#and i just felt SO validated

[sti1es]

me living in absolute filth and poor hygiene: wow…. i’m so masculinity….

[bigfatbreak]

Birds of a Feather previous / next

[bastard-heir]

i was pregaming with the boys and my buddy tyler started going off on how cold it was gonna be that night, ribbing me for not bringing a jacket cause "man, you aways get cold!"

i offered to run down the street to my place to grab one, and he just stared at me like an idiot. "why do that when you can just borrow one of mine?"

i thought he'd just toss me one of his hoodies, but he ushered me back to his room and had me try on his leather jackets, watching me like a hawk and critiquing their fit more to himself than to me. "Nah, that one makes your arms look small," "this one falls on your hips weird", "you're swimming in that one, lol".

when he found one he approved of, he pointed me to a mirror in the living room where the rest of the guys were waiting. in my reflection was just some guy. just some guy, standing around with just some other guys, drinking beers and laughing at youtube videos. no too round shoulders or too wide hips or too long sleeves to give him away.

i locked eyes with our buddy jason through the mirror as drove his knuckles into my scalp and smiled, "That's our fucking boy!"

[pikhachu]

girls when their issues get dismissed as anxiety for the millionth time

[ellie-shy]

I get it. I understand Lucanis now. I understand him. So. Much.

I just finished his quest Inner Demons and locked into his romance. And I cried. I legit cried while doing his personal quest. Because I felt it. It felt so personal, to Lucanis, and to myself.

I'm gonna pour my heart out under the cut because Lucanis has just ranked up so high into one of my favourite fictional characters ever. And that means a lot to me.

When I played my first playthrough (and of course avoiding spoilers) I saved Minrathous. And I was devasted to see how Treviso looked in the aftermath. Then, Lucanis was hardened. I know that there will be consequences with Luc's arc but I was not sure what it will be. So, after finishing the other companions' personal quest and getting the Hero of Veilguard for everyone... except Lucanis. I really thought after defeating Illario I would get the Hero status with him, but nooooo. Only after finishing the main quest, I got it. But, I felt something was... missing. Something was missing with Luc's arc, but I couldn't put my finger on it. Thus, I finished my first playthrough.

Understandable, I did hardened Lucanis. But it got me so curious... what was it that's missing in Lucanis's personal questline?

Then I made my dear dwarven Grey Warden warrior Rook : Juliet Thorne, to romance him.

And I finally got to the Inner Demons quest, a quest that I never done before (and also tried so hard to avoid spoilers before doing it 😂).

Hold my hand while I confess this. I cried. I really cried when doing Inner Demons. This is what I was missing in my first playthrough?? Helping Lucanis escaped from his inner prison???

Inner Demons felt so personal. Like deeply personal. My Rook is actively involving herself into Lucanis's deep and personal thoughts. And you know what made me cry even more? This quest felt personal to me too.

I also understand Spite now!!! Why he wants OUT!! He didn't just want to go out in the world through Lucanis, he can't even go out of the Ossuary that Lucanis has made for himself, his own turmoil and guilt 😭😭😭😭😭😭

I get it now 😭 Oh God do I get it now (still crying btw).

Spite wanted to go out and it knows that they aren't in the Ossuary anymore, but why does Spite keep seeing the Ossuary? That is what made Spite so frustrated! Until Spite was desperate enough to ask for Rook's help because Spite knows, Rook "opens doors, never closing them" 😭 Spite knows the only way to get through Lucanis, is through Rook.

Lucanis, has made a giant wall to protect himself from everyone. Including Spite. He self-isolates, to the point of pushing Rook away. But he didn't mean it. Lucanis has a heart of gold. He is kind, he remembers my Rook's chocolate drink, he cooks for everyone, he considers Emmrich's vegetarian preferences, he buys things for the team, he isolates himself in the pantry because he doesn't want to cause trouble to anyone. He is a selfless bastard that's willing to sacrifice his happiness and comfort for everyone around him. Why? Because he thinks he doesn't deserve it. 😭 This mindset has developed after years of trauma. Years of training and torture... so he can be perfect. If he can't be perfect (which is the very high standard and expectation that he has set for himself), then he can never have happiness. At least that's what he thought. And I get it, because I have this trauma too.

This is why he punished himself so much. He was rescued by Rook and lived, but has a demon inside him. His city is saved, but at the cost of Neve's city. He made a god bleed, but didn't kill the god as per the contract. He killed Zara, his abuser, but he was devastated that Illario, his family, was involved. Every single time, everytime Lucanis thought he had a moment of victory/happiness, it will be at the cost of another he cared for. And he punished himself again, and again. Trying so hard to solve his own problems without involving anyone, and never asking for help. And that's why he pushed Rook away, he can't lose another person he cared for. Because he is such a selfless man!

I felt this, his trauma, fear and anxiety, I can relate with Lucanis. This feeling will eat you from the inside. It will make you develop a sense of self-hate, low self-esteem, not being satisfied with everything you have done and etc etc. It will drown you, literally, within your own spiral of self-hate. I cried while playing the Inner Demons quest, because it felt so personal to me too, as if I'm drowning again. But visualizing it with Lucanis this time. And hey, the Ossuary is an underwater prison. Lucanis is drowning.

And it's hard, you know. Because you will feel like no one is gonna help you other than yourself. Yet, you can't even save yourself. Lucanis couldn't save himself.

Until Rook.

The way that Lucanis just kept pushing her away, but my Rook just kept breaking down every single wall he built. Reassuring him, acknowledging him, supporting him, validating him, every step of the way. Rook didn't give up on him. Rook cares for him, so deeply. And nothing can stop her from reaching to Lucanis. Lucanis was so scared to lose Rook, or something would happen -- but Rook knows, it's gonna be okay.

I cried again because... to have someone like Rook, who willingly bring down every wall you make, carefully guiding you out of the place that's drowning you... that's special. That's very special. Rook is so special to Lucanis. Whether he was romanced or not, Rook is special. I was so happy for Lucanis, he has found someone, that will bring down his walls, that rescued him from drowning, that reassures him that he is enough. Because he is enough. And he will be okay.

This quest is so personal to me. Lucanis is a fictional character that resonates with me, so deeply. I understand him better now, because I see myself in Lucanis, and the experience he has been through are so similar with mine irl (minus being possessed ofc haha). It felt so validating, knowing that I am not alone. But don't worry about me, I'm in my own healing journey too <3 The moment I bawled my eyes out was when reading his thoughts fragments. My actual thoughts that time was "why does these thoughts sound so much like mine?".

Now I finally understand what was missing in my 1st playthrough. Knowing Lucanis, he built a wall to Rook, because he just lost his city. He has to put his guard up to Rook because he knows, no one will save him. Eventhough, in the end, he does trusts Rook, but not enough to bring his walls down. And that's valid, because I would do the same.

This is what makes his romance so meaningful and deep. He is vulnerable to a romanced Rook. He trusts Rook wholeheartedly. Literally, placing his heart on his hands and presenting it to them. Rook freed him from his inner demon (which was actually, himself), and guess what happens next? Lucanis would literally worship the ground Rook walks on. Let me tell you something, to achieve this level of trust in a relationship with someone like Lucanis, is otherworldly. I can't explain how meaningful Rook is to Lucanis. Perhaps even Rook wouldn't know how important they are to Lucanis. Only Lucanis knows how much Rook means to him. And me, the player.

Lucanis is a man that's going to treat you right. He would cook for you, he would take care of you, he would waste his time with you, he would do anything you ask. He would live for you, he would die for you, he would kill any gods you ask to keep you safe. His words and actions carry weight. Lucanis is indeed a passionate man, but his passion is only for the person that deserves it... a romanced Rook.

This is such an emotional post, but I just want to express how this short 'outing' quest means a lot to me. I won't go into detail on how much similarities I have with him. Just let me say this, I see myself in Lucanis Dellamorte, and I'm happy that I'm not alone going through the journey of healing my inner self.

Let me be hopeful, that one day, I will find my own Rook <3

[messrsrarchives]

i've spent a lot of the past 24 hours talking to various trans people in the fandom that reposted or dmed me about this video and i'm gonna yap here under the cut about it.

(i'm not a spokesperson for trans people obviously, and i don't mean to lead these discussions. i know i've had a lot of them recently but yeah it's been rough, i just thought this was interesting to share and can hopefully share a lil of how people are feeling.)

i've always assumed that the hate that i've received on my account was because of me? i post videos talking about discourses, i'm open about ships i like that are generally hated, etc etc, i've just assumed it was a me thing.

but then when people are mad about those things, it more often than not comes to slurs. it's come to people debating my identity, questioning how much of a man i am when i wear makeup, posting me on reddit pages, throwing the words tranny and "she-man" around farrr too much, and i thought "isn't it heartbreaking that this is their first thought?"

so it gradually became less about me as an individual, and instead my identity. and just that these people are mean.

and i made that video from the perspective of someone who's already upset. who's had a lot of stuff like this happen and is Sad about it.

but i've spoken to 47 trans people that reached out to me themselves about this, and have so many more requests to get through, and not one has said that they feel safe and comfortable in this space. not a single one.

so i thought i'd share some of the things that were said (with permission and anonymously) because i think it's quite interesting to see what the issues are:

the MOST mentions goes toooo: the discourse about male characters - namely sirius - wearing makeup and the way gender norms become the forefront of this - makes them feel as though people dislike "unconventional trans people" as one person put it.

alongside this, the hate for trans characters - namely regulus - and how people get very mad about it "reinforcing heterosexuality" - do not feel recognised as the gender they are, feel as though people are viewing trans people as "fake men or women" - quote.

discourses surrounding height, hair, 'gender presentations' etc - brought up by a lot of people and they recognised that this is coming from a good place (not reinforcing heterosexuality) but feel as though the amount of focus put on it is disproportionate to the presence of it. copy and pasted quote: "I'm a 5 foot 2 trans man and feel like less of a man because of it"

profitting jkr: (obviously, because that's what the video was about) i want to add that nearly everyone said that they understand the desire to, and were receptive of the fact you don't know what goes on behind the scenes re: donating elsewhere etc, but said that they've felt less safe since the surge of posts about the reboot.

guilt. which makes me glad that i posted about that here a few days ago because i felt alone in this. a lot of the people i spoke to feel guilty for being here, and feel as though they can't claim that this fandom is inclusive anymore.

comment sections: brought up by a handful of people who said that not enough people delete horrible comments on posts - one said "even if they argue against them it just feels worse than deleting it", another said "obvs i can't ask people to delete them on their own account but it does suck that they dont think to" - every person that brought up comment sections said that they tend not to look at them now which makes them feel like an outsider in the fandom.

cosplays: brought up by four people and feels relevant to above points about "gender presentation" - said that unless you're cosplaying sirius, they nearly always have to delete comments saying something along the lines of "xyz wouldn't wear makeup". all of them said that they just feel nice in it and never meant it in a bad way.

scared to be loud: scared to post, especially with face. a few acknowledged that they are scared to do so anyway, but worry about it in this space as well. bolded this one because it makes me so sad, but having been put on reddit pages for saying pete was their friend, i get it.

and the final point, a copy and pasted line: "i dont want to be represented when it suits them and i don't want to be a box they tick when adding diversity to a fic and then cry in comments. i dont want performative support"

ALSO ADDING HERE:

nearly everyone (bar 7 people) that reached out to me acknowledged that this is a minority, and not the majority. they were very clear that it isn't their whole experience, but is an issue regardless. a lot of focus was put on curating your own space and finding people who do support you, but algorithms don't always make that possible, and it's difficult seeing it happen even if they don't interact.

which is,,, yeah. that's the crux of it really. most of the time it's fine and it's lovely and things like this don't happen, but they still do, and how do you feel like you can engage when you don't know what side it will get on?

which,,, sucks. because there's not really anything anyone can do then. it's just screaming into a void and hoping that you don't end up on the wrong sides.

but anyway, i thought it was interesting. especially the comment sections and the headcanon discourse - which truly, i see less of on tumblr anyway but for all of the above reasons, don't fancy discussing this on tiktok right now which is the epicentre of it.

but yeah. food for thought perchance, and some very good discussions !! thank you to anyone that messaged me and allowed me to write this, you're not screaming into a void with me 🫶🏻

[moeblob]

A little ol' lady!

[read-write-thrive]

the dead boy detective agency main four are a polycule on various points of the aromantic/asexual spectrum (in addition to their various sexualities), with the various side characters playing the roles of parental figures or talking stages. thank you for coming to my ted talk

[twinstxrs]

the gorgug-porter conversation is interesting to me because like. yea for the overwhelming majority of the conversation porter’s being shitty & trying to fit gorgug into a box that gorgug just does not fit into by trying to make gorgug’s relationship with his rage more focused on the aggression aspect of it. but then there’s also this specific thing that brennan brought up again in the ap, which is that gorgug’s relationship with his rage is wholly “this is a tool i use to protect my friends.” which isn’t a bad thing! but that’s his Whole relationship with it, & gorgug seems to place next to no value on his rage in relationship to himself. which is problematic, because it’s first & foremost his rage.

being raised in a household with a sort of toxic positivity largely meant that, whether or not it was his parents’ intention, gorgug internalized the message that more traditionally “negative” emotions such as anger are the wrong response to something. part of the reason he prioritizes his artificing is probably because it’s “fixing” things. in comparison to being a barbarian, which gorgug associates with “breaking” things. good vs. bad behavior, in his eyes.

it’s a totally unacceptable bar to measure a 16 y/o by, but i do think part of porter’s reasoning for not letting gorgug multiclass is him recognizing that gorgug generally does not value anger as a valid emotional response to something, at the very least for himself. & that directly conflicts with what being a barbarian is, because whether you like it or not, that rage is what fuels you. but again, barring a kid from pursuing something they deeply care about in part (not entirely, porter has a lot of more bullshit reasons) because of their fundamental values & world outlook is crazy.

so yes, 98% of porter’s reasoning is pretty shitty, immature, rife with a toxic view that there’s only one proper way to access rage, & generally not a good thing to do as a teacher, but also within that reasoning is the 2% of ‘there is a fundamental part of yourself that you only value if you can use it to take care of other people & you need to accept that as something that can take care of you, too.’ but that’s something to discuss with a therapist or a guidance counselor, not something that should hugely impact gorgug’s academic future.

[vaguely-concerned]

my capacity to see a bad fandom take and just blithely say 'okay! I disagree' internally and move on because it's not my responsibility or concern that someone else thinks that has leveled up so tremendously over the years. I haven't quite escaped the pit of misery yet but I think I'm getting there

[lattuce]

shoutout to media with only one female character that’s just a vessel for a sexual assault and/or pregnancy plot line with very little or no characterization beyond that

[stevethehairington]

okay but the scene between buck and eddie at marie's grave in death and taxes is actually one of the like. most underrated buddie moments??? like. god. it's SUCH a good scene. there are so many LAYERS to that conversation, like they both have SO much going on in their heads. and like. they are literally sooooo close, like they are standing on the precipice there!!!!! it's SO!!!!!!

[spookberry]

Like its all very serious yet its deeply amusing to me how petty that situation was. Even Sako himself acknowledges he COULD have responded the same way Kaji did, he just chose not to cuz he was being a little bitch baby about it

[lambilegs]

strawberry lip gloss

where you and lee, one of your close friends, decide to have a totally platonic and super friendly sleepover (wink wink).

contains: bestie!lee, reader who owns makeup, brief discussions on the expectations of makeup in the workplace (set in the nineties, so going off those expectations), contemplations on femininity, slight nsfw content towards the end (so minors dni!!)

“you know, your house would make for a perfect serial killer movie,” is the first thing you say upon lee opening the door to you.

“well, even if I managed to forget it, I’d be reminded by you saying it… every time you come over,” she dryly replies, opening the door wider to let you in.

you nearly skip inside. sure, you had been at lee’s place tons of times during the months you two have been friends, but today is different. today, you’re sleeping over. god, you’re still not completely sure how you had managed to bring such a daydream to life. it had all started two weeks ago, when you had stayed over particularly late, watching movies with her and arguing with her as to why her theories on the killer in the show you’re watching made no sense, with her not missing an opportunity to rebut and drag in all of her extensive fbi knowledge. 

when it was time to leave, she insisted on driving you back home, seeing as it was midnight and she thought it too late for you to take the bus back on your own. despite the half hour drive it would take, she, as always, fulfilled her promise, the two of you listening to the radio as the windows were rolled down, the chilled autumn breeze refreshing and invigorating. 

your mind had been pinpointed on one thing, one question, the entire drive, but your stomach was a mess of webs at the idea of asking her it. but, right as you had placed one foot out of her car, ready to leave, you turned back. “lee?”

she quietly turned to you, eyes curious.

“would you be comfortable if I slept over sometime?” at her slow blink, you rushed to erase any possible connotations to your question. “I-I mean, just because, you know, I stay back late sometimes, and this would be easier on you. but, yeah, only if you want.”

she glanced away, staring past the window for a few seconds, before turning back to you. “sure.”

jesus, it unnerved you when she did that. sometimes, the most contemplative look would settle on her features, as though she’s searching her mind for some explanation of where atlantis is. then, she’d turn back, and reply as coolly as ever.

you knew she wasn’t one for jumping up in her seat and letting her voice reach several notches higher when in agreement of something. but, still, the casual way in which she replied made you worry she had perhaps just taken pity on you, or felt pressured. you knew she was a wholly honest person most of the time, and couldn’t lie for shit, but still. maybe she felt bad for you since you’re a friend, or just felt less enthusiastic about the whole thing in general.

a week later, she had called you to talk over an article she had read in the newspaper that she thought you’d be interested in. a month ago, she had started doing that, after once giving you a newspaper clipping she had cut out, to which you insisted she could just call you. in all honesty, your insistence was really just an excuse to call her and hear her voice. not that the gesture went unnoticed. when she had first handed you the thin flap of paper, awkwardly explaining that she thought you’d like it, you nearly melted into a puddle on the spot from her kindness. when you thanked her profusely, she just nodded quietly, avoiding your gaze, clearly uncomfortable with the bouts of verbal affection.

during this phone call, you had asked her when she was free next, and when she admitted to friday evening being her only time available for a longer hangout since she got off at 7:00PM, you whined on the phone, complaining that’d only give you two so much time, since she wouldn’t reach home until 7:45PM. 

on the other line, lee’s lips had curled up at your petulant tone, and her stomach flipped at your honest, exposed want to see her. she couldn’t help but like it — how you didn’t try to diminish your desires or mince them up into digestible slices for anyone. how she could have confidence in your friendship. 

mind reeling back to your words, she had hesitated, before saying, “you could sleep over?”

and, duh, you said yes. which led to your exact position now, with you kicking off your shoes at her front door, a backpack pinching at your shoulders, duffel bag gripped tightly in your palm. lee immediately stretches her arm out, fingers brushing yours as she takes the duffel from you, hoisting it onto her shoulder and silently padding through her wooden home to the living room, setting it down. she’s out of her shoes, in a dark pair of socks, remnants of her work clothes still wrapped around her body. her fbi badge is rolled up and lying on her desk, belt hanging on the chair, leaving her in her dark slacks, a deep maroon shirt and mused ponytail. your fingers twitch, itching to comb down her brown hair, which is practically a glowing halo on her head from the golden light filtering through her windows.

you set your backpack down near the couch, which you flop down on. “how was work?”

“good.” she slowly approaches you, gingerly seating herself upon the arm of her couch. when you give her a pointed look, she looks away. “tiring. everything in this case is dependent on the minute details.” she hesitates, sucking in an exhausted breath. “I feel like I’m racking my brain every moment of the day to figure it out.”

you nod, shifting your body so you’re turned to her, the side of your torso pressed into her cream couch. “that’s understandable. it’s like a puzzle.”

her lips press together. “it is. but, one that feels like I can never put together perfectly. there’s always one piece misshapen.”

you frown. “that sounds really fucking frustrating.” she nods, eyes downcast. the bags under them are darker than usual, and something in your stomach squeezes softly at the sight. “it’s really admirable, though, how hard you’re working to fit and find all the pieces.”

she blinks at you. “it’s my job.”

"and? that doesn't mean everyone in your position would have your goodness and integrity. they should, of course they should, but still, give yourself some credit for being so invested and determined, lee."

her lips part, words catching in her throat, before closing them again. she doesn’t know what to say. it isn’t the first time you’ve praised her so earnestly, but she still doesn’t know how to handle it. she isn’t used to it. most of her coworkers see her as a mixture of passive and emotionless, while simultaneously being someone who cares too much. there had been all too many times where a partner of hers just wanted a quick arrest, but she insisted on more, pushing for all the details to be flushed out and explained, no matter the toll it'd take on her. she knew it wasn't ideal for them, but she didn't care about what was ideal and easy to wrap up. she cares about what’s right.

she knows this, but to be complimented for it unnerves her. she doesn’t think of herself as some sort of extraordinary, let alone admirable, person, and she doesn’t expect compliments to come her way because of her work. so, to receive them, and be face to face with how someone else sees her actions, gives her a rush of surprise and embarrassment. 

she shrugs. "still, it's just the right thing to do. that's all."

you smile fondly at her. her downplay of her actions makes them all the more admirable to you. she's humble to a fault – sometimes, you think it endearing, and other times, you want to shake her and scream at her about how good she is. she doesn't seem to realize it enough.

after silence hangs between you two for a few minutes, she clears her throat. "so, how do we do this?"

"do what?"

she stares at you, perplexed. "the sleepover."

laughter immediately bursts from you, arms crossing over your stomach. "do you want a rulebook or something?"

she rolls her eyes. "I mean, what do you want to do right now?"

you flutter your eyes at her mockingly. "oh, I don't know. let's play truth or dare and talk about boys."

she scoffs. "sounds fruitful."

seeing her reaction only heightens the urge to annoy her more. "truth or dare, harker?"

she glances at you, lips pursed in unamusement. when you continue grinning, goofy and wide, she sighs, eyes sliding away. "dare."

you whistle. "oh, wow, I'm impressed. someone has guts."

"you do remember my line of work, right?"

you ignore her. "hmm... what's a good dare?"

even though she knows you're just playing around, she can't help but hold her breath in anticipation. she can tell that you love pushing at her buttons, almost as though you want to test how much she’ll deal with if it’s you in question.

"I dare you to drive me to the grocery stores, so we can get snacks." you throw your legs off her couch, grabbing her keys and tossing them her way.

she catches them with ease, not even flinching. the sight has you gulping – god, that was damn attractive.

as she bends to retrieve her shoes, she looks up at you. "you know, I do have some snacks here."

you raise a doubtful eyebrow at her. "cereal is not a snack."

"yes, it is. you can eat it with your hands, and it comes in small proportions.”

"same with peas," you swiftly remark, pulling a face with her. "do you consider peas a snack?"

she nods, her face the epitome of seriousness. "yes."

you giggle, opening the door to the cool evening, sun dipping into the horizon. the sky is painted with streaks of blush and peach, kissing the trees surrounding lee's home with warmth, the yellowing leaves glowing.

she walks ahead of you, tugging the passenger door open for you. you feel butterflies swarm into your stomach at the gesture, quietly thanking her and sitting comfortably.

at the grocery store, you two languidly roam around, drifting in and out of conversation as you fill your shared grocery cart to the brink. lee picks up a pack of spicy instant noodles, and despite your wince, she smiles and tosses them into the cart. you grab two bags of chips and some sodas. when you guys enter the sweets' section, your mouth nearly juts into an enamoured pout at the sight of her eyes lighting up. 

she picks up a box of brownies, showing them to you, hesitation slowing her moves as though she's a child at show-and-tell. "my mom used to get me these."

gratitude swims in your chest at the piece of information she shares. it took months of knowing her before she started offering tidbits of information regarding herself, especially those having to do with her mother. 

you snatch the box of brownies, plopping it into your cart. "get them."

"are you sure?"

you guffaw. "lee, I'm not going to withhold you from a pack of brownies."

her lip quirks up. "how would I know? you might have very specific regulations for your sleepovers."

you roll the cart away, relishing in how she immediately falls into step with you, her shoulder brushing against yours. "that sounds more like you, lee."

she snots. "I don't think I've attended enough to qualify as a connoisseur."

you groan. "god, 'connoisseur'? you really are a dork."

her eyes crinkle at your words, almost as though she enjoys your playful insult. "still sure about coming over?"

you bump her shoulder. "yeah, don't worry, you being a dork doesn't make me wanna hold back on a sleepover."

"well, actually, I was asking it more for my own sake."

"oh, fuck off, lee."

when you both return home, you immediately set to taking out your skincare from your duffel bag, heading into her bathroom to wash your face before you get too tired. when you place all your products next to hers, you pause, a part of you feeling nearly giddy with delusions at the sight of your guys' bathroom products next to each other. there’s something so domestic about it.

when you come out in your PJs, lee clears her throat at the onslaught of shyness beginning to worm its way through her. she's already nervous for the sleepover as is, but seeing you in this state, in the clothes you sleep in, feels all too intimate for her to handle. she rubs her hands together from where she's seated on her couch, trying hard to think of the right way to proceed. 

after her eyes dart between your finger and the coffee table in front of her a few times, she stands. "I'll go shower and change. you can, um, order the pizza."

when she re-enters the room a half hour later, it's your turn to feel your face heat up, forcing your eyes to remain locked onto her television. god, how the fuck does she make wet hair look good? it isn't your first time seeing her in such a casual state, but it still gets you flustered nonetheless to see the ever-so professional agent in such a cozy change of clothes.

"let's watch Scream," you say, trying to maintain some normalcy amidst your thumping heart.

from where she pats her hair down with a towel, she warily watches you walk to her television and set up the movie. "okay, but I'm not driving you back home at 4:00AM if you get scared from all my windows after."

you pout at her, walking back to the couch and grabbing the remote. "you're so mean. you wouldn't do that for me if I was really scared?"

she gulps, feeling something in her knees buckle at the sight of your lips softening into a frown. she hates to admit it, but she'd probably go so far as to give you a piggyback ride back home if you truly needed it. "well," she mumbles, trying not to give too much of her feelings away, "you wouldn't have to be scared. I'm here."

the proclamation makes you swoon internally. "oh, yeah? you'd protect me?"

"well, I'm not in the habit of letting friends get stalked and harmed in my presence, so, yeah."

you nearly glare at her as she continues wringing her hair out in the towel, bare feet softly thumping against the floorboards as she approaches the couch. she isn’t wrong – of course she wouldn't let any of her friends get harmed. she wouldn't let anyone at all get harmed in her sight, period. but, her admission only means that your attempt to flirt has crumbled into the wind, and she totally missed it.

you try again. "yeah, but, you know, are you that protective over all your friends?”

she seats herself down on the couch, crossing her legs at the ankle. “I guess so.”

you nearly roll your eyes. “all?” 

“yes?” she glances at you with knitted brows. she doesn’t understand why you’re pressing when it comes to such an insignificant question. her answer is true – she would protect anyone she could, and that includes friends. “why?” 

“no, no, just asking.” you try to avoid her gaze by switching on the television. it’s so unfair – how the moments when lee does make eye contact, it’s the sharpest, most intense act in the world. maybe it’s just her fbi skills or her natural tendency to observe coming into play, but when she looks at you, you feel like she can crack open your mind and read every thought.

“why did you ask more than once?”

“well, I,” you splutter, “I was just curious if it was a me thing or an all-your-friends thing.” the words feel so weak to your ears, and you wince. it’s true, but you’re definitely trying to play up the nonchalance as opposed to what you really feel inside.

“it’s for all my friends.”

internally, you deflate. you give her a small smile, feeling immensely pathetic. “ah, okay.”

lee’s eyes rove over the side of your face. your lips are pinched down, and you blinked faster at her words when she spoke them. she wonders if what she said hurt you. she doesn’t understand why – she cares for more than one person, and caring comes with wanting to protect them. it wouldn’t be reserved for any singular person, it’s an automatic for her as soon as she cares for anyone. so, then, why does she feel guilty? she sighs. she supposes what she feels for you is strong enough to have her feeling bad even when it makes no sense. 

lee glances at you again. you’re quiet, and staring blankly at the television. okay, so it seems like you might indeed be upset. tentatively, she says, “but, that doesn’t mean you’re not, um, important.” after a pause hangs, she adds, “to me, I mean.” the confession is one that has an uncomfortable heat reaching her ears. it’s not often that she says something so honest and open, and well, affectionate to you. the words taste foreign on her tongue.

but, it’s worth it when you give her a wide grin. “yeah?” 

she nods quietly, hoping you’ll drop it and not tease her. 

apparently, she’s an idealist, for you shift closer, cooing at her, “awe, so you care about me?”

she sighs. “please turn on the movie.”

with a chortle, you obey her request, switching on the film. inside, you’re still overwhelmed by what she just said. lee wasn’t one to mince words, so if she said you’re important to her, she must mean it. and that does something to you – it makes you warm and flushed inside out with delight.

as you watch, you find your gaze drifting to lee, who watches the film with intent focus, eyes honed in on the screen. she’s not the hugest fan of horror films, you know that, but still, it’s her innate instinct to observe and, if applicable, solve any film you have to show her. and you have shown her many. she’ll sometimes complain and grimace if you propose to her one she doesn’t find appealing, but she always gives in. you smile at the thought. you don’t know if she returns your romantic feelings, but even if she doesn’t, her natural care is enough to give you some fulfillment. at least right now.

you continue to stare. her lashes are so long and pretty. even without the mascara she usually puts on for work or going out. her brows are dark and bold, just like her sharp eyes, and her nose is long and pointed. her lips, thin and pink, look so soft. she’s beautiful.

lee can feel you watching her. there’s a heavy weight bearing on her from your gaze, and she tenses up, fiddling with the loose threads of her sweater. she wonders if you’re judging how she looks or simply observing her. after a moment, she can’t take it anymore. her head tilts towards you. “what is it?”

you internally curse. god, why did all your sense of subtlety completely vanish when you have a crush? you cross your arms over yourself, trying to shrug off the question. “nothing.” you know you can so use this opportunity to your advantage, as a way to flirt with her, compliment her, but you hesitate. you already got caught staring at her, so complimenting in addition to that might be too much. but, still, you can’t resist. you want her to know how pretty she is. “you just… you look really nice right now.”

the corner of her lips flinch and she blinks harder at the television. no smile, no laugh – you know she must feel awkward or embarrassed with the attention. with a tight nod, she mutters, “thanks.”

“you know, you don’t even need the mascara, your lashes are already so long.”

the lashes in question flutter as her eyes flicker about. “I just wear it for formality’s sake.”

you nod slowly. you had assumed as much. and with that thought, comes a new idea. one that has your lips curling up in mischief. “would you ever let me do yours?”

“do my what?”

“makeup.” 

she seems deeply confused. “why, what’s the point?”

“for fun.” your lips quirk up, turning fully to her. “besides, haven’t you heard? this is a quintessential part of sleepovers.”

“hm, is it?” a slight smile rises to her lips, the laugh lines at the corner creasing beautifully. like gift wrapping paper. folding and pressing to hold something tender within. “I guess you won’t take no for an answer, then, right?”

“nope.” 

she snickers quietly, shaking her head. “fine. just this once.”

with an eager squeal, you hop off the couch, racing to where your backpack lays in her bedroom. you rummage through for your makeup bag before dashing back to the living room, where she’s carefully twining her hands together in her lap, watching them.

“I’m guessing we won’t watch the movie.”

you still at her voice. despite having chosen the movie yourself, and her not enjoying horror, it sounds like she’s actually disappointed at the idea of ending it early. the thought makes you both touched and momentarily saddened. “no, no, we’ll keep it on. you can watch, and I’ll listen.”

as you seat yourself cross-legged on the couch, facing her with your right side to the television, she glances at you wryly. “except this is a film, not radio.”

you snort, unzipping the bag. “I’ve seen this film before, I won’t miss anything.”

lee’s eyes peak at all the products, widening a bit. she was never one for makeup herself. she just never had an interest in wearing it, and a lot of it usually made her feel uncomfortable due to the stimulus of it. the only reason she dabs some on for work is merely because it’s protocol, the way her badge and uniform is. she knows it’s expected of her, and she’s fine to apply just a faint amount of it if it means she can head to work and start on her assignments without complaint. 

“not a lot, though,” she says, feeling a tad intimidated by all you have. all she owns is one tube of mascara, one lipstick that nearly matches her exact natural colour, and foundation that she rarely uses. “it doesn’t feel comfortable on my face.”

“okay, okay, I’ll just do eyes and lips, then.” you couldn’t really care less, in all honesty. you’re just happy to have free reign on her face in any capacity. for at least now, you have an excuse to ogle her. “okay, turn to me.”

she frowns. “you said I could watch.”

“ugh.” you roll your eyes, lips pinched as you try to think of a solution. one starts blinking in your head, but it’s going to require a lot of proximity. your mouth twists in both amusement and shyness. it’ll be closer than you’ve ever been to her, but again, the makeup is working miracles with how perfect of an excuse it is. you might as well utilize it. “okay, then, can I just…” you stretch one leg over her lap, foot resting against the arm rest. it gives you the chance to be close enough to her that you can keep your back facing the television, while she can continue watching.

lee’s breath hitches at the casual display of intimacy. she knows friends do this kind of stuff – even her own friends do it. but, with you, it’s different. because not only does this physical link create the same awkward tension it does with most people who she’s unaccustomed to sharing such intimacy with, but mixed in is a pit of desire, craving for you to get even closer. maybe press your chest to hers, sit fully on her lap, tuck your head under her chin. these longings – she’s been having more of them lately, and they grip her so fervently she’s not always sure what to do with them.

“is this okay?” you ask, your eyes imploring.

she nods, not trusting her voice. 

you pull out a brush with a small bunch of bristles at the top. “you’d look good with these tones.” you point your brush at the brown shades, looking at her expectantly. 

except lee doesn’t know anything about makeup, so she’s unsure as to what kind of input she could provide. “I wouldn’t know any different.”

“which makes you the perfect victim for this.”

she raises an eyebrow. “victim? should I be concerned?”

“maybe just a bit.” with a smirk, you lift the brush up, feeling tingles in your hand when you press the side of it to her cheek, lifting the brush. “close your eyes.”

she delivers you a pointed look before shutting her eyes. “I don’t know how I feel about being at your mercy like this.” her voice is hushed in a light, teasing tone.

“don’t worry, the brushes aren’t the most efficient weapon,” you giggle, swiping the light, cream coloured base along her eyelid. even this part of her is so pretty, glowing under the orange light of her cottage. 

she mutters, “it’s not very reassuring that the reason I should feel safe is because your brushes aren’t a weapon rather than due to your decision-making skills.”

you burst into a loud bout of laughter, stilling the brush for a second. “hey, listen, they always say living with a friend can make or break with what you guys have, so I don’t know, maybe you’ll piss me off tonight and I’ll get some wandering thoughts.” you continue dabbing the power on her other eye, brush stroking in smooth, gentle sweeps.

“might I remind you whose house this is? and who’s the fbi agent here?”

“no, you may not.”

a small huff of laughter puffs from lee’s lips. she doesn’t think she’s ever told you this, but it’s easy to have this back-and-forth with you. it’s not often that that happens – not that she has many long term bonds to use as reference points. but, she usually struggles, even with coworkers she’s known for years, to lose herself to an easy, effortless conversation. it took time, yes, but with you, it feels as instinctual as brushing her teeth in the morning. lest for the few tense moments that arise from her attraction to you. she usually tries to ignore those.

you swap brushes, patting the new one gently into a darker shade of brown. you hesitate before gently grabbing her chin, keeping her steady. you can see the way her throat bobs at the touch and it sends a surge of pleasure and itching curiosity within you. does your touch ignite something in her that hers always does for you?

you start dipping the brush into the crease of her eyelids, and you stifle a laugh when she hums quietly. “enjoying it?”

“it feels okay.” 

“just ‘okay’?” you press with a coy smile. 

“mhm. you’re too unsteady for it to feel truly good.”

your eye twitches, refusing to give into the amusement bubbling in you. “oh, fuck off.”

a few minutes later, you pull back, admiring your handiwork. “open your eyes.”

she does, and her eyes pop out a bit more than usual with the shadows surrounding them. she blinks tentatively, looking a bit like a startled deer caught in the middle of the road. 

“very pretty,” you laugh, patting down her warm cheek affectionately. and it’s true. it’s different from her usual look, that’s more than evident, but she still looks beautiful. 

lee hums thoughtfully, shifting her gaze back to the television. this is an embarrassing position for her, to say the least. and she’s acutely aware of the anxiety beginning to rise within her stomach, giving it a dull sort of ache. she’s not necessarily insecure about how she looks, but there’s something deeply exposing about having your face so close to hers, and having every minute detail of hers fully revealed. the touches you’re giving don’t help either. the brushes of your fingertips against her skin, the warmth of your breath on her chin, the lingering of your gaze. each miniscule movement you make on her face has her shoulders unintentionally tensing.

when you start drawing a faint, brown line along her lash line, her closed eyes immediately squeeze. 

“lee!” you whine loudly. “stop moving.”

“I’m not.”

“yes, you are! your eyes keep flinching.”

her eyes open and flick towards your eyeliner. “you’re poking me.”

“I’m not!” you laugh, leaning in close again, the thigh of your extended leg pressing against her stomach. feeling the soft firmness of it makes your gut turn, and you try to ignore the contact, praying the effects of it don’t show on your face. “just try to relax your eyes.”

you start pressing the point of the pencil in, drawing the eyeliner carefully. you bite your lip in concentration, moving carefully.

her eyes pinch together again. 

“lee!” you scoff in exasperation. “I am begging you, please stop your damn eyes from moving.”

she cocks her head at you. “it’s out of my control. besides, it’s uncomfortable when you draw it.”

you snicker, muttering, “oh, strong fbi agent, my ass.”

“what was that?”

you flash her a sticky sweet smile. “oh, nothing.”

“mm.” as her eyes shut, and you continue your ministrations, trying to lighten the pressure of the pencil for her sake, she mumbles. “I am stronger than you.”

“oh, yeah?” you know it’s true. the girl across from you has been through years of training in police work, the academy, and a work out routine she’s stuck to since she was twenty and decided to go into law enforcement. but, you can’t help it, you just love challenging her. “prove it.”

without a moment’s notice, her hand darts up, latching onto your wrist and keeping your hand hovering above her face. you grunt softly, trying to shake your hand out of her grip, but her fingers clutch onto you with an unwavering strength, keeping the limb locked in place. her eyes are still closed, but a faint smile plays on her lips.

after a few more seconds of struggling, you sigh, voice slightly petulant as you say, “okay, okay, I get it, let me go!”

“do you get it?” lee taunts back quietly, grin widening. it’s satisfying, in a way. you’re always all talk with her, teasing her mercilessly, trying to get a rise out of her, annoying her. having moments like this where she gets the upper hand are amusing, to say the least, and she takes a secret pleasure in them.

and you? well, thank god her eyes are shut, because that little comment, and the tone she says it with, have you shifting in your place, trying not to draw attention to the movement by stiffening your leg on her lap. there’s something so attractive about it. lee has her insecurities, yes – as her friend, she’s revealed some of them to you during late nights spent at cafes and aimless drives. but, she also carries herself with a quiet, subtle sort of assertiveness that is wholly enticing. nothing too showy or obnoxious, but something. something that makes her just look so cool, even when she’s not trying. and now is one of those moments. with the way she doesn’t even struggle with holding you in place, how she’s nothing but silently humoured. the sight has a flood of lewd thoughts worming its way into your mind and you try to shake them from your head.

“yes, yes, I do,” you groan, wrist tugging from her hand when she finally releases. you twist it tenderly, pouting at her. “you’re such a dick.”

she cracks one eye open. “for taking on a challenge you initiated?”

your eye nearly twitches. “yes, exactly. now close your eyes.”

her smile remains. “mm, okay.” 

after finishing the eyeliner, your watchful gaze roves over her open eyes. her eyes are already so breathtaking as is, but the eyeliner makes them pop out even more. “good.” 

the mascara is the easiest. at least, you think it should be for her, since she applies it everyday already. but, you? you have to lean your hand along her face in order to stop it from shaking. those dark irises are zeroed in on you, latching onto your face as she keeps her gaze steady to make your task easier. the silent gesture is kind enough that you internally melt, just a bit, while the focus she’s staring at you with makes you feel like all your nerves are prickling. 

“do you like the mascara?” you ask, trying to break the awkwardness. 

lee pauses before answering. “no. it took a while before I got used to the feeling of it.” she’s not fond of it, just accustomed to it. frankly, the first few times she put it on were unbearable. she kept accidentally blinking and getting it smeared, and would struggle to strain her eyes in order to keep them wide open for its application. she sometimes poked herself in the eye, too. it made her feel a bit embarrassed back then, to struggle like that. most women had learned this kind of stuff at an earlier age, but here she was, barely able to keep her hand from trembling at twenty-two. she’s just never felt drawn to it.

she sometimes wonders where this lack of desire comes from. for so many other women her age, it’s so easy, so natural, to engage in these rituals of femininity. but, for her, it just feels foreign and uncomfortable. even now, she’s only at ease with the situation because it’ll only be you who sees her. if it was any other circumstance, she’d be unravelling at the seams.

she supposes it’s just a matter of preference, for the older she’s gotten, the more people she’s encountered like herself. it’s a comfort of sorts. but, it wasn’t always this way. as a preteen, it made her feel lonely and even more estranged from her peers, to be a girl who didn’t like what they liked. to be a girl who felt shrunk into her body when she tried on her mother’s makeup as a desperate attempt to see if she could adjust to it. 

“why do you wear it, then?”

she starts in surprise, the trail of her reminiscing breaking. “it’s what’s expected at work.”

“why?” you chuckle. “you’re an fbi agent whose job it is to get her hands dirty.”

the irony isn’t lost on lee. “I know. but, that’s just how it is. it’s, um… a small price to pay if it means I get to do my job without any comments. and I don’t mind it so much now.”

“still, it’s not fair. you should be able to wear none at work without dealing with comments or judgement.”

part of her softens at your fervent defense of her. “I know. I thought it was really unfair at first, too. but, older women in the field told me to just do it to avoid comments. so, I did.”

“how obedient of you,” you drawl out in a low, teasing voice, giggling when she flashes you an exasperated look. 

lee hates how the words make something stir between her legs. sometimes, your teasing takes on a sexual note, and she’s well-aware that you’re just trying to annoy her. but, still, she can’t help but sometimes wonder how it’d feel like to make good on what you say. maybe do something to get you quiet after making one too many innuendos.

the laughter ceases, and you continue in an earnest voice. “but, yeah, I get it. you just want to be able to do your job without hearing shit.” 

she nods, grateful you understand. as you continue, her fingers flex, for she feels like she’s under a microscope under your flickering eyes, which run along her eyeline and leave her feeling painfully aware of that part of her body. she tries not to move too much, but nervousness swells within her, so she focuses on rasping her fingers along the couch.

a few minutes later, when you get to her lips, you smile in pure mirth as you retrieve a tube of pink, glittery lipgloss. 

she glances down at it warily. when you give her a questioning state, she sighs and mutters, “you’ve already gone this far.”

you nearly squeal in glee. but, the intense joy morphs into a slow burn of tension when you cradle her chin and start applying the product. her lips are so fucking pretty, and it is so unfair. they’re already pink and naturally shining, and your mind is whirling with thoughts of how they’d feel under yours. the sound of the film becomes white noise in your mind, fading into the background as you become consumed with thoughts of nothing but her stomach against your leg, her hand so close to your knee, and the little breaths parting from those lips.

when you’re done, you shakily pull back, feeling hot to the touch.

lee eyes you carefully. you look a bit nervous, eyes darting between her eyes and lips, and exhales coming out a bit heavier. the spot your gaze seems to keep shifting to has lee’s breath stilling, fingers digging deeper into the fabric of the couch. her stomach flips the more she thinks about it. you’re so close, your leg warm on top of hers. and your hands were so gentle in handling the lip gloss over her mouth. she can’t help but wonder if you’d be that gentle in other ways, too. 

you swallow hard. perhaps this wasn’t a great idea. maybe it’s good that she’s always been someone who you were never too touchy with due to her aversion to it. because being this close to her now, her breaths close enough to tickle your skin, her lips impossibly shiny and tempting, is absolutely fucking torture. it has you wanting to throw caution to the wind, and close the gap, and potentially ruin one of the best friendships in your life.

you can’t. you shouldn’t. you just can’t.

but, then, her eyes linger on your mouth, and, probably without even realizing it, her tongue snakes out to lick at the gloss. 

fuck. maybe you can.

you raise a trembling palm to her face, cupping it and letting your thumb linger at the corner of her mouth. “you–you look good.” if she rejects you, you can at least say you’re just inspecting her face.

she hums. after a beat, she murmurs, “so do you.”

you throb at the words, biting your lip. she looks down again.

your thumb swipes the corner of her mouth, and lee freezes at the brief touch. her eyes seek out some answer in yours, anxiety whirring in her stomach of what could happen if she’s reading this wrong. and even if she isn’t, what will happen to you guys, your friendship, if something happens?

“listen, promise me you’ll forget about this if the answer is no.”

she gulps. “okay.”

“but, can I, um, kiss you?”

her reservations crack. even if you guys talk about this later, even if it turns out you want different things, she’ll still have had the chance to kiss you. she’s wanted it for so long, and if she gets it, she’ll at least be able to have the satisfaction of knowing what it’s like. even if it turns out you don’t want her in the same way, the uncertainty will be quelled, the fantasy eased. she knows it’s the unwise choice, the impulsive one, but to say no feels impossible.

“yeah.” 

your stomach lurches at the answer. you had hoped for it, ached for it, slightly suspected it, but to hear her, your friend, actually confirm it feels surreal. it feels like you’re half stuck in a daydream you had left at her door when you walked into her home this evening. the world around you seems hazy, just a bit softer at the edges.

when lee feels your leg tensing against her, she draws in a long breath, then inches in closer. “come here.” 

the soft-spoken words, a gentle command, finally shake you out of your thoughts and you find yourself powerless to her, winding your arms around her neck and pushing your lips to hers. the first thing that hits you is the sweet, strawberry taste of the gloss, the sugary flavour wrapping around the tip of your tongue as it sweeps along her bottom lip. she opens wider, and you move deeper, your tongues moulding against one another. the wet, squelching noises of the kiss have your hips flinching against her, and you can only pray she doesn’t notice.

but, it’s lee – of course she does. she tries not to smile as she feels your body shifting against hers, using the opportunity to pull you forward and onto her lap. when she feels the solid weight of you there, an instant sense of comfort wraps around her body. it’s you, her friend. even if this is new and carries its risks, it’s still you. she trusts your guys’ ability to handle this, whether it be shifting your friendship into something different, or choosing to let this go, even if the latter would tear at her more than she’d like to admit. she tries not to think of it and focus on the present moment. as difficult of a task that is for her.

because, no matter what, god, do you feel good. lee’s breath hitches in her throat when you start grinding down on her lap. she lifts her thigh up, pressing it against your crotch, satisfaction running through her when you whimper against her. she does it again, rubbing the hard muscle of it against that spot you’re clearly trying to sate some feeling in. you practically hump against her thigh, lips moving faster, and lee’s mind becomes overrun with the soft, wet noises of your mouth, and the way such an intimate spot of yours is bouncing against her thigh in such a lewd manner.

and you’re so eager, too – something that gets her mind spinning. your tongue keeps lapping at hers, and your mouth moves with a fervent pressure, as though you can’t get enough. not that she can, either. her hands are splayed along your back, gently encouraging you to continue riding her thigh, and she feels like she can do this for hours.

pleasure courses through you at the touch, and you can’t hold in the moan that flies out. you immediately press your lips back to hers, quietly moving them together, your tongues meeting to roll within the sweet opening of her mouth. you lick deeper – you’ve worn this gloss countless times, but on lee’s lips, it’s addictive.

after a few more minutes, you pull away, immediately giggling upon the sight of her pink lip gloss smeared. you rub the pad of your thumb on it. “you know, it’s kind of strange to kiss you while you’re wearing a look you usually wouldn’t be caught dead in.”

she laughs lightly, and you want to drown in the noise of it. “you got your way in putting it on me, and still, somehow find something to complain about.”

“well, you know, there’s an easy solution for that.”

she snorts gently, pulling you in closer. “yeah, I know.”

and with that, you both lose yourself to the taste of strawberries.

{header by: @anitalenia}

[daftpatience]

man rodeoh hasnt added my not so good review and now im starting to wonder if theres some suspicious reason they dont have any reviews under 4 stars

[tillman]

Uhmmmmm ok. Good night. Frowns.