#and on the flip side there are some i avoid like the plague

[nehi-soda]

Once More to See You - DBF! Joel Miller x Female Reader No Outbreak AU

Explicit; Minors DNI 18+ only.

Summary: Joel knew exactly how to drive you wild, make you forget everything but the sensation of him; make you forget he was breaking your heart.

Word count: 2.5K

Warnings: POSSIBLY DUBCON as reader has been drinking (also tagged), P in V sex, ANGST, smut, secret relationship, praise kink, dirty talk, cream pie, heartbreak, Joel is kind of a dick, dbf!joel, au!joel, no outbreak!joel. Legal age gap (reader is early 20s, and Joel is 56). No use of Y/N. Mood board for aesthetics only; reader's features aren't specified other than Joel can pick them up.

A/N: Posting this a day late as I literally only started writing it yesterday out of nowhere. Enjoy!

Joel's annual fourth of July party was in full swing. Children were running around with sparklers, families were gathered around picnic tables laden with food, and the air was filled with music. Tommy was in control of the music, so of course, AC/DC and Lynard Skynrd had been playing all day. The smell of grilling burgers and hot dogs wafted through the air, mingling with the scent of freshly mowed grass and the tang of chlorine from the pool.

You spotted Joel near the grill, expertly flipping burgers and chatting animatedly with your dad. You felt a flutter of excitement, eager to see him after your last…hangout. As you approached, he glanced your way but quickly looked away, focusing intently on the food.

"Hey, Joel," you called out, trying to sound casual despite the nervous anticipation in your voice.

"Hey," he replied, not meeting your eyes, his tone brisk. He immediately turned to your dad, asking about the game they were planning to watch tomorrow.

You hovered nearby, hoping for a chance to talk, but every time you tried to engage him, he found a way to sidestep your attempts. First, he asked another guest to grab more buns from the kitchen. Then, he excused himself to check on the drinks. Each time you approached, he either walked away or started a conversation with someone else.

Determined not to give up, you followed him to the drinks table, where he was refilling the coolers with ice and beverages. "Joel, can we talk for a minute?" you asked, keeping your voice low.

"I'm busy right now," he said curtly, not even glancing up. He continued to work, his movements tense and hurried.

Your frustration grew as the party continued. You watched him from across the yard, perched on a bench gripping your solo cup tightly as he laughed and chatted with everyone else while avoiding you like the plague. You noticed the way he stiffened whenever you were nearby, how he seemed to find any excuse to move away from you.

“Hey, loner,” your friend Kayleigh slid in next to you, nudging your side. You didn’t answer.

“Um… you…oka-.”

“Not right now, Kay,” you answer abruptly, standing up to get yourself another drink. You downed it in one to try and quell the unease sitting in your stomach. Although it just made you feel even more sick. Something was up.

The sun was beginning to set, casting a warm golden glow and someone had started setting up fireworks for later. Joel had just left the grill, heading toward the house with a tray of empty dishes. This was your chance. With a few more drinks in your system, you'd found the courage to quickly follow him, catching up as he reached the back door.

"Joel, we need to talk. Now," you said firmly, grabbing his arm to stop him.

He looked around, clearly uncomfortable, his eyes darting to make sure no one was watching. "Not here," he muttered.

You tailed him into the kitchen.

He began absent-mindedly washing up some dishes with his back to you.

"Alright, what’s going on? Why have you been ignoring me all day?" you demanded, crossing your arms over your chest trying to sound confident.

“How much have you had to drink?” He said, ignoring your question.

“Not a lot,” you retorted, heat rising up your body.

“That’s a fuckin’ lie,” he scoffed in his southern drawl.

“Oh, so I'm the bad person now, huh?” You replied a little too loudly. “I’m just some silly little girl who doesn’t know anything, running around after you, wondering when you might fuck me next!”

Joel threw a dish into the sink with a loud clatter, making you jump. He turned to face you, his eyes flashing. "You think this is easy for me?" he hissed, keeping his voice low but intense.

Before you could respond, the kitchen door swung open.

"Hey, you two!" Tommy greeted cheerfully, oblivious to the tension. "Just grabbing another drink. Everything okay in here?"

"Yeah, just fine," Joel replied dryly, turning away from you to look out at the yard.

Tommy lingered momentarily, grabbing a drink from the fridge and chatting casually about the party. “We’re settin’ the fireworks off soon,” he said smugly with a toothy grin.

“Oh, great.” You feigned excitement, trying to act normal, but your heart pounded.

The moment he was gone, Joel turned to you, his eyes fixed. "We can't do this here," he said through gritted teeth.

You took a deep breath, trying to steady your voice. "Then where? When? You can't just avoid me forever, Joel."

Joel sighed, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Fine. Upstairs. Now." Without waiting for a response, he turned and headed toward the stairs, tugging you along by your arm.

You struggled to keep up with him as his heavy boots marched up the stairs; the drink made coordinating your feet very difficult.

Joel turned to face you once you were in his all-to-familiar bedroom with the door closed behind you.

“This needs to stop,” he said sternly.

Your heart dropped at his words. "Stop what? Us?"

"Yes. Us. It’s wrong, and it’s only goin’ to end badly. For both of us." He placed his hands on his hips.

"But we make each other happy. Isn’t that enough?" You said franticly.

"It’s not that simple," his voice strained. "Your dad… if he ever found out… it would be such a mess.”

You shook your head, tears pricking at your eyes. "But he doesn’t have to find out. We’ve been so careful. Please, Joel…I love you,” you sobbed as he pulled you into his chest. He wrapped his arms around you tightly as your fingers twisted in his plaid shirt. The warmth radiating from his body seeped into your bones like a cruel comfort.

"Shhh, I know, baby, it’s okay." Joel hushed, stroking your hair. “It's just so complicated.”

“I don’t care” you pulled back, searching his eyes for any sign that he might change his mind. But all you saw was resignation.

"Please," you whispered, your voice breaking. "Don't do this."

He cupped your face in his hands. “You deserve better than this. Better than sneakin’ around and hidin’. You deserve someone who can give you everything.”

"But I don't want anyone else," you cried, tears streaming down your face. God, you probably looked like a blabbering mess. "I want you."

Joel closed his eyes, pain etched into his features. "And I want you, too. More than you know. But this... it ain't right, darlin’,” and there is was; his velvet drawl reeling you in again. He pressed a lingering kiss to your forehead, and something inside you snapped. The finality of his touch felt like a betrayal. You shoved him back with all your strength, your hands shaking with anger and hurt.

"Don't you dare!" You shouted, your voice trembling with rage. "Don't you fucking dare tell me what's right for me. You don't get to decide that."

Joel just stood there and took it.

“I wish I never fucking met you,” you muttered.

You pushed him again, harder this time. "I wish I never fucking met you!” You repeated.

Joel's expression hardened, and in an instant, he grabbed your arms, backing you up against the wall with a force that knocked the breath out of you. Your eyes were wide as his burned into you, and for a moment, you were actually scared of him. But before you could protest, he was unbuckling his belt and unzipping his jeans. He roughly hiked up your sundress and lifted you up by the backs of your thighs.

"This is what you want?" Joel growled, his voice low and intense. "One last time, huh?"

"Joel, please...", you gasped.

Your heart raced as his lips sloppily crashed against yours. It was intoxicating; you could smell his cologne and the beer on his breath as you wrapped yourself around him, pulling him closer, needing to feel him, to lose yourself in him. One last time.

The room spun around you, the noise from the party outside fading into oblivion as he slipped your panties to the side and entered you all at once. You took a sharp breath at the sudden stretch you were unprepared for. His movements were driven by a desperate need, forcing himself into you with a mixture of pain and pleasure as you clung to him like your life depended on it. The boom of fireworks outside was the only momentary glitter of light as he dug his fingers into the soft flesh of your thighs and ass; you’d hoped to find bruises there in the morning. A flash of red, then white, then blue lit up the right side of his face."You drive me fuckin’ crazy," he leaned in to mutter against your neck, his breath hot and ragged. "I can't stop thinkin’ ‘bout you."

"Th-then… d-don't," you struggled to get your words out as he knocked the air out of you. “J-just b-be with me..."

“Aaah, fuck, who’s got good pussy baby?” Joel growled, his voice low and rough.

"I... I do," you gasped, barely able to breathe as he thrust brutally against your cervix, each movement sending shockwaves through your body.

"Say it again," he demanded, his pace relentless. "Say it again, baby. I need to hear it."

"I do! " You screamed, the words tumbling out between ragged breaths. "I-I’ve got good pussy, Joel. It’s all y-yours!”

"Dirty fuckin’ girl,” he spat. "Screwing your daddy's best friend." He whispered, raw and guttural, sending shivers through you. You could see the intensity in his eyes, his primal need for you. You started to be able to take him more easily as you became wet with arousal. You arched your back, meeting his thrusts with equal fervour, every part of you alight with pleasure. Joel’s hands gripped you tighter, holding you in place as he pounded into you."Ugh…yes, Joel,” you moaned, nails clawing at his salt-and-pepper locks to pull his lips to yours. “l love it w-when you f-fuck me.”

“Hmm, always feel so good, baby,” he pants, as his cock relentlessly slides in and out of your puffy lips. Each thrust hit that sweet spot deep within you, making your eyes roll to the back of your head. Joel knew exactly how to drive you wild, make you forget everything but the sensation of him; make you forget he was breaking your heart.

“That’s it, baby, it’s okay, just cum for me, cum all over this cock.”

Your body trembled as you cried out his name, your pleasure shattering through you in waves. You closed your eyes tight, feeling yourself gripping every inch of him as you dug your fingers into his shoulders. Joel held you through it, his strong arms keeping you secured against him and the wall as you came apart.

He followed soon after, his release a powerful, shuddering thing that left him collapsing onto you. He emptied every last bit of him into you with a growl.  You pushed his hair back from his sweaty forehead before he buried his face into the crook of your neck, panting for breath. He pulled out of you with a groan, releasing your legs and letting your feet find the ground again. You shuffled awkwardly, rearranging your underwear and smoothing out your dress. Joel looked away, avoiding your eyes as he did his jeans and belt back up. The silence between you was thick and heavy.

"Is this really it, then?" you asked quietly, your voice trembling as you struggled to keep your composure.

Joel sighed deeply, his shoulders slumping. "It has to be. We can't keep doin’ this."

You felt a surge of anger rise in your chest. "So that's it? You just use me one last time and then throw me away?"

He finally met your gaze. "It’s not like that. I never wanted it to end this way.”

You shook your head, tears streaming down your face.

"But we can’t keep playin’ childish fuckin’ games, and you’re too naive to see the damage this could cause.”

"Don’t you dare put this all on me," you snapped, your voice rising. "You’re the one who started this.”

Joel took a step back. "I'm sorry. I never meant to hurt you, but I can’t see you again,” he said coldly.

You turned away, your heart shattering with every word he said. You couldn’t bear to look at him any longer. "Fuck you, Joel,” you spat, storming toward the door. You yanked it open and stepped into the hallway.

Downstairs, the sounds of the party continued but it all sounded like you were underwater.

You moved quickly to the front door and stepped out into the night, the cool air hitting your tear-streaked face. You hugged your arms and walked quickly. The air smelt like sulphur as fireworks illuminated the sky. You didn’t stop until you reached home.

The house was eerily quiet. Too quiet.

Your heart felt like it was being crushed in a vise, each breath harder to draw than the last. You could barely see through the blur of tears as you climbed the stairs, having to use your hands to steady yourself.

You reached your room and slammed the door shut, leaning against it for support. Your legs trembled, and you slid down until you was sitting on the floor, knees pulled up to your chest. You clenched your fists, trying to push down the sobs, threatening to break free. You had known the risks, known how wrong it was, but you hadn't been able to help yourself.

Fucking your dad’s best friend, what did you expect; thought you’d live happily ever after with a white picket fence?

Maybe Joel was right. Maybe you were too naïve. You were fucking crazy to think this could have ended any other way.

But no one made you feel like Joel did. No one felt like Joel did. It was electric. The way he touched you, the way he made you feel alive, cherished, and understood, no one had ever come close. Joel was everything you had ever wanted and more. But now, it was all over.

A soft knock on your door. "Sweetie, can we talk?" Your dad’s voice was gentle, but you couldn't face him.

"Go away," you choked out, your voice barely more than a whisper.

“Wondered where you were. You’re missing the fireworks, honey.”

"Please, just leave me alone."

“Hm, Joel did say you weren't feelin’ well, had too much to drink?”

How so desperately you wanted to tell your dad everything just to relieve some of the weight off of your shoulders, but how could you? How could you tell him, oh, by the way, I've been fucking your best friend behind your back for months, buts he’s just ended things and torn my heart into a million pieces? I know exactly just how many kisses fit between his eyes? I know the face he makes when he cums, and I think I can actually feel his cum leaking out of me right now?

divider credit to @kthice

*title inspired by "Once More to See You" by Mitski

[awandapologist]

Kiss It Better

warnings: mentions of a black eye, minor injuries, a tiny bit suggestive, but mainly just some fluff :)

nika x uconn!reader

You had been working on assignments all day; your fingers were cramping up from typing notes and you were exhausted. Midterms were coming up for spring semester and with it, the NCAA women's basketball tournament. But even with all the chaos on campus and in your personal life keeping you busy, your mind still wandered to a certain 5'10 brunette.

You had met Nika Mühl at a party your friend dragged you to at the end of the previous semester. You bumped into the taller girl while trying to get a drink, desperately needing something to relieve your bubbling anxiety from the social event. When her big brown eyes met yours, you swear your stomach flipped. You immediately noticed the small smile playing on her full, pink lips and had to forcefully pull your eyes away from them.

After a night of talking and getting to know Nika, you were practically smitten. The way she maintained undivided eye contact with you throughout your conversation, and how passionately she talked about her love for her sport completely charmed you. You knew she was a special person, and one you definitely wanted to see again, which is why you had to hold back a huge grin when she asked you for your phone number at the end of the night.

Since that night a few months ago, you and Nika had become close friends. Close, yes.... but not exactly in the way you wanted. Your romantic feelings for Nika had only grown with time, falling more and more for the Croatian everyday. You wondered what her lips would feel like on yours and what it would be like to hold her hand as you walked around campus. You swore that sometimes you thought she felt the same, but you were too nervous to make the first move, worried about tarnishing the friendship you shared.

Before you could torture yourself any further, a loud and very persistent knock on your door pulled you out of your stressful thoughts.

"What the hell-" you muttered. "One second!" you yelled, quickly leaving your bedroom as you wondered who could be banging on your door at this time of night. In hindsight, you should have known who it was by the insistent knocks that wouldn't let up.

As if by magic, the same girl plaguing your thoughts was standing on the other side of the door- except she was sporting a big black eye.

"Nika, what the hell??" you exclaimed, as you pulled the taller girl in by her arm. You quickly took her face in your hands, examining the injured area surrounding her eye. She looked down at her feet, avoiding your intent gaze.

"Are you okay? How did this happen?" you asked, concerned for your friend. You knew Nika was tough and could sustain a lot on the court, but this looked like it hurt. Badly.

When her eyes met yours, you saw so much emotion swimming in them.

"It was an accident at practice. Coach said I can still play in the upcoming game, but I'm just so pissed at myself for letting it happen."

Her large hands left her side to place on your waist. You tried to push down the damn immediate butterflies you felt at the simple action.

"I didn't even go to the trainer- I came straight here. I'm gonna get so much shit from coach tomorrow, but I don't care." Your breath hitched in your throat at the confession, but annoyance also rose at the girl's carelessness.

"Just wanted to see you," she said quietly, her lips forming the cutest unconscious pout.

"Nika!" you swatted her arm, immediately taking her by the hand to lead her to the bathroom. You rummaged through your medicine cabinet, immediately cleaning the wound on Nika's face before grabbing some ice.

The Croatian towered over you, wincing a little as you applied pressure on the freshly formed black and blue. "So..." you began. "Are you going to tell me more about how this actually happened?" you gently inquired.

Nika's brown eyes met yours again. "I was.... distracted, I guess. Paige ended up completely elbowing me in the face," she laughed meekly.

"Distracted? During basketball?" you asked, brow quirking up. "That doesn't sound like you at all," you said. You knew how passionate Nika got during practices- always giving her best effort no matter the time or place.

"Got a lot on my mind lately I guess" she said under her breath. Her eyes darted down to your lips discreetly and back up to your eyes.

The close proximity and the way Nika was staring you down began to make you nervous, and Nika could tell. You cleared your throat before you began speaking again,

"Oh? Like what kinda stuff?" you asked, now avoiding the other girl's line of sight. You pretended to seem disinterested and unsurprised, but Nika wasn't buying what you were selling. She knew you better than you knew yourself.

With a small smile, she removed your hand that was holding the bag of ice from her face, placing it on the bathroom counter. Her now free hand grabbed your waist, pulling you closer into her, while the other brushed a fallen piece of hair to rest behind your ear.

"Well, you see..." she started. "There's this one girl that has just not left my mind. No matter how hard I try, I just keep thinking about her." Her hand began to rub small circles on your hip, soothing both herself and you. "So much so that I got a black eye for it," she said. That same small smile you loved so much adorning her plush lips.

You felt like your heart could burst at her words and the way she was holding you. The realization that your friend felt the same was still sinking in, but Nika was done waiting.

"So... think you can kiss it better for me?" she said with a smirk, cupping your jaw before finally bringing her lips to yours.

[leahsgirl]

casual | alessia russo x female reader

was it casual when it turned into more than a one time thing?

this has been in my drafts since july and i’ve only just got round to finishing it. if youse have any requests let me know!

_

you’re trying (and failing) to listen to leah’s tactical breakdowns in the locker room when alessia scurries in, late again. that was her thing these days, along with avoiding you like the plague while at training.

no matter what you did to try and interact with the blonde she’d always have an excuse to get out of the situation. you tried to not let it get to you, but when you go from not speaking to her laying in your bed every week - it’s bound to have its effect.

you look at the striker whose now sat on the opposite end of the room next to lotte and you scoff, annoyed at how a single night two months ago can cause such a rift between you both.

you was at a club, a local one you and your teammates regularly visited when there was something to celebrate - the occasion this time being arsenal winning the conti-cup.

katie and kyra had gone up to the bar to get some drinks while you and the rest of the group found somewhere to sit.

you remember wedging yourself next to beth at the end of the booth, leaning back against the leather as you listened in on the girls conversations. it wasn’t long before the irish and aussie duo came back with a handful of drinks and everyone raised their glasses “to arsenal, and stina for the winning goal!”

the alcohol kept coming and the music was only getting louder, you were sipping at your cocktail that you didn’t bother finding out what it consisted of when there was a dip in the seat. you looked to your side to see alessia, her hair was messy and her cheeks were a dark shade of pink - something that always happened when she got a little tipsy.

“come dance me with meee.” she leant forward so her face was practically inches from yours. you just laughed, “mccabe not a good dancing partner?”

alessia shook her head “i’m third wheeling her and caitlin.” she pointed to the pair on the dance floor who seemed to be in their own world.

you sighed “lead the way russo.” you wasn’t the biggest fan of dancing but you weren’t particularly bad at it either. either way, seeing alessia’s smile when you agree is always worth it.

the dance floor was packed and it was hard to move without accidentally catching someone’s arm or torso. alessia moved with ease next to you, singing along to the music. “show me your moves y/n” she leant in and spoke down your ear. her breath was hot and was enough to send your stomach flipping.

the pair of you danced to the beat, lessi’s arms wrapping around your waist. it wasn’t unusual for youse to be touchy-feely like this - it was a normal occurrence in your relationship, hence why you don’t take much notice when she moves her hands lower, stopping at the small of your back.

“i need some air.” the blonde pointed to the door and grabbed your arm, leading you through the sea of people and out into the cold london weather.

“you okay less?” you ask concerned to the girl who is now leaning against the brick wall. she nods her head and it’s silent for a moment.

you’re about to say something when she speaks up first. “your ex girlfriend,” she says, her voice low. “i never liked her y’know.”

you raise an eyebrow, clearly amused and a little caught off guard. “i know you didn’t,” you reply softly, a smirk playing at your lips. “you weren’t exactly discreet about it.”

alessia looks at you then, her gaze more intense than usual “i’m better than her.” she says suddenly and you’re now confused.

before you can even respond, her hand reaches out and gently cups the back of your neck, she pulls you in and suddenly her lips are on yours.

you’re momentarily stunned, because what the fuck. alessia is kissing you, your best friend, your straight best friend for that matter. it’s enough to make your head spin.

almost instinctively you kiss back, your hand finding her waist as she kisses with more urgency. she’s the one to pull back and you take the opportunity to catch your breath. “your place?” she whispers so only you can hear, aware more people have come outside for a cigarette.

the rational part of you is screaming no, not to give in to her, it’s only going to bite you in the ass. but there’s also that one voice, the one that reminds you that you’ve been hopelessly crushing on the striker since being on the england youth team, the one that tells you she must want you too if she’s asking such thing.

you’re too intoxicated to listen to your moral conscience and so you nod your head and soon enough your in the back of a taxi going back to your apartment.

and that’s how the cycle started. she’d come knocking at your door, most of the times the scent of liquor clinging to her, you’d go to the bedroom and discard clothes, she’d whisper sweet nothings into your ear and kiss down your body like you’re fragile, as if each touch may break you, but much enough tenderness to make you ache for more.

then by morning she’d be gone.

no explanation, no trace that she was physically there a few hours before. almost like she couldn’t wait to get out.

it’s even worse when your at home aimlessly scrolling through your socials and you see clips of her being posted with her holding a drink in hand while sitting on a random guy’s lap whispering down his ear, or when she’s getting too close for comfort with a stranger in the dance floor. you’d always end up throwing your phone down next to you out of frustration, willing at the knots that formed in your stomach to just go away.

it wasn’t until around the fourth time you tried to talk to her about it but it didn’t work. she’d have an excuse or say ‘can we talk about it later?’ when in fact ‘later’ never came.

you’d be lying if you said you wasn’t hurting from the whole thing, alessia was your closest friend, clinging to each other like you was fused at the hip and now you hardly get a nod off the girl.

leah concluded her speech and you got up off the bench, starting to make your way to the pitch for warm up drills.

you’re split into two groups and you’re running with the ball. everything feels normal until you catch a glimpse of blonde hair charging towards you, and before you can react alessia slides in hard. her boot colliding with your leg instead of the ball and pain shoots through your ankle, sending you sprawling on the ground.

“what the hell, less?!” you snap, taking laia’s hand to help you up, the anger bubbling to the surface.

for a moment you catch a slip in emotion from her, a slight furrow in her eyebrow before she’s back to hardly giving you the time of day “it was a clean tackle” she shrugged and ran back to her original position.

“russo, what was that about?!” jonas called from his position on the sideline not looking too pleased. alessia held her hands up in defence “went in too early my mistake.”

the swede shook his head, “be more careful, we don’t want more injuries.”

“what’s goin’ on with you two?” katie asked, appearing out of no where. you waved your hand in dismissal “god knows.”

the older woman looked between you both and hummed, not looking convinced. you can’t even blame her.

it wasn’t until everyone was getting into their retrospective cars about to head home that you was able to take your opportunity.

“alessia.” you hold up your hand for her to wait “can we talk?”

seeing that she didn’t really have any escape route other than to run you over (you’re glad she hadn’t gone that crazy yet) she sighed and leant an arm over her car door as she waited for you to get closer. “what’s up?”

“what’s up?” you mocked in disbelief. “what’s up is that you kiss me, come back to mine for sex” her eyes widened as you ranted, nervously turning her head in all directions to make sure no one was listening. “-make it into more than a one time thing, then ignore me like i don’t exist as well as nearly taking out my ankle.” you point to your foot where there is evident bruising and a small scrape. “it’s confusing.” you confess.

“it was a drunken mistake, i don’t get what’s confusing.”

you’re contemplating if she’s being for real right now because there’s no way she’s believing the words coming out her own mouth. “drunken mistake to the point it’s happened over ten times now?” you scoff at her comment. “listen alessia, i can’t keep doing this. it’s messing with my head, while it may be a drunken mistake to you each time, it actually means something to me and it’s clearly impacting us at work as well.” you feel a crack in the back of your throat and you’re annoyed at yourself for getting this emotional right now. “just figure out what you want before we both get hurt.”

you didn’t bother saying bye, you just turned back around and got into your own vehicle hoping she’d actually listen to you and take your advice.

_

it had been two weeks. well, two weeks and four days to be exact since yours and alessia’s carpark talk, and there had been absolutely no effort off the blonde to communicate with you. you stopped sort of hoping after a week, seeing how she was still giving you the cold shoulder.

one thing that did change though; she no longer rocked up to your place for a late night booty call.

you was at home, letting the warm water cascade over your body and giving you a temporary moment of relaxation. you was just so annoyed with yourself, if you never gave into her a couple of months ago all of this could of been avoided.

tilting your head back, you lathered the shampoo into your hair working through the knots and tangles. it’s fine you told yourself, if alessia’s decided she doesn’t want anything to do with you - you should move on too.

you hear a knock, only a quiet one but enough to kind of freak you out. this is why you hated showering when living alone - always a crippling fear someone’s out to murder you while you’re butt-naked.

maybe it’s just you hearing things, the insane heat and steam in the bathroom making you a little lightheaded. either way, you reasoned with yourself you should probably check it out and wrapped a towel around your body.

there was another knock so you know you’re not going crazy this time as you make it to the hallway. after a few twist and turns of your keys you opened the door ajar slightly.

“alessia?” the blonde was stood on the opposite side of the door sporting mismatched sweats, sunglasses and her hair that looked like its not been brushed in days.

“can i come in?” she sounded weak and your shoulders slumped involuntarily.

you opened the door just enough so she could squeeze in then closed it behind her. you saw how her eyes trailed down your body, a tiny smirk emerging. “nice outfit.”

for a second you forgot you was only in a towel and felt the blood rush up to your cheeks. “i was in the middle of showering.” you subconsciously crossed your arms across your chest. “what is it you want alessia? why are you here?”

the striker shifted her focus to her hands, fiddling with the rings and walked ahead of you so she was standing between your bedroom and living room.

“i’ve been thinking about what you said.” she turned around so she was facing you and moved the sunglasses so they was resting on her head instead. wait, had she been crying? “i’m sorry for being so awful to you.”

you let her continue, “i just- i’ve got all these feelings, feeling about you. and it’s scary y/n. i don’t know what to do with them, like i thought i was straight a few months back!” she said incredulously.

“and now?” you asked gently. you could see this was working her up.

“i don’t know.” she ran her hands through her hair. “i just like you and it terrifies me because i’ve already hurt you enough and most likely ruined our friendship.”

you placed your hand on her arm for comfort “you’ve not ruined our friendship less.” consoling the girl who now had tears welling.

“y/n i’ve been a dick to you.” she deadpanned and you couldn’t exactly disagree because she had been pretty rude.

“at least i know why now though. you’re confused i get it.”

alessia still couldn’t meet your gaze “i care about you, y/n. so much. but i don’t think i can keep pretending im ready for something i don’t understand. i thought maybe i could figure it out, but i don’t think im there yet.”

you stood there in silence for a moment, the reality of the situation sinking in. she wasn’t going to stay. she wasn’t going to fight for whatever it was youse had going on. and no matter how much you wanted her to, she wasn’t going to.

“okay.” you finally said, “if that’s what you believe.”

alessia let out a shaky breath, looking up at you “i’m sorry.”

without another word, alessia stepped forward, her hands gently cupping your face as she kissed you. her lips lingered on yours, soft and hesitant, like she didn’t want to let go but knew she had to.

you kissed her back, your hands resting lightly on her waist, feeling the weight of everything unsaid between you. when she finally pulled away, her forehead rested against yours, both of you breathing heavily.

“i’m sorry,” alessia whispered, her voice trembling. “i wish i could be what you need right now.”

you closed your eyes, ignoring the aching your chest was doing right now as you whispered back, "me too."

she pulled away completely then, taking a step back, her hands falling to her sides. for a brief moment, she hesitated, looking at you one last time before turning and walking toward the door.

as the door closed softly behind her, you stood there, feeling the sting of her absence, knowing that waiting for her wasn’t something you could do—not anymore.

the kiss had been a goodbye, even if neither of you had the heart to say the words out loud.

[blueteller]

I found this on reddit it's not my opinion but it's kind of funny and disconcerting.

What do you think?

( https://www.reddit.com/r/CharacterRant/s/uwKw63Cgoc )

"A rant on Trash of the Count’s Family

Alright before I begin I would like to preface by saying that I am a long time reader of the novel and love this novel to death. It kept me company during my darkest and lowest points of my life and I am forever grateful for it !

The rant also in no way affects the brilliance of the story. With that out of the way here it goes:

This is an amazing fantasy novel filled with great visuals, writing, story and top-notch characters. However it has TWO big problems that broke the story smooth sailing for me and I need to rant about it because where I am from I am pretty sure no one reads TCF in a 6000 mile radius.

One big problem was the romance. THERE IS ABSOLUTELY NONE OF IT. This is not a problem if the main character doesn’t want romance (he doesn’t nope) but NONE of the main/side characters that has been introduced so far also want nothing to do with romance. It was a little awkward to read the story based in medieval setting where characters are as pure as angels as they come.

Now, you can of course raise the point that romance was never the main focus of this novel (it’s not even a background focus or some D plot) but let’s analyse this novel here for a second okay? This novel is very gore and never ever shy away from very dark themes or stories.

- The main protagonist of the story (sorry forgot his name it’s been a long time) has his entire village with whom he has spent 20 years murdered and burned to ashes, all the men women and children are totally dead.

- The Prince story is also pretty dark and deals with some adult themes about race and identity.

- The dragon raon (is that the name?) backstory is…holy shit some hardcore torture and let’s not forget the revenge torture that happened later with raon eating steak.

- The butler and his butcher son

- The absolute crazy HUMAN EXPERIMENT arc that was happening in the Empire. I mean holy shit they really went into crazy detail about body mutilation and the scientists are absolute psychopaths in how they love their job.

And I am just scratching the surface about how dark this novel is and there’s plenty of it. The point is that it is very adult oriented novel with these stories but on the flip side their romance department is so negligible that even Tom and Jerry had more romance than this.

It actively avoids it like a plague. Why is this an issue? Let me explain.

Simple answer it feels a little jarring or disorienting when you read the novel like going back and forth between watching the looney tunes movie and switching immediately back to a Black Mirror episode.

But I have to give where credit is due. I didn’t notice the romance problem until after some 500+ chapters later (that’s how good the novel story is ) and how did I notice it?

After some battle trying to reclaim the south (north?) tower and this is the part where the Empire’s royalty is on the brink of collapse the redhead girl (I also forgot her name but she is part of the main gang) is extremely tired after a long battle and Cale tries to help her by giving her some healing potions (remember at this point she is the only female character that understands Cale the most and their relationship is the most developed of all) but she says she is so tired she can’t even lift her arms, so Cale (as logic would have it) offers to feed her the potion himself (see completely logical under the circumstances) but Raon the dragon out of nowhere says, “You are too weak Cale! Let me do it”. And I am like…say what? We know the main gang always comments that Cale is weak and all but come on guys we know he isn’t and in fact he’s been through crazy shit. During that battle he never had to fight and was in top condition so that remark from raon made even more less sense.

And then the redhead laughed it off and said “it’s okay I will do it myself” and she does…after a bit of struggle to lift the said bottle.

It’s a small thing but it did break my immersion (it was already broken before, I will explain later). It forced me as a reader to actually “think” about the author intentions something that should never happen when reading a fantasy novel. And it made me go “hmm wait a minute” and then I reflected back on all the 500+ chapters I have read and I came to a realisation that…forget main character romance there is hardly any romance of any proportions from any and every character in this whole novel! It was so impossibly impossible that it teared through the immersion completely.

The second reason for this rant and this is connected to when my immersion showed a small crack. And this reason is purely a preference thing so feel free to ignore this as you want.

I personally believe that when you make a “reborn in a fantasy world” story you absolutely must never collide “our” world with the fantasy world.

Don’t do that.

From page 1 you are setting up this fantasy life, fantasy way of living and thinking, fantasy people, fantasy stories and most importantly a fantasy you. Don’t break this immersion by literally making the world he (Cale) came from an integral part of the story.

When the main protagonist found out who Cale really is and confronted him about it by listing some Korean food items I was a little disappointed because it felt like a parent telling a child that role playing as a prince and over now put the castle made of pillows back in place and do your homework for school tomorrow.

Maybe it’s just a me thing but after that confrontation, every time Cale interacted with anyone be it the redhead, his dragon, butler or anyone it all felt so plastic and fake, like I was overly conscious of the fact that this is a fantasy land filled with fantasy people and well…it made me feel a little lonely."

Wow, this is quite interesting! Thanks for sending me this. Not because I agree – anyone who knows anything about my opinions on TCF would know that the very 2 points that the author of this post has "problems with" are the things that I embrace with great enthusiasm.

So, prepare for a long ride!

First of all, let me make this absolutely clear, the same way this person did at the beginning of their own post; they are allowed to have their own opinion on what they like or dislike. The same way I am allowed to like or dislike certain elements of stories. I don't claim that TCF is a flawless work either – it's just that all the flaws it does have, at least to me, are so minor I don't care about them in the slightest.

I might actually be "brave enough" in the future to actually make my own post about the "flaws" of the story for me, no matter how few. But not today. Today, let's focus on the reddit post.

Now, imagine a person (the author of this post) is given an apple pie in a restaurant.

This person very much enjoys apple pies. They continue to visit the same restaurant and keep ordering this apple pie. But after a while, they discover "two big problems" with the apple pie.

First of all, it does not contain cinnamon. So this person is like – why not! That is, they did not notice before, but it is SO jarring to them now that they know! Because they believe all apple pies should contain cinnamon. Secondly, this apple pie is made out of a species of apples they do not like. In fact, they are convinced this apple species is not fit for apple pies! So, they quit ordering apple pies at this restaurant.

Meanwhile, there's a second regular customer (me) who orders the apple pie at this restaurant. This customer, in fact, is kind of sick of cinnamon. They were so happy they discovered a restaurant that doesn't use it! This person also notices this apple pie has a very interesting texture to it, one they very much enjoy, because of the specific apple species this restaurant uses. It quickly became their all-time favorite dessert.

Obviously, neither customer here is wrong. "The customer is always right in matters of taste" is a saying for a reason (although people usually say only the first half of it, forgetting the second part), and just because I love the "apple pie" in question, I am not going to shame the other person for their own taste.

With all that said, please allow me to address to the post properly, step by step.

First, when addressing the lack of romance as a problem, this is this person's argument: they list major dark moments in the story, like Choi Han's village getting massacred, dark race racism, Raon's torture et cetera. Then they say, "The point is that it is very adult oriented novel with these stories but on the flip side their romance department is so negligible that even Tom and Jerry had more romance than this".

Correct me if I'm wrong, but I don't believe… Tom and Jerry had any romance either. That cartoon did not even have dialogue. So like, huh??? What kind of argument is that? Should I say that Tom and Jerry has a critical flaw that is has no talking despite being all about comedy? That it would have been better if it was dubbed or something? Well, there was that one movie I remember from childhood but – never mind, we're getting off track here. This argument kind of, completely falls flat for me.

I get the implication. "TCF is has so many dark themes, it should be mature enough to contain romance as well". Which is, completely off the mark for me, personally. Maturity and romance have NOTHING to do with each other.

There's also the statement that "It actively avoids [romance] like a plague." And I agree, kind of. This story avoids romance on purpose. But It never felt unnatural for me. I was kind of expecting it to pop up eventually, back when I first started reading. I thought for SURE Rosalyn would be somebody's love interest – because she had to be, right?? But it gradually dawned on me that there are so many cool, pretty, strong, independent female characters… And none of them are representing a specific fetish or exist solely to be somebody's wifu. The women are PEOPLE, they are fleshed-out, complex characters who have goals and ambitions and just like for the men, there is no thought about romance here because there is so much going on – most of it world-ending, in fact – that focusing in romance would actually DECREASE the maturity of the story instead of enhancing it.

The author of the post said, "It was so impossibly impossible that it teared through the immersion completely". What, do you need characters getting laid to be truly realistic mature adults or something? I think you have the wrong idea about adulthood… Let me say it again, those people are too busy in this story to focus on dating. Even if Cale himself wasn't so obviously ace, his life has been so crazy since he transmigrated, I have no idea HOW on earth he could have found the time (or anyone else for that matter: just look at poor Alberu, swimming in paperwork 24/7!). He can't even sleep for more than 4 hours per day during the war arc. What I personally would find jarring is exactly this: characters trying to freaking date or play off romantic subplots while the world was LITERALLY GETTING DESTROYED. That would have been so petty and ridiculous.

So, the expectation that there HAS to be romance, just because… I think it is a faulty expectation to have in the first place. And it is NOT unnatural that the characters don't do romance (especially with how many species there are among the cast and the age gaps between them, it would have been awkward to say the least; unless you're the type to like Twilight style of romance). The story put a lot of focus to forge familial bonds between the characters. It doesn't lack in the relationship department, just non-platonic one. And if this is a problem for someone and they find it jarring, well… Again, no cinnamon in apple pie, I guess.

Next, we have the argument that "when you read the novel like going back and forth between watching the looney tunes movie and switching immediately back to a Black Mirror episode". I don't know Black Mirror, but I get it. The author of the post claims that the comedic character interactions – the ones that had been very well established in the first 200 chapters of the story, covering full 2 years in the timeline – are… what, unrealistic? Inaccurate? Cartoonish? I’m not 100% sure what the exact issue is here.

They quote a scene where I assume Rosalyn is too tired to lift her arms and Cale offers to help and Raon says he's too weak and let him do it instead. The author of the post then acts confused, as if it was completely unreasonable, because Cale is not weak. Um…. I don't know if they were not paying attention, but that's just false. Cale is PHYSICALLY weak, despite all his Ancient Powers. That is exactly the whole reason why he keeps coughing blood and fainting and stuff. So it was funny, and in-character, and fitting with the rest of the story – at least in my opinion. If that broke this person's immersion, then fine I guess, but I really don't see the reason. I guess they don't enjoy the "texture" of this "apple pie".

Speaking of texture, the last point pf the post I want to address: the belief that you should not mix "real world" and fantasy. They say, "I personally believe that when you make a "reborn in a fantasy world" story you absolutely must never collide "our" world with the fantasy world. Don't do that". Excuse me, but uh… why? That is not the case at all, for many stories? I mean, you could approach it that way, nothing wrong with keeping it separate. But most classic isekai examples usually stray from that idea, actually. Are you familiar with Chronicles of Narnia, by any chance? Did you know that the magical lamppost that Lucy found in the woods actually came from England? It was a very fun bit of backstory from the Magician's Nephew.

"Don't break this immersion by literally making the world he (Cale) came from an integral part of the story." Why not, man??? It was so brilliantly done! In fact, it was so freaking cool, the way TCF did it! What, is "our world" so boring and terrible you must keep it separate from the fantasy at any cost? It was plot relevant, it gave Cale legit ties to the new world, it fleshed out his character, it was incredible! 10/10! If TCF lost that element, it would have been a great loss.

And even if you don't like the mixing of "fantasy and reality" as something "immersion breaking"… there is one problem with this kind of argument, in TCF at least.

Kim Rok Soo is NOT FROM OUR REALITY.

Let me repeat: the man is not from regular, modern Korea! HE IS FROM A FANTASY MONSTER APOCALYPSE DIMENSION!

The whole reveal of what kind of place KRS comes from is what make this story so good to me. It was an incredible twist. The "regular, normal man from modern world" was a red herring meant to hide the fact that he was an ability user from what is basically a superhero world full of monsters! It is not! Regular! Modern! World!!!

"When the main protagonist found out who Cale really is and confronted him about it by listing some Korean food items I was a little disappointed because it felt like a parent telling a child that role playing as a prince and over now put the castle made of pillows back in place and do your homework for school tomorrow." That… you really, REALLY missed the point here, man. That was not the vibe of the scene at all! Choi Han and Cale are both essentially war veterans, mentioning foods from their childhood! This the "Frodo and Sam talking about the flavor of strawberries from Shire at the foot of Mount Doom" from Lord of the Rings type of moment! Only, well, a bit more comedic. Still, it was so touching!! But, well… again, you don't like the taste of the pie, there is nothing I can do about it.

And lastly, there was this paragraph at the end of the post:

"Maybe it's just a me thing but after that confrontation, every time Cale interacted with anyone be it the redhead, his dragon, butler or anyone it all felt so plastic and fake, like I was overly conscious of the fact that this is a fantasy land filled with fantasy people and well… it made me feel a little lonely."

I never noticed such a thing. I do not know if more people felt that way. But I always thought that the characters were well-established and their behavior natural. I am sorry that the immersion break made the author of the post lonely. I hope they can spend time with their friends and feel a little better. Fantasy shouldn't just be a tool to "fill an empty void in your life and escape terrible reality". For me, stories are meant to create something beautiful, to inspire, and to make one consider the possibilities of reality. I mean, if Cale can stop world-ending threats by being brave and making good strategies, why can't I handle the minor problems that reality has to offer? It's all a matter of perspective.

So, that is it. That's my whole response. I hope it satisfies you! Have a great day!

[merbear25]

Vash with no.4 for your valentine day event would be MWAH CHEFS KISS!!!!

This prompt was perfect for him!! I really hope you like it! I adore him... He deserves nothing but good things! (I'm not about to cry YOU are)

No matter where he went or who he met, his greatest fear hit him head on without fail. Undeserving of moving past his mistakes, forcing himself to make up for what he’d done time and time again, but it was never enough, neither for them nor him. How could he accept your affection when he saw the lowest of the low in his reflection? It all starts with trust.

CW: SFW, gn!reader, hurt/comfort, Vash’s insecurities

Take my hand (Vash)

Despite the walls he threw up to protect you from getting too close to him, caring about him came as easily as opening your eyes, and each time you did you couldn’t deny the warmth that accompanied the sight of him. A gleeful smile, outgoing demeanor, a goofiness that didn’t always fit the circumstances: he tried so hard to keep the grief from showing.

However, the more time you spent together, the more those cracks showed. Sitting in the corner of the room, not saying anything, yet his silence was screaming for the connection he deemed himself unworthy of.

“Vash? How are you doing?” Not wanting to bring up the incident directly, you thought it would be more gentle to avoid specifics. Both of you knew what you were referencing anyway: a town flipping their opinion of him quickly and without remorse for the man who had just helped them moments before.

“I’m great.” He couldn’t even fake the chipper tone.

“Sorry, it was a silly question.” You paused to consider what he must be going through. Having been rejected by damn near everyone who had at one point opened their arms to welcome him must wear one’s spirit down to the point it dragged through the dirt.

“You don’t have to apologize, you didn’t do anything wrong.” The tone was soft and remorseful for making you think you had to say ‘sorry’. “I’ll be okay, I just need some time alone.”

The thought of him being by himself at a time like this made you worry. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to stay with you. We don’t have to talk if you don’t want to. I’d just like to make sure you’re… That everything is alright.”

No objection was given, although that didn’t mean his mind wasn’t racing. After what felt like hours, he finally brought up what was plaguing him. “I hope you don’t feel obligated to stick around.”

“Why would I feel… I’m here because I care about you.”

A rush of emotions flooded his chest as he processed that last bit. “You shouldn’t though. You’ll just end up getting hurt. That seems to be all I’m good for.” The gentle rocking of his shaking form brought you to your feet.

“You’re worth so much more than what you give yourself credit for.” Without a second thought, you went to his side. “You mean so much to me, you have no idea.” The shake in your voice eluded to the pain you felt seeing him like this and hearing him talk so lowly of himself.

Those affectionate words stayed with him as he desperately tried to get himself to the point he could hold them close and hold onto them forever. “And you’d have me like this? Scars and all?” The hesitation he took in looking at you made that lump in your throat sink deeper. 

“Without a shadow of a doubt.” You scooted closer to him and leaned to the side in hopes of getting a better look at his expression. When that sinking rock in your throat finally plunged into the depths of your heart, you swore you could feel it shattering. 

A man who was worn and defeated contrasted his happy-go-lucky attitude. His emerald eyes were hanging to the floor and those lips that usually held a smile seemed to be struggling not to quiver. He gripped his pant legs and tugged on them, back and forth, clenching and unclenching his fists.

“It’s not that I don’t believe you. It’s just��” He trailed off not wishing to burden you with the turmoil that was ever constant. You leaned in closer, hoping that he wouldn’t shy away from opening up to you again. “I’m not sure that you know what that entails exactly.” The fall in his voice hinted at the emotion rising within, which was carried by the self-loathing he couldn’t escape.

Your eyes held on him; each twitch of his bottom lip, the wetness in his eyes threatening to make his genuine yearn for connection known, none of the subtleties went unnoticed or disregarded. You took a deep breath and spoke in a voice as warm as a summer’s day.

“Do you know what I see when I look at you?” Wanting to say ‘a demon’, he refrained and simply shook his head. “I see a man who is kind, gentle, caring, selfless, one who made a mistake - an accident - a long time ago and has been punishing himself ever since.” 

“How can I forgive myself if that moment still cuts so many so deeply?” The hatred in his words only spat venom inward, hoping the acid would finally sink in.

You treaded lightly, so as to avoid him spiraling into the depths of self-ridicule he so often found himself in. “I’m not saying you ought to take the leap into forgiving yourself, but taking steps away from self-hatred can carry you far.”

He buried his face in his palms, trying to withhold the flow of tears that were now reluctant to stop. “What if I can’t do that?”

Instinctively, you wrapped your arms around him. As he clung to you, you allowed his hot wet face to soak through your shirt. “That’s why you have me, and not just me but also your other friends who care so much about you.” 

You stroked his dirty blond hair, hoping he’d be open to letting you assist him on this trying escape from the iron maiden he’d casted himself into. “Sweet Vash…” 

You couldn’t help but cradle him closer. The large man who was mischaracterized by the masses and internalized it to the point he felt he could never escape: tortured more by himself than anyone else. But, your helping hand out of the tangling thorny vines was taken, leading him towards the long and winding road of healing.

[ckret2]

Chapter 24 of human Bill Cipher being the Mystery Shack's extremely inconvenient prisoner, featuring: the Pines figuring out a way to chase off Bill's ex-girlfriend... who happens to be a giant eyeball with bat wings.

It kinda goes like this.

(A head's up before we get going: this chapter is a bit more mature than prior ones, so I feel like a warning's in order. There's no sex, and nothing here is erotic or sexy (unless you, too, happen to be attracted to eye-bats), BUT there IS some academic speculation on the logistics of alien sex, and some very filthy-sounding dialogue describing acts that, to humans, aren't sexual at all. Plus some dirty humor and toilet humor. And nothing here is what I'd call billford quite yet, considering Ford still very much hates Bill's guts—but like, he's definitely a little too obsessed with the anatomy of triangles for it to be normal. If any of this is too spicy for you, skip this chapter and come back next one. We'll be starting a new "episode" then.)

####

It was past midnight. In his search for the eye-bat repellant recipe, Ford had flipped through every notebook he'd used during his initial interviews of the residents of Gravity Falls, flipped through them a second time, torn apart half his bookshelves looking for any reporter's notebooks he might have accidentally sorted in with his larger binders, and now he was exhausted, frustrated—and, worst of all, bored out of his mind.

Which made it hard to avoid thinking about more interesting topics.

And for the last hour he'd been unwillingly plagued with the question of how an eyeball and a triangle had a "casual physical thing." 

If that didn't mean sex—and you never knew with aliens—then it was still something close enough to fill the same social/recreational niche. It certainly meant sex on the eye-bat's side, Ford had fully documented the reproductive cycle of eye-bats, that was sorted out—but triangles?

It had to be something that would work in the second dimension. Ford had visited a two-dimensional universe populated by geometric shapes, he knew roughly how their bodies functioned: a shape's perimeter was its external surface—its "skin"—and its internal organs were inside that perimeter. So if Bill was still configured the way he had been in his home dimension, any external reproductive anatomy would have to be somewhere on his perimeter, right? Maybe at one of his corners? Or camouflaged where the seams of his brick pattern reached his edges?

But then if Bill were a normal two-dimensional person, he'd have his eye on the edge of his body, not right in the center of his "internal organs." So he'd been rearranged to some extent. Who knew how the rest of his body worked now? His top hat contained flesh and a skeletal structure; maybe it was a removable reproductive organ that could be passed to a partner, like some cephalopods' detachable tentacles—

Ford flinched as he realized Bill was staring at him.

To aid in his anatomical speculation, Ford had drawn a diagram of Bill in his journal and labeled various points on the triangle that might be concealing reproductive anatomy. He quickly scratched out the drawing's staring eye and slammed his journal shut. 

He'd happily gone thirty years assuming that Bill had no sex life—Bill was an energy being who presented himself as a floating featureless triangle, his hobbies involved cheating at chess and discussing multidimensional transportation, he probably wasn't designed for "physical things," and if he was designed for it then surely he wasn't interested. Ford was not pleased to have his assumptions disputed.

Because the thing was—Ford knew more than any living human about the mating rituals of unicorns, werewolf/mermaid couples, stomach-faced ducks, and tentacled warrior piglets. (Did he ever know about tentacled warrior piglets.) He had the only photos of a gnome mating ball, which he didn't need, because that horrible sight would be forever seared into his long-term memory. He knew the names of twenty obscene acts in siren sign language, and knew how to use his extra fingers to make them extra obscene. This wasn't unfamiliar territory to him. He was curious about how strange, supernatural creatures functioned; and those functions included how the reproductive drive influenced their behaviors; and a living triangle that had escaped from the second dimension was certainly a strange supernatural creature.

But, unfortunately, it was also Bill Cipher. And Ford did not want to think about what Bill did in bed. ... Assuming he used a bed. Really, at this point the only thing Ford knew was that Bill's only admitted partner was capable of flight. Maybe he just hovered while he—

Ford slammed his journal shut again to stop himself from scribbling down more theories, then stuffed the journal in a desk drawer for good measure. Did normal people think like this? He had no idea. He didn't even know who he could ask.

Enough of this. Back to searching for that eye-bat repellant recipe, and this time he wasn't stopping until he found it.

####

Like a vast eye in an upside-down triangle, the circular center of the portal lit up so bright blue it was almost white. The four energy vents glowed in sympathy. A rainbow constellation lit up in twirling patterns around the central light.

Bill watched with bated breath, a second-dimensional shadow waiting for his door to the third dimension to open. The cavern walls shook; the ground quaked and rumbled ominously; Bill didn't care. The portal was stable, the lab was somebody else's problem, and Bill had a party to get to.

The steel beams supporting the cavern rolled like a wave, and Bill's stomach roiled with them. They weren't supposed to be able to move like that. But he knew what he was doing, the portal was stable, he was not here to destroy this world, he'd come here to save it, whether it wanted to be saved or not—

The whole world undulated. Bedrock and steel were not built to undulate. Bill bobbed on the energy wave like a toy boat on a choppy sea; but the steel shattered, rock crumbled, shrapnel and rubble sprayed out. There was a peal of deafening thunder as the world below him cracked apart.

####

Bill woke with a gasp.

Oh. Right. Dreams.

Dream diary. With a groan, he sat up, checked to make sure no humans were coming by in the next few minutes, and pulled his stolen journal out of its hiding place.

The guide on lucid dreaming had recommended writing down his dreams in full, vivid, rich detail—any people or scenes or events, anything he could detect with his five (?) senses, as much as he could recall.

He drew a portal—gray inverted triangle with a center circle, four circles around the triangle, all five circles filled in yellow green—and then a yellow green line trailing out of the portal's side that grew progressively wigglier like a seismogram. He labeled his doodle, "this." He'd remember the rest.

After a moment of thought, he wrote, "Don't remember if I was a human or a shape. My organs were doing things a shape's shouldn't." (He wrote "human" as 人; there was no translation for the word in the language Bill wrote in. The two angled strokes stood out in Bill's rows of Morse-like dots and dashes.) "Being around so many humans who are CONVINCED I'm trying to destroy their world must be getting to me. Sixer pitched another hissy-fit about the portal yesterday. Enduring all that negative talk can't be healthy for me. I know I'm just helping their boring little planet, but maybe their accusations are getting lodged in this stupid brain's subconscious."

Maybe he should meditate a bit—go think positive thoughts, drown out the mortal voices that insisted they knew his plans better than he did. He'd had enough dreaming for one night, anyway.

Beneath the note to himself, Bill added in English: "Everything would have been fine if you'd just let me finish, Fordsy." If the humans ever did find this journal, Bill was determined to get the last word in.

Then he stowed away the stolen journal and shuffled downstairs.

He wondered how much was left of Ford's portal.

####

Old man bladder. Stan dragged himself out of bed. The other guest room bed was empty. Stan hoped Ford was sleeping in his study—he'd mentioned once he kept a cot down there. Better than pulling another all nighter studying alien sorcery or whatever.

He skipped his glasses, groped his way to the downstairs bathroom, and, yawning, lined up with the toilet.

The toilet said, "Pretty forward of you, Stanley."

Stan screamed.

He stumbled backwards out of the bathroom and hit the wall. Bill flipped on the light and leaned out to grin at him. "Careful! You're due for a broken hip any day now."

"BILL! What are DOING!"

"Trying not to get urinated on."

"Jsh—shut up!" It had dawned on Stan that if he could hear Bill without his hearing aids, then half the house probably could too. He hoped no one had overheard that. "Why are you sitting on the toilet in the dark!"

"It's a free country, Stanley Pines."

Stan raised a fist. "GET OUT!"

Bill bolted from the bathroom like a scared rabbit, then caught himself, rolled his eyes, and raised his hands over his head in mock surrender. "You could have asked nicely!"

Pointing at Bill as he retreated, Stan added, "And stop being so darn creepy! Lurking in the dark and sneaking around silently all the time, like a... some kind of—burglar ninja assassin!"

Bill turned to shout back, "What, do you expect me to make a peace cry every time I walk around? Make sure I can't sneak up and stab you in the back?"

Stan had caught about half of that. "YEAH, smart guy! It might help!"

Bill flung his hands out in defeat as he rounded the corner.

Stan finished his business, went back to bed, and glared angrily at the ceiling another ten minutes.

####

It had taken half the night, but at last Ford had disassembled the filing cabinet and found a few notebooks that had gotten stuck behind the bottom drawer, including the one with Old Lady Sprott's eye-bat repellant recipe. Ford copied it down, left a list of ingredients on the gift shop cash register for Soos, and finally dragged himself into the house to sleep.

And paused in the entryway.

Bill was sitting in the kitchen, staring out the window; Ford had seen him like this before. Usually, he could make himself walk by.

But he couldn't tonight. Maybe it was yesterday's conversation still weighing on his mind, the loose ends they hadn't tied up tangling around his throat. "What are you doing up?"

Bill's voice was inappropriately calm: "Dying."

Ford's guard went up. "Do you... Literally or metaphorically?"

"Literally," Bill said. "Hey—how many decades do you think this body's got? Probably not even a century, right?"

Ford's guard went down. Just moping. But it was an interesting question, one he'd put some thought into himself—what age had Bill's body been made at? How had his body been made that age? How long would the body last? Ford had wondered whether studying Bill's freshly-made-but-already-adult body might reveal anything medically useful about how aging affected the human body; but the odds of convincing Bill to participate in any medical studies—much less finding someone to conduct the study who believed their story—were nonexistent.

Ford said, "At a loose guess, I'd put you around... fifty, maybe? A very spry fifty." Bill's hair was a shockingly vivid gold, not a hint of gray, and when he was in a good mood Bill bounced about with an enviable lack of joint pain; but Ford had seen faint, delicate creases around his mouth and eyes that spoke to age. And the look in his eyes... Ford hated the phrase "old soul"—he'd been called that by some of his school teachers, and it only made him feel the distance between himself and his age peers all the more strongly—but with Bill, it was uncannily fitting. His eyes aged his whole face.

"You think this thing looks fifty? Wow." Bill took a deep drink from a cider can. "Shooting Star's best guess was half that. Thanks for shoving me twenty-five years closer to the grave."

Half that? When Ford had been a child, he'd had a harder time guessing adults' ages, and he supposed Mabel might be the same; but it was difficult to mistake a 50-year-old for a 25-year-old. Maybe there was something else going on. He'd have to ask her later. "With exercise, a healthy diet, and a little luck, you could still live another fifty." Ford nodded at the two empty cider cans already sitting on the table. "With your current drinking habits, I'll give you five."

Bill cackled—loudly enough to make Ford tense up, afraid someone would catch them talking. "Cheers!" Bill finished off the can and slammed it down with the others. "Ugh. Finite lifespans. Awful."

"Welcome to being human," Ford said dryly.

"'Welcome to death row,'" Bill said. "Ha! What'm I doing, worrying about decades. Let's be real, I don't even need to worry about the next five years. If I haven't found a way out of this body before then..."

Bill left the thought unfinished. An uneasy weight formed low in Ford's stomach.

"Ah, whatever. Like you'd let me live that long. Right, Sixer?" Bill pushed himself up unsteadily, keeping his balance first with a hand on the back of the chair, and then on Ford's (suddenly very tense) shoulder as he passed him. "I'm going back to sleep before that last can kicks in."

The way Bill was walking, Ford wasn't sure he'd make it up the stairs. "Why don't you sleep on the folding bed in the living room?"

"No window," Bill said. "I've g—" (He stumbled on the stairs.) "I've gotta see the stars."

Of course he did. When Bill said it that way, it was so obvious Ford didn't know why he hadn't realized that himself. Where else could Bill sleep but as close to the sky as possible?

Ford listened as Bill stumbled his way upstairs, creaked across the floorboards, and collapsed onto his makeshift bed.

Ford had thirty years left. Exactly thirty years. Don't have a heart attack, you're not ninety-two yet! Ninety-two was a good, old age. Older than his father had been. But thirty years felt too soon. And yet it felt fitting, somehow, for his life to be divided so neatly in thirds.

If Bill lived another fifty years in this body, and Ford lived thirty, who would stand guard over him? Would he and Stan have to pass that burden on to their gniece and gnephew? Or to Soos and Melody?

Why was he wondering—what made him think they wouldn't find a way to kill Bill before then? What made him think he wouldn't kill Bill before the end of this very summer?

What made him so sure Bill hadn't been lying about when Ford would die? Thirty years felt too soon; but ninety-two felt flatteringly optimistic.

Ford sighed, and picked up the cider cans to recycle.

He wondered whether Bill—hiding from his ex, fretting about death, sleeping on his enemies' floor—regretted how he'd spent his life.

####

Bill's second entry in his dream diary started, "Wet dream about Iris."

He filled most of a page with an extremely graphic summary before he sighed in frustration, stowed the journal away, and stared at the ceiling as dawn crept in. Well. Terrific. He was pretty intimately familiar with how humans coupled, but he didn't have much practice with the solo act. Plus the humans would give him heck if they caught him at it. He'd just have to suffer.

So here he was, all riled up and nowhere to go.

Who else could he make miserable?

####

Stan was startled awake by a heavy pounding on his door.

"Heeey Fisherman!" Somehow, Bill's voice was even more grating at dawn. He rattled the door several more times. "Just passing by! Wanted to let you know! Here I am! Right here!"

Did that demon ever sleep? And, follow up question, could Stan knock him out for a few hours?

Ford—who must have come up after Stan went back to bed—groaned and muttered something.

Ford wasn't nearly as loud as Bill. Stan reluctantly sat up and put a hearing aid in. "What?"

"What the devil is he up to now."

"No idea," Stan lied. "Go yell at him about it, he listens to you."

Ford sighed, but got up and left the room.

A minute later, Stan heard Bill exclaim, "I can't win with you people!"

He smirked.

####

The kitchen reeked that morning. When Stan came in for breakfast, the window was open, a fan in the entryway futilely directed fresh air into the kitchen and a fan on the kitchen table directed the noxious fumes outside, there were bags of groceries on the counter—he noticed hot sauce, peppers, cheap perfume, and an entire bag of raw onions—and Ford was standing at the stove, stirring a pot of vile-smelling brown liquid. The moment he saw Stan, Ford put him to work stirring the pot so Ford could start dicing onions.

While they worked, Ford explained the situation with the eye-bat harassing the tourists and the solution he'd hit on to drive it away. Soos had collected the necessary ingredients this morning, but couldn't help cook because he was busy finding a way to block the bottomless pit—

####

Outside, Soos scooted a trampoline up to the pit, carefully lined it up with the edge—the trampoline and the pit had nearly the same diameter—and shoved it in. It plummeted into the dark. After a short wait, Soos chucked a baseball down the pit. It disappeared, then bounced back up.

Soos pumped his fist triumphantly. "Aced it."

####

—so, Ford was working on the repellant, and in the interest of public safety and the greater good he was drafting Stan into helping too.

Which Stan supposed he couldn't argue with, but considering the smell he would've preferred dicing the onions. "Is all this really necessary for one eye-bat? I usually just swat 'em off with a tennis racket."

"This eye-bat happens to be large enough to carry off a first-grader," Ford said. "And Bill claims it's his ex-girlfriend, so I don't want to risk them meeting."

"Huh." Weird thing to date, but then Stan didn't know what he did expect a triangle demon to date. "Somehow I figured he was tangled up in this."

Ford laughed ruefully.

After a moment of chopping and stirring, Ford said, "Speaking of Bill—he claims that you ordered him to announce his presence? And that you tried to pee on him."

"I did not and he's a dirty liar! He made the whole thing up!" Stan didn't expect Ford to believe him. Stan also didn't expect Ford to believe Bill. Ford knew they were both liars. What Stan expected was for Ford to side with the person he liked best.

"Uh huh." Ford didn't question Stan further. Ha. Pines solidarity.

Even though he'd already won, Stan went on: "All I did was mention how quiet he is! I can never tell where he's lurking. Sometimes I almost forget he's here." In Stan's mind, Bill had been rapidly demoted  from "active existential threat" to "annoying houseguest who blends in with the shadows." Watching him help Mabel cut pretty pictures from fashion magazines with plastic safety scissors drained away most of his intimidation factor.

Ford gave Stan a funny look. "Really? I can't forget he's here for a second. Sometimes I swear I can tell where he's been in the house—like a cold spot left by a ghost."

Stan tried to figure out how to ask whether that was a reaction to decades on the run feeling like hunted prey—which Stan knew how to cope with—or a lingering magical side effect of Ford and Bill's alien possession deal—which Stan did not. Then Ford added, "It's probably because I hear him bumping into the furniture all the time."

"Oh. Yeah. That's probably it. You've got better hearing than me." Case closed. Stan turned back to the stove—

A deafening buzz made them both start. Stan splashed boiling brown stink across the stovetop. "What—!"

Standing in the doorway with a kazoo, Bill said, "How's that, Stanley? Do you like that better?!"

"YOU!" Stan flung the stirring spoon to the floor.

Bill bolted from the room with Stan in hot pursuit. "Whoa! Mercy! Truce! You can have the kazoo! It's not even mine, I'm just holding it for a fr— Ow ow OW ow—"

Stan hauled Bill in by the back of the neck and didn't let go until he was in the middle of the kitchen. He pointed at the spoon, then pointed at the pot. "Pick it up. Get stirring." He grabbed another knife and joined Ford chopping onions. Whew, what a relief.

Bill gave Stan a perplexed look, but picked up the spoon, gave the pot an experimental sniff, and got stirring. He didn't even wince at the smell. "Is this the gnome wizz? What is this, punishment for not letting you use me as a urinal?"

"Whatsamatter, I thought you were the one who thinks pee belongs in the kitchen."

"You're both too old for toilet humor," Ford snapped. "Bill, this problem is your fault, the least you can do is help prepare the spray, and you're not getting a knife, so you're on pot stirring duty. Deal with it."

Bill rolled his eyes dramatically. (At the moment, they were both uncovered; but one was already half squinted shut against the morning light.) "Fine, but only because I like hanging out with you."

Ford scoffed.

"And I don't see how this is my fault just because we happened to date. It's not like I invited her over," Bill went on. "If anything, you should be grateful she's my ex, or else I wouldn't be helping you chase her away—"

"Hey, that's what I wanna know about this," Stan said. He gestured toward the window; the ex in question was currently circling above the gift shop entrance, like a vulture waiting for something to die. "Exactly how do you 'date' an eye-bat? Just—how does that work?"

"Well, it depends on the eye-bat, doesn't it," Bill said, a touch patronizing. "They don't all have the same tastes, you know. But she happens to like art films and water parks. Easy date."

"I'm not talking about that! You're telling us you slept with an eyeball with bat wings—right? That's what we're talking about, right?" From the corner of his eye, Stan saw Ford giving him a sharp look, but he didn't tell Stan to stop. Yeah, the nerd was curious, too.

"Yes, Stanley." Bill's condescension was almost more overpowering than the kitchen's stench. "That's what we're talking about. I 'slept' with an eyeball with bat wings." He exaggerated the finger quotes around the euphemism. "Any more prying you want to do into my personal life, or...?"

"You look at that freak out there and think it's appealing?"

Bill stopped stirring and squinted out the window. Flatly, he said, "Yep. She's still drop dead gorgeous. Thanks for asking." 

"How do you even know that's a she! How can you tell a girl eye from a boy eye?"

Ford said, "Technically, Stanley, all eye-bats are female." He held up an onion and used his knife tip to gesture at it like it was a model eyeball, "They're parthenogenetic parasites that reproduce by attacking other species' faces and depositing egg-bearing spores on their eyeballs, which swim to the tear ducts to begin incubating. Over the next few weeks, the infected eyeball grows wings and develops its own nervous system while the host slowly goes blind in one eye, until the new eye-bat is mature enough to emerge from the host's socket and seek out her mother's colony—"

Bill let out a strangled scream. "Enough!"

Stan and Ford stared at him.

"Would you stop talking about eye-bat sex?! I'm already riled up! I don't need help making it worse!"

He slammed the stirring spoon down and started pacing. "I'm losing my mind. Do you know what it's like to be randy for something you don't have the right body for?!" He gave them a pleading, slightly crazed look. "I need to feel her pupil contracting against mine. I'd lick her hot, salty tears off her sclera. I'd bite deep enough to taste her retina. I want to look like I've got pinkeye from all the bat spores coating my face. I'd give my right eye just to have one of her wings fingering my eyelid again—but if I cave and go that far I know I'd lose my head and give her the left one too, and then I've screwed up, because STUPID HUMANS BODIES can't regrow their STUPID EYEBALLS—"

He kicked the wall so hard he lost his balance and stumbled back into the stove. "Ow. I'm going insane. I can't take it. I need to kill somebody. I need to set something on fire."

Stan and Ford were petrified. Stan's jaw had dropped.

Bill was panting from the exertion of his outburst, arms trembling, face flushed. His shoulders slumped. The picture of a broken man, he said, "I'd do anything to rim her optic nerve again."

Ford let out a strangled noise.

Bill took several deep breaths. He rubbed his forehead. "Sorry! Wow. That was... I think the fumes are getting to me." He shook his head. "The fumes and the hormones. Human hormones. You know, your species has very insistent..." He gestured vaguely toward the doorway. "I'm—think I should lay down."

Stan and Ford nodded. Bill trudged from the room. A few seconds later, Stan heard springs creak as Bill flopped his full weight on the living room sofa.

Stan and Ford exchanged a look. Stan said, "I shouldn't have asked about..."

"You shouldn't have asked."

"You should have skipped the science lesson."

"I should have."

They lapsed into silence. After a moment, Ford stood up to take over stirring the pot.

Stan resumed chopping onions. "Say, d'you think he staged all that to get out of stirring?"

Ford didn't reply.

"Sixer?" Stan glanced up.

Ford had turned away from the stove, and was staring at nothing with a faraway, troubled look. It was the look he got when he'd just latched on to some mystery that would haunt him until he solved it.

"Ford—?"

Ford slapped down the spoon and stomped into the living room. "But you hate losing your eyeball! So how did you two— I mean—! The spores—?"

"Incompatible biology." Bill's voice sounded muffled. "It's why we never got serious. She wants kids and my tear ducts can't incubate wings."

"Ah! Of course. That makes perfect sense." Ford returned to the stove with a look of triumph.

Stan didn't know how Ford had recovered from that fast enough to ask follow-up questions. Weird nerd. Stan shook his head but said nothing.

####

In Ford's journal, he scratched out most of his speculation about the anatomy of Bill's species, scribbled over the diagram, and added, "I severely underestimated how much his eye is involved."

####

At one point, during Weirdmageddon, when Bill had been torturing Ford for information, Ford had spat in his eye. Bill had licked it off. He'd seemed eerily undisturbed.

Ford would probably wonder how Bill had interpreted that act for the rest of his life.

####

Outside, dressed in a homemade hazmat suit consisting of painter's coveralls and a scuba mask, Soos faced off against the eye-bat, a spray bottle strapped to each hip like a cowboy's revolvers. Dipper and Mabel stood behind him, armed with a rake and a golf club, wearing a bicycle helmet and a football helmet with tree branches taped on. The eye-bat stared them down warily.

Leaning on his elbows over the kitchen table so he could stare out the window, Bill said, "Bet you a hundred bucks she steals Questiony's hat."

Stan snorted. "I'm not taking that bet. You don't have any money."

Bill grunted and turned back to the window, just in time to see the eye-bat dive for Soos's face. Soos whipped out one of the spray bottles, dropped it, ducked down to retrieve it just as she swooped past where his head used to be, and lifted it in time to spray the eye-bat when she circled back to attack him again. She reeled off screeching, eye watering, pupil contracting. Bill winced in sympathy. Poor gal. And she didn't even have an eyelid for protection. But, hey—better for her to suffer than for Bill to risk getting caught in this body. He'd take someone else's pain over his own embarrassment any day.

"It seems to be working the same as it does on any other eye-bat," Ford said. "Good. Once she's gone, Soos and the kids can spray the rest on the roof. That should drive her off while keeping the worst of the scent away from the tourists."

Streaming tears, the eye-bat dove at the kids. They yelled in alarm. Dipper threw his rake at her and missed. Bill flipped up his eyepatch to squint at the battle with both eyes.

"What, do you see something?" Stan asked.

"Just appreciating her sphericality." Bill sighed wistfully. "That spray's gotta be excruciatingly painful—but, I've never seen her that wet before. Sure, we've fooled around with a little hot sauce a few times, but even then—"

"I'm sorry I asked."

Outside, Soos shouted, "Hey! My hat! Give that back!"

Bill wordlessly held a hand out toward Stan.

Stan smacked it away. "Nyeh."

As the eye-bat retreated toward the forest, Ford sighed in relief. "She's gone. It worked."

"You sound surprised," Bill said.

"Frankly, I can't believe that you gave us accurate information on how to get rid of her."

"What! You wound me! Why would I lie about that?"

"To trick us into doing something that strengthens her? To arrange an opportunity to meet her?" Ford suggested. "After all, as one of your Henchmaniacs, she could have helped you escape."

Bill's blood ran cold.

She could have helped him escape. SHE COULD HAVE HELPED HIM ESCAPE! He'd been so worried about not looking stupid or losing his eyes, when all this time—! He could have signaled Iris from the window, and—and the bottomless pit was right there, she could have carried a message to the gang—at the very least, she could probably open doors for him—and instead he just—when he could have—

He watched in despair as Iris's pretty little optic nerve vanished behind the trees.

No, Bill decided—no, getting her help was a terrible plan. If it was a good plan, he would have done it; so it was terrible. He had a better plan. What was his better plan?

"Come on, you think I need her? I've got all the pals I need right here—whether you're ready to admit it or not." He elbowed Ford. Bill had decided he'd wheedle Ford back over to his side, and he would. His survival depended on it. Now more than ever. "I've got a way out, don't worry about that—it's only a matter of time—and she's not part of the plan."

Ford scoffed. "Really. Last night you were moaning about being on death row."

"Wh—Hey! That was..." Not fair. He scrambled to revise his story.

"You're lying about something," Ford said. "If it wasn't how to get rid of her, then it was why you wanted to get rid of her. For all we know, maybe she wants you dead as much as we do."

"Yeah," Stan said, "the 'girlfriend' story sounds crazy enough to be true, but you seem like the kind of guy who has a string of exes who'd love to kill you." (He did, as it happened, but it wasn't his fault he kept falling for petty jealous psychos who hated seeing him thrive.)

Ford said, "If she hadn't been a danger to the tourists, perhaps I should have invited her in to talk."

Unbelievable. Even when Bill did exactly what he was supposed to, he was still the bad guy. "Fine, she was a notorious black widow and you saved my life, happy? Do you like that story better? I made it up just for you." He jabbed a finger in Ford's shoulder. "You know what your problem is? You're too paranoid. You can't trust anything anybody says. You'll only hurt yourself like that—"

Ford shoved Bill's hand away and stepped out of poking range. "I spent years unlearning the paranoia you gave me. And when I finished, do you know what I figured out, Bill? All along, there was only one person I shouldn't have trusted: you."

It stung, but only in a distant, impersonal way; like a hard slap on a numb cheek. Bill turned to give Ford a sour look. "At the lengths you take it to, I could tell you the sky is blue and you'd have to check."

Ford's gaze automatically flickered toward the window.

"Ha!" Bill angrily shoved the table against the wall as he stood up. "Thanks for taking care of my pest problem, boys." He stormed upstairs, flipping his hood up as he went. Ingrates.

####

The view out the attic window was more interesting than usual, mainly because there were three humans traipsing around on the roof spraying eye-bat repellant. From time to time Mabel came by to make funny faces at Bill through the glass; he did his best to one-up them. Once, Soos nearly fell off the roof and died; Bill hadn't laughed that hard since he was murdered.

Their return indoors was heralded by Mabel shouting, "Dibs on the shower!" and Dipper replying, "I take shorter showers, let me go first!" They pounded up the stairs. Mabel tried to take them two at a time, tripped near the top, and by the time she recovered Dipper was already in the bathroom. She groaned. "Augh! Not fair! I don't want to smell like onions and gnome pee!"

"Neither do I! I need it more, I haven't showered in two weeks!"

Bill wondered why Dipper got to go so long between showers without getting dumped in a cold tub in his sleep. (He knew why.)

Bill whistled to catch Mabel's attention. "Consolation prize." He waved a cheap perfume bottle toward Mabel. "We had leftovers after mixing the repellant. It smells like strawberry candy."

"You're my hero." Mabel took the bottle and sprayed it all over herself, in her hair, and under her sweater. "You need a shower too, you know."

"Sure, but until Dolores fumigates the kitchen I'll just blend into the background stink. I can put it off til tomorrow without anyone complaining."

"You're grossss." Mabel emphasized the hiss by poking Bill's arm. "Once I'm clean, I'm not talking to you until you've showered too."

"I'll be devastated."

"Those are my terms!" She kicked aside Bill's cushion-bed so she could sit under the window without stinking the cushions up, and settled back to wait for the bathroom. After a (very short) companionable silence, Mabel said, "It's too bad we had to chase off your ex. I can see why you like her."

Bill gave her a surprised look. "Can you?"

"Iris was so graceful!" Mabel said. "And murderous, but mostly graceful. Like an evil swan."

Bill laughed. "Yeah! Yeah, she is. Floats like a dream. If you think she's graceful in the air, you oughta see her in the pool. She's the only person I know who can make a cannonball look elegant."

Mabel gave him a sly grin.

"What?"

"Look at you. Yooou still like heeer." Mabel propped her elbows on the edge of the window seat and balanced her chin in her hands. "How did you meet Iris?"

For the last couple of days, almost everyone in the house had talked about Bill's ex like she was some kind of malevolent creature, rather than a person. He was used to outsiders talking about his friends that way—heck, most of his friends were malevolent creatures—but it grated all the same. (He missed home.) Just hearing Mabel call Iris by her name was a breath of fresh air. No one else had even asked if she had a name.

"I met her at a party," Bill said. "I'd just gotten a piano and was showing off, and she came by to ask about Earth music. She wasn't in my crew then—but the party was open invite, and everyone in that corner of the Nightmare Realm knew that if you wanted info on Earth, you came to Bill Cipher. So, we talked about waltzes and tarantellas, I played a little Beethoven, we hit things off..."

They talked until the bathroom was free and Mabel went to shower. Sweet kid. Hopeless romantic, though.

When Bill got out of this place, he was gonna find the first boy who would break her heart and kill him before they could meet. It was the least he could do for her.

####

The third entry in Bill's dream diary: "Shooting Star's cartoon is getting to me. I dreamed about the wolf and the cat arguing over who had to host someone's birthday party. The wolf refused to let guests into his enormous mansion, but the cat's house was burning down. They asked me how to resolve this. I told them the cat should execute the wolf as punishment for his inhospitality, take over his mansion, and wear his skin as the party host. The animals were so in awe of my wisdom that I was deified as god of the jungle."

That was not what he'd dreamed. The animals were so horrified at his suggestion that they'd tied him to a stake and forced him to watch as they threw the cat into the flames of her own house. He couldn't remember whether he'd dreamed that he was a triangle or a human.

He preferred his version. Once he'd regained control over his dreams, he could replay this one and make it end properly.

He'd get the hang of this in no time.

####

(You're legally required to tell me if you had a reaction to this one. Even if it's horror. Especially if it's horror.)

[eldritch-spouse]

https://www.tumblr.com/eldritch-spouse/787196220461416448/httpswwwtumblrcomeldritch-spouse785739977066

But what if I want Santi to force me into submission?

What if there was a concubus that was a masochistic yandere that has a powerful fixation on high ranking concubus? Not because they want to steal from them or hurt them, they just to be around them. They can’t help but fawn over the powerful concubus constantly and consider any kind of attention they receive at all a plus even if it’s Santi draining them. They’d even thank him for using them.

Maybe that’s how they’re mentally perturbed in a way that makes it difficult for them to feed, something happened to make it nigh impossible for them to have any sexual or romantic interest in anyone other than a fellow concubus, but it obviously goes past that into worship territory too. Like they’ll feed if they have to but psychologically they can’t do it if it would displease their chosen concubus.

(I personally think it’s fun when the reader is both pathetic and a bit insane)

[I'm doing this as an exception, monster!reader isn't my thing but this is a good concept. It goes wihout saying Santi is completely flip-flopping emotionally in this scenario.]

TW: Abuse; Rape (misunderstanding in intentions? Idk)

You kind of disgust him, deep down.

Santi can't even fathom why he's kept you around for so long. He thought it'd be easy to do away with the conflicting feelings when he gave you that pity meal. But you didn't even take it. You're that broken.

He had to deflower that sap himself, and trickle some energy down to you by holding you as the human experienced their first sexual encounter with another. Part of Santi wanted to immediately swat you away as soon as his meal came, but he contradicted himself with tight claws upon your side, letting you have a sample of that burst, that euphoria.

You physically rejuvenated. And while he was glad, he also couldn't help the brightness in his eyes. You wouldn't do something stupid now that he was generous enough to feed you crumbs, would you?

Ever since then, things have unfolded bizarrely. Sometimes, you're a tentative friend, other times it feels like Santi's trying to see if more could work out. Then there's times where he can hardly stand you within 5 feet of distance, and you have to walk on eggshells after your cruel savior.

You'll never get those warm smiles and lidded eyes he offers his clients. You'll never get pretend wine-and-dined, his voice will never be as gentle and lulling as when he's snagging his bedwarmers. If Santi's in a good mood, you can walk in and watch. He doesn't ask why you don't eat, doesn't care to poke that. Other times you stand outside the whole time, and he wrenches you in when the deed is done.

In these moments, he gets to see how much of a freak you can be, as you kneel to lick the cum and slick off his body. Pray your gratitude to him with a cunt so wet that it almost confuses him. The incubus throws you onto the used sheets and immediately pushes your face down, you are fed brutally and mercilessly, each ram of his cock is both your prize and your punishment for choosing this life- For being cursed into it.

For as demeaning and painful as Santi's treatment can be to you -Not that you would ever complain!- He never forgets to feed you. Even if it's quick, he'll take breaks between jobs to stand over you and spit your meal into your mouth, jam his fingers into you and bite over your throat as you feel the magic power your constantly draining body.

His coworkers joke that you're his pet. Most of them just stare, seeing the dynamic between you, wondering how the gears work. Grimbly avoids you like the plague.

You can't help the ache in your heart when Santi stares at you from above -You wouldn't dare meet his eyes too long- Trying to figure out what to do with you. He wants to make something of you, but he can't quite settle. Maybe you're not good enough for him. Maybe he's thinking of resigning himself to you since you're what's around more often. You wish you could be anything he wants, you want him to keep this going forever.

You'll never forget the first time he got thrown into a heat.

The way the incubus chased after you like a raging bull- His mind saw you as what you are, a threat in his territory, not the pitiful thing he's keeping alive. You couldn't hope to evade him for long, got dragged under him bleeding and squealing. That time, you were truly afraid Santi would kill you, he took and he took and he took more until you could hardly move. Until all you could feel was his mouth, his dick, his tail while he gorged himself on you.

You figured there couldn't be a better place to die than in the suffocating hold of your savior.

And yet, you woke up with the high-ranker, still out of it, drooling, etching his own mark into your mons with bloodied claws.

It was the biggest honor you could receive. The tears kept coming, and they didn't stop until Santi thought he'd done a good enough job.

The next day, he looked blankly at you, restricted your access to his room alone and fed you throughout the day to heal the damage he'd wracked on your withering body.

You didn't care.

You had his mark, somehow.

Your high-ranker claimed you.

[i-am-trying-my-best-okay]

Season Three Bridgerton Predictions (Mostly Just Stuff I Want To Happen)

With Charithra Chandran not coming back in season three, they're going to excuse Edwina's absence by saying she married the prince and is living with him in Prussia.

We get flashbacks of Colin and Penelope as kids, where they were closer, but then we see them get distant because of ✨️society✨️ sending them on different paths.

Francesca, Gregory, and Hyacinth start having a few relevant and independent character moments and actions other than just being 'the younger ones' and have a greater impact on the story.

So. Much. Jealousy. From. Colin. And he doesn't even know it. He sees all their lessons paying off, and he gets jealous, but then he has no idea what he's even feeling. He'll act so passive aggressive with a potential suitor and Penelope's will be like, "What's wrong with you; we had a plan?" And he's like, "I don't know??" "Well stop." "I can't????" He'll land to the conclusion that he just think these men aren't good enough for Penelope for so long. It'll come up in a big argument and she's all like, "Well whose good enough for me? Someone like you?" And then he's like "Yes! Oh." And Penelope is so annoyed because NOW this guy likes her? Just as she was trying to move on? But the thing is she still likes him, so things progress.

Eloise and Penelope avoid each other like the plague, but when Eloise finds out Penelope and Colin are kind of having a thing, and she flips out. She doesn't want Colin to get hurt, so she tells Penelope to steer clear from Colin or she'll tell everyone she's Lady Whistledown. So she does and Colin is very confused and hurt. Then Penelope and Eloise go through some sort of shenanigan and end up having a deep conversation, making up and are once again friends. But then Colin accidently does find out Penelope is Lady Whistledown and is hurt, and Eloise becomes Penelope's #1 defender.

Kate's pregnant, and has the baby within the season. Anthony is freaking out about this; about being a dad, about the baby being okay, about Kate being okay, and how difficult the birthing process will be (trauma from Hyacinth being born). Meanwhile, while Kate is worried about the baby, she's more so focused on what responsibilities she now has as a Viscountess.

They don't reveal the Whistledown secret, at least not to the general public. I think the Bridgerton's will find out, as well as the Featherington's; so when Portia finds out, she sees Penelope in a completely different light, and they have a bonding moment. Maybe in lieu of a big reveal like in the book, at the end of the season the Queen finds out, and instead of exposing her, now she and Penelope sort of work together, aligning their agendas. This elevates the importance of Penelope's work, low key spying for the Queen and reporting on things to manipulate general society. BUT I think Eloise is leaning more to the politically radical side of things, and Penelope's work is now sort of leaning in the opposite direction of that. Despite this, they still find a way to be close friends, despite their very different agendas.

Colin does a big gesture on how he's proud of being with Penelope, that he'll flaunt it in public for all to know.

[yeslikethewizard]

【 all to myself, chapter 7 update!】

LINK: Chapter 7 - been blaming myself and i think you know why FANDOM: The Scum Villain’s Self Saving System RATING: M, full tags and content warning on A03 PAIRINGS: Shen Yuan | Shen Qingqiu/Luo Binghe, One sided SQQ’s harem hopelessly in love with him

SUMMARY:

After making it to Jin Lan City to aid his martial brothers in curing a strange plague, Shen Qingqiu stumbles his way directly into a curse of his own. The fates have chosen a life to tie to Shen Qingqiu’s own—and of course it would be tied to the early arriving protagonist! As the curse worsens, Shen Qingqiu finds that distance between him and Luo Binghe begins to freeze him slowly. Literally freeze, he is at risk for hypothermia for not being right next to the guy who probably wants to turn him into a stick!

Wait—what do you mean Shen Qingqiu will also lose the ability to lie!? That's an integral part of him not being unceremoniously sent back to the life where he’s already dead!

EXCERPT:

“I know Shizun, I know,” Luo Binghe chuckles, pressing his face against Shen Qingqiu’s shoulder. “I just always knew that Shizun had strong opinions about literature. I never realized how much he was holding back before.”

“It’s unbecoming—don’t laugh! It is!” Shen Qingqiu snaps, embarrassed.

“This disciple thinks this side of Shizun is also good,” Luo Binghe says fondly. He looks up, and Shen Qingqiu is suddenly hyper aware of just how close Luo Binghe is to his face while clinging to him. His heart does a really weird flip. What if—it would be very easy for Luo Binghe and Shen Qingqiu to just…

Terrified of that particular train of thought, Shen Qingqiu almost launches himself out of his disciple’s grip. It clearly startles Luo Binghe, because he does get away—like a cat squirming to escape the grasp after being overstimulated. Shen Qingqiu is aware that his face feels like it’s on fire, and he is very actively avoiding whatever it was before that he wants to think about. He will let himself think about how Luo Binghe makes him feel when it’s safe to do so after this curse is lifted.

And he isn’t looking further into the fact that he needs to wait until then to do so! You can’t trick him truth curse! Fuck off!

“In any case, this master has a plan to find the merchant,” Shen Qingqiu says, clearing his throat and trying to ignore the slightly wounded look on Luo Binghe’s face.

“What is Shizun’s idea?” Luo Binghe asks, sounding oddly cowed.

Shen Qingqiu can’t bear it. He walks back over to pat his disciple on the head—thankfully the man perks up after that. Good! He doesn’t have to say anything embarrassing to patch things up. Just give his Binghe a few pats and things will be just fine!

“There is a creature called the Plum Blossom Bear Hound,” Shen Qingqiu says. “A massive canid with an incredible sense of smell—a sense so strong that it can track spiritual and demonic energy itself. They’re peaceful creatures, and very intelligent. If we can find one and barter with it for something it may like, then we should be able to ask it to find the merchant who cursed this master.”

“Shizun knows what these beasts would like to trade?” Luo Binghe asks.

“Mn, what they love more than anything is gossip,” Shen Qingqiu can’t help but chuckle at the way Luo Binghe’s brow arches. He pats his disciple on the head again, but leaves his hand on his head to run his fingers through his hair. Binghe’s hair really is very soft, it’s irresistible and Shen Qingqiu has missed it far too much. “Gossip and stories that is. We just let them know some goings ons, tell them a story they enjoy, and we’ll be able to get at least one of them to assist. Binghe has many stories I’m sure, and if needed this master has a few tales to tell.”

Though truly, his life hasn’t been as interesting as Binghe’s! Especially with the Abyss. Though, Shen Qingqiu has a hard time thinking of those as just fun stories. He finds himself becoming somewhat pensive as he runs his fingers through Binghe’s curls, trying to undo some of the snarls that he finds in there.

“Where do we find them?” Luo Binghe asks, and he actually leans his head into Shen Qingqiu’s hand in a way that reminds him of a dog. Shen Qingqiu chuckles despite himself, scritching at his disciple’s scalp fondly. He has to resist the urge to tickle his chin as well, with Binghe’s head tilted up so that he can look at him. Ah, he truly is beautiful like this… well. He’s always beautiful.

“Bailu Forest,” Shen Qingqiu says softly. The look in Luo Binghe’s eyes is making his heart race and suddenly he feels a little breathless. He clears his throat, dropping his hand from Luo Binghe’s hair and opening his fan. “It’ll help that you were recently close with them, though we will have to be cautious since they were apparently looking for this master.”

“Does Shizun wish to go now?” Luo Binghe asks, glancing out the window. The sun has made its way through the sky, they’re well into the afternoon by now. Shen Qingqiu waves the suggestion off gently.

“No, even with Xin Mo, we’ll likely need to search the forest to find a Plum Blossom Bear Hound,” Shen Qingqiu says with a soft sigh. “If we go now we’ll likely have to camp at least once and this master would prefer to avoid doing so.”

He was a spoiled second gen rich kid in his past life okay!? He doesn’t like camping!

“Of course Shizun,” Luo Binghe says. His disciple stands up in one smooth motion, and Shen Qingqiu is reminded that Luo Binge is taller than him now. He tilts his head slightly to meet Binghe’s eyes, and Luo Binghe gives him a smile. “This disciple will prepare for if we must camp, but we’ll find the Plum Blossom Bear Hound before it becomes an issue.”

“Ah, good boy Binghe,” Shen Qingqiu says. Luo Binghe practically glows with the praise, and Shen Qingqiu huffs softly despite himself. Ah! Maybe his lotus isn’t blackened entirely. Shen Qingqiu can’t help his small smile. “This master will brush up on his knowledge of the Plum Blossom Bear Hound, just to make sure there’s nothing he’s forgetting about its habitat and information.”

[wooahaeruby]

Chapter 1: I Always Need You

Chapter Word Count: 2,303

Anything in Bold Italics are Korean/Another language.

Master List | Next

For over a millennia, everyone received a Soulmate Mark on their eighteenth birthday. Each mark was different, unique, and overall a personal reminder of the fate many wished to find. 

In school, children were taught of the most common Soulmate Marks; timers until meeting, first words written on the skin, and sharing emotions. Some extended further and ranged in intensity; varying color blindness, being able to draw on your skin and it shows on the other’s body, some even being able to feel the pain of others. There were many cases where a pair would have two forms of a Soulmate Mark. On the other side, when soulmates finally meet and the bond connects, the pair need their soulmate to continue to live. Being away from each other for long leads to loss of appetite, sickness, and – at worst – death. 

Growing up, you were a strong believer in what a soulmate signified. Someone who you were going to spend the rest of your life with, your better half, someone who was destined for you. However, your interest in meeting your soulmate and living your life with that person became questionable with some of the matches fate seemed to make. Your parents were no different. 

On the eve of your eighteenth birthday in 2015, you reluctantly had been dragged to your best friend’s house with a group of your small, close knit group. You were the third to turn 18, which was going to make this event a tradition until the youngest of the group in November. 

“This is stupid. You guys know I’m not into soulmate stuff anymore.” You said, watching your second Soulmate movie of the night, curled under a blanket between Jay, your best friend, and Nilah. 

From the corner of your eye, you see Jay lift her head from your shoulder and turn herself to you. Jay was a hopeless romantic, her parents were a perfect match along with her grandparents, aunts, and uncles. She was the second to receive her mark, total color blindness, and while that in itself was something devastating without a soulmark, she was crying tears of joy. 

Sitting on the other couch in Jay’s basement, Taylor and Amelia perked up to listen to the conversation. 

“Oh come on, just because your parents fall under the, like, 10 percent of soulmates that don’t work out, doesn’t mean that will be happy with you.” Jay defended, squaring her shoulders to face you properly. “Plus, you can get your soul-mark and if you don’t have a countdown, then you can just avoid people like the plague if you want! But at least give it a chance.” 

Staring at each other with equally annoyed expressions, you know deep down some part of you wanted to know… But you had a hard time admitting that out loud. 

The movie played in the background, keeping the room filled with sound despite the silent standoff the two of you were in. 

Taylor cleared their throat and spoke up. “Listen, why don’t we just hang out, play some weird meme videos on Youtube, and just not pressure Y/N so much with the soulmate thing. When midnight hits, we don’t make that big of a deal with it. Deal?” 

Glancing over to Taylor, both you and Jay just nod. Amelia took it upon herself to turn the movie off and changed the app to YouTube. Briefly her and Taylor discussed the video to put on. On the other side of you, Nilah curled closer to you; she had always been more of a quiet comforter rather than an outspoken or confrontational. Back three months ago, she had been the first to get her soulmark, simply feeling each other's emotions. She was one of the people you leaned on besides Jay when your parents fell out, she was your shoulder to cry on when the latter wasn’t available. 

For the next hour, you flipped from video to video, discussing and laughing every so often. Despite the little argument, Jay had settled back beside you, squishing you between her and Nilah. Between the calm, the quiet ring of a phone alarm went off, marking the time of five minutes to midnight. 

Taking a deep breath, you removed yourself from the human sandwich and dropped to the floor, sitting criss-cross as you stripped off your sweatshirt, leaving you in a pair of shorts and a tank top. The others took no time to gather up to form a circle with you to watch if any physical marks show.

“Alright, if you start to feel different emotions than what you are feeling now, pain you know you aren’t in, or any other changes, let us know, we’ll look for any physical stuff.” Nilah said softly, taking your hand gently to give a sense of comfort.

Nodding, you felt the anxiety bubble up in your stomach to your chest. Your heart rate became elevated and subtle nausea started to set in. Some part of you was trying to push down the fear that came from thinking of meeting your soulmate based on your experience watching your mother and father crumble. You told yourself you were going to be okay, that however the person was, they would be a good person, someone who would hopefully love you, care for you, and most importantly, wouldn’t intentionally hurt you with the soulmate bond. 

With idle chatter to fill the void of waiting, you evened out your breathing the best you could, trying to focus on the good aspects of the whole situation. No matter what, you were always going to be surrounded by your friends who supported you and wanted nothing more than your happiness. 

“It’s midnight!” Jay squeaked out, eyes focusing on your skin for any change.  

Then you felt it. Your breath caught in your throat and the feeling of a headache was slowly creeping around your head to put pressure behind your eyes. Your body felt sore, especially your feet, however that was more overshadowed by the headache-turned-migraine. That had made you nauseous all over again. Keeping your eyes open despite the pain, you looked from your feet, up your legs, then to your forearms to your wrists. There it stood strikingly against the skin of your wrist; a countdown timer, the seconds counting down with every passing moment. 

The anxiety you once felt was quickly washed away by a feeling of exhaustion but was accompanied by a sense of contentment. It settled heavy in your chest, calming you, even lulling you some to sleep if you would let it. 

“They’re awake at least,” You begin, “and have a massive headache, but they feel, god how do you explain it, content and tired? Accomplished? I can’t pinpoint it…” 

“7 years, 1 month, 17 days, and counting down..” Taylor mumbled, pulling out their phone to look up the date. “September 6, 2022. God, that's a long time from now.” 

“I mean, hey, that’s after college! Maybe you’ll meet a business guy or something.” 

With the headache continuing on, you all agree to discuss more another time, needing some time to process and rest away from the pounding behind your eyes. 

It was mid-day when the sudden rush of emotions hit him; uneasiness and worry. Sitting in the mostly quiet studio after a long but successful dance practice, he held back the urge to throw up in the trash can beside his desk. 

“ Oh god- ” He muttered out, only for the producer beside him to take notice of the shift in the other’s position. 

“ Ya, Woozi, are you okay? ” The other asked, rolling his chair closer to check up on the boy. 

Jihoon’s face contorted, running a hand through his hair and breathing in deep to hopefully subside the uncomfortable nausea. The headache he was already dealing with wasn’t helping the current situation at hand. He waved his hand as a way to motion that he was okay, but he stayed pretty still in case the nausea got worse. Thankfully, the feeling passed though he frowned. That wasn’t his own feelings.

Eyes growing wide, his head whipped up to meet the eyes of Bumzu, blinking a few times before another feeling flooded his senses; calm and fatigue. 

“ Jihoon-ah, really, are you okay? You look like a deer in headlights. ” Bumzu asks again, his concern more prominent on his features the more the other’s silence dragged on. 

“ Hyung…It’s more than just a countdown.” 

For the rest of the afternoon, the shared emotional bond was quiet on his end. On his own wrist rested the same countdown you had, time slowly ticking away. At one point he had zoned out of composing and simply stared at the numbers. 

Soulmates were something many people wanted, he knew that. He also knew that soulmates meant giving up some part of yourself to be attached to another person when the bond between the pair settled after meeting. His parents were a perfect match but like every couple, they have disagreements. No one was perfect, which is what he told himself, and he also knew that finding your soulmate is an amazing experience despite the slight drawbacks. Based on math alone, he would be nearly twenty-six by the time he was to meet the other half to his pair. 

Moving in a daze, Jihoon made his trek back to the dorm. With only a few months into debut, life was already hectic and unpredictable. Even the brotherhood him and his members had created predebut to now, there was a bit of a nervous tension that surrounded them. Most of the members like himself have received their Soulmarks, all that was the last of the ‘97 line – Minghao –  and maknae line. With all thirteen of them shoved into a single dorm together, they usually sat together on the night before the member’s eighteenth birthday and hung around until something happened. Jokes were always thrown around, they usually ordered a decent amount of food despite the current low earnings. 

Entering the dorm was similar to entering into a war zone. Shows were piled messily in the entryway, clothes were thrown haphazardly across the floors, and headache inducing noise flowed through the halls and rooms. Tonight was no different. Somewhere in the dorm he heard bantering and arguing, there was a voice singing – one he pinpointed to be Seungkwan –, and the miscellaneous sound of normal life living. 

“ I’m home. ” He called out, shaking his head to get his hair out of his face. 

A chorus of voices greeted him as he entered the living room, finding Seungcheol, Jeonghan, Joshua, and Dino sitting in the living room playing a card game together.  

“ Oh hyung, welcome home. ” Dino greeted warmly with a smile on his face. Beside him, Jeonghan attempted to lean over and spy on the cards in his hand. The former whined and slapped his cards to his chest while Joshua and Jeonghan laughed between themselves. 

Jihoon hummed in acknowledgement, dropping his backpack and took up the space on the floor between Joshua and Seungcheol. For the rest of the game, Jihoon simply watched in quiet contemplation, the words of his chosen brothers sounding rather distant and incomplete. 

“ ...Zi-...Jihoonie? ” Seungcheol placed his hand over the smaller man’s shoulder, breaking him from his train of thought. “ Are you okay? You look out of it. ” 

Suddenly, there were four sets of eyes on him, looks of concern mixed with curiosity. He shifted his gaze between each of them in quick succession before they landed at the table between them. 

“ After practice, I was in the studio with Bumzu-hyung. We were in the middle of working on a new track and I felt…I think I felt what my soulmate was feeling because it wasn’t my own. ” He began, clearing his throat to speak up a little more. “ It felt like a punch to my gut and I haven’t felt anything since then. ” 

On his shoulder, he felt the hand there squeeze and the voice to follow sounded collected and calm. “ Okay, that was probably a lot to take in. ” Seungcheol kept his hand firm on Jihoon’s shoulder, grounding him. “ Maybe, your soulmate is asleep, for all you know they are in another timezone, another country, and you will feel things once they are awake. You have two forms of soulmark though, so things might throw you off until you get used to it. ” 

The rational side of Jihoon knew he was right, on the other side of him Joshua placed a hand on his leg and gave it a simple pat to reassure him along with their leader. On the irrational side – which was being yelled at by the other side seeing he still had a countdown on his wrist –, Jihoon held this tiny feeling of apprehension. 

“ Maybe they are some hot shot that will knock you on your ass in seven years. ” Jeonghan chimes in, a shit eating grin plastered on his features. “ Or some big music producer one day. Who knows, maybe they’ll give you a run for your money. ” 

“ Hey, sorry to interrupt but I think Hoshi and Seungkwan are about to kill each other over whose clothes are whose in their room. ” Walking nonchalantly into the living room, Wonwoo’s typical deadpan expression was met with Seungcheol’s exasperated but annoyed one. 

“ And here I wanted to have an easy night where we can also relax but no, I have two of the trio at each other’s neck. Again. ” Removing his hand from Jihoon’s shoulder, the leader stood, stretching his limbs some before following Wonwoo out of the room. “ Yah, can’t we have one evening without fighting!?” 

[rhettsabbotts]

Re the skating thing you just reblogged:

Eddie used to be super into hockey as a kid and Wayne splurged one birthday and got him all the pads and the skates and the helmet and stuff. But then he hit his growth spurt and nothing fit anymore, and they couldn't afford to buy new stuff so Eddie had to give it up. Part of why he kept failing high school is from avoiding gym class like the plague, partly because he thinks he looks stupid (read: too on display) in the shorts (see also for example: Harrington, S.) but mostly because he decided that if he can't do the athletic thing he WANTED to do then he's not going to do ANY of it.

But then the kids want a day at the roller rink (to give El some better memories of skating), and they insist that Eddie comes along...

OKAY I AM SO SORRY I DIDNT ANSWER THIS SOONER I LITERALLY DID NOT SEE THE NOTIFICATION IF I EVEN GOT ONE!?!?!? which is very rude because i no longer have any memory of any kind of skating post BUT!!! I USED TO GO THE SKATING RINK ALLLLLL THE TIME AND IM FROM INDY SO I HAVE THE VIBE LETS FUCKING GOOOOOO!!!

Eddie really doesn't wanna go. But El uses her puppy eyes so he immediately says yes. And while we know Steve is sporty i want him to be bad at skating. He's got adorable wobbly knees on wheels and keeps one hand on the railing around the Rink the entire time he's out there, or just near the edge.

The boys keep making fun. El had slowed down and skaed with him for awhile before he'd shoo-ed her away and told her to go enjoy herself. His body is full of tension. The entire tims he's there, apart from when they take a break to get cheese fries and milkshakes.

Eddie shows up later, cuz he had a shift at the garage, but managed to get of an hour early. He watches Steve struggle for a few moments and then goes and rents his skates. He laces up and cruises out onto the shiny wood floor, his legs carrying him easily and swiftly where he wants to go.

"Harrington." Is all he says to Steve the first time he rolls past him. He turns easily, skates backward and waves and smiles at him. Steve's jaw drops and he fully stops skating, knuckles white on the metal railing that has been his lifeline all night.

Eddie passes him a few more times. Takes a small break to go buy some goodies in the little gift shop. He buys two necklaces and two light up bracelets. The bracelets he gives to El and Max, glowy matching friendship gifts. And the necklaces he tucks in his pocket and skates over to Steve. Who is still struggling along, stubborn as ever.

Eddie skates over, briefly catches the tail end of Dustin trying to goad Steve away from the railing. He hears Steve hiss "fuck off Henderson." And watches Dustin skate away laughing. Eddie skates up, uses his breaks to stop and turn so he's face to face with Steve. His eyes widen as he looks Eddie.

"Hey." Eddie says, smiling. Steve takes a deep breath, his knees are shaking, but he does his best to stand up straight.

"Hey to you." He huffs, one foot darting forward a little. Eddie reaches out instinctively, his hand landing on Steve's hip, steadying him.

"Tilt you foot forward, toe down. The break on the front'll help you not move." Eddie taps his skate into the side of Steve's, watches him carefully do as Eddie instructed. His toe hits the floor and he immediately looks more steady.

"Thanks." He breathes, sighing heavy and then smiling up at Eddie.

"Hey." He says, sounds actually happy this time.

"Hi. I got you something." He pulls the necklaces out of his pocket and clicks the button, the little round medallion on the end lights up and flashes. He pulls the two necklaces apart and drapes one over Steve's head, settles it around his neck gently, pats at the flashing lights against Steve's chest twice, smiling. And then drops his own necklace on. Flipping its switch so it flashes just like Steve's.

"Thank you." Steve says, looking down at it, and then back up at Eddie.

"You're good at this." Steve tells him, pointing at all the people skating past them, the majority of them dsncing to the music blasting from the speakers.

"Mhm. You're not." Eddie hums, nods his head to Steve, bites his lip, teasing.

"Yeah no shit." Steve huffs, looking grumpy again. Eddie smiles.

"Do you trust me?" He asks, head tilting sideways. Steve looks at him.

"What?"

"Do you trust me?" He repeats, not looking away, not even blinking. Steve's eyes narrow, widen, move over Eddie's face before they soften and he breathes.

"Yeah. I- I trust you." He nods, looks nervous.

"You trust me enough to let go of your safety bar?" Eddie jerks his head toward the railing, still not taking his eyes off Steve. Steve's eyes move tho. From Eddie to the bar and back again.

"Maybe." Steve says, sounds uncertain. Eddie laughs, bright and beautiful, and holds his hands out in front of him, palms up.

"I won't let you fall. I promise." Eddie says, wiggles his fingers.

"You're gonna be my safety bar?" Steve asks, his throat working, but Eddie can see the color flooding back into his knuckles, his grip loosening.

"Mhm. I'll be your saftey bar. You're water wings. Training wheels?" Eddie thinks, shrugs, wiggles his fingers again. Steve smiles, huffs a laugh, and lets go.

He slids his hands into Eddie's, holding tight, Eddie holds tight right back.

"Good? Ready to move?" Eddie asks, his eyes wide and waiting.

"Yeah. I think so, yeah." Steve says, lifts his toe break off the ground and lets Eddie pull him along slowly. His knees wobbling as Eddie guides them easily across the floor, only looking behind himself every now and again.

And that's how they spend the rest of the night. Hand in hand. Eddie guiding Steve, holding his hands tight as he teaches him and helps him and keeps him steady. After awhile they end up skating side by side. The music carrying them across the floor. Steve does a few laps on his own when Eddie goes to chase Lucas, Steve marvels at how fast he is. How he moves on his skates lile he's not on wheels, like he's just running in his tennis shoes.

Steve laughs, staying close to the railing but trying not to use it as he watches Eddie fucking run and hop on fucking wheels across the rink after Lucas. Once he's caught him, Eddie does a few more laps, skating backward, fast, his feet moving and flowing past each other like liquid until he skates back to Steve, gets close, but not so close to knock him off balance.

"Doin' okay sweetheart?" Eddie asks, and there's that fucking nickname again. He always uses it when Steve is uneasy, and it always fucking makes him feel better. Steve nods.

"How the fuck do you do that?" He asks, breathless. Eddie just shrugs, nonchalant.

"Wanted to play hockey. Ice is way harder than this." He taps his foot on the wood and does a little spin, landing right back next to Steve who wobbles dangerously. Eddie catches him. Easy.

"Hmm. Not sure i like the idea of you running around with blades on your feet." Steve muses, his fingers clutching Eddie's shirt. Eddie laughs, head thrown back, deep in his belly.

"That is actually very fair. I got cut a few times." He's smiling brightly. Once Steve is steady again Eddie takes his hand and leads him away from the edge, away from the railing. Steve lets himself be led, lets Eddie guide him across the floor. Eddie never going too fast, or pulling to hard. Just stays by Steve's side, his hand in his, keeping him steady. Keeping him safe. Keeping him smiling and laughing and forgetting about how miserable he'd been at the beginning of the night.

Steve never wants to let go of his hand. And he tells Eddie this, when they're leaving the rink at the end of the night, Eddie's skates already off the wooden floor. Steve tells him he doesn't want to stop holding his hand, whispers it, all shy and sweet. A little nervous.

But Eddie smiles. Eddie smiles and tells him he doesn't have to let go.

.

.

.

(Im thinking i maybe remember the skating thing??? As i was writing him chasing lucas i remember the video of the dudes at the skate place!!! I hope thats the one you were talking about???? If not, here's this anyway. For you. Hahahahahah! Thank you for the ask and sorry it took ages i legit did not get a notif for this and am sad.)

[rav-not-found]

Heyy! I saw you wanted to try out writing a request or two, so here I am✨

I was wondering if I could request a Dean and/or Sam winchester x reader (sepperately if you choose to do both, like two sepperate one shots in the same post) with an established relationship where they get a motel room that only has two beds, so reader has to share a bed with the winchester they're with, and it's just some awkward fluff where both are just figuring things out in this fresh relationship

Thank you!!

there was only two beds -

I love that actually!

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Dean winchester x reader, established relationship, fluff

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Its been a Long drive to Colorado for this seemingly complicated case, it seemed like forever since you have gotten a good nights sleep and tomorrow morning you have to hit the morgue first thing if you want to see the bodies before they are transported to the funeral homes.

you want nothing more than to go kick your boots, peel the layers of clothing off of you and Finally lay down, but to your surprise when Dean opens the motel room, there was only two beds.

All three of you look at each other, unsure who should go in first or where - but before you can really think about it Sam shrugs and goes directly on the closest bed to the door, drops his things, and into the shower he goes

“what a bitch” Dean says with a roll of his eyes, making his way to the other bed before you stop him

“wait where will I sleep then??”

he looks at you a little confused, then a little awkwardness can be seen on his usually confident face

“I- uhm” he clears his throat, “I assumed we’d sleep together?- I mean- not like that- of course not like that its been a long day but I meant- if you dont want to I can sleep on the couch its fine-“

you find it hard not to crack a smile at the usually confident and full of bravado Dean who is now closer to an awkward teenager in his first sleep over

“oh no no its okay- im- don’t worry its alright I don’t mind-“ you say with a small chuckle, a little awkward yourself

he goes to put his bag away and places yours next to it, he unpacks a change of clothes for himself and then looks at you hesitantly before reaching into your bag and getting one for you as well

and for a moment there between the silent movements and shuffling of fabrics, you get to see how softly he holds your belongings, how much care and love he exudes for a pair of pants or an old band t-shirt, and god if you could fall in love all over again….

he gets up from where he had placed the bags on the ground and hands the fresh clothes to you, avoiding eye contact like the plague of course.

“..Thanks Dean, appreciate it”

“yeah dont mention it” he risks a look at your soft smile, and a blush starts to creep up his neck, to which he quickly breaks the moment “SAM ARE YOU GONNA BE THERE ALL NIGHT?? WE HAVE BEEN IN THE CAR FOR THE LAST TEN HOURS TOO YOU KNOW.”

you laugh a little at his chosen method of checking on his brother, but it actually works quite quickly as Sam comes out in the next couple of minutes and flips him off. you laugh again.

Dean asks if youd like to go in first, Sam strongly suggests you take him on that offer before he “grossens up the place”, but for deans luck youre a little more tolerant than Sam and you let him go first

the moment hes in, you can see Sam unpacking and putting things aside before he sleeps, but he throws you a look or two of acknowledgment, which make the silence a little less awkward - but not completely.

“do you think I upset him when I didnt assume we’d be sleeping in the same bed?” you asked in a low voice, hoping the walls arent too thin

Sam looks at you with a small smile and a soft look, “nah I think hes just not really used to how….normal relationships function I guess? I think hes more scared of upsetting you than anything”

“oh” it just hits you now that you might be this guys first actual relationship in years, and the awkwardness might not be only from your side of the coin “oh god did I scare him?”

Sam, now laughing, “honestly? maybe, he is a little more insecure than he lets on; but I think you can just assure him and itll be okay” he shakes the chuckle in his throat away “honestly for a couple who are both older than me, it feels like im watching a highschool first crush first relationship kind of situation”

“oh fuck off like youve never had an awkward moment before”

Sam contemplates for a moment “sure yeah, when I was 16”

and with that, you also flip him off, making his success rate of getting flipped off today 2 out of 2 times a 100%

he chuckles and seemingly actually lays down to sleep this time

and conveniently enough for you, Dean comes out of the shower just then, leaving you no time to sit alone in the unsettling motel silence

“I uh” he clears his throat again, youre starting to think he does that whenever he’s nervous “I cleaned it for you - contrary to what Sam might think Im actually good at cleaning so….youre all good to go”

he also avoids your eyes mostly saying this looking down or around before going in the beds direction while you’re going to the bathroom, when you pass each other in the middle, you give him a quick kiss on the cheek and whisper a sincere thank you directly on his skin, he mumbles a “no problem” under his breath in that overly deep voice of his when hes awkward, and makes quick strides to the bed as you go to take a long awaited shower.

when you come out, all clean and fresh, you notice the clothes you are gonna wear neatly folded in pile on the bed next to a “sleeping” Dean who is so tense you could use him as a rock solid analogy, and trying to take such little space its almost funny seeing this six foot man trying to be so small

you change quietly to not wake up Sam, then slide in bed behind Dean and hug him from the back, to which he tenses even more - if thats even possible - before slowly relaxing into your hold

“you okay?” you ask in a whisper, unsure if hes gonna continue playing asleep or will actually reply to you

his reply comes half a minute later “I should be asking you that”

“and why would that be?” you say back, trying to put as much sass in a whisper as you can

“you know why.” if eye rolls could be heard, you just heard it in his voice

before you get to reply though, he continues

“im sorry I didnt really think when I was asking for the room and im so used to asking for doubles because its usually just me and Sam- I didnt mean to make you uncomfortable or assume anything I know this is all a pretty new arrangement and-“

you cut him off, “hey hey hey… Dean, its okay, I swear im not uncomfortable I was honestly just surprised by the bed sizes, it didnt look like itd fit two people, but when you said we’d be together I knew we would be able to fit because I trust your judgment okay? and I have definitely had worse sleeping arrangements than being tightly stacked next to my male-model-pretty boyfriend you know?” your voice was low but soft, full of sincerity

you can hear him chuckle lightly before turning around to face you, “its just been a while since ive had a similar… situation, with anyone - and I really dont want to fuck this up…I really like you you know?”

it was your turn to chuckle now, “I know, and I really really like you too, Dean. Believe me itd take more than a tight bed to get me to even slightly be annoyed at you, youre fine, were fine, okay?” you pause to give him a light kiss “and if Im being completely honest with you, I was kind of hoping this would happen because I really need one of your strong hugs to put my bones back in place after todays drive”

he huffs out a laugh and gives you a kiss too, “in that case, I will gladly become a weighted compression blanket” he says as he changes your positions.

now holding you impossibly close, he hugs you tightly and pulls the covers over your shoulders, with his nose in your hair and your face to his neck, you start drifting to sleep

“I love you” you say in an almost undiscernible whisper, half asleep

“I love you too” he whispers back to himself as he is sure you’re already no longer awake

he stays awake for a bit more in the quiet soft night, holding you tightly and softly smiling to himself

“I love you too” he says once more before falling victim himself to sleep

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this is my first fluff one shot since I tried writing for the first time a year ago or so so I really hope you like it !!^^

and thank you for the request^^

[artsy-hobbitses]

Some thoughts I had for the technosapiens, such as Catseye and Crosswing. They’re all FUCKING TERRIFIED of Omar. Technosapiens were designed by the Quintessons to do two things: gather, collect, and record data (see if earth can be reconquered) and to find and collect the Matrix.

This is where things get weird, the technosapiens do their job, but during a battle between the Autonaughts and Decepticons, they go after Optimus to get the Matrix. And the Matrix defends itself by sending an emp wave. This disrupts their eusocial hive mind and leaves them completely lost. They know what they’re supposed to do, but not why or how.

So they go with plan b: stalk both bases, turning them into analog horror sights. No one can get a clear look at these guys and they keep taking stuff. Nothing major, clothes, trinkets, random memorabilia. But the worst is the stalking; they watch everyone and no one knows why. People know when they’re being watched because cameras will be pointing at them and their interests will suddenly be everywhere. Which is the strangest thing these creatures do. They watch from afar, they control tech, but they never engage with anyone. It becomes obvious when someone piques their interest as suddenly that person’s favorite songs, movies, or games will suddenly appear on all monitors or radios. Both bases become flooded with their interests favorite things. It’s obvious when a conflict of interests arises because any and all radios or monitors will flip back and forth between multiple sources causing chaos for high command.

Both sides have whole discord or Reddit forums dedicated to figuring out what they want and who they’ll target next. It becomes clear that they steer clear of Optimus, when he is the only one they put danger signs on either side his images. So both bases use this to deter them. Poor Omar. They’re scared of him. This is also where the technosapiens get assigned their names: Catseye, Crosswing, Clutch, Quickfix, Knightlight, Anansi, Megabyte, Adonix, and Maccabee.

Their actions change, but only for the most annoying. I.E: they attempt to “help” with the war effort. On both sides. Que Ratchet losing his mind as med supplies are either missing or someone has been stitched improperly. Both kitchens are a mess because someone clearly doesn’t know how a blender works (Crosswing). And any new supplies that come in also come with a news report of a government facility being haphazardly broken into with a potential paper trail leading back to either group!

The TL;dr of this: don’t want any chaos? Put up a picture of Optimus and they’ll avoid you like the plague.

Oh they're going to drive Prowl mental, he's feeling emotions he didn't know he had at the mess they're making of this perfectly-run base. Them scattering like lice when OP comes into the picture though I'm ahsfgjgfhffff HE DOESN'T EVEN KNOW WHAT'S GOING ON just ??? ?????????? while Prowl does the "got my eyes on you" gesture at the camera which is moving in ways he knows it shouldn't DON'T MAKE HIM PULL OUT THE BIG MAN WHOSE DISAPPOINTMENT ALONE WILL MAKE YOU WITHER TO DUST.

[dykevanny]

Pls yap abt system Vanessa more I need to know more so curious!!

here’s some misc things. I’m eepyyy

I think vanessa and vanny are both artists, ness works more realistically and likes acrylic while van’s the one with the spraypaints n cartoons<3 it would loveeeee to fuck around w ink tho i think.

Vanny’s age is weird, ness was 8 when they first split and van was around 12 then but she hasn’t aged much more than 2 years. Sometimes its age changes randomly though, but it usually defaults back to 14 these days.

I think it’s easy for Greg to tell who’s fronting because ness makes an effort to have good posture (ahh the back pain demons) while vanny is a hunched over beastie (used to bunny feet also). On the flip side, vanny spends a lot more energy masking,(afteraffect of dealing with ness’s dad) at least until greg makes her a new bunny mask. It makes her feel safe.

Ness definitely fronts more often but vanny specifically avoids work and other responsibility-related things like the plague, little beast. She takes over cooking for ness tho, as long as knives aren’t involved.

Vanny knows JACK SHIT about repairing robots but she knows some coding. Ness is the tech expert of the two.

[katyon2020]

Long story short, this post is gonna be a big shout out to both @kyubeys-contract and @the-ravenclaw-werewolf . I took the girlies from main character syndrome and pondered wether they would accept Kyubey's contract, the oned that way yes, get their own PMMM form and a possible Witch form in the future.

Anyway, here's the girlies who would say no:

-Kobayashi: Pretty obvious, she's smart, she's a grown-ass woman and she's already not impressed with the magical shit in her own universe, her ass would NOT want to be a magical girl.

-Haruhi: This one I had to think about a bit, and I said no because A. she's smart and B. I'm not really sure what she would ask for since she's pretty satisfied with what she has like I don't even think she would remove the debt.

-Korra: Bitch is already the Avatar.

Now to the girlies who would say yes:

1. Tohru Honda

Again, she's a very humble girl so I don't know what she would ask for on her own (probably not being homeless now that I think about it), but if it's for someone else she would do it in a heartbeat. Probably something like breaking the Sohma curse or even making sure Kyo doesn't end up in the Cat's house and Kyo finding out later which is depressing to think about which is also cool.

2. Chika Fujiwara

Before I see the comments, I admit she is smarter than some people think and comes from a family of politicians and is working towards being a prime minister in the future. But, she is very impulsive and even more vain and is also a huge shoujo fan so she would immediately agree to be a magical girl, not sure what she would ask for but whatever.

3. Mako Makanshoku

On the flip side......Mako, you are a fucking treasure, you were what finally convinced me to watch Kill la Kill, I would never utter slander against you.....but unfortunately..... you're not very smart... if you want it to not be serious, she would probably ask for food, if not, helping her family financial situation ig...

4. Kae Serinuma

This is one I'm actually still not sure about as Kae is once again, one of those characters who is just kinda happy with what they already have but I also can't see any obvious reason she would outright say no (if we are ignoring the whole "meta-otaku" angle and she has watched Madoka, in which case, she would know to avoid Kyubey like the goddamn plague he is), she would probably ask for something silly like one of her OTPs becoming canon or something like that. Also while I was drawing, I was doing a Cardcaptor Sakura homage but I should've gone with Sailor Moon-Damnit.

5. Emma

I'mma be completely honest....I have not fully read TPN so I'm really insecure about the design. But, I think we can all agree that Emma is smart enough that she can sense Kyubey's shady af but.....they are gonna get eaten by demons, there's no way to go but up from here...

I might do their Witch forms in the future, but for now I wanna cleanse my pallet a little, so let me know.

[hogwartsandhawkins]

Prove Me Wrong

Chapter 4: Looking For Good

Prologue Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6

Summary: Telling Steve she has a new ride to school doesn't go so well.

Warnings: Swearing (but what's new) Billy bullying Max briefly. Also, Billy pressuring reader (Jess) into letting him give her a ride. (I include this because the reader says no after second-guessing her decision, causing Billy to push back, which can have some underlying themes for some, and I wanted to be sensitive to that.) As always, please let me know if I miss anything.

Word Count: 2.4K

Author's note: I know I know, I haven't posted in forever. Moving back to the States was an EVENT, to say the least. I have also been working on this for a while, many chapters are already written and I'll post them as soon as I feel they have been reread enough for them to be slightly okay.

Jess awoke that Sunday morning as she did every Sunday morning: already thinking of an excuse to not attend church that her parents would buy into. Luckily, she didn’t really need to think of one for long as she already had plans to invite Steve over to finally “help” him with his physics project. She was surprised her parents haven’t taken the hint by now, considering that she has been avoiding that place like the 10 plagues of Egypt ever since she experienced the capabilities of the upside down, and of course, Eleven. But since skipping downstairs and laying out why she refused to go was a blatant impossibility, she merely explained that Steve needed her help.  Thankfully, she didn’t have parents like Steve. Instead of the guilt trip, she received a slightly disappointed “tisk” from her mother, who then told her they’d miss her. 

Jess watched as her parents exited through the garage door, which was located next to the pantry in the kitchen, then proceeded to dial the Harrington’s line. She knew Steve would be up, as his parents were always explaining how if he wouldn’t go to church, he at least needed to be productive on his Sunday mornings, which involved him getting up at the same time as Mr. and Mrs. Harrington, at least when they were home.

“Yup?” Steve’s voice was groggy and laced with what Jess sensed as resentment, most likely caused by his mother’s usual “seize the day” spiel followed by her opening the blinds that shielded Steve’s bedroom from the unwelcomed amount of light. 

“Good morning to you too, Harrington.” 

His voice seemed to pick up a bit when he heard who was on the other side of the phone. “Oh hey, Jess, how’s your morning been? Better than mine I hope…” Steve’s voice lowered to a whisper at the last part he added.

Jess ignored the question and went straight into asking him to come over so they could finally get his physics project out of the way. With the promise of Steve being allowed to hide out for the rest of the day at her house and an afternoon nap, he quickly agreed and was knocking on the Logan’s door in no more than 20 minutes. 

Steve set the box full of different shaped and sized lenses, stands, a light, and everything else Steve was instructed by Jess to bring. “So. How was Friday with Hargrove?” He visibly tensed as he said his name, shaking his head in disgust after thinking about it for too long. 

“It was fine.” Jess tried to avoid eye contact as she began setting up his quick focal point experiment, bringing out the ruler as she set up the first lens. 

“Fine? That’s all you have to say about a day with Hargrove? Fine?”

She couldn’t help but laugh at Steve’s response, “What did you expect?” 

“Really?” was all he could say. He flipped the switch of the battery-powered light to “on”, and then gave Jess a knowing, disapproving look. She didn’t even have to look back at him to know exactly what Steve was expecting: a disaster. 

“I mean, he, unfortunately, has a thing for my mom, I’m pretty sure. But it’s Hargrove. He’s gross. That’s about it.” 

Jess didn’t know how to tell him that it really wasn’t that bad, or worse, that she may have had an okay time studying with him this weekend. She was also now realizing she didn’t know how to tell him that Billy Hargrove was under the impression that he would be taking her to school tomorrow morning. 

She decided maybe the best approach was to do so while Steve was distracted, so as they continued replacing the lenses and repositioning the stand, she started out slowly. “So… you know how Max and Billy live, like, right down the street?”

“Uh-huh…” Steve didn’t look up from his notes, working out the equation for the last lens they set up.

“Well, Max and him were wanting to give me a ride Monday… To school I mean.” 

Unfortunately for Jess, he was well aware Max and him just meant him, so he looked up from his notes, amused at the thought of Jess turning him down. “Ha! Did Hargrove throw a fit when you told him ‘No’?”

“He didn’t really accept ‘no’ for an answer…” Not that I exactly tried hard enough to tell him “No”. 

Steve dropped his notebook on her coffee table with a plop and then turned back his attention to Jess, who was now holding a tight-lined smile on her face, ready for the anticipated ridicule she was about to receive. “Oh come on. You know, kid, you really need to grow a backbone.” 

“I honestly think you’re making it out to be worse than it is. I mean, Max will be there. Plus, it’d save you the time and the gas. I’m like the opposite direction of school for you anyways.” 

Steve considered this for about a millisecond before shaking his head rapidly, “I’m sorry, call me crazy, but it seems like you want him to pick you up.” When Jess didn’t answer right away, he continues, “Oh Jesus H, you’re not serious!” 

“No! I don’t want him to, but I mean… I think he just wants to study one last time before school, you know, for the quiz and stuff…”

“Look, I don’t like the idea of you around him. When I came to that night in the back of that car and you weren’t there, I freaked.” He then lets out a sigh before continuing, “You just need to be careful with him is all I’m saying.”

“I am.” But that was a lie. There was nothing careful about what was going on. There was nothing careful about him coming over to her room, being able to look through the intimacies of her life. There was nothing careful about spending time at his home, alone with him. There was nothing careful about allowing herself to laugh at his jokes, or allowing him to buy not only her but her parents dinner. And there was nothing careful about getting in the car with him, giving him permission to take her wherever he wanted.

As if reading her mind, he ducked down slightly to meet her gaze, “Jess. I promise. You’re looking for good where there isn’t any.”  He then gave her a sympathetic smile and picked up his notebook, continuing to jot down what he thought was the correct answer to the equation. 

After a few hours and many corrections made by Jess, they were finally done with the physics lab. She assured Steve they could pick up the materials later and allowed him the couch to take that nap he was promised, and after she made sure she heard him snoring, she grabbed three muffins from the container in the fridge and walked over to the Hargrove/Mayfield household.

As it was three in the afternoon, she wasn’t sure whether Billy would be home from work, but seeing his Camaro in the driveway answered her question of whether or not to knock on the door. It seemed as though Max and Billy were the only two home, something Jess was grateful for considering her first run-in with Mr. Hargrove was not as pleasant as most of her run-ins with other adults. When Max opened the door, she looked excited to see her, but immediately looked behind her and shut the door, holding in her excitement until she was sure Billy couldn’t hear. 

“Hey! Oh, you should have seen Dustin’s hair Friday! It was insane.” Max then realizes Jess is holding not one, but three muffins in her hand, and cocks her head to the left. “Are all of those for me?” 

“Well, one is, but I’m actually here to talk to Billy for a few seconds. Is he here?”

Max took one of the muffins, bit into it, and then proceeded to talk in between bites. “Ew. Why?” 

“It’s about him taking me to school on Monday…” 

At this, Max’s distaste turns back into excitement. “Wait, we’re taking you with us?” 

“Well, no, not anymore, I was thinking I’d stick to Steve taking me to school.” 

“MAX! WHO’S AT THE DOOR?!”

“NOBODY!” Max rolled her eyes before continuing, “Please, please, pleeeaaasee let us pick you up tomorrow. He might actually not be such an ass if you’re there.” As she finished her pleading, the door swung open, with none other than Billy Hargrove standing at the entrance. 

“Hey, princess, couldn’t wait to see me?” It was Jess’s turn to roll her eyes as she handed the remaining two muffins to Billy. 

“Hey! Why does he get two?” 

Jess ignored Max’s annoyed expression and proceeded to change the subject. “So I’m just going to ride with Steve tomorrow. Don’t worry about picking me up.” 

Before Billy could respond, Max continued from earlier, “Tell Steve we’ll bring you to school in one piece.” 

“You heard the little shit, we’ll make sure to take real good care of you. Plus, I need you in the morning.” 

“Why?” Max’s look of disgust made a return, which seemed to irritate Billy as he coldly looked back at her and ordered her back inside. 

“She can stay if she wants to stay.” Jess began to remember why she took a disliking to him in the first place. It was easy to forget how… awful... Billy could be if he wasn’t sitting there joking with you, actively trying to be nice to you. You’re looking for good where there isn’t any. The thought made Jess clench her jaw only slightly, but enough to make Billy notice. “Yeah, I’ll just ride with Steve. See you, Hargrove.” She then allowed herself to give him a short smile before heading back in the direction of her home. 

He had only watched her walk away for a second until he decided he needed to catch up to her, not liking how that conversation ended. Billy pushed the muffins at Max without thinking and started striding after Jess. “Hang on there, Logan,” he mocked the way she spat out his own last name, “You gotta help me study before the quiz.”

“I don’t gotta do anything.” There it was: the attitude that Billy was sure they have gotten passed. It made him pull his body back in recoil, being discomforted by the thought that she may not have been warming up to him this weekend after all. Sure, it really had only been two days, but he was enjoying her company, considering it was better compared to who usually kept him company, and he could have sworn she felt the same, at least a little bit? “Look, I already promised I wouldn’t say anything about our reading sessions or your dad, okay? You don’t need to keep an eye on me. I’ll see you for our next project.” 

“Keep an eye on you? Did I do something wro-“ 

“I don’t like the way you talk to Max.” She blurted out, which surprised both her and Billy, and when Billy couldn’t think of anything else to say, she continued, “I don’t like the way you talk to anyone actually. Or about anyone. Or with anyone. You- you’re just. You don’t…” Jess didn’t know any other way to say it, “You’re not a nice person, Billy. And I don’t have time for that. So thanks for the offer, but I’m not interested.” She stayed looking at Billy, who refused to look anywhere other than his feet. He began to run his tongue across his top row of teeth, mouth shut and downturned, and began to nod, as if he was thinking about what was said. He then looked up, still not at her, but to her house where he saw a familiar vehicle in her driveway: Pretty Boy’s BMW. 

Makes sense. He thought to himself. “So I’m guessing King Steve didn’t approve when you told him, huh?” 

The question irritated Jess even more. Not just for the mere fact that Billy didn’t believe she could make her own decisions, but just hours ago Steve accused her of the same. “I can decide for myself who takes me where. Thanks.” Silence. “Did you not listen to a thing I said? I said I don’t want to be around you because you’re an asshole, not because Steve said ‘no’!” 

“Oh no, I heard you, Jess. It just seems weird to me that last night you were completely fine with me taking you and now when Steve’s over, you tell me to fuck off.” 

“When did I ever say I wanted you to take me to school? When you asked me, or excuse me, told me you were taking me, did I once say, ‘yes’? Did I once ask you to take me to school?” Billy was now looking at Jess with an expression she didn’t recognize, which made her uncomfortable enough to look away. 

“Can I take you to school tomorrow, please?” But the softness in his voice jerked her gaze back to him, trying to analyze him, to see if there was any hint of insincerity. He quickly looked over his shoulder before continuing. “You’re right. I didn’t ask. And I’m sorry. You don’t have to say yes, but shi-Max wants you to come with, and, I… want you to too. So.” This made Jess furrow her brows. In some ways, he was right. She had every intention of going with him until this morning. She wanted to help him study, considering how much work he put into their reading sessions this weekend. But of course, Steve was also right. There was no way around it, Billy was a dick. To his sister, to his sister’s friends, to her friends, even to his own friends. 

When it was made obvious to Billy she didn’t seem ready to respond, he sighed and continued, “Look, I’ll be at your house at the same time I told you last night, if you don’t come out then I’ll leave, okay?” 

“I’ll help you study.” Is all Jess said in response to his offer, and began to walk back to her house. Billy took what he could get and nodded after she had already turned away, and did the same, returning back to his house. Billy didn’t realize that Max stayed out by their doorway, attempting to watch the whole thing. Before he could give her shit for being nosey, he replayed Jess’s words in his head. “Give me those,” is all he said as he took the muffins from her hands and went back to his weights.