#and become best buds practically overnight

[the-terrible-theys]

(trans!)zach and aviva were bunkmates at science camp. i know because i was there

[mightyflamethrower]

Perhaps we shouldn’t be surprised that Attitude, the UK’s leading gay men’s magazine, has named TikTok celebrity Dylan Mulvaney, a 26-year-old bloke, as its first ever Woman of the Year. We gay men aren’t exactly known to be connoisseurs of female anatomy. We tend to have the sort of working knowledge of the vulva that most suburban commuters have of the Amazon river basin. More on the theoretical side.

It wasn’t just the fact that most readers of Attitude wouldn’t recognise a vagina if they stumbled across one in a dark room that inspired the magazine to name a guy as best of the gals. This was also an opportunity for some political posturing.

Because Dylan Mulvaney isn’t just any bloke. He is one of those special males who have helped rebrand the once hopeless cause of men’s rights as ‘trans rights’, turning it into the progressive left’s favourite contemporary obsession in the process. It’s a movement that is so centred around men that it argues the best kind of woman is a deluded dude who thinks his moobs are actually boobs.

Mulvaney has become an iconic figure for both the embattled trans lobby and the increasingly assertive reaction against it. His simpering parody of womanhood in his TikTok videos has outraged everyone who thinks biology is at least worth some acknowledgement. Britain’s left-wing radical feminists and the American right alike are horrified by his endless babble about make-up, high-heels and his desire to have a ‘Barbie pouch’ (his term for a vagina). When beer brand Bud Light partnered up with Mulvaney in an attempt to raise sales, rock star Kid Rock filmed himself using the cans as target practice. A nation cheered.

Bud Light’s endorsement and the Attitude award are far from the most ridiculous example of corporate sycophancy that’s been shown to Mulvaney. Tampax even sent him a box of free tampons to promote its brand. He said in one of his videos that he would carry them in his handbag so he could offer them to any woman who needed one. The fact that there is a deeply strange but significant subculture within the trans movement of men who fetishise menstruation, and who like to imagine experiencing it themselves, only made the video more unsettling.

Mulvaney is a testament to the power of TikTok (where he now has over 10million followers) to create overnight sensations. Until early in 2022, he was just another unemployed actor of the kind you might come across waiting tables in a West Hollywood restaurant. Mulvaney’s career was going nowhere fast.

The problem was that Hollywood, despite its army of rent boys, gay orgies and performative LGBT virtue-signalling, doesn’t create many roles for gay men who are as relentlessly camp as Mulvaney. And boy was he camp. Alan Carr would have asked him to tone it down.

In one video of Mulvaney from before his transition in 2020, he appears on a game show. He squeals, spins round, waves his hands, squeals some more and dances like a ballerina on ketamine. It is endearing in a crazed sort of a way, but unlikely to impress an agent. Unfortunately for him, Marvel was yet to add ‘Screaming Queen’ to its ever-expanding list of superhero characters. So he needed to find another role.

Lo and behold, in March 2022, Mulvaney announced he was coming out as a ‘girl’ and was going to post a video diary on TikTok every day for the next year. The tone of ‘365 Days of Girlhood’ was set the next day. As he applied lipstick, Mulvaney intoned what he seemed to think was a clarion call for women.

‘My first day as a girl and I’ve already cried three times. I wrote a scathing email that I did not send, I ordered dresses online that I could not afford. And then, when someone asked how I was, I said I was fine when I wasn’t.’ Who knew the real message of a century of feminism was that being scatty, indecisive and over-emotional is the very essence of being a woman? At least, this is apparently what the addled executives who signed off Mulvaney’s Virgin Atlantic-sponsored ‘Woman of the Year’ award endorse.

By day three of ‘365 Days of Girlhood’, Mulvaney revealed he had made a discovery: the joys of being a bimbo. Then on day four, he claimed to be exhausted with all the challenges of being a girl, which he listed as doing his make-up, sorting his hair and getting dressed. Move over Betty Friedan and Germaine Greer.

Day 10, however, was devoted to showtunes, suggesting it may be more difficult for some transwomen to erase their inner gay man than they’d hoped.

None of this reactionary, sexist garbage put off America’s corporate executives. Desperate to signal their ‘Diversity, Equity and Inclusion’ credentials, they were soon falling over themselves to endorse Mulvaney. In addition to Tampax and Bud Light, brands like Kate Spade, Crest, Ulta Beauty, Haus Labs and CeraVe helped him bring in a reported $1million in income in 2022.

Indeed, Mulvaney made so much money that by February 2023, he could afford to re-engineer his entire face with some facial-feminisation surgery. I can’t be the only person wondering if he should sue the surgeon.

Strangely, Mulvaney doesn’t seem to care enough about being a girl to undergo the procedure to construct his very own ‘Barbie pouch’. Maybe it would prevent him waxing as lyrically, as he has often done, about his right to show off his girl-bulge in public.

Mulvaney’s success – and especially his ‘Woman of the Year’ award – is yet more evidence, if we needed it, that the once progressive LGBT movement has imploded. It used to fight for the rights and acceptance of same-sex-attracted people and allied itself with women’s equality. Now it’s an embarrassment. The LGBT lobby has become a ridiculous parody – a bit like Mulvaney himself.

Malcolm Clark is a TV producer.

[whump-a-la-mode]

Uhhh. Ok so I don’t know what this is. It’s certainly not very good. It’s different than what I usually write. I’ll get back to normal stuff soon. I just thought this would be fun.

CW//Pet whump, lab whump, wing whump, medical exams, cages, dehumanization, needle mentions, implied past abuse

Signal hated waiting.

They hated a lot of things. They hated Dr. Natalie Sampson, for one thing.

Actually, that was most of the things they hated. Everything to do with Dr. Sampson. Their lab, their stupid experiments, their exams, or whatever the hell they spent all their time doing. Staring at those screens and hemming and hawing like an idiot.

Signal hated Dr. Sampson, more than anything. And, right at the moment, that was connected very closely to why they hated waiting. As, at the moment, they were specifically waiting for one of the doctor’s medical exams.

They had told them the night before that they were due for another one. Not that it was on a regular schedule or anything, the doctor had simply decided it was time again to shine lights in their eyes and take their blood.

Stupid doctor. Stupid medical exams.

In some small part, Signal wished they didn’t know the exam was coming. Of course, they would have preferred that it didn’t happen at all, but at least then they wouldn’t have to anticipate it. They had spent the whole night trying, without avail, to get some sleep.

They couldn’t stop thinking about what was to come. Being forced onto the exam table and poked and prodded and stuck with needles.

Stupid goddamn doctor!

The thoughts refused to stop overwhelming her, and they knew that there was no point to trying to sleep, then. They got up from her position on the floor, moving to a sitting position, sliding back against the wall. The bars dug into their spine.

That was another thing they hated, they thought, blinking open heavy-lidded eyes.

They hated their cage.

Dr. Sampson always insisted on calling it their ‘room.’ As if it was a cute little bedroom where normal humans got to sleep.

It was a cage. Bedrooms didn’t sit in the corner of laboratories. Bedrooms didn’t have walls made of close-spaced metal bars. Bedrooms didn’t have plastic floors. Even with the padded material covering said floor, it was never exactly comfortable.

Hell, bedrooms had beds! The cage had no such thing, just the mattress-like floor covering. At the very least, the cell had a sort of hiding box, in the corner. That was where Signal sat at the moment-- it was where they generally slept. The only place where the doctor could not see them easily.

Right now, though, the doctor was not here. The lights in the lab had been turned off for the night, leaving Signal feeling safe enough to get up, making their way out of their hiding space, and into the wider cage.

Not that it was exactly big. Ten paces by six, if that. The rest of it was occupied, as well. A sort of modified water fountain in one corner, with the food slot next to it.

In the other corner, Signal had thrown all her ‘toys,’ doing their very best to bury them under the mattress flooring. They didn’t need toys. They were human being, at least partly.

They were human at first glance, at the very least. Two arms, two legs, human face, the works. Hell, they had been a human, at one point. It had been great! They remembered with a sickly sort of nostalgia, how it felt to walk down the street, in public, with other people. Other normal people.

But, then, they had become a ‘specially designated class of protected persons.’ In less fancy words, a human lab rat.

That’s what they were. A lab rat. It was a wonder that Dr. Sampson hadn’t thought to put a hamster wheel in here, too.

The way they looked around the lab, checking for activity, was almost instinctual. They quickly confirmed that there was none-- besides the whirring of computers, running their overnight calculations.

They were safe.

With an aching pain of pins and needles, they shrugged off their outer jacket. Their outer downy feathers pricked up at the sudden change in temperature.

Rolling their shoulders, they let their wings fall from her back. They crackled a moment as they stretched them to their whole length-- a length enough to take up the whole of their cage, if they really tried.

They were a mess. Their wings. Not that they actually belonged to them-- they were just stupid things that had been stuck onto their back one day. Or, grown out of their back. It didn’t matter. Whichever way, they took no ownership of them. They were why they were stuck in here in the first place.

That didn’t mean they couldn’t bemoan the state that had befallen them. At some point, they had started molting, leaving clumps of loose feathers barely hanging on by their tips, crowded out by freshly-grown ones. That didn’t even take into account the dirt, or the fact that her flight feathers were all crutheyd together from having been compressed for so long.

They would clean them if they cared to. But they didn’t. Cleaning their wings wouldn’t get them out of this cage, out of this prison. Out of this lab.

Even though they still ached from prolonged cramps, Signal drew the feathered limbs back into themself. They didn’t want to look at them. By all accounts, they would have been far happier if they would just fall off.

Maybe they could arrange th-

The thought got no time, no chance to continue. The creak of the lab door felt like a gong, striking Signal’s rib cage, followed quickly by the burst of light that burned their corneas.

In a moment, they were back in her hiding spot, as far back in the corner as they could manage. With no gentleness, this time, they snapped her wings to their back.

Their face fell as they peered out of the box, seeing their jacket strewn across the center of the cage. It was the only thing that helped them forget the stupid feathery things stuck onto their back, but there was no way they was going out to get it, now. Dr. Sampson might see them.

“Good morning, Signal.” That stupid cajoling voice sounded, alongside the telltale sound of the doctor slipping on her lab coat. Had the whole night passed already?

Signal did not reply to the greeting. Stupid doctor. They fucking hated them, why would they talk to them?

“Hm.” The doctor hummed in disappointment. “You left your jacket. And a lot of feathers... Signal, are you molting?”

They turned to face the corner of their hiding box, digging their head down into the soft flooring as deep as it could go.

“You must be. Well, let’s get this exam started as soon as possible, then.”

Signal’s stomach dropped to her feet. They shouldn’t have let out their wings, shouldn’t have left the stupid jacket, should have cleaned up their feathers. They could already practically feel the prodding, poking touch, latex gloves jabbing at every inch of their body.

Touching their wings.

There were a few blissful, or perhaps stomach-churning moments, where Dr. Sampson did not speak. Instead, their footsteps sounded, moving about the lab. Picking up and setting down objects. Preparing to torture their little lab rat.

Whether the wait was nice or terrifying, Signal did not know, but they knew exactly when it was over. The sound of a key pushing into a padlock was all it took to make their feathers stand on end. No no no no no-

The door to their cage creaked open. They tried to wipe their tears on the mattress-like floor-- when had they started crying?

As if it mattered.

“Signal. Come here, bud. It’s time for your exam. I told you last night, remember?”

Signal buried their head deeper, nearly cutting off their own breathing.

“Signal.” The doctor’s voice was firmer, this time. Their heart skipped in their chest. “Come here, now.”

“Go fuck yourself.” Their words were muffled, but must have still been clear enough to be heard.

Dr. Sampson let out a sharp sigh.

“I don’t know why you insist on acting this way, Signal. I don’t want to hurt you, you know that. Just because they hurt you doesn’t mean I will.”

“Shut up shut up shut up!”

Another sigh.

“I understand you’re upset. This exam is happening whether you want it to or not, and I’m sorry about that. I know you don’t like it. But you know I can’t get you out of there by myself, and Dr. Crane hates to be interrupt-”

Signal was at the cage door in under a second. They moved quickly enough that they nearly lost her footing, but managed to retain it.

Dr. Sampson smiled.

“That’s more like it. Come on, then.”

Despite their cheery tone, Signal knew they had no choice, especially as the slip leash was pulled over their head and made taut about their neck. Not that the leash was really necessary-- just because they’d tried to escape two dozen times before didn’t mean they’d do it again.

Stupid leash and all, Dr. Sampson led them to the exam table in the middle of the room. A cold, metal thing, with a sort of pole sticking up out of its side. The end of the pole was marked with a hook-- a hook which the slip lead’s end was secured to as Signal climbed onto the table, legs dangling off the side.

It may have been the worst part of the whole ordeal, the stupid metal pole that stopped them from lowering their head.

“Let’s get started, then.” The doctor clapped their hands with far too much cheeriness. “How have you been feeling?”

“I feel like I want to rip your face off.”

“That’s- Unfortunate.” Their lips pursed together. “Let’s try that again. Physically, how are you feeling?”

“Fine. Is that it?” They strained against the leash a moment. “Can I go now?”

“Hm? Oh, no. This exam is going to take at least an hour, honey.”

Signal’s stomach twisted.

“I’ll start with your wings, so we can talk a bit.”

Somehow, those words made them feel even sicker than before. Still, they didn’t resist as latex-clad hands took up one of their wings, unfurling it until it took up half the lab. The touch made them shiver.

“Your flight feathers are coming back in well. It’s terrible, to think that they clipped them like that...”

“As if you wouldn’t do the same.”

“Of course I wouldn’t.” Dr. Sampson spoke through gritted teeth. Signal’s words were getting to them-- at least that was good news. “Signal, why are you upset?”

“That’s pretty vague.”

“You’ve been so stressed out since you got here. I have tried to make you comfortable, but I must say I’m at my wits end.” A touch to a particularly sensitive feather made the winged lab rat flinch. “Are you bored? I can always get you more toys...”

“I don’t want more toys.”

“Are you sick?”

“I’m not sick.”

Signal placed their hands on their legs, gripping them until their fingers went numb.

“Then what is it?”

They hadn’t decided on the best snippy answer to that one, but they did not have to come up with one. Instead, the air was filled with the sound of the door again creaking open.

Signal snapped their wings closed, and began desperately scratching at the slip lead around their neck.

“Oh, Dr. Crane. How are you this morning?”

[richincolor]

New Releases

A whole slew of books coming out this week, many we've been looking forward to for a while. I can't wait to add some of these to my TBR pile.

Perfectly Parvin (Perfectly Parvin #1) by Olivia Abtahi G.P. Putnam’s Sons Books for Young Readers

Parvin has just had her heart broken when she meets the cutest boy at her new high school, Matty Fumero–with an emphasis on fumero, because he might be the smoking hot cure to all of her boy troubles. If Parvin can get Matty to ask her to homecoming, she’s positive it will erase all the awful and embarrassing feelings He Who Will Not Be Named left her with after the summer. The only problem is Matty is definitely too cool for bassoon-playing, frizzy-haired, Cheeto-eating Parvin. Since being herself has not worked for her in the past (see aforementioned relationship), she decides that to be the girl who finally gets the guy, she should start acting like the women in her favorite rom-coms. Those girls aren’t loud, they certainly don’t cackle when they laugh, and they smile much more than they talk. Easy enough, right?

But as Parvin struggles through her parent-mandated Farsi lessons on the weekends, a budding friendship with a boy she can’t help but be her unfiltered self with, and dealing with the ramifications of the Muslim Ban on her family in Iran, she realizes that being herself might just be the perfect thing after all.

The Marvelous Mirza Girls by Sheba Karim Quill Tree Books

To cure her post–senior year slump, made worse by the loss of her aunt Sonia, Noreen is ready to follow her mom on a gap year trip to New Delhi, hoping India can lessen her grief and bring her voice back.

In the world’s most polluted city, Noreen soon meets kind, handsome Kabir, who introduces her to the wonders of this magical, complicated place. With Kabir’s help—plus Bollywood celebrities, fourteenth-century ruins, karaoke parties, and Sufi saints—Noreen begins to rediscover her joyful voice.

But when a family scandal erupts, Noreen and Kabir must face complicated questions in their own relationship: What does it mean to truly stand by someone—and what are the boundaries of love?

Check out Crystal's Review: The Marvelous Mirza Girls

Made in Korea by Sarah Suk Simon & Schuster Books for Young Readers

There’s nothing Valerie Kwon loves more than making a good sale. Together with her cousin Charlie, they run V&C K-BEAUTY, their school’s most successful student-run enterprise. With each sale, Valerie gets closer to taking her beloved and adventurous halmeoni to her dream city, Paris.

Enter the new kid in class, Wes Jung, who is determined to pursue music after graduation despite his parents’ major disapproval. When his classmates clamor to buy the K-pop branded beauty products his mom gave him to “make new friends,” he sees an opportunity—one that may be the key to help him pay for the music school tuition he knows his parents won’t cover…

What he doesn’t realize, though, is that he is now V&C K-BEAUTY’s biggest competitor.

Stakes are high as Valerie and Wes try to outsell each other, make the most money, and take the throne for the best business in school—all while trying to resist the undeniable spark that’s crackling between them. From hiring spies to all-or-nothing bets, the competition is much more than either of them bargained for.

But one thing is clear: only one Korean business can come out on top.

Tokyo Ever After by Emiko Jean Flatiron Books

Izumi Tanaka has never really felt like she fit in—it isn’t easy being Japanese American in her small, mostly white, northern California town. Raised by a single mother, it’s always been Izumi—or Izzy, because “It’s easier this way”—and her mom against the world. But then Izzy discovers a clue to her previously unknown father’s identity…and he’s none other than the Crown Prince of Japan. Which means outspoken, irreverent Izzy is literally a princess.

In a whirlwind, Izzy travels to Japan to meet the father she never knew and discover the country she always dreamed of. But being a princess isn’t all ball gowns and tiaras. There are conniving cousins, a hungry press, a scowling but handsome bodyguard who just might be her soulmate, and thousands of years of tradition and customs to learn practically overnight.

Izzy soon finds herself caught between worlds, and between versions of herself—back home, she was never “American” enough, and in Japan, she must prove she’s “Japanese” enough. Will Izumi crumble under the weight of the crown, or will she live out her fairytale, happily ever after?

On the Hook by Francisco X. Stork Scholastic Press

Hector has always minded his own business, working hard to make his way to a better life someday. He’s the chess team champion, helps the family with his job at the grocery, and teaches his little sister to shoot hoops overhand.

Until Joey singles him out. Joey, whose older brother, Chavo, is head of the Discípulos gang, tells Hector that he’s going to kill him: maybe not today, or tomorrow, but someday. And Hector, frozen with fear, does nothing. From that day forward, Hector’s death is hanging over his head every time he leaves the house. He tries to fade into the shadows – to drop off Joey’s radar – to become no one.

But when a fight between Chavo and Hector’s brother Fili escalates, Hector is left with no choice but to take a stand.

The violent confrontation will take Hector places he never expected, including a reform school where he has to live side-by-side with his enemy, Joey. It’s up to Hector to choose whether he’s going to lose himself to revenge or get back to the hard work of living.

Enduring Freedom by Jawad Arash & Trent Reedy Algonquin Young Readers

On September 11, 2001, the lives of two boys on opposite sides of the world are changed in an instant.

Baheer, a studious Afghan teen, sees his family’s life turned upside down when they lose their livelihood as war rocks the country.

A world away, Joe, a young American army private, has to put aside his dreams of becoming a journalist when he’s shipped out to Afghanistan.

When Joe’s unit arrives in Baheer’s town, Baheer is wary of the Americans, but sees an opportunity: Not only can he practice his English with the soldiers, his family can make money delivering their supplies. At first, Joe doesn’t trust Baheer, or any of the locals, but Baheer keeps showing up. As Joe and Baheer get to know each other, to see each other as individuals, they realize they have a lot more in common than they ever could have realized. But can they get past the deep differences in their lives and beliefs to become true friends and allies?

Off the Record by Camryn Garrett Knopf Books for Young Readers

Ever since seventeen-year-old Josie Wright can remember, writing has been her identity, the thing that grounds her when everything else is a garbage fire. So when she wins a contest to write a celebrity profile for Deep Focus magazine, she’s equal parts excited and scared, but also ready. She’s got this.

Soon Josie is jetting off on a multi-city tour, rubbing elbows with sparkly celebrities, frenetic handlers, stone-faced producers, and eccentric stylists. She even finds herself catching feelings for the subject of her profile, dazzling young newcomer Marius Canet. Josie’s world is expanding so rapidly, she doesn’t know whether she’s flying or falling. But when a young actress lets her in on a terrible secret, the answer is clear: she’s in over her head.

One woman’s account leads to another and another. Josie wants to expose the man responsible, but she’s reluctant to speak up, unsure if this is her story to tell. What if she lets down the women who have entrusted her with their stories? What if this ends her writing career before it even begins? There are so many reasons not to go ahead, but if Josie doesn’t step up, who will?

[danadeservesadrink]

Wine and Whiskey Chapter 2

Read on AO3 here 

Chapter 2: Scully’s POV

We’re just going to pretend that I didn’t wait an entire year to post the second chapter for this fic. Oops?

Scully had never been the deviant one. She made her bed with military precision, she only dated nice and respectable boys, she was a straight A student all on her own good merit. Her mother insisted that she was the golden child, the one you brag about to family friends at bridge parties. Truthfully, Scully was just as rebellious as her siblings. She just happened to be better at getting away with it. She was convinced her mother simply ignored her misdoings as she already had her hands full with Melissa, and as long as she kept her grades up she could do whatever she wanted in her own bedroom. If that wasn’t true then her mother must have been blind not to notice the extra tee shirts that kept popping up in the wash, or the times she arrived home late from the library with tousled hair smelling like new car leather and cigarettes.

Either way, Scully adopted the persona of the reliable daughter. The responsible one. The golden child. So when her brother had the audacity to call her on a Friday evening and scream her ear off about responsibility and safety and all his other god damn concerns about her choices in career, she was simply pissed.

Pissed that the golden child could become the fallen angle overnight for making her own decisions for once.

She ignored his little comments about her partner on the phone call, choosing to keep the conversation focused on her, but his voice rang in the back of her mind all the same.

He’s crazy, Dana. He has you going out on these cases putting yourself in danger for some insane crusade that already took one of my sisters. I’m not letting it take another one.

Bill would never understand. He could never comprehend how responsible little Dana could choose to follow one man to the ends of the Earth on her own free will.

But she would.

She was feeling deviant. It was dangerous. Dangerous enough to make her toss on a knit sweater top over her bare chest, foregoing the bra as it poked her bandages. Or at least, that's what she told herself. Dangerous enough to grab the bottle of white she was keeping in her fridge and her car keys.

She knew he would be home, and she was even more certain he would let her in. What she didn’t expect was him flirting back at her. It went against every dynamic they had. Until now, one of them would flirt and the other would silently admonish them, playing coy and superior until the joking ceased and work began, and they could fall back on the safe partnership that they'd created.

But she was given three days leave due to the stitches in her side, and he couldn’t come up with a conspiracy more interesting than why she had shown up on his doorstep at 9:04 on a Friday night. There was no safety net to fall back on. It was just them, in his apartment, splitting a bottle of wine.

She noticed him watching her. How could she not, with his gaze practically burning marks in her skin? It made her take bigger sips.

His eyes were hot on hers, trailing fire into her cheek, her lips, her neck. She watched him too, watched as he turned the bottle ever so slightly so the edge of her imaginary mouth barely overlapped his on the rim where he drank from. She found it oddly respectful.

Her mother called just to tell her off. Of course she apologized for Bill's words, but “why did you have to call him a bastard , Dana?”

Mulder laughed at her answer and she couldn’t help but smile at him. He teased her with alcohol and disappointing her mother and she had never been one to deny a challenge. It was so easy just to joke with him. She saw his eyes widen as she drank with her mother listening, and even though she was well passed the legal age, she felt a rush of deviance.

Her mother told her to really think about what he meant to her. Ask herself if he was really worth risking her life for. If it was, she needed to tell him.

She was scared by how quickly she knew the answer.

She knew he knew that “hi” wasn’t what her mother wanted her to tell him, and she silently thanked him when he didn’t press the issue.

If she was going to do this she needed more alcohol. She already felt it dulling her senses, making her lips tingle and her filter weaken. She knew she was tipsy when she actually giggled in front of him. She was almost embarrassed.

Her mouth went dry as she felt him staring, and the sudden memory of whiskey on a high shelf in his kitchen flashed through her brain. He had offered it to her before, usually with a waggle of his eyebrows and a look not unlike the one he was giving her now, after any particularly troubling case or really any time they had to do a lot of paperwork. Of course she had always denied, but then again she had always been wearing all of her undergarments at the time.

Alcohol was fuzzing her brain and her balance but the physical effort of maintaining her responsible appearance was making her desperate for any excuse to let go.

With the last remaining brain cells not tinged by white wine, she made her choice.

She heard him call after her as she sauntered into the kitchen with the energy of a free woman but she didn’t quite care. She had the obstinance of a child as she stood on her tiptoes to try to reach the bottle. She was about 5 seconds from climbing on top of the counter when she felt him behind her, and she leaned back into his presence.

She giggled as he fumbled and made a swipe at the whiskey, which was easily blocked by him. She liked how strong he looked, framing her tiny body against the counter with his big arms.

“And why should I give you some of my emergency whiskey” and the look he gave her made her melt. He was playing along now, both of them knowing how the night would end, but Scully didn’t mind speeding the process along.

“Because I’ve had a terrible day, and now I’m out of wine”, and she pushed her lip out further to emphasize the point. He stared at her, eyes twinkling.

“What's the magic word?”

Her brain tried to think of flirty comeback, maybe even just a smart one, but moscato wasn’t doing her any favors so she opted for tilting her head back and sticking out her tongue. She saw his pupils dilate with a hunger before she shut her eyes tight, waiting.

The whiskey hit her tongue with a burn and she tried her very hardest to remain cool and collected as the fire hit the back of her throat. She swallowed and coughed before smiling up at him, her look probably reflecting the one she was receiving from him. Hot. Thirsty. Desperate .

“Your turn.”

She pulls him down to his knees, and he lets her. She’s not kidding herself, she barely matched in strength with him on a good day when she’s sober. He let her.

She poured into his mouth the best she could, more focused on his lips then she was on the actual task at hand. His mouth shut quickly and he sputtered, forcing her to rapidly pull up on the bottle.

The whiskey dripped over his lips and chin and she simply couldn’t resist. She pressed her tongue to his cheek, lapping up the extra droplets, feeling the scratch of his stubble against her soft taste buds. She felt him shake.

Her face stayed close to his, their breath intermingling, and she found herself intoxicated on more than just alcohol. Mulder, tonight, was her drug of choice. She allowed herself a fleeting thought about how her brother admonishing her choice in partner just made her want to run to him more, like when her father banned her from smoking so she shoved cigarettes in every purse, pocket, or wallet of hers she could find. It was, of course, a rebellion. But it was a rebellion she very much wanted to lead.

He was questioning her with his eyes and she felt obligated to answer him.

“It’s your emergency whiskey, I didn’t want to waste it.” And to accentuate the point, she trailed her tongue across his chin. It didn’t matter that the alcohol had already melded with his skin, leaving only a bitter and sticky substance for her to lick up. He gasped and the sound of her making him squirm made her laugh. It felt good to be in control. He whispered her name, but she silenced him with a finger, moving it over his lips to rest on his cheek.

She held his face in the palm of her hands and realized she was holding her world. This man, this frustrating, incorrigible, beautiful man was her everything. How could she have ever thought otherwise.

So she kissed him.

She kissed him and the dam broke, and years of tension and trust came pouring out in a clashing of lips, hot and heavy. He stood to his full height, wrapping his hands around her waist, a tantalizing mix of desperate and delicate. She could kiss him for years, losing herself in the taste of his lips, his tongue, as he opened his mouth to her in what she could only describe as worship. He was worshiping her and she loved every second of it.

His mouth leaves her lips and she almost whimpers until it finds the underside of her jaw, her neck, and she feels what is what like to be marked by him. A curse escapes her lips in a strangled moan and she feels him growl against her throat.

“Mine” he whispers into her neck, and she might as well be putty in his hands because she is his, his, all his. She feels herself growing wetter by the second, knowing she’ll have to wear turtlenecks for the next week but not really caring. Or maybe she’ll wear a nice scoop neck, just to let the world know that Fox Mulder had finally claimed his territory.

“Yours” she whispers back, and he stares into her eyes with so much need it makes her choke. His hands drag up her sides, lingering on the bandage and she sees him hesitate. Leave it to Mulder to feel guilty as she’s about to take her clothes off in his kitchen. She pushes his hands higher, leading him to the underside of her breasts, and his eyes widen before he dives back into her collar bone.

“Were you planning…” he starts, interrupting himself by sucking on her clavicle. “On telling me… that you weren’t wearing a bra?” His assault on her chest made her struggle to think of an answer, but if he was allowed to tease then so was she.

“I was more hoping that-” he tickled a particular spot on her neck with his tongue and another string of curses leapt from her lips, “you would find out for yourself”.

It was true, of course, though she hadn’t admitted that to herself until just now. But he seemed satisfied with the answer as he moaned and pushed the sweater over her head. She aided him by lifting her arms, not wanting to hurt herself any further in the process, and when she dropped her arms he was just staring at her. He was slack-jawed, eyes wide, looking at her like a little kid looks at the biggest prize in the claw machine, nose pressed to the glass, full of ambition. The silence rang defining off the empty walls of the kitchen and she could feel every neuron firing in her body at once. She swayed back and forth, the dizzying feeling of Mulder’s eyes on her distracting her from everything else.

“Well?” she asked, tentatively breaking the silence. If the world continued on without his lips on her for one more second she felt as if she might break.

Thank God he knew how to read her mind. He was back on her in an instant, mouth and hand moving in synchronicity over her whole body, pushing and pulling her in exactly the right way, so wonderful she threw her head back in ecstasy. He touched her then, suckling on her nipples and her body seized. Words tumbled out of her lips, curses, moans, his name, those were about the only sounds she could produce at the moment. She fights off the numb feeling of intoxication and forces her desires out into the open. She needs him to know, needs him to hear her.

“Mulder I want you.” He looks up at her to meet her gaze, breathless and hungry.

“Now.”

He always has had a flair for the dramatics, as well as a propensity for overachieving. He lifts her off the counter with her legs wrapped around his torso, with the ease that you pluck a petal off a flower, and carries her towards his room like you would see in a romance movie. She wraps her arms around his neck and kisses him deeply, throwing him off his balance, and he kisses her back while he stumbles in the direction of the nearest bed. He nearly trips, he'll blame the whisky later, sending the pair crashing into a wall instead. She lets out a grunt of pain, her side protesting the harsh contact, and he instantly returns her feet to the floor. He’s so reckless with himself, her Mulder, he’ll run headfirst into the lair of a madman in pursuit of the truth, but when most men would pass off a grunt as a sign to continue, he puts her down and starts checking on her.

She smirks as his eyebrow furrows in concern.

“Scully I’m so sorry…”

“Mulder it's fine”, and she's smiling now, placing her hands on his shoulders to steady him from his worrying. She feels the cold wall pressed against her bare back and remembers she is topless.

It is an absurd situation. The two of them in the hallway outside his bedroom, intoxicated, breathing heavy, her side in a bandage, all of it. Maybe it was just the fact that it took them so many years to find themselves like this.

She laughed, and he joined her, letting the sound fill the hallway and banish any awkwardness that was still stuck between them. He leaned forward and pressed his lips to her forehead. Her eyes fluttered shut as he pressed another one to her cheek, and then a final kiss to her lips that made them tingle.

“Why’d you come here tonight, Scully?” She opened her eyes to see him smiling down on her, trying to conceal all the thoughts that must be running through his head. She smoothed his hair as if that would soothe them.

“I knew you would be here”, she said simply. He laughed and brought her hand to his lips, kissing her fingers.

“So all the seduction was impromptu?”

She shook her head, suddenly shy again. Silence fell like a veil over them again.

“I just… I just like being with you.” She stared down at the ground after her answer, head hanging until a strong hand on her cheek turned it up again. He was beaming at her, and she couldn’t help but smile back at him.

“I like being with you too, Scully” he whispered, and he pressed his lips to hers once more. She felt her body release all tension, melting into his grip, falling fast. She knew he would catch her.

The kiss turned hungry as she opened her mouth into him, and he pulled her lower lip into his mouth, releasing it with a pop. How they could go from giggling in each other's arms to devouring each other so quickly was testament to their bond.  

“Mulder?”

“Mmhmm?”

She paused, and he pulled back from her. She took the moment to look at him, remember his face the way it was right now, fresh and breathless, lips raw from contact, even more luscious than they typically were. It was a face she certainly wanted to become well acquainted with.

“Take me to bed.”

[chroniccombustion]

Butterflies in the Garden

Written for the ‘Fools in Love’ Persona Fan Zine (@personafoolsinlovezine)

Genre: soulmates, soulmate indentitpre-romance, M/M Rated: K Characters: Souji Seta (Yu Narukami), Akira Karusu (Ren Amamiya), Margaret, Izanagi, mentions of the IT Warnings: none Status: zine fic, oneshot; complete

Your name is Souji Seta, and you do not have a soulmate.

Your name is Souji Seta, and you do not have a soulmate.

Even as a child, when your classmates started sprouting colors, Lover’s Marks around their wrists, Platonic Marks across their backs, your skin has always been blank. You used to watch the other children as they gleefully showed off their growing ink and giggled over whose Marks might match their own. You envied them at first. Now you just feel numb.

Over time you’ve come to accept your Mark-less existence. You don’t like it, you don’t want it, but a lifetime of changing schools and absent parents means you’re no stranger to being alone. Eventually you just stop caring. At least, you tell yourself you’ve stopped caring; it’s easier than facing the gaping void of loneliness threatening to choke you whenever your guard is down.

Maybe this is better, you think. Maybe your lack of Soul Marks is the universe’s way of helping you deal with the isolation in your everyday life.

(You chant your “maybe’s” in your head and stop crying yourself to sleep by the time you reach age 9.)

---

Your flowers finally bloom when you turn 16.

A year is spent in a rural town called Inaba, where, for the first time in your existence, you actually feel alive. There are murders, a mystery, but in between the stress and combat there are people, and as you slowly get to know them you can feel your garden grow.

They start as tingles across your shoulder blades, the sensation of warm water spreading like ink along your skin. You wake one morning to find stems and buds. You wake the next to petals and leaves. Sunflowers for the Magician, hyacinth and amaryllis for the Chariot and Priestess. Gladiolus, then pink roses; lilac, then iris. There is freesia for your cousin, a dahlia for her dad. An entire field of Platonic Marks springs up almost overnight, and little by little they bury the emptiness beneath vibrant shades of love until you’re covered neck to waist in watercolor blooms.  

But for all the tattooed beauty of the flowers on your back there is still a blank spot on your canvas, and the colors fade in sadness on the day you have to leave.

---

You stop dreaming about the Velvet Room when you move back to Tokyo. You miss it, the way you miss everything else about Inaba, but your contract has been fulfilled and the logical part of you knows you have to readjust to life as a normal person. It takes ages, but you begrudgingly fall back into your boring, lonely life. You clutch at your shoulders when it gets to be unbearable; when texts and calls to your garden of friends just aren’t enough, you find your fingers searching out the comfort of the blossoms on your back.

Months pass by the time you’ve finally accepted that you’ll never see the liminal blue dreamscape again, and it’s because of this that you’re so completely unprepared for the night when, out of absolutely nowhere, you feel that familiar sensation of falling just as you’re drifting asleep.

“Honored friend,” comes the silvery-sweet voice of Margaret in your ear. “May I ask a personal favor?”

You do not hesitate, you simply tell her, “yes.”

The world around you is cold and harsh when feeling returns to your body. You open your eyes to find yourself in a… cage? Stumbling to the bars, you look out into the blue-tinted room beyond your cramped enclosure and realize that you are not in a cage, but a prison.

The walls curve away from you in a circle of cells too dark to see inside, but from what you can tell, the center of the space is empty.

Someone lurks behind you in the dark; you do not need to turn to know who it is. “There is something wrong with the Velvet Room,” Margaret whispers over your shoulder. “I cannot seem to contact my Master and I fear this new guest may be in danger.” You hear her move, hear the creak of her Compendium as it opens.

Faintly, from all the way across the room in the cell directly opposite yours, there comes the sound of rustling chains. Instinctively you step back into the safety of the shadows as a figure, clad in white-and-black prison garb, shuffles up to the bars of that distant cell. You cannot make out features, only the monochrome of skin and charcoal hair.

“Hello?” the figure calls, and the voice is male.

“Hello?!” he calls more insistently, voice hitching in building unease. “Is anyone there?”

You don’t like this. You don’t like what the Velvet Room’s become and you don’t like that there’s a boy in chains across from you in the empty dark. “Let me help,” you whisper, eyeing the oppressive space around you with creeping dread. “This isn’t right, let me help.”

You practically feel Margaret’s smile. “I was hoping you’d offer.” The Compendium snaps shut.

Something rises from your soul: an old, familiar presence that you nearly weep to feel again, lightning-charged and sizzling through your veins like a pulse. There’s a surge of ethereal blue light and past the glow, through a pair of eyes not quite your own, you see the boy in the other cell take a step backwards in shock.

When the light dims, Izanagi stands triumphant in the center of the room.

Through your Persona’s vision you see the boy more clearly. He’s roughly your age, with curling black hair and wide dark eyes set in a beautiful, seraphim face. He stares up at you-not-you in fear and awe and somewhere in the back of your head you hear Izanagi’s voice like a rumbling, distant storm.

I am thou.

But thou are not I.

The boy’s bow furrows in frustrated confusion. “I don’t understand.”

You watch through Izanagi’s eyes as he silently appraises the boy in the cell. Eventually you feel him nod.

You’ll do.

The world glows white-hot.

There’s a sensation of something shifting – relocating – and suddenly you’re blind. In place of your sight, however, comes an acute awareness of someone else, like your awareness of Margaret behind you only stronger, deeper, like you’re somehow folded up in another person and they in you. Any hollow place that once existed within you is gone, filled to the brim with this feeling of him, the boy who now holds the most profound piece of your soul.

It’s the most intimate thing you’ve ever felt in your life and you are very nearly brought to tears.

Your vision fades back in, leaving you once more inside your own body, and from across the way you can see the boy staring at his hands in pure wonder. He flexes his fingers, brings them up to press against his chest as if he’s feeling for something past his sternum. He looks up, and those dark, wide eyes meet yours.

“Who are you?” he whispers, but you feel it in your head all the same.

You get no chance to answer. Margret’s hand is on your shoulder before you can open your mouth, and into your ear she murmurs, “It’s best if we leave now, honored friend.”

You want to protest, shake her hand off, shout your name back at the boy and ask for his, but your body feels weightless, detached from your surroundings, and you blink to find the room around you blurring at the edges.

You wake up alone in the physical world, blinking away fresh tears. The feeling of completeness is still there, though, and as you stare up at the ceiling and focus, you can just make out the faint stirrings of Izanagi from somewhere far away. “Come back,” you whisper to the boy that cannot hear you. “Please …”

When the sun rises a few hours later, flooding your bedroom with light, you notice something beneath the cuff of your shirtsleeve. There, on your left wrist, in brilliant cyan-blue, is a Lover’s Mark in the shape of a swooping butterfly.

---

Life doesn’t change too much. You weren’t sure if it would because you’ve never had a soulmate before and don’t know what it’s meant to feel like, but the garden on your back hadn’t really changed anything either, so you suppose this is normal. Something that does change is the way you can sense his emotions whenever they’re strong enough.

Determination comes through a lot, as does defiance. You wonder what kind of life your soulmate is living where he’s constantly on edge, constantly tense or stressed. Anxiety and anger are common as well, and you don’t like that the negative emotions are what you get most often because you can’t tell if they’re what he feels the strongest or what he feels most frequently. Neither one is good.

You worry for him, send him thoughts of strength where you can, whisper, “you’ll get through this, I believe in you” into the butterfly, and pray that it reaches him when he needs it. You don’t know him, not even his name or where he is, but you’ve wanted him your whole life and now that you know he exists you already want to protect him. Sometimes there’s a flicker of something in return, but you can’t make out what it is.

There are times, however, when you swear you can feel his happiness. It’s soft, more focused than the other emotions, and always at night when you’re lying in bed thinking. There’s something like longing hiding in there as well, and you know this because you’ve known forever what longing feels like. The butterfly on your wrist tingles with warmth; you dare to hope it means he’s thinking about you, too.

It’s during those witching-hour moments, when you’re alone with the memory of dark eyes and even darker curls, that you press your palm over your new Lover’s Mark and pour every ounce of yearning and curious affection from your heart into this budding bond between you. You like to imagine that the faint, giggly joy you feel afterwards is him answering you back.

But your luck always runs out.

You awake in a feverish sweat one terrible, soul-rending night in November, with after-images of torture flashing behind your eyes and fear crackling in your ribs like Izanagi’s being torn apart from the inside out. It doesn’t let up even after you blink away the nightmare, and your entire body shakes violently with adrenaline not wholly your own.

You gasp into the darkness, searching for any scrap of familiar feeling you can use as an anchor to ground the both of you on either side of the bond. All you feel is chaos, a steady stream of spectral pain. You curl in on yourself then, instinctively wrapping your hand over the butterfly and clutching until your knuckles turn white. “I’m here,” you whisper, hoping against hope that he can hear you. “I’m here, I’m here, I’m here…”

There’s a feeling like something slotting between the fingers of your left hand, like someone is desperately gripping it, and you clench your fist in response as if you could hold his hand from far away and not let go. You stay that way until everything fades into a drug-like silence, sobbing against your Lover’s Mark and rocking back and forth until well after dawn.

Later, as you’re sluggishly getting ready for school with the morning news in the background, it’s announced that the leader of the infamous Phantom Thieves killed himself last night while in police custody. Somehow, with a gut-dropping surety that you cannot explain, you know.

You don’t go to classes that day – instead, you crawl back into bed in a daze and lay there with your lips pressed against the faded butterfly, your heart freezing over inside your chest.  

---

Your Mark is silent after that.

Your hope begins to dim to embers, not yet dead but slowly dying as the months roll by. Sometimes, at night, it feels like maybe there’s still something there – an echo of lonely sorrow ghosting across your soul, but it always vanishes too quickly for you to catch. No matter how fervently you plead afterwards, there is never any response.

You look for solace in denial; old “maybe’s” sit like poison in your mind and you quickly discard them when all they do is make you sick. You cling to your garden of platonic flowers, but even they bring little comfort now that you’ve had a glimpse of something deeper.

Ever observant, your Magician is the first to notice your despondence. He calls you, asks if you’re okay, doesn’t believe you when you tell him you are. He calls again later to say he’s bought a train ticket to Tokyo for spring break, and despite your hollowness the sunflowers on your back grow a little brighter at the news.

March arrives and with it comes your friend, his presence a balm to your shattered heart. You talk for hours, catching up those months spent apart and, miserably, you tell him about your once-vibrant Lover’s Mark. It’s grey now, the color all but gone in your despair, and you’re grateful when he empathizes but doesn’t ask to see.

Three days into his visit you’re… better, so he drags you off to Shibuya for a change of scenery. It’s fun, hours passing with easy laughter, and you realize you’d forgotten what it felt like not to hurt.

You’re halfway to the arcade when it happens.

Out of nowhere comes a sharp, stinging pain – it lances up your arm, tracing the lines of your butterfly like lightning, and Izanagi roars to life inside your soul.

Go.

You run.

You don’t know your destination, nor how your feet know where to go; it doesn’t matter. You follow the pull inside your heart, letting Izanagi direct you left, right, straight for a block then down into an empty, open alleyway, heedless of your Magician calling out behind you.

Then Izanagi’s presence abruptly disappears.

You stumble to a halt. Heart hammering and confused, you nearly miss the sound of pounding footsteps steadily coming closer until they’re just beyond the opposite entrance to the alley. You turn as a figure rounds the corner—

and freeze.

Wide eyes stare at you from behind crooked glasses, dark beneath darker curls in a beautiful, seraphim face. “You,” he whispers, taking a step towards you.

And then you’re both moving. You meet as one in a tangle of grasping desperation, tugging at each other’s wrists to reveal an identical pair of butterflies in shining, brilliant blue. Your fingers in his hair, his arms around your waist, and somewhere in the middle your lips connect in a kiss that feels and tastes like home.

“You’re alive,” you nearly sob when you pull apart, at the same time he murmurs in awe, “you’re real.”

Your name is Souji Seta, and you are 17 when Akira Kurusu calls you his soulmate.

[anninhiliation]

Behind Closed Doors

A/N: I attached the requests on the bottom this time! Might do that from now on who knows

Wordcount: 2.2k+

Warnings: There is smut, but it's over 1.6k+ wording deep mostly angst and some fluff  

Masterlist

You stayed up and waited for Chris to come home from the studio. It was 12:00 am, and he still wasn’t home and not a single text from him. You knew dating a musician entailed long nights and early mornings, the tours and promos but none of that mattered to you. All that mattered was that you would be with Chris even if it was just for a couple of months, and the occasional breaks in between tour. Chris was an amazing boyfriend of almost two years, and you were head over heels for him. Yet, you couldn’t help but think something was wrong in the relationship. It wasn’t what it used to be, and maybe you were just being paranoid but you felt as if things were different. As the night dragged on, hitting 1:45 am and still nothing from Chris, you decided to send him a text. 

Y/N: hey amor are you gonna be in the studio for much longer? 

As you awaited a response you went on with your nightly routine, trying not to think about Chris and what he was doing, fearing the worst. As you were brushing your teeth, your phone buzzed making your glance over the screen. 

Papito😘: No it ended early but we went out 

You read the notification, making your heart sink. You knew what we went out meant, and you knew how he was when he got drunk. Lately, you felt as if Chris was avoiding you, choosing to spend time with strangers or his bandmates than his own girlfriend. You were feeling abandoned by the one person you loved and trusted the most. You missed how he used to make you feel like his top priority, always going out of his way to see you, call you, text you anything. You left Chris on read sighing as you got into bed, in your shared bedroom. Laying in the darkroom, your thoughts clouded your mind. The room was infected with him, his scent, his things, a few pictures of him, and worst of all his presence. You fell asleep with tears streaming down your face as all you could think about was Chris and what you did wrong and where it went wrong. When you woke up the next morning, you were still alone just as he left you. With a sigh, you got out of bed completely miserable and drained from your crumbling relationship. After brushing your teeth and washing your face, you exited the bedroom and made your way to the kitchen. If you were being honest, you weren’t even hungry, you had no motivation to cook and just wanted to go back to bed. As the eggs sizzled on the hot pan, the front door unlocked and sluggish footsteps dragged themselves into the kitchen. You looked up from your cooking and there appeared a very tired and hungover Christopher. He poured himself a cup of coffee after kissing your cheek and saying good morning. When he embraced you into a hug, his scent pierced your scenes, but it was different. It wasn’t just his, you smelt the perfume of another. What was another girl’s scent doing lingering on him? Was he cheating on you? Was he so fed up with you, so bored of you he opted for someone new and didn’t have the heart to tell you? 

“Nena want to grab lunch today?” He asked interrupting your thoughts

You looked up from your cooking and at him, a little wide-eyed making him raise an eyebrow at you. 

“Nena?” he asked again 

“Y-yeah that would be nice wanna go to our usual spot?” you asked 

“Sounds good,” he smiled as his phone buzzed making him look over at it “listen nena I gotta go, but let’s meet at one”

He kissed your temple and rushed out the door.

You sat in the little quaint restaurant at bouncing your leg nervously as you waited for Chris. Little did he know, that before lunch you ran down to Adore Me and picked out something you knew he would love hidden underneath your sundress. Even though you were afraid that he was cheating on you, you couldn’t help but miss him, his touch, his attention and what you used to have with him. 1 o’clock rolled around, and still no Chris. Maybe he’s just a few minutes late, it is a busy day in the city after all. Then it hit 1:30 PM and not even a single text from him. Then the waiter came by at 2 with an apologetic smile. 

“Miss its been an hour, its either you order something or I’m going to have to ask you to leave I’m sorry its policy”

“Sorry for wasting your time” you mumbled as you gathered your things and rushed out calling Chris 

On the third ring he finally picked up “nena?” 

You could hear a girl laugh in the background making your blood boil. You were already suspicious of being replaced, but he couldn’t even give you the decency of ending things beforehand or hide things better. 

“Chris you said we were meeting for lunch! What the hell?” you hissed 

“Nena it’s only- oh shit,” he said “listen nena I’m sorry-” 

“Whatever Chris” you sighed, “it’s not like we haven’t spent time together in months or anything”

You hung up after that not wanting to hear another word or let him sense that you were holding back tears.

Back in the shared home, you gathered your belongings and prepared an overnight bag, for maybe a night or two. In truth, you packed so many things you could leave for a week without a problem. You needed to clear your head and see where you were going with Chris. It wasnt as if you could really have a heart to heart with someone who was never there. In a rush not wanting to walk into Chris you zipped up the luggage and beelined for the front door. As you swung the front door open you were shocked to see Chris on the other side of it, ready to unlock it. 

“Nena what are you doing?” he questioned looking at your luggage 

“I’m leaving for a few days not that you would care” you huffed as you tried to move past him

Chris blocked the door, growing slightly annoyed as his confusion grew. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he asked shocked 

“Chris, when was the last time we spent time together? You’re never here and when you are you make no effort to take time and do things with me! When was the last time you paid attention to me? When was the last time you touched me?” You spat out as you pushed him to the side walking away with tears streaming down your face. “We’re through” you said trying to not let your teary face become obvious 

Day 1: 

Papito😘 calling

Declined.

Papito😘: Nena please im sorry

Looking at the notification you rolled your eyes and huffed. Did he really think such a cliche line would make you run back to him? 

Papito😘: Nena ill do better

You read the text again, thinking he should have done better when he had you. 

Papito😘: Y/N please I need you 

You turned your phone off after that text not wanting to cave in to him afraid that one of his texts would send you running back into his arms. Without Chris, you were miserable and even more heartbroken than before. You missed him more than ever before, he had nested a piece of your mind and heart larger than you realized. 

Day 2:

It felt like you weren’t getting better and Chris’s friends were now contacting you.

Richard started as you were closest to him out of Chris’s friends. He asked you to take back his friend or at least meet with him, telling you how unhappy Chris was without you. Then news broke out, shattering your broken heart into dust. Christopher Velez seen with mystery girl. Y/N and Chris over? Joel was quick to contact you after you drowned yourself in the vicious headlines. You cried yourself to sleep that night. 

Day 3: 

You stopped by the house to pick up the rest of your belongings and to return the keys at a time you figured Chris wouldn’t be home. You unlocked the front door, and quietly let yourself in.

“Nena?” a weak voice called out from the living room 

You froze in your steps, being completely taken back by Chris. His sluggish footsteps made their way to the door, as he practically froze in his steps. 

“W-what are you doing?” he asked 

You studied his face, his eyes were puffy, and baggy from lack of sleep. Chris looked terrible, making the ache in your heart grow. 

“I- I was just grabbing some stuff, I thought you wouldn’t be home right now” you meekly responded looking down at your feet

“Nena please don’t do this” he begged as he slowly approached you 

You stood there still frozen as he continued to approach you. He gingerly placed his hands around your waist and pulled you in to him. His face nuzzled into the crook of your neck as his tears hit your warm skin. 

“Nena please” he sobbed “te amo I fucked up...I fucked up”

Your arms slowly wrapped around him as tears fell from your eyes. 

“Chris” you whispered “you abandoned me”

He moved his head, lips hovering millimeters apart from yours and met your eyes. His big brown eyes looked into yours, silently pleading with you. 

“Nena” he whispered “I'm so sorry”

Looking down at his lips and back into his eyes, with your hands slowly traveling into his locks you tugged on them gently as you smashed your lips against his. Chris kissed you back as his lips melted into yours. This felt right to you, his hands roaming your body as you tugged harder on his making an ache between your legs. His hands went further down your body, behind your thighs and lifted you up as you jumped up. Your legs wrapped around his torso as he carried you to the bedroom. 

“Let me make it up to you nena” he said between kisses as he laid you on the messy bed

He helped you get out of your clothes as you helped him get out of his. He kissed your neck hitting all of your favorite spots.

“I will never let this happen again” he mumbled in the crook of your neck 

“You are my everything” he continued as his hands slid down your body 

“You deserve only the best” he whispered as he left a trail of soft kisses from your neck to your collar bones 

“You're so beautiful nena” he said as he grabbed your breasts, encircling one of your hardened buds with his mouth

Your back arched as your breathing hitched, hands tugging harder on his hair. 

“Chris” you whimpered creating music to his ears with every noise you made

He paid attention to the other bud making you moan as his fingers trailed down to your pulsating core. Your hips bucked as he teased your slit, as he continued his trail of kisses. 

“Please give me another chance nena” he groaned as he passed your naval 

“I will never disappoint you again” he whispered as he kitten licked your slit

“You taste as sweet as honey nena” he mumbled between licks  

Your mouth hung agape as he did all the things you liked, drawing your favorite pattern on your swollen pearl. He slid two fingers inside you and curled at the right spot. 

“Oh my god” you moaned as your toes curled 

Chris pumped his fingers quickly building up your knot. 

“Chris just fuck me” you whimpered as you wanted more, wanting to feel closer to him 

“Anything you want princesa” he said as he pulled away from you and slowly slid inside you

He kissed your neck and collar bones as he set a slow pace. You scratched his nape and down his back as your walls opened up from him. 

“Faster” You whined 

“Fuck nena” he grunted as he snapped his hips quicker and rougher 

His hand slithered down to your nerve endings and drew figure eights. 

“You are my everything I love you nena” he groaned 

He angled his hips and threw your leg over his shoulder, hitting right into your inner sweet spot. Your eyes were rolling back as a knot formed in your lower abdomen. Walls fluttered around his member, making his thrusts lose their rhythm. 

“Nena cum for me,” he whispered as he kissed your plump lips “let me see you make that pretty face” 

“Chris!” You screamed as your knot snapped 

Your eyes rolled to the back of your skull as you entered your state of bliss. Your thighs shook around him as you left another trail of red marks down his back. Your breathing hitched as Chris rode you out for your high, and then slipping into his. You felt his warmth spread inside you as he released his seed in you. He slowly pulled out of you and lovingly kissed your lips before laying on the bed and pulling you on top of him. You nuzzled into the crook of his neck as your fingers twirled his strands of hair. 

“Nena I’m so sorry about everything” he finally spoke as he nervously drew circles against your hips “please give me another chance I’ll do better I promise”

You looked up into his big brown eyes and smiled. 

“Let’s start over”  you grinned

“I love you y/n” he said as he kissed the top of your head

~~~~~~~~~

Anon: OMG I LOVE YOUR STORIES AHBHBKJDNJSD CAN YOU DO A CHRIS STROY THATS ANGST AT FIRST WHERE HE IS SPENDING A LOT OF TIME WITH A GIRL LIKE SAMANTHA SO YOU THINK HES CHEATING AND YOU GUYS FIGHT AND HE ENDS UP ASSURING YOU ITS NOTHING AND YOU GUYS KIND OF FUCK YOUR ANGER OUT AND TRY TO DOMINATE EACHOTHER BUT IT ENDS FLUFFY WITH HIM TRULY REASURING YOU THAT YOU ARE THE ONLY GIRL HE WANTS

Anon: Some sweet rough love making with Chris under the stars Bc a bitch is in her feelings 💕

Anon: hi queen! i don't know if you've already made this one, if not can you please write about having makeup sex with chris? like you both haven't seen each other in a while, but when you do your hoeing with other guys which got him super pissed... Thank you !

[harry-styles-sunflower]

Wandering Hands Part 4

Hellooo everyone! I hope you are all having a lovely day! SO this is Part 4 of Wandering Hands.

What it is: You and Harry become friends but you come with certain baggage that might make any other man run.

Word count: 7.5k (longest part i’ve ever written ahh)

Warning: Cursing and smut (lmk if I forgot one!)

This part is ~juicy~ ALSO! New character alert, if you want to picture somebody, i picture zach roerig 

Pls reblog if you like it :) Thanks in advance for the support! Feedback is always helpful, I love hearing from you all!

♡♡♡

“Yes and no, I mean I still have to get to know you more Harry. Trust doesn't come overnight, it takes time.” You sigh  

“You act like we haven't spoken all day and night for the past two months.” His tone has changed to agitated.

“Okay, we have but still. I don't want you meeting Sam for a while.” You tried to get him to understand now with remaining calm.

“Why not though?” He pushed.

“Harry stop questioning me it's my decision,” you raise your voice a little. You were growing agitated now.

“You act like I'm a horrible person or like I'm not worthy of meeting him. You sit there and scoff at me while I try to have some fucking interest in your life” he remarked at you. Him cursing towards you pushed all buttons for you.

“Damn it harry how the fuck am I supposed to know you'll stick around? How do I know that if I introduce you two now that you wont just leave and he'll have to overcome a second heartbreak of getting over another man in his life?” you said a bit louder. He looks at you and slowly realizing the whole situation. He stays quiet for a bit and looks down.

“I'm sorry you're right. I understand. I shouldn’t have pushed it,” You sigh and he walks over to you and hugs you.

“Ive never done this before Harry, I wanna do it right,” you lay your head against his chest and wrap your arms around his waist.

“I know love, I know. I just got excited. I like you a lot so meeting someone else like you got me excited,” he squeezed you.

“Thank you. I appreciate that. And don’t curse at me in anger, I don't do relationships like that,” you stated. You didn’t, not even with Michael, you never cursed towards each other. Maybe about other people but never about each other.

“Sorry wasn’t very gentleman of me,” he kissed your head.

“I forgive you. If we want to do this we have to communicate well, and calm. Im sorry for scoffing at you. It was rude, and you didn’t deserve it. I could’ve came out differently,” you looked up at him.

“Thank you and you're right. Communication is key. But uh, does this mean you've been thinking of breaking up, like since you said the whole thing about what if I don’t stay..”

“No Harry, but I have to take precaution. It’s not that I’m coming into this relationship expecting it to end but my guard is up a bit. Trust and time will help bring it down.”

“Okay,” he lifted a finger underneath your chin and gave you a soft kiss, “I don’t intend on leaving you know.” He said against your lips.

“I know,” you pressed your lips against his. He pushed your lips more against his by holding your head in place.

“Our breakfast has gotten all cold, want to go out and grab something from the bakery down the road?” He kisses your forehead. He somehow always gave you instant relief with his kisses.

“That sounds amazing,” you get your shoes on and were out the door. Harry lent you a hoodie, your cardigan from last night wasn't going to cut it in this weather. You weren’t going to give him this back. You two walked out his house together, hand in hand.

“What’s Sam’s favorite snack?” He asks as you walk.

“Week before last it was cosmo brownies, last week it was Rice Krispie treats, I don’t know what this week will be,” you laughed, “he has my taste buds.”

“I’ll be taking note,” he kissed your hand.

“Are you and Gemma close? I figure since you had makeup wipes in your bathroom she was here recently?”

“Yeah like two months before we met she had visited, she’s one of my best friends. We text everyday,” he looked around the street. It wasn’t very busy. Just a few people walking their dogs.

“That’s nice, I hope Sam can have that one day. If not with a sister a best friend you know?” He nodded. Maybe you shouldn’t have brought up kids so early in the morning. You two walked into the bakery and it smelled like flour and chocolate. It was a cute small mom and pop shop. You were looking at their options on their small paper menu when you heard your name.

"y/n?" you've heard this voice before. Probably haven't heard it in two years.

"Matt?" you turned towards him. Harry turned towards you two. He had blonde hair and was tall, around Harry's height. Blue eyes and crooked smile. He was Michael's best friend. He took care of you for a bit after Michael died. 'A bit' being three years, then they sent him overseas again. You two instantly hugged. He still smelled the same. He was still tan so he must've just gotten back.

"It's been so long," you wiped a few tears that had escaped. You were so happy he made it back home.

"I know, we have to catch up, how's Sam? He must be huge!" he said with a wide smile.

"He is! You left him when he was at my hip and now he's almost at my ribs. He's going to be tall. We have to catch up though, maybe tomorrow. After school?" you asked.

"Yeah! I can do that," he smiled at you.

"When'd you get back?" Harry was the jealous type that was in extreme denial of being the jealous type. So he stood there uncomfortably as you spoke to your friend. Too close of a friend for him. He watched the way Matt looked at you and he didn't like it. He also didn't like the way he hugged you. So he coughed. You turned around and grabbed his hand. "Wait, Matt. This is Harry, Harry this is Matt. He was Michael's best friend." you explained.

"Nice to meet you man," he shook Harry's hand before answering your question, "I just got back two days ago, was going to text you today or tomorrow actually."

"I'm happy you're home," you said knowing he knew what you meant. He knew you meant you were happy he didn't have the same fate as Michael.

"Me too," he looked over at Harry and gave you a questioning look.

"So Matt, Harry is my boyfriend," you smiled up at him, and Harry looked down at you smiling. It was still a little weird for you to say. You weren't used to it yet. Matt nodded as you spoke.

"That's great y/n, I'm really happy for you. You deserve it," he said genuinely. You smiled at him.

"She's a keeper man, she was great wife, even better mother." Harry squeezed you closer to him.

"Yeah mate, I don't intend on letting her go,"

"Oh shit, you're British, that's pretty fucking cool." he laughed. Harry nodded and you rubbed his back.

"The accent is just about the only cool thing," they both laughed.

"Alright well I have to go, I'll text you later y/n, nice meeting you Harry," he hugged you and kissed your head and shook hands with Harry. Harry who was trying very hard to contain himself. After this morning he didn't want to push you away even more. Matt left and you decided on what you were going to get.

"I think I'm going to get a cream cheese bagel and a croissant on the side, oh and tea. We didn't finish ours"  you told Harry.

"Me too," he ordered for you two and you sat at a small table waiting.

"He was nice," Harry spoke up first.

"Yeah he is, him and Michael were practically brothers. They both never had siblings. I consider him like my brother in law, he took care of Sam and I for like three years after Michael passed. They needed him though and I was a lot better than I was in the beginning so I told him to go and he left," he listened to you as you spoke.

"How long have you known him, like since you were 15 too?" he looked outside the window.

"Nah, I met him after Michael got back from training, so like for 11 years now?" he nodded.

"Does he have a wife too?" he asked right before they brought our food out.

"No, I set him up with someone I met while I was in school, college, and they were together for a bit, but um she saw what happened to Michael and said she wouldn't be able to handle if that happened to Matt so they broke up." you took a bite of your bagel.

"That kind of stinks, finding someone, loving them, and then them leaving you because they think you'll have a similar fate as your friend," he sipped his tea.

"Yeah, I understand both sides. She's missing out on a great man now because its been five years and he's still alive," you sipped your tea.

"So you plan on hanging out with him tomorrow?" he wipes his mouth of cream cheese with a napkin.

"Yeah probably, Sam's going to be so happy. He calls him Uncle Matt," you smiled, "does that bother you? That I'm going to hang out with him?" you asked.

"Oh no love it's okay, I understand." he really wished you wouldn't. He wished he could hang out with you and Sam instead.

"Thank you for understanding," you reached over and grabbed his hand and squeezed it.

"What time do you have to be home by?" he asked.

"Ugh, sounds like I have a curfew," you laughed, "But usually they drop him off around noon so I have to go soon," you pouted.

"Wish you didn't have to," he said honestly. You agreed. You two had finished your breakfast and you walked back to his house. You had about an hour left to be with him before you had to go. You walked in hand in hand and when he closed his door you pulled him close to you and leaned up to kiss him. He kissed you back with need and leaned you up against his wall.

"Want you," you breathed into the kiss.

"Need you," he responded. He leaned his head down and kissed your neck. He was becoming addicting. You pressed your hips against his and he groaned.

"Harry," you moaned.

"Yes love?" he bit under your earlobe.

"Let me do what I wanted to do last night," you reached down in between you two and grabbed his length.

"Don't tell me twice," he grinned before placing his mouth on yours again. He led you back to his room without taking his mouth off yours. He fell back against his bed and you climbed on top of him. You grabbed his hands and intertwined your fingers. You brought them above his head and kissed at his neck. He was loving this. You kissed down his neck to his chest. You put your hands under his shirt and rubbed near his butterfly. He hissed because your hands were a bit cold from outside. You lift his shirt up slightly and kissed around his butterfly and down to his ferns. You tugged his gray sweats down and kissed at the waistband of his boxers. You rubbed him through the thin material before pulling it down. He propped himself up on his elbows to watch you. You loved pleasuring others, it wasn't something you fell short in. You released him from his boxers and he sighed. You began pumping him slowly and licked his tip placing him flat against your tongue. You licked up and down his shaft a few times before taking him slowly into your mouth. Your gag reflux was minimal he'd soon find out. Your left hand rubbed his balls while your right pumped him slowly. You spit lightly on the tip causing him to moan at the view in front of him. You slowly deepthroated him earning a louder groan and he put his hands in your hair gathering it in a fist.

"Fuck, y/n. Do that again," You lifted your mouth off of him, a line of spit forming as you pulled away and took all of him again," his hips jerked and you moaned. You sucked his balls and pumped his length fast as you did.

"Y/n, I'm close," you put your mouth back on him immediately, wanting him to release in your mouth. You looked up at him fluttering your lashes as you took him full again. You felt his cum hit the back of your throat and you swallowed. You didn’t stop sucking until you were sure there was no more cum left. He ended up pulling your head off mumbling 'too much' before pulling you into a heated kiss. He flipped you so you were under him.

"Harry, we can't," you whined.

"Ugh," he groaned, "I want to make you feel just as good," he reached down and rubbed in between your legs. You moaned and grabbed his wrist.

"I want that too but I have to go," you kissed him. He kissed you back and put his hand on your cheek.

"When will I see you again?" you hadn't thought of it. Sam only went to his grandparents every other weekend. Two weekends was too long without him. You bit your lip and looked away.

"I'm not sure," you felt bad not being able to give him an answer. His hand on your cheek gently turned your head to face him again.

"I wasn't lying when I said I'd wait for you," he kissed your nose. You closed your eyes savoring the moment and trying to keep your emotions in check. How had you found such an angel?

"I'll try and plan something for this week," you whispered before kissing him lightly.

"Okay," he whispered back.

You two got up, Harry getting dressed again as you fixed your hair. You watched him, photographing every movement into your memory. He walked you to your car and closed the door as you got in. You opened your window and he leaned inside. He put a finger under your chin giving you a lingering kiss making you want more. But you had to go. You said bye and drove home. You did some laundry before your doorbell rang signifying your son was home. You sped walk to the door excited to see your boy. You open the door and he attacks your waist.

“Hi baby,” you squat down and kiss his head. He was such a sweet and affectionate boy. You savored every moment.

“Hi ma,” he kissed your cheek before hugging you. He whispered in your ear, “grandma wants to talk, I’m sorry,” before kissing your cheek again and running inside. You had a confused look on your face as you watched him run off.

“Y/n,” Lydia spoke.

“Lydia?” You questioned.

“I know about Harry,” you were shocked, “Sam told us at dinner, he was excited.” You swallowed. You never wanted to tell Sam to keep secrets so you couldn’t be mad about this.

“He um, okay. Um we just, Sam’s not meeting him for a bit. Not until I think it’s time.” You spoke.

“Are you two a couple?” You couldn’t tell what her tone was. Condescending? Approving? Genuinely curious?

“Uh yeah, officially so. This past weekend.” You were so uncomfortable.

“I’d like to meet him, he knows about Sam right?” She looked at you with a raised brow.

“Yes of course he knows about Sam. I wouldn't keep Sam a secret. And you’ll meet him when I feel it’s time too.” You hated how you felt like you were co-parenting with her. You were his only parent.

“Okay well,” she looked around, “I’m happy for you y/n, it’s about time. Maybe not move on and forget, but move on and still remember you know?” She purposely didn’t look at you.

“I uh yeah, I obviously won’t forget him. How could I? He was my husband. But I do think I deserve to not die alone, have another love.” You swallowed. Why was this so weird? And why was Lydia being so nice?

“I agree. Well have a good night,” she said before walking away.

“You too,” you said lowly.

You closed the door and leaned against it. Sam.

“Sam?” You called.

“I’m sorry Mami,” he looked down with a guilty look on your face.

“Don’t be sorry baby,” you walked towards him, you lifted his chin up and smiled at him, “I’ve never taught you to keep secrets, so I’m proud you didn’t.” You kissed his head.

“Grandma and grandpa didn’t look mad when I told them, and I also said he was just your friend!” He explained. You loved his enthusiasm and the way he spoke with his hands.

“They couldn’t be mad, it’s my life. I think grandma is actually happy I’ve got a friend,” you told him. You weren’t going to spur the term boyfriend on him just yet. You were sure Harry would be okay with it too.

“She’s getting a lot nicer ma,” he said with a confused look on his face. You both shrugged and laughed. You two cuddled on the couch for the majority of the rest of the day. You watched Inside Out and taught Sam a few ways to express himself. He said he felt like joy that day with a little bit of fear because he didn't know how you would react about him spilling the beans about Harry. You cleared his worries before sending him to shower before dinner. You checked your phone to see Harry had texted you.

H: Hey beautiful, how are you?

Y/n: Hi handsome, I'm good. Just cooking some dinner.

H: I'm jealous, I had Chinese. I'm reading a manuscript now.

y/n: Perhaps you should focus on that and not use me to procrastinate?

H: You already know me so well.

y/n: 😘😘😘

You cooked spaghetti, one of Sam's favorites. Pasta always made him extra sleepy so it was the perfect meal for a Sunday night before school. Your mind kept wandering off as you cooked to Harry's dimpled smile making you smile yourself. Once Sam was out the shower you two talked about what the week ahead would look like.

"Sam, you remember Uncle Matt?" you asked as you served him. He twirled the spaghetti with his fork before nodding vigorously.

"Yes of course!" he said before stuffing his face. You laughed and handed him a napkin.

"Um he might hang out with us tomorrow, after school. I have to text him," you sat next to him with a plate for yourself.

"He's back?!" he exclaimed.

"Yes," you smiled. You know he loved him a lot.

"I can't wait to see him," he said before taking another bite. You two soon finished your plates and you let him watch some Disney before bed while you cleaned up the kitchen. You sent him off to bed once you finished and got his lunch ready for the next day. Your phone rang and you saw it was Harry.

"Hello?" you said.

"Hey love, Sam asleep yet?" he asked.

"Um, yeah why?" you put his backpack on one of the chairs and looked around you. It was like he was watching you. You heard a knock on the door.

"Harry, hold on someone's knocking. Has to be Lydia or something. Only she knows the code to open the door," you open the door surprised to see Harry.

"Hi," he blushed, "Uh someone let me in. I just thought I'd bring you something. Partly because I missed you and just wanted to see you again," he passed you a black plastic bag. Inside was a Rice Krispie Treat and 'Sam' written on it with black marker and Pringles with your name on it. You once told him you liked Pringles on one of your long facetime calls.

"Harry," you were speechless, it was so sweet what he had done.

"I probably shouldn't have come, this is an invasion of your privacy I'm sorry," he backed away.

"No no, its fine I'm just shocked. I never expected something like this. Come here," you put your hand on the back of his neck and pulled him in for a kiss. He kissed you back hard and wrapped his arm around your waist. "I'm so happy, and thankful, and lucky," you spoke in between kisses. He smiled down at you and kissed your forehead. You stepped back and put the bag on the side table near your entrance.

"I'd invite you in bu-" you observed his face go pale and eyes widen. He was looking behind you. You turned around and saw Sam standing there with wide eyes.

"Sam, what's wrong?" you ran to him and bent down to his level. He looked funny,

"I got sick ma," he said still staring at Harry in the hallway. You looked behind you at Harry and then back to Sam. He whispered in your ear, "I threw up in the toilet," you nodded.

"Okay, sit on the couch okay? I'll be there in a sec okay?" he nodded but didn't move.

"Hi Harry," he spoke. This isn't what you wanted or expected.

"Erm Hi Sam," he waved. Sam waved back before leaving to sit on the couch. You walked to your door, speechless.

"Love, I'm so sorry I know this isn't what you wanted. I didn't mean for this to happen," he rambled.

"It's okay, um come in? Might as well rip the bandaid off," you walked in and got a thermometer to take Sam's temperature. Harry walked behind you but stayed a comfortable distance away. Sam couldn’t take his eyes off him. You took Sam's temperature and he had a slight fever.

"I'm Sam,"

"I'm Harry,"

"We knew that about each other already," Sam giggled.

"We did," Harry giggled too. You were holding back a cringe as you watched them.

"He got you a rice krispie treat, say thank you," you whispered to him.

"Ooh thank you," his eyes lit up.

"Yeah no problem," he leaned against your wall.

"You're so far, sit next to me." Sam patted the seat next to him. Harry looked at you and you gave him a slight nod. He sat next to him and they stared at each other for a bit.

“You have drawings on your arms, marker?” Sam pointed out.

“Honey, wouldn’t you feel better in your own room?” You tried to steer away from the tattoo topic considering Harry had a half naked mermaid on his arm. Sam laughed at what you said like it was ridiculous.

“Ma, I won’t sleep now knowing Harry is here and I want to sleep in your bed tonight,” he pouted. You couldn’t help but smile.

“Okay fine. Only because you’re not feeling well. I’m gonna go get you medicine.” You got up.

“Harry stay with me,” you son put his tiny hand over his, “cool rings!” Was the last thing you heard before entering your kitchen. You called out of work and set an appointment with his doctor for the following day. When you came back to the living room him and Harry were playing rock, scissors, and shoot.

“Ma, look at this new game Harry taught me!” Harry gave you a dimpled smile before showing you.

“Very nice,” you observed, “here c’mon. Take your medicine, it’ll bring your fever down,” you served him on a teaspoon and he took it. He made a funny face before swallowing it.

“Medicine is so gross. Makes you want to throw up again,” you and Harry both laughed.

You sat on the other side of Sam and he quickly curled up to your side. You put the blanket over him and you and put your tv on. Harry observed you two and watched tv with you. Sam soon fell asleep again as you felt him drool onto your shirt.

“I’m going to go put him in my room,” you slowly stood up to not wake him.

“Let me help?” Harry asked. You nodded and he picked Sam up gently before following you into your room. You turned a lamp on so you two could see where you were walking. Harry gently put him on the middle of your bed and tucked him in. You climbed in on your side and pushed Sam’s hair back off his forehead. You gestured for Harry sit on the other side.

“If you want, you don’t have to,” you told him. He shook his head and climbed in on the other side.

“Thank you,” he said looking at you.

“For?” You questioned.

“Letting me get to know him. I know it wasn’t your plan for us to meet this way but thanks for not closing the door in my face.” He reached over Sam to put a loose strand of hair behind your ear. You look down back at Sam.

“Life is what happens to you while you’re busy making other plans,” you smiled. You hadn’t planned for them to meet like this but life happens.

“Beautiful boy,” he states.

“You know it?” You smirked.

“Course I know it, what kind of Brit would I be if I didn’t know a Lennon song?” He laughed lowly.

“Michael would sing it to him to put him to sleep. After he passed I just changed 'daddy' lyric to Mami,” you explained.

“My mum used to do the same thing,” he smiled at the memory.

“Her and I can relate on being boy moms then,” you smiled.

“I don’t think I want her to talk about me to you,” he grinned.

“Oh no, I want to hear it all,” you leaned against your hand. You two were facing each other with your son between you two.

“He’s a good kid, very social. He started asking me about my rings and where I got them,” he smiled.

“He’s nosey,” you lightly tapped Sam’s nose earning a smile from him in his sleep. Harry laughed and shrugged his shoulders.

“I didn’t mind it,” he plays with a loose thread on your blanket.

You three eventually all fell asleep in a big cuddle. When you wake up you feel Sam's small head on your stomach, Harry's forehead against yours, and all of your legs tangled together. You opened your eyes slowly and smiled. You felt like a family, finally complete.

"Mornin'," you heard Harry's deep voice say.

"Hey," you looked at him pulling your forehead away. He leaned over and gave you a quick peck.

"Sorry I fell asleep here," he says before placing his head back against the pillow.

"It's okay, I enjoy seeing your face first thing in the morning," you smiled.

"I like this a lot to be honest with you," he looked between you and Sam.

"I do too," you bit your lip. So much had happened between you two in just a few days. Sam stirred between you two.

"Could I cook you two breakfast?" he offered. You nodded and ran your hands through Sam's hair. He was warm again.

"What's his favorite?"

"Waffles," you smiled.

"Could I use your bathroom?"

"Of course, spare toothbrush in the hallway closet." you told him. He nodded and walked to your bathroom.

You escaped to your thoughts of how you could get used to this.

♡♡♡

Breakfast was a success. Harry and Sam got along well and you were happy. Harry left to go to work before you went to Sam's doctor. Doctor's appointment was unsuccessful. "Probably just a bug," they said. Matt had texted you and you explained what was going on with Sam. He assured you he didn’t mind and he'd bring you some food and some light food for Sam. When he showed up at your door, he had soup for Sam and chowder for you. You all shared a meal together and watched a movie. This was something similar to what you guys did years ago. It was close to night and Sam had went off to bed before Matt left. You took out two beers for you to share and sat next to him.

"Cheers," he clinked your bottle.

"Cheers," you took a sip.

"It's good to be home," he sighed relaxing back onto your couch.

"It's good to have you home," you leaned against your cushions.

"I don't think I'm going back," you looked over at him.

"What? What do you mean?" you were a little shocked.

"My active duty commitment is up, I could take another mission if I wanted to but I think its time for me to settle down," he took a swig of his beer. You nodded in understanding.

"I think that'd be great, if it were for me I wouldn't want anyone out there," you faced him on the couch.

"Yeah," he brought his arm that was behind his head and slapped it down to your knee, "So! Tell me more about this Harry guy," he grinned looking at you.

"Ow," you hit him back, "And what do you wanna know?" you blushed.

"Everything?" he said in a girly voice making you laugh.

"Well, we met at the bar across the street and we basically spoke every night then every day and night and yeah we just got to know each other well. And yeah you know it's been nice. To have someone again," you took another sup of your beer. Matt nodded in understanding.

"I'm happy you're happy, I know he would've wanted that." he reached for your hand and squeezed it.

"Yeah I know, we spoke about it once..." you wandered off.

"Us too," Matt looked up towards the ceiling.

"I figured you made some kind of promise, the way you treated me after he passed. It was very promise like."

"I would've done it, promise or no promise." he looks back at you.

"I know, thank you. Could never say that enough."

"You don’t have to," he squeezed your hand again. You laid your head on his shoulder. You were so happy to have Matt in your life. It was like another piece of having Michael around. You didn't have a brother either. So he fit perfectly into your life.

"I miss him," matt spoke up.

"Me too," a tear escaped.

"I can hear him laughing at us, saying 'you two are pathetic'," he laughed, "But then you'd probably give him a look and he'd say, 'oh not you, just matt," you laughed along and finished off your beer.

"You're right," you bit your lip, "Harry's somehow helped me say his name more comfortably,"

"I've noticed, that's great." he smiled.

You spent the rest of the night catching up and setting up a profile for Matt on Bumble. He was embarrassed at first but then became excited. He liked that girls had to match first, he didn't want to make any girls uncomfortable. He left and you caught some sleep before your day of work, it was going to be long.

♡♡♡  

ONE MONTH LATER

It was Saturday morning and you awoke with Harry leaving your bed. He was staying over more often per Sam's request. He enjoyed waking up and jumping into your bed and telling you his crazy dreams or hearing the dreams you two had. You enjoyed not falling asleep alone anymore. This morning though you awoke to Harry leaving because he liked to take a run and then make breakfast or pick some up on his way back. You opened your eyes slightly and you saw him moving around in front of your dresser. He put a headband on to push his curls back and put his sweatshirt on. He was wearing tights underneath some basketball shorts as well.

"Cute," you giggled. He turned around quickly and smiled.

"Morning love," he walked over to your side of the bed and kissed your lips.

"Mmm, don't go," you pouted.

"Okay," he kissed you again.

"No I'm joking, I'd feel guilty if I held you back," you giggled as you twirled a curl of his around your finger.

"I'll be quick, promise," he pecked your lips and stood up.

"Please keep your music low, be safe please." he walked back over and slotted a kiss on your lips.

"Of course baby," he said before he walked out your bedroom door. You stayed in bed until he got back. You usually never fall back asleep as you worried for him. He'd only go on a run every other day. When he got back you were on your phone scrolling through social media. Harry had posted a picture of you two last night. He already had a highlight called "Sam doing cool stuff" and it was adorable. He came over and gave you a quick peck before hopping in the shower quickly. He dropped off his phone on your night table as he kissed you and left it there. You noticed he was getting a lot of notifications back to back. You didn’t want to be nosey but you two also established you had nothing to hide from each other. You checked his phone and noticed they were all notifications from the Zillow app. They were all price drops on houses. Harry came back into your room as you looked at his phone. You tried to toss it away from you before he noticed but it was too late.

"Everything okay love?" he said with a wide grin on his face. He was only wearing a towel around his waist.

"Uh um are you moving?" you mumbled.

"No? why?" he looked confused.

"You got a lot of notifications so I just checked and it was price drops on Zillow,"

"Oh, uh yeah. Um," he sat next to you on your bed, "I was just looking at the market because uh like for us."

"For us?"

"Yeah, I would like us to move in together eventually. I've just been looking at houses for like 4 rooms and backyard and stuff," he was blushing and fiddling with his fingers.

"That's so sweet," you smashed your lips onto his. He fell on top of you on your bed.

"I want to wake up to you," he brushed his lips against yours. You felt heat spread in between your legs as he worked his way down your neck. You felt him grow hard through his towel.

"Harry," you moaned in his ear.

"You up for it?" he looked at you and you nodded quickly. He lifted your shirt and sucked your nipples giving both equal attention. He reached a hand down in between your legs into your shorts. He groaned into your mouth,

"So wet, so good for me," he said before biting your bottom lip. Your eyes fluttered closed as he inserted a finger into you. Then you remembered.

"Fuck, Harry," you whined. He didn’t pay you mind thinking it was a satisfied moan. You pushed at his chest.

"What happened?" he looked at you with concerned eyes.

"I ran out of condoms and haven't gone to get any, do you have?"

"Ugh no," he put his head in the crook of your neck.

"Ugh, damn it," you bit your lip.

"Don't do that," he took his thumb and separated your teeth from your lip, "It's only going to turn me on more," you laughed lightly.

"Harry, how um are you good at you know? Like um-"

"Pulling out?" he cut you off.

"Yeah,"

"Yeah, pretty good" he smirked.  

"You want to?"

"You do?" he said a little more shocked.

"I want you so bad," you said before planting your lips on his. He climbed back on top of you and pulled your shorts and underwear down. He rubbed a finger between your slit and you bucked your hips against his finger. He took this as a sign of your impatience growing. He removed his hand and instead lined himself up at your entrance. He pushed inside of you slowly both of you moaning in each others mouths.

"Fuck, ugh you're so warm and tight," he kissed you. His eyebrows furrowed as he tried to concentrate on not cumming so soon.

"I love feeling you against me," you pushed his hips closer against you. When he bottomed out you both moaned lowly. He thrusted in and out of you slowly but eventually he picked up his pace. He groaned as his thrusts became sloppier.

"Love, you almost there?" he put his hand behind your neck before kissing you roughly. Barely letting you answer.

"Yes," you breathed out. He reached down in between you two and rubbed your clit. You felt the tightness grow in your stomach and you tightened around him as you came. Your legs were wrapped around his hips so he roughly pulled your legs apart before spilling himself all over your slit.

"Fucking hell," he moaned, "that was too good." he kissed your lips and then your neck.

"I'm on a high excuse me," you grinned. He smirked and got off you. He picked up his towel he had previously wrapped around himself and wiped in between your legs. This wouldn't be the last time he would do this over the next few weeks.

"Thank you," you blushed.

"Yeah of course," when he finished he got you dressed and himself. Sam was bound to wake up soon. "I'm going to go make some breakfast, any requests?"

"Hm, I'm craving a tuna sandwich," he scrunched his nose but nodded and went to make you your food. ♡♡♡

It was a few weeks later and you were sick. Sam was in school and Harry had taken his work to your place to take care of you. You were laying in bed while he was reading a manuscript. You had a terrible bug that wouldn’t let you hold any food down. You had never felt this way before. Harry continued making you soups and stews even though your appetite was low. You were surviving on ginger ale and saltines for most of your days. You watched as Harry worked and the way he concentrated on what he was reading.

"Any good?" he jumped slightly.

"Hey you're up," he pushed your hair away from your face.

"Hi," you smiled, "I have to get Sam,"

"I was going to pick him up,"

"It's okay, I need fresh air."

"We can both go?"

"Okay," he reached over your bedside table and got you your Gatorade bottle.

"Drink, you look dehydrated."

"Okay, dad." you narrowed your eyes at him and sipped.

"I'm just taking care of my baby,"

"I know,"

You two eventually got up to go pick up Sam. You told Harry to drop you off at the drug store at the corner of your street afterwards to pick up some pads. But you lied. You were late and scared. You never had morning sickness before but now you couldn’t help but think it. You bought a small test, one where you had to pee in a cup and use a dropper. It was the only thing that would fit in your back pocket. You got back in the car and Harry gave you a look.

"Um, they didn’t have the ones I like,"

"I'll go to Walgreens later and pick some up," you nodded as he drove you all home. Sam told you about his day at school. You told Harry you were going to use the bathroom once you got inside to your apartment. You assured him you were okay and he told you he'd make a snack for Sam while helping him with his homework. You headed inside your bathroom and realized you forgot a cup. You reached into the cabinet below your sink and got a disposable dixie cup you usually use for mouthwash. You peed in the cup and got the dropper. You placed a drop on the test and waited three minutes before looking. You were sitting on the toilet lid when Harry knocked on your door.

"Love, you okay?"

"Yeah! Coming out now!" you washed your hands and wrapped the test in toilet paper before looking at it, shoved into your back pocket, and stepped out.

You enjoyed your night with them. Forcing yourself to eat and try and feel better. You tried to keep a mind over matter mindset. You read Sam a book before bed and squeeze him tight before finding out if everything is going to change. You walk back to your room and Harry's already getting ready for a shower. He walks over to you and wraps his arms around your waist.

"Feeling better baby?" he kissed your nose.

"A little, um stomach is funny," he nodded as he listened. He moved his hands down to your ass but you pulled away suddenly before he could feel the test in your pocket.

"Love?" he looked at you confused,

"Uh sorry, just not in that mood," you ran your fingers through your hair.

"I wasn't expecting you to be, just wanted to give it a little squeeze. But I'm sorry love, I know you're not feeling well," he kissed your head.

"Yeah it's okay uh sorry I pulled away like that," he nodded.

"I think I'm gonna go shower alright?" you nodded. He left and you pulled the test out and unwrapped the toilet paper. Your door opened back up and you jumped.

"Forgot my towe- what's that?" he looked at you confused.

"Crap," you put your head in your hand. "I thought this bug could be morning sickness or something. I've never had it but I'm also late."

"W-what? What's it say?"

"I-I don't know yet. I haven't looked."

"Why not?" he was pale and his forehead was already glistening with sweat.

"I'm scared," you choked out.

"Love," he rushed to you and kneeled in between your legs, "I'm not going anywhere no matter what that test says. I love you, you know that. You and Sam are my family now. I don't care that we haven't been together that long. I already know I want this for a long time." he picked your head up in between your hands. You mumbled an okay. You began unwrapping the paper and you both looked at it at the same time.

"Look for two lines?"

"Yeah, that'd be positive" you revealed the test and took a deep breath. One line was dark and the other was not. You couldn’t tell if you were relieved or disappointed. You tossed it on to your bedside table and sighed.

"I still meant everything I said," Harry spoke.

"I feel the same way Har, I just have a lot of feelings and thoughts going through my mind. Could I have a second?" he nodded and left to the bathroom to take his shower. You felt weird. Like you wanted a positive test but also like you couldn't accept one. Everything felt so fast. Being pregnant felt so far from now, yet it also felt crazy to start all over again. Harry came back to find you with your arm across your eyes while you leaned against your pillows. He walked over to your bedside table to turn your lamp off but when he saw the test again he froze.

"L-love, love!" you jumped at his raised voice.

"What Harry?" you asked worried.

"The test! It changed! There's two lines now!" he grabbed it and looked at it.

"That's impossible," you stood up to look at it with him. Sure enough there were two lines. The other faint yet there.

"I'm so confused," you breathed.

"I'm going to Walgreens to get a digital one I can't not be certain for tonight." he kissed you before he left and yelled an I love you before walking out the door. He seemed excited with hints of anxiety. You didn’t know what to feel. You two had been together for only a few months, still learning about each other. You paced the floor back and forth until he got back.

"Love?" he called from the hallway before entering your room, "I got this Clearblue one, I see a lot of celebrities use them,"

"Oh okay," you took the box in your hand.

"Hey, what'd you feel after we saw the negative test?" he reached for your hand and squeezed it.

"I don't know honestly, it's scary to start all over again. We're just starting ourselves," you looked down.

"I understand, I'm going to be here though, no matter what," he pulled you in for a hug, "I'd like to be happy about it if its positive."

"Me too," you whispered.

"Feel like peeing?" he laughed lightly.

"Sure," you laughed too.

You walked to your bathroom and Harry followed. You sat down and waited a bit until you were able to take the test. Harry helped you with putting the cap on and you finished taking care of yourself.

"I can only imagine what everyone's going to say," you run a hand through your hair.

"Love, it shouldn't matter. We are the only one's who thoughts should matter." he cupped your cheeks, "Oh and Sam of course," he quickly added. You giggled and nodded.

"You're cute," you kissed his lips.

"Thank you, let's check it?"

"Yeah," you smiled.

♡♡♡

What do you guys think it is??

[katsukikitten]

Winter Rose

You sit in the common area, wrapped in bundles of blankets with your teeth chattering. Your resentful eyes watch white flakes fall atop of an already knee deep snow.

You seemed to be the only one with a problem with the glistening, icy white that blanketed the cold hard ground overnight. Denki, Sero, Mina, and Kirishima all literally jumped for joy when Aizawa called the dorm phone announcing a very rare but much needed snow day.

No school was an excitement for majority of the class save yourself and two others who reluctantly dressed in their warmers clothes as they were dragged into the snow ball war that just HAD to happen.

Thankfully you made the class an odd number so you opted out.

Which is how you found yourself cold to the bone no matter how many hot baths you took or how many blankets you wrapped around your shivering frame. Your quirk made you weak to the cold. Damn your plant like nature. Which made your relationship with your crush a love hate one, not as if he ever noticed you for more than a few seconds anyway.

Your eyes follow him now as he stands by a tree. Not really participating aside from the occasional ice wall he would put up to block an incoming barrage.

"HEY THATS LONGER THAN TWENTY SECONDS TODOROKI!" A hot head yells loud enough to be heard through the glass. Clearly his competitive side kicked in and he is no full fledge in this battle of all battles.

Mostly because they placed Izuku on the opposing team.

You peel your eyes away from the heterochromatic boy with his broad shoulders and ever cool expression. You begin to idly flip through the channels seeing love story after love story related to both snow and the holidays.

Two things you hated most.

To be honest you probably could make yourself hardy enough for the cold had you taken time to practice but it was more of the holiday aspect that came with the cold that hindered you.

Even after the passing years you can still hear the screams, smell the tang of blood mixed with cold biting air that promises more snow. You remember it being dark for longer than you thought it should be.

Turns out it was your luck this tragedy would strike on the longest night of the year. You still remember the numbness of your limbs, the cold that seeped deep into your small frame. Gripping into your bones with icy fingers.

So much so you lost limbs to blackened flesh.

Limbs your quirk gave you the ability to grow back.

Icy tears free fall from your cheeks from the memories, the stench. The sets of dulled eyes paired with panicked ones.

*"RUN MUSUME!"*

You squeeze your eyes shut, snuggling deeper in the blankets focusing on the actors' voices hoping, praying that they drown out your mothers.

"Y/LN?" A cool voice calls from the arch way to the common space causing you to jump. You furiously wipe away your tears and steel your chatter jaw to answer.

"Yes Todoroki-sama?" You let a smile creep into your voice but he can tell it is forced. He does not answer as he makes his way to the couch. His eyes sparkle in the sunlight reflected by the cold, frost clings to his left side as he asses you. You offer a huge smile, willing yourself to feel the good parts of your crush despite feeling the ever present cold air that seeps off of him.

Although Izuku helped him battle his inner demons, ice is so engrained in him it must rush through his veins. He takes a seat next to you giving you his right side and you damn Kamisama silently. The chill caresses your skin and you clamp your jaw shut to keep your teeth from chattering.

Seconds feel like hours before he breaks the silence.

"I didn't know you like romance holiday movies." He says softly, eyes glued to you while yours are glued to the TV.

"Ah no I was flipping channels but got distracted by my phone." You giggle hoping the little cover lie works.

But the Gods work agaisnt you as your phone buzzes loudly on the coffee table well out of reach.

You go to back track but before you can speak Todoroki leans over to get it and places it on your lap, offering you a soft smile.

"Distracted because it's so far away?" He says softly before adding, "Why don't you come outside Y/LN?"

"Ugh!!" You half howl eyes darting to the winter wonderland just behind the frosted window, "Did Mina send you to get me?"

He laughs softly tucking a stray hair behind your ear with his icy hand, causing a shiver to run along your spine.

But could you blame the cold for that one?

A small blush manages to dust your cheeks and Todoroki bites the inside of his lip.

How could you always be so God damn cute?

"No, she didnt ask me to 'drag' you out." He admires you much to your confusion, "I just thought it would be nice to see a winter rose in person was all."

Your cheeks flush deeply at his comment.

Was the normally oblivious Todoroki *flirting* with you?

You swallow before another iced hand is placed on your forehead.

"Do you have a fever? Your cheeks are so red Y/N." His eyes drink in your features. How your eyes widen so slightly at the use of your first name. How cute your cheeks look all red and flustered for him.

How your perfect fucking kissable lips poke out in a slight pout.

The only thing that he's noticed that he doesn't like about you is how sometimes you recoil from his touch or the flowers blooming in your hair would wilt in his presence. Every accidental brush of hands, every time he stands in line behind you or stands beside you, you smile politely before moving completely to the other side of the room.

It's why he's been so hesitant to show you a fraction of how he feels. Shoto can't fathom Kirishima or Mina lying to him that you actually like him, especially now as you lean ever so slightly away. It would go unnoticed by anyone else. But he sees it.

And damn does it hurt to feel that knife slip in between his ribs.

All pushed in by you.

He sighs softly and you finally break the passing moments by answering, unknowingly, all of his questions at once.

"I hate the cold Todoroki-sama." You blink up at him and watch his face bite back a grimace.

Maybe that wasn't the nicest way to put it? Maybe you should have given some preface to that statement.

But honestly who shares their childhood trauma before even confessing their feelings?

You knew you couldn't. It was best to keep everyone at arms length anyway. That way when you lost them it wouldn't hurt nearly as bad.

An eye of burning ember and freezing ice once over your features before he stands. His eyes linger over you and you shudder beneath his weighted gaze.

*"Arms length."* You remind yourself as you watch him, he slowly makes his way out of the living room and once you hear a door shut you believe him to he outside.

You stare down at the phone in your lap, your pathetic reflection staring back up at you. Droplets collect on the front glass of your hand held you wipe them away leaving your hands outside of your cocoon before you close your eyes to think.

Something warm seeps into your chilled fingers and you open your eyes to see a cup being pressed into your hands.

A cup filled with your favorite tea, looking to be the perfect color that you always make it.

Your eyes flash up to see Todoroki offering it to you, you blink furiously.

"Thank you." You squeak out, and you further fluster as he sits next to you. This time it is his left side that is closest and you can now feel the heat radiating off of him.

He grabs the remote and selects a good Ghibli movie. Despite the warm tea your teeth chatter causing a muscled arm to be pulled to a sculpted body.

"Todo...Todoroki-sama!?!" You try half heartily to pull away to no avail.

"Please call me Shoto or Shoto-kun." He says sternly causing your gut to clench as you start to lean into him. You wonder if he is putting off extra heat as normally, no matter what side you face, a chill would settle over you even if you're half way across the room. You snuggle deeper feeling warm for the first time all winter and even sighing aloud as he gives your frame a small squeeze. His hand slipping down your shoulder to rest on your ribs.

You don't notice the flower buds weaving themselves into your hair as they bloom with content.

Todoroki cannot help the smile on his lips as he looks down at you. Your eyes clearly becoming heavy as you begin to sink into sleep.

He is not sure how long he let you sleep there but long enough for people to begin coming inside.

All to be met with a glare of burning heat and icy rage. Kirishima makes the best of getting everyone into the kitchen for cocoa as you continue to sleep.

He cannot bring himself to wake you but he knows he has too soon as the sun is setting turning the snow outside into cotton candy pinks and dreamsicle orange.

"Y/N.." He half whispers, applying pressure to your hip. You try to snuggle deeper into his warmth but his cool hand slips under your chin.

"Icy Shoto..." You pout and he swallows his desire but it gets stuck in his throat. You look amazing with half lidded eyes and lips pushed out in a pout.

He cannot help himself. Cannot stop himself as he leans in towards your perfect lips as he captures them with your own.

Your eyes widen before fluttering closed as you melt into the kiss, having never felt this warm in your life.

While the buds finally bloom to roses of contrasting colors in your hair.

Roses of deep shining reds and whites that seem to shimmer blue.

@my-todoroki-academia a fic for you that you didnt ask for bb

[kimmiherself]

CHAPTER ONE: THE BOYFRIEND

I knew I wasn't crazy but I could be a little control freak and a tad bit obsessive-compulsive at times. I had a tendency to get anxious if things around me weren't organized. I couldn't ask the world to keep it that way for me but I could control my environment. I always kept my bedroom clean and in order, with all my books and stationaries piled up neatly on my side table, my dresser a display of beautiful things I had collected over the years—cute buttons, old jewelries, broken pearls and other beads, a ballpen with green feathers attached to one side and a matching notebook that was my diary, along with the array of headbands and hairclips, as well as my hygiene products, while every other nook of my bedroom—even the ceiling—showcased my collections of stuffed toys and every other cute and green thing that matched the mint-colored walls and linens. I didn't have much but I had decent clothes that consisted mostly of t-shirts and pants—I never liked to wear anything without a sleeve. I'd pile them up neatly in my closet, with the width of the folds always uniform and parallel to each other. I always kept everything in order and I would immediately notice if something had been moved or wasn't in its place. That's just who I was. Things should be planned. Things should be organized. And it was frustrating whenever things didn't go my way.

But there were things that I didn't plan but surprised me, anyway. Like meeting my boyfriend, Matthew.

I first met him at an inter-school event. I was in second year of high school and he was in his last. We both went to private schools  but in different districts. When our schools decided to work together for a radio broadcasting competition, I had to team up with Matt's group for a few days before the actual event and literally holed up in one room with the group for another day or two during the actual event, which was hosted in another school.

He barely caught my eyes at first. Meeting new people was awkward and a little difficult for me. I mostly kept to myself and only talked if asked to. Until I noticed those little giggles erupting around me and the looks the other members of the group shot each other, which was becoming more and more distracting each day. This guy, the group's leader, would just shrug it off. When our eyes met one time, he gave me an apologetic smile, which only brought more giggles from the others. I froze and, suddenly, became very self-conscious. I didn't want to assume but I believed the group was teasing him about me, which brought out conflicting feelings from within me.

I always tried to look neat and presentable, as if I had a mother doing that for me just as how my friends' mothers seemed to be doing to their kids, but that didn't mean I was confident to say I was pretty. Honestly, I believed I looked at least average. My long, straight hair was a product of my yearly visit to the salon. I hated every wave and curl of my hair so I kept them straight by acquiring the magical services of hairdressers. My face was too simple that it wouldn't stand out in the crowd. My eyes too large. My lips too full. My height average. I also hadn't shed most of the baby fats in my midsection and it was one thing I really disliked about myself. Well, to keep the points even, my skin was naturally fair. It just wasn't as fair as Kendra's—the person I'd hate to compare myself with the most.

Kendra topped the long list of girls at school who had brought up my insecurities. People claimed she was the prettiest. Her skin the fairest. Her face the most angelic. Her voice could even summon the angels if she'd like. Her dance the most graceful. Her body a perfect structure. And when I knew some boy I had a crush on liked her first, I flipped. I claimed not to mind but I did. I kind of felt embarrassed to sit next to her. She was a year younger than I was but we mostly ended up performing in various events together. There was one time I was called to become one of her back-up dancers during a competition and it really irked me. For days, I wondered how nice it would be to switch places with her. I believed I was the better dancer. I couldn't sing, though. And she really was beautiful—I paled in comparison to her. But the thought was a bitter pill to swallow. I kind of hated her for being too perfect. Kendra really brought out the worst in me, and she didn't even know.

Someone liking me was both confusing and unbelievable to me. There was only one boy who openly showed his feelings to me, and sure I liked him too. For a while, I was obsessed with him and of our budding friendship. But the moment someone made a comment about me growing taller and bigger than he was, my feelings died out like a candle blown. And he liked Kendra first. Like most boys in school did. It just also didn't sit well with me to become someone's consolation prize because he didn't win the grand prize. Aaron was a good guy, though. My insecurities just gnawed on me.

Matthew's appearance to my life was unexpected but pleasant. The teasing during the competition even intensified when Matthew called my name during script-reading instead of someone else's. Suddenly, I was hyperaware of his presence. I knew where he was in the room without looking. I anticipated hearing his voice during practices. And I had become exceedingly conscious of myself when he was there. I realized how magnetic his eyes were behind those thin slits and how sheepish his smile was. And it unnerved me whenever he chose to throw that smile at me. When the actual competition came, he stood next to me and it was the closest he ever was with me during the entire event. We never talked, though. We only ever had our timid stares whenever our eyes met.

While we never talked during those first few days, we spent months and months of talking through the phone during the duration of our relationship. It started with friendly chats and warm conversations. He would always throw compliments at me and say he was very lucky I was giving him any attention. I felt luckier. I never knew having someone to listen to all my internal dialogues was that satisfying. The constant communication bound us together despite the aching distance. He wrote the most romantic messages and the most heartfelt promises that I fell in love with him almost instantly. He was pretty poetic but always sounded so mature. He took up Mass Communication in college and I thought it suited him best. Matt had his way with words...and words were all we had for each other.

For almost two years of being together, we had only met four times. The first time was during the earliest part of our relationship. There was an event at school and he surprised me by visiting. I ruined that when I just screamed upon seeing him and ran home. I literally ran away, dragging one of my friends with me. It took only a second and I was gone.

The second was unexpected. My mother had to process some documents in the city for her flight back to work. My sister and I went looking for a copier machine and, lo and behold, Matt was standing in the middle of a busy alley, his gaze locked on mine. Everything around us seemed to move in slow motion as I stared back at him, my heart beating erratically. I couldn't even remember if we talked. The fear of having us found out by my parents superseded my excitement so, again, I rushed away as fast as possible.

The third time we met lasted about thirty minutes. We had our first date. A really short one, though. I snuck away from our school event to meet him at lunch. It wasn't even a real lunch, but I couldn't care less. Finally, I was with him. I had been wanting to see him for what seemed like forever. While we talked endlessly on the phone, we barely did in real life. I was shy, awkward, and couldn't even mutter a word without stuttering. I had been trying to write our love story that time and I wanted him to read it. I was hesitant at first but he was already so curious that he had to read it. I watched his lips twitch a few times as his eyes scanned my words, and I felt the contents of my stomach trying to come back up. It was embarrassing. I didn't know what he thought about it but seeing him smile somehow calmed my nerves. It was the shortest date ever that one could hardly call it a date. But he was sweet and a real gentleman too. He never even touched my hand, which I had been hoping he would. I wanted to hold him...to feel he was there. Like he was real. Like what we had was real. It was weird how close it felt we were on the phone but how distant we actually were in real life. I started thinking about the reality of it all. Was I just hallucinating things? Did he really love me back? I started to doubt everything.

The fourth time we met was in the city. I had to attend to an overnight school activity and the morning after I had to sneak away to see him. No one knew about it. The sun had just been up and I had to see him in my pajamas for I was still waiting for my turn in the bathroom. We met outside the dormitory my group was staying at and sat on a bench nearby. I had started wearing my prescription glasses by that time and regretted doing so when he asked me about it. I probably looked hideous. I hadn't even taken my bath yet. Everything that morning just made me feel so embarrassed once again. We were together for like ten minutes, with me just squirming in my seat as he looked at me. Again, I couldn't remember what we talked about—if we ever did, but I remembered him taking off his black rubber bracelet that had a knot in the middle and slid it up my wrist. "To remind you of me," he said. As if he ever left my mind. The slight grazing of his skin over mine was enough to make me dizzy and it didn't help that my heart was pumping like crazy. He left shortly after that, seeing we both had full days waiting for us. And when he waved his final goodbye, he said he loved me.

I loved him too.

But being Matthew's girlfriend wasn't entirely easy. As a matter of fact, it was too difficult and too complicated that I always found myself crying at night. It was because of this relationship that I met loneliness and learned it was a terrible companion.

Being in college and living in the city away from his family hadn't always been easy for Matthew. He had dreams and he had been doing his best to achieve them, even if it meant he had to take part-time jobs here and there just to support his education. He was always responsible and I never knew anyone who worked as hard he did. Even in high school, he already part-timed as a radio DJ. I was very proud of him. He inspired me to work very hard myself so I could reach my dreams too, although him working that hard meant our relationship would be put to the least of his priorities. I knew I mattered to him...he just didn't have the time for me yet.

And it left me wrecked. He had broken up with me multiple times that I lost count already. He told me he couldn't keep a relationship while life was beating the hell out of him and added I was too young and too naive to even understand. But he couldn't seem to leave me alone for long too. It was that uncertainty that kept me awake at night. He said he loved me even after dumping me. He said I'd just have to hold on and wait for him to be ready. He said we'd be together once I finished high school—he let me promise that one. Matt said I'd just have to be patient.

Then he would disappear for weeks.

Those days were torture to me.

Loneliness started eating me. I'd wake up feeling nothing and I would go to bed feeling like the world just crashed on my shoulders. There were days I'd wreck everything in my bedroom and I'd snap at anyone who tried to come near me. There were days that I hated everyone, even my friends at school, and just holed up in the library after class. But mostly, I'd cry myself to sleep. And it didn't help that every song on the radio seemed to mock me. Then I'd start feeling like sleeping and never wanting to wake up.

I tried to forget him and focused all my attention to school, and it became an obsession. When mother was talking about possible universities and colleges for me, she mentioned I could go to the country's capital and study there. But flying across the country, stretching the distance between Matt and I into thousands and thousands of kilometers, wasn't an option for me. Despite the uncertainties and the heartaches, I'd rather be near him, like a moth ever so tempted to embrace the flame.

There was only one college for me. My brother said it was one of the best and it was in the same city as Matt's. I wasn't actually looking forward to become a nurse but I also didn't have anything I particularly liked at the moment. I was merely following my brother's footsteps and it didn't sound so bad at all. But to get to that college, I would have to ensure my scholarship that promised a hundred percent off the tuition fee, even though I never once had been pressured by my family about it. I just didn't want to add to my mother's burden and it also made me feel good to study at a college with the word best attached to it. So I had been studying really hard and I had also been joining all the extra-curricular activities that would hopefully earn me points and help me graduate at the top of my class. For a while, it took my mind off my broken heart.

But, as I said, Matthew couldn't leave me alone for long. He would pop right back up when I had started getting used to his absence. It was becoming exhausting but I couldn't seem to let go of him too, so I'd jump back again to this vicious cycle.

Five months and I'd be off to college. Matthew and I had gotten back together and jumpstarted our relationship once again. It was as exhausting as ever but the thought of seeing him at the end of this waiting game was enough to keep me going. Matthew had becoming more and more distant and inattentive each passing day but I believed he was just really busy tossing himself between school and work that he could hardly find the time to check his phone. Still, I couldn't help but wallow in his absence. He even forgot about my birthday and it crushed me so hard. He promised he'd see me but it never happened. I tried getting his attention though, but it was worthless. I only looked like a clingy, immature, whining little girl who couldn't wait to get her candy.

I knew I'd been really annoying but Matt was still sweet and kind with his words whenever he found the time to check up on me. "You know you're my sunshine, right?" he asked once, in between my silly attempts of getting his attention. I didn't actually know how he had been doing and it made me feel guilty. I hoped I'd brought him more happiness than headaches. "We'll be together soon. You just have to wait," he always said. And those were the words I held on to.

Soon.

Very soon.

[nocturnegloam]

Here in the midwest United States, the chilly morning mists are currently giving way to the sunrise set behind overcast, on the passing of this spring equinox, Alban Eiler, and Ostara, among its many other names. There is a distinct and special liminality which the vernal equinox possesses. The day and night come in perfect balance, as light and warmth prepare to inherit the Earth. 

As life cultivates in all its forms and motions, so do we. Even in the current global climate, we find ways to adapt and revive with tenacity. Now may be a time more befitting than ever to celebrate and appreciate the fire within our hearts, and circulate our feelings of love, inspiration, motivation, and gratitude through the collective. 

Of course, it is essential that in celebrating the passing of the seasons, we remain considerate of all life in our observance. This remains especially true during the current pandemic. Try not turn to fret in haste, though—even in the face of life’s uncertainty, we can find inspiration, clarification, comfort, growth, direction, balance, protection, personal action, and more.

Even for the best of us, the world will always procure unexpected circumstance, such as the current pandemic. When the life we share urgently calls, planning for things that may be deeply sacred to us may slip through our fingers. We should not let this “ebb” of the natural ebb and flow discourage us on our sabbatical or spiritual journey, lest our practices become “chores”, rather than extraordinary connections with ourselves and the beyond. The “ebb” is there to teach us something, to urge us to look deeply within ourselves. Even when the state of the world becomes seemingly inextricable, our sabbatical and spiritual practices can remain as mechanisms of divine retreat and reinvigoration.

Last night, when reading tarot, I pulled The World. Through quite a bit of reflection with this absolutely evocative card, I came to the conclusion that I wanted to help my small locale reconnect with the Earth and its seasons. To help them reconnect with their deepest selves as authentically as possible. To be a small catalyst, and a gentle guide on a path they walk all their own. 

Originally, this post was only going to be a simple list of ideas on how to celebrate this equinox during the pandemic, with social distancing and conservation of supplies (mainly food) in mind. I.e, you’ll need no more supplies than yourself and what you’ve already got at hand. In truth, that is still all it's going to be, following these paragraphs. But after meditating this morning, I felt I should share deeper insight in the simple hopes it might inspire someone else. Or, just simply cheer them up.

To whoever reads this, this is for you—and I hope you have a splendid spring equinox. I hope you can make it something all your own. I hope you find healing, revitalization, balance and more.

Best regards, Sierra

Ideas for the observation and celebration of the spring equinox/Alban Eiler/Ostara, with the pandemic, social distancing, and food conservation in mind:

General correspondences:

Colors: Pastels, green, yellow, and pink.

Plants: Comprehensive list here.

Trees: Birch, ash, and alder.

Animals: Hares, snakes, birds, baby animals, caterpillars, ladybugs, and bees.

Crystals: Ultimately up to your own discretion, color correspondences work just fine. Specific crystals can include quartz (clear and rose), aquamarine, moonstone, jade, amethyst, and more.

Incense: Anything floral, light, fresh, or sweet-smelling.

Element: Air

Symbols: Eggs, hare/snake/bird guarding an egg, spring flowers, feathers, sprouts, shamrocks, and trefoils/trinities/triplicities.

Themes: Light, balance, cleansing and healing, feminimity, fertility, fruition and abundance, love and attraction, blessing the home.

Decorate your altar with the holiday correspondences! Ideas for items to include are potted plants, crystals, ribbons, budding branches, dried flowers or herbs, clovers, a small glass of milk and honey, baskets, seed packets, incense and feathers, and figurines of deities or baby animals. 

If you don’t have any of these items readily available, replace them with themed drawings, paintings, or your own creations for the equinox. Make your altar as simple as you need to. Right now, social distancing and food conservation are more important than picking up a few extra supplies.

When you get hungry, you can make meals including fresh fruits, spring greens and vegetables, sweets (especially cakes), nuts and seeds, floral teas, lemonade, eggs, fish, and more.

Leave offerings of non-crucial supplies to deities, the Fae, spirits, ancestors, familiars, the element of air, or any other relevant entity of your choice. Write them a short poem, prayer, letter, etc. Take a moment to center yourself. Read your prose and give the offering, and express gratitude for their guidance. If you wish, burn a candle or incense in their name, as well.

Perform a ritual to commune with your entities of choice, or to your deepest self. Or, the ritual can be performed to welcome spring into your life and into your home. It can be as simple or elaborate as you wish. When communing, focus on the theme correspondences I listed above if you would like a targeted ritual for the holiday.

Perform your favorite form of divination, and ask questions/seek guidance relating to the themes of the equinox. Here are some examples:

What seeds should I plant to grow into my fullest fruition?

Who or what aspect of my life brings me warmth and growth, like the sun itself?

What can I do to make my mind as clear as the snow melt streams?

What has this winter taught me?

What parts of myself should be reborn, and what parts of myself should melt away?

How can I nurture new opportunities? 

Make equinox water by leaving a bowl of water outside from sunrise until noon. Or, set it out at the exact time or the equinox and leave it outside overnight. You can use this as a spell component later.

Make a symmetrical crystal grid to symbolize balance, and to charge your crystals. Bonus points if you make it in the shape of an equinox-related symbol, such as a clover. Put a candle in the center of the grid to symbolize growing light. You can chant, sing, play an instrument, pray, or use a singing bowl or chimes for additional charging. If you have enough salt on hand, surround your crystal grid with it, and this will help with cleansing your crystals as well. If your crystals are safe with water (do your research!), you can also cleanse them with salt water, spell water, or moon water spray, for a mess-free cleanse. You could also waft incense smoke over them, if you wish.

Dilute your favorite floral, fresh, or sweet essential oils, herbs, and salt in plenty of water, to make a cleansing spray, or to add to mop water for spring cleaning. Make sure to enchant the mixture with visualization or other techniques. Say a prayer or chant over it, or repeat a strong and specific statement of intention over it three times. There are other methods you can use to activate it, as well. Be safe and do your research when using any essential oils and herbs. Essential oils DO NOT replace proper disinfecting supplies.

Spring cleaning: Sweep, dust, scrub, and mop, finish the laundry, change your home’s air filters, organize your pantry and refrigerator, rearrange your furniture, etc. all while practicing visualization. Chanting or singing, or incorporating spell components when cleaning helps, too. 

Take part in your favorite meditations and breathing exercises for basic grounding and clearing. Pro-tip, doing this outside (where you aren’t in contact with anyone else) is extremely helpful in connecting with the season. If you can’t go outside, turn on nature audio tracks or springtime fantasy music.

Write down your wishes and goals for the next six months, and record your reflection of today’s holiday. Hide or bury the list somewhere (you can bury it in a fake egg if you want to be festive). It is said to be good luck to wish upon the spring equinox in this way, and to plant your goals like seeds to grow over the next six months. Excavate it at the next equinox, and look back on your reflections and what you have accomplished.

Perform general item enchantments, or enchant pastel-colored clothing, accessories, or makeup items with glamour or attraction magic. Choose any attribute related to the spring equinox, that you would like others to see in you when you wear this specific item. Or, enchant the item to attract people with those attributes. There are a number of ways you can perform enchantments. My favorite process for enchantment is as follows:

Pick the item. Cleanse it with salt water, moon water, smoke, the light of the full moon, a clear quartz crystal, or clearing visualizations. Then, charge the item with sunlight, sound, or burying.

Place a ward on the item. First, cast a circle to block outside influence, if you wish. Then, place the object near protective “enhancers” (crystals, herbs, etc. if you have them, this is by no means required). Finally, say a prayer, chant, or repeat a strong and specific statement of protection over the item while visualizing a protective sheath around it. When finished, announce your conclusion. Break the circle, or, move on to the next step. Alternatively to all of this, you can create a protection sigil (don’t forget to charge and seal it after you create it), let the object sit on the sigil overnight, and destroy the sigil the next day. This will also place a protective ward on the item.

Enchant the item. This process is similar to warding, but rather than focusing on statements of protection, you are focusing on your statement of intention. Ask yourself questions like: What do you want others to see in you when you wear this enchanted object? What perspectives and energy do you want to dispel? What do you want to attract in others? Cast a circle with your corresponding intention “enhancers” (crystals, herbs, sigils, etc), if you wish, and answer those questions. Use your answers to come up with a strong and specific statement of intention, a prayer, chant, etc. While reciting your choice of prose over the object, visualize the energy from yourself and your “enhancers” entering the object. When the collective energy reaches a peak, drive the last of the energy into the object and announce your conclusion. Seal the item with a good squeeze, a splash of salt/moon water, or a dash of salt. Take a moment to center and ground yourself with the object, and break your circle. Your enchantment is complete.

Create or perform other types of spells (there is no way I could list all of them) with the equinox theme correspondences I listed above. Here are more general ideas for what I couldn’t encompass in this post:

Examples of types of spells: Blessing or consecreation spells for the self and home. Love and attraction spells. Cleansing and healing spells. Warding and protection spells. Spells for restoration of personal balance. Spells for fertility (for the surrounding land, or the self). Enchant items to make charms, amulets, or talismans with attributes relating to the spring equinox, etc.

Examples of types of magic: Air elemental magic, crystal magic, tea magic, bath spells and rituals, jar/satchet magic, glamour magic, sex magic, hearth magic, plant magic, knot magic, poppet magic, sigil magic, planetary magic, astrological magic, sorcery and summoning magic, deity/ancestor work, faerie magic, hedge magic, divination magic, and more.

Please feel free to use any of these ideas, to adapt them in your own ways, or to add on more ideas, information, or recommendations! Happy equinox to you all.

[mightysteelix]

Breaking Buttons

Title: Breaking Buttons Fandom: Fate/Stay Pairings: Lancer/Archer Summary:

"What's your big discovery, o, mage greater than Medea?"

Emiya walked from behind the kitchen counter to Cu. "Hoho," Cu whistled, "have my habits rubbed onto you?"

Overnight Emiya had fattened up. Not by much - but his love of skintight clothes showed the little belly he had gotten. His armor rounded a little around the slight bump. "A temporary side effect," he explained. "If we cannot avoid the spell with trickery, I offer brute force. We'll grow you faster than the clothes. What do you say?"

Why is writing so hard? Half the time I have no idea what to write, and when I have I can't put it in words. Luckily it gets easier if I manage to start (somehow). Sorry this story took so long! Cu and Emiya have become my fave dynamic, so you'll be getting lots of them!

All comments are welcome!

"G' morning," Cu yawned. Servants could exist without sleep, but Cu napped every so often. He used to go and sleep in trees - but now that had become only a dream for him. In theory, Servants had no weight; in practice, Cu swore he had heard the branches creaking.

Cu turned to look for his boyfriend. No Emiya in sight. How much like him to sneak out in the night after Cu had fallen asleep. The Archer barely stayed still for a minute; only after much coaxing, Cu got him in the bed for a pleasant cuddle session and it took some big promises.

"What am I finding in you?" Cu quipped to himself. He sniffed the air - heavy smell of fried dough. "Here's my answer. Better walk down, or he'll drag me to breakfast." Cu laughed - even with his full power, could Emiya move him in this state? "I'll test it on another day; now I must keep an oath."

‘I will eat however much you cook for me.' One nap ago, Cu had agreed. With cleared head, the idea charmed him even more. Getting the coveted cuddles and the tastiest food in the world?

Cu stomped - so far with the weightless Servants - on the floor. While he was halfway sitting, his belly jutted over the tight boxers he was wearing. He gave it a rub, jiggling the soft flab. It rippled like jello under his fingers, before settling a bit over his hips. Not little for a month of feasting - but not close to the best Cu could put out.

"Time to up my game," Cu promised to himself. First step - breakfast.

Cu was dashing down the stairs, when Emiya spoke. "Put on some clothes,” ordered he.

"Please," Cu replied. "You love my body, right?"

"Doesn't matter. Even if Psyche herself came here for breakfast, I would make her put on clothes." Emiya walked from behind the counter.

"No arguing with you, huh?" Cu poked his flabby roll, drawing the finger up to his chest. "If I must…"

"Put on clothes. And ensure its extra tight. Or you have don't want to grow out of your clothes?"

"Really?" Cu's eyes lit up. He ran to Emiya, his belly flopping up and down. "You could have started with this."

"And miss your begging puppy eyes? Never." Emiya smirked.

"If anyone else called me a puppy, I'd kill them. Don't abuse your pass too much." Cu teased. "Now, what to put on?"

Without waiting for a reply, Cu conjured his casual clothes. The Hawaiian shirt - a moment away from breaking - clung tight to his body. It forced his gut in a little. Buttons dug deep in his flesh. Windows in the strained fabric showed off his skin. A single bite and he would explode out of it - if not for the Servant's magic, which expanded his clothes with him. His pants fared just as poorly; the single button hung for its dear life. They stayed pulled up, his belly hanging over the band. Cu's ass almost oozed out of them.

Cu sat by the table. "Have you found a way to stop the spell? Because even Caster said it was impossible before you dragged me away." He laughed - that memory always got a reaction.

Emiya blushed redder than his coat. "Only you would ask ‘Hey, is there a way to make me outgrow my clothes?' while walking on the street. Most people have something called shame for your information."

"Yeah, like one specific man, who cannot eat in pajamas. Even Kotomine was laxer than you." Cu leaned back, tilting his chair, arms behind his head. "What's the matter with breakfast in underpants?"

"Matter of principle," Emiya replied sharply. "Yes, I don't have right to speak of principles," he said as Cu opened his mouth. "You are not the first to complain."

"The girl, too? Huh, never thought she'd also leave clothes for last." A wistful smile formed on Cu's lips. "She should have summoned me."

"You both would sleep through the whole morning. Maybe the rest of the day, too. I'd take waking up you over her."

"Just say you love me." Cu smiled. "There, much more simple."

Emiya rubbed his forehead. He looked as if he was planning a murder - another typical day.

"I should have betrayed you all for Caster. She did not bug me before breakfast."

"And who's not served breakfast yet?" Faux pouts worked wonders against Emiya. "What's your big discovery, o, mage greater than Medea?"

Emiya walked from behind the kitchen counter to Cu. "Hoho," Cu whistled, "have my habits rubbed onto you?"

Overnight Emiya had fattened up. Not by much - but his love of skintight clothes showed the little belly he had gotten. His armor rounded a little around the slight bump. "A temporary side effect," he explained. "If we cannot avoid the spell with trickery, I offer brute force. We'll grow you faster than the clothes. What do you say?"

Cu jumped out of his chair. "You are the best boyfriend ever!" He pulled Emiya close to himself and kissed him. Their hot lips touched. Emiya hugged his boyfriend, his fingers digging deep in the soft love handles. "A genius!"

"It's nothing much - a slight enchantment on the food." Emiya pecked Cu on the lips again and let him. "But works perfectly for our goals." He brought a tower of pancakes, stacked so high that it reached for the ceiling.

"Where's the rest?" Usually, Emiya would overload the table with plates - they stayed put only by a miracle.

"Think of this as a test run. The spell took most of my morning. And there's always lunchtime…"

Cu attacked the tower while listening to Emiya. The endless piles of food used to frighten him more than Queen Mebd. If not for Emiya's endless reassuring, teasing and taunting, he would not… Well, he'd reach so far - but far slower. What hero would ever surrender?

Puffy, sweet taste filled Cu's mouth. Mmm! Emiya's food amazed him as always. Pancakes, as fluffy as clouds, melted and left a dreamy fulfillment. Each sugary gulp fell in Cu's throat and reached to his stomach.

"You realize we are racing against the spell, right?" Just on time, Emiya's remark came. "You can enjoy the taste later."

"It's crime not to relish this!"

"Note taken; next time I'll cook utterly tasteless food. Unless you up your game now."

Emiya was bluffing; as if that slave to perfection could sabotage himself. Still, he had right.

"Sorry, taste buds," Cu said. "But if Emiya asks for the hungry monster…"

A beast he would get. With a primal force that frightened Ireland's worst monsters, Cu tore through the pancakes. The tower disappeared, bite by bite. Four, five, six - now on his seventh pancake Cu still did not feel full at all. Eight, nine… His buttons dug in the soft flesh. Bits of skin showed through the gaps in the fabric. The shirt grew to cover his body, yet his belly rounded faster. Each bite turned in fat immediately and his gut became larger. Yet not fast enough.

Thirteen. Cu's belly reached his legs. His shirt - driven by powerful magic - fought to keep him restrained. It squished him like a sausage - big, fat sausage forced in too tight packaging. He felt on his last legs - but then, the shirt would be, too! Cu leaned forwards for pancake fourteen, his arm brushing against his enormous gut. One bite - one little bite more and he would win. He chewed and gulped down, feeling his belly expand…

Pop! One of the buttons - unable to withstand the pressure - broke and flew forward. Finally! Cu inhaled, smiling and content. Emiya put a hand on the revealed patch of flesh.

"Wow, big guy! You did it!"

"How could I not?" Cu breathed slowly. "When I have the best chef for myself. Damn -" he looked down.

Cu had grown wide. Fat jutted out of his sides. His belly - as big and round as a beach ball - exploded in all directions. "You are right," he said. "Wow!" He smacked his belly. The sensation traveled through the fat, almost reaching the middle of his huge gut. "So," he turned to Emiya, "you mentioned lunch…"

[chippyskylark]

get to know: chippington ‘chip’ skylark the third. 

chip skylark finds himself the third of his name. his grandmother lifts the small child into her arms, cooing that she loves her little chippy to the moon and back. she’s the first in the family to call him chip, and the name sticks better than junior or chippington does. he knows his grandfather and father wish he’d just ride out chippington like they did, but honestly it gets too confusing and chip has always felt way more like him. only his grandma and mom can call him chippy though, and he blushes every time. 

he comes from a line of musically inclined men. his grandfather, the first chippington skylark, found himself the frontman of a joropo band back in his home of venezuela. chippington skylark and the noah’s arkestra found themselves playing any bar or party that would allow them, and soon they rose to popularity in caracas, and even went on to play shows in the second home of joropa (colombia) and other countries and cities in the region. chippington the second would expand on his father’s budding fame, finding himself popular on the latin charts for adopting the sounds of salsa as that became popular. chip falls in love with the music of his grandfather, finds comfort in the strum of the guitar and the folk tales he weaves with his lyrics. chip is even more amazed by his father, the master performer. he’s inspired by the way a band of horns and percussion can fill the room with such lively music, as his father sings songs of love and lust all while looking charming as ever in the process. it’s decided before chip can even properly learn how to form his own sentences that he would be a man of the music as well. 

chip doesn’t mind that his life was laid out for him already, not really. he loves music, finds himself beating the timbale and shaking a pandeiro anytime he accompanies his dad to work. chip’s only real concern is what path would he follow? his grandfather and father had already accomplished so much, who could he possibly be if not stuck in their shadow? in his younger years, he had no real answer for this question. just knows that he loves the stage. 

chip primarily stayed with his mother in new jersey. she thought it best to keep him from the hectic lifestyle his father lead, urging that he should be allowed a normal life and childhood. chip, however, had other plans. he was only eight years old when he first hit the stage. it was a local talent show and he’d begged and pleaded with his mother to let him sing; she finally gave in and he performed ahora te puedes marchar. along with singing the upbeat luis miguel song, chip had also done his best to choreograph a little dance to go along with his performance. the audience loved him, eating up his floppy hair and bright smile almost as much as they were awed by his talent. 

chip’s life became nonstop performing since that moment. entering any talent showcase he could find, hoping to continue to impress crowds and make everyone dance and fall in love with him and the music he sang. his father couldn’t be more pleased with how well every audience received his son’s gifts. if you dig on the internet enough you can find a few videos of a little chip joining his father onstage to sing and dance his father’s famed music with him. don’t play it in front of him though, he’ll look away and blush the second you start going ‘awwwww’. 

chip begins to incorporate more american pop songs in his showcase entries. it makes sense, it’s the music everyone around him listens to and as much as audiences love watching him dance bachata and salsa they seem to connect with his performances better when it’s in a language they can understand. he has no negative feelings about it, even to this day. he has no negative feelings about most things, his words and thoughts drowning in positivity and optimism because he prefers to look at the brighter side of all things. 

he’s thirteen when he gets discovered by a label executive. the initial meeting for the board of executives of his future label was the most nerve wracking experience of chip’s life at that point. chip knows he can wow an audience, it’s the one thing he knows for sure he’s good at. but something about this initial meeting deciding his fate makes his stomach turn. he’s sure he’s going to be sick before it, afraid that he’s going to puke the entire time he rides up to the top floor in the elevator. chip gets through it though, showing off every skill in his arsenal: he’s singing, he’s dancing, he’s playing guitar, he’s interacting with faces in the room, he’s switching between languages easily, and he’s working that smile. 

it goes without saying that the label is impressed and chip gets signed almost immediately. everything else from then on moves pretty quickly for him. he focuses almost all his energy on recording an album as quickly as he can. songs are presented to him daily, and he’s given a team focused with constructing an image for him. he never strays from what’s put before him, even if he’d want to sing a different song than the one he learned the day before, or if he’s not sure he wants to do this particular piece of choreography. chip is honestly just so happy for the opportunity he hardly bats an eye. 

his rise to fame is just as fast and hard to wrap his head around. he would never call himself an overnight sensation, too many years of long hard work went into it, but that’s what the news anchors call him. his first single debuts on the bubbling under of the hot 100, but after significant radio push and some televised appearances it skyrockets to the top ten of the billboard charts. seemingly out of nowhere he’s music’s newest obsession and he couldn’t be more excited. he goes from singing at neighbor’s birthday parties to mall tours and sold out venues. his parents pull him out of school and set him up with a tutor, and well, the rest of his childhood dies right along with that decision. 

he’s a pop phenomenon and he, at first, couldn’t be happier. his first album goes multi platinum and he performs at almost every award show you could think of. hell, there’s even people walking around wearing the same stupid red hat and hoodie combo his team made his signature look. but the being followed by paparazzi and chased by fans starts to become a little too much to handle a little too soon. he won’t complain though, he’s doing what he loves. 

chip still loves performing and singing, but his label has complete control of every aspect of his image and sound. and while that was cool when he was a teen, he’s desperate for some more control and creative (and financial) freedom. 

he’s not mad at the teeny bopper image he’s cultivated. where most people would try to distance themselves from the type of music he made early in his career he never openly rips on it, even in his adulthood. while it’s not the music he’d want to make now, he knows that music is important to his fans. just because something isn’t his favorite doesn’t mean he’s going to ruin it for someone else, he’d never disappoint someone like that. 

chronic people pleaser!!!! he literally can not function or cope with the knowledge that something he did could be upsetting someone else. even if the task you give him comes at great personal sacrifice to him, he’ll do it with a smile. He just wants everyone to be happy, even if right now, he’s not the happiest. 

Now that he’s a grown man he’s struggling with what’s his next move musically. He’s already done something no one else with the skylark name has been able to do: break american radio, and his grandfather and father couldn’t be more proud of his success. but he finds himself yearning for the freedom and maturity their music possesses. he’s certain he still wants to make pop music at this point, he’s just struggling with how to make it more adult and what new things he can experiment with. 

Re-released his first and second album with some of the more popular songs stripped down and sung in spanish. it’s his labels idea of compromising on the fact that he wanted to make music that represented all parts of who he is as a person. also has like one or two latin pop songs that crushed the charts worldwide, the success of those songs made his label discuss the validity of him doing a full latin album like he’d been requesting for years. that album never came. 

practically scandal-less. He’s dated his fair share of pop stars and models, but those break ups always end amicably and none of his former partners have ever had anything negative to say about him. the media wanted so badly to run a “bad boy” thing with him but they just can’t, he’s such a good boy. 

when he was fourteen he did a campaign for those stupid singing tooth brushes. my shiny teeth and me follows him everywhere now, and you know what, he’s not even mad about it, he sometimes jokes that song is more popular than a lot of his actual serious music.  go king! teach the youth proper dental hygiene!

his concerts are always so much fun. Again, so inspired by his dad as a performer so he always goes all out. He gives 110% every time no matter what. Is he tired? Of course. Does he need a nap? Definitely. Has he gone on stage ten minutes after puking his guts out because of a flu? Yeah….it was still a good show though, you couldn’t even really tell he was sick! 

struggling HARD with anxiety. large crowds of people around him start to freak him out, and even though most would think he should be used to it, he’s been mobbed by too many groups of fans to ever be used to it. he’s no stranger to hiding out in the back of an empty store for a second to get away. he’s always embarrassed when his management has to kick everyone else out the store and lock the doors for his sake, but if it helps...it helps. 

WANTED CONNECTIONS. 

help him w his anxiety? so mayhaps a friend, a confidante? also an actual therapist yep. 

chip’s big struggle is how to move forward without disappointing his fans so maybe a fan that he becomes friendly with that can yanno remind him that most of them will love him no matter what. or at least serve as a reminder of why he does this. 

if y’all got characters that wanna roast the shiny teeth guy i won’t be opposed. he’s also so nice he probably wouldn’t be too bothered so that’s frustrating and fun 

fellow musicians always

friends who either have no clue who he is or don’t care would be real nice

anything at all. also always down for angst as always. 

[its-farhanhridoy-us]

Why hire an SEO expert

SEO isn't just tweaking an internet site to realize high program ranks. it's a completely different technique that involves activities like developing content strategies, keyword research, content writing, creating FB fan pages, optimization of homegrown businesses, tracking progress and implementing all the newest SEO tactics and practices. The key responsibilities of a best SEO expert revolve around an entire group of activities which a developer can't handle exclusively. it's the most reason behind the companies to rent the services of a reliable program optimization expert to cater their SEO and SEM must put them before their competitors.

In the matter of program optimization we discover big talks are out! Every SEO optimizers are assuring of best results. But before you hire SEO expert attemption to confirm some points. I even have tried to place down a couple of . Hope these are available your help for getting proper SERP with PR in other words ROI needless to saye.

Nowadays, websites became the new source through which a business gets to expand their empire. A well-optimized website gets to face call at the gang instead of a well-designed website. an enquiry Engine Optimized website's pivotal role is to urge you the specified traffic to uplift the glory of your website. it's not an overnight process, there are days of research, sculpting out the simplest strategies then letting the google crawlers index your website to proclaim its existence on the web platform. Hire dedicated SEO experts who will guide you into the spotlight on the Google Search Pages. knowledgeable SEO is someone who is familiar with all the strategies that are coated with ethical approaches, fetching success on the planet Wide Web platform. Hiring SEO experts from Techno Infonet will surely convince be an apt decision to reinforce your online presence. the necessity to take care of online reputation has extended over the years with more and more businesses switching to the web marketing strategies. Make yourself found on the web platform by adhering to the program Optimization strategies.

Hire SEO Expert Services

Any business having an internet site needs the techniques through which the web site ranking are often improved to greater level amongst the opposite competitors in order that more business are often gained than them. These techniques to realize these results is understood as SEO or program Optimization, which is completely inevitable for the web site holders to require up if they have to urge their website on the upper search results on the search engines.

Why you ought to Have an SEO Expert together with your Development Team

SEO or program Optimization has become a necessity in today's ever-changing world of technology. so as to create program friendliness into your ASCII text file , you would like an SEO expert that communicates directly with the event team. This person will have many job responsibilities like implementing SEO tips and tricks on your website, building solid inbound links, and submitting your website to popular search engines and directories online. program optimization experts keep introducing new techniques every now and again and an SEO expert should learn these on time to assist you get before your competitors.

SEO recommendations on Hiring an SEO Expert

All business or company websites will want to maximise and optimize their website to form sure they get an honest listing in program results. But this may not be possible unless your website is under the work of SEO experts. Most big businesses will have a allow a social media marketing team and a team for program optimization. However, alittle and budding business might not have the cash to afford of these . But don't dismay as there are many SEO experts and consultants that you simply can still hire. this is often a more cost effective move for little business owners. To be ready to assist you choose an SEO consultant here are some SEO tips.

SEO Expert - The Success Path

The article is written for the mid and top management of the corporate and what they have to understand about SEO and Internet marketing to require a far better decision. What are the steps to success to future profitability of your online business? What are the steps to look engine or SEO optimization?

[earnestly-ernie]

[ kj apa, twenty one, cis male, he/him ] ━ hey, I just saw [ ernie taera ] walking down the streets of crownsville. they’ve lived in town for [ one week ], and you can catch them around town working as a [ personal trainer ]. I hear they’re known to be [ loyal & passionate ] and [ gullible & possessive ]. if asked, they would say their aesthetic would be [ gym equipment, eating fastfood late at night in car park, varsity jackets, cologne, band posters, flannel, beaches ]

re-reading the rules to double check i had everything down and seeing the possibility of a second muse made my indecisive brain very happy ahhh

below the cut is ernie’s history, some personality tidbits and wanted connections!!

 (i was gonna do sth like i did for blair’s intro post but im lazy sksks)

history

ernie was born as the second child of four in wellington, nz to a samoan father and a british woman

he likes to think he was named after ernest hemmingway or one of the kings of hanover but everyone jokes he was named after the sesame street character

his family growing up were super close and often did a ton of stuff together; this was seen as abnormal in the immediate community because both of his parents were high up business people and the stereotype was that they didn’t have time for family

ernie grew up with a stronger sense of his maternal heritage as his father lost his family when he was quite young and thus didn’t immerse himself in his culture; ernie, concurrently, is trying to explore his samoan heritage

growing up, ernie was your typical kid who liked video games; he had a particular love for pokemon, mario and nintendogs. he was also into the grand theft auto series but mostly driving about and not doing the missions

he got into rugby around the age of nine and proved to be fairly decent at it; he eventually joined the school teams for it and looked to have a promising career if he ever wanted to take it professionally

fairly popular throughout all forms of schooling; it took a dip when he was fifteen and was unashamedly open about his bi-curiosity

for the most part, however, he had a ton of friends at any given point in his life

at the age of eighteen he was scouted by one of the professional rugby teams in new zealand and became a professional rugby player

was pencilled in to join the all blacks but ended up being unable to due to a career ending injury; he had to become ambidextrous because of the injury

he ended up getting a degree in physiology and did a few courses in coaching and refereeing in rugby but ended up becoming a reputable personal trainer mostly because it paid a bit better

has moved to crownsville with the plan for it to be temporary. he always said he’d live in another country and the quaint town life was appealing to him. 

though he has plans to move back to new zealand in about three or four years, he’s open to being convinced to stay longer

personality (starting with the four listed traits)

loyal - ernie is a fiercely loyal individual. whilst growing up he had a ton of friends, he had barely any close friends and he actively chose to be loyal to them in case they were to abandon him. spurred on further by his close familial relationships and the brotherhood of the rugby teams he was a part of, ernie is as loyal as any dog

passionate - one of the standout things is that ernie will always throw himself into things, whether that be a friendship, relationship, job, hobby - whatever. ernie always gives 110% and has a tendency to dedicate his life to his interests. he’s particularly passionate about dogs and rugby

gullible - whilst not pertaining wholly to the ‘dumb jock’ stereotype, ernie isn’t going to win any awards for his academic knowledge. he was able to excel at his degree because he knew a lot of it from the practical side of rugby, rather than raw knowledge. though his gullibility does mean he can sometimes be led to believe the wrong facts, it largely centres around his loyal nature. if a client was to tell him they couldn’t meet for a session and lie, saying it was because their hamster died, ernie would become sentimental and empathetic and offer all the support. likewise, if you tell him something’s written on the ceiling, he’ll look. every. single. time!!

possessive - for however loyal ernie is, he also can get possessive. largely thanks to having few close friends growing up, ernie is the type of person to feel threatened when he sees close friends get close to other people, largely out of a fear of being replaced. whilst this is largely centred around relationships, he can also get possessive over objects he owns, a notable example being the car he has because he retains he worked hard for it and thus nobody else can drive it. he’s trying to be less manically obsessed with things, but it’s a hard trait to shrug off overnight. 

in a basic sense, ernie is the personal trainer who’ll hype you up and want to be your best friend. bright and nearly always smiley, it seems hard to dampen his mood

he’s a massive teddy bear and  l o v e s cuddles!!! his favourite cuddle buddy at the moment is his german shepherd puppy, cato

always!! means!! well!!! is known to make a lot of social faux pas (he blames it on the american culture being different to the new zealander and british ones he grew up with) but tries his best

still always uses british english, though

sarcastic!! tongue in cheek is his favourite type of humour. he is partial to dark humour but is aware it’s not everyone’s cup of tea

very emotional in that he wears his emotions on his face; it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to know when he’s feeling down

isn’t the type of person to vent without permission but, when you give it to him, he won’t shut up

he could talk for ages about literally nothing, let alone something he’s interested in

proud of his bisexuality, largely because he had wanted to be a role model in the rugby field for any fledgling players who felt the same way

having a career ending injury literally in his second year of his career is a sore spot for him, so don’t mention it often unless you want a sad ernie :(

honestly just a massive puppy, love him

fun facts!

is ambidextrous; naturally left handed but a rugby injury meant he had to learn how to write with his right hand (though it’s healed, he often finds that his left wrist is prone to aching quicker so he’s pretty much exclusively a right-handed writer)

does a mean english accent (specifically upper middle class just like his mum; think the crown-ish)

though his scottish and irish accents are pitiful, he could convince you that he’s welsh given a proficiency in his accent

has a german shepherd puppy called cato

is allergic to peanuts

has a big issue with the texture of food; would genuinely take the time to take the seeds off of a strawberry

isn’t a fan of diets; believes in the ‘eat what you want but in moderation’ style

wanted connections!

friends

a friend that’s taken him under their wing

hookups (m/f)

budding romances

clientele 

workout buddies

rugby friends

literally anything im indecisive!!

i feel like i could’ve done more but!! that’s all i could think of ahhh

if you want to plot with ernie, like this post and i’ll come im you (or you can spam my inbox with any ideas you might have sksksks)!!

[funkymbtifiction]

Si-Fe-Ti-Ne or Ne-Fi-Te-Si? (non- stereotypical)

Hey mods! 

I would like to ask an unusual question.

Could you please help me to determine if someone is an enfp or an isfj? I am astonishingly lost.  Both personalities are perceiving dominants, so they prefer to collect information, and are therefore not quickly to judge or form long term decisions fast. Both are feelers, so they judge by a value system first. They both have F/T in the middle of their stack, so they back up their feelings with logic and switch between both easily and fast. 

They both use Ne, so their ideas are multi-focused not single focused like Ni. They both use Si so their memories are self referencing and smells, touches, sounds, remind them of personal times.  If the person is not well balanced they might get into a grip, so the isfj will act like Ne, and the enfp will act like a Si. But if they are balanced they won’t show the typical stereotypical behavior of their inferior function Ne/Si. 

Looping they have SiTi and NeTe, which are different, one is extroverted and the other introverted, but both have a perceiving and a detached function operating, one would be more focused on understanding systems and the other on creating, but how can you know if the person is looping or if they are just using their entire stack?

To me those are the two more similar types and I just can’t determine which one fits accurately.  I do know that Te is different than Ti and Fe is different than Fi, but together Fi/Te and Fe/Ti they seem the same somehow. I have read extensively about each function and each function in characters, but an isfj and a enfp both healthy are too similar in my mind.

Could you please contrast a 2w1 6w7 1w9 so/sx isfj and a 2w1 6w7 1w9 so/sx enfp? ( I know enneagram is not something we should use to compare types, but otherwise they would be too different)

I appreciate the help. I know it doesn’t make sense to mix the both of them up, but I am just stuck in it.  Thanks.

ENFPs and ISFJs are really… not alike. At all. Their blind spots are way different. Even when healthy, you’re going to see the areas in which they make consistent mistakes and cause conflict with others.

In a nutshell, an ENFP reacts quickly in the moment, needing no down time to respond to things going on in their environment. They can come up with things on the fly, they have no trouble adjusting their plans at the last second (may even do so voluntarily), and they have excellent short-term foresight. By that, I mean their Ne/Te can see how doing THIS will play out and resolve THAT PROBLEM within a relatively short amount of time. Nip it right in the bud. And because they’re a high Intuitive, presuming they are healthy, it works, because the idea is “good.” The area in their life, however, that causes them the most frustration, anxiety, and even conflict lies with… Si. Details. They’re dreadful at it. Things like remembering people’s names, remembering details of things they have created, retaining information and, above all, route learning (so as to become an expert, and not just a “fill in the blanks and hope for the best” person) is hard for them. Where will they screw up at work? Details. Where will they screw up with friends? Details. What’s the biggest source of their frustration? Details. Their biggest single problem is rushing to implement their new ideas, without stopping to consider the plausibility or work involved – in other words, the details necessary to make it work.

Details are what the ISFJ excels at. No problem. They know how to memorize and learn. More than that, they have the patience to learn things properly. To spend hours and hours practicing their technique and honing their skills. It’s the difference between a Ne-dom who says, “I want to become an expert pianist,” and buys a keyboard, but finds the basic books they have to practice with boring and gives up after two weeks because they haven’t become an expert overnight (unrealistic Ne-dom expectation, accompanied by grand dreams of playing in front of a massive crowd and being marveled at), and the patient Si-dom who starts out with the beginner book, masters that, moves on to the next book, masters that, moves on to the next, masters that… and winds up a flawless pianist, because they did it right. They followed the tried-and-true method they knew would lead to success, if you followed each step. And they did each step. Over and over, until it comes second nature to them.

The Ne-dom has trouble finding the patience for that. An ENFP will only do it if it’s absolute what their Fi values and desires – if their lifelong dream is to become a pianist, they will learn, force themselves to take the “slow path” (unlike the speed train they’re usually on); but in general, slow and steady brings success route does not come naturally to them. So, they’ll be an expert, detailed pianist… and in all the rest of their life, back to half-assed fast.

No, where the ISFJ fails is in abstract concepts. Seeing what is possible with a positive attitude, and believing it can and will happen; being excited for it (instead of fearful). Inferior Ne misreads situations – badly. It attributes the wrong motives to things, because it’s out of touch with the environment. That “see the problem coming and head it off” that Ne/Te is so good at, inferior Ne can’t do. You will see the difference, because strong Ne resolves issues in the present and near future skillfully, whereas a low Ne’s hasty impulsive “fix” may worsen the problem and/or underestimate the severity of it. High Ne is better at accurately evaluating genuine threats; low Ne may choose the wrong threat to focus on, and miss the actual one, because of Si/Ne’s tendency to build toward something, rather than Ne/Si’s tendency to be “drifting” in possibilities.

And, of course, FiTe and FeTi’s methods differ. FiTe never mirrors people’s feelings and does not engage in messing with people for fun; sooner or later, you are going to see tert-Te come out and shove people out of the way to get something done, with an attitude of “either help or move.” FeTi does mirror people’s feelings, with the result that the FeTi can lose a sense of their own feelings and what they want, while being better at reading other people’s needs. Fe will try persuasion and organizing others to accomplish, at times (not always, sometimes ISFJs want to be left alone to work), but it’s focus is always on what others want, need, and how they’re feeling. Fi’s focus is always on being “true to myself” (but with a healthy Fi, “but also kind to YOU”).

A 2 fix isn’t going to magically make a Fi able to mirror people; they will simply do kind things for others, using their Te to accomplish it, and crave love. Think about Arwen in The Lord of the Rings. As a Fi, she wanted to keep social harmony with her loved ones. She tried to please her father by leaving Middle-earth – and then returned, because it wasn’t true to herself, to her Fi, to what she wanted. Despite being devoted to Aragorn, and a “helper” (2) who motivated, encouraged, and pushed him to be all he could be, she still felt a strong need to be true to herself. She helped, but it was what SHE thought he needed (Fi detachment from Other). Compare that to a 2 Fe, who will ACTUALLY FEEL what people need, and use that to give it to them.

Margaery Tyrell in Game of Thrones is a core 2 and a Fe. She knows what and how to appeal to others, how to seduce them, make them like her, how to smooth things over with them. It’s all about being whatever they need her to be, and in so doing, advancing her own cause (to become queen). But it’s still instant and fully aware of what they want; no guessing.

A 6 anywhere in a stack will make an intuitive more risk-prone than the stereotypes for their type; it will bring out more of a tendency to play it safe and even stay home / not go wandering in an ENFP, but their Si will STILL be awful. 6 doesn’t repair the speed train. They will still make it all up as they go along, and have unrealistic expectations for themselves, and make mistakes based in not thinking through the details. The 6 and Si-dom is pretty much stereotypical 6. Worst-case scenario prone. Risk-adverse. A fear of the unknown. But they will still be good at everything the ENFP isn’t, namely… details. Learning. And repeat, repeat, repeat to reach perfection. A 9 fix will further make the ENFP want to “suppress” their Fi, to get along; make them shut up to be liked and avoid conflict, but there will still be bursts of tert-Te bossiness and bluntness (control freak, and over-using Te, poorly – like a bull in a china shop) you’ll never find in an ISFJ.

Their flaws: the ENFP moves too fast, because they didn’t stop to collect details and everything they needed before they speculated; the ISFJ processes things more slowly and sometimes misses out, because it took them longer to reach a (more detail-accurate) conclusion than the ENFP (but the ENFP’s Ne might have been bang on, it’s just a vague / half-constructed argument).

- ENFP Mod