispered, my heart thudding rapidly against my ribs. Whether from my infatuation or the intensity of her stare, I was unsure. My eyes flickered to her lips.

Lyn’s eyes never once left mine before she finally let go of my hand. “I have to get to class,” she said quietly. I could see her mentally putting up her wall again, the light in her eye getting dimmer.

“Me too,” I replied. She looked like she was going to reach up but stopped herself. She settled for awkwardly waving before heading inside. I stood there for a couple of minutes before turning on my heel, heading to my class.

XXX

The wind was harsh tonight. I was wearing a sweater underneath my coat, and it was barely helping. I even had the hat Lyn gave me on, but my ears felt the biting cold. I walked across campus, heading towards Harper.

The amount of parties had died down some. There was barely anyone on campus right now, most of them either in their rooms or the library. Honestly, that was good for me. The less people around the better.

Suddenly I felt an intense pressure coming over me. The wind had stopped but the cold was still there. I looked around in confusion before sighing.

“Dahlia, is that you?”

Said ghost appeared beside me, looking rather interested in what I was doing. I was surprised to see her this far away from the tree.

“It’s been some time since we last spoke, Ally. I was curious as to what you were up to,” said Dahlia, clasping her hands behind her back as she walked beside me.

“I’m going over to talk to Amelia Turner,” I explained.

“Ah, intriguing. I do wonder what you are going to learn from her that you don’t already know,” Dahlia mused.

I said nothing in return, instead focusing on my mission. She wasn’t necessarily wrong in her judgement, but I didn’t want to give her the satisfaction of knowing that. I walked up to the doors, not surprised that they were locked. I chewed my upper lip as I attempted to work on the lock with a broken hair pin. They always made this look so easy on TV!

When I heard it click open, I suppressed an excited squeal. Good thing I did, because Dahlia drifted through the open door, where it was obvious that she was the one who unlocked it from the inside. I gave her a thankful nod, which she responded with a smirk. Together, we headed in.

The lights didn’t turn on automatically here like they do at the Athletic Centre. I pulled out an old school flashlight and turned it on. I could have easily used my phone, but I wanted it to available if I needed to take photos or make a call for help. It wasn’t that late, so Michael or Lyn hopefully would still be up.

I headed for classroom 223, the one Michael told me about. There she was, sitting at one of the desks looking forlorn. I slowly walked down to where she was, tapping the desk to get her attention.

“Hey, can I sit with you?” I asked, indicating the desk next to her.

Amelia looked a little surprised, tilting her head to the side. “Why are you even asking? I can’t stop you, even if I wanted to.”

“It’s only polite,” I said with a shrug.

Looking skeptical, she nodded. I sat down next to her, while Dahlia made herself at home in the seat behind us. She had a familiar look of determination in her eye, but I couldn’t quite place where I knew it from. Brushing that aside for now, I focused on Amelia. She was eyeing with me with suspicion, which I thought was curious. She was the one who wanted to talk to me, wasn’t she?

“I’m Ally,” I started with. “You’ve been talking to my friend, Mike, quite a bit, haven’t you?” I was careful to not use his full name.

“Only twice,” she clarified.

“Only twice,” I confirmed with a nod. “I wanted to ask you some questions, if that’s okay with you. I’m trying to solve all these murders on campus, and I have a feeling that you’re one of the victims from this unfortunate tragedy.”

Tears welled up in Amelia’s eyes as she nodded. “I am. I was in this very room when he came and killed me. I should have known something up when he invited me to speak with him so often.”

I reached over to her desk, placing my hand next to hers. “Amelia don’t blame yourself for the actions of the person who killed you. They’re a sick individual who hurt so many others. How could you have known?”

“He always was nice to me, making me feel special,” she said in quiet horror.

I took out my notebook, so I could quickly jot down the use of the male pronoun. The killer was male. It was a small thing, but in a case with very few leads, it was a big help.

“Would you mind showing me how it happened, Amelia?” I asked gently. I didn’t want to push her to tell me what happened if she didn’t want to. But I wanted to see it for myself, to see if I could pick up on anything. Unfortunately for me, seeing the death meant experiencing it through the lens of those who died, just like with Jamieson in the bookstore. I was fully prepared for it this time, however.

Amelia wrapped her arms around herself protectively. “It’s very gruesome, Ally. I’m not sure you should see it.”

I smiled encouragingly at her, despite my own nervousness pounding through my veins. “I’ll be okay. I want to help, honestly. Nothing you do will actually hurt me, okay?”

Finally, Amelia nodded. She reached over, placing her hand on my forehead. Although I was prepared for it, it was still shocking. I felt her confusion change into fear, fear into absolute panic. I felt the impact of my head smashing into the desk, momentarily dazing me. I felt the terror grip at my heart and lungs as I tried to get away from my attacker. I sobbed in terror as the knife slashed my wrists wide open. I hit the floor, blood pooling all around me. No one ever heard my screams. He stood over my, watching as the life drained out of my body without a single drop of emotion on his face. He looked familiar to me, but I couldn’t quite place the face right now. He bent down, cupping my face with his face, filling me with dread one last time before I died.

“Thank you for keeping me alive, darling.”

Those sickening words were the last thing I heard as everything turned to black.

Amelia withdrew her hand, and I gasped loudly as I slumped against my desk for support. My whole body was shaking, and I felt sick to my stomach. I pressed my hands against my eyes, not caring how wet they were. I needed to focus on my breathing. My wrists throbbed in agony, as if they were responding to how viciously they were cut. What a horrible way to go.

“Are you okay? I told you it was awful,” said Amelia sorrowfully.

I nodded, even though I felt far from okay. I took several huge gulps of air, sitting up straight. I adjusted my glasses, trying to focus on the fact that I was alive and not currently lying on the floor of the back room.

“She’s a lot stronger than she looks,” said Dahlia from behind. “She just needs a minute to gather herself.”

“T-t-that was so horrible,” I said through chattering teeth. “I-I-I’m so sorry y-you went through th-that, Amelia.”

Amelia nodded, her eyes mournful. “Do you really think you’ll be able to stop him from killing again?”

I grabbed a hold of Lyn’s hat, drawing a small sense of comfort from it. “I-I’m trying my best to make s-s-sure that it doesn’t happen again. I can’t m-make that promise, but I’ll be damned if I d-d-don’t give it m-my best shot.”

Amelia looked at me with a strange mix of wonderment and disbelief. Slowly, she nodded, looking towards the whiteboard again. She said nothing more, staring at something that the rest of us couldn’t see. I got up from my seat and thanked her for showing me what she did. On shaky legs, I walked towards the back door that led to the room where she was murdered. The door wasn’t locked when I tested the handle, and I numbly walked into the room.

It was just a storage room. There was nothing special in here that would ever suggest that someone was brutally murdered in here just over 15 years ago. I took it all in, snapping some photos in the process. There was nothing left for me to see here, so I closed the door behind with a firm tug.

I managed to make it outside before I threw up in the bush. I hacked and coughed, trying to get the disgusting taste of bile out of my mouth. Dahlia watched this all with mild curiosity, saying nothing as she twirled her hair around her finger.

“If you have something to say, say it,” I spat out, rubbing the back of my hand against my mouth.

Dahlia stopped mid-twirl, raising an eyebrow. “Someone is feeling a little testy.”

I whirled on her, my temper flaring. “Maybe because you seemingly know who did all these horrible things but won’t fucking tell me who it is! That was such a horrible way to die, and for the fact of the matter, so was Jamieson’s! Yet here you are, not telling me a damn thing!”

Mild irritation crossed over her delicate features. “Ally, I already told there was a reason why I couldn’t tell you everything. If you continue to behave this way, I won’t help you anymore. If you must know, the man who took all these poor lives is still on campus,” she snapped at me. “But that’s all I can speak on. Otherwise, something terrible will happen to me.”

Something terrible? I felt myself calming down a little. The look she had was annoyed, but I could see a tiny amount of fear in her eyes. Maybe she was telling the truth, there was something that was keeping her from telling me everything.

“Okay,” I dropped my shoulders. I was tired and feeling vulnerable. I didn’t want to fight, so I let it go.

Dahlia took me in for a second before she huffed out, “Good.”

I don’t know what it was about her tonight, but she was really reminding me of someone I knew. It was a strange feeling. Deciding that was a puzzle for another day, I shook my head and ran my hands through my hair, hating how sticky it felt despite the biting cold of the night.

I said goodnight to Dahlia, before heading to my room for the night. My phone told me it was after 11, which meant I was there for a few hours. I guess time flies by when you’re being murdered.

At least I learned two things tonight. First, the murderer was a man. Second, he was still here on campus. That second one really filled me with dread and fear. I didn’t know the identity of the killer yet, but I was more determined than ever to figure it out. Not for my own safety, but the safety of everyone at this school.

[thefanficmonster]

Never Satisfied [Chapter 4]

Corpse Husband x Original Female Character

Warnings: Language

A collaboration between Vy & Ashens 🖤

“there’ll be a next time...right?“

Corpse and Cora have found a nice secluded picnic table outside the restaurant, out in the sun rays’ path enough for the warmth of the day to be caressing their skin while simultaneously being a safe distance away from the other people enjoying their lunch. Their meal has just arrived, bringing a large grin to Cora’s face.

“So?” She asks as she chews the bite she took without waiting even thirty seconds. Her feet are on the bench, legs crossed, elbows rested on her knees as she chomps down, happily perched in front of him.

Corpse is enraptured by her. He’s staring a little, desperately trying to keep it subtle, hands still holding the small bag of food as he peers at her, a hood over his dark curls. Even in this quiet little part of town, he still doesn’t feel safe showing his whole face - no mask, no eyepatch, no privacy and sense of security. But as his eyes take in his lunch partner, her calm aura and leisure attitude, he can’t help but admit that his heart quickens a little. The girl moves with the grace of someone not afraid to kick ass and he is simply awestruck by her beauty and outward powerful aura. He’s never before been so captivated by a person - someone so different and so similar to him simultaneously.

Swallowing nervously, he reminds himself that she has taken on the role of his checkpoint, something like a friend, a hand to hold if he starts feeling anxious. Even if it’s just for today, he appreciates it wholeheartedly. It’s more than he’s ever been offered by others. That type of comfort is something he hasn’t felt in a long time. Surprising himself when his hand reaches out to touch her free one, he’s surprised yet again when he finds the touch so familiar and welcoming, so natural.  Despite it being just a brief movement, his knuckles softly brushing against her wrist before withdrawing and returning his focus to his meal, it is so meaningful and soothing, he’s afraid he might get used to it. Addicted to it. 

Half expecting a comment or a look, he is taken aback when she doesn’t give any sort of reaction. No movement, no expression change, just curiously watching him while she eats, waiting for his response to her previous dubious question.

 “So?” He rumbles softly, fishing out his lunch from the confines of the little paper bag. He isn’t sure what type of answer he should be expecting but he’s sure he won’t be disappointed regardless.

“Tell me about yourself! You’re not all rumbles, fear and BONES, right? You’ve gotta have a personality under that black hoodie.” She says enthusiastically, her eyes glimmering as though she’ll dig the answers out of him with her gaze alone. He’s not sure whether he’d prefer that or not. He doesn’t like talking about himself but he has an even stronger distaste for the idea of her seeing some information he’d rather keep hidden. Good thing she doesn’t seem to be capable of telepathy, but even that wouldn’t be too odd for her.

His cheeks flush faintly and he looks down for a moment to take the first bite of his food, buying himself some time to think and formulate a proper sentence. He racks his brain, looking for what would be the most vague yet satisfactory answer. 

What am I? I mean, all she stated is true, I definitely am all that...but I have a hard time coming up with what else I am? What else makes me me?  Youtube? Anxiety? Suicidal ideations hidden underneath liquor?

“I um...dropped out of school at, like, thirteen.” He finally speaks, mumbling around the small bite he worked on swallowing. 

Cora’s eyes widen and her brows shoot up. Now he is nervous, his anxiety slowly starting to creep in as he’s worrying if he has said something wrong. Or something that she could be disgusted by. 

Who would want to talk to some grown ass man who couldn’t even make it to highschool? How fucking sad is that? She has all right to judge me for it. 

However, unlike everybody else in his life who’s given him a frown of pity while internally thinking of how absolutely fucked up he had to be to drop out so young, Cora spared him from the pitiful glance he has grown to hate so much. Instead, he sees something alike amazement on her face as she sips her drink before saying:

“Damn dude, that’s intense. I mean, it sucks cause I can’t imagine you had a normal childhood if you’re bailing from school that young but, nowadays, who among us actually had a real childhood? Very few, I’d say.” She grins, putting down the soda can, her eyes leaving his for only the briefest of moments instead of the familiar awkward eye-contact avoidance he’d face when this topic would be nudged during a conversation. Still, the relief and skepticism in Corpse can never end their war so easily - there’s still that shred of doubt that she’s just good at hiding her pity or judgement. Nevertheless, she continues, “You’re doing well for yourself, you’re in an ok place right now, right? Isn’t that what matters?.” She concludes, touching his fingers as a form of yet another subtle reassurance. 

He looks down and finds himself ever so carefully curling one of his fingers around hers, just briefly before he draws back fearfully. “Yeah...guess having an apartment in a shitty part of town, and a car that seems to attract criminals could be considered ‘doing okay’.” He smiles faintly under his hood and she laughs, that bubbly little noise that he is slowly realizing he wants to hear more of. 

“You got a car, that’s more than I have.” Cora pokes her tongue out with a little growl before leaning down to take another bite of her lunch. “So, you like music and aren’t a narc. What else you got up your sleeve?”

Corpse smiles a bit and takes a sip of his drink before clearing his throat. “Yeah, I like video games too.” 

That seems innocent enough, right? Everyone likes video games...or people tend to be okay with them, at least. Video games are fun.

Another bright, sun-like smile. “Yeah? Well in that case I’ll have to kick your ass in Mario Kart some time.” She threatens playfully. 

So she might want to hang out, he thinks to himself, the thought causing his heart to do a little flip and he smiles an almost shy and timid smirk. “Challenge accepted.”

“What do you do for work?”

That question catches him off-guard, causing his eyes to widen a bit. He doesn’t know if it would be better to lie or just tell the truth. He narrates stories on the internet and makes and puts out music people have constantly been telling him wouldn’t be enjoyed. He doesn’t see how that would leave a bad taste in her mouth exactly but because of his inability to stop himself from overthinking he doesn’t want to run the risk of repulsing her. Then again, he doesn’t want to lie either, he’s been so honest with her thus far, why would he derail now and because of such a simple question. That’s why he chooses to answer truthfully but keep his answer relatively vague: “I do online work and make music I haven’t released yet. I honestly dunno if I ever will.” That last part felt like a harsh hit of reality coming on too suddenly, forcing him to look away from her to gather his composure and put it back together.

“I bet it’s good. You’ll have to let me hear it when you get something done. I’ve got a clearly refined taste in music, but I bet you already figured that out.” She exaggerates a wink, reaching over to wiggle the straw in her drink. 

Feeling a bit less tense now, he clears his throat and picks up the conversation once again. “What about you? You keep asking me all these questions, but all I know about you is that you’re a klepto with no car.” 

That signature bright and bubbly laughter leaves Cora’s chest, sending Corpse a millisecond away from swooning over her completely. “I’m actually a starving artist. I’m a pet photographer and I'm going back to school for advertising graphic design. When I’m not off goofing around with people getting their dogs birthday documented, I’m working at ye good ol’ Starbucks, serving all the...” Her voice lifts to a higher pitch and is now coming more from the back of her throat as she takes on the most preppy tone she could muster, “Beckys their venti mocha caramel frappuccino with TWO extra pumps of caramel, but with SOY because they’re all on a diet. Funny how that works, no? All those women with the exact same order and exact same attributes - I almost laugh whenever one of them walks in. You can smell them from a block away.” 

Corpse chokes out a laugh as he covers his mouth, hiding his half chewed bite from view. He definitely wasn’t expecting that. Then again,  he can’t help but acknowledge the warmth that has spread across his cheeks at how she giggles along with him. “And to be fair,” Cora quickly interrupts herself, “I am not a klepto, I just really liked the belt I found and thought forty five dollars was a rip off.” She smirks, finding herself absentmindedly looping her pinky with his. Corpse doesn’t look down, doesn’t comment, doesn’t want her to know he noticed, because maybe she’d put an end to their so small yet so meaningful contact. Instead, he smiles a little and swallows the last bite of his lunch, his heart beating rapidly in his chest and he briefly entertains the idea that he maybe wasn’t the only one awestruck. 

Anyhow, that thought gets pushed down real quick when he considers how absolutely out of his league she is, and how...well, how he’s in absolutely no league whatsoever. The world has done plenty to prove that to him real fast. Corpse sees himself as a nobody; he believes he doesn’t matter and everybody likes to remind him of it. But, as Cora’s pinky curls a little and one of her thumbs brushes against the arch of his wrist, all that bitter venom in his cold soul starts to slowly ease up, loosening its typically firm hold of his mind. Maybe, just maybe, one day, he would matter to someone. Someday.

@fockingwhore  @vixenl  @annshit  @wineandionysus  @wiseflamingoqueen

[cheseyre]

good news, sluts! my brain's no longer being completely stupid (only mostly), i've seen the new asides and...have some thought-y thot thoughts:

*deep inhale*

Okay, first things first: this art style is soooo fucking cUTE and I'm a jealous, squealing bitch. Anyone who knows who the artist is, could you link me to them, stat? I think Thomas mentioned them at the beginning of the ep, but nYeh, brain hurt, doesn't wanna do wooork-

Okay, I'll admit, I was a little...apprehensive when I first saw the thumbnail and title. Part of it's just me being a bitter Remus Stan, but also...okay, deep breaths, controversial opinion time, get ready:

I don't ship Prinxiety.

Like, at all. 

I can see the appeal, and these dorks were so very, VERY cute in this particular ep, but I was honestly turned off by the ship long ago due to how overwhelmingly popular it is and how some fans characterize these two and treat this relationship as if it's the only valid one, y'know, the works—slight tangent, but that's also why I don't ship Logicality or Remile. I honestly vibe much better with ships like Roceit or Analogical, y'know?

Cutting in for another brief tangent: I'm surprisingly okay with Demus/Dukeceit/Receit/Trashnoodle/Whatever-Their-Ship-Name-Is-Oh-God-Why-Do-They-Have-So-Many-Fucking-Names; maybe it's cause they haven't actually interacted in canon and the fan content gives me such good Gay Disney Villain content, idk man im weird—).

Still, their interactions were both hilarious and sweet and like I said, I see the appeal, it's just not my cup of tea. y'all Prinxiety fans got fucking FED and I'm happy for you nerds. Enjoy ze happy boys!

I guess another factor in my...low-key hesitance when I first saw what the ep was about is that...okay, get ready, another controversial opinion, le gasp: well, I'm not a big Virgil fan. In fact, at times, he swaps places with Patton as my least favorite sides—especially with some of his recent behavior in eps like DWIT (the "prohibit your breathing comment" really triggered me, for example). Sometimes, his attitude, especially around other sides like Roman or Janus, reminds me a little too much of my sister, who I don't have...a very good relationship with. Add to that how the more...intense side of the fandom has a disturbing tendency to turn him into the 'uwu precious woobie emo baby who can do no wrong' while unnecessarily villainizing other CERTAIN sides in the process, and...I think you all see where I'm going with this little rant 😅

However, upon actually watching the ep, he wasn't...that bad? I don't think? I enjoyed watching him be a flustered, disaster-y mess and genuinely excited at the end, his interactions with Roman were nice enough, and him literally pushing Thomas to make a move with Nico despite his obvious panic attack was a nice moment of genuine character development. I like seeing that, that's the good shit right there. And him being all flustered and shit, and smiling so much at the end of the vid was just...well, adorable. This man has no fucking right to be this cute, my god

alsoooo 

pURPLE EYESHADOW

PURPLE EYESHADOW HE LOOKS?? SO GOOD?? WTF?? SLAY EMO, SLAAAAAAAY FUCK, DOES THIS MEAN I HAVE TO CHANGE MY HALLOWEEN COSTUME NOW?

alsoooo 

hAPPY ROMAN

YESSSSS~ MAH BOI MAH SON MAH DUMB BITCH HIMBO PRINCE MAH EXTRA MESSY CINNAMON ROLL

ITS  BEEN SO  LONG

AND HIS LITTLE HEART EYES THROUGHOUT THE VID, OH MY GOD-

IMMA JUST IGNORE THAT "ADDING [MISTAKE] TO THE LIST" COMMENT I AM LOOKING AWAY I DO NOT SEE IT LALALALALA

THOMATHY, SIR, YOU HAVE NO RIGHT MAKING THESE TWO GAY IDIOTS SO BAEBY

Okay, but Virgil not realizing that "cyberstalking in real life" is literally just stalking is both a big ass mood and further proof that, yes, Logan is indeed the only one holding the braincell out of this disaster of a lot. God help them all if he ducks out in the next ep.

👀

And Thomas x Trash Can is my new OTP.  I dub thee ✨ "Trashmas" ✨

we sTAN TRASHMAS

Wait, does that mean Remus actually WAS in the ep? Cause, y'know, trash man?

hmmm

👀 👀 

Okay, okay. 

With how much Virgil and Roman were going off about Thomas constantly lying, I was (understandably) a tad bit disappointed my snek son didn't even make a fucking cameo, but y'know what? In hindsight, I'm okay with this it's fineee~

He was just off playing with shadow puppets and stealing money from us desperate, content-starved peasants with his sheer extra-ness and, honestly? Gotta respect the hustle. 

Get that precious, precious coin, dapper snake! Wring us poor losers dryyyy!

*evil snek laugh*

Also, this is a breather ep and adding Janus in probably would've caused unnecessary drama with the Roceit breakup and the constant antagonism between Virgil and him. It probably would've distracted from the point of the ep (flirting with social anxiety, exactly what it says in the tin)—much like it wasn't really Virgil or Remus's place to show up during POF. Does that make sense? I think it makes sense. Sorry, brain going brr-

Still, I can't believe the "Fuck Janus Sanders" Club is actually canon now 😂

God, first Patton in a skirt and now this. 

Thomas Sanders, you delight in fucking feEDING this gremlin nest of a fanbase, don’t you? You RELISH our screams of joy and pain and suffering, dON’T YOU?

What's next, actual canonical Janus and Remus interaction? Patton saying the fuck word? The Dragon Witch comes back? Janus's bowler hat gains sentience and takes over the world, Doris-style? What do you have planned, Thomas? Joan? WHAT ART THOU PLANNING, I MUST KNOW YOU HEATHENS YOU FIENDS-

And Virgil's little "would it be fair to him" comment, tho.

👀

Like, I get in the context of the ep, he was likely talking about Nico and how it wouldn’t be good for a potential relationship with Tomas to be founded on lies, but still...my anxceit heart aches, man. 

Gimme that sweet, sweet angst with a side of mutual regret and possible future reconciliation and maybe something more wink wink nudge nudge on top, pls

...and fries.

Honestly, tho, that entire bathroom monologue was fucking beautiful, man. And relatable, too—i can't tell you how many times I've talked to myself in public restrooms because I just didn't know how to get the words I wanted to say out. It's...kind of embarrassing, tbh

Speaking of embarrassing, uh, crying stall guy.

Just...

Crying Stall Guy

Like, I was expecting someone to come out the bathroom stall after Thomas stopped talking, but...I honestly wasn't expecting that. God, that whole scene was so cringe worthy and fucking hilarious

Honestly, Thomas in the ep in general was a huge ass mOOD and we collective gay/bi disasters ALL related with him, and if you say you don't, you're either lying to yourself or a demon. 

There is no in between 

sorry I don't make the rules

Like, I get this series is literally a gay disaster talking to himself for thirty minutes or longer, but like- EMPHASIS on the 'disaster' part 😂

Like...Thomas, you're lucky you're such a goddamn bean, because GOD, I cringing so hard when he first started talking to Nico

Although, I too have apologized profusely for genuine mistakes and am a flustered bi mess around my crush sooo

😅

And god, Roman's "thirty = old man" jokes made me feel old...and I literally just turned twenty, like, come on, man!

Maybe that's because I was literally watching this ep after finishing my ACT and had been sitting with a bunch of high schoolers, with their tiny fucking desks and tiny fucking water fountains smeh

*clears throat*

Anyways, uh, we STAN Nico Pintrovert Florés in this house

Like

He gives me such big Carlos from WTNV vibes for some reason and this makes me sooo happy

and YESS, he's a WRITER

And he's??? So sweet?? A pure bean?? Just sits on his laptop at the mall food court all day, like a god-fucking iCON?? A Nightmare Before Christmas fan?? weARS GLASSES??

my hEART

*cries*

The fandom seems torn between "Nicomas" and "Karrot Kings" as a ship name atm—personally speaking, I'm casting my vote for the latter

*crosses fingers* please dont be another janus x remus multiple ship name issue guys, please please please I can't keep track of them all-

*clears throat*

On that note, I'm guess I'm gonna go try and whoo over my crush with carrots now. If THIS disaster can do it and make it actually fucking work, god damnit, so cAN I

Meanwhile, in hell, my brain's just screaming "CANON LOVE INTEREST CANON LOVE INTEREST CANON LOVE INTEREST-"

God, I hope Nico isn't just a one-shot character, he's too pure and Thomas and him are adorable gay Disney fans and I stan

Oh, I wonder how the other sides'll react to him.

Wait.

Oh god.

Oh god.

This ep just unleashed a new fresh hell of potential Nico x Sides ships, hasn't it?

Welp, time to prepare for ze incoming flood of fanfics, I guess. I'll get my umbrella and rain boots.

That last shot of Virgil during the endcard was so fucking ominous oh my god mom im scared can you come pick me up-

Goddammit, Thomas and Joan, I'm NOT fucking ready to be traumatized again, fUCK

I wish I wasn't a broke ass university student so I could contribute to Thomas's gloriously extra Patreon—both so I can support my favorite content creators who make this amazing blessed content and also, to join my boi Janus in fucking  destroying society by giving money to the people who actually deserve it, fuck YOU GOVERNMENT-

Okay. 

Okay. 

New headcanon time as to why Patton, Remus, and Logan weren't in the ep: they were helping Jan film that Patreon promotional video. 

Like

Remus directed it, Logan helped with the lighting and script, and Patton was just there as the cheerleader. 

The reason Janus made a dog with shadow puppets wasn't just to flaunt his deity status and prove how he is truly above us mere wretched mortals 

despite that being the absolute truth and we all know it, don't lie to yourselves

No, it was really him trying to do something cute and silly for Patton, because Moceit rights, daMMIT

*inhales*

noww 

guys, gals, and nonbinary pals

it’s time forr

the most wonderful time of the yearrr

WAITING FOR THE NEXT EPISODE

Step right up, folks! Hear ye, hear ye, my prediction for the next episode: Prinxiety v. Moceit! With special guest stars: Karrot Kings vibing in adorable gay and Intrulogical, bitter at being excluded aGAIN

Who will win? Who will lose? 

here’s a hint: we all will because in this sick twisted game they are no winners only losers-

Place your bets, folks! ✨

Haha im not readyyy~

tl;dr

this episode has cleared my skin, watered my crops, and ended my suffering—an adorable calm before the... angsty fucking shitstorm that’s coming far too soon. Prinxiety stans, enjoy your food. Place an 'F' in the chat for me and my fellow grieving Remus stans. Trashmas is the true OTP, but Karrot Kings is cute too I guess. I've only had Nico Florés for 24 minutes, but if anything happens to him, I'll kill everyone in this room and then myself. Purple eyeshadow Virgil makes me question my sexuality aGAIN, and happy gay disney prince rights y'all. Say a big ole 'fuck you' to capitalism by giving your local dapper snake moneys. Concussion makes brain go brr and imma go buy some carrots and be gay now.

psst hey @quarantinevibes2020​ you wanna join me in being disaster-y? i’ll bring my best gay stare and you bring the wine

Until next time, my lovelies! ~ Ches 🖤

[bennydwight]

Bondmates- A FordxOC Oneshot

I’ve never put a story directly onto tumblr before, but I don’t feel right putting this on my fanfiction page until Dakota’s story is fully published, so I suppose I’ll just throw it into the ether here.

Bondmark: A distinguishing mark, feature, or otherwise occurrence for an individual hinting to the identity of their perfect match

~~~

Dakota is nearly twelve when her bondmark manifests; earlier than most, but not unheard of.

She wakes up one morning to see a stripe of swirling colour on the inside of her left wrist, a vortex of tangerine and bright purple, shifting in and out of intensity as the day progresses. She's so excited, and jitteringly nervous too, for some reason, running down to show her parents right away. They say after school they can celebrate!

She's just gotten home from school when the galaxy on her wrist washes deep, deep crimson, and she's hit by a wave of rage so thick and relentless that she's broken three plates before it ebbs. Her parents send her to bed, the celebration cut short.

In the days that follow, her wrist fades to a numb grey, and Dakota sinks into a bone-deep depression.

Her parents take her to see a therapist.

~

Twenty-five year old Stanford has accepted by now that his bondmark won't manifest.

Logic and studies show that ninety-nine percent of people receive their bondmark before their twentieth birthday, and less than 0.01 of the remaining one percent go through life without their bondmark ever making an appearance. Ford makes peace with that, just another way he's a freak. An outsider.

During a class on calculus, a song gets stuck in Ford's head. It sticks around for hours and all attempts to drown it out are futile.

It takes a week for Ford to realize that the voice in his head isn't one he's ever heard before.

~

Dakota knows two things about her bondmate:

One - They're emotionally connected somehow.

The colours on her wrist are quickly identified to reflect the feelings of her bondmate, different colours representing different emotions. If he (she assumes it's a he) feels something strongly enough, Dakota will feel it too. She starts to differentiate which are her emotions are which are his by the taste: hers are tasteless, but his leave a sour taste in the back of her throat, like she'd just drank milk.

Her therapist offers a coping solution during her first sessions. Art or music, something to make her happy when his negativity threatens to overwhelm her. She chooses singing.

She's twenty when he starts to respond.

Two - He's slightly stunted, in her opinion.

His deep emotion affects her in a way, but he ever since those first few weeks, he hasn't felt anything deeply at all. But she develops a habit of keeping an eye on the colours shifting on her wrist and singing to match them. In his sadness, she sings brightly, and the cloudy blue on her skin lightens to a more cheery eggshell. When he's anxious, she learns slow, ancient songs in odd languages. In his anger, she sings soothing melodies from her childhood.

She hopes it's because they're a bondmatch, and her mood influences him as well.

~

Ford knows two things about his bondmate:

One - They're emotionally connected somehow.

He realizes within a week that she knows what he's thinking to some degree. Her songs change to equal or balance what thoughts weigh in his head. During his exams, she sings almost exclusively in Latin, which spurns a desire to learn the language so he knows what she's saying.

He sings back once, his name and age in a simple melody, to see if they are a bondmatch, but she doesn't respond. That's alright, he tells himself, bondmatches happen once in every five hundred thousand. He's just happy to have a bond at all.

Two - She's an alto.

If her screechy attempts at a high C are any indicator. Fiddleford gets very concerned one day after he right near jumps out of his skin at the murderous scream resounding through his skull.

His initial annoyance vanishes under the next line, as she sings about how awful that note was to the original tune of the song.

He smiles for real for the first time in what seems like forever.

Fiddleford gives him an odd look, but doesn't press further, and Ford is grateful for it.

~

Dakota's bondmate is more frustrated than normal today.

The mark on her wrist has been a steady, dulled burgundy all morning, and the back of her mouth stings under the sour taste of his emotion.

She tries singing something to cheer herself up, a German celebratory song with a catchy chorus.

The taste in her mouth intensifies, and her mark is shot through with an angrier, burnt rust as his frustration turns to outright irritation.

She stops singing. It's not making her feel better anyway.

~

Ford can't concentrate.

This quantum mechanics test has been the hardest he's ever encountered thus far, and he pulled an all-nighter to study. Sleepless, running on coffee, and nerves about the test are bad enough.

Halfway through question three, his bondmate starts singing something raucous.

On any other day, Ford might meet the cheerful tune with a smile, but he's trying to focus. The moment he's sure he'll have an outburst if she continues any longer, she stops.

The test is over in an hour, but she doesn't sing again for the rest of the day.

~

Dakota is finding more and more recently that her bondmate is keeping odd hours.

She wakes up at three AM to find her wrist vibrating in swirls of thrilled lemon and inspired peach. His anticipation is tangible. What's got him so excited so late?

She sings softly, trying to lift her own spirits, but she can't stop the unwelcome thought. What if someone else is making him so excited so late?

The notes are cheerful, but the words are melancholy.

~

Ford glances up from the chess board as lilting notes drift across his mindscape in an odd, echoing quality. His partner notices his grin, gaze shifting upwards to follow Ford's, though the song seems to emanate from the very essence of the vast expanse of Ford's mind. "What's that?"

"My bondmate." Ford is pleased she's up so late, his friend has never yet gotten the pleasure of hearing one of her songs. She's picked a good one, and it serves to lift Ford's already bright mood.

"Oh yeah, that old ritual." Bill moves his pawn. "Seems a little distracting, don't you think?"

Ford looks to the 'sky', his smile fading. Maybe it is...

~

Dakota hasn't slept well in months.

What started as a few odd days, wrist fading to colours she's never seen him experience, turns into weeks of deepening anxiety, marked by tangerine spots so intense they're almost white, and an ugly charcoal gray. She gets twitchy and restless, like there's something she should be doing. The taste of his emotion starts small, but eventually she can't stand most food for the sour taste in her mouth.

She knows these feelings aren't hers, but it doesn't make falling asleep any easier.

She sings herself French lullabies, but they don't help her much.

~

Ford has to find a way to stop him.

Ford doesn't have a way to stop him.

Ford can't fall asleep until he finds a way to stop him!

His bondmate has other ideas. Her soft voice cuts through the mess of paranoia and fear in his brain, stilling his thoughts. No! He can't stop! No matter how tired his eyes are, or how comforting her voice is...

Ford falls asleep to foreign lullabies -

"Well, what do you know! Your better half is good for something after all!"

- And wakes up to three fractured ribs and forearms scored with hundreds of leaking cuts.

~

Dakota is at a conference when she first feels it.

The first surge of terror is brushed off, she's used to it by now, though she does still worry about her bondmate. But the anger that follows, so blood red it practically glows, prompts her to leave the conference hall and seek a secluded corner where the chances of her breaking something reduced drastically. He hasn't been healthy for a long time, but this time it's different.

Something is wrong.

She stares at her wrist, in its pulsing reds, and downs the rest of her champagne to try to rid herself of his sour taste. It's all she can do to stand there and feel.

Something sparks on the stripe of colour, a tiny burst of the darkest gray she'd ever seen. Rapidly, the gray overcomes the blood, and Dakota is struck by a panic that reverberates to the very core of her being.

Something is wrong!

It's brief, but the sheer scope makes it seem like the shock is drawn out forever.

Then, nothing.

It's as if the air conditioner has been shut off, and you find yourself in a house that's deafeningly silent. A constant, gentle stream of emotion Dakota has felt since she was eleven ebbed in an instant. She feels some horrific being has reached down her throat and yanked out her very core, leaving her nothing but a hollow shell.

Her boss finds her some time later, in the fetal position against the wall.

Somewhere, somehow, she registers the stripe on her wrist has gone completely black.

~

Ford doesn't have much time to think the moment he enters the nightmare realm. Survival takes precedence.

He's occupied for the next standard week trying to devise a way to defeat Bill.

It takes him a month before he has enough downtime to realize he hasn't heard singing once since he became trapped.

It takes him another three years to come to terms with the fact that he'll never hear her again.

He wants so badly to quietly break down somewhere. If Bill finds him, so be it. But he quashes the impulse. He has work to do.

~

Dakota doesn't sing for years after her bond dies.

She started singing to cope with his feelings, and now there's no reason to.

~

Ford turns and leaves without a word.

The hospitable Urarians are confused. Why would the best choir on the planet cause their guest to react this way?

~

Thirty years pass.

Dakota is humming tunelessly as she cooks bacon, but her breath stops as her chest explodes in anger.

The force causes her to stumble, grasping the counter for balance. Saliva gathers in her mouth to combat the sudden sour sensation. She can barely breathe for the rage, eyesight going blurry.

And then she can't breathe for the tears.

Because the stripe on her wrist is glaring blessed crimson.

~

Thirty years and a day pass.

Ford lays down on the couch, arm covering his eyes. He's back. He's back.

Somewhere, a song comes on, and Ford is just about to shout at Stanley to turn the radio down when his chest constricts.

The voice is in his head.

After thirty years of silence, he can no longer contain his sobs, but his grief pales in comparison to his pure relief.

She's back. She's back.

~

Dakota lowers her hand. "My wrist changes colours with what he's feeling."

They peer closely at the gentle pink etched onto her skin, just a shade grayer than her usual complexion. She smiles at their interest. Neither of the twins have their bondmark yet, and Mabel was practically bursting with excitement at meeting someone whose mark was physical. She'd asked to see it nearly as soon as Dakota sat down. Bondmarks are precious to some people, but Dakota has never been shy about sharing hers.

"How do you know what he's feeling?" Dipper asked, one hand on his chin. So much like his great uncle.

"Lots of practice," she answers. "This pink colour shows up when he's generally content. And see this?" She points to an olive streak slowly circling the perimeter of the mark. "He's a little under the weather right now, but it's small enough that it's only at the back of his mind and doesn't bother him much."

"And you can feel him, too?" Mabel asks, her grin like the sun.

Dakota laughs at her enthusiasm. "Only sometimes."

Dipper and Mabel perk up for a second, eyes darting deeper into the Mystery Shack, but Dakota is distracted. "Ah! See that?" The twins turn back just in time to see the blood orange starburst fade back into dusty pink. "He just got annoyed at something. But now he's okay again."

The twins make joined impressed sounds. Dipper looks at her with those huge doe-eyes of his. "It must have taken a long time to learn everything he's feeling."

"It did. But he's worth it."

~

Ford catches the sneeze in one fist, but it jerks the rest of his body enough to startle Mable. She turns from where she sits on the floor, knitting in her lap and back pressed against Ford's shins, and gives him a look. "Are you getting sick, Grunkle Ford?"

He sniffles. As much as he hates to admit it, but he can't lie to that face. "Maybe a little. But it's not too bad. I hardly notice it."

The frantic pen scratching on Ford's right stills. "Would you say you're a little under the weather, but it's small enough that it's only at the back of your mind?"

Dipper's words elicit a little gasp from Mabel, and he looks back and forth between the twins, blinking in confusion. Dipper stares back with a raised eyebrow, and if Mabel smiles any wider her head will split in half.

"Er, yes, that's a concise way of putting it. Why?"

Dipper goes back to scribbling in his journal, but a ghost of a smile haunts his face now. "No reason."

Ford looks to Mabel. She's turned back to the tv, but there's an excited pull to her shoulders. In a brief moment between commercials, when the screen goes dark, Ford catches her reflection and her grin has not faltered one bit.

~

Dakota can hardly breathe for the claws wrapped around her waist, trapping her arms against her chest. She tries to stay calm. Wild animals could sense panic, and she's no troll expert, but she didn't doubt the hulking beast could sense something from her. The stripe on her wrist swirls charcoal, a colour she's barely seen since the incident thirty years prior, and she wonders if her own fear is feeding back to her bondmate.

She whispers a silent apology to him, wherever he may be.

The troll opens its mouth to drop her inside, but Ford bursts from behind a stalagmite, blaster raised. "Let her go, you hairy heathen!"

She can feel the resonating determination pulse through her chest, and by chance she glances at her wrist again. The charcoal ripples outwards, arcing through with rings of rich wine. Ford fires once, twice, at the beast, and Dakota is so transfixed by the spreading wine colour that she doesn't feel herself falling until she's hit the ground.

The troll retreats, whining, and Ford makes sure it's gone before rushing to her side, hands hovering over her. Never actually touching her. "Are you alright? Is anything hurt?"

She can't answer. Can't do anything other than stare at her wrist. The stripe is shot through with mist and gold.

"Dakota, answer me!"

She says she's fine, smiling to reassure him, but she can't ignore the rapid beat of her heart. When he verifies her safety for himself, she asks. "Ford, what are you feeling right now?"

Though initially taken aback, Ford recovers quickly with a soft smile. "Relieved."

The gentle lavender on her skin proves it.

~

Ford has a lot of catching up to do in terms of music, and Dakota seems to be the right person to help with that, but he finds himself bashful when she asks his favourite songs since so many of them are out of date.

They spend an afternoon not monster hunting, as usual, but sitting in his parlour with a laptop, taking turns showing each other songs. He feels a little better with his music choice after Dakota reveals her own odd tastes in foreign music.

He feels like he's heard some of them before.

~

Dakota stares at the gentle pattern of dusty pink and brighter rose on the inside of her wrist. She's found her bondmate, she thinks. But he hasn't given one clue as to whether she's his too. Or not. Or even if he has a bondmark. It's an unspoken rule that one doesn't ask about another's bondmark unless the information is supplied willingly, and Dakota hates the thought of relinquishing her budding relationship with Ford because she's impulsive. He might not even have a bondmark.

If he doesn't, that's fine.

She doesn't want to think about the other option.

~

Ford settles into bed with a happy sigh, ready for the evening end. It has been an increasingly delightful part of his day, as he finds his bondmate has been singing some of his favourites every night. He wonders if she has a connection to his music too, or if it's just a common interest. Either way, being lulled to sleep by those songs has become something to look forward to, and it's been a consistent concerto every night for nearly two weeks.

He shifts under the covers, closing his eyes.

But sleep doesn't come.

Because neither does her singing.

~

Dakota is hyperaware of Ford's presence next to hers as the Pines family (plus her, plus Mabel's friends, plus the handyman and the cashier) participates in their weekly movie night. She can't concentrate on the movie, too focused on her wrist and the uneven pulses of navy blue and slate.

She leans over and whispers, "Ford, what are you feeling right now?"

He thinks about it for a moment before answering.

She wonders why he's lying.

~

Ford can't concentrate on the movie.

Another week without a peep from his bondmate has sent him into a deep-seated worry. Has something happened? Is she okay? Not knowing is driving him to madness.

When Dakota leans over and whispers the query, he doesn't question it. She's been asking it periodically for a few weeks now, and he's chalked it up to nothing more than a new habit. She's staring at him with an expression he can't place, rubbing one thumb up and down the stripe of colour on her wrist. It seems active, but Ford can't tell what colours burst forth from her skin in this light.

He's often wondered at her bondmate. He doesn't know what the colours represent, but he knows they're very important to her. He's caught her staring steadfastedly at her wrist for minutes at a time, but hasn't asked. She may just not have found hers yet. Or, a more unpleasant possibility, she might be harbouring a dead bond.

His time in the portal flows back to him. He wouldn't wish a dead bond on anyone.

But he can't assume, so best to keep away from touchy subjects. He gives her the best smile he can muster. "Happy and content."

Her face makes him regret lying.

~

Dakota can find only one explanation for this.

The unthinkable has happened, and her bondmark is unrequited.

It's rare, rarer even than bondmatches, but occasionally a person manifests a bondmark towards a person who does not reciprocate. It's awful, its psychologically damaging, but Dakota has lasted this long without her bondmate and she can continue doing so. She's lucky enough to know him well as a friend, and cares about him enough not to bring up the fact of her bondmark, and if he finds happiness in the end isn't that all a bondmate could ask for?

She convinces herself of this, convinces herself she feels better, but not even every song in the world could make her feel better. So she doesn't try.

~

Ford is so distracted by his mounting worry that he doesn't even realize it's raining until his glasses are coated in fat, wet drops.

Next to him, Dakota shrieks, though he thinks it may be in delight. He's glad. There was a period of time where they barely saw each other, and when they did, Dakota seemed more subdued than normal. But whatever is plaguing her seems to be wearing off, and he's immensely glad. He's missed his friend.

Just like he misses his bondmate.

She hasn't sung to him in over a week. There have been silences before, but never this... heavy.

He and Dakota rush into the Mystery Shack, sopping wet and laughing, though Ford worries his sounds slightly flat. If Dakota notices it, she doesn't mention it.

She tosses her camera bag on the table, then heads upstairs to shower off the downpour. Ford smiles until she vanishes, then lets it drop. He likes Dakota, but not even her company in monster hunting can replace the comfort he never realized he got from his bondmate's songs.  

Dakota starts singing from upstairs, and Ford frowns. Slaps the side of his head with one hand, metal plate giving a dull clang as he does. It sounds like he's hearing two slightly different variations on the same song. Is he picking up interference...?

His heart stops.

No.

But yes.

He's in the Mystery Shack gift shop before he can realize his legs are moving, out of earshot from the upstairs shower. He knows the song that's being sung, knows where in the verse Dakota should be, matching up perfectly to the version he hears in his head.

It matches.

His legs are moving again, thudding rapidly up the stairs to pound on the bathroom door. He feels like he's going to laugh, or cry, or throw up.

Dakota opens the door in her shorts and tank top, still drenched in rainwater, the steam from the shower rising up and framing her like an angel walking out of heaven's clouds. Her left arm rests on the door, giving Ford a perfect view of the churning colours on her skin.

It looks exactly how Ford feels.

 END

[hillnerd]

ptsd/c-ptsd,  therapy & writing

(This is written by someone with CPTSD - I am not a mental health expert, and am just writing from my own experience! )

So a lot of writers want to incorporate PTSD and C-PTSD into their fiction. Sometimes people get it super right- other times I’m left cringing. I wrote this to help writers know more about it, then it also ended up being something I sent to a friend with PTSD as it got into it so she’d know more what the therapy process is like. 

So! What’s it like to have PTSD? PTSD therapy vs regular therapy-How are they different? How are they the same? What does PTSD therapy consist of?

Trigger warning:

I will be describing therapy, talk of other disorders like anxiety and depression, and might use some 'you' talk - example 'once you've gone through this, then you start to feel better.' This will also skim over child abuse, suicidal ideation mentions and trauma in general- Read w/ caution if you are sensitive to this

general overview to PTSD and C-PTSD

I am diagnosed with PTSD, but it's actually C-PTSD*

C-PTSD or Complex Post Traumatic Stress Disorder differs from PTSD in that it's more for people who have had chronic environments of trauma/abuse for years - and is currently proposed to have a certain symptoms not listed under PTSD symptoms. 

Much of these symptoms have more to do with how one relates to other people, their self perception, and generally their learned behaviors in order to protect themselves long-term. PTSD is more about a specific event, of series of events that occurred in quick succession.

Despite the lack of official diagnosis, therapists treat people for CPTSD all the time- they just use a lot of the same tools they would for PTSD.

Not everyone who experiences trauma or battles develops PTSD, but there are factors that make you more inclined to develop it.

What is PTSD like?

There are many ways that people manifest PTSD/CPTSD symptoms.They are easy enough to google and be familiar with, but what's it ACTUALLY like for me.

a hair-trigger startle instinct I have had a few times where my husband is up at night, and I didn’t realize he was in the room- then I see the outline and start screaming- and can’t stop for like 2 minutes- then the crying settles in for 30 minutes. My traumas had nothing to do with strangers in the night. I just have a super intense startle instinct that sends my whole body into panic mode sometimes.

Hyper-vigilance- trying to control everything around you to keep you safe, and being super on edge keeping an eye out for how things will fall apart. Making sure things are locked, being extra wary of people, wanting to not have your back to people, perking up at every little noise etc.

issues sleeping- insomnia, light sleeping, & nightmares-   Sometimes reliving a memory, or just having intense dreams that leave you exhausted the next day you can barely function. This ties in with hyper-vigilance a lot- so falling asleep and staying asleep can be hard.

Depression and anxiety- pretty self explanatory- but it's common to experience these, and for pills to not necessarily be that helpful without the therapy. Sometimes anxious self destructive thoughts and memories start haunting you and making you freeze up or panic, feel like you’re going to die/be left alone by everyone etc. Sometimes emotional abuse from your past starts coming up and haunting you and you feel all your selfworth leaving your body leaving behind nothing but the want to sleep all day/cut yourself off from people - at times this can turn to suicidal ideation and other really dangerous behaviors and thoughts.

Sudden mood switches/panic responses usually a trigger for these switches is something associated with your trauma- but basically when something associated with our trauma suddenly comes up sometimes it causes us to start having feelings and emotions that feel out of whack for the situation at hand. 

Example: When I was a five I was beaten and locked on a sunny porch of a 2 story building with a sliding door.  Once my husband blocked me on the way to the door so I wouldn’t accidentally walk into some freshly painted furniture on the other side of the sliding door. I immediately panicked and angrily screamed at him to’ let me GO! fuck you!!! when he’s the gentlest man in the world and has never ever been anything but kind and wonderful with me. Then after the rage wore off I was like crying and so sorry.

I’m usually not an ‘angry reaction’ person- I’m usually a freeze/cry type- but yeah.Sometime people get panicked in crowded places, or if they feel someone is mad at them, or if they feel trapped, or if they feel like they’re being abandoned.

Sometimes I’ll get super manic and impatient/snappish if there’s not a plan on what we’re doing at a crowded place (really it’s because I want an escape plan/safe place I know we can always go to- and feel vulnerable when it’s a lot of people standing around without a plan and feel like I’ll get lost/abducted)

intrusive negative thoughts 

It’ll be the darkest weirdest repeating thoughts that you associate with emotional upset.  In ptsd treatment there is a lot of going through the events and rethinking your conclusions you’ve taken away from them. It’s simplified a lot in shows to a simple ‘it’s not your fault’- which, yeah, that’s the crux of it- but the actual work of it is super intense, exhausting, and so much more in depth.  

unhealthy coping mechanisms so a lot of people with ptsd will find ways to cope to help them fill an emotional void, or to cover up feelings etc. There are tons of ways people do this. Some will do extreme things like drugs, risky behaviors, drinking a lot etc Example: They experience a ‘violent retraumatizing’ moment like a pet getting killed in front of them- then later to cope have casual sex and drink too much in order to numb their emotions and not think about them.

A lot of ‘avoidance’ and ‘overdependence’ can be a part of ptsd. Like you might avoid certain things like the plague, or constrastingly might start using people or things or substances or food like an emotional crutch/security blanket instead of coping in a healthier way or learning to be independent.

Self protective steps you take might be super over the top, or self-destructive and borderline suicidal. 

Sometimes trying to repress all your emotions and not express them is something you do to protect yourself. 

This can be all over the map really- there are hundreds of examples!

triggering moments of your ‘Stuck points’

Stuck points are thoughts that keep us from recovering. Stuck points are concise statements that reflect a thought – not a feeling, behavior, or event. 

Example of stuck points:  'If I let other people get close to me, I'll get hurt again', 'I am useless.' 'I'm broken', 'I can't trust anyone in authority', 'People will reject me if they get to know me/see me at my worst’ ‘I’m a monster.’ ‘I’m worthless’ 

These can come up and you won’t even realize it at first. You’ll have something super innocuous happen and all of a sudden you’re on the verge of a breakdown, angry and/or panicking for seemingly no reason. 

These intense emotions will hit you and don’t feel like there’s any thoughts connected to them- there ARE thoughts behind it of course, but it takes a bit of deconstructing to figure it out though and realize ‘ooooh, there’s the thought train that was bubbling under the surface! I didn’t realize because thinking through my emotional processes was something I wasn’t allowed to do during my trauma- so now I don’t know how to instinctively do that even a little.’

Examples in fiction 

Harry Potter in Order of the Phoenix where he is yelling at the drop of a hat when he feels abandoned/rejected by everyone. His reactions are so CLEARLY PTSD related to me.  Actually, I think he has CPTSD and it just got to a tipping point due to the traumas he experienced in the graveyard.

Hunger Games Books  Probably the best portrayal of PTSD, of books I’ve read, is Hunger Games. The movies glazed over it a bit- but the books? Oh man, they nail it so hard.

HP and Hunger Games both have protagonists who are great portrayals of ptsd. The anger, the disassociation, the depression, the nightmares, the inability to identify with humans at times, the self protective steps that are unhealthy, the coping mechanism of avoidance etc.

Disassociating

People describe this in tons of different ways, but personally I think of it like body/brain numbness. All of a sudden it’s like a blankness comes over you, almost like that hazy way of daydreaming, only instead of daydreams it’s nothing but a buzzing blankness with maybe like slight almost invisible undercurrent of panic. It’s like the body is paralyzed, and you can’t act or think or do anything but stare or numbly move a bit- it almost feels like your soul just left your body for a bit and you’ve been consumed by a white room of emptiness. Not a black void- it’s not being lost in darkness- it’s like being lost in the light, if that makes sense? Like think of a blank why void like in The Matrix where the whiteness goes on forever. 

Flashbacks

In tv shows they often show it like it's a hallucination or something. Flashbacks are typically shown as a person basically becoming delirious and having visual and audio hallucinations, then perhaps even becoming violent to those around them because they literally see something different than what is real.

Again, this is my experience- but flashbacks have never worked like that for me. I more disassociate, and then all the emotions of that memory hit me, and in my brain I’m able to see bits and pieces of what happened back then, or even the whole thing- it’s like a SUPER intense memory/daydream/nightmare just settles in there for a bit- and you feel all the full emotions of it for a bit- can suddenly feel the sensations of it too at times-but at NO point am I actively moving about in a real room around people getting them confused with the past and lashing out at the hallucinations.

 I’m just sitting there, or crying there- and if someone in the room with me were to talk to me they might have to get my attention because I'm deep in that daydream/flashback- but I’d hear them and see them once I realize I’m spacing out. The most outburst I’d have would be to not want anyone to touch me- or get super startled from someone touching me then pushing them away from me. That’s very different than the crazy shit they show on TV and movies sometimes.

BAD EXAMPLE: One particular one that still makes me mad is when that had Owen from Grey’s Anatomy sees a fan- then get ‘triggered into a ptsd episode’ where he is unblinkingly choking out Cristina as she begs him to stop for a long time. Like…. It’s one thing for someone to be startled and have their instinct be to strike out- that’s a very different thing from what they portrayed. If they wanted to show him as ptsd dangerous- which is worrisome to me as people with mental health are stigmatized enough- but if they wanted to- it would have made much more sense for her to startle him somehow and for him to just blindly strike out before he realizes it. With combat training, he could very well have instincts that aren’t safe when he’s over sensitized and startled.

What are the main treatments for PTSD?

Cognitive Processing Therapy  (CPT)

CPT is the main treatment for PTSD. It is highly structured, and the majority of it is writing and worksheets. There is a LOT of writing and talking out about your trauma, writing and talking about how you process it, and analyzing it.

Beyond the traumatic memories, there is also noticing the behaviors you have that are related to your trauma and how they come out in every day scenarios. This leads to:

Cognitive Behavioral Therapy (CBT)

This is not about processing past events, but about processing current behaviors/reactions and trying to slowly change those behaviors over time so that they are healthier reactions/coping mechanism in place.

Exposure therapy- Reliving memories

For PTSD some people do a lot of reliving the trauma memories by describing them in detail, every tiny detail they can think of- and basically reliving them, but then trying to reroute the emotional response to them. 

Some people are SO repressed that this is a very difficult thing for them to access- both remembering the memory, but also knowing what their emotions were/are. These memories of trauma aren't always easy to remember/re-feel/access and that can be frustrating.

I personally am REALLY GOOD at reliving memories- in fact I'm so good that we have been avoiding it for a bit because i go straight into flashback mode way too easy (more on flashbacks and how they work later)

There are ways of doing this that are more than just revising the memory through talk therapy, that I haven't done and would require research on your part:

virtual reality to revisit the place

watching videos or listening to recordings of the event and talking it through

exposure therapy that's more about getting used to sounds/smells/words that are triggering

The main point though is to process the emotions tied to that event and not make your brain default to that flight/fight/freeze mode when triggering things happen.

IMPORTANT TOOLS FOR THERAPY

If a person hasn't had much therapy, CPT/CBT has a lot of learning for that person, and a LOT of trying to identify emotions and really feel them, so one can process them.

Grounding techniques/exercises-

techniques used to sooth/calm a person when activated- there are like thousands of these guys out there- I think everyone is a bit familiar with them- like breathing exercises in yoga? Basically it's a way of regrouping and centering yourself- 'grounding' you in reality, instead of letting your brain go off on a tangent/emotional rollercoaster.

It's basically any way you can snap your thinking out of your anxious thoughts and concentrate on something until your re-calibrate and are calmer.

Personally the breathing techniques make me freak out- so I don't use those. :P Ones I find helpful are ones like 'Name every color you can see.' or 'go through the alphabet and letter by letter name an animal that starts with that letter.' and 'hold an ice cube in your hand and concentrate fully on every sensation you're feeling.'example  example

-CBT and CPT WORKSHEETS

god, SO many worksheets.

Here are some helpful links

https://positivepsychologyprogram.com/cbt-cognitive-behavioral-therapy-techniques-worksheets/  --- This page covers cognitive distortions really well, and has some helpful resources and worksheets.

https://trailstowellness.org/resources   This page has a lot of great worksheets for trauma.

https://www.psychologytools.com/professional/problems/post-traumatic-stress-disorder-ptsd/- unfortunately you cannot access the documents here without paying- BUT you can read what the docs are, and how they will be used in a therapy setting- so can use that as a launch point for what sort of worksheets/phrases to google.

I specifically worked from  Cognitive Processing Therapy for PTSD: A Comprehensive Manual a lot.

What is the structure of PTSD therapy?

First session

The first thing I had to do was fill out a questionnaire (PTSD test , cptsd questionnaire) to make sure she thought the treatment was appropriate. We talked about this a bit, what symptoms I had, talked over examples of it. I'm comfortable with therapy so this wasn't so bad for me, but I can see this being very difficult for people who aren't as comfortable in this setting and would need to be walked through it more and have more questions as they might not have a lot of self-awareness. We discussed goals, what could be achieved, and generally what it would be like. We went over the first worksheet and I was given homework of figuring out what my stuck points are.

Sessions after that

Each session we begin with typical therapy for a bit 'how was the last week? Were there any events I should know about?' Then we go over the worksheet I filled out, and analyze it, talk about examples, or apply it to trauma memories.

What is trauma therapy LIKE?

I always try to have the next day or so as free as possible after therapy, because afterwards I am wiped out, exhausted, and sometimes super triggered and crying afterwards.

The analogy I like to use is cleaning out a closet you keep hoarding stuff in:

Your house is your life, your brain is a closet, and PTSD/trauma is a messy hoarders type hidden away in the closet. When the door to this closet is closed you can almost pretend there isn't a mess there at all. Y ou close the door by being in denial, not thinking about your trauma, not acknowledging or processing it. You just keep stuffing the trauma into the closet.

But the longer you let the closet stay like that, the worse the situation gets. Soon that closet door keeps busting open and all sorts of crap falls out when you don't want it to. Freakouts, hypervigilance, meltdowns etc. The crap in the closet starts to multiply.

Ever seen Hoarders or Marie Kondo? You know how people are crying over t-shirts and crap and the house looks WORSE for a while? That's trauma therapy.

In therapy you have to open the closet door, take out ALL the crap you've been hoarding in the closet, process it, organize it, and then put things in order again. Every single box of trauma needs to be looked at then put away- The goal is to  throw out the intense intrusive emotions tied to the junk. You have to keep your memories- but you don't have to keep holding on to the behaviors they've formed, the turbulent emotions, and the intensity of it all. During therapy at first it's fine. Kondo is walking you through it and it's all just fine and dandy- then you are faced with this HOARD of CRAP you have to work through- and it's SO overwhelming. My anxiety and depression got way worse for a while. Like, I was on EDGE and having nightmares and it was horrible. But then once you've processed the memories, and start actively applying what you've learned and start using grounding techniques more and more- things do get easier.

I am not fixed. I am not cured. I will have to continue to work through stuff- It's that whole 'healing is a not a straight line' thing. Like, there are times I regress and I hate it. :P But it's gotten a lot better.

IF YOU GUYS HAVE ANY QUESTIONS ABOUT THIS I’M HAPPY TO HELP.

I figure this can be an ok resource for people who don’t know much about ptsd except what it says on like webmd (which isn’t that accessible to me) and want to write about it (or want to just know more about it)

( *C-PTSD has not been considered an official different disorder from PTSD for all that long. In fact, one technically can't be medically diagnosed with CPTSD in america yet. PTSD is diagnosable and has been considered an official disorder for decades, but C-PTSD has not been named a disorder of its own yet in the official guidebook of psychological disorders in the US (DSM). I think they might have JUST recognized it in the UK guidebook (ICD). I know it was proposed for the 11th addition.)

[onthevirgeofdestruction]

Dreaming While I Wake

Sanders Sides Foster Care AU - Roman-centric Angst & Hurt/Comfort & Abuse Recovery

Roman tries to be upbeat and hopeful despite all the shit that’s happened to him. And a lot of shit has. Luckily, his new foster home is with two literal rays of sunshine (and a sarcastic asshole).

Words: 3,695 Warnings: Food, Food issues, Injury, Money Issues, Panic, Anxiety, Depression Characters: Roman, Thomas, Virgil Universe: Dreaming While I Wake Genre: Angst/Family

Chapter 18

chapter 1 for new readers - ffn mirror

   Another day off seemed like overkill. So what if his feet weren’t fully healed? He had a pass for gym. He only had to be on his feet for 8 or so minutes an hour other than to and from school. Roman was getting sick of being home doing absolutely nothing. He should be doing chores or homework or something. He was going to be so freaking behind next Monday it would hurt. Roman shifted nervously on the couch in Thomas’s office and put down his book. He’d just been staring at the page for the last minute or two, anyway. Sometimes his thoughts ran away while he was reading and there was no point in fighting it.

   “You need something, Roman?” Thomas asked, not looking away from typing. Roman just grunted in response. He already knew how Thomas felt about this. There was no point in bringing it up again. They argued about it last night and this morning, too. He didn’t need any more recovery time. “Talk to me,” Thomas looked pointedly to Roman.

   “How about laundry, can I do my laundry? I’m basically out of clothes,” Roman asked, leaning back and looking at the ceiling with a huff. Thomas had to know he didn’t like being stuck in here.

   “I noticed. Not that the hot pink isn’t fetching, but I’m pretty certain if it were any shorter it’d be a crop top,” Thomas said a little sourly. Roman flushed and adjusted his jacket tighter over his torso in embarrassment, still minding his bruise. Admittedly, this shirt was pretty old. He usually only wore it under his black hoodie before he grew out of it. It only cost him $2 on clearance, so maybe he should just let this one go. Roman stared at the floor for a moment, considering it. He was wearing it now, so maybe it was still good as a back up shirt. “How about a compromise?” Thomas offered. Roman looked up in confusion to see Thomas raising his eyebrow.

   “What’s that?” Roman asked suspiciously.

   “I’ll let you do your laundry if you let me take transport the clothes themselves and you only handle the washing parts,” Roman groaned in annoyance, but Thomas didn’t stop. “And you tell me your clothes sizes and what you like to wear so we can order you some new clothes online,” Roman groaned louder and carefully crossed his arms. His ribs still hurt like the dickens. “It’s a great compromise,” Thomas said with a small smile, and Roman huffed dramatically.

   “It’s the worst compromise ever, that’s not balanced,” Roman rolled his eyes and flipped his hand dismissively.

   “What’s unbalanced about it?” Thomas asked curiously, tapping the desk.

   “I don’t-” Shit. Roman flushed harder and dropped his head. Another thing he and Thomas argued about. Roman thought Virgil was obstinate, but that was nothing compared to what he’d been putting Thomas and Patton through. Thomas stopped typing and raised an eyebrow again. Virgil was a walk in the park compared to Roman, and Virgil had real problems.

   “You don’t what?” Thomas asked, raising an eyebrow.

   “I don’t think it’s fair,” Roman said, dodging what he really felt with something that sounded nicer.

   “I don’t see anything unfair about it. In fact, I can do your laundry myself and I wouldn’t find it unfair. In my opinion, you shouldn’t do chores when you’re sick or recovering,” Thomas said plainly, but Roman didn’t miss that swift, meaningful look. God damnit. He was superb at this. Maybe that’s what was unfair. Roman didn’t have a response, so he just looked away. “Both parties make compromises, Roman. You have to tell me what you object to so we can negotiate a better agreement,” Thomas added after the lengthy pause.

   “I’m okay with you taking the laundry basket up and down the stairs,” Roman muttered, conceding a point to Thomas. He didn’t want the basket to bump his rib on the stairs, and he could live with that.

   “That’s good to hear. So you don’t want to tell me what kind of clothes you want?” Thomas asked. Roman didn’t reply or look Thomas in the eye. “You’d rather shop in-store? I’m sorry, you’ve got to keep off your feet a little longer. They were bleeding again last night,” Roman motioned down at his feet.

   “I know,” Roman mumbled.

   “So, what’s wrong with shopping online? If we order a size up from the stuff you’re currently wearing we should be okay, and we can return everything that doesn’t fit,” Thomas said. Roman turned his head away. He hated not answering as much as he hated feeling like this. “It’s the money again, isn’t it?” Thomas asked after a moment, realizing the problem after a moment of deliberation.

   “Clothes are just so expensive,” Roman grumbled, looking down to the floor.

   “How about you pick out some things you like from photos, and I’ll order something like it? You’ll never have to see the price,” Thomas offered.

   “There’s still money being spent,” Roman sighed, fiddling with the zipper on his jacket.

   “You will rip out of that t-shirt if you stretch, Roman. You clearly need new clothes,” Thomas motioned to Roman’s shirt.

   “That would be kind of cool if I could. I’m not nearly strong enough,” Roman poked his bicep absentmindedly. He never really managed a lot of muscle mass as much as he’d like to be stronger. When he was a kid, he and Remus must have been strong since they were wrestling and throwing each other at their bed or the couch almost every day. They were the same size and could both lift the other pretty easily back in the day. They threw each other around for fun all the time. But they ate really well as kids, so that possibly helped. He still had fond memories of throwing a Remus who was screeching like a drake and bouncing off a couch cushion and cackling after landing on the floor.

   “So?” Thomas urged him, not letting Roman distract himself from the subject. Roman sighed and sat up straighter. He was happy to get sucked into a nice memory for once. He probably needed clothes.

   “Yeah, okay. Can you just… not order too much?” Roman pleaded, looking to Thomas nervously.

   “How much is too much?” Thomas asked, leaning back and watching Roman keenly.

   “Fifty bucks?” Roman offered meekly.

   “I’d have to find a serious clearance if that’s the case. I can try, but it’s not that realistic,” Thomas frowned and shook his head.

   “… Around sixty bucks?” Roman tried again.

   “We’re not accepting your allowance for clothes, just so I’m clear,” Thomas said, looking a little intense. Fuck. Okay. Roman scratched his head roughly with both hands in stress. “Hey, stop!” Thomas said loudly and Roman froze with his eyes wide. “Take a deep breath for me,” Roman slowly lowered his arms and complied.

   “Sorry,” Roman muttered. He didn’t realize what he was doing until Thomas stopped him.

   “It’s okay, it’s not your fault. Are you okay with under 70 dollars of clothes? Do you think you could keep it together if I stick to that amount?” Thomas asked gently, not sounding pleased.

   “Yeah, probably,” Roman said and sighed, looking straight ahead into the living room despondently.

   “Okay, I’ll see what I can do. Can you e-mail me a Pinterest board or something with styles you like?” Thomas requested and turned to his computer for a moment.

   “I’ve never really looked before,” Roman said uncertainly. He always just bought off the clearance rack or took whatever his foster parents chose for him.

   “How about you just tell me things you like in clothes and then I can help you narrow it down?” Thomas asked, motioning the concept with his hands.

   “I’ve distracted you enough from work as it is,” Roman objected, leaning back again.

   “I’m taking a break, like healthy people should do periodically through the day,” Thomas said. Roman wasn’t sure, but he may have gotten roasted? The audacity. It was ridiculous to him that he was taking all this time off when he was the one who fucked up.

   “Okay. Um. Soft material. Not too tight. Stuff that breathes. No shorts,” Roman suggested, listing off things he preferred.

   “Like athletic wear?” Thomas tried to clarify.

   “Sure, as long as it’s not too loose or scratchy. I like room to move in things but I don’t like lots of extra material,” Roman explained, and it felt like he was explaining it poorly. Thomas nodded, though.

   “I think just buying clothes that actually fit will solve that problem. Do you have a shirt cut you like?” Thomas continued questioning.

   “V-neck or low. Not crew, please, I don’t like things touching my neck. Um, fitted, I guess. I like wearing jackets since they keep the school so cold,” Roman said nervously. He didn’t like admitting he had such an easy to take advantage of weakness, but he hoped Thomas wouldn’t utilize it or spread it. If Thomas wasted money on clothes Roman couldn’t stomach putting on he’d feel much worse than he already did.

   “That explains why some of your shirt collars are stretched out,” Thomas muttered under his breath. “What about colors?” Thomas asked, sounding much more interested.

   “Oh, um… Red’s my favourite color, but I’m not particularly against any color that isn’t like puke brown. I like bright tops and dark bottoms, if I had to be specific. Easier to clean,” Roman said.

   “Do you like any clothing styles? Like Virgil enjoys more emo styles and Patton likes to dress preppier?”

   “I’ve never worn anything but generic stuff. But I like something that looks put-together. Not like suit-and-tie fancy, but maybe… I don’t know how to explain it…” Roman trailed off. “Cool, but not in your face about it?”

   “Like you’re maybe a YA protagonist?” Thomas suggested with a small grin.

   “Yeah!” Roman said excitedly. “Like I’m going to save the world or something,” Roman smiled lightly and his brain wandered off for a moment with ideas.

   “Sure, I can work with that. Probably nothing too flashy, right?” Thomas asked, yanking him back to reality quickly. Thomas looked pretty pleased for some reason.

   “No, I don’t need more reasons to be bullied,” Roman said dourly.

   “Noted,” Thomas said warily. “Do you think you could give me a little more leeway on the money? So I can get you a jacket that maybe implies you’re leading a rebellion?” Thomas asked carefully, but the way he described the potential jacket was very tempting.

   “That would be-” Roman started automatically replying with excitement and cut himself off. Wait, shit, money, fuck, no-

   “Drop your hands, Roman,” Thomas said firmly. Roman looked to them, not realizing he’d raised them again, and dropped them to grip the couch, feeling embarrassed.

   “I promise I’ll keep it a reasonable amount, just a little extra money to buy another jacket,” Thomas offered. “If you say no, I won’t buy anything else other than the essentials,” Thomas added, sounding very considerate. Roman swallowed. It would make Thomas happy, right? Roman has been doing nothing but pissing him off for days. Roman doesn’t deserve any of this, but Thomas doesn’t deserve to be pissed off more, either. This trashfire of a situation was conflicting.

   “If… yeah, okay. Another jacket is okay,” Roman conceded quietly, still holding the couch cushions tightly.

   “Hold on a sec, keep gripping those cushions,” Thomas said, getting up from his desk, looking like an idea struck him. Roman looked at him in confusion, and Thomas left the room. He came back a minute later with a pair of thin leather gloves and tossed them at Roman. “If you put those on, I’ll let you play games on the TV,” Thomas said, sounding proud of himself.

   “You’re kidding,” Roman mumbled, picking up the gloves slowly.

   “I’ll feel better,” Thomas said, almost airily. Roman slid them on. “If I had to guess you’re too distracted to read, but that game you were playing the other day is good at keeping your attention. And I don’t want you to accidentally see me shopping and get concerned. We’ll deal with making sure you’re okay when it gets here. I don’t want you obsessing over it,” Thomas said. “I’ll keep an eye on the clock for you, so you can just focus on playing the game,” That would be cool. He still felt like shit about taking all this time off and then Thomas buying him more stuff. But Thomas was right that he didn’t think he could manage to read anymore, and maybe he’d freak out if just watched TV.

   “Can we do that compromise thing? Y’know, again?” Roman asked wearily.

   “What do you propose?” Thomas leaned back in his desk chair.

   “You let me do some homework later, so I can feel better about playing video games when I have so much to do?” Roman requested nervously.

   “Would you be willing to accept help with it? I’ve seen all the chewed up pencils in your room,” Thomas suggested, looking interested in the opportunity.

   “I guess?” Roman agreed, a little confused. Roman was just dumb and nervous. A little help probably wouldn’t change much. They’d probably get sick of trying quickly, like most others. But as long as they didn’t rub in how bad at homework he was, Roman didn’t mind.

   “All right, I’m okay with that,” Thomas held out his arm and helped Roman up off the couch. He didn’t like being babied like this, but his feet hurt. The gash on his right foot didn’t like to stay closed if Roman wasn’t super careful. He must have stepped on a broken beer bottle or something. Thomas helped Roman to the living room and sat down on the couch, letting Roman finish setting things up and sit down on his own. Thomas chucked the afghan at him as the game was loading up, and Roman wrapped it around his shoulders.

   Roman wasn’t sure for how long Thomas watched him, but he did eventually leave back to work in his office with the door open after a trip upstairs for something. Roman appreciated being given the space. He hadn’t gotten much since Wednesday. It was basically just at bed time he was left alone. And he sometimes spiraled at bedtime and probably wouldn’t mind someone there telling him it’d be fine and he didn’t need to run into the night. Not that Roman believed people when they said that, or anything, but he wouldn’t mind it. But being alone was better than Thomas sitting there watching while he waited for Roman to fall asleep or something. And if Roman hurt himself again, Thomas might. He was very on-edge about it. Which Roman couldn’t decide if that was kind of nice of him or annoying? He had been leaning towards annoying, but with the living room to himself and a sword in hand he was much less dissatisfied. He happily quested on in the game and got sucked up into it.

   “Roman?” Thomas tried to get his attention, but Roman was busy fighting off a demon bear and didn’t look.

   “Hm?” Roman made a noise of acknowledgment but barely noticed Thomas’s presence.

   “Roman. I need you to pause it,” Thomas said firmly. Roman huffed and got one more hit in before pausing the game.

   “Yeah?” Roman looked to Thomas, leaning back towards feeling like this was annoying. “I haven’t taken the gloves off or my hands off the controller, I swear,” Roman said, showing Thomas his still glove-clad hands.

   “No, this isn’t about that. Though, that’s comforting to hear. That was the doctor’s office calling. They got back to me with your results. You do have a fracture on your ribs,” Thomas said, sounding a little unsettled. Roman didn't remember hearing the phone ring, but he wasn't surprised at the news. The pain was pretty familiar at this point.

   “Oh. Um, what does that mean?” Roman asked nervously.

   “Well, we’ll need to make a few lifestyle changes. Start taking vitamins with breakfast, sleeping on your back and not your side, and there’s a 6-week checkup. There’s also some exercises you’ll have to do after it’s less painful,” Thomas listed off the things.

   “Um, all right,” Roman swallowed nervously. He rolled a lot in his sleep. He was very aware of this fact because it hurt like a bitch and kept waking him up, lately. The other stuff didn’t sound so bad, but he was scared of fucking up that in particular. He had no qualms with vitamins or exercises, and if Thomas stayed with him at the doctor’s again he could put up with it.

   “I asked, and you can’t run, so you’ll have to hold off on joining that club until you’re cleared for strenuous exercise again. If you want to walk Lita after your feet heal, you’ll also have to actually walk,” Thomas finished. He wasn’t going to join that club anyway, so it wasn’t really a major loss. Causing them even more trouble after the giant mess he made was not happening if Roman could possibly stop it.

   “Oh, well, that’s a bummer. I kinda like going for a run with her,” Roman said, feeling disappointed. He enjoyed sprinting with that little speed demon and watching her little tongue bob while she attempted the break the sound barrier.

   “With some effort, it won’t be that long until you can again. I’ll try to pick up the slack and get faster so she doesn’t get mad,” Thomas chuckled slightly. “The muffins I made earlier are now a safe temperature to eat,” He added offhandedly.

   “You made muffins?” Roman asked curiously. Thomas paused for a moment, considering Roman.

   “I made them while you’re playing. They’re chocolate chip if you want one,” Thomas said offered, looking bemused.

   “I, uh, now that I smell them, they smell amazing,” Roman said kind of sheepishly. The game must have sucked him in hardcore to not smell the chocolate and cinnamon in the air until now.

   “I’ll get you one with some milk,” Thomas said, heading into the kitchen. Thomas came back with the muffin on a little plate and a small glass of milk. Roman looked nervously at Thomas while he took the plate. He had done nothing all day. He didn’t earn anything, especially not treats. But it smelled good, and Thomas watched him expectantly. He didn’t want to push it again. Roman took a bite of the muffin. It was still warm, so the chocolate was melty and wonderful. Roman ate it probably a little too fast and downed his milk.

   “I’ll take that as a compliment,” Thomas chuckled and took Roman’s dishes. “You can go back to playing now. Thanks for taking the news in stride,” Thomas beamed proudly. “Try not to slouch,” Thomas said cheerily and waved as he retreated to the kitchen. Roman took as deep a breath as he could manage without hurting himself, straightened his back, and unpaused the game. He was having trouble focusing on it, though, as hard as he tried.

   It was a great muffin. He did nothing to get such a great muffin. Maybe he could do something later to make himself feel better? Roman leaned back slightly. Thomas waved at him with a small smile as he sat back at his desk. Thomas was definitely, absolutely watching. Thomas was clear he didn’t want Roman to do anything. But that just didn’t sit right with Roman.

   The muffin sat on his stomach oddly, and he felt sick. Roman knew it wasn’t really the muffin, and it frustrated him that he couldn’t even manage to do something like eating without fucking it up. Roman sighed and paused the game again, setting the controller down. He slowly moved to get up. Thomas hopped up and was at his side in a second, and Roman begrudgingly took the help.

   “Are you okay?” Thomas asked. Roman closed his eyes and breathed.

   “Yeah,” Roman said softly. “Bathroom,” Thomas helped Roman over to the downstairs restroom, and he walked in and shut the door behind him. Roman turned on the water and just watched it run for a moment before splashing water on his face. He shut the water off and gripped the countertop, watching water from his face drip into the drain. He suddenly felt exhausted. And standing on his feet hurt. Roman pat his face dry and came back out of the bathroom. Thomas walked back over to him and helped him over to the game controller again.

   “Are you sure you’re okay? You’re looking kind of pale,” Thomas said, looking at Roman with concern.

   “Yeah,” Roman muttered.

   “Yeah, you agree you’re looking pale? Let me help you lie down on the couch instead,” Thomas offered and pivoted.

   “Okay,” Roman whispered. Thomas helped him over to the couch and Roman laid down with no argument. Thomas draped the afghan over him from the floor.

   “I’ll save and quit this for you,” Thomas said and picked up the controller off the floor. “Do you want to watch something? Virgil will be home soon, maybe there’s something you can watch together,” Thomas suggested gently.

   “You don’t have to bother him. I’ll keep the gloves on and stuff,” Roman said quietly. Thomas finished and put the controller up and came over to touch Roman’s forehead with the back of his palm.

   “You’re kind of clammy, Roman,” Thomas said. “Let me get you a thicker blanket,” Thomas turned around quickly and opened up an ottoman against the wall, and he pulled out a large quilt and layered it over the afghan. Roman grabbed the edge and blinked slowly. Roman was just so sick of himself. Thomas passed Roman the remote, but Roman didn’t take it, shaking his head slightly. He just felt so done with everything. His eyes got kind of heavy and Roman exhaled slowly. He didn’t realize he was so tired. Tired of his shit? Tired of himself? Or did he just sleep like shit again? He wasn’t sure. He just knew he hurt, and closing his eyes sounded nice.

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[sebsallowapologist]

Pothos: 3

Thank you to everyone who continues to read and share what they think! Everyone enjoying it really makes me want to write more and more. 

Enjoy!

***

“So should I leave?” He asks and the blood drains out of my face. Surely I wasn’t strong enough to will him back if he decided to really leave again. “Why?” I choke out and the teasing smile stays plastered on his face, but behind the eyes he looks tortured, like he’s in pain.

“Traditionally a gentleman comes by to pick up his date for dinner, leaving her time to get ready. If I'm not mistaken, I am pretty rusty at this. Perhaps times have changed?” He asks and I bite my lip. “I don’t go on many dates, so I wouldn’t know. And we have so much catching up to do and it’s still early.” I breathe and he nods, leaning back in my dining room chair. How was my $12 Ikea plastic chair keeping this Greek god up?

“You’re right, we do have lots to talk about. So do you enjoy your job?” He asks with a smile and I shake my head. “You don’t?”

“No, I do. But don’t you think I deserve to go first, questions wise?” I ask and Edward’s lips become a tight line. “Ah. Yes, what are you curious about?”

“What have you been doing the past... seven years?” I asked. “Where did you go when you left?”

“I haven’t settled down anywhere. I spent some time in the South, then South America. All over.” He explains and I sigh, not the answer I was looking for. “What were you doing in all those places? Anything important?” I ask, when I really want to know if whatever he was doing was worth ripping me to shreds.

He doesn’t answer and I roll my eyes, moving to stand up from the table. I didn’t wait 7 years to be lied to, or have things hidden from me. “No. Don’t.” He says and lighty places his cool hand on top of mine. It feels like fire ran up my arm and I was waiting for a burn that didn’t come.

I sit back in my chair and he takes my hand in his, playing with my fingers, refusing to look up at me. “I was hunting- not for food but- I was hunting Victoria.”

“Victoria? As in James’ Victoria?” I ask and he nods, turning my hand over to look at the scar that James gave me, the scar I’d become so attached to. Proof of a world that had disappeared. “She did not take it well when I had to kill James, I read that in her mind and I was never sure- but I had to be certain she wasn’t coming after you.”

“Did you find her?” I ask and he shakes his head, chuckling. “Turns out I am a horrible tracker.” I doubt that. He wasn’t horrible at anything.

“So where is Carlisle? And Esme? Were they with you?” I ask and he shakes his head no, still playing with my fingers. “They’re in New York, upstate but close enough to the city for Carlisle to work at a major hospital. He loves the intensity. Esme loves the museums and Alice is going to FID.” He smiles and I nod. Yes. The forever young repeating high school and college over and over and over again.

“They miss you.” He tells me and I nod sadly, “I miss them too.” I missed being 17, I missed my old life with all of them in it. I missed being taken care of. “Why are you sad? Is your head alright?” He asks and I nod. “Yeah- Yeah I’m just- reminiscing I guess.” I sigh and finish my water.

“May I ask you some questions now?”

“Sure.” I give in, I was too overwhelmed. I couldn’t figure out which question I wanted to ask next.

“Why Los Angeles? Because it’s warm?” He asks and I nod. “Yeah, warm. Big city. I like the distractions.” I answer and he nods. “Do you like your job?” He asks and I blush. It was like him asking if I liked his gift.

“I like my job. Well I like writing, answering to people isn’t as fun but it pays the bills and I could be doing a lot worse.” I smile and he laughs a little. “My parents get your magazine sent to the house. They’re very proud of you.”

My breath catches in my throat. “They are?” Didn’t they know they’re the ones that bought me the job, bought my education too.

“Of course.” He breaths, trying to sound as soothing as possible. “Aren’t Charlie and Renee?” He asks and I nod. “Yeah of course they just don’t- know.” Don’t know that I never earned that job- never earned anything I’ve had myself.

“I’m proud of you too.” He says and I scoff a little, my eyes pricking with tears. “Don’t cry.” He begs and stands up from the table very slowly. He grabs my side and lifts me off the chair, giving me all the time in the world to tell him no as he sets me in his lap.

It’s cold and hard, and it should be uncomfortable, but he molds his body around mine to fit me perfectly. “Why does that make you sad?”

A lot of reasons, I was sad because until today I guess that he never thought about me, or thought about me much. I was sad because he didn’t seem to realize that his gifts, the things that made me a successful person, brought me so much pain. Pain in that I never earned them. Guilt because I was taking them from someone who so badly deserved it.

“I was really hoping that something had changed, and that I’d be able to read your mind now. I should have known better.” He smiles and I laugh a little, it’s horse and broken. “Thank god you can’t read my mind.” I smile and he smiles back at me, “I do wish you’d tell me what you’re thinking.” He begs and I bite my lip.

If he knew how ungrateful I was for what he’d done for me- he’d leave again. Who wouldn’t?

“Tell me what you’re thinking first.” That would buy me enough time to think of something else to say.

“What I’m thinking? Well I’m thinking a lot. I haven’t felt this whole in years- so I’m celebrating that. You’ve somehow gotten more beautiful. I didn’t know that was possible.” He smiles and I feel the blood rush to my face. “Ah- even more so. You might be out of my league now.” he smiles and brushes his hand over my cheek. “I got old.” I mumble and he shakes his head.

“You’re 25, that is very far from old.”

“I’m older than Carlisle.” I remind him and Edward rolls his eyes. “No you’re not.”

I laugh a little and use some courage to brush his hair out of his face. “Now what are you thinking?”

“I’m just overwhelmed.” I sigh, which wasn’t a lie. “I’m so- I haven’t been this happy in a very long time. But I’m scared, I'm hurt. I’m a little mad. But I don’t even know if this is all real. It’s truly a lot for my little human brain.” I joke. I catch another cringe. God I hated seeing him so hurt over what’s become of me.

“Would you like to yell at me? Perhaps beat me up a little?” He asks, trying to keep it light.

“Ha! Well I have been taking boxing lessons.” I tell him and he looks surprised. “You have?”

“Mmhm. Charlie got real nervous when I went to UCLA and he begged. I did it to make him happy but I figured out that I really like punching things.” I smile.

Turns out, this is the funniest thing that Edward’s ever heard. He lets out a bellowing laugh and holds me tight as he curls over a little. “What!?” I ask and he shakes his head, trying to stop laughing. “It’s just- I can’t picture it.”

“Hey!” I huff a little offended. “I don’t have super human strength, excuse me, but I could hold my own.”

“I’d like to see that.” Edward smiles. I giggle a little at him. That settles and he taps my outer thigh with his hand. “So what would you like to eat tonight?”

“There's this Taco place that's really good around the block.” I tell him and he shakes his head. “No, I would like to take you somewhere nice. Alice sent me here with a suit. I think I have to use it.”

I roll my eyes at my former best friend. Sent him with a suit. Stupid “Well it’s Saturday. Anywhere good is going to be booked up.” I tell him and he shakes his head. “That's not a problem, where would you like to eat?”

Oh he thinks he can just take me anywhere? This was LA this wasn’t Forks. He couldn’t possibly just get a table wherever. “The Nice Guy.” I smile. A little challenge.

“Wonderful. What type of food is that?”

“Italian.” I laugh and he smiles. “Everything comes full circle doesn’t it?” It really did. “I should be going, I have to go get that suit and I should give my date time to get ready.”

My color leaves my face again. “You don’t have to do that. You can stay.”

“Bella.” He breathes and stands us up, placing his hand on my face. “I promise I’m coming back.”

“What if you don’t?” I ask. Because, god. What if this was just a wellness check? I couldn’t handle that. “Bella.” He makes my name sound like honey. “I came back because I couldn’t live another day without you in my life. I promise I am coming back.”

I guess if he did he did- and if he didn’t he didn’t- and I was going to have to deal with it either way. “Alright.” I sigh. He leans forward and places his cool lips on my forehead. “I’ll be back at 8:00, my Bella.” And just like that, he’s gone.

***

If Edward was going to come back, I was going to give him something that made him want to keep coming back. I was no longer the pubescent teenage girl I was when I knew him. I was older now, for better or for worse. I had a few gray hairs that most humans couldn’t see- but I’m sure he saw them, and I had a small wrinkle on the right side of my mouth.  

But I had curves now, and I finally knew how to dress. Alice would be so proud at my small but well thought out closet. I got rid of the idea that dressing nicely and wearing make up was a sign of weakness and had fun with it.

I had one nice dress- my close the deal dress. Black with thin straps, it went to just above my knees but it hugged every curve I had. I kept the hair and make up simple, doing what I knew how, curl my hair and do some basic make up. Tonight wasn’t the night to try something new.

At 7:45 there was a knock at my door and my heart jumped into my throat. Oh thank god. I slip my black heels on. “Coming!” I rush to the door, throwing it open without bothering to look at the peephole. The anxiety I’d felt since he left melts away and I’m just standing in awe of him, of all his glory as he stands in my doorway holding a dozen roses.

“I said you didn’t have to get me flowers.” I laugh and he shakes his head. “I’m speechless.” He breathes and I smile. “Speechless, huh?” Never heard him speechless before, that's for damn sure.

“You look-” He just blinks. “There's not a word in any language I know that properly describes how you look.” he says and I shrug. “Good I hope?”

He scoffs, “Good doesn’t even begin to describe it.” I blush and take the flowers from him, walking to my kitchen to put them in some water.

Once I’m done with that I grab my phone and my purse and smile. “Should I call an uber?” I ask and he shakes his head, “I came prepared.” I hold my hands up in defeat. “Alright, let’s go to The Nice Guy with no reservation.” I tease.

“We have a reservation.”

“You’re- wild.” I laugh and follow him out the door. I turn around to lock up and when I look back up Edward’s standing on the curb, holding the door open to a very fancy car. “You know this is a city, people have eyes around here.” I warn and walk to the car. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He smiles and holds out his hand to help me into the car.

An Aston Martin. Wow. He’s in the driver’s seat before I can finish a thought about the impressive car.

I didn’t forget what an insane drive Edward was, but I think my memories had dulled the intensity of it. We weaved in and out of cars on the busy street and I start to rethink honking at every douchebag who’d ever cut me off in an expensive car. Were they vampires too or just stupid humans?

I grab the door and Edward laughs a little. “I forgot you drive like we’re 30 minutes late for something.” I breathe and he smiles. “We’re not late, I just don’t like wasting time.”

“Wasting time with things like speed limits and red lights. Got it.” I breathe and he chuckles, “You’re so funny.”I want to tell him to look at the road but I know it would fall on deaf ears.

We make it to the valet at the restaurant and the man opens the door for me while Edward walks around the car at a human pace. He walks up to the hostess and smiles. “Cullen.” He tells her and she nods, looking him up and down. I was having insane flashbacks, but at least this time I knew I was hotter than the hostess at the front stand. So at least we were off to a better start self-esteem wise.

She leads us to a table near the back and Edward makes a show about pulling my chair out for me. I had only been on a few dates in my life, but of course Edward blew them all out of the water. He picks up the menu and I giggle a little bit, “What?” He asks and I shake my head. “Nothing. What looks good?” I ask and he shrugs. “I was looking over the wine list, what were you thinking about ordering for your meal? We can get a bottle that pairs well.”

“We do not need to order a bottle of wine.” I laugh. “I can order a glass.”

“Why not?”

“Because I don’t like to get fall down drunk when I go on dates with an ex-boyfriend, and I assume you won’t be drinking with me.” I smile and he nods. “A glass or two it is.” He smiles “You know I’ve been drunk before.” He smiles, proud of himself and I gasp, “Edward Cullen? Drunk?”

“Yes. My seventeenth birthday I stole some of my father’s whiskey. I can’t say I remember much else.” He chuckles and I smile. “I can’t picture it.” I shake my head and he nods. “Did you smoke pot in the 70s too?” I ask and he shakes his head no with a laugh.

I liked keeping it light, we had so much to talk about but I knew all the heavy topics were going to do nothing but hurt me, so while I could I was going to stay in the light.

The waitress comes by and asks for our order. “I’ll take the chicken with a glass of the beaujolais.” I smile and hand her my menu. “I will do the mushroom ravioli with a glass of the same.” He says with a smirk in my direction and she nods, writing it down, taking our menus.

“Aren’t you supposed to drink white wine with chicken?” He asks and I roll my eyes. “Aren’t you supposed to drink blood?” I counter and he nods with pursed lips. “Touché, but the pasta is for you, I couldn’t not order something, it would be rude.”

“So rude.” I tease and he chuckles a little.

[amysubmits]

Screw Ups

Sometimes D/s has a way of working like a magnifying glass. 

I never used to think of myself as a perfectionist in really any way. D/s has shown me that within relationships and/or with emotional things, I certainly can be. I hate letting anyone down, hurting anyone’s feelings or falling short of anyone’s expectations. Naturally, these things are far more intense with my Dominant. 

This week though I felt like I was forgetting things or just screwing things up left and right. Nothing major. Just endless little things. 

We had taken out a proud of ground beef to thaw in the fridge and forgot about it. CD had mentioned that it must have gone bad by now. So apparently I threw it away and then forgot. A couple days later I see ground beef in the fridge on trash day so I throw it away..thinking it was really old/outdated. I also threw out milk which was stamped to expire the next day. 

CD got home and asked what happened to the ground beef. ‘What? You said it was really old so I threw it out.’ he explains that he just took that pound out last night. That I had thrown out the old one already a couple of days ago. 

So I realize I threw out meat that was perfectly fine...and now we couldn't eat the dinner he had planned. I felt a bit guilty and kinda stupid for completely forgetting that I had already thrown it out a couple of days ago. He provided a different meal idea and then I realized it calls for milk so I explain that I also threw it out (thinking we wouldn’t use it before it expired) so we can’t have that meal either. We settle on making tacos from frozen meat...which makes me feel bad because that takes a while to cook and I knew he was really hungry already. I feel like I’m making his life harder instead of easier.

I talk to him about how my sister is coming over the next day and how there are some things I planned to sort through to get rid of and how I’d let her take anything she wanted from what I planned to get rid of. I made a pile in the living room. He again asks me to take meat out to thaw and I set it on the counter. 

My sister comes over and takes stuff from the pile of items I was planning to donate.  

CD gets home from work and asks what happened to something. I explain that it was on the get-rid-of pile and my sister took it. He was clearly frustrated that I gave away something he wanted to keep. While I’m fully aware that it’s a very reasonable reaction to the situation, his frustration spikes my anxiety..and guilt..and feelings of failure. I don’t know why I just assumed he was OK with getting rid of everything I had piled without specifically asking him or having him look at everything. I start sort of berating myself about how I need to get my shit together, how I’ve let him down so many times this week. How I should have been more thoughtful and asked him to check everything I had piled up to get rid of. I just feel low in general. 

Then he tells me that he’d like me to make dinner, but check it over well and smell it first -  that he thinks what I had taken out should be okay even though it was left out most of the night. He put it in the fridge at 4am when he got up for work so it should be fine but check to make sure. There is no judgment in his voice but it makes no real difference to me.

Out loud I say “are you kidding me? Did I really forget...? I seriously left it out all night?” and he chuckles. Not maliciously at all.  But it hurts. 

I start crying with my back to CD but I fail to hide it. 

I hadn’t realized I forgot to put it in the fridge before going to bed. Was completely unaware until he said so. No “Wait did I put that away?” ever crossed my mind all day. Yet another mistake. I’ve failed to follow an extremely basic instruction again.

My mind goes to “what the fuck is wrong with you? Why can’t you ever do anything right? Why do you fail at everything? You’re a terrible submissive. You’ve let him down so many times.”

CD asks why I’m crying as he walks over to me. I say something about how I’m mad. He touches my shoulders. I can’t look at him. “Do you think you are reacting so strongly because you’re on your period?” He asks. I don’t answer because I haven’t finished processing. He pats my butt for quite a while after I’ve quit crying. 

---------

I don’t fail at everything, of course. I do plenty of things well. What is ‘wrong’ with me...well, I had an ADHD diagnosis as a kid and perhaps that is to blame for some of this. But this week has been 10x more forgetful than I usually am. For the most part nothing is wrong with me. It’s just a bad week with a lot of random mistakes. It’s really not any bigger than that. 

Of course, I know all of this deep down. But I’m not able to think this way until after the anger has passed. Thankfully it only took 15 minutes or so to calm down and process. 

I wrap my hands around CD’s neck. I sort of giggle. “I’m not crazy anymore..”

“You’re not crazy.” he says. 

“I...sometimes I...get mixed up. I want to please you so badly. I’ve messed up your food plans so many times this week! And yesterday I knew you were frustrated. And that frustration is understandable. Completely. But sometimes I get mixed up. I can’t let myself think that my job is to never frustrate you. Or to never make mistakes. Or to never forget things. I have to remember that we both have to have room to be human. You have to have space to be frustrated sometimes. And I have to have space to forget stuff sometimes. It’s not failure. And yeah my period doesn’t help...”

He nodded and squeezed me. 

A couple days later he discovers one-of tasks on the OurHome app (we’ve only ever used it for recurring chores) and starts using that as a back-up way of reminding me of individual instructions he gives me.