#If I had the time I’d write it myself but alas

[beastoftheblackhole]

rewatching the 2011 ‘the thing’ and honestly if I were an emf/film major there’d be a dissertation in the comparison between it and other cg-heavy horror movies being so bloodless compared to practical effects, like the 1982 movie is so fucking goopy. Soggy. That movie drips, it oozes like a slug. It feels so much more visceral than the 2011 one, regardless of considerations of which aged better or looks more real or w/e. I know the 2011 one was pressured into the cg by the studio, but I cannot believe they were unable to stick some blood pumps up the actors’ shirts.

smth smth cg stuff is more divorced from the human animal, mirrors society’s increasing unwillingness to accept the animality of the human body, horror shaking hands w ‘everyone is beautiful and no one is horny’, idk

[crossbackpoke-check]

it’s all the rest of what i want with you

connor dewar/brandon duhaime :: 8k

Summary:

“Brandon,” Connor says with a sigh. “There’s no baby in there.”

“Not yet,” Brandon says. Connor feels his stomach twist, almost like what he would imagine a baby kicking to feel like.

in these trying times of dewvorce, may i offer you 8k of pwp inspired by @stillfertile’s wonderful art which i had. several breakdowns about 🫶 anyway please enjoy!!!

[stergeon]

Hey ^^

Just finished catching up on the victors - just wanted to pop in and let you know that I'm enjoying it immensely and am very curious to see where you'll go with it.

Hope you have a great day ^^

thank you anon, i’m so glad you like it!!!! theoretically i’ll be updating Soon; chapter 4 is very close to being done and i’m extreeeemely excited for where it’s gonna go from there 😈

appreciate your message, thanks again for reaching out <3 hope you have a great day too!!

[tsukimefuku]

the letter ꕥ higuruma hiromi

summary: reader writes a letter for an absentee. one that she will never send.

tags: f!reader, implied past relationship, higuruma x reader, angst, break up, longing and general heartbreak.

wc: 1k

notes etc.: this is actually my original style of writing in my native language before i began writing in 2nd(?) + 3rd person pov on ao3 and tumblr this year. it’s different from what I’ve written so far, but I hope you guys enjoy it. the style translation was hard, holy shirt. song → shake it out (florence + the machine).

ꕥ collection of stories: "jujutsu partners au" → masterlist

i like to keep my issues drawn ꕥ it’s always darkest before the dawn

I was debating if I should start this with “hey, Hiromi”, “hi, Higuruma”, “dear” something, and I still haven’t arrived at an answer. The first sounds too casual for what we have become — and what are we now if not strangers? The second, however, is just too impersonal, and I don’t need such a stinging reminder of how much I’m not entitled to your first name anymore. At last, “dear” to start a letter is just tacky.

Alas, I digress.

I don’t quite know what possessed me to pick up a pen and a piece of paper (analogical, just like you’ve noted me to be) to blurt out the swirling hurts in my mind, but I guess I still had a lot to say, even if you weren’t here long enough to hear it.

Here goes nothing.

You might be wondering how I’m doing (at least I hope so), so I thought I’d let you know.

Tonight, more specifically, I’ve been for an insurmountable stretch of time — were it hours? Minutes? Days? Out of my priorities, tracking time has not been one of them — staring at the empty vacuum making its presence known by my side. It seems to mock my stare, that longs, against all odds, for a miracle — for you to simply materialize right there, out of thin air.

Seriously, you should see the mess you’ve made when you left.

You left an emptiness of shoes, black suits, wet towels on the bed, cup marks on the furniture, scratches of morning beard, warm legs under the covers — an emptiness of body that has been giving me nightmares. You came in, flipped everything upside down, blew up my walls and made so that every edge, vertex, color and smell of this heart and bones surrounding our leftover life would incessantly scream for you.

It’s like my misery extended beyond myself and resoundingly expanded against the walls of this house.

But… even though I wish you were here with every tiny part of myself, I couldn’t ask for you to stay. I know it wouldn’t be fair. You’d never ask me to betray myself, and the least I could do was to love you in the same earnest way. 

You wouldn’t be the man I loved if you didn’t go. I wouldn’t be the person you loved if I asked you not to (I apologize for the past tense, it’s one of those truthless comforts I’ve decided to give myself for the time being).

You still linger here, though. I still keep your gaze close to my chest, your face pressed against my skin, your warm voice caressing the edge of my ear and your hair stroking through my fingers, even if it’s just my soul pretending for a minute.

A long minute.

You know, it has been hell without you here. The couch cushions wrap around me like your arms, the bed always bounces by the time you used to get up, and the kitchen smells like your favorite take-out meals (because God knows we’d set fire to this building if we so much as dared turning that stove top on). The window reflects two back at me when only one is looking at it, and my hiking boots are dearly missing those black oxford shoes. My coat hanging on the edge of the closet is also dearly missing your crumpled black ties sprinkled around the room (of course you took weeks to properly wash and organize them — when you ever did).

Oh, and the bed.

The bed is just not the same without that stupid, ridiculous blotch of water your towel would always leave on it.

A huge chunk of our house is missing.

I know I can’t let my selfishness kidnap you from what you need to do — and I do know you need it. But damn, sometimes it’s hard to fight the urge of hopping on the first train your way, grabbing you by your wrist and asking you to become once again part of my wallpaper, my duvet, my pillows. Just promise me you’ll make all of this pain worthwhile, even if you ran away with ten thirds of me.

Ever since you left, though, I learned a few tricks to mask your ever so present absence. I can pull the pillows towards the middle of the bed, eat in the living room and read in the kitchen, being sure to slowly put all my pieces back in place. 

It’s harder to notice an empty chair across the table when you willingly choose to sit on the ground.

However, I didn’t want to do that. Not today. Call it insanity, clarity, or just meet me in my madness like you always so kindly did.

Today, I wanted to let you invade me, come into my house with my full permission and go on turning everything upside down once more. That way, I can almost feel you there. To me, at least for now, that’s good enough (or as good as I know it’s gonna get).

Your muted way of sharing our space could be so, so silent. That quietude brought me the deepest of peaces.

Unfortunately, I never anticipated the silence from your absence would be so loud, and not peaceful at all. It has been hammering at my breathless heart for days. 

I miss you.

I love you, too.

***

With a sigh, you put the pen down and stared at the paper sheet for a minute, your own calligraphy so foreign with a pain you hadn’t let out properly ever since Hiromi… actually, Higuruma stepped out that morning.

Considering your options, you resigned, and pulled the letter in a crinkled messy ball, tossing it in the garbage can.

No need to talk to a voluntary absentee. No need to bother him, either.

You got yourself back up and picked up two pairs of keys, the blue buttoned shirt and made your way out of the apartment, not failing to hear the rumbling echo the door made when it slammed closed.

An echo that only happens in truly empty places.

[msmk11]

Don’t Care Less

therapist!Remus Lupin x gn!reader

Word count: 1k

CW: really not much; angst ig since reader is crying and upset but mainly just hurt/comfort

Summary: Your therapist, Remus, cares about you more than he should.

A/n: Hey all! Here’s a cutie little Remus fic for you. Idk what inspired me to write this but I can always use a little Remus comfort in my life :) I hope you can too!

No decent person liked to see others in distress, Remus Lupin included. But he could handle it. That’s why he was a therapist. Because he had thick enough skin to handle seeing people in pain, he decided to use it to actually help others. This had been true all of his life- until now. And you were the cause.

You- one of his newest clients and maybe also his prettiest. Scratch that, you were not only his prettiest client, but also the prettiest person he’d ever seen. With your big, soft eyes, enticing lips, and crooked smile, you had consumed all of Remus’ thoughts. His little crush on you, however, had made it very hard for him to do his job. Especially when you were crying.

Remus didn’t just dislike seeing you in distress, he hated it. It took everything in his power to not just swoop you up into his arms, brush your tears away, and kiss you silly until you’d forgotten all your problems. Alas, you were his client and he valued both his job and your trust. So as you sat across from him, tears streaming down your face and head in your hands, he was using all his restraint.

You’d been sobbing for about five minutes straight now, and it hadn’t lessened up.

Remus shifted forward in his seat and handed you the tissue box as a sort of peace offering. You weakly took one and blew your nose, trying to quiet your sobs.

“I’m, s-sorry,” you hiccuped, “once I started crying I just couldn’t stop.”

The brunette smiled warmly at you, “what have I said about apologizing? This is a sorry free zone.”

You gave him a faint, teary smile, and he was pretty sure his heart broke on the spot.

“Sor-“ You caught yourself before apologizing and had the decency to look sheepish.

Remus stood and went to get you a cup of water from the water jug in the corner. You accepted it with shaking hands and greedily gulped it down.

When you finished, you crumpled the cup and looked at him across the table, “I guess I didn’t realize how much I had pent up inside me. When something shitty happens, I guess I just push it down and move on. Because if I let every problem get to me, I’d fall apart. I’d never be able to put myself back together.”

“It’s your coping mechanism,” he said, understanding in his eyes, “which I’m glad you have, but it also can’t be your go to all the time. Holding it in isn’t healthy.”

Your bottom lip quivered a little, “I know. God, I know. It’s just a hard habit to break. When I’ve been doing it all my life, I don’t know any other way.”

Remus let out the smallest of laughs, “trust me, I know what you mean. Even to this day, I’m a chronic represser. It certainly feels easier to just ignore the problem. But it never really solves anything. And then it comes back ten times worse the next time.”

“Well, how do I stop it? How did you stop?”

Remus took a small sip of his tea and then looked at you honestly, “I haven’t fully stopped doing it, but I’ve gotten better. I’ve found people in my life who can hold me accountable. Who call me out when they see me trying to bottle up my feelings. I’ve found someone I can trust to talk to. Can you think of someone?”

You seem deep in thought over his question and the little furrow that formed in your brows made him swoon.

“Well, I, uh,” you paused nervously and Remus nodded at you to continue, “you. I guess. You’re the only person in my life that I feel like I can truly trust.”

“Though I guess I pay for your trust so I’m not sure that counts all that much,” you added with a slightly bitter scoff.

Remus’ heart both warmed at your confession that you trusted him the most, and also ached. You were right, of course. You did just pay him to be here. But how could he tell you that he actually cared so much more? That he cared about you after hours, out of the office, at all times of the day.

“Of course it counts,” he choked out, “sure, you pay me to be here, but I also want to. I’m a therapist because I care about people and about helping them. I care about helping you.”

And then, ever so quietly, he said, “maybe even a little more than I should.”

Your eyes shot up to meet his gaze and you were shocked by its sincerity. You think you might’ve shuddered a little and so you gripped your arms, pretending it was just cold, though you’d never felt warmer.

He stood and slowly moved around the table towards you, “I know it’s unprofessional, but I care about every little thing about you. When you smile I feel happier. When you cry I want to hurt whoever hurt you. Every time you tell me a little tidbit of information about your life, I soak it up, committing it to memory like my life depends on it. And I’ve tried to care less. I really have. But I can’t help it.”

“Please don’t,” you responded quietly. So quietly, he almost missed it.

“Don’t what?” He asked with bated breath.

“Care less.”

Remus was sure his heart stopped.

“Please,” you nearly pleaded, and then Remus was at your side. He drew your hands into his.

“I don’t think I ever can.”

You looked at him with these hopeful, begging eyes and he couldn’t resist you anymore. He pulled you close to him and placed the tenderest of kisses to your forehead. You nearly melted under his touch.

“What about your job?” You murmured into his chest.

He pulled away a little and looked into your eyes seriously, “we’ll find you someone else to see. And they won’t be better than me, but that’ll be okay, cause I’ll still be there. I’ll just be more than the ‘professional help’- as someone who doesn’t just care about you, but cares for you.”

“I, I’d like that very much, Remus.”

And his name sounded so good rolling off your lips for the first time, he had to restrain himself, yet again, from kissing you silly.

[wisecrackingeric-2]

LONG ASS MESSAGE UNDER CUT!!!!!!!!!!!! ITS A MASSIVE THANK YOU TO EVERYONE!!! I’ll tag everyone whose made a star for this drawing in the replies- if I’ve missed anyone or if you wanna be added, PLEASE LET KNOW!!!!!!!

At the time of writing this, there’s about 40 minutes let of 2023, and I’m VERY DETERMINED to get this posted before 2024 so I am in a bit of a rush so alas, this may not be as well-written as I’d like it to be but that’s the price I must pay alas HDNEHENEJDN

I wanna start this by saying I’ve always had a lot of anxieties surrounding the New Years, and things changing- even just seeing posts that were from the year prior always seems to give me anxiety. Things change, people move on, while I stay with the same interests- it’s always been something I’ve struggled with, but making this has helped me come to terms with all of that and I’m glad.

Theres no better words I can say right now other than; Thank You. Thank you so, so, SO much to my friends, both new and old- my friends who’ve been here since the very beginning and have stuck by me through this whole rollercoaster- and to all of my new friends, who it sometimes feels like I’ve known you all for at LEAST five years and not like, five months or something HDBWHNWUDNDHDJS thank you to everyone who has ever been kind to me, supported me and enjoyed what I’ve created- I’ve recieved probably the kindest words I’ve ever heard in my entire life this year. Thank you to the people who stuck by me when times got tough and helped me through my own seemingly very insignificant or silly problems HDNEJENSK

This year has easily been one of the best years of my life. 2022, to keep it short, was awful- I came out as a Transgender gay man to my parents and it went awful. I was dealing with the worst mental health of my entire life and there were times it felt like there was no hope. On top of all of that, my childhood dog passed away- so all and all, I wasn’t looking forward to the future. But my loving partner introduced me to Resident Evil, and as a result the community as a whole- and to say it changed my life would be an understatement.

I know it’s obviously no secret that I have a favourite character, Luis Serra Navarro- but to say his character has changed me as a person for the better would also be a MASSIVE understatement. I’ve never ever in my entire life resonated with a character so profoundly before- as a queer and trans man, I saw myself reflected in his performance, and that means more to me than words can even describe. His character encapsulated me in a way no other has done before, and genuinely helped me accept my autism, my queerness and my trans identity as a good thing- I could write absolutely ESSAYS on his character and I have. I’ve consumed more Don Quixote media than I think I ever would have otherwise HDNEHENEJD and to say I’ve genuinely become a more confident and happier person because of his character would, again, be SUCH an understatement. It’s truly hard to describe how much he means to me, but I hope my words give a good idea.

For the first time in a very, very long time, I get to look forward to my future. I don’t see my Queerness or my Trans identity as a setback anymore; I have things to look forward to, plans I’ve made and a future I can look towards. And I cannot thank my friends- all of you know who you are- André and Andrea and everyone in my life and this small little community I’ve unintentionally formed for giving me that opportunity. Words will never be able to describe how grateful I truly am, but I hope this is close enough.

Thank you for letting me fully indulge in my autism and enjoy Luis’ character to the fullest. I’ve never felt happier enjoying something in my entire life.

Thank you everyone. For everything. May you all successfully defeat your own windmills <3

[licorice-tea]

Would you ever so kindly write 10.Kaku + O. Kabedon? Have it so bad for this giraffe man <3 uhh,, he's so old fashioned and precious. Looks like a cinnamon roll, could kill you vibes, for real

Let Me Prove Myself

Pairing: Kaku x reader

Content: kaku is just a little suspicious, and a little intimidating kind of? but in a hot way. kaku calls the reader pretty and lovely, gender nuetral pronouns for reader, strawhat reader, kabedon ofc!

Word Count: 1k

A/N: quite literally wrote this between 4 and 5 am, so i apologize for anything that doesn’t make sense or sounds off😓but anyway i am such a kaku lover omg that’s literally my man (one of them), ty for the request <3

Some of your crew mates went to find someone who could fix your ship, the Going Merry, while others were off exploring the city. You had opted to venture off on your own, wanting to enjoy the scenery and culture of this grand island with fewer distractions that usual.

Navigating through the streets with no destination in mind, you end up in a sort of alleyway. It leads you out closer to the shoreline, and provides you with a picturesque view of some of the lower levels of the city accompanied by slow rolling ocean waves.

“So pretty,” you mumble to nobody in particular.

“Sure is.”

Your head nearly whips around to find the source of the voice. Were you being followed this entire time? Though you’d been under the impression that the people of Water 7 took kindly to most pirates, that didn’t mean there weren’t other sinister forces within the city… Perhaps should’ve been more careful, or stayed on the boat with Zoro.

Alas, you don’t see anyone in the direction from which you came, so you turn back slowly. Maybe you were imagining things.

You gasp and step back when you’re met face to face with a man who definitely hadn’t been there before. He’s tall, and has an unusually long and squarish nose. “It fits him, though.” you think. In fact, he’s a really attractive guy. But you can’t allow that to overpower your common sense, nor let your guard down. You make a mental note to not, under any circumstances, let your attraction get the better of you.

He takes your silence as an opportunity to explain himself. “I don’t mean to frighten you,” he steps closer as you take another step back, “you're not from around here, are you?”

“No… I’m not.” You raise your chin and cross your arms over your chest. “Were you following me?”

He laughs. “Well, when you put it like that it makes me sound like a bad guy.”

“Well I wouldn’t know what kind of guy you are, stranger.” Go

“Kaku,” he extends his hand, “and what’s your name if you don’t mind my asking?”

Ever so cautiously, you take his hand and shake it once. “Y/n.”

“Y/n. That’s lovely.”

“Um… thanks.”

Taking notice of your squared shoulders and general uncomfortable energy, Kaku takes another step toward you. Naturally you take another step backward, but you don’t realize you’re standing right in front of one of the walls of the alleyway you’d come out of until it hits your back. You inhale sharply.

“I have no ill intentions, y/n, I can assure you. I just…” he looks you up and down, not trying to hide his wandering eyes in the slightest. “Well, I’d never seen you around before and found myself eager to meet you. You’re awful pretty, y’know.”

The feeling seems to be mutual, but you intend to bury your own even deeper. “I- um-“

“So, are you by chance a pirate?”

Your eyes grow wider and you silently shake your head “no.”

Kaku chuckles and nonchalantly places a hand on the wall behind you. The other goes to his hip as he leans over you. You’re unsure if he’s trying to block off one of your two escape routes to either side, or is this is his attempt at charming you. “You don’t have to lie, y/n, I’m no bounty hunter. Nor a pirate hunter like your crew mate, Zoro.”

“You know Zoro?”

“Sure do. I inspected you all’s ship just a few minutes ago while he was there keeping watch. He was wary of me at first, and rightfully so considering we’d never met, but he seems like a swell guy.”

A relieved exhale visibly leaves your chest as your shoulders drop slightly. The fact that he knows one of your crew, and hasn’t talked ill of him, brings you some comfort.

“But that’s not important right now. I’m here to talk about you.”

“What about me?”

“Whatever you’re willing to tell me. I want to get to know you. I’m very interested, if I’m not making it obvious enough.”

You nearly giggle, but contain your laughter behind a smile. “No, you are.”

Feeling emboldened by your shy smile, Kaku removed his other hand from his hip and places it on the wall behind you. You glance to your side at it, and he walks forward into the half step that remains between your two bodies, bending his arms so that his forearms are entirely against the wall instead of his hands alone. Kabedon.

And when you turn forward again, you’re barely an inch away from his face. Or his nose, rather.

He speaks softly, but in the same old fashioned and all too-proper tone. “Have you ever been with a shipwright, y/n?”

You shake your head “no” again.

“Would you like to be?”

“Oh, well… my- my crew is probably only going to be here a few days, so…”

“Ah… so if the circumstances were different?”

“I might say yes.”

“Mhm… You see, I don’t mind these circumstances one bit. Are they a deal breaker for you?”

“I guess not.” You bite your lip with nervous excitement.

“Good.” He flashes you a bright smile and steps back a respectable distance.

Though you don’t mean to, your disappointment shows in your features.

Kaku notices- he seems to notice a lot about you- and chuckles. “Were you expecting something more just then?”

Truthfully, you were. If he had kissed you, you would have welcomed it with open arms (and lips.) You don’t say any of that though, just laugh awkwardly as your face heats up.

“I’m a gentleman, y/n. It’d be sleazy to try anything with you when we’ve only just met.”

“Oh,” you nod, finding his constitution respectable despite wishing he had been sleazy enough to try something, “right…”

“How about you let me take you out to an early dinner? I’d like to prove myself first.”

“What do you need to prove yourself to be worthy of?”

“You.”

You smile as Kaku offers you his arm, and your initial resolution to not let your guard down around him is almost entirely forgotten as you take it.

[the-kingshound]

Warning inane ramble incoming, it’ll probably be annoying I apologize. (*_ _)人 I spent the last several days reading every post here. I managed to convince myself to start liking some (sorry about that I’m sure it was annoying to get all those notifications) I have this weird thing where I get nervous about liking older posts cuz I mean it’s been a long time and it’s unprompted so that’s weird right? It feels weird like I’m doing something wrong or I’m being annoying, I considered reblogging too but somehow that felt worse? Sorry I am not good with social rules they confuse me both on and offline Idk my brain is wrong and I’m just a nervous socially anxious snail. (＞﹏＜)

Anyways just wanted to gush about how much I love it here and I’m never leaving (´꒳`) ♡ First and foremost Yniol has a special place in my heart they will forever be my favorite bestie (*＾ω＾)人(＾ω＾*), yes I am biased as my partner is grey and though they don’t play IFs they were thrilled to learn about your character! Also your writing is just phenomenal, your fans are fun and creative, your characters give such warm and positive energy I love them so much they’re perfect, the inclusivity is such chefs kiss ( ´ з `) 🤌🏻✨, the angst is delicious, the fluff is so sweet and comforting, the spice is ... very blush-worthy (⁄ ⁄>⁄ ▽ ⁄<⁄ ⁄). This has been a journey I laughed, I cried, I giggled, and I blushed and I have enjoyed every bit of it from pasta discourse to Moldien cult wars to Arthur bunnies, I’ve had the most wonderful time. Now my mind is gonna be filled with Arthurian stuff for months my maladaptive daydreaming is having the time of its life I have a road trip next week and I’m so looking forward to just staring out a window for 6+hours while my Hound's just alternating daydream adventures with the cast o(≧▽≦)o. Also speaking of your amazingly wonderful, sweet, and supportive cast I have decided my (though I love them all) favorite poly pairings are Arthur/Morien and whole crew polycule I’d sell my soul for those but I 100% understand why you can’t really do that. I don’t think I have the endurance in me to code a single poly no matter how much I wish it so the fact you’re doing any let alone several is just god tier you are awe inspiring.

Alas I have rambled far far to much I wish I could be more eloquent in expressing just how much I enjoyed experiencing all of this but for now this is the best I can do (╥ω╥). Thank you for sharing your wonderful work it’s truly a gift to experience. ଘ(੭ˊ꒳​ˋ)੭✧ I wish you wealth, health, and all the best in all your creative endeavors. -🐌

No, please please do not apologize. You made my entire week <3 This ask is straight up going into the folder where i keep my motivation to write and to be just a little proud of my work, thank you so so much for sending it.

For anyone having the same thoughts about liking or reblogging old posts: please do it. When I see the notifications, get very giddy and pleased, and I hope you are enjoying the food. Liking, and especially reblogging things, even more so if you add tags and reactons, not only fills me with glee but it also reminds me of old asks that I want to reblog again for new followers. So yeah, I love it, please feel free to go on a liking/reblogging spree!

You are so relatable for the maladaptive daydreaming (this game was absolutely born out of my own mental movies), I wish I could speed up the writing and editing for the next update so you can read it while you travel but I'm afraid it's a lost cause (I have been working on things, even now, but I am currently rewriting like half of it and while it is way better it takes sooo much time and energy). Knowing my characters and story are in someone's thoughts it the best kind of reward I need. I will never likely monetise this game, so this is the thing I wish to leave people with, and I hope the characters can be comforting and keep you company <3

You have no idea how much I would love to write the full polycule... maybe one day :,) But don't lose hope for the Arthur/Morien poly yet, as I decided to cancel the Gwyar/Morien poly and now I have a potentially free slot. In any case, awww, please know that this ask made me so happy today and will be in my thoughts as tkh is in yours.

Please have a lovely day and a lovely week and also a very lovely trip! Thank you again so so much!!

[unicornpopcorn14]

13 for the ship prompt! :D

Ship Prompts 13- Write about your ship celebrating one of the members birthdays. Ship chosen: Queerplatonic Skk I got carried away with this (3.5k words aaaaa) 😭😭 Hope you enjoy it, Darcy!! :D

Saccharine

“You’re aware what day of the year it is, right?”

Dazai’s eyes widen, fork still in his mouth as the chatter of the restaurant fades in his ears. It’s been four– almost five years, surely Chuuya isn’t alluding to that. The moment he meets the other’s peeved face, however, his mouth gapes, with the fork still inside it, and whispers in horror,

“Don’t-”

Chuuya cuts him off with an exasperated sigh, “I enjoyed those 51 days of me being a year older, but alas. The time has come for me-”

“Do not-”

“-to be nice to you for the whole day…”

“NOOOOO!!!” He grabs his hair as he lurches back, other customers turning to their table, “Chuuya, if you’re a sadist, I’d much rather find out in better ways!” He bangs on the table with flat hands, to which Chuuya’s veins bulge at, “Would you quit with that awful annual torture-?!”

“Come on, you do this every goddamn year!” Chuuya bickers back, “Indulge a little in what I put myself through for your ungrateful ass.”

“You do it because I don’t like it!”

“Well, true.” Chuuya shrugs, leaning back with folded arms, “But don’t you get at least a little tired from doing this shit constantly? I’d say this is a much needed change of pace-”

“First of all, how dare you suggest that this ‘shit’ is but a front. Maybe you can’t help but pretend to hate me– and I get it, after all, who could resist my charm? But I truly hate you-!”

“Uh huh.”

“-Second of all, I’d rather stay alive than ever go through that quote-un-quote: ‘needed change of pace’ for the third time in my miserable life!”

“That so?” The smirk that Chuuya wears sends Dazai’s long-have-been-numb nerves prickling in foreign agitation that he hasn’t felt in a long time-

“Oh my.” Chuuya’s tone and eyes instantly soften, and Dazai recoils back before he can help it, “Miserable life, Osamu? I’m so sorry to hear that. We can talk about it, you know-”

Dazai clasps his ears shut, “Shut uuuup!!!”

“As you wish,” Dazai grimaces even further because Chuuya just listened to him, “but do know I am always here to talk, yeah?” Chuuya unsheathes one of his gloves to take Dazai’s hand into his own, expression so uncanny as he genuinely smiles at Dazai. The brunette feels sick-

“I’ll avoid you for the whole day if you keep this up!” He threatens crackly, can’t bring himself to take his hand away, “The Agency is definitely pummeling without me helping with the paperwork.”

Chuuya normally would tell him that he slacks on the job anyway, but now he just simply closes his eyes, that same damn smile on his face, “Just say the word, and I’ll give you all the space you need. Never doubt that, mackerel.”

The pet name doesn’t grant him the normalcy he’s desperate for when Chuuya says it in that tone of voice, “No- You’re not supposed to-!” Dazai can sense that his lack of acutely predicting Chuuya’s responses might drive him crazy very soon, so he attempts to try to calm himself, “Aren’t there mafia business for you to attend, Mr. Executive? Does Mori even know you’re here?”

“Don’t worry, Osamu, I freed the whole day just for you.”

“Stop calling me that-”

“Anything you want-”

“Raaaaaghhh!!!” Now he takes his hand back, clutching it on his chest as if he’s been burned, “You’ll crack. You’ll definitely crack. There is no chance you’re keeping this up forever. Your tiny brain won’t handle it!”

But he knows that isn’t the case, because Chuuya’s tiny brain had handled it for the whole day during his seventeenth and eighteenth birthday, and now at 23, his tolerance to Dazai’s insults have significantly heightened, to the brunette’s sheer disdain.

Chuuya tilts his head a little, hair swaying, completing his sickeningly sweet demeanor, “I’d do anything for the most precious person in the world.”

“Eugh- I think I threw up in my mouth a little.” He gags with a fist on his mouth, voice groggy-

The waiter comes up to them, telling them that the other customers have complained about Dazai’s occasional shrieks. Chuuya, still so freaking sweetly, informs her that they were leaving already, pays the restaurant without complaining once about Dazai never pulling his own weight, and they take off.

“This is a nightmare.” Dazai says after a long moment of silence between them, something that never happens, “My feisty dog is suddenly nice, he’s definitely transpiring something wicked against me!”

Chuuya- Chuuya laughs, “You know you’re ridiculous with that…” He doesn’t say it meanly, wiping a tear, which Dazai’s brain haywires at-

“Really, now? Laughing at calling you my dog?” The smallest of frowns dares crease his forehead, “This is too much, even for you.”

“What? You’re funny.” Dazai’s face pales- greens even, “So, where do you want to go, birthday boy?”

Dazai bristles at the nickname, then inhales to calm himself, an idea springing up, “Fine. You asked for it, Slug!” He knows just the perfect way to break him, “We’re going to the arcade.”

He sees the flash in Chuuya’s eyes, and deems himself victorious. Chuuya would never maintain this bullshit at the arcade given his ridiculously competitive nature. He’ll definitely scream at Dazai once or twice out of habit more than anything-

Nothing.

Clearly Chuuya’s willpower has also improved through the years, because there isn’t a single aggressive shout, there isn’t any accusations of Dazai tampering with the machines (he had), and though Chuuya laughs and enjoys the rounds, what he utters after his loss is the straw that breaks the camel’s back,

“Aw shucks. Good match, that was fun.”

Dazai leaps from his seat and turns around the machines to reach the redhead, grabbing his cheeks with panicked eyes, “Chuuya, Chuuya are you in there?! I think you’ve been possessed!” He speaks to the eyes, sensing their amused confusion, “Do something to tell me you’re in there! Any sign!”

Chuuya smiles.

“Ahh!” Dazai lets him go instantly, “Begone, demon!!”

“Come on, now.” The not-Chuuya says fondly- eughhh, “Up for another round?”

“No!” This didn’t work. Dazai needs to think of other ways, make up a plan. Operation: exorcising this cloying demon out of his partner begins in-

“How about we go to my apartment? I have a surprise for you.”

Dazai’s eyes dart as his mind runs in terrifying speeds, addressing the other without looking, “I don’t trust you with surprises right now. You may be small, but you’re no less terrifying.”

Chuuya chuckles, “You’ll love it, trust me-”

Dazai gets into a fighting stance, gasping, “Do not speak of trust with that tone of voice, not-Chuuya!”

Chuuya chuckles again, and his silky tone coaxes him to follow him to his apartment, nevertheless. Dazai can’t believe he’ll have to endure seven more hours of this, planning to break a thing or two of Chuuya’s belongings out of spite if nothing else.

“Don’t think your façade is fooling me, I can see right through you!” He announces impatiently from the couch, leg bouncing up and down as Chuuya pours drinks from the kitchen, “You gagged at least twice through this, didn’t you? Admit it.”

Chuuya laughs again, a record in Dazai’s book. This is so ridiculous. “Stop cracking me up, I can’t pour the drinks.”

Dazai sulks, sinking into the couch, “Shut up…” But it’s weak, replaced by flusterment he can’t ebb down. He feels suddenly helpless with the lack of the reactions, and wonders if he’s losing his touch. The antique vase looks like it wants to crash into the floor in full speed so much right now.

“You’re a little red.” Not-Chuuya is suddenly in front of him, sitting down as he gapes up at him in amusement, “Cute.” He attempts to give Daza his drink.

Dazai, with crossed arms, huffs and turns away, “I’m not talking to you.”

“Why? Did I do anything wrong?” Chuuya asks gently with a smile, placing the glass on the table. Dazai turns even further in order to hide the other from his peripheral.

No, you didn’t. And that’s the problem.

“Your hair looks soft. Fluffy.” Dazai suddenly feels fingers running through the back of his head. His noddle whips so fast his neck feels like it cracked,

“Ew, ew! Don’t touch me, cheap-Chibi-replica!!” He doesn’t exactly flinch away, fuming, “The real Chuuya calls my hair a dirty mop all the time! Do better!”

Not-Chuuya brushes his bangs this time, fixated on them as he speaks, “Maybe he never told you those things because…” He pauses, eyes down-casting a little. Dazai begged him to say ‘you’re a pain in the ass’. It’s what he expects, it’s what makes perfect sense, it’s what aligns with the Chuuya he knows like the back of his hand, pleasepleaseplease-

“…he never really thought he deserved you enough to do so.”

Dazai rigids, “WHAT?!”

“He’s afraid of things he’ll lose.” Chuuya, to Dazai’s absolute disdain, explains, “So he tries his best to push everyone away. Everyone he’s sure will be too precious to him, everyone he’ll latch onto just a little too much, he tries his best to maintain his distance from th-”

“Chuuya, I have never been more serious with you in my life: Please stop.” Dazai numbly says, suddenly so, so exhausted.

The redhead’s mouth clasps, as per request, but he clarifies that it still isn’t over, “Only six more hours and I will.”

“Why?” Dazai stresses, uncomfortable, “You can end it here. Nothing obligates you to-”

“You never asked for your surprise.” Chuuya cuts him off.

Dazai blinks, turning to him, “If I see it, will you stop?”

“Only if you want to.”

“Of course I will.” Dazai rolls his eyes, “Now, on with it. If it gets the real Chuuya out, then the sooner the better.”

Chuuya smiles, but there is something solemn regarding it. He gets up, with Dazai observing his every move, and scurries through a drawer big and wide enough to accommodate stacks of files and documents. Dazai’s eyes narrow, never taking interest to rummage through this particular drawer for how boring its contents appear to be, but now his interest in piqued, as Chuuya finds what he’s looking for with a small: “Aha.”

Dazai thinks he sees an envelope in Chuuya’s hand as he ambles closer, but that can’t be right-

“Here.”

“Your surprise is a letter?” Dazai truly hasn’t been more confused in his life. He hates that he can’t see where this is going, inspecting the brown envelope as he speaks, “Chuuya, I don’t think there is anything you can’t verbally say to me now, do you? This is usele-”

His eyes widen, breath catching in his throat as he reads the name embedded on the paper.

From: Odasaku

Time seems to stop while Dazai reads the nickname once, twice. It’s in English cursive that can never be Chuuya’s handwriting, and his hands tremble ever so slightly the moment he registers the credibility of what he’s holding. This is real.

“You- wh-” He looks back and forth between the envelope and Chuuya’s gentle eyes, gaze never seeming to want to leave either.

Chuuya sits on the couch, voice subdued, “Your Executive desk was cleared by me after your defection, as per my own request. I was admittedly selfish– looking for anything you might have left for me before you left. Something to explain, anything-”

“Chuuya-”

“Hey, let me finish, will you?” Chuuya sends him a soft smile in reassurance, “I found this instead, read the first two paragraphs before I closed it again. It explained everything I needed to know, Dazai.” He leans back, drinking out of the wine glass, “You can read it privately if you want.”

But Dazai doesn’t get up, scrambling to take the paper out with shaky fingers. His heart wildly throbs once a long wall of text meets his widened eyes,

This is but my latest prose as a person worthy of being a writer, a person who is not tainted with blood. Dazai, if I die before seeing you one last time, I do not wish to end things between us on such terms. There is a lot I wish to tell you before I leave…

Dazai reads every word, eyes welling against his will, making the letters blur and scramble as one. Oda speaks of their time together, his fondest memories, his ideals- tells him he would’ve left a letter for Ango hadn’t it been for the circumstances. Tells him the name of his adopted children, the characteristics each of them had.

I, truly, have considered you one of them.

Oda informs him of how much he resembled a burnt black cat the first time they met, how he doesn’t seem as burnt now. Dazai chuckles wetly as Odasaku says that he’s happy he’d known him, even for a short while, even in their circumstances.

Whatever path you’ll choose after what occurs, please remember this:

The brunette suddenly hiccups, an ugly sound seldom forced out of him. He covers his mouth, finds his lips too shaky to form words, heart feeling more than all it had felt in almost half a decade-

“He said he’s proud of me, even before knowing I’d defect.” He isn’t sure why he’s whispering this to his partner, “He-” His cheeks feel wetter than before, to which he looks at his hand. Droplets of salt continue to fall on them so assertively, he thinks they might cause them to bleed,

“What is this- what have you done to me…?” Dazai knows he’s crying, he just doesn’t know why he can’t will himself to feel numb again. Everything is hazy and sloppy and wet, and he keeps the precious paper away, afraid it will get caught up in that uncontrollable mess…

“Do you hate it?” Chuuya asks faintly, with some regret in it. Dazai shakes his head, leaving the letter on the table-

“No, I don’t but- these monstrous things won’t stop.” He croaks as he wipes with both hands on his face, and to his horror the tears double, the sobs get even more violent, “I think I’ve been possessed, too…”

“Hey, come here…” Chuuya guides him through his fit, which Dazai blindly follows, till he finds himself with a weight on his laps and both arms and legs embracing him. Dazai latches back so tightly, trembling as he puts all of his force into the fists that both hit Chuuya lightly and grab the back of his shirt with. He doesn’t have to wipe the tears when Chuuya’s garment acts as a napkin, soaking every single thing he wishes to hide.

“He said he’s proud…” Dazai repeats, squeaks, burying his nose into the warmth of his partner.

“That he did.” Chuuya’s ungloved fingers caress his hair, and don’t stop until the persistent tears finally stop flowing. Dazai stays huddled in the warmth for more seconds despite himself, selfishly wishing to steal it all, before shifting to indicate his desire to draw away, and Chuuya instantly gets off of him.

He can’t bring himself to look at the azure pupils no matter how hard he tries, eyes shifting away to the table and the carpet and the hands on his lap.

It has been long since he’s felt this bare, much less over a gift. He had received many birthday presents in the last two years especially: Ranpo would give him all the sweets he could offer, Kenji crops from his field, Kyouka pretty daggers, Atsushi hugs and flowers, the Tanizaki siblings a cake of their making, Yosano fancy wine bottles, Kunikida would treat him to a meal, and Fukuzawa would orchestrate the whole party…

While it would all be appreciated, he never really felt any joy over being one year older. Most times he regrets ever living this long, so he doesn’t regard the gifts or parties done in his honor with as much gratefulness as he feels he’s supposed to.

But this? This one letter lying opened on the table?

It might be the best birthday gift he’d… ever received.

And he wants to let Chuuya know that.

“Uh.” What was he supposed to say again? What did normal people say in situations like this? Thank you? Sorry? “You’re… appreciable, slug.”

That was neither- what the fuck, brain??

Chuuya would have pointed his terrible attempt at being grateful out at any other day, but now he simply smiles relievedly,

“I’m glad you like it.”

This version of his partner is starting to prove that he isn’t so bad, after all.

Dazai frowns, still avoiding eye-contact, “No, um, what I mean is… mmmm….” He sinks so far in the couch, till only his head is reclining by the back of the seat. He crosses his arms and averts his face, physically forcing himself to say it, “tnks…” he whispers.

“Hm?”

It’s a beat, then Dazai roughly flops his head on Chuuya’s lap, because he can’t articulate his appreciation with words, and thus wants to show it by doing something Chuuya likes, which is having to look down to see Dazai instead of the other way around. He feels the other tense for a second before his hand reluctantly cups his brown hair in question.

“Thanks.” Dazai grits into Chuuya’s pants, then rolls on his back, finally meeting the amused blues, “Don’t get the wrong idea, demon, you won’t catch me saying this to the real Chuuya at all. But you get a pass. Only this once.”

“Might as well feel honored, huh?” Chuuya chuckles, and it’s truly genuine.

A small smile cracks Dazai’s face for a mere second. Wannabe-Chuuya is really more acquainted to handle these moments than regular Chuuya. It’s definitely why he waited for Dazai’s birthday to hand the letter to him– an excuse to show his raw and real care that Dazai undeservedly bathes himself in.

“So, do you want him back, now?”

Dazai doesn’t, but can't ever shed light on contradicting himself, so he dramatically says instead, “I’ll think about it.”

The redhead’s brow ridges, though not with his typical ‘I’m done with your bullshit’ frown. It’s with a smile.

He wonders when Chuuya ever learned to be this good of an actor.

Dazai feigns a long sigh, “Fine, you can stay a little longer…” then pauses, blinking upwards, “Wait- am I betraying real-Chuuya that way?”

“I’m sure he doesn’t mind.” Chuuya says as he strokes Dazai’s unkempt bangs away from his face.

Dazai’s mouth curls in displeasure because he likes it, “I hate you.”

“He hates you too, buddy.” It’s better to hear it in third person, like this part of Chuuya forever believes he is worth not being hated, “Wanna spend the rest of the day here or go somewhere else?”

“Energy’s gone, not-my-Chibi.” He twirls the long end of the fiery hair in a finger, “Outdoor activities will be a chore…”

Chuuya shakes his head and rolls his eyes in fondness, “This might be the lamest birthday setting ever.”

“That’s exactly right.” Dazai sneers, “But when were we ever conventional with the way we do things?”

“Touche. At least I got a cake and a candle.”

“Ugh, no. You know I hate formalities.”

They carry it out anyway, with Dazai ruining Chuuya’s attempts to sing properly, and Chuuya being patient through and through.  

His partner must have expected Dazai to want to stay home after receiving his gift, because they spend the next six hours doing everything Dazai likes– They play videogames, they cook and Dazai makes the kitchen an unsalvageable mess, they wildly dance together and stumble on their feet, they watch murder mysteries and brain rotting soap operas in a pillow fort, they play with cards and Chuuya loses every single time.

It's until there is fifteen minutes left till midnight, with Dazai getting his hair braided, that he finds himself glancing back with a devious idea in mind. Testing Chuuya’s willpower one last time wouldn’t hurt, would it…?

“Ah, so. I hate to admit it– who am I kidding, no I don't,” He gives an exaggerated winces as he glances back, “but I maybe, sorta bleached all your coats while you were in the restroom when I was mad at you.”

Chuuya pauses his braiding, staring at Dazai for a long while… then all of the veins on his body pop-

He gets yanked backwards by the hair, “Ow, OW!” Dazai laughs because finally, “My, Chuuya, you’re back sooner than expected!”

Chuuya grabs him in a chokehold, which Dazai tries to escape from, “I can’t fucking take it anymore,” He growls, and Dazai laughs even harder, “My coats? MY COATS, DAZAI?!”

“It’s tie-dye season! Never heard of tie-dye season?!” Dazai slips downwards, successfully scrambling away as Chuuya attempts to grab him but he isn’t fast enough-

“GET YOUR ASS BACK HERE!!”

Dazai's half-done braids bounce as he sprints, “Bring nice-Chuuya back first!!”

“SAY GOODBYE TO HIM FOREVER, BASTARD!”

“What?! Noooo, call me Osamu one last time!”

“IN YOUR WILDEST FUCKING DREAMS!!”

They pause the chase when Dazai’s behind the kitchen counter and Chuuya’s outside, if only to catch their breaths, “You know, if it weren’t for the fact that me being nice isn’t as effective on you, I’d have made it a staple on your birthday as well!”

Dazai grins evilly, as Chuuya pales.

“How would that go, again?” Dazai taps his chin, “Oh, Nakahara-Sama, You’re so smart and cool.” Chuuya’s face turns green, the piled urge to vomit since he’d started his act finally getting to him, “You are definitely not a dog and you’re actually the perfect height, goes nicely with your figure and strong build-“

“No, fuck! Euuugh!!!” Chuuya actively empties his stomach in a conveniently placed bucket, Dazai claps in victory,

“Aha! Maximum damage!!!” He points at him, “What comes around goes around, Slug!!”

“You’ll fucking pay for that!”

Chuuya breaks the door of the kitchen down, adding to the unhopeful mess Dazai’d made. Their wild goose chase keeps going till three in the morning.

And Dazai? Keeps laughing till all his heart’s content…

[newtthetranswriter]

Hi, I saw that your ATLA requests are open again! Could I get a Zuko x f/reader, where they were childhood best friends until he was banished? The reader joined the avatar after running away and now they meet again for the first time? And they kinda hate each other and fight but at the same time avoid hurting each other? Thanks!!

Word Count: 1388

Paring: Zuko x reader

Warnings: Canon typical violence, probably ooc zuko (it’s my first time writing for him)

A/n: I’m so sorry it took so long for me to finish this. I kept trying and had to rewrite it multiple times cause I wasn’t happy with how it was turning out, but I think it’s good now. I hope you enjoy and remember to hydrate or diedrate.

A/n2: I just wanted to add that I changed the timeline slightly. Zuko was still banished at 13 but instead of Aang being found when Zuko is 16, he’s found when Zuko is 18.  Also, yes I know they run into Zuko after the fortune teller episode but it was just the best spot I could work reader into joining the Team.

    Being the daughter of Ozai’s closest advisor gave some pretty great perks, like growing up alongside Prince Zuko. Zuko and I were as close as two friends could get, we would spend most of our time together avoiding Azula and feeding the turtle ducks. When we weren’t playing we were practicing our fire bending together, again being a high ranking advisor's kid got you a lot, including lessons with the royal families firebending  teachers. For the longest time it was me and Zuko against the world, but alas all good things come to an end. Shortly after we turned thirteen, Zuko was invited by his father to a war council meeting where he spoke up against a general’s plan. Having offended his father Zuko was subject to an Agni Kai where Ozai burned him and then banished the young prince, sending him on a wild goose chase for the Avatar.

    I tried to go with him but Zuko pushed me away telling me I need to stay safe in the walls of the Palace. I had, at the time, agreed, but after two years of watching the ‘Great Fire Nation’ destroy the world, I had enough. One night when I knew ships bound for the Earth Kingdom were docking to pick up new soldiers, I snuck out of my room in the palace with only a change of clothes and snuck onto one of the mini ships. I stayed hidden on the ship for days, sneaking food from the kitchen when it was empty at night. The first stop the ship made outside of the Fire Nation, I took my chance and fled into the Earth Kingdom.

   I spent three years moving around different villages in the Earth Kingdom, mostly avoiding any signs of the Fire Nation. If a village I had been staying in got attacked I would leave. It may sound bad but if I stayed to help, I’d only end up back in the Fire Nation and likely executed for treason so the best choice was to keep moving whenever they got close. Although that plan changed when rumors of the Avatar’s return started to surface. Taking the information as a sign to start fighting back, I packed up what little things I owned and left the town I had been staying in.

  Spending a few weeks following sightings of the Avatar hoping to catch up with him eventually. I miraculously managed to catch up with him and his friends when they were helping to protect a village from an erupting volcano. After assisting them, I explained that I had run away from the Fire Nation and wanted to help them end the war. It took a lot of convincing but they eventually agreed to let me join them on their journey to the Northern Watertribe.

   After a couple of weeks of flying, making stops for food and letting Appa rest, we eventually made it to the Northern Tribe. Not long after our arrival in the north, the Fire Nation attacked. After trying to take out the ships on his own, Aang decided he needed to go into the spirit world in search of help. Joining Aang, Katara, and Yue, I positioned myself near the entrance of the Spirit Oasis ready to be the first line of defense in case anyone tries to stop Aang. 

   I zoned out of the conversation Katara was having with the Princess as she was just explaining that as long as no one moved Aang’s body everything would be fine. Right as I was about to agree with Katara for saying we could protect him, I heard a voice that I thought I would never hear again.

   “Well, aren’t you a big girl now.” Sure, his voice was deeper and void of any emotion other than anger. I knew it was him. Moving closer to Katara, I motioned for Yue to run and continued to watch my old friend’s confrontation with my new friend. I could hear a quiet ‘no’ leaving Katara as she realized someone was here to take Aang. “Yes. Hand him over and I won’t have to hurt you.” Zuko said, getting in a fighting stance.

   Katara responded by also taking a fighting stance. Using the distraction of the two of them fighting I moved to place myself in front of Aang so no stray attacks could hit him. Normally when fighting firebenders I would step in, but seeing as it’s currently the night I know waterbending is more powerful and so I let Katara deal with Zuko. I watched in amazement as Katara used a wave of water to push Zuko up a wall and then freeze him there. 

   After trapping Zuko, Katara ran to make sure Aang was ok. While she was distracted, I felt a slight increase in energy come from my bending, knowing that it was likely day break I turned back to where Zuko had been trapped. “Katara stand back and keep an eye on him.” I said getting in my own fighting stance. She let out a confused sound as a blast of fire was sent directly at her. Acting quickly I deflected the attack.

  “You rise with the moon … I rise with the sun.” Zuko said not paying attention to the fact his attack missed.

   Taking his momentary pridefulness as an opening, I sent my own attack his way kicking a stream of fire at his legs effectively knocking him down. “So do I dipshit.” I said as he jumped back to his feet, confusion written across his face. “Surprised to see me? Now if you want to get to Aang you have to go through me.” Getting ready for a counter attack. When one didn’t happen I took another shot, sending a ball of fire towards him.

   Snapping out of his confusion, Zuko quickly deflected. “What are you doing here? You’re supposed to be safe, back in the Fire Nation.” He asked, not bothering to fight back. 

   “I haven’t been in the Fire Nation for three years, Zuko. I left after all that happened to you and then watching the Fire Nation kill thousands of innocent people, I couldn’t sit and watch them destroy the world for no reason.” I explained, sending attack after attack his way. “You of all people should understand that your father doesn’t care about the innocent lives lost and just wants to keep this war going.”

   Up until mentioning his father, Zuko only deflected my attacks. But as soon as the Fire Lord was mentioned, he sent his own volley of attacks my way, though for some reason it felt like he wasn’t giving it his all. “How dare you speak poorly about my father. He gave you so much, let you learn fire bending from the same masters who only teach royalty, let you live in his palace, and here you are saying he just wants an endless war.” 

   Rolling my eyes, I continued to send attacks his way. After what felt like hours, but was probably only twenty minutes, Zuko got the upper hand. He sent a well timed blast at my stomach as I was trying to catch my breath. It wasn’t strong enough to burn or leave any lasting damage but just enough to knock what little air I had out of my lungs and send me tumbling to the ground. While I was down I heard Katara start to fight back but it was quickly followed by the sound of her also hitting the ground. Still trying to catch my breath I sat up and watched as Zuko grabbed Aang and ran.

   When Sokka and Yue entered the Oasis, I couldn’t help but feel that it was my fault Aang was taken. I listened as Katara explained that we had both tried to fight him off but he got the upper hand and knocked us both down. When Sokka turned to look at me, I just shook my head. Not wanting to face the fact they all now knew I have history with Zuko and were probably thinking I pulled my punches because of it. Turning away from the group as they decided it was best to go after him and find Aang, I declined, not wanting to be caught pulling my punches against Zuko again.

[tht0nesimp]

Expectations

tw: kidnapping, pet play, this is actually half baked, punishments, shal being a dick, infantilism

A/N: this is for @high-bats-writing! Sorry this fic is probably going to be really crappy! (P.S you should totally go read the inspiration for this post < https://www.tumblr.com/high-bats-writing/746620115972440065/happy-easter-hiiii-in-the-headcanons-you-did?source=share

Out of everything you’d been tested with by him, this took the cake, it took the whole fucking bakery.

you’d handled everything he threw at you but this was simply too much, spending years trying to stay away from everything trackable was hard but knowing it was all just in vain because you were nevertheless trapped in his hands again? The knowledge of knowing your efforts weren’t worth anything in the end was devastating.

“Smile!” His cheery attitude becoming a frown when you used your—thankfully free—hands to shield your face from the camera he had in his hands

“It’s fine, I guess, we’ll have plenty of time to get a photo of you in there after all! Won’t we?” His smile didn’t quite reach his eyes when he spoke, encouraging your silence as he continues “you escaped for 2 years? How long do you think I should keep you in there?”

normally you would avoid showing weakness to him, but you couldn’t stop the widening of your eyes “I-I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done what I did” he tilted his head “You don’t have to be sorry, you showed me your true colors!” He chuckled

As he placed a dragging finger down a bar on the cage, you shuddered; quickly finding purchase under one of the plentiful blankets in the cage, one thing you couldn’t complain about was the near suffocating amount of warmth in the normally cold house—well, cold from what you remember from 2 years ago…

Alas, the blankets didn’t protect you from the hand that found your head. Petting your hair reminiscent of petting an animal after it did something silly, something stupid, but something endearing enough to make its owner remain entertained.

And you suppose that may be what he sees you as at the end of the day, a shivering animal used to biting to show affection. Used to having to weakly fight, the only real difference being that your owner in this situation had no intention of saving you

He kept his eyes focused on you, seeing your foot brush against the bowl at the bottom of the cage seeming to remind him “I told myself I’d make you beg, but we can start that tomorrow along with your reeducation. I’ll go fill that up”

he disappeared for a brief moment, before returning with the small bowl full of water, making you reluctantly remember the leaky faucet in the kitchen, wondering he’d ever fixed it like your told him to.

The smile that graced his feature when you saw him crush some form of pill into the clear surface of the water was incriminating alone, but looking at the small off-color dissolving particles in the water was enough to deter away your want to fix the aching thirst in your throat in the moment

Even as you expected some type of negative reaction from your apprehension, he just kept talking. Seemingly excited at getting the chance to act out a fantasy especially after losing you for so long.

his words only proved to spur on a waterfall of unfortunate thoughts, melancholy and upsetting, as they flowed through your mind; wanting to overflow into something more.

“Why are you drugging me?” The words came out weaker than what you might hope, almost dying on your tongue. “Not drugs, just vitamins since I don’t plan on feeding you all too much while you’re down here. Lest it’s like an animal, animals have to work for their food!” He clapped like a child at the zoo “but I don’t want you to be malnourished”

Comfort was never his strong suit, but in the moment it seemed believable enough to allow yourself to indulge in the clear liquid resting in the bowl at the bottom of—dare you say it—your cage

you took a sip of the water, diving your head down as you figured he might not have a great reaction at you trying to pick it up to drink it.

you struggled to drink a sufficient amount, settling for the small sip you were able to get from the bedazzled bowl, almost grateful you hadn’t noticed the “disobedient slut” in pink rhinestones on the front up until you pulled away due to your slight frenzy.

“You’re a natural” he muttered under his breath, getting a quick photo before his phone rang “must be troupe work! Be a good doll and stay right there for me”

you just hoped he wouldn’t be gone too long, after all, 2 years is a long time to spend alone.

Shal chuckled when he heard the slight sigh that left your chapped lips when he left the room, 2 years is a long time to spend alone, and a maddening time to spend with a monster—especially one like him.

[thebibliosphere]

Hello Joy! If you're up for it, I've got a question for you. I've started writing a new story that I set in a world based on 1500's Scotland and I wanted the main characters to have Scottish accents, but alas I am from the American Midwest. Do you know of any resources or any people who could help me write my dialogue more accurately?

There are some resources for Scots English (like the the DSL), but I’m going to give you the advice I wish a lot of non-Scots people would use when it comes to writing historical Scottish accents: don’t.

The Scots language is not a monolith, and accents and dialect to this day vary greatly depending on region.

Most of the time even with research, what happens is a butchery of our language which borders on parody (sometimes even amped up by publishers because they want the Outlander effect) and is neither correctly spelled nor even phonetically accurate. A better way of writing accents/dialogue (and the way I tend to do it myself even when writing this sort of thing) would be to use regional and tone indicators.

So things like “he spoke with the broad, sweeping brogue of the lower west coast” or “her manner of speaking quickened with excitement, thickening her accent.”

If you want to use some Scots words, you can do so. Just make sure you look them up in the DSL and spell them correctly instead of making up your own.

A common phrase I like to use as an example for how to inject some Scots words into the dialect without murdering it would be the often very sarcastic “oh aye, so you think so?”

It’s a phrase often used when someone is blustering or maybe being a wee bit rude. Sort of like saying “oh really?” As you invite someone to keep digging their own grave.

I’ve seen it spelled every which way from “och aye, di’ye ‘ink sew?” (Pure jibberish, don’t do that) to the slightly more legible if not entirely accurate, “oh aye, dae ye think soe?”

Another could be something like, “oh aye, he’s muckle canny” to mean “oh yes, he’s very smart.” I’ve seen all of those words misspelled at one point, the most memorable being “och aye ‘e’s mochel cannae” which is just…

Canny is smart/capable while cannae means you can’t do something. (And muckle can be spelt mochell if you want to but some modern Scots readers will squint at it)

I tried explaining that what the author had written was the equivalent of “yes. he’s very can’t” but she wouldn’t listen and it went to print anyway. Agony.

Anyway, I mentioned the DSL up top so I suppose I should link to it.

Most of the recorded words there are from 17th century onward. There is an option to search prior to that, though it is limited.

There are surviving texts from the 1500s, though unless you want your work to be readable by a limited few, I wouldn’t try to imitate it. It’s mostly written in archaic Scots that’d be illegible to even modern Scottish readers.

If it’s something you intend to go to print with, I’d also suggest hiring a Scots sensitivity reader. They can make sure there’s nothing glaringly obvious with misspellings and also if they know their history, point out where something is off.

My favorite is when Scottish historical stories have potato scones in the 11th century, which begets the concept of agricultural time travelers, but alas, it’s never that interesting and just a factual error.

Anyway, I hope that was helpful and not discouraging. Please do write your story. Just don’t fall down the Outlander trap of writing nonsense and trying to pass it off as a language that still exists and for which there is recognized meanings and spelling. Which it sounds like you want to do, so yay! Thank you for wanting to be considerate and as accurate as can be.

[universitypenguin]

Hello Alice! Lloyd and princess have been living in my head rent free lately 😍 and it’s got me thinking (please no pressure ever to answer any of my silly little asks!) what do you think princess would do/how would she feel after all this time apart and after everything that’s been going on if she thought Lloyd had sleep with someone else during this time apart?

Thank you for sharing your stories with us! I’m so excited for what’s next to come with these two❤️

Author’s Note: @drabblewithfrannybarnes 🥰

Thank you so much for this lovely ask! I wish I was a faster writer, but alas… that will never be my lot in life. 😭 Instead of doing Kinktober, I’ve been working on improving my short story skills this month, which led to me revising this several times. And by revising I actually mean starting from scratch three times in a row.

I’d challenged myself to keep trying until I had gotten it just right, so it was very satisfying to look at this draft and realize I was finally happy with it. Thank you so much for motivating me to write this, please enjoy! 💙🩵🤍

If He Wanted To, He Would…

“Hey Princess? Can you fix my phone?”

You were stirring honey into your tea, watching the clump slowly dissolve, when Lloyd made his request. He stood by the door wearing athletic shorts and a blue quarter zip, frowning at his phone.

“I thought you were going on a run.”

Lloyd grunted, tapping the screen. The line between his eyebrows appeared.

If this phone issue prevented him from going on his run you were going to lose your mind. Thanks to the stalker situation, your alone time was extremely limited. Only when Lloyd jogged the trail encircling the cabin were you allowed the luxury of complete solitude. He jogged three times a week and each excursion guaranteed you at least an hour of alone time. Without these breaks you’d go insane.

“Why don’t you take my phone instead?”

“My email isn’t synching. I’m trying to make sure the email I sent to Bishop went through.”

“I’ll fix it. Here, you can use my phone.”

Lloyd scowled at the offending device. “I didn’t even mess with it this time. Why is it doing this?”

You held out your phone. “Just take mine.”

“Do you think it’s the wifi?” Lloyd asked.

“You can borrow my AirPods, too,” you said.

“I never run with headphones in and neither should you.”

“That’s something you will never, ever, have to worry about.”

Lloyd smirked as he exchanged phones with you. “Right, I forgot who I was talking to. Good luck with that thing, I’ll see you in an hour or so.”

When he was gone you collapsed on the couch. Finally, the sanctity of solitude. You basked in the silence for a minute before turning your attention to repairing his phone. There were no issues in the app settings or the phone settings, so you tried restarting it. After clearing the cached data, you removed his account and added it again, without success. Then you updated the app and, much to your relief, the email finally synched.

You’d just finished the installation and locked his phone when it buzzed. A text appeared on his lock screen, visible in the preview window.

Don’t worry about Michael. He isn’t the jealous type.

You stared at the message, baffled, like a puppy encountering its reflection for the first time, perplexed by the inexplicable sight. Who was Michael? Perhaps some context would help. You opened the message app and scrolled back through his previous messages with the sender, April Ward.

Their first message was dated about two weeks ago, right after Lloyd had returned from Idaho.

Seeing you on Friday… I love you… don’t worry about Michael… he isn’t the jealous type…

April Ward was his ex-girlfriend. What had happened between them in Idaho?

You hadn’t questioned the limited contact you’d had with him at the time, but now it felt like a huge red flag. Your stomach twisted into knots.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Twenty-five minutes had passed. Lloyd would be home soon and you still didn’t know what you were going to say. Your thoughts were chaotic. You felt naive, foolish, and gullible.

You had believed he was grieving and settling his father’s affairs. You had assumed he was too busy to call you or that his phone was out of service range. You were such a sucker. Hurt and anger vied for dominance inside of you, but neither gained enough ground to claim victory. The emotions were deadlocked and trapped in the middle of them, all you felt was numb.

Distantly, you recognized that you were in shock. Of course you were in shock. It was a shocking development. This wasn’t the Lloyd you knew. He’d never let you down before. In spite of his rough edges, he was always honest with you, even when it came to difficult topics; especially when it came to difficult topics.

How had he become this person, someone capable of such an ugly betrayal? When had your best friend turned into your enemy?

You didn’t hear the creak of the door’s hinges, but at Lloyd’s voice, your head snapped up. Your lip curled into a snarl.

Lloyd stopped short. “Princess? What’s wrong?”

“Who’s April Ward?”

His nostrils flared as he inhaled through his nose.

“She’s a veterinarian who treated a sick calf for me a few weeks ago. Why?”

“Liar. April is your ex, I read your texts.”

“Princess, it’s not what you think-”

You hissed. “Stop! Stop lying to me! You cheated, didn’t you?! Just admit it!”

“I’m not lying!”

Without thinking, you flung the phone at him. Lloyd ducked and it hit the wall, then clattered to the floor.

“Calm down!” Lloyd barked.

“No! Tell me what happened!”

“It wasn’t on purpose-”

“You slept with her by accident?! Come on!”

“I didn’t cheat, Princess! Listen to me! I didn’t intend to see April. There was a sick calf, so I called the vet, who turned out to be my highschool girlfriend.”

“And then you slept with her.”

Lloyd snarled. “I didn’t sleep with her.”

“I don’t believe you!”

“I’m telling you the truth!”

Your chin lifted. “She cares about you.”

“We dated in highschool, okay? That’s all. For the record, the last time I slept with her, you weren’t even alive!”

“Are you insulting my age, or yours?”

Lloyd threw his hands up. “Neither. Forget I said that. Here’s what happened on Friday: I called for a vet and April showed up. She treated the calf, we had a drink in the kitchen and talked for a few hours. When we finished talking she went home.”

“What are you leaving out of this story?”

“Nothing!”

“Did you have sex in the kitchen?”

“There was no sexual contact, there was barely even physical contact!”

You zeroed in on his last point. “Ha! So you did something with her, didn’t you?!”

“There was a kitchen table between us for 90% of the evening. She reached across it and touched my hand while we were talking. Later, I hugged her goodbye. That was the extent of our physical contact.”

His delivery was fluid. The words were crisp and his tone of voice was even. That should have comforted you. Instead, it made you even more suspicious.

“Princess, I can only tell you this in so many ways: nothing happened. Believing it is up to you.”

“If nothing happened, then why didn’t you tell me that you’d seen her?”

“I don’t like talking about that period of my life… and… maybe because I didn’t know how to approach the subject.”

You stared at Lloyd, torn between doubt and trust.

He sighed. “I know it looks bad. If our roles were reversed, I’d react the same way, but I swear it was nothing more than old friends catching up.”

“Fine. I believe you.”

He looked relieved for a split second before you continued.

“But keeping this from me was a betrayal in itself.”

“I’m sorry,” Lloyd said.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

You were still curled up in the rocking chair on the porch when dusk faded into night. As a concession to the dropping temperature, you’d draped a blanket around your shoulders. The nights were getting colder as autumn approached.

If he wanted to, he would. If he wanted to, he could.

You’d always considered Lloyd to be honest, at least with you, before today. Now you wondered about the veracity of that assumption. As you examined your reasoning, the uncomfortable truth crystallized. Lloyd was capable of cheating on you. He was certainly sneaky enough. Keeping secrets and guarding his emotions were Lloyd’s greatest strengths. He was a master in the art of lying. Half-truths, omissions, fabrications, he could do it all and conventional ethics didn’t mean much to him. He lied as easily as other people breathed - those were the cold, hard facts.

Reality slapped you in the face, unraveling the sense of trust you’d previously had in Lloyd. In an abstract way, you’d always known he was ruthless, but now you appreciated how easily he could rip your heart out if he wanted to. Him wanting to wasn’t even a requirement, all it would take was a moment of carelessness.

You didn’t know what you were feeling more: hurt, anger, or fear. Each emotion claimed a part of your heart, splitting it into three equal pieces. The feelings swirled, a vortex of negative thoughts that sucked you into a whirlpool of despair. Your mood dropped as quickly as the temperatures. Soon, chilly air nipped at your nose and ears. You drew the blanket tighter in an effort to conserve warmth.

The door creaked and you heard Lloyd’s footsteps approaching, but you didn’t acknowledge him.

“It’s getting cold, Princess. You need to come inside.”

You ignored him.

“Princess…”

You burrowed into the blanket, silently declaring your intent to remain where you were.

Lloyd sighed. “I don’t know what to say, other than I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“Too late,” you muttered.

“I can’t change the past, but I can give you access to my phone if you want. Is that a reasonable compromise?”

You turned to him, frowning.

“The problem isn’t access, Lloyd. I have that already. The problem is that I don’t want to keep you on a leash, I just want to trust you. Think about it from my point of view - if I’m going to have a meltdown every time one of your exes shows up, I’m in for a bad time.”

“April is my only ex-girlfriend,” Lloyd said.

“So, we’re back to lying, are we? I’m trying to meet you halfway, but if you keep-”

“She is, damn it! I never wanted a relationship before. You know I’m telling the truth, Princess. You were my closest friend for the past three years. When was my last relationship?”

Abruptly, the weight of evidence tilted in his favor. Your thrumming pulse slowed to a steady beat. Lloyd moved closer.

“Come on, Princess, you’re freezing. Let’s go inside.”

You shook your head. “I want to believe you, but I know how easily you can bend the truth.”

“Actions speak louder than words,” Lloyd countered. “I’ve already synced my messaging app to your personal laptop and shared my location with you. If you let me, I’ll prove that you can trust me.”

He extended his hand and you hesitated, but took it and let him pull you to your feet. You let him lead you inside to the sofa, where he laid a throw blanket over your legs.

“You haven’t said whether you’ll give me a second chance,” he said.

You twisted your hands in your lap.

“I know that I misinterpreted your messages to April. That said, I’m not letting you off the hook for withholding information that would’ve put them in context. The root of the issue is that if you decided to cheat on me, I probably wouldn’t notice. You’re sly enough to get away with almost anything, if you set your mind to it.”

“Alright, but let’s take another factor into consideration,” Lloyd said. “The pool of women who actually want to sleep with me after they realize I’m an asshole is smaller than you think.”

“Oh, please. Give me a break, women drool over your ass every day.”

“Before they talk to me. Now, if we consider the pool of men who want to sleep with you… it’s large to begin with and once they get to know you, they’re even more interested.”

You snorted. “Should I sync my messaging app to your laptop?”

“No need, I already know your passwords. Are we good?”

“We’re not bad. I wouldn’t go as far as calling us ‘good,’ though.”

Lloyd nuzzled your temple. “I was telling the truth about April being my only ex-girlfriend.”

“It’s hard to believe, but… it tracks. I know you’re not used to explaining yourself, but if this arrangement between us is going to work, you need to.”

He relaxed. “I can do that.”

You snuggled into his chest, basking in the warmth you found there. His broad palm stroked up and down your spine and within a few minutes you were nodding off.

“How many ex-boyfriends do you have?” Lloyd asked.

Your eyes flew open. “Um… why?

“I just want to know how worried I should be.”

“You don’t need to be worried.”

“That’s not an answer, Princess.”

You licked your lips. “How far back do you want to go? Kindergarten? Middle-school?”

Lloyd scowled. “Kindergarten? How many boys are we talking about here?”

“I…” you broke off. “Hold up, how did we get on this topic?”

“That’s not important,” Lloyd said. “How many boys have you dated?”

You sat up. “That isn’t what you asked me. You wanted to know how many ex-boyfriends I had, not how many boys I’ve dated. Those are two different topics.”

His lips compressed. “Fine, then. How many boys have you dated?”

“I guess about…ugh…” You covered your face, groaning. “Do we have to do this? Trust me, you’re better off not knowing. My dating history is cringe-worthy.”

“I want a number, Princess.”

You sucked in a breath through your teeth. “I might need some scratch paper…”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

The End.

I hope you enjoyed it! Reblogs, likes, and comments are all appreciated and welcomed!

Masterlist

[backtothefanfiction]

All The Good Girls Go To Hell | TF!Boys Mafia AU~ Part ONE

Summary: When Phoenix comes home to find her fiancé banging some other girl, her whole life changes seemingly overnight. Forced to go back and live with her Dad, she's about to be dragged into a life with the men her Dad is indebted to.

Warnings: 18+ ONLY (Mature Content), Dark Mafia Romance Au, setting things on fire, swearing, dead parent, debt, mental health issues, brain tumour, broken family, anger issues (female rage), AFAB OFC, objectification of the female body, pyromania, little bit of theft (smut to come)

Word Count: 3.8K

A/N: I didn't need to have yet another idea for a story. I also didn't need to write it straight away, but I recently read Den of Vipers and figured I could do something better featuring the Triple Frontier boys. I don't know how many parts of this there will be, or how regularly this will ultimately be updated, but I thought I'd share anyway. Smut will come, featuring all four guys this time. This will use an ofc but apart from the hair, there aren't too many descriptors. This will also be written from multiple characters points of view throughout to keep things interesting. Enjoy!

ONE

PHEONIX

My fingers itch as I grip the steering wheel tighter. I should have worn gloves, I say to myself as I drop one hand from the wheel and rub it vigorously against my torn jeans, hoping the friction from the denim will- at the very least- satiate the itch left behind from the lighter fluid long enough for me to get to the next gas station, so I can stop in and wash my hands properly.

It was reckless of me really- the whole damn thing. My brothers taught me better than this, but then again, everyone said I had a temper that was only second to Archie’s in my family- so I’m really not that surprised. People say my Dad used to be equally hot headed before he got remarried to Marina and took over the club, but I’ve still yet to see it- even after all the shit me and my brothers have pulled over the years. It’s like after our Mother died he just gave up. But I don’t blame him. I would too if I lost the love of my life to a fucking disease like that. I had barely known her anyway, so I didn’t really notice all that much when the brain tumor turned her into a “literal monster”, as my older brothers used to so fondly call her when she was on one of her rampages.

I’d always said that my only real memory of her was when she tried to burn down the house by settling alight to the curtains in their bedroom. I remember we all stood out on the front grass as the smoke billowed out of the windows and mixed with the night air. Archie stood on my right holding one of my hands, E.Z stood on my left holding the other. Maybe that’s why I’ve always had a thing for fire myself. Messing about with lighters, setting things on fire- all so I can try and understand that night… At least, that’s what a therapist would probably say.

My Dad tried to make me go to one once, after I ended up burning down the whole science block at my school at 16, but alas, that never happened. Which is why I’m probably still using fire as a coping method after all these years.

My phone is blowing up by the time I reach the nearest gas station. I scan the messages from my brothers over quickly as I pull into the lot.

Deano: Heard what you did, I’d say he fucking deserved it.

Archie: Dad is pissed. Gonna try to calm him down before he does something stupid.

E.Z: Seriously, Phe, again! Dad is gonna be so pissed.

Leo: Just heard about your latest work, props little sis, I think your balls might be even bigger than Dean’s.

Rolling my eyes, I shove my phone in the glove box as it begins to buzz again. Uhh, I really don’t want or need a lecture right now about how I should or should not have acted upon finding my fiance in bed with another woman. Did I over react… by some people’s standards- maybe. But did I also live out every woman’s fantasy of dousing the bed in lighter fluid and striking a match whilst they were still in the bed… yes- yes I did- and do I give two fucks about any repercussions? Absolutely- fucking- not. Because there won’t be. Never have been. My Dad works for some of the most powerful men in the city- and I’m not talking about the Governor or the Mayor. No- someone will send some money over to keep them sweet and in a couple days time, everything will go back to normal.

I scrub at my hands with the shitty cheap soap in the tiny cubicle inside the gas station to the point the giant rock, still on my finger, almost slips off and down the drain. It’s the first time I’ve thought about it. I’ve been wearing it so long, it’s just an extension of my hand at this point. What am I gonna do with it? I mean- it’s worth a fucking fortune. Freddie was fucking loaded after all. None of it fucking his mind you. His Dad was a close business partner for the same guys my Dad worked for. Let’s just say, crime pays and his Dad has made so much money over the years working for Santiago Garcia and his crew, Freddie has never had to lift a single finger, let alone do a days work, to get what he wants.

I grab a handful of shitty paper towels, drying off my hands and the ring, holding it up to the fluorescent bathroom light. Uhhh it wasn’t even my style. I hate diamonds, they’re so basic and boring. Give me a massive fuck off ruby or saphire anyday. 

Still unsure what to do with it, I tuck it into the back pocket of my jeans before assessing how I look in the mirror. It’s like waking up from the weirdest dream and not recognising yourself. I look at my blonde hair in the mirror, the plain white t-shirt covering my breasts. I look like one of those young Barbie, trophy wife wannabe types. Where did the color and fun go? He drained it all out of me.

In college, when I met Freddie, I had pink in my hair and always had on something bright. At least my ripped jeans still have some character. 

Exiting out back onto the shop floor, I grab myself a large bag of cheetos and a cherry icee- that's as big as my head- from the machine in the back. As I place the large bag of cheesy puffs on the counter, I take a large sip of my drink, before placing that too on the counter, reaching for a pair of bright yellow heart sunglasses on a display next to the cashier.

“What d’ya think?” I ask the portly man behind the counter, who’s polo shirt doesn’t look or smell like it’s been washed for at least two weeks with its armpit stains and ranch dressing smear on the front.

It’s obvious he’s trying to come across as if he’s not checking out my whole body as he looks at me, but his eyes scan lower than my face, falling on the V neck of my t-shirt and my breasts for a hint too long. I flash him a sickly sweet smile as I take the sunglasses off my face and hook them into my shirt where his eyes seem to linger instead. “How about now?” I ask.

He quickly clears his throat as he looks back to the register. “Uhhh, yes- Yes- I think they suit you, yes.” he rambles and I can’t help but laugh. Men like that were always so predictable.

I reach for the icee taking another sip and try to school my features when I get brain freeze. “With the sunglasses,” he says, “16 bucks.” I sigh, but fish a couple notes out my back pocket and hand them over, just as my eyes land on a lighter covered in black and white harlequin print. My fingers instantly reach for it.

I turn the lighter over and over again in my fingers before flipping the top of it open and striking up a flame, my eyes getting lost in its amber glow as it sways hypnotically back and forth. It instantly takes me back to not 20 minutes ago and Fred and the girl’s screams, as the bed covers went up in flames and they both shot out from underneath them as he screamed about how much of a psycho I was. 

The ding of the till draw brings me back to the present and I flick the lighter closed. “Oh, and I’m taking this as payment for you oggling me.” I smile at the balding cashier, as I pocket the lighter and grab my bits off the counter.

I can hear him calling after me, “HEY, COME BACK HERE! YOU NEED TO PAY FOR THAT!” but I just laugh and take another sip of the slush and place the sunglasses back on my head.

As I walk back to my car, I notice a bum, sitting in the shade of the wall at the back corner of the station. As I look at him, I can feel the weight of the ring in my back pocket, dragging me towards him. Hey, the ring might not have changed my life, but it doesn’t mean it can’t change someone else’s life.

“Hey.” I say, lifting the yellow sunglasses on top of my head so I can meet his eyes. “Catch.” I toss him the ring. It sparkles as it hits the afternoon sun and I know from the look on his eyes as it makes contact with his fingers, he feels like he just won the lottery. “Pawn it. Get whatever you want with it, I don’t care.” I say as I begin to turn away from him and back to my car.

“Uh-thank you.” he says at first in shock, “Thank you.” he says again, a little more confidently now.

“Don’t mention it.” I shout back to him as I unlock my car with a chirp and climb back inside. 

I open the bag of cheetos, taking one and popping it in my mouth, before dumping them on the passenger seat and reaching to open the glove box, taking my phone back out.

7 more texts from my brothers and 5 missed calls from my Dad; with a final text saying:

DAD: Get your ass home. NOW!

Well, that does it then. I guess I’m going back to the old family home.

I start the engine, shuffling through the radio stations until I find something I like. When I hear the opening riff for Britney Spears’ Toxic, I stop and whack the volume all the way up. My tires screech as I speed out of the forecourt. I sing at the top of my lungs all the way home.

☆

I’m not through the door five seconds when E.Z is trying to usher me back out again. He’s always been the softer one. Third born. The middle child. Always overlooked, but still always trying to appease everyone.

“Dad is pissed.” He says, when he meets me in the foyer. After Mom tried to burn the house down, the place got remodeled. My Dad had to sell his soul to the devil to do it, but it meant we got to stay in our family home. Well, sort of. 

The whole left side of the house needed rebuilding, which meant they got to extend it out a bit more. We lost the basketball court the boys liked to play on, but it meant they finally got their own rooms so they didn’t mind. 

“I know.” I say to E.Z, waving my phone in his face with one hand, while I take a sip of my icee with the other. 

“Give me that.” He says, snatching the drink from my hand, the contents within the straw almost going everywhere as he rips it straight from my mouth. “This is serious Phe, Andy,” Freddie’s dad, “has already been on the phone making threats. You know how important he is for the business. He’s threatening to cut off the club’s supplies.”

“And….” I shrug, before reaching to take back the large cup in his hands. He merely moves it further out of my reach. “Look, I’m sure the guys who own the place have other connections he can use.”

“You sure about that?” My brother presses, raising his eyebrows and looming over me.

“Oh come on, you telling me those four wannabe goodfellas bozos, haven’t got some other dipshit on their payroll to import and export shit for them off record to help keep club costs down.” 

E.Z’s face is a picture. Eyes wide, face serious. It’s clear from his expression and his mouth that keeps gaping like a fish as he tries to get a word in, that he thinks I should shut up. “What!?” I hiss at him, but as I’ve been ranting and raving, I haven’t heard the second set of feet that have made their way through the front door into the foyer. E.Z’s face turns pale as he looks behind me to the figure and back.

“Oh no, don’t stop on my account.” A forced casual voice comes from behind me.

I turn my head and follow the voice to one of the most gorgeous men I have ever laid eyes on. All tanned skin and dark curly hair, a smattering of grays mixed in- the only hint to his age. I frown as a familiarity falls over me, but I can’t quite place from where. “I’m sorry- do I know you?”

He slides his fingers into his trouser pockets, his foot tapping slightly as he looks me up and down. “Oh you know, I’m just one of those bozos who’s now having to help clear up your mess.”

Before I have a chance to respond, my Dad and Archie step out of his office at the end of the hall. “PHEONIX!” My Dad’s voice bellows and I blanche, maybe that anger isn’t as far away as I thought. 

I turn away from the stranger in his Armani suit by the front door, to my Dad, flashing him my sweetest smile. “Hi, Dadd-”

“Uh- No!” He says, holding up a hand to stop me, “Don’t you dare-” He stops as he spots the other gentleman in the foyer. “Pope.” He says, his demeanor growing lighter as he greets the man who actually owns his ass.

“What kind of name is Pope?” I hiss to E.Z under my breathe, but he just nudges me to shut up.

“David… Archie…” Pope nods his head to the two men. “Shall we talk in your office.” He says, nodding back down the hall behind him.

“Uh- yes. Yes.” My Dad says nervously, turning his body to indicate for him to follow him back, before shooting me a stern look, telling me to behave and that this was far from over.

“Pheonix.” Pope nods to me as he passes, a faint smirk in the corner of his mouth and a look in his eye that I could only describe as fascination. But it quickly disappears again as he turns back to my Dad.

As the door to my Father’s office closes, my brother begins to ferry me towards the stairs. “I’d get up there and stay out of trouble if I were you.” He warns. 

I roll my eyes at him before I slip the yellow, heart shaped sunglasses, down over them with annoyance, snatching back my icee, before I stomp upstairs- as usual, out of sight, out of mind.

~

POPE

“Mr Garcia, I am so sorry for my daughters behavior. I really had thought she’d grown out of this,” David Leacher says, as I sit myself down in one of the leather armchairs in his office. “And I never thought she would do something like this that would put your well balanced business in jeopardy.”

I fain disinterest about the subject, because really, it doesn’t actually bother me all that much at all. Sure Andy is a bit pissed now on behalf of his son, but from what I hear, if you’re gonna go sneaking around behind your soon to be Mrs' back and she finds out, you kinda get what your asking for. To be fair, I gotta give the little lady props; it takes real guts to dump lighter fluid on a guy and strike the match, regardless of the consequences. 

“… I just don’t know what to do with her.” David says, slumping back in his chair behind his desk with a large glass of bourbon in his hand. 

“And this is why I never got married and had kids.” I say, giving him a tight lipped smirk. There’s an awkward pause between us, the only sound in the room, the ice clinking in David’s glass as he takes another nervous sip, his hand shaking slightly in anticipation, waiting for the slap on the wrist he thinks is about to come. “Look David, I’ll get to the point, Andy wants compensation for the money he’s already forked out for the wedding.” David puts his drink down and begins rubbing his temples as if this whole ordeal is giving him a headache. 

He sighs, turning to me, an earnest look in his eye, “Pope,” he says softly- imploringly- “you know I don’t have the money for that-“

“I know.” I say, cutting him off. “That’s why, we’ve decided to franchise Medusa’s. We are going to acquire two more clubs, you’ll get a pay rise and oversee all three venues, to help cover the costs. We get more money coming in through the clubs, you get more money to pay off Andy- everyone’s a winner.” 

The look of relief on David’s face is a picture. “Oh thank you, Pope- uh Mr Garcia.” He says, as his whole body seems to let out a very long breath that he had been keeping tight in his body, probably since the first call he got this afternoon about his daughter’s antics. “Thank you, thank you.” He seemingly pants.

“Look Dave, you’re a good guy- a loyal guy-“ I say honestly, “you work hard, you run Medusa’s well. Profits have been up 30% since you took over. I’m not gonna jeopardize that over some silly tiff between a couple kids.”

“No, no… thank you.” He says quietly, acknowledging my words as I continue to speak.

“Whether this had happened or not, we were going to come to you with this proposal this week anyway. Help you pay off your debt to us quicker too- you know.”

“Yes… thank you, Pope. Thank you.”

“Very well then.” I nod to him. “I’ll call Andy, let him know everything is settled.”

“Thank you, Pope, thank you.” He says again. 

David is a good man- a loyal man. He runs our most popular club well, but it was a real shame how soft he had gone in his old age. Ever since he lost his wife, he’s never been the same. Then he married that wannabe wag Marina- who does nothing but spend the rest of what little money he has coming in after he repays some of his debt to us- and walks all over him. Back in the day he had really made a name for himself bare knuckle boxing. They used to call him The Reaper because he could knock a man out with a single blow that brought a man close to death; but nowadays he’d barely hit a fly. This was yet another reason I never settled down and did the whole wife and kids thing- it made you soft.

Still didn’t stop his little girl from being as tough as nails and crazy to boot- but when the only female role models you had growing up were a Mother with a brain tumor that made her- to be polite- unhinged; and then Marina, it's no wonder she’s ended up as she has. She bounced around three different boarding schools in her teens. By the third school- after she had burnt down the science block at the second school- we had to write a fairly hefty donation cheque, in order to get her in. Just another number added to David’s bill to be repaid.

Although he had initially approached us looking for work in order to pay off his wife’s medical bills and then to redo the house after she had burnt half of it down, most of the money he’s borrowed from us over the years has been for Phoenix. Frankie, Will and myself have spent many a night around the table with a drink in our hands speculating on why he continues to bail her out and put himself in more debt to protect her. We’ve long come to assume it’s probably because of guilt. That she was robbed of a proper Mother. Cursed to have a weak Father. If she had been my kid, I would have tossed her ass out on the curb a long time ago and told her to deal with her own shit if she wanted to keep behaving the way she has over the years.

To be fair though, after she met Freddie, we thought she’d finally straightened out- or at least she had become Fred’s problem and he was dealing with it. She stopped going to the clubs. Started wearing more grown up clothing that matched her age. Began running with Freddie and his older friends. But I guess it was only a matter of time and you know what they say- a leopard never changes their spots.

I’m halfway to the door, ready to leave, when David stops me. “Umm, Pope.” He says tentatively. I slowly turn myself back to him, ready to hear his request, even though he’s in no place to be making requests right now after I’ve just bailed his ass out for the fifteenth time. “I was just wondering…” he continues hesitantly, “seeing as Phoenix and Freddie are no longer together, she’ll probably need an actual job of her own now…” I can almost feel myself rubbing at my temples, knowing the question that was about to come out of his mouth. It’s the same question that had come when all of his son’s came of age and needed a job… but this time is different- and we both know it.

Phoenix isn’t like her brothers. Where they are able to be mature and step up and follow orders, she most definitely can not. I’ve seen enough of her school reports over the years to know what kind of employee she’d be. When David had asked about getting the boys jobs, it had been a no brainer. Each one of them had a build similar to their father in his hay day, perfect for a bit of muscle and extra protection in the club. But a job in Medusa’s for Phoenix would be behind the bar- and I know for a fact she’d sooner pour herself shots of liquor and dance on that bar than stand back and serve everyone else whilst they had a good time.

I already know I’m going to regret this when I finally climb into my bed at the end of the night, “She gets one chance.” I say. “One chance.” I hold up my index finger to him for emphasis.

“Thank you, Pope. I promise she won’t let you down.”

“Yeah, yeah.” I mutter to myself, my thumb and forefinger rubbing at my eyes in both irritation and exhaustion, as I finally leave the room. I give Archie a brief nod of acknowledgement as he sees me back out to my car.

I'm about to climb back in when he says, "I know you didn't have to do that, but he needed that, you know. He needs that hope that she'll be okay."

I only give him a nod as I look up to the row of upstairs windows and back to him, "We'll see." I say. "We'll see."

-----------------------------------

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[art]

Creator Spotlight: @textless​​

Hi! My name is Amadee, and I am a librarian who lives in Arizona. I also love taking photos in my spare time.

Check out our interview with Amadee below!

What got you started in photography?

Both of my parents were very interested in photography. I’d always loved looking at their work, and in high school, I got a 35mm camera as a gift, so I could start taking photos myself. Back then (in the actual 80s), HS students in the Minneapolis area could take classes at area colleges for dual credit. I started taking photo classes at the University of Minnesota and had access to a darkroom and nearly unlimited film and processing supplies without realizing just how amazing that was. I took many photos of friends, acquaintances, and strangers, and I loved looking at work by Nan Goldin and Bill Owens. After college, without access to a darkroom, I stopped taking pictures almost entirely.

How has technology changed the way you approach your work?

Bluntly, technology allowed me to start taking photos again. The first digital cameras I tried in the early 2000s were terrible: slow, clunky, and with next to no storage capacity. Even so, they seemed like the first step in an interesting direction. By 2008 or so, I had a point-and-shoot digital camera and rediscovered what I loved about photography… except that I no longer wanted to take pictures of people. Soon I started taking photos of tiny things, especially insects, and my little camera wasn’t up to the task. I got a DSLR with a macro lens in 2010 and haven’t stopped taking photos since.

I know many photographers who are nostalgic for film, whether or not they were around in the analog era. More power to anyone who wants to spend the time and money, but I don’t miss film even a little. For the kind of photography I enjoy, which is almost entirely documentary, the ability to take an unlimited number of photos, and see what did or didn’t work right away, makes all the difference.

You've also written books in the past—what was the most challenging, yet rewarding part of the process?

I was a children’s librarian for many years and just love books. So, when I started writing, I hoped to create books that would connect with kids and spark their imagination. Cortez the Gnome was a book I would have liked to see as a kid, and the art project elements were fun and frustrating. Gentle Hands filled what felt like a gap in my storytimes and gave me a chance to work with a publisher I like very much. Alas, my biggest challenge is that I haven’t had an idea in years! I write occasional blog posts for Free Spirit on topics related to serving youth, but working with kids was the spark for new ideas, and these days my work is mostly admin. I enjoy it more than I would have guessed years ago, but as a wellspring of inspiration, it is not.

How do you create healthy boundaries in balancing your day job and personal aspirations?

Work comes first every time. That might sound like a drag, but I truly like my job and think library service is critically important. In some of the tiny communities we serve, the library is the only gathering place open to everyone, and the only place to access fast internet, enrichment activities for kids, books, movies, and all kinds of other good stuff. I love taking photos, but I would hate to make a job of it.

What is the hardest part of your process?

The process itself is just fun, and I’d stop if it weren’t. I used to stress about editing and posting photos soon after taking them because I wanted to create a sort of nature journal in real-ish time. That wasn’t sustainable, partly because the subjects that interest me are so seasonal. I might take 2,000 photos in August (peak macro season here), but only 100 in February. Now I just try to indicate when photos were taken and know that I’m the only person who particularly cares about that. For years I posted six new photos each day. Now I generally post two and skip days or longer whenever it suits me.

Right now, the biggest challenges are external. First, my vision is less and less sharp. It’s nothing severe, just a function of age, but it makes me think I’d better develop an interest in non-tiny subjects at some point. Second, some small but annoying health problems have kept me from getting out much over the last year. I used to take a hike or long walk at least once or twice a week, and more in peak bug season. Since last September, I’ve taken two longish walks and mostly stuck to the yard. On the plus side, it’s an excellent yard with an ever-growing assortment of interesting plants and insects.

While this is frustrating in some ways, it’s also a distillation of something I have always liked. Even when I was hiking all the time, I enjoyed going back to the same places, again and again, getting to know them in detail and watching the seasons roll through. Staying so close to home this year has been an extreme version of that, and some aspects of that have been very satisfying.

I should also say, for the record, that I am not technical at all. I’m not interested in new gear as long for its own sake, and I don’t like messing with camera settings or anything fiddly. My favorite piece of photo advice ever was “f/8 and be there,” which I took to mean finding a basic setup you like and focusing on the subject at hand. I like finding strange or beautiful things that other people might not notice and trying to make them interesting to a wider audience. (Wider than just me, that is.)

What is something you would love to photograph but haven't had the chance to yet? Why?

This is oddly specific, but I desperately want to find an Arizona Unicorn Mantis (Pseudovates arizonae; check out the photos here). Several have been spotted within two miles of my house, but I have never found one yet. They are otherworldly and just fascinating. Insect goals!

Are there similarities or differences in your workflow when it comes to photography and writing?

Mostly difference in that photography is relaxing, and writing is nearly impossible, at least right now.

Who on Tumblr inspires you and why?

There are several excellent photographers who live in my corner of Arizona, and I love their work because it shows different aspects of a place I care about. Also, their photos are just gorgeous.

@fatchance​ is practically a neighbor and an all-around lovely person. He takes beautiful pictures of birds and desert flora, and unlike me, he takes the time to learn about and share good information about his subjects.

@thelostcanyon​ is another south-eastern AZ photographer I admire, and he is also a very good painter.

@inlandwest​ is actually my partner. We’ve lived all over the west together, and I like that his wide-open-spaces aesthetic is so different from my focus on the little things.

A little farther afield, I love @macroramblings​, and Celeste, of @celestialmacros​, @celestialphotography​, and @occasionallybirds​, for their beautiful macro work.  @mostlythemarsh​ is another long-time favorite. He’s not a macro photographer, for the most part, but I like seeing familiar places through the seasons, and I like the stark difference between his environment (east coast/Canada) and my own.

Thanks for such wonderful answers, Amadee. Check out her beautiful photography work over at her Tumblr, @textless​!

[love-kurdt]

Swooping, Sloping, Cursive Letters: 32

word count: 544

PLEASE READ THIS IS ME TRYING FIRST, AS THIS STORY RELIES HEAVILY UPON THE CONTEXT OF TIMT

April 7, 1990

Dear Will,

I hate everything about my life right now. I especially hate that you still have a fucking chokehold on me after you literally ruined my life two weeks ago. That phone call between us destroyed every single cell of hope I had left in my body… or so I thought. Because here I am, alone on my birthday, getting drunk in my dorm room and writing a letter to you. And I’m a hundred percent certain this time around that you’ll never read it, because in your words, I’ve done enough. Whatever the fuck that even means. What exactly have I done enough of, for you to cut me off forever? Did I love you too much? Have I cried too often for your personal preference? Have I groveled for longer than acceptable? Did I wait too long to call you? Just tell me what I did wrong, Will!

I’m listing all these things out, and all I’m seeing is myself trying to restore our friendship and you just… not giving a shit. I hate you. That’s a lie. I love you. And yet, even though you’re already highly aware of this fact, you still don’t care whether I live or die. If I were a cat, I’d spend all nine of my lives waiting for you. Alas, I am not a cat. I am a mere mortal, with only one life to live. And I don’t even have the will or the Will to live anymore.

My life wasn’t supposed to go like this. I’m just going through the motions, hoping that every tomorrow will be the day that I’ll look up from my crouched position within the caves beneath the Misty Mountains and see My Precious gleaming in a minuscule sliver of sunlight. I just realized I compared myself to Gollum. I mean… it’s kind of hilarious. If I’m Gollum, then you’re the One Ring.

The way I look currently makes Gollum appear to be the picture of health. I don’t sleep much anymore (unless I drink or smoke weed beforehand), so my under-eye bags are more like under-eye duffels. I don’t really eat much either, on account of being sick and hungover all the time, so I’ve lost a significant amount of weight. And somehow, despite all of my physical flaws, Elvis still likes to fuck me. Yeah… so that wasn’t a one-time thing. He and I have been having sex for months. I still try to picture you whenever I hook up with him, but it just ends up making me feel even more depressed.

I think the universe is out to end my life before it’s even begun. Whooo, this tequila is strong. Why is it that people under the influence always somehow end up thinking about the universe? It’s like drugs and alcohol serve as the wrecking ball that breaks the barrier between the material plane and the rest of existence. I’d love to see what you could paint with that concept in mind. I bet it would be absolutely beautiful. But if the universe is gonna end up being the one responsible for ending my life, then what the fuck does that make you and I? Hell if I know.

Love,

Mike

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