#and he gets an actual last name. then ill change my tags for him

[grapejuicebluesrry]

28th november fic rec!

*welcome to the final show*

this is the last 28th appreciation of 2024 for me, as i'll be posting my 2024 fic recs in the last week of december so ill just include my december recs in there :)

so! here's my november fic recs:

Eternal Summer (65K) by j_klmnop

After the death of his estranged father, Harry makes the trip from London to Naples, Italy to say his goodbyes. He has seven days before the funeral and since he's on summer break from university, he decides to make a road trip out of it.

His carefully planned trip is thrown a loop when he meets a beautiful blue eyed hitchhiker named Louis, who is trying to escape his controlling family. With no destination in mind— just the desire to get as far away as possible, Louis decides to tag along for the ride to Italy, with plans to continue on once they arrive.

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now that we're alone (say you hate me) (18K) by 28goldensfics | @28goldens

Harry Styles and Louis Tomlinson are Co-Project Managers, constantly bickering at work, always finding themselves at odds, and competing to be the best. When a scheduling mishap with their company’s timeshare forces them to share a summer vacation, they're less than thrilled. But, as they navigate their time together, they realize that their animosity might be masking something a bit deeper than the hate.

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reminiscence (259K) by Fxckinf

“I’ll always look after you.” Louis whispers.

“Always?”

“Always and forever, Harold.”

Or

Louis and Harry were the friends that fell in love and then broke up. Harry tries to navigate having his ex in his friendship group, which only gets harder when it becomes apparent that there’s a secret.

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if we were butterflies (52K) by blueskiesrry | @blueskiesrry

“Is this how I used to look at you?” His hand hovers just over the collarbone of the sculpture, like he’s caught between wanting to touch and wanting to pull away, wanting to leave and wanting to stay.

Eyes stuck on Harry, unaware of anything else in the room, Louis whispers, “Something like that,” wondering now if he ever quite did it justice.

or: after recruiting harry to model for his sculptures and coming to know all his edges, louis loses him to a life more prosperous than he can provide. he finds harry again four years later.

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Seeing Blind (46K) by zedi

Louis finally turns his head in Liam’s direction, knows his face is showing the longing he’s been aching with ever since it took root in his chest. “What the fuck do I do, Liam? He wouldn’t want me like that, but I want-” his voice cracks, and he turns his face back downwards. “What do you do when you’re not perfect for the person who’s perfect for you?”

OR the one where Harry’s an independent omega who likes to have his fun and Louis is the blind alpha that changes Harry’s priorities.

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Stars over Amsterdam (4K) by HelloLovers13 | @hellolovers13

Louis remembers how stressed they were, trying to get tickets at all. The waiting for the email with the code, which only Louis got, the actual On-sale. How Harry stood behind him, peeling at his nails nervously. Trying not to distract Louis.

But it had all gone smoothly and he had gotten the tickets within just a few minutes.

Harry had jumped around Louis’s chair in excitement like a bouncing ball. Already starting to plan their outfits.

A gold fringe dress for Harry, Fearless was his favourite album, after all, and a matching shirt he had found online for Louis. So people could tell right away they were an item.

That was their plan. Before it all went to shit.

or

Fate in form of Eras Tour tickets forces Louis to meet up with his Ex.

Hopefully soon to be Ex-Ex.

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[series] I See Us in Black & White (70K) by Ioudloudlove

Harry Styles is just your average 20-something. He followed his soul to a new town and now he works hard as a barman and lives alone in his little house. That is until he's swept off his feet... literally.

When Harry regains consciousness, his entire world has changed. Everything that was once black and white is now flooded with colour. And the first person he sees is his soulmate...Liam.

What Harry didn't count on was Liam's best mate...Louis. What is it about him that Harry just can't let go of? Why has his entire world been turned around? And is it really possible to walk away from your soulmate to chase a dream?

Original Prompt:

soulmate au where you see the world in black-and-white until you meet your soulmate. Harry Styles meets two people at once at the moment he first sees in colour, makes the wrong choice, and falls in love with the right one anyway

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Whole Lot of History (73K) by Blue_Green28 | @bluegreen28fics

Louis and Harry have a whole lot of history. With 3 children coming out of their twelve years long marriage they are essential parts of each other's lives even though they have moved on with new partners since their divorce ten years ago. Or have they?

What happens when Harry finally gets some money to open the coffee shop he had always dreamed of and they spend more time together to plan everything? Does their love still have a chance?

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Not having a breakdown! (I'm just here for the kid.) (28K) by louisismycat (tiflamomet) | @liminalkitty369

Harry has to park outside his ex-husband’s (Louis) wedding so that he can whisk their kid away if a meltdown ensues during the day. Guests will not know this and will only see him parked outside, it cannot be stressed enough, his ex-husband’s wedding.

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Hazelbridge (77K) by CoolCrying

Nestled in the heart of the Yorkshire Dales, the tiny town of Hazelbridge has been home to Louis and his family for generations. Heir to his grandfather's historic bookshop, Louis lives a quiet but happy life, providing a hub for the town's many queer people, and indulging his love for books. That is, until Harry Styles comes to town.

This is the story of a town and two bookshops. It's the story of a family, and two boys with very different stories, who fell in love.

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At Least Let Me Buy You Dinner First (35K) by Anonymouis

“I said, Harry. As in Styles. AKA you. You’re pretty and certainly a piece of art if you ask me.” Louis mewls.

“Oh,” Harry breathes. He takes a moment taking in Louis.

Louis watches his eyes work their way all over his face and body trying to read him. Luckily, he knows just how to read Harry. The moment their eyes meet again, Louis leans in a little at a time, as slowly as possible. His heart racing, giving Harry all the time to back out, but then, Harry is reaching around Louis’ wrist and sliding their hands together, lacing their fingers and leaning in as well.

Then…

The bell above the door rings.

They both pull back at light speed, sniffling and coughing from almost being caught. Harry trips over his own feet with the force that he used. Giggles fall from both of them while Louis steadies him.

“First day with legs there, bambi?”

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Come What May (58K) by j_klmnop

Louis didn't believe in love at first sight until he met his neighbour Harry, the gorgeous man in the apartment next door who saved lives and had a smile that made his knees weak.

Louis was determined that today was the day he would finally grow some balls and ask Harry on a date.

Until his plans were disrupted by an unexpected delivery. One that would surely ruin his chances at any kind of love life.

Or, maybe it would be just what Louis needed to bring he and Harry closer together.

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2 a.m. texts (30K) by everysingleday

Harry has just come out and, with his best friend Louis’ support, he might finally be brave enough to go on a date with the guy he’s been chatting with on a dating app. Meanwhile, there’s a cat that wants to murder Louis, a fast-approaching deadline for Harry to find a new place to live, and this minor situation wherein he and Louis can’t seem to stop making out. It’s not a big deal. Louis is just being supportive.

—

aka, a practice kissing fic.

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Roman Empire (11K) by Speechless

One day Louis answers Liam's phone while he is in the shower.

That's how he meets Harry, Liam's friend who moved to Italy just a while ago.

And that's how Liam loses ownership of his phone.

“Do they sleep on the other side of the bed in Italy?”

He hears Harry laugh for a moment.

“I sleep right in the middle,” Harry replies. “Because no one will marry me.”

Louis bites back a little smile.

“Have you asked enough people?”

“The old lady walking her dog, just now.” Harry confirms. “She said no.”

Written for the BLFF 2024

Based on prompt 205: A Larry fic that includes the “I love you,” “no, you don’t” convo.

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stat time!!

948,562 words read (2% less than last month)

25 fics read (4% less than last month)

25 authors (0% more than last month)

🍫 for you for making it this far

[grassoftunnel]

Character Design rant

It pisses me off seeing how much people judge whether an artist is good or not based on how much like a department store model a character looks. Like they do not even want a distinctive look they just want them to exist within extremely limited modes of conventional attractiveness like an instagram filter. Who cares that character designs are meant to convey a visual and narrative purpose or give the character a distinctive look, am I right…..

Why should daken have his actual design (mohawk short-to-average height heavy brow) that made him stand out when he could just look like the generic general shang from mulan way that some people want every single hot asian guy to look like (which ijbol please look inside your hearts and examine why thats how you always want them to look, It’s giving 2014 tumblr only knowing 1 asian actor and fancasting him for everything)

its true that there is a serious issue of artists not knowing how to draw asian features but the way some people quantify looking ‘actually biracial’ is so fucking weird!!!!! It circles back to like…feeling racist af (I say this as an asian), like i get it i want ethnic features to be like depicted properly and they havent always been with him, but like he has an actual visually interesting design with actual thought put into it!! Which is done best imo by Camuncoli (I’ll die on this hill I hate how fucking rude and bad faith people are about his art based on panels that are deliberately exaggerated rictus grins, like his style is not for everyone but he understands his face and clearly depicts him as chiseled handsome and as asian vs other artists who clearly dont intend for him to be read as handsome) and checchetto. Like this character specifically is not the hill to die on To Me. He was conceptualised as a metro guy who contrasts his father in appearance and personality. Please don’t tell me that the reason some people prefer the roided out ultra masc (and ooc but thats not relevant to my rant) Krakoa version of him purely bc they want to do the corny try-hard 00s after school special subvert stereotype of asian men as small and effeminate (which mind-you, daken is not and has never been short or small hes just a low end of average height and average muscular build) by going in the opposite direction thing… (in my most charitable reading of this decision, the x factor artist chose to make him look like that to contrast him against prodigy, or to match the roided out hypermasc style hes drawn with by some artists in his early comic appearances and the later parts of Daken:Dark Wolverine, in that case I’ll accept it, but i really don’t know).

Cause as late as All New Wolverine he still had a design that seemed congruous with the initial vision of his character look. Like different artists will have different takes, but it is weird to see the 180 from Krakoa onwards! like they’re just giving up on actually putting the same effort into making a distinctive design for him that preserves his facial design elements while more effectively communicating that he is mixed asian, and instead just putting all their effort into making him Look Asian (whatever the hell that means!). It’s to the point that people discovering him from newer comics have kneejerk reactions to how he looks in early comics or in Hellverine where they’ve returned to his original look! Deeply Deeply Weird!!!!!

[somethingsomethingcomic]

deadnamed at my father's funeral

[ghostfacd]

THIRD TIME’S THE CHARM! | JACK HUGHES

au masterlist

author’s note: this was in my drafts for the longest time but it’s finally out the dungeon! give a warm welcome to the newest member of the hughes, kayleigh ‘ky’ hughes 🫶 i might have to change my tag for ollie & daisy’s world to rory n jack instead!

ylerory third times a charm! 🎀 (p.s, third pic is when i told jack we were having another one!)

tagged jackhughes

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jackhughes me and ollie are outnumbered!

elblue0 did jim and i just let out a scream? yes we did!!!!! call us as soon as you can

lhughes_06 i get godfather this time right?

ylerory you know it moosey!

trevorzegras the Hughes girlies are takin over

jackhughes they really are

trevorzegras wait so that means you two..

ylerory ZEGRAS STOP IT

quinnhughes already love her

user1 JACK’S FACE 😭😭

user2 yn and jack really continuing the hughes line

ylerory we told dais and ollie that they’re having a baby sister! daisy obviously doesn’t know what’s going on but ollie was the most excited boy ever, i already can tell he’s gonna be such a good brother to kayleigh 🫶 as for jack, he’s currently soaking up all the time he can with ollie and daisy (as you can see him in daisy’s crib! get outtt!) before the baby comes and we become too busy!

tagged jackhughes

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quinnhughes tell that musty man to leave dais’s crib

jackhughes that ‘muStY MaN’ is daisy’s father!

trevorzegras kayleigh? we get a baby name reveal?

ylerory 🥸🥸

user1 their kids are so cute, i can already tell the third one is gonna get all the beauty genes

user2 oh to be yn lerory hughes and have 3 kids with the most finest man ever.

user3 daisy is so cute!! cant wait to see her be a big sister

elblue0 oh ollie has grown so much 🥹 his blue eyes

livvyhughes soaking up all the time i have left with my sissy in law before the new baby comes! i was her first child actually so :’)

tagged ylerory

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ylerory aw olivia, i love you so much. yes you and gabe were my first children, and you guys STILL ARE!!

gabeperreault 🫡🫡 you know it!

jackhughes ehhh whatever

ylerory one day you will have children livvy and our kids can become best friends!

lhughes_06 woah woah woah not anytime soon

user1 luke’s reply 😭😭

user2 jack’s sister and yn’s relationship is so cute, i love them

user3 livvy and rory is the ultimate duo, forget jack

user4 so real

elblue0 my daughters 💓

jackhughes dear yn “rory” lerory hughes, i’ve said this before and i’ll say it a million times again if I have to: thank you for bringing me happiness and for giving me the most precious gifts; ollie, daisy, and now our beloved kayleigh. i couldn’t ask for a better wife and best friend. i will love you in this life and in all the other lives we’ll have (yes, the last photo is of me telling my family members that we’re having another addition to the fam! 🏅)

tagged ylerory

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ylerory way to make a pregnant woman cry Hughes!

lhughes_06 nothing but love for u and rory

quinnhughes the sister and best friend we never knew we needed

ylerory quinnier 🥲🥲🥲

livvyhughes okay sap this was cute but i want more rory content!

user1 REALL miss olivia always speaking facts

ylerory haha just message me and ill send all my recent photos!!

[enjolraspermettendo]

Les Miserables Fanfic recs✨️

I tried to make a selection, my absolute favourites have a heart next to them ❤️, but my les mis fics bookmarks have 17 pages, so you know, there are still other amazing fics that i didn't include (part 2 maybe?). I also realised while making this list that most of these fics are actually very well known, but still, they're great 🤷‍♀️ I'm an angst enthusiast, be warned.

( I'm trying to also tag the tumblr accounts of the authors: if you are one of the authors and I missed your url and want me to add you or if you want me to remove you dont hesitate to contact me! )

❤️ World Aint Ready by idiopathicsmile @idiopathicsmile

Enjolras presses his lips together. He already looks pained, and Grantaire hasn't even opened his mouth yet. That's got to be a record, even for them.

"I need a favor," he says at last.

"With what?" says Grantaire. "Ooh, are you forming a cult? Can I join? I'd be awesome at cults, I just know it." He ticks off his qualifications on his fingers. "I love chanting, I look great in robes—"

(High school AU. Grantaire the disaffected stoner is pulled into a cause bigger than himself. Or: in which there are pretend boyfriends for great justice.)

Part 1 of World Aint Ready-verse

To Fold the Sheet by Lyres

“Can you say one good thing about the season?”

Holding out his soap-sud covered hands until Grantaire tosses a towel on top of them, Enjolras hums in thought. “Not really,” he says, once he's dried off. “Just don't have a lot of happy memories of summer, I suppose.”

(In which Grantaire attempts to make Happy Summer Memories, and Enjolras is endlessly patient.)

History of Melancholia by Squash (JeSuisGourde) @meta-squash

Grantaire deals with his depression by documenting it through photography as he and Enjolras try to wade through life with mental illness. It doesn't make it any easier for him or Enjolras, though. It's the blind leading the blind as they try to navigate the waters of depression.

A series of moments in no particular order, showing the paths that Grantaire's depression and addiction has taken him on and the ways he has tried to survive.

Submission (Going Down, Down) by ddeadkennedys

anyway, enjolras hated grantaire at first. enjolras isn't an asshole, he's not a gatekeeper or some sort of shitty elitist, but grantaire was uninspired, hopeless despite all that potential. a waste. but then that whole thing went down, and shit changed, and if grantaire thought he couldn't get enough of enjolras' attention before, now that enj is only mean to him for fun he's a fucking junkie for it.

Part 1 of the revolution is my boyfriend

Keep It Kind, Keep It Good, Keep It Right by lady_ragnell @theladyragnell

“You aren’t going to ask me if I’m okay?”

“You aren’t. Believe me, I know the signs.” Grantaire sighs, and his breath mists in the air like cigarette smoke. “They love you in there.”

“And out here?”

“You know that’s not a fair question.”

Forget Me Not by Opium_du_Peuple @just-french-me-up

Enjolras loses four years worth of memories after a nasty car accident. Though he still remembers who Combeferre and Courfeyrac are, he also finds himself with a herd of friends he doesn't remember meeting. Friends who are exactly what his blank mind needs to recollect his missing memories.

or : the amnesia fic no one asked for.

i'm not the moon (i'm not even a star) by serinesaccade @serinesaccade

“The amnesiac has questions,” says Grantaire. Boyfriend grips the wheel. “Don’t worry, we’ll start with the 200 dollar Jeopardy trivia.” A semi roars past them. “What’s your name?” The perfect sinew and bones of his fingers relax. “Oh,” he murmurs. Just like that, defenses lowered. “Enjolras.” “Cool,” Grantaire says. “I’m Grantaire.” Something happens to Enjolras’ face which, if you zoomed in, might be considered a smile. “I know.” “How long have we been dating, Enjolras?” The almost-smile is gone. The gameshow metaphor has become too apt; someone’s lost it all. “That’s complicated.” Well. Grantaire should’ve known some part of this fairytale was too good to be true. He’s best friends with a streetsmart renegade and someone who wrote him a welcome-back-to-consciousness poem in godawful blue icing on an orange frosted cookie cake. There are nearly ten people who were waiting for him to wake up in a hospital room. Of course his inexplicable relationship with his supernova hot, socially conscientious boyfriend is ‘complicated.’

thirteen days and fourteen hours and a dozen minutes by Potoo

"Enjolras,” Grantaire gasps as delicate fingers brush over his chest, an airy quality to them, “what do you want?” Because Grantaire would serve him the whole world on a silver platter, and it would never be enough.

“You,” Enjolras states, his voice clear and severe, “I want you.”

Enjolras discovers one by one what his friends think about Grantaire. He is rather surprised by their words.

Also: body worship porn.

Metropolitan Art by ryssabeth @avagueambitioninyourerection

Paris is his home.

❤️ Wrap your fingers round my thumb by Ibbyliv

When Éponine leaves in the morning, he’s already feeling much better. No really, he is. He makes a cup of coffee and even showers. The sun is shining brightly –even though it’s mostly late in the afternoon than morning but he has no one to apologize to, no reason to excuse himself for being a lazy ass and not finishing that painting for ages- and he’s humming a catchy tune that has been stuck in his head while he wipes his hair dry with a towel. He opens the door because he feels good enough to take the trash out, and everything’s alright, even the odor coming from the plastic bag, until he hears it.

It’s a cry, a wail, desperate and heartbreaking as if something tiny is trying to cause its lungs to explode and is on its way to success. Grantaire looks around, not willing to accept what he feels coming, before lowering his eyes on the floor. In this moment, Grantaire swears, he's so fucking wasted. * Enjolras leaves to work abroad for a year. When he returns, he finds out that there has been a new addition to their group.

A Series of Progressions by AnnaBolena @annabrolena

Modern AU in Paris in which most of Les Amis are students and all of them are sort of slow on the getting together aspect of relationships, with sociopolitical commentary and medical jabber peppered in between.

how sweet and lovely dost thou make the shame by Tegami @furtherfish

He could have shrugged and that would have been it. Say that he just found it precious. But Grantaire was Grantaire and he never could keep himself from oversharing and he was already dizzy with the way this night was going, so he told the truth. “The first thought I had when I read that poem was ‘If someone would ever call me “sweet boy” and mean it, I would probably pass out.’” OR: E & R are being ""casual"". Grantaire attempts to break some of their habits. Enjolras reads some angsty notes R left in his copy of Shakespeare's sonnets. Then they fuck

❤️ Hotel California by sunflowerbright

'You can check out, but you can never leave' - Reincarnation!AU

❤️ Paris Burning by thecitysmith @thecitysmith

In a world where cities are personified, the City of Paris has been missing for centuries, driven away by the horrors of war and the worst humanity has offered him. Enjolras dreams of meeting Paris, and leading him to a better tomorrow. What he doesn't know is that Paris is now a cynical drunk who calls himself Grantaire.

❤️ Thirty-Two Times by Ark @et-in-arkadia

Marius, looking chastised but sad, says, “Is there nothing then for romance, Enjolras? It seems a strange emotion to be struck with, distracting as a fever, if it means nothing.” It is Grantaire who answers first. “Nothing means anything, Marius,” says the cynic. “Yet who would ever die for his country if he did not love some person who lived within it?”

❤️ Once We're Kings by raeldaza

Their kingdoms have been at odds for centuries, so what will be a greater 'fuck you' than to send hapless knight Grantaire as their representative for Prince Enjolras's queen choosing ceremony before he is crowned King? Grantaire disagrees, but he doesn't seem to get much of a say in the matter. No one is really expecting anything to come of it, but trust Enjolras to defy expectations.

❤️ Your Heart on Your Skin by zade @racetrackthehiggins

Grantaire’s first flower appears when he is two years old. It’s late, for a First Bloom, considering some children are born with their First already etched above their hearts, but Grantaire’s parents are warm and loving and wait to see what sort of child they have born unto the world. His First Bloom, when it comes, is vibrant patch of yellow carnations. He is too young to know what it means, and his parents don’t tell him, just—withdraw, and a much smaller patch of yellow carnations appears on his mother’s ankle. -- Soulmate AU where things in your life appear as flowers on your skin, and people with hard lives have a lot of flowers to show for it

Tetris by chapstickaddict

Cosette is Enjolras' half-sister. His father slept with Fantine and then buggered off to be with his wife. Then Enjolras found out. One day he sees her- and he knows its her- and doesn't know what to do. Enjolras is Cosette's half-brother. Her mother slept with a married man and died of a broken heart and weary soul. Then Cosette found out. One day, she finds him-and she knows its him- and doesn't know what to do. Then Marius happened...

Silence Is the Speech of Love by lady_ragnell @theladyragnell

Grantaire's life has a pattern: he pays his respects to Aphrodite, he goes to work, he loves Enjolras and provokes him because he can't bring himself to do otherwise. That seems unlikely to change, at least until Enjolras speaks out against the gods and ends up cursed. Grantaire does his best to help him, but it turns out it's just as hard to love Enjolras up close as it is from afar.

Part 1 of The Speech of Love

❤️ I Believe In Nothing but the Truth and Who We Are by Whreflections

"Under the wine, Grantaire smelled like smoke and summer nights. His dark hair curled in a chaotic mess around his face, his neck below pale and soft. The first time they met, the first time he drew the scent into his lungs, he ached with the need to mark that stretch of skin, to card his fingers through Grantaire’s hair so very gently before tilting his head back so Enjolras might mark his bared throat and make his claim. He resisted then, telling himself that to act on instinct alone was the arena of an animal; he was a man of intellect, and he could choose." As an alpha, Enjolras has known Grantaire to be his mate since he first came to the Musain, a truth he does his best to bury. With his devotion already promised to France, he tells himself he cannot risk dividing his loyalties, cannot risk a bond that would pull so heavy on his heart. This is what he's told himself a thousand times, but when Grantaire needs him, his careful resolutions may not be able to hold against the strain.

His Love Letter by ShitpostingfromtheBarricade @shitpostingfromthebarricade

Your Wednesday regular appears right on time and orders the same thing as he does every week, but something's different today.

❤️ Here's looking at you by illuminate

“So domestic trouble rather than treason?” Floreal said. “I’m not saying one precludes the other.” Enjolras said, which came out more pained than he had intended. “Are you suggesting Grantaire sold national secrets to a crime lord because you were a bad boyfriend?” Floreal asked. Her tone was bemused, but there was a glint in her eye that turned the comment into mockery. “No.” Enjolras snapped, stung, and then didn’t say more. Spy AU. Grantaire removes his tracker and disappears the same night Lamarque is killed in his office. Enjolras is left behind, trying to figure out what happened and why Grantaire didn't tell him anything.

❤️ Meanwhile, A Glacier by standalone

“I’ll go.” He says it without brashness or deference. Just a statement. “Where?” “You want to climb the Forty,” he says, and Enjolras can’t deny it. “I’ll go with you.”

❤️ It's Not the Same Anymore by ShameDumpster @shamedumpster

Grantaire is a bookstore clerk in his late twenties, and to everyone’s eternal disbelief, a father. It’s been years since he’s seen anyone from his former group of friends, after a falling out cleaved him from the ABC, but everything changes when Enjolras walks into his bookstore. Can they rekindle their friendship, or something more, while they both come to terms with how their lives have changed over the past decade?

Part 1 of INtSA-verse

❤️ Combeferre's Tattoos by standalone

Enjolras clunked down three lowball glasses of whiskey and a bottle of soda water. “We have already established, ‘Ferre, his freedom to leave us. Can you please stop bringing it up and instead give him some incentive to stay?” Combeferre cocked his head to the side, as if amused at Enjolras’s crankiness. “Such as?” “He seemed to like you shirtless.” ‘Ferre nodded. “Then perhaps someone should take my shirt off.” or When the universe gives you Enjolras and Combeferre, who the hell are you to ask questions?

Part 1 of Tattoos AU

❤️ In Defiance of all Geometry by idiopathicsmile @idiopathicsmile

Amis House might not be the biggest student co-op, or the fanciest, but it's got something all its own. Specifically, smoke damage on the kitchen ceiling from that time Courfeyrac lit a political pamphlet on fire. In which there are secrets, pining, pancakes, and revelations, and sometimes the shortest distance between three points is not a triangle but a circle.

Part 1 of IDOAG-verse

❤️ We still got time (Raise your hopeful voice) by RavenXavier

“Excuse-you!” came Grantaire’s offended voice from the other side of the room. “I would make an excellent wife, Monsieur Lesgle, should I choose to! I have all the qualities of one!" (In which Enjolras slowly falls in love, and Grantaire takes the time to explore what feels right.)

Musagetes by defractum @defractum

"You've had sex," says Grantaire, just to clarify. He gives Enjolras an obvious look up and down, as if he's trying to imagine it right now: Enjolras having sex, Enjolras in the act of having sex. The curve of his mouth gives away his smirk; it's Grantaire though, so his smirk is two-thirds mocking and one-third self-deprecating. In which Enjolras has sex, has casual sex, and doesn't talk about it; in which Grantaire speaks better through art.

❤️ Through the Narrow Place by revolutionbarbie

“What brought you to Paris?” Montparnasse asked. “A train, ostensibly. And a bus.” Grantaire leaves Poland for Paris, content to remain alone forever if it means that he'll be safe. He goes to work and he comes home and he doesn't think about how few people there would be to miss him should he disappear. When he meets the Friends who gather and plot at the Cafe Musain, he realises how much he has been missing and though their leader is reckless and arrogant, Grantaire can't help but be drawn to him.

❤️ A Thousand Miles by kjack89 @kjack89

Some couples had a morning breakfast routine. For Enjolras and Grantaire, it was coffee. Come rain, shine, or hectic schedules, they still made time every morning to have a cup of coffee together. Sometimes that time saw Grantaire perching on the counter in the bathroom while Enjolras gulped his cup in the shower; other times, it was the two of them in bed long past when they were supposed to get up, wrapped in blankets and each other. Some days those precious few minutes were the only time they saw each other, and they treasured it. Even when Enjolras was out of town on business, they called or Facetimed each other to share their morning cup of coffee. It was the one consistency in their lives that Grantaire could count on.

❤️ Hēbē by illuminate

“You cannot feed on a citizen without their consent, because that would be an attack on their person - and their Rights, I am sure. But you cannot risk revealing your nature and so you cannot ask for permission. Luckily, you have me, who am already aware and quite willing.” The chair screeches loudly as Enjolras pushes himself away from the table. ”Come now, Apollo, let me be your cupbearer.” Grantaire implores; his tone somewhere between teasing and honest. “No, we are not doing that.” Enjolras growls. (In short: Enjolras has trouble feeding himself, because he is too busy planning the revolution. Grantaire finds out and is more than willing to help.)

Part 1 of cupbearer

Enjolras looks down at where Grantaire’s hand holds the pack against him and doesn’t bother to take hold. “If you were Combeferre,” he says, “this would be the part where you tell me these things will kill me.” “If I were Combeferre, I’d be inside and you’d be bothering someone else,” Grantaire snaps. He snatches the pack of cigarettes back and extracts one, leaving just two inside. It is with sharp, savage movements that he jabs it into his mouth, lights it with the silver Zippo, and then offers it to Enjolras.

love is in the air, i just gotta figure out a window to break out by tamquams

[aventurineswife]

Could you do Reader x Aventurine where there are college rivals, reader always a top student not until Aventurine arrived and took reader 1st place and they have become the 2nd place, they always bickering who's the best but they never cross any line

One day reader got sick, Aventurine was worried because he hadn't seen them for 2 days so he decided to pay them a visit and found out reader had a high fever so he rushed out to buy a medicine for reader until now they have become close but still have those rivalry banter, rather more playful now

Kinda like rival to lover but they're like mutual pining until both of them say something

Closer by Competition

Summary: In college, you and Aventurine are fierce rivals, constantly competing for the top spot in your program. Aventurine’s unexpected arrival pushes you down to second place, sparking a lively competition filled with witty banter and mutual respect. But when you fall sick, Aventurine’s concern leads him to visit and care for you, marking a shift in your relationship. Slowly, your rivalry evolves into something warmer, as you both realize that perhaps you’re better together than in constant competition.

Tags: College Rivals to Lovers, Mutual Pining, Slow Burn, Rivalry with Affection, Fluff, Sickfic, Academic Competition, Banter, Playful Rivalry, Light Angst with a Happy Ending

Warnings: Mild language (playful insults and teasing), Brief mention of illness and fever

The rivalry between you and Aventurine began the moment he transferred into your program. You'd always been the top student, basking in the quiet satisfaction of watching your scores inch higher than anyone else's. But then he arrived—Aventurine, the guy with sandy-blond hair, sharp magenta and cyan eyes, and that ever-present confident smile that made your blood simmer. From the first test he aced, taking your spot at the top, to the last debate he won by the narrowest of margins, he had become your academic nemesis.

You were both locked in this unspoken battle, constantly throwing playful, biting remarks at each other in the lecture hall, or subtly trying to outdo each other with project presentations that dazzled the professors. But there was a line, one neither of you ever crossed—despite the bickering, there was an unspoken respect between you. And maybe… just maybe… a spark.

Then came a week where you weren't around to throw the usual quips his way. Aventurine noticed your absence. Two days passed without your witty retorts or side-eyed glares across the classroom, and he found himself… worried. The idea that something might actually be wrong bothered him in a way he didn’t expect.

Without a second thought, he managed to get your address from a mutual friend and decided to visit. When he knocked, your groggy, barely coherent voice from inside told him all he needed to know. He pushed the door open to find you sprawled on your bed, looking paler than he’d ever seen you.

"[Name]," he said, worry clear in his usually cool tone. "Why didn’t you tell anyone you were sick?"

Your response was a half-hearted, sleepy glare, which normally might have been funny if you didn't look like you were about to pass out. Aventurine didn’t waste any time. He left your apartment and returned shortly after with fever medication, a water bottle, and a bag of snacks, a surprising softness in his gaze as he handed you the medicine.

“You know,” he said, his usual smirk making an appearance. “For someone who supposedly likes being number one, you don’t seem very committed to staying alive.”

You rolled your eyes weakly, the smallest smile tugging at your lips. “Coming from the guy who’s obsessed with competition. Figures you'd be here just to make sure I get back to competing with you.”

He chuckled, brushing a stray hair off your forehead. “I wouldn’t want my only worthy rival giving up that easily.”

From that day, something changed between you two. Your exchanges softened, though the rivalry remained. You’d still argue over who got the higher test score, whose presentation dazzled more, but now your banter was laced with a new warmth. He’d check in on you more often, and you found yourself doing the same, wondering if he’d eaten lunch, if he’d stayed up too late cramming. It wasn’t long before people around campus began to notice how your rivalry was slowly morphing into something else.

One day, after yet another mock argument about a recent exam score, Aventurine grinned and leaned closer, his eyes dancing. “You know, I think we might make a better team than rivals.”

You felt a warmth rise in your cheeks, rolling your eyes to hide it. “Maybe. But don’t think that’s going to make me go easy on you.”

He laughed, his smile softer this time. “Good. I’d hate for it to be too easy.” And with that, your rivalry became something deeper, both of you leaning into the subtle affection that had grown between you.

[miiilowo]

May I ask for some info on characters in your gay boy summer drawing (Idk names sorry)

GRINS EVILLY. yes u may ( vvv pictures for people who havent seen em)

human dudes named finn, big monsters named arthur. arthurs not his actual name, but ill get to that in a minute. theyre ocs ive had for quite some time now but i've been renovating because i wanna make an actual digital horror series sometime in the coming years (everything would be posted to an in-universe youtube channel 'owned' by finn)

Finn is a shoddy paranormal investigator who lives alone in an RV out by the woods. While he's not too far from town, he's out there enough to get in trouble and not have anyone find out for ... A longer period of time than what would be preferable, let's just say that. Loves ghoul hunting. loves ghouls. ghosts and demons and whatnot. Uploads everything to a youtube channel.

One day, he decides to check out an abandoned house thats rumored to have demonic rituals and summonings happening within it, cause why wouldn't he? He gets there. snaps a photo down the hall. sees a numerous amount of red eyes staring back at him, and immediately books it back home! naturally he immediately gets followed home by the Thing he found. this is not preferable.

Arthur, when summoned, only has one way he can get back home. He needs a willing blood sacrifice in order to draw the portal and return- Emphasis on the word "willing". Typically, he would manipulate the summoner into being that sacrifice, by getting them emotionally attached in some way; making them reliant on him. Whoever summoned him last was aware of this, however, and booked it before he could do anything. With Finn being his first human contact in years, he's desperate, and tracks him down-So he can lure him in and use him.

issue one: there's been a string of murders in the woods nearby where he lives issue two: he's kinda thick skulled. since the murders happened recently, there might be some weird paranormal activity happening, right? issue three: the killer was visiting the scene of the crime when finn showed up, as killers tend to do. now he has a murderer coming for his ass

now, you can't really have a "willing blood sacrifice" if someone kills them before you do, right?

the series would follow the two as arthur tries his absolute best to keep finn from getting killed, and over time, arthur realizes he isn't being kind and loving to finn just because he needs to use him to get back home anymore.

anyways. handful misc information:

finn nicknamed arthur out of fear when he saw it staring at him through his window in the dark at like 2 am and it stuck

arthur cannot form words because of the way his mouth is, so he primarily communicates through technology, sort of forcing finn to be constantly recording. think of that one scare in the mandela catalogue where the date displaying on the recording changes to the words 'bad idea, mark' or whatever it says

eventually i want finn to strap a modified spirit box to arthurs neck so he can communicate like that. ideally this will resemble withered chicas voicelines in ultimate custom night

everything about them you can find in the #redux tag on my blog and also on @reduxblog cause i RB everything there :3

[themadlu]

What Is It In You I Cannot See?

Astarion fails to sneak on Zelie, but somehow he still ends up with a full belly. Nothing asked of him. He is scared of her and angry at her at the same time. He is also happy. He is in uncharted territory. He doesn't understand if she'll be his salvation or his doom.

He also hates dogs.

TW: references to past SA (nothing graphic), mentions of animal cruelty (if him wanting to eat Scratch counts).

This is a oneshot from a longer fic idea. Zelie is my named Tav OC, but here there is no physical description, aside from eye colour.

Tagging @spacebarbarianweird because she's so talented and kind!

“Remind me again, darling, what are we doing in these godsforsaken woods?” 

Astarion had woken up…happy—with a full stomach (He had forgotten what that felt like) and a clear head (He can hear the stern cadence of her sweet, precious blood being pumped through her heart). 

His restless reverie made bearable by the life essence he took last night. 

No, not took. He was too pathetically weak even for the basic functions of a vampire. It was a gift.

This is a gift—I won’t forget it.

He said as much, head tilted towards her, looking, but not seeing; he couldn’t bear to actually stare at the person he was indebted to now. 

She doesn’t call it debt. There are enough ill-guided, wretched ideas floating in that head of hers, all about justice and fairness and respect, that she hasn’t asked anything in return for her donation.

Yet. 

She will. If he thinks too long about it, it terrifies him.

No one hands their life blood over to anyone (to a monster) without a sizeable payback in mind. Either that, or he’ll have to start believing all her ideals (Her actions) are not an elaborate set of masks to trick him into trust (She’d be more idiotic than he thought, in that case).

Still, her confounding attitude worked in his favour. Not only he wasn’t left to starve the night before (a novelty in and of itself), but he’ll get future access to his dinner for the foreseeable future. 

She said so (“You can feed on me again, IF you swear you won’t hurt others and stick to animals when I’m not around”). Her face carved in stone, unmovable as she always is when establishing her rules. Her boundaries.

(No one ever cared for his boundaries. An object of pleasure doesn't need any.)

But she looked at him like he would actually understand, as if the concept couldn’t be so foreign to him. Something in the world shifted.

Truth be told, you were my first. 

Something changes in her eyes too and her expression softens, but doesn’t relent. 

“Let’s keep me as the only for now. If you wish to tell the others and any of them are willing to donate their blood too, then you can expand your culinary options.”

What?

He knows she didn’t spill his secret to their companions (Gods forbid, someone as noble as their leader did that), but he assumed she would push him to reveal himself. Why wouldn’t she? She made such a fuss about how wrong lying is, and honesty this and fuck him that, and now she is willfully withholding information from the rest of the group. 

Why?

You nearly got us killed at the Grove. Couldn’t keep your little mouth shut with that useless healer about the tadpoles. Foolish idiot, you’ll be our doom. 

Was it a test? See what the hungry spawn does and punish him if he makes a mistake? 

Astarion has an inkling of what she would like him to do, because it tends to be the total opposite of what he would do. He would continue their little arrangement in private, for as long as possible. He may have been a slave for centuries, but he’s not so daft. Why would a vampire willingly oust himself to a group that includes a literal monster hunter in their midst. 

It would be suicidal and he has wished for death more times he can recount—often masked as sensual whimpers and pleas in brothels and alleys—but he doesn’t wish it now. 

He won’t let a presumptuous, sheltered human kill him with her righteousness when decades of torture didn’t. 

Not now he’s finally out of his grasp. 

Not now he can exist in the sun. 

Not now that he’s stuck in the mud chatting to a mutt. 

Wait, what?

The scene in front of him is dreamlike: their stoic leader is knee deep in the dirt, shiny eyes coaxing a clearly aggressive dog closer, Karlach talking to it as if it were worthy of conversation.

Zélie stares at the mutt as if in a trance. Astarion asks her why they were in the woods in the first place to see if the dog isn’t actually a hypnotising hag.

The mutt snarls at him and he snarls back. Filthy beast.

“Hush, Astarion!” Zélie whispers, “he’s scared. You’ll only scare him more”

He takes notice of the corpse near the dog. Clearly dead. Filthy and stupid beast. 

“Sweet thing you are, worrying about it,” he coos.

Hells below, you idiot. 

“But may I remind you we are trying to get to a den of vicious goblins to find the blasted druid who can fix our wiggly issue?” 

He points at his temple and she gives him the look. They’ve been travelling together for no more than a tenday and he already earned a signature look from her. 

All piercing, hardened eyes and the disapproving tilt of the head a mother would give to her child before a good dressing down. 

He wonders what his punishment will be, and his scars burn, his hands shake. 

He quickly fists them behind his back to hide the tremors (A broken toy is worthless), strikes a casual figure, and something in her gaze mellows. Before it could have stricken down a dragon from the skies, now it would only manage a bear. 

It certainly won’t manage a vampire. 

He scowls at her, but her attention is already back on the mutt now within arm’s reach. 

“You know, Astarion,” she murmurs, petting its fur with a care that had to be an act (Tenderness has no place in any realm), “dogs are beautiful creatures. They feel as much as us.” 

Another stroke behind its ears, soft and barely there. Astarion’s own ears twitch.  

“They accept our love, our mistakes, our pain, and still stay by our side. Sometimes they even see past our cruelty, so strong is their loyalty. I think you won’t find a more worthy companion.”

Another caress on its muzzle. The hint at complete loyalty to another would normally tear through him ('Remember thou art mine, useless boy'), but Astarion is transfixed by her hands on white fur (Would they touch his own white hair like that?) and his fangs are dangerously close to peeking through his lips. 

(Two centuries of utter shit, but the mutt runs across her bare moments after his owner’s died.)

If I was alone, I’d bleed you dry. Animals only, so she said.

Fucking dog befriended, Astarion is ripped from his thoughts as Zélie stops her ministrations and stands up. She bows her head at—

“Scratch. Meet Astarion. Astarion, meet Scratch.”

The dog eyes him for a moment, then barks. Astarion almost hisses back. It’s his dear leader standing in front of him that stops him. 

“I know he may look slightly ruffled, Scratch, but I like to think that you can trust him.” 

Excuse me?!

She cannot speak with animals, so why the hells is she making polite conversation with it?!

“And you,” eyes on his, he hates how he has to prove that he can hold her look without squirming. She has the gaze of someone used to having a certain level of authority, and it disgusts him. His hands tremble more, nails now digging in his palms.

('You're nothing but a scared, little boy'). 

The others have moved further along the path, but she whispers it nonetheless, “When I say you should feed on animals, this is clearly not what I mean. Dogs are out of your food chain. Please, Astarion”

He doesn’t remember when it was the last time anyone ever said please to him, when someone kept a secret for him, and it’s enough to shock him into compliance. 

“Thank you,” she says, a little smile on her thin lips (it looks foreign on her stone-like face).

She heads along the path without realising what she’s done. As if people handed thank yous around like nothing. He’s seen her thanking others, occasionally: Gale for his food, Shadowheart for the healing, even Lae’zel for not disembowelling a tiefling  (How disappointing). But to him? 

(He hasn’t done anything, besides taking her blood and her temporary alliance)

He kills and maims what enemies they encounter because he revels in the violence. In the control over another’s life—in not him being the pitiful wretch for once. If she thinks he’s doing it out of some sense of morality, then she’s even more idiotic than he thought. 

She could simply be a pathetic moron with a noble soul. One who follows her way even when she doesn’t want to. Even when they do her more harm than good (Shouting a speech on interracial cooperation from a high rock to stop a vicious group of goblins and humans from killing each other was a terrible idea. Surprisingly, she only got scraps from all the arrows flying at her). 

No. She isn’t. No one is like that.

Phantom touches on his body remind him of this shit world every second of every day and they will do so for as long as he lives. They all have their motives. She just hides hers beside a very put-together mask. An impressive one, if he can say so. 

He falls into step with her as usual (Because he needs to make sure she doesn’t drag them to an unwilling death, because he needs to keep himself in her good graces now she knows his secret) and she acknowledges him with a nod. 

The smile is still there—odd. She looks a moment away from giggling, a sound that he didn't think her mouth could form. 

Now he needs to know. 

“Copper for your thoughts, darling?” he drawls. 

What’s going on in that confusing head of yours?

“I just thought—when Scratch said he’d join us at camp. I pictured Withers and him,” a corner of her mouth lifts, “playing catch. ‘Cometh here, oh chosen canine, and followeth thy ball along its rightful path.’”

  

Her eyes tear up from contained laughter (Have they always been so blue? He just realises one is more of a grey colour), then she coughs a little and her entire face resettles on its usual assessing expression. 

"You're a bad influence, Astarion. I don't usually tease my elders, especially not millennia-old ones."

Astarion blinks (So she does have a sense of humour, even if it’s terrible).

He finds himself leaning into her, testing the boundaries. His sultry voice in her ear. "Darling, as your elder, you can tease me all you like. You have my permission." He is rewarded not with a whimper of excitement, but with the look again.

He finds himself suppressing a stray giggle and his hands stop shaking.  

[starshinadraven]

Hello! My name is Draven. He/him, 20 years old, from Brazil, and a writer (allegedly), currently working on a comic draft. I write queer whump mostly. My WIPs are below the page break. For the sake of everyone's safety and comfort, here are the trigger warnings that can be expected from this account. Please stay safe and mute the tags.

SA — #tw sa

Torture, gratuitous gore, body mods, bodily fluids galore — #tw body horror

Sexuality and gender (forcemasc/forcefem, do keep in mind that I'm FTM so if transfems feel fetishized please do let me know) — tw gender manipulation

Sex, violence during sex (consensual), general horniness — #tw sex

Military/war themes — #tw military

Necrophilia, dead body handling, grave desecration — #tw necro

WIPs

All my WIPs are nameless so far because I am Very Lazy and Fear Permanence. I'm currently focused on Black Tulip

Black Tulip, Zinc Garden (#WIP black tulip)

Very early stages, most of the plot points and settings are likely to change as I refine it. Set in Afghanistan, 1980s, during the Soviet invasion. The story follows primarily Nikolai (Kolya), our initial whumpee, an emotionally numb and socially stunted young soldier who's assigned to a particularly shitty unit (details are murky. Further research is needed). He meets Arseniy Lisitsin (Lisya, or Senya if you want to die ig), our initial whumper. Whumping ensues. The catch is: both characters take turns being the aggressive part, and they get increasingly creative in their whumping methods.

Trigger warnings: dubious consent, unfair power dynamics (initially), unhealthy relationships, actual war, period typical homophobic language

I will say, since whump is largely a form of entertainment and trauma release, I won't write any whump surrounding the civilians caught in the war, as I don't think that the tone of this work lends itself to depicting their trauma in a respectful way. So only soldiers will he harmed here.

Prussian Bluest (#WIP prussian bluest)

Set initially in the 1990s, but most of the whump takes place in flashbacks to WW1. The story follows Bowie (placeholder name) whose hyperfixation is on Manfred von Richthofen, the Red Baron. During a trip to Germany and Poland for the sake of his research, Bowie makes a pilgrimage through the more relevant places to Richthofen's life, including the three burial sites where he had been interred. Shenanigans ensue, Bowie causes the Baron to come back as a spirit. The story switches between them trying to figure out how to fix this mess while Manfred has to relive days of his life at random (ranging from his actual death, in which he feels the dread, the pain, the fatigue etc to his first day of school), and Manfred reminiscing over his memories. Oh also Bowie experiences psychosis so that's fun (I Will Make My OCs Have My Illnesses And You Cannot Stop Me). Cue some psychological and existentialist horror since I like that

Trigger warnings: again Actual War, psychosis inducing narratives, sexual trauma (barely showed but it's still there), queerphobia. And this last one is not a trigger but it'd piss me off so content warning for historical inaccuracies and piss poor portrayal of a historical figure

Very excited to yap with you all 🫦

[rainbow-flavoured-skittles]

Hey Mom, Dead Mom

Chapter 2: No more playing daddy’s game, I’ll go insane if things don’t change

I suffered for this chapter. it was fighting me every single step of the way but it’s finally finished. I can rest now. this isn’t as dark as the last chapter but Cole is running away in this, so it’s still not very happy. also I did indeed make a couple of random ocs because how else was I supposed to advance the plot? they’re not returning any time soon. as always, this is cross posted to ao3

~

Cole got on the plane to MOSPA at exactly eleven in the morning on a Sunday. He traveled alone — Dad was unable to come with him. Other people at the airport gave strange looks to the unaccompanied twelve-year-old, reminding him of the looks he got after Mom died. “Oh, why is that little boy all alone? So strange,” and then they’d go about their day, not giving him a second thought.

The flight attendant in front of him right now was doing just that. “No parents?” She asked, face mildly concerned. 

Cole shook his head. “I’m going to visit my grandma, but Dad couldn’t come,” he lied. Cole was good at lying. He’d done it a lot these past few years; you couldn’t take care of yourself the way Cole had without at least some lying.

The attendant gave him a small smile. Maddy, her name tag read. “Well, if you need anything, just call.”

“Okay, thanks, Ms.”

Maddy nodded and continued walking, greeting the other passengers. Cole fidgeted in his seat. The fabric covering it was itchy and the seatbelt was too tight. The man sitting next to him scrolled through his phone, music blaring loudly, and the old lady behind him was snoring. Not even off the ground yet and this flight was already torture. Cole resisted the urge to groan.

It was only a two hour flight, Cole could do this. But he hated planes so much — always had. Not being on the ground made him feel ill, and every bit of turbulence was terrifying. At least he had the window seat, though that didn’t do much to soothe his nerves. Being able to see how high up he was might make Cole feel worse. 

The crackling of a speaker interrupted his panicking. The sounds it made were loud and screechy. “Please fasten your seatbelts and put all devices on airplane mode. We will be taking off shortly,” the announcements said. 

Finally. Cole dug through his backpack and found his book. Fish in a Tree, the title read. He’d found it at the school book sale but had never gotten around to reading it. Now was his chance.

He’d barely gotten past the first chapter before they took off. Cole actually felt it when they did — it was like getting severed from a part of him. He felt sick, though throwing up wouldn’t achieve anything. It would probably make him feel worse. Cole settled for putting the book down and staring blankly at the seat in front of him instead. He wouldn’t be able to focus on the book, or anything at all, not when his stomach was lurching so badly.

Just two hours, he told himself. Then I can collapse on a bed and sleep. He repeated those words over and over like a mantra. 

~

As it turned out, Cole was not able to immediately sleep once he arrived at MOSPA, because he had to check in. Check in, as if the school was a hotel. Or maybe a prison, which would be much more accurate.

“It’s great that you’re here, Nicholas,” the secretary smiled cheerily as she typed on her computer. “I’m sure you’ll love this school. We’re all one big family.”

Yeah, right. Every time a school said that they didn’t mean anything by it. In fact, it meant there was probably all sorts of bullying that went ignored. “It’s just Cole, not Nicholas. Nobody calls me that,” Cole said. He hated his full name — who agreed to let his grandfather pick it out? ‘Nicholas’ was an old-person name from at least a hundred years ago.

“Okay, then, Cole. I’ve got your dorm number and schedule here,” the secretary printed out a sheet of paper. “Do you need a map of the school?”

Cole shook his head. He had spent some of the flight looking at the floor plans and they were seared into his brain at this point. “I’ll be fine, thank you,” he hurried out before she could offer to have someone show him around. He didn’t want that kind of forced social interaction.

The dormitories were not hard to find, not with the giant sign that pointed to where they were. Cole opened the door, cursing when it was stuck, and shoved everything to the side before closing it again. He didn’t see a roommate anywhere, but it was a weekend, so everyone was probably out. That was good, it meant he had a couple hours alone; he could use the time to unpack and explore the school.

Cole shoved all his clothes into the closet and shoes under the bed. MOSPA had a strict uniform policy, so he wouldn’t be able to wear any casual clothing, nor his combat boots. That was a shame — he really liked those boots. They had served well when he got into fights. And they added another sorely needed three inches to his height, another advantage.

Any books that he’d brought were put onto the desk. Items such as stationery and notebooks were placed in drawers. Miscellaneous trinkets were placed in a box under the bed and his toiletries in another box. Cole pushed the suitcases into the corner. There wasn’t anywhere else to put them, but he’d figure it out later. Right now he wanted to take a nap and not wake up for a month. Screw exploring the school, he could do that tomorrow.

Cole closed the curtains, pulled the covers over his head, and went to sleep. 

~

MOSPA, as Cole found out in the span of a month, was its own special brand of hell. The students there hated Cole for always messing up and acting strange, as if grieving for a loved one was something to make fun of. The teachers hated him for not talking or making eye contact and always zoning out. Everybody seemed to agree that he was the weird kid who should be avoided at all costs. His roommate, a kid named John, disliked him enough that he asked to be put in a different dorm.

“Thanks for messing up again, Brookstone,” one of his classmates sneered. Brant Green, yet another asshole who existed to make Cole miserable. “You ruined the whole performance.”

It hadn’t been Cole’s fault. Another student had purposefully tripped him, causing him to fall and knock over several people. “Yeah, I did. What’s your point?” He tried not to flip off Brant. That would just cause more trouble, trouble he couldn’t risk. The teachers hated him enough already.

“How’d you even get into this school? I thought you needed to have talent to get in,” Brant spat. 

“Do I look like I want to be here? I hate this place,” Cole stood up and glared at the taller boy. Brant was a good head taller than him, unfortunately.

Brant didn’t seem to know what to say to that. Perhaps he’d thought Cole was going here willingly, though how he’d come to that conclusion was a mystery. He gave Cole another sneer and walked away.

Cole rolled his eyes and went back to his lunch. For all its faults, at least this school had good food. The chicken salad was pretty tasty.

A large group chattered next to him. One of them gave him the side eye. “That’s the Brookstone kid,” she said, loud enough for Cole to hear. “His dad’s a Royal Blacksmith. Isn’t it weird how he didn’t get any of the family talent?”

Cole scowled and looked down at the table. He stabbed his lunch with more force than was needed.

“Nicholas Brookstone to the office, Nicholas Brookstone to the office,” a speaker sounded. All eyes turned to him. Cole looked down at the floor and wondered if he could just die right there in the cafeteria. It would save everyone a lot of trouble.

A kid coughed from the table in front of him. Awkward, Cole thought. What had he done this time? There wasn’t anything recent he’d done to warrant this.

It took five minutes for the school to realise he wasn’t moving any time soon. They all went back to their conversations, and Cole snuck out the side entrance. He had always been good at going unnoticed.

Cole walked through the halls briskly and knocked on the office door. He was let in by the guidance counsellor, a lady in her forties with platinum blonde hair. “Nicholas, we need to talk about your behaviour,” she said as they sat down.

“I haven’t been in any more fights,” Cole said. It was true.

“Your teachers say that you don’t pay any attention in class and that you’re not following instructions. It has nothing to do with your peers.”

“I’m trying my best, okay?” Cole snapped. Why couldn’t anyone just listen for once? He was trying, he’d been trying for ages.

“Then how come your grades are so low? This is one of the top arts schools in Ninjago, Nicholas. We expect better.” The counsellor had a mask of false concern on. Cole kind of wanted to punch it off. 

“It’s not Nicholas, it’s Cole. And I am trying,” Cole gritted out. 

“Your grades are barely scraping fifty percent.”

“So?”

The counsellor frowned. “If you don’t start doing better, you may get expelled.”

“Would that be such a bad thing?” Cole said under his breath. Then to the counsellor, “I’m sorry. I’ll do better.” She might be suspicious of the sudden change of pace, but Cole couldn’t care less. He just wanted to get out of the office.

The counsellor nodded and fixed her glasses. “That’s all for today, Nicholas. You can go to class now.”

She didn’t even bother to get his name right. “Thanks,” Cole marched out the door.

~

Cole stared down at his exam results and wondered if he was dreaming. Forty percent average, the paper said. A fail. He’d managed to do so badly that his average wasn’t even fifty.

Dad’s going to kill me, he thought. Dad expected at least nineties, and this definitely wasn’t it. He’d be grounded until his thirtieth birthday, if he lived that long.

The only subject that had above sixty was visual arts. The teacher for that class was nice — he understood Cole’s struggles and gave him all the time he needed. It wouldn’t make Dad overlook all the other failures, though.

The paper crinkled under his grip. Cole blinked the tears out of his eyes and shoved the paper into his folder. His classmates were conversing all around him, comparing grades and bragging about what they’d gotten. The teacher sat at her desk on the computer. Nobody would notice if he went to the washroom and never returned, hopefully.

Cole got up and walked to the front. “Ms. Jackson, may I please go to the washroom?”

The teacher nodded distractedly and waved her hand. “Yes.”

Cole grabbed his belongings and slipped out the door. He hadn’t taken a hall pass, not when the teacher would notice it missing. She wouldn’t know he was gone, but she would notice the hall pass. The teachers here were strange like that.

He opened the door to his dorm and collapsed on the ground. How was he going to explain his grades to his dad, much less the teachers? He could already hear the lecture. “Your mother would be so disappointed in you, Cole. What happened to all that potential?”

Then again, Dad didn’t pay attention to him. Cole doubted he even remembered that he existed; Dad was too busy partying. Maybe he could burn the report card and pretend it didn’t exist.

Or… Cole’s thoughts drifted to a snide comment Brant had made a few months ago. “Why don’t you just run away? Nobody would miss you — we’d be happy to see you gone.”

Cole had ignored him at the time. It was just another uncreative insult from the stereotypical bully. But it wasn’t exactly a bad idea. As strict as the school was, Cole knew all the weak spots in its system. It was easy to sneak out and never return. And he’d been thinking about leaving and never coming back for ages. This was just the final straw.

“All right, then. Guess Brant gets his wish,” Cole said. No one responded, of course — he was all alone. But talking to himself was a habit. Cole got up and went to the closet, finding the duffel bag he used to use for camping. He blew the dust off and packed anything that seemed useful. A flashlight, multiple sets of clothes, a reusable water bottle, that box of granola bars he’d bought a month ago, all the cash he had.

More food would need to be picked up from the school cafeteria, he decided. And he’d need to find a sleeping bag somehow. But everything else was ready. Cole could leave during the night — he refused to call it running away, he wasn’t running from anything — it was easier that way. This was the best option, he told himself.

Cole snuck out as soon as it was dark. He didn’t need to avoid any roommates, thankfully — anyone who’d been placed with him had moved out. It took a few minutes for him to write a letter to Jay. His best friend didn’t deserve to have him disappearing without warning, though they hadn’t been best friends since before Mom’s death. He put it in the outgoing mail on the way out, sealed with a blue sticker. Jay would know what that meant.

He took the back exit and walked down the road to the bus stop. The city’s streets were dimly lit, people rushing past him to get home. A couple looked at him curiously but didn’t stop him. A drunk man sat down next to him on the bench as they waited. Dogs barked in the distance and a truck drove past. It was peaceful, Cole thought. The most peaceful he’d been in a while.

The bus arrived just after midnight. Cole got on and paid for a ticket to the next town over. He could find a sleeping bag and extra clothes there, and the further away he got the better. He was finally leaving MOSPA and his dad behind, and he wouldn’t be stopped by something as simple as not having basic supplies.

~

Running away wasn’t all it was cracked up to be. All the books made it seem easy — there was no mention of sleeping in alleys, or trying not to get mugged, or having to do odd jobs to get money. Thank goodness for Ninjago’s lax law enforcement; nobody would have hired a thirteen-year-old if the police were good at their job. Especially a thirteen-year-old who may or may not be on the missing persons list. Cole still wasn’t sure if anyone had noticed him missing.

Cole shouldered his backpack as he walked away from Jamanakai Village. He’d managed to find work at a local restaurant a few weeks prior and had finally saved up enough money to get somewhere else. He wasn’t quite sure where his next destination would be, but for now he planned to go back to the mountain range near Ninjago City. He deserved a break, and climbing was therapeutic. The city having a lot of people to pickpocket was just a bonus.

Jamanakai was isolated, unfortunately. It would be an entire day before Cole could get to a more urban area and find a bus stop. He knew there wasn’t a lot of point in travelling so often, of course, but Cole couldn’t shake the feeling that if he didn’t keep moving, someone would find him and bring him back to MOSPA. He couldn’t let that happen. And it kept his mind off of Mom and Dad. Nope, not thinking of that today, Cole thought. It was a good day and he wasn’t going to ruin it.

“Probably enough money for a ticket to Ninjago City,” Cole muttered. “Then it’s just some hitchhiking.”

Not a difficult journey, really. Cole continued on.

~

The mountain was tall. And windy. And probably dangerous to climb without proper gear. Cole tried not to think of that as he pulled himself up the next ledge. He’d already had a close calls today, almost fell off before he found a foothold. Cole thanked Wojira that he hadn’t fallen to his death. If he was going to die, he wanted it to at least be dignified.

Only a bit more to the top of the mountain and then he could rest. Cole planned to camp there for the night and then go back down, hopefully without any major injuries. The broken ankle  still ached, and it had been months. He hadn’t been able to walk for two weeks the last time, and Cole wasn’t eager to have a repeat.

Huffing and sweaty, Cole reached the top. He climbed over the last few rocks and stopped, feeling pretty proud of himself, when he noticed the man sitting in front of him.

“Hello there,” the man said. He looked ancient, with deep set wrinkles and a long white beard. He took a sip of his drink and smiled.

Okay, that’s creepy, Cole thought. He had thought he was the only one climbing. How had he not noticed this guy?

“Wha— who are you?” The words exited Cole’s mouth without permission. He really should work on his brain-to-mouth filter at some point.

“Maybe that is a question you should ask, but first: why do you climb the mountain?” The old man looked at Cole with something like curiosity. Curiosity about what?

“Because it’s a good way to get exercise?”

“You can tell me the truth, Cole. I don’t judge.”

“How do you know my name? I never introduced myself,” Cole took a step back. Was this man some sort of stalker? Nobody knew where he was. If he got kidnapped, or murdered, no one would be able to find him. 

“Because I know you, Cole. I was there when you were born.”

“You know my Dad? Are you going to bring me back to him? Give me another lecture on how I’m a disappointment? I don’t need to hear it,” Cole crossed his arms and prepared to make a run for it. It would be suicidal to jump off the mountain, but he was a fast climber. The old man wouldn’t be able to catch up with him.

“I knew your mother. She was one of my students,” the old man stood and held up his hands in the ‘I surrender’ gesture. 

“Student?”

“I taught her to be a hero. Did you think that all the stories she told you were made up?”

Cole hadn’t thought about his mom’s stories in years. She used to tell him about great heroes who could control the very elements themselves, who tamed dragons and fought against evil. He’d loved those stories.

“You’re telling me that all those stories about ninja and dragons were real? Yeah, and I’m a giant purple unicorn,” Cole glared at the old man. This guy had to be crazy, spouting nonsense about real-life superheroes and monsters. Mom had told him those stories for entertainment and bonding, nothing more.

“You are stubborn. Also like your mother, I suppose. I can prove to you that all the old legends are real. You just have to trust me,” the man held out his hand. His face was a mixture of hope and worry and maybe a little bit of fear. Fear of what, Cole didn’t know.

Cole hesitated for a moment. There was nothing left for him back at home, if he still had one, and no one cared if he went missing. The only people he cared about were either dead or better off without him. His life truly couldn’t get any worse, and if this man had known his mom he couldn’t be too bad. Cole took the hand.

[wouldntyou-liketoknow]

Hi, do you take requests for x readers? Im really wanting some natemare x reader (they/she pronouns) fluffy cuddles maybe a cute date? Protective and mildly possessive Mare has my heart lol hes so precious and i love him, maybe its a date and Mare left to get drinks or something and a creep wouldnt leave y/n alone so Mare has to step in etc? Its okay if not that and its okay if you dont write x readers too ^-^ thanks :P

Call me Lyxie or Lyx ^-^

(for anon, ill be either Lyxie/Lyx or ^-^ anon if theyre free :P)

Weeeeell, this is a tiny bit awkward, considering the role I wrote Natemare into for Goretober 2022 (sue me, I took inspiration from FNAF lore.) But I'm still happy to write for him again! I really appreciate your patience. Hope it's okay!

(I am SO, SO, SO SORRY this took such an incredibly long time to post! The Goretober stuff and my last-minute Halloween Special Story had already been keeping me busy, AND THEN CHRISTMAS SEASON CAUGHT ME SO OFF-GUARD THAT MY HEAD IS STILL SPINNING FROM IRL CHAOS. I guess I should've expected that, because Christmas is always like that, but whatever.)

(Also, this is kind of my first time writing an x reader type story, or one specifically in a romantic sense, at least. So, sorry if this comes across a bit awkwardly 😅)

(Trigger Warnings: alcohol, eating/drinking, unwanted advances/creepy behavior, body horror, slight physical violence, strong language. Please let me know if I missed anything.)

___

You can be described as someone who’s skilled in rolling with the punches.

Now, rolling with the punches doesn’t always mean being able to understand things that really aren’t meant to be understood, but it seems you’ve got a certain knack. 

If you didn’t, then how else would you have found yourself in a nice relationship with a banshee-esque spirit?

Yeah, your and Mare’s first meeting had been a little awkward, considering you’d been sabotaging a cult that was trying to hold blood rituals in his adopted brother’s name, but you two still became fast friends afterwards. (‘Matter of fact, the adopted brother in question is a pretty chill guy, too. Shockingly chill for an eldritch abomination in disguise, at least.) 

Really, dating Mare has helped open up more of reality to you. Pretty much every aspect of the human world has a counterpart for no-so-human entities. (Yes, you sort of already knew about that, but thanks to Mare, you’ve been able to actually explore it for yourself.)

For example: the setting of your latest date. 

Holy Water Distilling Co. was one of many establishments owned and controlled in Phantom’s domain. 

By day, it was a tidy bar offering a pool table in one corner and a stage in the other. 

By night, it was. . .well, the same thing. The only parts of it to change were the clientele, as well as certain items on the menu. 

One particular evening, Mare just so happened to be up on the aforementioned stage, alongside a few of his musician-buddies. You, meanwhile, were seated at the counter, watching and listening as he performed.

(Not that you minded this arrangement. Mare’s affinity for music was what you initially bonded with him over, after all. You’d tagged along on his gigs before, and he’d never failed to make it a good time.)

Patiently waiting for him to wrap up his band’s last song so you two could enjoy the rest of the night together. . . 

“Y’know, it’s always easy to find some nice toys in this place,” an unfamiliar voice whispers from just a few seats away. “But I never thought I’d see a worthwhile human around here.” 

. . .and trying your absolute damnedest to ignore the stranger who just couldn’t seem to take a hint.

Similarly to Mare and Phantom, the stranger in question could almost pass for a human. Just not at the moment, since he’d obviously taken off whatever disguising veil he used (those were pretty popular among this crowd for many reasons). 

His eyes bulged from their sockets, lacking both pupils and irises. Just two orbs a little larger than the average tennis ball, coming in a shade of dark pink that looked more toxic than fluorescent, ever-so-slightly rolling around in his head as he stared at you. The grin he aimed in your direction would’ve been creepy even without his particular mouthful of oily-looking needle-teeth. 

You ground your jaw, feeling one of your hands curl into a fist on the bar counter. 

The bug-eyed stranger seemed to catch onto that body language. Though you didn’t look at him, your peripheral vision still allowed you to see how his smile fell. 

“What? I don’t get any gratitude for the compliment?” Mr. Bug-Eyes asked, his voice changing from smug to indignant in a heartbeat. 

“If you really think that being called a toy is a compliment,” you finally murmur in a clipped tone, “then you’re in for a rude awakening.”

“Oh, c’mon. I know what girls like,” Mr. Bug-Eyes retorted. “I’ll just never understand why you’re all so repressed.”

“I think you’re mistaking repression for self-respect,” you observed. 

You kept your focus on the stage, on Mare and his bandmates. You knew they were on their last song for the night’s performance. The music was winding down, but it was still awesome as ever. He’d asked for your help with lyrics and fine-tuning a good few times in the past, and that had been flattering enough.

But the fact that he was having such a good time singing the stuff that you helped him decide on. . .well, you weren’t sure when you’d stop riding that high, but you certainly weren’t complaining. 

“Fine, fine. I get it: you don’t want things to move so fast,” Mr. Bug-Eyes piped up again, nudging his bar stool a few inches closer to you. He didn’t seem to notice how you automatically nudged your own chair a few inches further away. “Can’t I just get your number, honey? It’s clear you need someone to talk to.”

“I’ve already got that covered,” you replied. “That’s how having friends works.” 

“That’s big talk for someone who’s here all alone,” Mr. Bug-Eyes sneered. 

You feel your knuckles turn white. “I’m not alone.”

“Well, if that’s the case, your company isn’t paying enough attention to you.”

“That’s none of your damn business,” you hiss, trying to keep your voice down. Yeah, you weren’t shy about potentially clocking this guy in the chin if he tried anything, but you still didn’t want to cause a scene. Not when Mare was wrapping up his gig, so close to finally coming offstage and continuing his date with you. “I already told you: I’m. Not. Interested. If you were half the guy you think you are, you would’ve left me alone after the first time.”

Mr. Bug-Eyes gave a melodramatic sigh, and a sickeningly sweet smell permeated the air around you. It almost instantly caused the first stage of a migraine to flare along the bridge of your nose. You shook your head, blinking as your eyes grew watery way faster than necessary.

A chill raced down your spine as you registered the weight of a hand on your head, ruffling your hair.

You jerked back, slapping it away. “Get away from me!”

The quick motion, combined with the smell, caused you to lose your balance. However, instead of collapsing onto the floor, you felt yourself being caught. Despite your now hazy vision, it took no time at all for you to recognize the colorful tattoos adorning your rescuer’s arms. 

Relief sliced through the awful type of adrenaline that was thrumming through your head. 

From there, things moved pretty fast. 

The environment around you was a blur as clouds of dark violet smoke poured from Mare’s eyes, from his mouth, through his skin itself.  

Mare guided one of your arms to rest along his shoulder, helping you to keep up with his pace. 

Cool nighttime air rushed past the two of you; you almost didn’t notice the deep whooshing sound of a heavy glass door being swung open. 

And before you knew it, you were suddenly sitting down again. The weight of Mare’s arm was still around your waist.

“Deep breaths. Take deep breaths,” Mare coached. There was a slight echo in his voice; his pitch seemed a bit all over the place. That always seemed to happen whenever he had too much energy, good or bad. 

You nodded, following those instructions. You raised a hand to knead at your temple. Then, after a moment of scrubbing at your eyes, you realized that you were now in a completely different part of the downtown area. If memory served, you were now a far distance away from Holy Water Distilling Co.

“Are you okay?” Mare asked, keeping a firm yet gentle hold on your hand. 

You finally looked over at him. His eyes were pitch-black, the purple tear tracks on his face now branching out like veins or tree roots. His skin had turned a deathly shade of gray; if you looked closely enough, you could almost see the shapes of his teeth and skull through the barrier. 

Despite his obvious anger, concern and fear were still present in his features. 

“I’m okay. I’m okay,” you eventually reassured him. Your head still felt a little funny, but now that you were away from the scent, your senses were much clearer. You didn’t hesitate to hug him, resting your head on his shoulder. He returned the gesture tenfold, sighing. 

The minutes dragged along, but you didn’t mind. 

“Whoever that idiot was, I think I’m gonna have to kill him,” Mare murmured after you pulled away. The edge in his voice had died down a bit, and his features were slowly but surely turning less ghoulish, but his eyes remained dark. 

“I won’t stop you,” you hummed, having long-since grown accustomed to his more monstrous side, “but could that wait a bit? Just until tomorrow?” 

Mare squinted at you, understandably incredulous. 

You shrugged. “I mean, you seemed really excited about the movie. The screening’s supposed to start in about. . .” You glanced down to check the clock on your phone, “. . .twenty minutes from now, I think.”

Mare’s eyes widened as a surprised snicker escaped his lips. “Priorities, priorities.”

You tilted your head as you rose from the sidewalk bench. “Consider it your reward for rescuing the damsel in distress.”

“Well, when you put it like that. . .” Mare was quick to follow, locking arms with you as you began strolling together.

[korebringerofded]

The Truth- Steddie X F!Reader “Changes” part 4

A/N- This is part 4 to the changes series but could honestly be read on its own. I will be naming each part as I have a lot planned for this right now! Sorry this took so long I have been very ill.

Summary- After you find Steve and Eddie tangled up in each other the truth finally comes out followed by a great show of passion.

KIDS STAY OUT OF MY S W A M P

Warnings/tags-SMUT SMUT SMUT FILTHY SMUT, heavy steve smut, slight size kink, stomach bulging, Steve having a big dick, Eddie enjoying watching, Eddie is a mechanic because I think its hot though its not relevant for this part, unprotected sex, wrap it before you tap it please this is FICTION, multipart, slight angst, hurt/comfort.

A/N-If you enjoy please like, comment, reblog as it helps me keep going! I am worried this series will die and I have had lots of fun so if you guys want more and enjoy please let me know!

Eddie and Steve sat on opposite ends of the couch, faces burning crimson that only made their partially faded bruises appear darker.

You stood in front of them, arms linked over one another.

If there wasn’t pain etched across your face Eddie would have joked that you looked like a cross mother.

“I just don’t get it. The last time you two were alone you were LITERALLY fist fighting.” You sighed, eyebrows furrowed. “Eddie, you accused me of cheating on you with Steve.” You rubbed your arms. “And now you’re the one sucking face with him in our hallway.”

You had tried multiple times to get Eddie to talk about what had happened between him and Steve, or why he was gone for so long and where. Despite your efforts ever since Eddie and Steve appeared on your doorstep he had been unusually quiet about the entire situation. In fact, he avoided bringing up or talking about Steve as much as he could.

It had created a wave of tension between the two of you.

“It’s…hard to explain.” Eddie avoided your sharp gaze.

“You need to at least try, you owe me at least that.”

“Yeah…I know.” Eddie sighed. I thought that I hated him, but really…I was just jealous of him.” He ran a hand through his hair. “Afraid of how he made me feel, afraid he was going to take you away from me.” Eddie avoided looking at you or Steve. He couldn’t stop his hands from trembling.

Steve almost laughed at that, it was ridiculous to him.

When Eddie was there, Steve was painfully invisible to you. It was never a choice.

“Then I realized that what I was feeling was a lot more…complicated than I originally realized. I actually didn’t hate him at all.” Eddie glanced up, knee bouncing as his eyes locked with Steve’s.

The electricity that crackled between their gaze made the hair on the back of your neck stand on edge. Eddie’s eyes flickered between you and Steve who looked at him expectantly, each of you holding your breath.

“You…have feelings for each other” You whispered, feeling Steve and Eddie’s eyes burning into your skin.

The room was still after that, the tension building up a thick wall between you three.

Your mind was running in circles, lungs burning as you forgot to breathe.

“So…do you not love me anymore?” Your voice was soft, tears rolling down your cheeks. “Is…is that why you left?”

Fuck…What had they done? They never wanted to make you feel unloved.

Steve and Eddie pulled themselves from their spots on the couch to rush over to you in an instant, Eddie cupping your face in his hands while Steve sat beside you, taking your small hand in his.

“It's not that, princess. I love you so much that it makes me act like a fucking idiot. I…” He glanced at Steve. “I never planned on any of this, but nonetheless I love you both. In different ways but..both at the same time.”

“And…” Steve cleared his throat, trying to settle his drumming heart in his chest. “Y/N I have loved you since I saw you again that day at Scoops. Everything after has just been my awful way of trying to keep you in my life.” He couldn’t stop the words that slipped from his lips. “And somewhere along the way… I think I fell in love with you too, Eddie.”

You were shocked, frozen in place between the two men as the tension seemingly evaporated.

“So now what?” You were meek, face bright pink as you looked between the two men.

“That's up to you, sweetheart.” Eddie smiled. “I know what I want, but I’ll never force you into anything.”

You were quiet, chewing on your lip as you processed everything that had happened.

You loved Eddie, that was easy. Steve was and had been your best friend for a while, when you walked into Scoops Ahoy that day your life was forever changed, you were sucked into a russian elevator, you almost died, and Steve had saved your life countless times. You had a crush on him for so long before all that had ever happened. And being with Eddie you didn’t think about other people, it wouldn’t be true to say you never thought about Steve. Especially in those few weeks you were alone, while Steve comforted you and cared for you.

“What if we were all together, all three of us?” You blurted out, face burning even darker at the silence that fell over you three.

Steve and Eddie were simply shocked that out of the three of them, you were the one that said it first. The two men had certainly been thinking about just that for so long it felt like fiction but hearing it from your perfect lips, made it feel real for the first time.

“Is that-what you want?” Steve choked out, eyes wide. He still wasn’t sure how you felt about him, and to be honest you were just as confused but something deep in your stomach pushed you forward.

You glanced between the two men, finding your confidence before you leaned forward, connecting your lips with Steve’s. You had never kissed before, the sparks spreading over your lips as they melded together, Steve wrapping his hand around the back of your neck to pull you closer against him.

Eddie’s mouth went dry as he watched, his dick growing embarrassingly hard in his sweats. He had thought about it so much it made his head spin and now it was inches away, your thighs rubbing together as Steve’s tongue took over your entire mouth. You both pulled away eyes low and sultry and a thin string of saliva connecting between your lips.

“Fuck, don’t stop now.” Eddie chuckled, adjusting to get a better view.

“Are you-sure?” You panted, feeling a bit guilty for leaving Eddie out.

“Yes, absolutely. I am more than fine with watching for a bit.” Eddie’s eyes were blown and huge like a predator honed in on his prey, the full outline of his dick only making your head spin.

That was all Steve and you needed to fall back into each other, Steve tugging you to straddle his lap where he pressed soft kisses down the side of your throat. You leaned into his touch, tilting your chin up to give him better access as his hands massaged your hips, running over your thighs.

You couldn’t help but whimper and squirm slightly when you glanced over at Eddie who pumped his dick over his sweats, his eyes hazy and locked onto you and Steve. Your sweet noises were music to Eddie’s ears and only sent him further over the edge.

Steve ran his hands over your clothed breasts, squeezing and running his thumb over your nipples as his lips continued trailing down your neck and chest, eventually nuzzling between your breasts and pressing breathy kisses to your chest. Your heart echoed in your chest, Eddie’s sharp gaze and Steve’s desperate deliberate touch was sending you over the edge, between your thighs was becoming unbearably hot even in your thin cotton shorts as your puffy clothed clit was pressed against Steve’s dick, your hips bucking against him as he tugged your shirt over your head, he groaned softly at the sight of your bare breasts. He hadn’t even noticed you weren't wearing a bra.

“Beautiful, isn’t she?” Eddie chuckled, now having snuck his hand under his sweats and boxers and was running his fist over the pink tip of his hardened dick, precum shimmering.

“More than I ever could have imagined…fucking perfect.” Steve rambled, twisting your hardened nipples between his fingers as you trembled under his touch.

You were becoming increasingly impatient and desperate, Steve’s fingers working expertly at your breasts while you grinded against his dick, you didn't need to see it to be intimidated, the curved shape even clothed made you twitch and mumble incoherently.

You were going to cum and soon if you kept this up, all the tension and stress had built up all in this moment.

Steve was reluctantly not far behind and knew he wouldn’t last long like this. It all felt like a dream to him. He wanted to take care of you, make you come undone and eyes roll back. He wanted to leave you breathless.

“Someone is a bit needy, huh?” Steve grinned, tilting his head to the side with a shimmer in his eye as he dropped one of his hands to your thigh, his thumb running over your inner thigh before they trailed over the soaked front of your thin shorts. All while he flipped your nipple back and forth, his long fingers pressing against your cunt and massaging your puffy clit through your clothes.

“Better give her what she wants, Stevie. Our girl gets impatient, likes to misbehave.” Eddie chuckled darkly.

Our girl.

Those words only made you feel more light headed as Steve gently moved you off his lap so he could tug your soaked shorts off, leaving you completely nude. This was all so foreign and strange and yet you fell into it with ease as Steve tugged off his clothes as well before he guided you back onto his lap, your back pressed against his chest this time as his hands trailed over your body, his hard dick pressing unavoidable against your puffy lips.

“Wanna give Eddie a good view, hm?” Steve mumbled in your hair as he brushed his teeth over the spongy part of your throat.

‘Y-yes…” You blushed, eyes locking with Eddie’s as you struggled to keep your composer. Steve slid his hand down your front before he pressed his fingers to your clit, grinding his dick against your slick cunt as he did. Your mouth fell agape slightly, legs trembling for a moment.

“Fuck…” Eddie threw his head back, jaw tight as he watched you both closely, he could hardly move. It was by far the hottest thing he had ever seen.

You felt your orgasm approach rapidly as Steve ground his dick along your cunt, the curve and bumps along his dick along sending sharp waves of hot pleasure over you. His long, precise fingers worked against your clit.

“Stevie…” You mumbled, drunk on his touch. “Please…fuck me.” You whimpered, glancing back at him with teary eyes.

“Think you can handle me, princess? I wouldn’t want to hurt a sweet little thing like you.”

“Yes, please.” You pouted a bit, shooting a glare at Eddie when he chuckled.

“Spoiled little princess, like I said.” Eddie snorted, though he desperately wanted to watch Steve fuck your perfect pussy.

Steve was bigger than you ever could’ve guessed and when he pressed his tip into your soaked cunt you were squirming and trembling as he held your hips still. You panted, chest rising and falling as he fucked you with just his tip, letting you adjust to his size for a moment.

Your walls tightened and closed around him, Steve having to prevent himself from painting your inner walls right there. Steve pressed his fingers against your clit as he fucked into you, his dick pressing deeper and deeper inside before he was fully in, a slight bulge from where his dick nestled inside of you, tears stinging your eyes at the fullness.

“Fuck you feel so good-fuck.” Steve rambled, almost drunkenly as he finally moved his hips, his dick pulling completely out of you before sliding fully back in, poking your belly and bulging the skin yet again.

Eddie was seconds from finishing, your belly enlarged from Steve’s dick fucking into you slow and steady at first before you brought your hips down to meet Steve’s and he knew you could handle more, he gripped your hips and matched your pace, his head leaning back as his dick pressed and stung your walls, that familiar heat building more and more rapidly before you were whimpering, mumbling and coming undone around Steve’s dick, the two men not far behind you as your walls tightened around Steve’s dick and he came with a start, grunting loudly and eyes squeezing shut as he fucked his cum deep into your cunt.

Eddie came in his hand and over his lap as he panted, eyes never leaving the sight on the couch in front of him.

“Think you can handle us both next time, sweetheart?” Eddie chuckled.

Requests are open!

Again, if you enjoyed please like, comment, or reblog.

It helps me feel like less of a loser.

Taglist-

@haylaansmi

@daddysfavoritesexkitten

@ilovecupcakesandtea

@kellysimagines

@paprikaquinn

@dylanmunson

@br66klynbaby

@sidthedollface2

@newshade

@wonderful-outcast

@bimbobaggins69

@thehuntresswolf

@harrys-tittie

[emumumimimi]

Summary: you were about to go home after school with your friends. until your friend, the leader of the phantom thieves, messages you. saying how he wants to hang out. And it seems like he isn’t the only one.

Word count: 1.2k (+)?

Tags: goro/reader/akira, use of akira kurusu, ooc akira??? (idk im sorry T_T), cringe writing, goro and the reader r friends from da past

A/N: first time posting uhm go ez on me,,,,,,

The bell rings indicating the end of school. The once peaceful and quiet halls of Aoyama is disrupted by the sound of after school chatters and footsteps of the students. You were packing up your things when your friends already called you to go out.

“HEYYY ya done yet?” Ichigo asked, approaching your desk with her school bag hanging on her shoulder. “Dude, chill. I’m still packing up” you said, putting your paper and pencil case in your bag. “Yea Ichigo, chill. We don't shove our things in our bag like you do.” Aiko said, just finished putting their notebook inside their bag.

Ichigo just huffed and threw the two people the middle finger causing them to giggle. Finally done packing their things, they head out of the classroom to leave the school. The three friends walk through the halls when one of them asks something. “Y’all doing anything after school?” Ichigo asked the two. “No not really, though i need to buy some stuff my sis asked me” you replied. Aiko also said “same with her, why?”. “I wanna hang around the boba shop near school, you guys in?” Ichigo said. Both of you and Aiko agreed in unison, eager for a cold, sweet drink after school.

As you and your friends chatter and walk to the gate, you felt a buzz on your phone.

Tallass: hey!

Tallass: your school just finished right?

Oh! Its akira. You quickly replied to him, minding your steps when you descend the stairs.

Tallass: hey!

Tallass: your school just finished right?

Shortfuck: yep

Shortfuck: we headen out to get boba and just need to buy some things. Y

Aiko sees you texting someone. “Who that?” They asked, already peering over your shoulder. “Akira” you said, looking up and see the school gate nearby. “OH! Is that the black haired so-called “delinquent” you told about and he's actually really nice and the accusations are wrong?” Ichigo inputted in the conversation, looking at you across Aiko. You sigh, “yea, i mean i can get where some of the students come from but like, cmon” you said with a pout. “There there~” Aiko patted your back. “At Least he has some friends that seem to really care about him” Aiko says. “And handsome too” Ichigo chirped

Right when you're about to reply, your phone buzzes again.

Tallass: im outside your school.

Tallass: ill be waiting :)

Your eyes widen doubled take at the message, not expecting for akira to appear in your school, especially on how busy he seems this week from the “metaverse” as he says (your still a bit shaken up from the information of “persona” and the whole phantom thieves going on in his life. Yet, you still support him nonetheless). 

You stopped and showed your two friends the message you just received. Cheeks slowly turn red as you wait for them to finish reading the text. Both of them laughed and said “DAMN (NAME). LIVING THAT WATTPAD LIFE” Aiko giggled while Ichigo snickers next to them. “Ah yes, the basic ‘I fell in love with the delinquent and changed his way’” Ichigo added to Aiko's tease, still giggling. Feeling more embarrassed by their teasing, you quickly speed walk to the school gates and look for Akira, afraid that he might’ve waited too long.

As you arrived at the school gates, you see a somewhat small circle forming at the side of the gate. Thinking that it might be the person you’re looking for, you went through the crowd. You mutter a bunch of “excuse me” “sorry” as you went through the crowd. You also heard a bit of gossip after going through the crowd. Ranging from “who is he?” “is he a student here” “my god he's hot” you chuckled at the last part. Finally zooming past the crowd, you found the person you were chatting a minute ago. He stood tall, with his bag on his left shoulder, while his phone on his right hand as seeming to check if there's a new notification as such.

“A..Akira!” you called out, a bit shy at first but gaining courage at the last second. The moment he heard his name called from one of his favorite people, a soft smile grew on his face. “Hey, (name)” he said with a smile approaching you. “W-what are you doing here?” you stammer out your words, embarrassed from the attention you're getting right now. “We haven't really seen each other that much for a few weeks, so I thought this would be a good day to hang out?” he said “that is, if your not busy?” he smiled a bit, putting his hands in his pockets and leaning to you a bit.

A hand suddenly slung over your shoulder. “Hey Kurusu! Dontcha worry! You can have (name) for today. We can always get boba together next time” Ichigo said with a smile on her face. “Yeaaa! You and (name) have fun for today~” Aiko said from behind you, seemingly pushing you to Akira. “W-w-woah hey w-wait! I haven't said anything that much yet!!” you half yelled cheeks turning red again as you try to stop Aiko from pushing you to Akira. “Do you.. not want hang out..?” akira said, looking at you with puppy eyes.

You turn beet red from the way he looks at you. “No, I do want too! I just…” you start to mumble and look down. You look back at Akira and see the same glint in his eyes when he teases you. You were about to hit him for it when you heard a familiar voice from the other side.

“Omygod! Is that Akechi Goro?!”

The crowd now starts to grow bigger from the exclamation of that one student. Girls started to squeal and other start to bring out a paper hoping to get an autograph from the famous detective.

“G-Goro?!” you squeaked out not expecting another person to see outside your school.

“Hello (name)” Goro greets, approaching your group, a pleasant smile across his face. “Hello, Kurusu.” he also greets, though his tone seems a bit more sharper and lower but only you can notice, after hanging out with the detective a lot of times. “Akechi! Hello to you too” Akira greets Goro back, not minding the dark gaze Goro throws at him. “Goro….w-what brings you here..?” you turn to him and ask, cheeks turning red again. “I wanted to surprise you and hope I could perhaps walk you home since it's been long since we’ve talk” he said, his tone softer than he had with Akira.

“Dude.” Ichigo whispers from your left ear behind you. “y/n life. Literally.” Aiko added, also whispered to you from behind in your right here. You look at them with a glare and cheeks red. “Is that so? I also plan on to hang out with (name) today. In fact, we were about to leave!” Akira said to Goro, having an arm already on your shoulder. “Oh really? I think (name) can hang out with you another day. Right, (name)?” Goro counters back, a smile still on his face but seems a bit strained.

“Uhm… ahahaha… uh” you said, sweating and looking at the two men, fighting over who you will spend your afternoon with.

[monmuses]

NEW YEARS REVIEW

     Man... where do I even start with this? Buckle up, this is going to be a long ride to review. I’ve gone through some shit and I am going to be tagging people that I’ve met, but please beware of the following topics I mention:

Depression, Mentions of Suicide, Mental Health, Self-Deprication, Anxiety, and Mentions of Mental Illness

     Alright, now let’s get into this:

     I, so far, have experienced a friendship fallout where I almost lost my best friend, a marriage dispute where I was stuck in the center trying to resolve both sides, being the “mommy” to an emotionally desperate 25-year-old who I only friended for a friendship but was used for his emotional baggage, and witnessing my own friends suffer from callout posts that they DID NOT DESERVE. I’ve had to help myself with my own depression and figure out how to keep going without giving up, but here’s my overall review of the year.

     Around last year’s Christmas, I begun college. I moved across state to Idaho to a college town and being five minutes away walking distance. I packed up all of my things, stored the rest, and ended up there with some roommates. It was actually a pretty nice start! I had high hopes because I finally got to experience independence and I was able to get away from my mom! I was excited and I got to be able to manage things on my own. I loved the snow, I loved the cold, and it was right in the middle of winter. I was so excited and was ready to start!

     Two weeks into my new start, I ended up experiencing THE worst friend drop. A friend who I THOUGHT was close to me and loved to talk Jekyll & Hyde about dropped me. They are notorious for disappearing for two weeks to a MONTH without warning and ghosting me until they felt well enough to say hi. We had so many good talks, I stuck with them and even threw out writing ideas for them when they were stuck. I helped with some character designs and blogs, but in the end? I was the selfish person. In their eyes, I was using them and was only their for artistic talent when I was there to be friends. I shared everything with them but they NEVER told me what was wrong.

     I left on my own terms after one of my other friends was ditched by them without warning and I ended up getting the broken bottle of bitterness straight to the face. I was called a number of names, being told that “they knew I wouldn’t ever be capable of change and that I will always be stubborn”. Needless to say, I suffered. That was the start to my depression.

     @vampyrnacht​ is someone who I consider a really good friend of mine. He was one of the other people that suffered from this in January and it was a situation that started speculation around the end of October. We’ve been constantly talking together and sharing ideas, but he’s just great. I love Milan to death and he’s just really fucking cool.

     Over the course of January all the way to June/July, I experienced moments of major insomnia and self-deprication. I hated how I felt about myself and thought of me as a sponge for people’s emotions. That’s all I was to people and I kept sucking it up wherever I went. I left an awful friend group after a month of joining because the owner was an emotionally-draining piece of shit that needed a mother for a girlfriend to take care of him. He confessed his crush to me a FEW DAYS into knowing him and I felt trapped. I was exhausted and it was in the worst month of the year for me, which was February. It took me the entire month to finally figure out that I did not deserve to deal with this shit. I left and ended up hearing about the worst tantrum he ever experienced from two separate people. Needless to say, I was pretty satisfied with being able to put my foot down.

     However, with all of these situations that have happened, I still suffered from moments of anxiety where I could not eat. I didn’t want to leave my apartment and I didn’t go to half of my classes. It got to a point where I suffered from MAJOR insomnia and didn’t want to sleep because of how shitty I felt about myself. I hated me as a person and I still hate how I am. There’s things about me I hate and I psychoanalyze myself in so many ways to where I find little reason to think I am deserving of anything. I like keeping quiet about most things

     May rolls around and I met @shermphibia when I first started adding canon muses (and was after the start to my second semester of college). Through him, I got to meet a number of LOVELY people. I have to thank Fink for letting me meet so many new folks. If it wasn’t for him? I probably wouldn’t have met so many people and I wouldn’t have the attention my blog has today. Xenophanes wouldn’t be my best muse, and I wouldn’t have made so many friends.

     June hits around, and in some way, I somehow fell in between a major fight. The one in question who started all of it is long gone, but I am still friends with the other person who I think is a very sweet person. Special mention to @th0rneprincess​ for being such a trooper and a genuine sweet person to talk to. I love Zi to death and I hope I get to write with you soon!! And another mention during this is @flyatahighergame​.

     Loke is one of the BEST people I have ever met. I see them as an honest-to-god older sister and she is really, really awesome. One of the toughest and most honest friends too. I love them to death and they are some of the wisest people too. I trust her with my life. She helped me through some of the tightest spots I’ve been in this year and gave me some pretty damn good advice. They singlehandedly helped me with this situation and was the only other sweet voice I could rely on for help.

     Around the end of July, I made it home. Shit happened to where I was punished for a number of things I did due to how poor my mental health was and I managed to get into therapy around September. However, since being home, my mom has been responsible for why I am who I am. Through the Besties Against The Throne server, I also met one of my other closest friends: @resiliency-in-starlight​.

     Usa is THE reason why I got further into South Park and ACTUALLY started writing South Park muses. Years ago, I actually got into the show when I was 14-15 years old (daring and awful, but I only watched clips). She is also why I write Damien and Pip now. I previously added some other muses, but I genuinely love talking to her. I got to know her more over time and she is someone I really consider a close friend that I’ve made this year. I love her to death too.

     Here I am now: It’s after Christmas and I’m typing this, trying to include everybody I can remember before finishing it up. I have gotten better at my writing, I now have a job, and I have hobbies that I continue doing to this day. I’m hoping to go back to college again ONCE I am in a better headspace mentally and can manage things on my own. I’m looking forward to a better year and one that I can survive a little better compared to last year’s.

     Some special mentions to @boriiqua​ @pvachypessa​ @purple-paw-muses​ @smileduponyou​ @bambino-muses​ @pompedia​ @dragcns-den​ @serpentine-rogue​ @aseriouscomedian​ for new friends I’ve made this year (and a few other old friends that made a comeback too) and to everyone else I got to know that I can’t tag right now! I have met a lot of special people this year that have singlehandedly got me to be better than I was before. Thank you to all of you that I got to become moots with this year too. Here’s to a better 2023!

[i-am-still-bb]

In the interest of “breaking the stigma” I think I’m just going to name what I’m dealing with outright, because if my husband had had complications from his gallbladder removal in January I would not have hesitated to share that. And I really believe that mental illness should be treated no differently.

(check tags before you click “keep reading”)

On the Monday after Easter (April 10, 2023) my husband told me that his aunt and uncle (S & D) were coming over to take him to the hospital. I asked why and I assumed it had soemthing to do with the emergency gallbladder removal surgery that he had at the very end of January. He told me that he had been thinking about killing himself. And that he has thought about it off and on for years. I learned no more in that moment because S and D arrived to take him to the E.R. He was admitted to a Crisis Stabilization Unit (CSU) that night. It was voluntary, but underthreat of the pink slip (sectioned / involuntarily committed). 

I felt like someone hit me over the head with a 2x4. I knew that something was wrong, because he’d been acting really weird since I arrived home from Sacramento (April 2) and he had been acting weird for a while. I had expressed my desire for him to stop taking the Adderall that he had started taking in early February because that was really the only thing I could see that had changed in recent months. (Doctors have since told him to stop taking it.)

On Tuesday I found his journal and found out that he had intended to attempt suicide on Easter if he could get out of coming to a family event with my son and I. Why Easter Sunday? Because of that family thing. Some of my family lives 2.5hrs away, so my husband would have a guaranteed 8hr window at least. And if that failed (which it did) he intended to try on Wednesday April 12th in the 1hr window from when I leave for work at 10:30 and when he has to pick up our son from school at 11:30.

The rest of that journal was basically a log starting on the previous Wednesday (April 5) (actually the same day that he had a therapy appointment) of all the things that were wrong in our relationship. How he views it as a failure. That he thinks there is nothing left to salvage. And more. That document is thousands of words long. I skimmed because I could not stand to read it. 

He did reveal these thoughts and plans (only the Wednesday one) to S and D on Saturday April 8th. On Monday the 10th he messaged S something that alarmed her and prompted the immediate trip to the E.R.

While he was in the CSU he was diagnosed with Major Depressive Disorder (MDD), Complex Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (CPTSD), and Bipolar 2. That last one is pending because if Bipolar is diagnosed in an inpatient, emergency setting it should be confirmed in an outpatient setting once the patient is more stable. That appointment is early next week. I guess fingers crossed, but not crossed?

MDD - duh, given the suicidality

CPTSD - I had suspected this for a while

Bipolar 2 - I was not expecting that, I know too much about bipolar to be really optimistic. 50% of bipolar individuals attempt suicide at least once. 40% have a mixed episode meaning that they can have the suicidality of the depression and the focus and drive of the mania making them more likely to plan and attempt to carry out their plan. Their risk of suicide is 30x higher than those with no mental illness. Their life expectancy is 10yrs shorter than the rest of the population. 83% of diagnosed cases are classified as severe. And its unpredictable. You can be stable on meds for years, decades, and then suddnetly you’re not. 

He was released late Monday on April 17th. And he returned to work. Before he was admitted to the hospital he did inform his manager that he was being admitted to the hospital and I communicated with HR while he was in the CSU giving them updates that consisted of that he was feeling better, antsy to get back to work, but still in the hospital. He returned to work on Tuesday the 18th. At end of business on Friday (April 21) they fired him. And given his glowing performance reviews, the amount of money that he had been making the company, the only real reason has to be the hospital stay. (On that note it looks like they’re contesting the unemployment claim.) 

This set him spiralling. He was planning suicide again. And didn’t tell me. Again. I was told that he was an 8/10 (0 being no suicidality or feelings and 10 being that an attempt was imminent) and I tried to help get that number down, but it went up to a 10. On Saturday he was still at a 10. D and I wanted my husband to call a crisis line. D reached out the the CSU and they contacted us. CSU asked my husband if he could come in for an evaluation. My husband agreed (he later told me that if he had been at a 10 in that moment he would not have agreed). D and I thought they would just talk to him, remind him of coping skills, etc. They decided to keep him for 23hrs. D and I were shocked. When they went to admit him the oncall doctor decided that my husband needed a higher level facility (severe suicidal thoughts is what they put down, and my husband disagrees with that, but can’t tell me what he wanted them to put). So the CSU sent my husband to the ER to be evaluated and later transported to a local hospital that has a lockdown wing. Once again it was “voluntary” under threat of the pink slip. He arrived at the lockdown unit Sunday morning. Everyone being admitted is subject to a 72hr hold and at many places weekends and holidays don’t count toward that. They did release him Tuesday morning (so only 36hrs into the 72hr hold). So he’s home again.

And he has barely spoken to me. 

I visited him in the lockdown unit on Monday. And it did not go well. He tried to tell me what to tell the nurse practitioner so they would let him out. I don’t toe anyone’s party line. And I did not respond well, but I tried to. I really tried to remain calm, and explain myself. But he decided that because I wasn’t just rolling over and saying “yes, master, whatever you want” that I didn’t believe him and that I was against him even though I repeated stated that I heard and understood him, and repeated his words back to him. No one is against him. They’re against the illness. I now know that some of this could be part of psychosis, a common symptom of Bipolar and would explain some of the other things like him believing that everything he is doing is wrong and bad. But that could also be the Depression. There is so much overlap between these things, which obviously makes it hard to diagnosis. ADHD, bipolar, CPTSD, and schizophrenia all overlap. But they each have a few things that makes them stand out from the other. but they may overlap as much as 75+%

So that visit did not go well. We pretty much sat in silence for the last 20m of the 45m I was there. And that silence has effectively continued ever since.

He went to group therapy yesterday and then went to S and D’s house without telling me, which, given the present circumstances raised my anxiety levels. Which I already have plenty of. If there’s a negative feeling or emotion I’ve probably experienced it in these past 2.5 weeks (except shame). 2.5 weeks that have aged me years. 2.5 weeks that feel like a lifetime. I’ve screamed, I’ve wailed, I’ve been numb, I’ve cried more tears than I can count, I’ve nearly puked from the emotions. 

And we still haven’t really talked.

And I can’t share anything I’m thinking or feeling with him because as of now the only triggers that he has identified for his suicidality are spilling food/drink, breaking dishes, upsetting me, me crying, or him feeling rejected (by me or by anyone else). Let it be known that I’ve made it very clear over the past decade that I don’t care if something gets broken or spilled. I want to know about it so I can replace the item, and I want the ensuing mess to be cleaned up. 

And as for me rejecting him. I didn’t get him lunch on Saturday because I assumed that he was still asleep. He was still in bed. He looked asleep. And I only got lunch for my toddler, not even myself. But in his mind he twisted that into proof that I don’t care about him or love him. He wrote that in the journal. He wouldn’t tell me that directly because I would get upset. He wrote more in the journal. And it’s pretty much all about me.

I trigger his suicidality. 

I KNOW that it’s the disease talking. But it really binds my hands. I can’t do shit without him taking it the wrong way. If I’m not making eye contact, because I’m trying to create a more comfortable space for him to be in while he talks, it means that I can’t bear to look at him, etc. 

And I know that I have my own things. I grew up with a highly neglectful and emotionally/financially abusive father, took up a lot of responsibility at a young age, had two relationships that had mild to significant levels of coercion when it came to sexual contact. Since our son was born in summer ‘21 I’ve had a lot more problems with anger and resentment. To be honest I probably fall somewhere on the mild end of the spectrum. And I’ve been so burnt out. And each time I expressed a need for my husband to even do basic tasks like putting his socks in the laundry, not letting food spoil on his desk, cleaning his bathroom (there are 3 bathrooms, I hate cleaning bathrooms, I am only cleaning 2), he feels like an absolute failure and wants to die. Forget about asking for help with our child when I’m massively overwhelmed and need a break. 

I am looking for a therapist of my own. 

And we were supposed to start couples counseling this week, but it was Tuesday morning and he wasn’t released in time to make it to the appointment, so it starts late next week. But I feel like most of our problems stem from the Depression. Him taking my face/words/actions the wrong way, his inability to do basic tasks (this is not new, he has been like this at least since August 2014), are all probably linked to the diagnoses. And I’m sure there are things about me that he wishes I wouldn’t do or would do. And I have asked that question explicitly several times. And I don’t get an answer. Because he doesn’t want to upset me. 

Leading up to this event I was asking him what was wrong. But the same thing happened that always happens. He just shut down and stared at me. And I would keep asking and trying to engage in different ways. And then I would lose my shit and yell. And then he would tell me something. And then we’d talk about it; and it was usually something ridiculously minor that he had blown out of proportion. And now I think he was in a suicidal place each of those times and he just threw me a bone to make me shut up. And now I don’t feel like I can trust him. But that’s something to be addressed in couple’s counseling that isn’t linked to mental illness. But he will probably see my mistrust as just another way that he has failed me, another reason why I would better if he weren’t here, so I don’t even think I can share most of this stuff in couple’s therapy because it’s all just going to trigger him. Maybe if we reach a point of stasis? But then I won’t want to talk about it for fear of triggering another depressive episode to begin. 

But to him (I think) I’m somehow I’m just supposed to be who I was on Monday the 10th while I was at work teaching my students about the Impressionists, who I was when I went to the gym after work, who I was blasting music in the car on my way home with the windows down and the sunroof open, who I was in the shower and getting dressed and thinking about what I was going to do with the rest of my Monday, who I was before an atom bomb was dropped in the middle of my life. 

And I’m not.

And I will never be again. 

I’ll be similar, but I’ll never be the same. 

And that upsets me. I have negative feelings about that too. Grief for who I was, grief for what I thought my future was going to be like.

And a grief for what the past was. Because I want to go back to before, but there really isn’t a before. He’s been dealing with this for most if not all of our relationship (we tarted dating in early 2012). And now when memory photos pop up on my phone I can’t help but wonder what he was really feeling, where his mind was. We went on a camping trip late last summer and those photos have been popping up. In each one where my husband isn’t standing or walking somewhere he’s slumped with his head down. And I feel like I can’t have good memories of that trip, because it really looks like he was in the middle of a Depressive phase. Or I can have the memories, but they are now tainted with knowledge that I did not have at the time. 

--

I am trying to take proactive steps. I’m looking for my own therapist to help me deal with this trauma that is likely to be ongoing, but also the anger and stuff. I also have a small worry that what is going to probably going to prove to be a repeated trauma is going to trigger something in me because my dad and his biological mother probably have/had undiagnosed mental illnesses.

I’m reading books about suicidality so I learn about it, but also so I can learn what I can do to help and support.

I have books about bipolar and CPTSD that are on my list. 

I agreed with no hesitation to the couples counseling. (I actually thought my husband would be the most resistent to this given his opinions on mental illnesses or having problems that require therapy/counseling meaning that you are broken, but I guess that may have changed and that is a good change.)

I’m taking a seminar with NAMI (National Alliance on Mental Illness).

My husband and I have a meeting with a NAMI coordinator on Friday (he hasn’t yet told me if he’s going or responded to my calendar invite). 

I’m considering going to some of their support groups for friends and family if I can make it work with childcare.

I’ve gone to church more in the past 2.5 weeks than I have in the last decade. I’ve been thinking more about mindfulness and trying to let go of desire because the desire is causing suffering. Religon has returned for me, I guess. 

But I’m pretty helpless in this situation. And I’m trying to accept that if he wants to he will find a way to end his life no matter what I say or do. And if he does attempt and complete, its not my fault even if it feels that way. 

--

EDITTED TO ADD: And now that I have legitimate reasons to be worried about his safety he keeps turning his location sharing off. We share our locations with each other. And it really only gets used to see “are you still at X? if so I have a question / request, but if you’re not there anymore, its no big deal” or “are you on your way home with dinner?” It was on earlier today when I used it for the first reason. He’s in the neighboring city visiting his grandma. Our rat needs something from the vet, but I don’t want my husband to be agitated if I ask for him to stop by the vet and he was already on his way home. I can probably call them tomorrow and pick it up on Saturday morning, but if he’s 5m away now it would make sense to do it now rather than me driving 30m there and back on Saturday morning.

(Location sharing is also what kept me from calling the police and ERs on April 8th when he was at D and S’s house. He left for a martial art around 11, told me he was eating with a friend around 1:30-2. And then wasn’t home until after midnight. I started to get worried when it was after 4 and he wasn’t home. But I saw that he was at D and S’s house so I wasn’t particularly worried.)

So I check his location. He’s still at his grandmother’s. I send the text. It’s short enough that the preview would probably show him the whole thing, so no big deal if it’s not “read.” I check a bit later to see if he’s “read” the message or responded. Nope. He’s been gone for 3hrs now and I check to see if he’s on his way home. So I know whether or not to add the perscription only rat food stuff to my to do list. And his location is turned off. WTF.

So he saw my message. Didn’t respond. And turned location sharing off. Thanks. That makes me feel great. Does he want me to be upset? Does he want me to bring this up? I’m not going to because I don’t want agitate him or myself. I’m getting so tired of the passive aggression. Just tell me your pissed. 

[autumnalwalker]

Find the Word Tag

Thank you to both @oh-no-another-idea and @talesofsorrowandofruin for tagging me. Combining this into one giant word finding exercise.

My words from @oh-no-another-idea were sunshine, low, dusk, yellow, & chair.

My words from @talesofsorrowandofruin were cat, clash, crumble, clutter, & creak.

Passing the tag on to @thewriterghost, @affectionatemeconopsis, @blind-the-winds, @theprissythumbelina, @writingpotato07, and the usual open tag for anyone else who wishes to join in.

Since I'm doubling this up, instead of five set words, how about picking five (or more) from the following list:

delay, block, lock, rest, look, reach, vent, stand, rain, & drop

Sunshine: The Archivist's Journal, Day 120

I tried delaying my leaving this morning, but the rain kept going anyway.  At least I remembered to bring the cloak this time.  Had to sacrifice a towel to keep the rest of the laundry and changes of clothes for the next week dry though.  

It certainly could have been worse I suppose, for it was really only a light shower.  The kind where it’s paradoxically bright enough out where you can see the sunshine reflected off the raindrops and you come out the other side of it more damp than wet.  Honestly, between the gleam of the droplets, the patter on the broad leaves, and the soft tapping on my shoulders I might have actually enjoyed the walk into the Village this morning if it weren’t for trying to carry an unwieldy load of laundry the whole way.

Low: Empty Names Side Story - There Are No Dogs At The Dog Park

With the woman no longer blocking her view, Sarah can see just how obviously she’s no longer at the same bus stop she sat down at.  Behind the woman - “Eris” and “Volunteer”  the nametag sticker on her shirt reads - is a long, low concrete building with grass growing on the roof and adorned with an emblem above its door depicting the stylized red outline of a howling wolf overlaid on top of a blue moon with the letters NALSA in white.  The same emblem is replicated on the volunteer’s t-shirt with “North American Lycanthrope Sanctuary Association” in smaller print around it.  In any other direction is nothing but empty scrub-covered prairie as far as the eye can see, broken only by the faint outline of dirt road the bus stop is situated on and the tall, inward-curving chain link fence extending out from either side of the building.

Dusk: The Archivist's Journal, Day 8

Last night was… nice.  After locking up the archive for the evening I wandered the Village streets for a time looking for the home I’d been invited to dinner at.  Fortunately James had given me directions before we parted, saying it was towards the waterfront so I only got lost once on the way.  Still, it was just past dark when I arrived.  It’s an oddly festive sight, these Village streets at night.  The rooftops, awnings, and doors are colorful enough by day, but once the sun goes down and dusk mutes their hues the villagers uncover the crystals on their lamps and a veritable rainbow spills from the windows to paint the white walls of the winding rows.

The crystals used to light the archives (from which stock I’ve been lighting my own home) are all a near-uniform blue-white, neutral and good for reading by.  The color choices for lighting people’s homes however are more varied, although how much was personal preference of the residents, versus differing availability of crystal colors, versus some manner of social indicator, I’m not yet certain.  Blues, greens, and magentas seem to be the most common although warmer yellows and oranges are not uncommon.

Yellow: Empty Names - 4 - Prince In Gold

Sullivan examines the riesling resting in its glass on the table before him.  He’d always thought white wines were misnamed.  Yellow, or even better, gold, would be a far more fitting description.  Alas, he can no better change that ill-fitting naming convention than he can get drunk off the beverage before him, as much as he’d like to do both right now.  Either one would make this reunion easier.  

But since buying up vineyards and restaurants just to change the terminology on menus would be a waste of resources and taking a drink before his friend arrives would be poor form, he contents himself with leaning back into the richly upholstered chair and gazing into the chandelier above while he listens to the music from the band behind him.  It is a lovely little piece; a sonata that some two-centuries dead Frenchman left unfinished until the restaurant’s owner conjured up his ghost to complete it.

Chair: Empty Names - 6 - Background Checks

For all its gothic gloom during the night, Bridgewood Manor is surprisingly well-lit during the day.  Mostly this is due to Carnette having installed large windows looking out onto alien landscapes in most of the rooms and halls not directly connected to the building’s outer shell as a flex on visitors, but - much like her - that is quite literally neither here nor there at the moment.  No, Sullivan’s gaze is set on his laptop.  The vista behind him is only worthy of his attention insofar as it’s creating an annoying glare on his screen, and even that he’s pointedly ignoring.  To move from his overstuffed chair to a seat with less glare would be letting the window win, and he’s not about to concede to an inanimate object in a contest of wills.  

Cat: A Dream About Gifts

There are cats on the train that serve some sort of specific purpose.  The nature of that purpose is a matter of debate amongst passengers.

Just before reaching the town in the North, the train passes through a tunnel with the massive corpse of an angel hanging over the mouth of the tunnel, chained and nailed to the mountain.  This always upsets some of the cats, especially on the rare occasions the train brushes against the divinely tattered flesh.  

Clash Conflict: The Archivist's Journal, Day 39

It was Vernon who broke the silence several minutes later, venting about how he feared that he’d handled the situation with the brothers poorly and that it was his fault their father died without his family nearby.  That if he’d been more decisive maybe things could have been resolved sooner.  And what if the brothers started resenting one another for how things played out?  His job was to help resolve conflicts, but what if he’d just transformed it into a worse one?

Crumble: A Dream About Going Home

I’m standing atop the battlement of a crumbling keep of weathered stone, holding an open book.  The scenery is both familiar and strange.

A party steps out from a copse of trees below.  Their regally-dressed leader calls out to me.  “Pray forgive our trespass, mighty wizard, and refrain from striking us down!”

I close my book and reply “I am just a simple wanderer, passing back through the land of my birth.  You are as welcome here as I.”

Clutter: The Archivist's Journal, Day 152

Well, I took the cowardly route and left a note.

It didn’t so much stop raining as slow to a light drizzle, but I took that as good enough, waited for Cass to leave after cleanup (even with the children cleaning up after themselves they’re not perfect, and there’s still my own clutter to take care of) I quickly penned an invitation (“quickly” after twenty minutes of second-guessing myself on whether or not to even do it), threw on my cloak, pulled up the hood, and stepped outside.

Creak: The Archivist's Journal, Day 47

And when it put down that log I gained an inkling of why the villagers call it a god and not simply a giant or another spirit.  For rather than simply dropping the log or setting it down lengthwise it planted the former tree trunk upright in the ground.  As the being pressed the log further into the earth I could hear the sounds of strained wood creaking and groaning and mounds of dirt began radiating out from it as if displaced by rapidly growing roots.  A few moments later the Wandering God stepped back as if to gaze upon its handiwork and then turned its head to look at us.