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animestsstuff2 · 5 months ago

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Twitterpated

Part 2

Masterlist here!

Your villain alias is Angel! Sometimes referred to by Dabi as Dove due to your wings but for anonymity purposes you (the reader) will be referred to as Angel for the majority of this fic🤍

Content warning: this is set after season 4/5 and will have spoilers up until season 7 mainly in later chapters tho! Hawks flirting cuz hes lowkey smooth with da ladys

Night two, 2:00am.

Hawks was jittery, was it from the third can of coffee? Or from his jumbled thoughts? He called the doctor after his shift yesterday and didn’t get a helpful solution. He shifted from his standing position on the top of his agency, crouching low as his eyes scanned the streets below not really focused as his mind drifted to the phone call.

“Sounds like your primal needs are poking through hawks” Hawks sighed as he lay on his bed, fingers carding through damp hair.

“Primal needs? What’dya mean?” He asked uselessly, he knew exactly what the doctor meant.

“Your quirk. You didn’t just get the mutation of wings Hawks like most mutation quirks other qualities are mixed. An example would be a cat-like quirk they, not all the time now, can be prone to getting a heat. Thats dependent though on how cat-like they are, its differen-“ Hawks zoned out, his face pink as the doctor continued on about heats and mating seasons. His body warm as his mind filled with thoughts.

He knows everything about his quirk, knows the weight of each feather, the way his wings have to be folded, the way they stretch. Its like breathing, so..why didn’t he know this? If animals mate every year why didn’t the spring months bother him until now, what has changed.

“Anyways! I digress. I speculate the reasoning for your sudden awaken in your more primal instincts is due to meeting someone of interest” Hawks attention was back on the phone pressed to his ear as he sat up. A sudden thought pushing to the forefront of his mind.

“Uh, yeah thanks. Gotta go” click, the phone was tossed aside as he got up, naked as the day he was born and began pacing his bedroom.

Was this your doing? Maybe this was your quirk. You had pressed something into his back last night and he forgot to figure out what. A groan fell from his lips as he sat back on his bed, hands cupping his face. No, this wasn’t some stupid quirk other than his in play. He wasn’t one for relationships, no time for them. He never reacted this way before towards his few flings. It had to be related to you, to your quirk. If only you weren’t a villain, maybe a mutual agreement could have be-

Beep!

Hawks blinked as his visor displayed a sudden report of criminal activity. A break in at a lab thirty minutes away. Hawks was gone from the rooftop. It would only take him ten to reach the crime. His heart beat hard against his chest as he thought of you being there, was this you? Would he see you again. This intrusive thoughts filled the blondes mind, one after the other. It was like someone else was in his brain, they didn’t feel like they were coming from him

Hawks eyes scanned the lab, seeing the sirens blare and lights illuminate the surrounding area. His wings flapping and keeping him up high as he saw two other pros join the scene below. Hawks eyes narrowed watching as they entered through the main door but just as they did a flash of white flew through the window to the left. He didn’t miss a beat as he soared after you. His heart beating faster now, easily catching up with you as he stayed above seeing you with a handful of supplies. He pulled a long feather from his back but his hand faltered. You flipped over now, slowing your pace as your eyes met his. Your gloved hand trailing up to trace the edge of the fluffy feather. Hawks heart skipped at the touch, it felt too sensitive, too raw even with gloves.

“C’mon Hero, it’s for the league. You’re not gonna stop me are you?” Your voice was low and teasing as you slowed even further. Your white wings outstretched as you circled one another high in the sky, going up and away from view.

It looked almost like a dance as Hawks felt his words get caught in his throat, only able to focus on the eyes that gleamed above the mask. You had a new one, no long a plain white cloth but rather a white mask now fit on your face. Hawks put his feather back regaining his composure as he flashed a grin, ignoring the way his wings stretched too far, tensed too much and his body ran warm. The two of you now alone, above the clouds. He couldn’t stop himself from glancing at the white wings behind you, smaller than his both in length and size overall but big enough to carry you.

“Stop you? I’d never lay a hand on a pretty thing like you” He wasn’t intending to say that but the words slipped out before he could think of another response. Your cheeks flushed and the reaction egged him on, something pulling in his chest.

Didn’t know you liked it rough Angel. I promise i’ll not hurt you too bad” the implication behind his words made your wings falter slightly and you almost fell. Your face definitely red as you thought of a response. Your eyes breaking contact with the avians yellow ones as you felt your stomach twist. Your emotions had been wired since meeting him yesterday, unable to play it cool anymore.

“Um, right. Well..Do I have to make it look like we fought? So people don’t ask questions?” You mumbled, thankful for the night sky and your mask for hiding the pink on your cheeks. Hawks brow raised at your reply and he chuckled. You really must be new to the league. Why were you even part of it? You didn’t seem crazy like the rest of those nut-jobs, especially that blood freak. Hawks wings bristled as he recalled the time he first met her. He focused back on you. The grin never leaving his face.

Thats not what I meant! I-I have to go!” Hawks grin feel as your wings flapped and spun you round. His hand moved quicker as he grabbed your forearm and your body tensed as the feeling went straight to the tension in your stomach

. “W-Wait. I was just messing with ya Angel” He didn’t know what else to say to make you stay. He didn’t know why he was even bothering, no rational thought could make sense of why the feeling in his chest wanted you to stay near him so badly.

“Whatever. I have to go. It’s already quarter to three if i’m not back before then boss will kill me” you mumbled, turning your head over your shoulder to glance at him. Your hair moving in the slight wind which picked up had strands falling over your face. Hawks all but blinked dumbly as his grip on you faltered and you pulled away.

You were quick immediately taking off as your white wings became nothing but a blur. His own puffed out and twitching, not even realising how fast they were flapping. His mind finally zoning back in as he let himself drop, coming down from the sky just a ways away from the hospital and going over seeing police already at the scene.

“Hawks! Did ya see anything?” His eyes moved over to a police man waving his hand. He headed over shaking his head and plastering a familiar grin on his face.

“Nah. I got sight of somethin’ but they disappeared through a portal before I could get close” he lied, it was for the league, not you. Hawks left before he could be questioned further remembering Kurogiri was in police custody, not a great lie.

His wings bringing him to a large building just a bit away from the lab. He felt it again. His body warm and skin sweaty. His wings spanned out from his back as he removed his gloves and wiped his clammy hands onto his bottoms. His throat feeling dry all of a sudden as he tried to ignore the tension in his stomach. His fingers carding through his hair as he let out a sigh.

Did you feel this?…

You did in-fact feel it. Your wings bristled as the wind caught under them, stretched out. You swooped through the air as you grew closer to the ground. Your arms wrapped around the supplies you’d been asked to gather. Your cheeks warm and hands clammy. You landed softly on the rooftop your wings staying stretched out slightly behind you as you made your way over to the fire exit door.

It swung open as you stepped inside the dingy stairwell. It was lit by a single bulb with no shade. The door swung shut behind you as you made your way down and into the sort of communal area below. The warehouse served as a secondary base of operations before the planned move to Deika city to uncover some ‘present’ One For All left behind for Shigaraki.

You entered the communal area seeing Toga and Twice sat on the dusty sofa toying with some board-game the most likely stole. You spotted Spinner hunched over the stove by the Kitchenette as he fumbled with a knife.

“Where’s Shigaraki?” You asked all of them.

“Tomura? Hes out right now! - no hes in his room! Twice gave a typical double response and your eyes moved to Toga.

“He’s in the workspace with Dabi!” She giggled and you nodded. She creeped you out the most to be honest. Her insistent begging to have some of your blood so she could fly bothered you.

You headed down the hallway to the ‘office’ it was really just Shigaraki’s room that he liked to call his office. You knocked once and heard the raspy voice beckon from inside as you stepped in and placed the supply boxes on his desk. His hands folding the papers in front of him and moving them away. Dabi who was previously leaning over the table straightened himself as he looked you over.

“How’d it go? Any run ins Dove?” The tall man asked as a smirk stretched across his marred skin. Your eyes averted from his as some feathers fluffed up recalling your encounter with the blonde haired hero.

“N-, No it went fine” you mumbled out. Your skin growing warm as your cheeks flushed. A single finger curled around your mask and pulling it down as it fell under your chin.

“No? Why ya all red for then? You run into our little bird?” His voice teased you as Shigaraki straightened up. This information new to his ears.

“Whats this? What little bird Dabi?” His fingers already scratching at his forearms skin.

“Ya know, our little birdy Hawks. Angel here has some feelings for him I reckon” Dabi chuckled as your skin prickled with bumps. The villain costume you had made thankfully hiding the goosebumps which prickled your arm.

“Hmm, that’s not good..no, not good at all Angel” Shigaraki stated as his nails curled against his skin further.

“No! It’s not true. I did run into him but he let me go. My face is just warm from flying so fast to get away” You quickly shot out and Shigaraki’s eyes gave you a once over before shrugging his shoulders and waving a hand.

“Whatever, just don’t let it become bothersome. You can leave the supplies here. Dabi you can go too” He mumbled and you nodded turning as Dabi followed close behind you now both exiting the room.

“You sure nothin’ happened Angel?” Dabi’s voice from behind made you jump as fingers trailed up the spine of your wing. His slender fingers pinching a feather..pluck! You flinched and spun round on reflex seeing Dabi with a sly grin on his face.

“You know. I don’t care much for the league or everyone else’s agenda except my own. The care I have for them is solely to fuel my own agenda and consequently it’s in my benefit to ensure everyone stays in their place” You swallowed thickly as the hallway became hot. Dabi’s hooded eyes staring at yours as your feather lay flat in his palm.

“See, i don’t bother going out of my way to learn about mutation quirks, the ins and outs. But I understand some people come together due to them, ya know, hook up or breed even” he laughed at his snide comment. You felt yourself grow warmer, cheeks flushing and heart rate increasing.

“And i just wanted to make sure our little Dove isn’t all twitterpated over our little Birdy, Hawks. Cause’ ya know, that wouldn’t benefit me at all” He stated and your eyes honed in on the blue flame that swallowed your feather. All that remained was ash and your right wing twitched feeling a slight twinge of pain.

“You understand, don’t ya Dove?” His grin only grew, stables stretching as they held the charred skin together.

You just nodded unable to form any words to reply but it was enough for Dabi and he turned without another word. You watched him retreat down the hall and through the door to the communal area and only then when the door shut did your rigid muscles relax and your breath finally become short as you clutched a hand over your chest.

“Fuck” you mumbled as you forced your feet to take you to your room. Your hand gripping the handle too tightly as you shut it behind yourself and rested your forehead against the wood. Your mind buzzing with thoughts as you concluded the only thing you should do and that was to ignore Hawks, which couldn’t be that hard.

Right?..

I also don’t know whether to make the character (you) a real villain with a vendetta against hero society or make her a unfortunate but good person who has caught herself intwined and/or in debt to the L.O.V

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etheries1015 · 8 months ago

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BOOK 7 SPOILERS BELOW

I finally decided to suck it up and catch up with twst book 7, I stopped after seeing Silver cry because I'm sCARED OF BEING SAD 😭😭 anyway here's a few reactions I had to it 😭

And hearing about the update coming soon-ish to ENG servers I really need to read up

Lilia pressuring Epel like the old man he is 😭😭 I love the moments that they remind us just how old Lilia actually is and how he sees most if not all the students as if they were his children/grand children, making sure they get the most out of the party and drink...its giving "What do you mean you're not hungry? Absolutely not. Here Is at least 5 servings of whatever dish I made to help u grow big and strong."

Okay I didn't take a screen shot of it but the entire section where Lilia looked kind of guilty with Ortho about exchanging addresses because you just KNOW he probably isn't gonna check in, presumably because he doesn't want anyone to get More attached to him seeing as he is nearing the end of his life span (crying shaking throwing up)

THIS. THIS. THIS INTERACTION HE HAD WITH US. I LOVE HIM. I AM SO SILLY FOR HIM. I totally forgot I changed my in-game name from my nickname to my REAL name and when he said my name I verbally yelled "WHAT THE HELL" before giggling and kicking my feet hehehehe I'm clinically insane for him

But the fact that he acknowledged us as Malleus friend probably means we've spent a lot of time at the dorms or around Lilia for him to see how our friendship and interactions with him work, and it melts my heart hehe. Being part of the diafam fr. But honestly bro back me up, I'm tired of being called a hench-human 😭💀

I wonder just how bad we must look with everyone noticing the strange shift??? Either we REALLY made a scene (tripping over, going pale) or the twst boys are just that attentive to us and I think that is the sweetest thing ever 😭😭 Ace and Deuce is so sweet for thinking of us and trying to get us out while also being polite to the people who kindly held the party. Despite not being there long, ace and deuce is willing to skip out on free food and drinks in order to make sure you're okay and I'm just 😭😭 ANGELS. I LOVE THEM.

But also the way Lilia worries for you is so sweet 😭💜 I should write a fic of sick reader and Lilia, or reader trying to tough it out because I know for a FACT Lilia would not let that slide! (Hypocrite 😐)

I ACTUALLY DROPPED MY JAW WHEN SEBEK SAID THIS SHIT. I WAS. WHAT. WHAT THE HELL LMFAOOOOO 😭 thats fucking insane bro I actually found myself chastising him thru the phone, I would NOT let that discrimination against humans bullshit pass fr 😭 slap him right upside the head and give him a stern talking to. I like seeing Lilia get frustrated, he's so cute and UGH. Although it went in one ear out the other, Seeing Lilia mad is so hot if I'm being real with y'all rn BUAHAHA.

I didnt screen shot this either (and I can't fit anymore photos on this post smh) but Silvers nose being red and obvious he was crying but Lilia confused. DudE OF COURSE he was crying!!! You're his dad!! You raised him since he was a baby, he's just now going into adulthood and doing that WITHOUT HIS DAD who is going to a far away land! Sure, traveling is a thing , but honestly nothing beats having that support just a moments away. Silver is literally the sweetest and wants to support his dad , but who's going to support him????!?! Lilia is putting him in a position where Silver feels the need to be strong and hide his tears for Lilias sake, but of course this is hard on him, its so sudden, too! Being so close to your parent and next thing you know mere days later they are stripped away from your arms?!

I just want to give them all hugs. Lilia obviously has some issues and misconstrued ideas of love (a million people have made posts and comments on this, so I will not repeat it) and I just. Need them to all sit around and be their mediator while we go thru their emotional states.

Ugh. I was in my twst burnout stage and still low key am, but fuck does it spark so much passion in you 😭😭

#twisted wonderland #etheries rants💜✨#Twisted wonderland book 7 #diasomnia #twst #lilia vanrouge #malleus draconia #sebek zigvolt #silver vanrouge

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ppushable · 3 months ago

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moodboard creds to @firefly--bright tytyty

low tide

jean kirschtein x fem!reader / multichapter / wc: 10.8k

part 2 of rose tinted hours

⋅ ⋆ ─────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────── ⋅ ⋆

Monday morning and here I am, missing out on my classes, struck with a sore throat and an invisible ax sticking out of my head.

Maybe the only nice thing about today is the man craning over me in the dark, feeding me porridge.

That, and the overly-sweet tea.

⋅ ⋆ ─────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────── ⋅ ⋆

cw: kissing.

there's a soundtrack for this one! completely optional, of course.

queue: ==> new home (slowed), austin farwell ==> dreamcore, daniel.mp3 ==> farewell, erikson jayanto ==> october, adrián berenguer ==> parfum d’etoiles, ichiko aoba ==> i was only temporary 2 u, my head is empty ==> might start singing - sped up, sheldon charlot

⋅ ⋆ ─────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────── ⋅ ⋆

The figures in front of the dorm converge in front of Jean’s car as they engage in some sort of conversation. Sasha (I think that’s Sasha) slinks around Jean’s taller form and attaches herself to the side of his car, being scraped off a moment later.

Unsticking myself from the window, I carefully reposition the dark blue curtains so that no light filters through, the simple action causing my head to swim as if filled with honey.

I got Jean’s flu. Which, obviously, is to be expected, considering what happened yesterday. Paired with the fact that we slept together last night.

As in, laid down and fell asleep in the same bed with nothing strange happening in between. Whoever came up with that wording needs to be shot.

Contrarily, Jean is perfectly fine. And despite all the urging that I’ll be fine too and that he shouldn’t skip out on classes, he’d insisted on staying right here.

Not that I’m complaining.

I glance at the red numbers projected onto the corner of the ceiling indicating the time as I sit back so I’m leaning against the wall. 8:28. Almost time for my first class, which I won’t be going to, as so firmly put by Jean before I shooed him away.

“If I come back here and the room’s empty, I’ll make Connie march into Hospitality with a condom pulled over his head with your name written on it.”

He’d do that, too.

Running my hands over Jean’s fleecy Cars blanket, I find and unlock my phone to type a quick message to Sasha.

me: sorry sash,, not coming to hospitality. i got sick :(

me: jeans staying home for me tho. dont wait up <3

Pray she doesn’t get the wrong idea.

sashacado: dw about it!!!

sashacado: 😏

I shut my eyes as the screen induces a sudden wave of dizziness. Alright then. Knowing her, everyone and their mom will know about this before the day ends. I toss the phone somewhere on my bed and it falls to the ground.

Jean, where are you?

⋅ ⋆ ─────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────── ⋅ ⋆

He nearly barrels into an old lady in the soup aisle. With a profuse apology, he continues half-jogging to the fridges, glancing at the list on his phone.

🖤: onions, rotisserie chicken (should be on sale), chicken broth

🖤: oh also rice. and carrots and mushrooms if u can. plus milk. thats a must

🖤: im trusting u wkth this. if u spend over budget im scalping u personally

🖤: <3

He can’t help the little smile that twinges his mouth with the last text. There it is. The end product of many sleepless nights, wondering if his feelings were, in fact, reciprocated. All in a little text. Less than three. Two dumb symbols he’s dreamed of receiving. It makes his heart feel a little warmer in his chest, a little heavier, like a reverse-Grinchification. The good ending, he can hear Connie saying.

That, or he’s misconstruing the whole thing. That’s definitely possible too! She sends that little symbol to everyone. For all he knows, he probably moved up the friend ranking a little. It probably means nothing at all.

Watching the pill be so carelessly popped into her mouth, that small smile, the look in those eyes. Hands on the headboard. Hand on his body. Hand in his hair—

“Woah! Excuse me, sir—”

And then reality comes shooting back to him like an oncoming bullet train, because nothing snaps Jean out of his happy place like that voice.

“Kirschtein?”

Jean stops in his tracks and slowly turns, somewhat hoping it’s not who he thinks it is yet knowing at the same time. “Jaeger.“

“What the hell are you doing? You can’t run in a grocery store.”

And there he is in the flesh; Eren Jaeger, the hobo-looking microbiology major that for some reasons girls (even stone-cold Mikasa) love to swoon over. Not that he cares, really. What’s more important is the fact that he’s in full customer service garb: plain jeans with lanyard string sticking out of the front pocket, blue vest, retractable name tag.

And Jean can’t help the laugh that bubbles out of his chest.

“What the hell are you laughing at?” Eren mutters, damn well knowing why.

“What, no ‘hello, sir?’ Aren’t— aren’t you supposed to be asking if I need help finding anything? Sir?” The old lady in the soup aisle is staring at him as he devolves into a full cackle.

Eren’s scowl deepens. “That’s low, Kirschtein, even for you.”

“Stop being such a pissbaby. I’m only laughing because it’s you.”

“Romantic.” Rolling his eyes, Eren shoves his hands into his pockets. “Speaking of which, don’t you have someone waiting for you at your dorm?”

Jean shuts up immediately and blinks. “What?”

“You know, your lover.” He smirks. “Sasha told us all about you two.” He ducks his head to do something on his phone and a second later Jean’s own pings.

aaron yogurt: One image attachment

Raising an eyebrow, Jean moves back against the aisle (away from soup lady’s scrutinizing gaze) before opening it. It’s a screenshot of a groupchat, with the first text being a screenshot from Sasha of what appears to be some texts.

sash: we did it boys

bald idiot: 🔥🔥💯💯‼️🤯🤯🥶🥶🥶🥶

bald idiot: everyone stand up and clap for sasha

sash: ill fucking kill you springer

miks: so are they together now?

sash: UH YEAH DIDNT U READ THE TEXT? JEAN TRANSFERRED HIS SICKNESS. HOW? THEY SLEPT OVERNIGHT IN JEANS DORM. TOGETHR. WITH NOBODY AROUND. ALL MY DOING TYVM. AND NOW THEIR STILL TOGETHEE.

min: That’s inconclusive, Sasha. You can get sick just being near a person.

marc (replying to @/sash): they’re*

marc: besides who would leave Jean there all alone overnight?

me: me

And then the screenshot cuts off.

“Romantic,” Eren drawls.

“Shut up.” Jean makes a mental note to find and perhaps tie Sasha to a rocket.

“Oh, come on. Everyone knows you’re whipped. You’re like a little schoolgirl when it comes to this kind of stuff.” Bringing his fists up to his face, he puts on the stupidest face ever and giggles.

“Fuck off.” Shoving his phone back into his pocket, Jean tries to cover the heat on his face. “Just tell me where the hell you guys put the chicken.”

⋅ ⋆ ─────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────── ⋅ ⋆

The sound of the front door unlocking heaves me out of the half-drowsy phase I’ve been simmering in for the last, what… I glance at the ceiling clock again. Half hour?

“Hey! I’m back!” Every word becomes a little louder as Jean barges down the hall, tosses something into Connie’s room, and appears in the doorway.

“What was that?”

“Huh?”

“The thing you put in Connie’s room.”

His shadow pauses. “Just… something for Connie. Is everything okay?”

I smile. “How the hell did you go to the gym like this?”

Plastic crinkles as he sets the bag down on the ground. “Well,” he says, walking closer, “I was thinking of you. And how much you love my really big muscles.”

My smile cracks wider. “Is that so.”

“Mhm.”

“Were you also—”

“Mmm?”

“—thinking about how pissed I would be—”

He inhales.

“—when I found you?”

His lips curve upward, maybe a little to close to mine. “Maybe a little.”

I tap his thick sleeve. “Go take this big thing off.”

He recoils immediately. “As you wish.” And sheds the coat, dumping it against his chair.

“Are you hungry?”

Fixing his sleeve, he shrugs.

“What do—” my voice cracks as it runs dry— “what do you eat when it’s just you and Connie?”

“Cereal. Bread sometimes.”

“I really expected better from you.”

“I’m healthy.”

I let my eyes drag shut. “Your idea of fighting off a cold is… going to the gym.”

“Healthy.”

“You’re a piece of work.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Do the— does the window open?”

Clothes rustle. “Yeah. But I’m not opening it.”

“It’s hot.”

And he looks back. “You’re sick.”

“Well, I don’t plan to strip in front of you.”

Jean sighs but it only takes a moment for it to turn into a laugh. “Alright.”

I try to swallow but my throat’s dried up between the time I woke up and now. “I’m getting up.”

“Sure you are.”

“I’m thirsty.”

“Aren’t you needy?” he teases. “What do you want? I can get it for you.”

“You’ll burn the dorms down trying to make tea.”

“Since when did you have such little faith in me?”

I crack my eyes open. “Connie told me you tried to stop a grease fire by splashing water on it.”

He’s rolling his eyes. “Your first mistake was believing Connie. He loves to spread misinformation. Especially about me.”

“Okay, Jean.” I shake my hand in his general direction and he takes it, large, warm hand clasping mine. “Pull me up.”

He smiles and leans in to wrap his other arm under my knees, his neck pressing into my face. Muffled, cheap cologne. “What are you doing?”

In one smooth movement, he releases my hand to slide his other arm across my back. Holding me at the anchor points.

“Wait.” Already a sinking feeling drains through my organs. “Jean, wait—”

With a small heave he lugs me off the bed and my arms immediately sling around his neck. “Jean!”

“Hmm?”

“Put me down!” And I would be laughing if not for my throat and the fact that I’m clinging on for dear life.

He looks down at me, still with that smile. “Hmm. No.”

And the way his voice rumbles through his chest into mine as he hums deeply makes me want to explode. I dive my face into the cloth of his sweatshirt, ignoring the strange way my weight is distributed, the chance that something might slip and I’ll fall to my untimely demise.

“You can let go of me.” He starts walking. “I won’t drop you.”

Pushing harder into his chest, I say, “I’m heavy.”

“No, you’re not.” As if to prove himself, he lifts me a few inches higher as he shimmies through what I think is the door. My grip tightens as the pressure on my back and thighs increases. “Okay, you’re choking me.”

“I can’t help it.”

“Relax, okay? I’m strong.“

“Jean.”

“Come on, look at me.”

I have to force myself to meet his eyes.

It’s not just about how high up I am, or how heavy I might be, or how intimidatingly good-looking he is (I definitely look like shit). It’s about the power.

Things have changed since yesterday. Now it’s Jean’s turn to take charge. And just like he did, I’ll have to allow that.

==> new home (slowed), austin farwell

“Do you trust me?“

His words hit like boulders against my stomach and his eyes are so wide as they dig into mine, so willing to accept the outcome yet so full of this new, gentle compassion that I’ve never seen before. A willingness. An invitation. An assurance. A desire.

So many sides of Jean I’ve never seen before have been presented to me in the past day and it makes my head so heavy it might snap clean off my neck and roll across the floor with the other boulders like a macabre marble match.

Do I trust him?

With a final squeeze, I let my hands fall to rest on either side of his chest. He smiles, showing a sliver of teeth.

Of course I do.

I watch his face as we go to the makeshift kitchen. “So you want tea?”

Though he can’t see me nod, he should be able to feel it.

“It’s easy, right? I just boil some water, and then. I.” Seemingly unconscious to the action, he worries his upper lip as he thinks. “We’ll get there when we get there.” He looks back down. “Where’s the tea?”

With a stupid grin I point to the cabinet where I found the tea and Jean lifts me to height — fucking lifts me a good five feet into the air — so I can snatch the tea packets. “Put me down! I’ll kill your arms.”

He lowers me back to waist-chest height. “So that’s the tea.”

I set the box on my stomach. “You— you’ve never used it before?”

“Forget I said anything. Now what?”

“Now, we… are you sure you don’t want to put me down?”

He rolls his eyes so hard I’m surprised they don’t separate like a chameleon’s. “I’m strong. Let me carry you.”

God I want to shut his smirk up so bad but if I’m in no position to reach up and… I don’t know. I’d do something. Arrogant little prick. “Counter.”

Jean obliges and I take the kettle one-handedly, emptying the old water and adding more, enough for two cups again. “You want some?”

“Is there enough for both of us?”

“Yeah.”

“Hit me.”

I hit the plunger on the kettle. “Mugs.”

So we move like this, a strange, inefficient, two-person machine. I nearly drop one of the cups, all the cabinet doors are left open, and nearly a quarter of the milk got spilled because I cut the hole in the milk bag too big.

But we got it done. Like yesterday, I find myself drawing little circles into his back, and again, I have to stop myself. “Are you sure you don’t want to—”

“No.”

“You didn’t let me finish my sentence.”

“I know what you’re thinking anyway.”

What an asshole. “There’s milk all over the ground.”

“I’ll clean it.”

“I can’t drink my tea if you’re carrying me.”

“I think we have a straw somewhere.”

Now it’s my turn to roll my eyes and I smack his back. “At least let me sit. My legs are going numb.”

“That I can do,” he purrs, every word dripping with smug that lands on my face like hot wax. I want to curl into myself as he swings me like a mannequin, placing me on the couch as if I’m made of cobwebs. “Don’t move.”

I’m going to kill him. Cold air presses in on me and I push myself into the rough fabric in a vain attempt to escape it.

Jean returns with both mugs and offers one to me before sitting down on the other side of the couch and taking a sip, recoiling immediately as if slapped. “Hot!” He puts the mug down and hones in on me. “Don’t drink it yet.”

Rubbing the sides of the cup, I soak in the fleeting warmth it offers me. “I’m thirsty, Jean.”

He blinks, putting his hands up as if suddenly unsure of what to do with them. “Uh.” Then he holds them out. “Here.”

Our hands brush as I hand over my beverage. Once, twice, he dips his head forward as if to drink it, purses his lips, and asks, “is it okay if I blow on it?”

I get a little warm inside. “You… don’t have to do that.”

“I’d like to. I mean,” he adds quickly, “if you’re comfortable with that.” Two of his fingers tap the glass in a rhythm known only to himself. I smile a little. Didn’t we literally kiss?

“Okay.”

He flashes me a quick smile in return before puckering and puffing gently, cautiously into the tea, blowing small ripples that lap at the opposite side of the mug but never spill over. I trace a green line on the couch until it disappears over the curve of the back cushion and a shiver abruptly passes through me.

“Jean.”

“Mmm?”

With effort, I wrench myself into a sitting position, spurring him to look over from his delicate task.

“Hey—”

“Sorry. Can I… can I hold you?”

He stops. I stop. “Oh, I— uh.” He rubs the bridge of his nose. “Of course.”

Hesitantly, my arms snake around his closest to me and I lean my head against his shoulder. Feeling the expansion and contraction of his chest with every forced exhalation.

This feels different from last night. That was a necessity. I mean, I couldn’t leave him all alone; he was in rough shape. Not to mention he didn’t want to be alone. Not that he… terribly influenced my decision. No. I did it because I’m taking care of him and nothing more. Like… inserting a catheter. Strictly a necessity.

As for the pill, well. That’s… well, I’m just kidding myself at this point.

Maybe I am a bit in love with him. Maybe I don’t know what to do with myself around him anymore. Should I lean in for a quick peck? Give him a fist bump? Stroke or tousle his hair?

He likes me back, right? He does, right? I mean, the way he looks at me is… different.

Right?

I close my eyes. “Tell me a story.”

“Mmm.” His little baritone hum, deep in his chest; does he know what it does to me? “Tea first.”

Groggily, I open my eyes as the warm brim of the mug presses against my bottom lip and tilts; I open to let the warm fluid run into my mouth. “Mmmh,” I grunt, and he puts the mug away.

“You were saying?” Jean says softly, landing his closest hand over my shoulder, rubbing in circles with his thumb. I look into his eyes and the acidic words forming on my tongue neutralize right there.

“Tell me a story.”

“Let’s get comfy first.”

I let my head fall onto his arm again but he takes my shoulder and gently pushes me onto my back, hovering over me, silhouetted by the light. “Is your neck okay like this?”

My words are but a whisper. “Yes.”

“Okay,” he murmurs as he lies down himself, trapping me between his warm body and the back of the couch. It’s small piece of furniture; Jean’s visible leg hangs over the other armrest and he probably has the other on the ground.

“Isn’t that uncomfortable?”

His breath hits my face as he speaks. “It’s okay.”

My eyes trace up the curve of his body, up to his face which is so close to mine we might as well be touching, and he smiles again, and this time I can see how it lights up his entire face; the way his skin stretches, the way his eyes get a little smaller. If I really focus, I can see my own reflection.

“What kind of story do you want?”

“Whatever makes you happy.”

Our gazes don’t break as he pauses, and when he speaks, his voice fills the air between us, vibrating every molecule. “When I was a kid, my mom would tell me stories.”

“Mmm-hm.”

“They were always about my dad. And I never really understood why she told me these stories.” He breathes out in amusement. “I’d get so… irritated. Asked her why she always told me stories about the guy that didn’t — doesn’t — even care about us.”

As he speaks, his focus wanders, but always lands back on me. I reach for the arm that rests at his side and pull it in between us. He watches the whole time but doesn’t shrink away.

“And she would always say that the memories they had together were real, even if it didn’t turn out in the end. And I’d tell her he’s just a deadbeat and that she shouldn’t care about him.”

“Mmm.”

“And then I met you.”

I can’t help it. I smile again.

“And then I just… understood. How it’s the little moments you hold on to the most.” And he grins.

“Maybe,” I murmur, swiping my thumbs over his warm, fleshy palms, “it’s the other way around.”

He blinks. “Maybe.”

==> dreamcore, daniel.mp3

I bring his hand up to face level, examine the veins that splay out beautifully under his skin, weaving between tendons, plunging deep into the muscle and bone and fat. “Tell me one of your mom’s stories.”

It takes a moment for him to think. “It was after high school. Their last summer together. He was going into fine arts and she was going to study medicine.”

“Mmm.”

“But that night, long after the sun went down and the birds stopped singing, they were just walking around aimlessly. Nothing to do except enjoy each other’s company, I guess.”

Something shifts in his tone as he lapses into the narrator’s perspective.

“But even though they were spending time together as usual, both were thinking about how one day, very soon, they were going to move to opposite sides of the country and maybe never see each other again.”

“But they did see each other again, right?” His skin burns against mine. “They had you.”

“Well, not exactly.” His hand suddenly gains life, flexing lightly. “That’s the summer I was… conceived.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah. Needless to say, I’m not super close with my grandparents.” He purses his lips and now he’s looking at his fingers. “That’s an entire story on its own. Anyway. They were walking together at night, fearless to whatever was in the dark. Only their own futures.

“And while they were walking it suddenly started to rain. My mom said it came out of nowhere, like a bucket of water was poured on their heads. So they did what any other person would do.”

“Go home?”

“Run to the park.”

“Sounds like something you’d do.”

“Shush, you… They ran for the park like their lives depended on it, but they were soaked by the time they got there. So they decided to have a picnic in the pouring rain. And they stayed there until the rain stopped and the birds started singing again.”

“What happened after?”

“Well, by the time she got to that part in the story, I fell asleep.”

I huff lightly. “Finish it for me.”

After some hesitation, he speaks again. “When the birds started singing, they noticed a strange person in the trees. It appeared to be a man in a fedora.”

I crack my eyes open, not realizing they shut in the first place. “A fedora?”

“Fedoras are cool!”

The worst part is, I can imagine him wearing one.

“Stop laughing.”

“Sorry.” Without thinking, I use his hand to cover my mouth. “Continue.”

“The— the man in the — hat — approached the two. And he asked them if they’d seen his notebook anywhere. It was a sketchbook, he said, and he liked to draw birds. They said no, so he kept moving on.

“Truth is, he didn’t use it to draw birds. He liked drawing people.”

I hum.

“People were everywhere, and every one looked so different. Every mark and wrinkle was a testament to their way of life. He’d examine people’s faces for so long, he could see things that others couldn’t. He noticed things that the faces’ owners didn’t.

“He’d bring that little sketchbook everywhere, drawing every face that he saw, beautiful, ugly, short, long. And after a while of doing this, he realized that, despite all faces being slightly different, they were all the same, too. They were all strangers in his life, predictable. Every face followed a… a pattern. He couldn’t quite put it into words.”

I give his hand a small squeeze.

“One day, he went to the cafe. And of course, he brought his sketchbook with him. He sat on a barstool near the corner of the restaurant, right in front of the big window, and started sketching the people walking outside. When the waiter came up and asked what he wanted, he asked for a coffee.

“He didn’t look back up until the waiter returned, and when he looked into her face to say thank you, he noticed something strange.

“It was pretty, the most beautiful face he’d seen in his life, and he’s seen a lot of faces. It wasn’t just her face, though. It was her mannerism, her tone of voice, the way she stirred his drink a little so the grounds and sugar wouldn’t sink all the way to the bottom and the way she asked if there was anything else that she could do for him, as if the question was truly asked out of her heart and not just because she’s getting paid to… this person, at that moment, broke the pattern.”

⋅ ⋆ ─────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────── ⋅ ⋆

When I wake up, the Cars blanket is draped over me. Music plays over the sound of the sink running, and if I listen close enough, I can hear Jean humming along. Dishes clash.

“Shit!”

I must have fallen asleep with my mouth open, because now my throat is so dry it takes an effort to swallow. Slowly, I sit up and lean forward to take a sip of (cold) tea, but it doesn’t do much for the wheeze in my lungs. Jean starts singing softly with the chorus.

“And don’t go there ‘cuz you’ll never return…”

Standing there, washing dishes like a maniac and singing. The strands of his voice, like a bobbing needle, weave between the guitar and bass, and at times it’s hard to differentiate them at all, the tangle of melody and tempo. I melt into the sound, dissipating into thin air. Almost forgetting how much harder it became to breathe.

“Then you did something wrong and you said it was great…”

I stand at a snail’s pace — not avoiding the sudden pressure in my head as I do so — and drag myself into the kitchen.

There’s a dishcloth slung over his left shoulder and his hair’s tied up with — I check my wrist — my hairtie. Seemingly careless of his crime, he nods his head slightly with the music, biting his upper lip in concentration. I wouldn’t forgive him if he didn‘t look so…

at ease. Loose?

Happy.

The sink suddenly spits water at him, drenching his already-wet sweatshirt.

“Ugh.” And now he looks up. “Oh.”

I smile as the singer reaches a high note and Jean hurriedly shuts off the tap.

“Alexa, stop. What’re you doing up?” The music cuts and he rushes to my side in an instant, cupping my shoulders as if expecting I’ll collapse. There’s a spoon in his hand and it drips on the ground. “You’re supposed to be sleeping.”

“I was sleeping.” His top-knot sticks out and it’s just begging for me to touch it. “You have a… beautiful voice. By the way.”

He eyes the ground, reddening. “Yeah, yeah.”

Without thinking I tap his cheek. “Let’s cook,” I say. “I’m hungry.”

Jean blinks, touching the area of impact. “Cook?” He stirs again when I snatch the dishcloth from his shoulder. “Wait! No, you’re sick!” But I’m already in the kitchen.

“Oh, you… put the groceries away?”

“I’m not a barbarian. Sit down.” He tosses the spoon in the dish strainer. “Let me cook.”

“No, Mr. White.” I clear my painful throat.

“Ha, ha. Sit down, okay? Do you want me to bring a chair over?”

When he touches my shoulder I turn. “Jean, really.” But my voice is small, and it betrays me, the familiar weakness sapping at my muscles and limbs. “If I have to eat another… butt-end almond butter and cheese sandwich I’m really gonna lose it.”

==> farewell, erikson jayanto

His jaw clenches and unclenches. “Okay. Fine. But I’m helping you.”

“In that case.” I use the cloth to wipe up the water around the sink. “Chopping board. Please.”

“On it.”

“Knife?” Cloth hangs over the tap.

“Yep.”

Taking an extra deep breath in an attempt to sever the strings binding down my lungs, I joke, “don’t kill me.”

He takes the utensil in a stabbing pose. “No promises.”

I bat his arm aside, to the counter. “You know how to cut vegetables, right?”

“Yeah, I know how.”

As he rummages in the fridge to make himself useful, I rinse the rice in a definitely overqualified patterned bowl, nearly falling asleep as my hand draws lazy circles in the warm grains. I’m done in time to see him cut up a carrot — attempt to, at least. He sticks the knife in at bizarre angles and intervals, creating weird orange blocks that skid away from the board after every uneven chop.

“Jean.”

“Eh?” His voice is muffled because he’s biting his lip again. It’s painfully obvious that he’s never done this before.

“Did you peel it?”

“I told you, I’m not barbaric.”

I wrap a hand around his left hand — his chopping hand — and lift it above my head. Jean is silent as I push into the space between his body and the counter and put his arm back to lock myself in. He doesn’t budge as I lean heavily back against him. “Like this.” And I grab the backs of his warm hands like computer mice and awkwardly move them into a good position.

His every breath presses against me, chin resting on top of my head, and if I lean just right I can feel his heart race against my back.

And the heat. Maybe it’s just the sickness raising my body temperature, but it burns where we touch.

“Cut.”

He does, muscles and tendons going rigid under my grip as he puts his weight on the blade. The carrot slice rolls away and falls off the counter, but Jean catches it. “Aha.” His voice a vibration in his throat. “See that?” He brandishes it in front of me like a trophy.

“Yes, Jean, very impressive.”

We position ourselves again. Jean lets me set his hand at an angle so the tip of the knife leans down. “Try cutting. At an angle.”

He does, requiring little help from my guiding hand. The carrot slice stays on the cutting board. Amused, I twist to look up at his face.

Jean looks shocked as if I caught him doing something heinous and his skin reddens like he’s just been blasted with four hours of unadultered sunlight. His mouth becomes a smile despite it all. “Ma— uh, magical.”

It’s like this for a few seconds before I turn back to our work. “Let’s finish.”

What are you doing to me?

It turns out Jean is quite the natural; after just a few more tries he can use the knife on his own, and I’m just decoration. If you think about it, cooking is a kind of art. And Jean is good with his hands.

I stick with him, though.

“Any pots?”

“Mmm. We have one under the stove.”

“Another gift from Reiner?”

He scoffs lightly. “That was a one-time thing.”

I reach backwards for his arm and end up tapping his bicep. “Pot.”

He detaches from my back and I suddenly realize how cold the air is — it’s like a warm blanket was thrown off me. I lean against the counter. The pot of choice, a great red thing that looks like it’s never been used before, is plopped on to one of the burners and Jean immediately wraps around me again. Delirious heat.

“Thanks.”

“Now what?”

“This way.” I shuffle us over to the stove, stepping on his feet a few times, and turn the element on. “We put the rice in.”

Jean’s on it, taking the bowl and unceremoniously dumping in the rice.

“Not yet!”

He recoils. “Oh, oops.”

Shit. Knowing it’s going to hurt, I swallow anyway. “It’s okay.” I grin reassuringly, though he can’t see it. “Just need to stir.” Grateful for his presence, I search the drawers for a spatula — a nice wooden one — and hand it to Jean.

“Me?”

“Think you can do it?”

He takes it, grasping the pot handle, and pushes the rice around the pot. “Like this?” he asks, not noticing the jab. Just dripping with innocence. I feel bad.

“Perfect.”

“How long?”

“Until you feel like it’s done.”

His chest undergoes a sudden compression as he huffs and I realize just how much I’m leaning on him. “And how do I know that?”

I shrug.

So Jean stirs.

“Hm?” he says when I nudge him after a while.

“Add the broth now. And carrots.”

He hums. We turn in tandem so he can fetch the former from the fridge and I watch as he pours it slowly.

“That’s enough.”

As Jean inhales deeply his beard scratches my cheek; he’s bringing his head down to my level. I turn to meet his gaze and smile. “What?”

His eyes flutter to my chin and back.

“You want something?”

He doesn’t stop boring into me, swirling something deep in my gut like a witch’s brew. “I dunno.”

“I do.” I tilt my head up at the slightest angle to afford him a better view and his eyes widen. “You want the carrots. In the pot.”

There’s a little tic in his expression. Like he wants to engulf me, pull me deep into himself. But he just breathes, “right.” And dumps the carrots.

Stirring…

“Are you tired?”

“No.” I clear my throat again and it takes a while for the phlegm to go away fully. My feet shuffle back in an attempt to support myself, to no avail. “Bought chicken?”

“Yeah.”

“Let’s tear some of it.”

==> october, adrián berenguer

The spatula clicks against the stovetop as Jean puts it down. “Wait.” I turn to meet him, backing against the hard edge of the counter, and the world turns to mush before I gather my bearings. “Wait,” he repeats, softer, putting his hands down on either side of me, locking me in place. “I need to say something.”

“Jean?” Skin turning cold where we once touched. Knees loose. Breath heavy and laboured. I latch onto his gaze and stay there. He is quicksand, sucking me in deeper with no bottom in sight, and I’m powerless to it, to the shifting grains and the lashing wind, the indefinite maelstrom of everything built up and unsaid. Until he says it, and the storm stills.

“What… are we?”

My breath is loud; every one another closer to the answer. The witch’s brew is long since tipped over, seeping its uneasy juices into my bones and muscles and tendons, rendering me feeble and invertebrate.

What are we?

“What do you want… us to be?”

A heartbeat of pause. His voice is soft but confident and takes over my every sense, light filtering into dark, soup into ice, pain into numbness. “More than this. More than what we had before.”

My hands gravitate to cover Jean’s and brush up to rub his forearms, right before the wrists, and I can see the terror that he holds, the possibility of abandonment that he keeps framed up and hung away in a little corner of his mind.

“Like now?”

His eyelids shut, separating us for a few seconds before he opens them again. “No.” And he lowers to my height. “Not like this. I dont— I don’t want any more second-guessing. No more in-betweens. I just— I need to know if we’re together or if we’re just…” He does that thing with his lip again. “I can’t do it anymore. Wondering how close I should be walking beside you, if I should offer you my chair or share it, if— if you’ll ever think of me the same way I think of you.” Despite swallowing, his voice wavers still. “I really think highly of you. I mean, I just— I— sometimes.” The last word is uttered with a small sigh as if he’s accepting defeat.

“Sometimes I feel like you’ve taken me over completely. It sounds stupid, I know, I… When we’re all together, I’m always… thinking about you. If you’ll like this thing. What I should say to make you laugh. God, I love your laugh. There’s just something… about… you… that makes me want to be by your side, and when I’m not, it doesn’t feel right, I didn’t know what right felt like until I met you. When I— I… looking at you just makes me really, really happy, and I’ve never really felt like this before. Never felt so ready to do anything, absolutely anything for a person.” He inhales deeply. “I’m— it’s hard for me to describe how I feel, but in the end I just know.

“I’m in love— I’m in love with you, the way you walk, your voice, the way you’re always looking around, everything that you think is a flaw and… I don’t want to play this game of in-between anymore because this, not knowing how you feel, is killing me. If you— you don’t have to say yes. I just need to know. What are we?”

What are we?

The frame is broken, fallen off its hook, glass shattering on impact as the wooden body collapses and snaps in on itself. Cutting countless tiny holes torn into the fabric guise of courage. Hands trembling against my sides.

The answer I want to give him is there, a vibrating and incomprehensible bundle of warmth and devotion and tenderness that is utterly unattainable behind the metal barrier of the spoken word, as much as it beats and bores into the confines of its enclosure. How much longer?

They say that eyes are the windows to the soul. It’s more like a well. Dark, deep, secretive of what lies inside behind its deceptive beautiful adornments.

But if I let myself go, if I allow myself to hang over the stone ledge and slip in to see for myself, despite the fear of hitting the cold, lonely bottom…

My hand cups his cheek and he tilts his head, leaning into it.

“Jean.”

He says my name back, just as tender, twice as fearful, and the unfamiliar frequency twinges a string in my consciousness. I open my mouth.

“How you managed to fall for me is… it’s beyond me. You’re smart, you’re strong, you’re talented… To me, you’re about as attainable as a star.”

He shakes his head tightly but I continue as he inhales to speak, hints of his voice catching the air through his throat.

“You might not think so but you’re… whenever I’m with you I just feel like everything is going to be okay in the end.” My chest burns and my voice falters. “You make me feel safe. When I imagine our future together, I’m— we’re always happy.”

If I wasn’t touching him I would never notice the small nod of gentle encouragement he gives, so much hope piled onto such a tiny movement.

“And it’s been eating away at me, because every time we look at each other I have to wonder— I have to stop and ask myself if you really like me back too.”

His eyes widen. My pulse races through my body; he can probably feel it through my hand. The truth, that’s all it is, comes pouring out unrestricted, a torrent of words tearing through my soul.

“What are we? That’s a silly question. We spend time with each other and care for each other. We share our food and our beds. You passed an important test last month and I brought everyone over with cake to celebrate, and you know my schedule so you always come to the cafe when I’m working.” I puff in amusement. “And it’s when I least expect it, too. We share so many playlists it isn’t even funny anymore, because you influenced my taste in music so much.”

“You’re the one who influenced me,” he says with a small smile.

“Frankly, I’m in love with you, and— and you’re in love with me.” I sway on my feet and put my other hand to his face to steady myself. “We know that now. We know that, so isn’t that enough? We’re two people in love, who act like they’re in love, who know they’re in love… Has anything really changed?” My peripheries go blurry. “Can’t we figure it out from here? No labels?”

“No labels.” A smile is cracking his face, skin pulling beneath my palms as his eyes crinkle, shattering the restrictive veil he wears and painstakingly paints on every morning. “We’re us. You’re right. Nothing’s changed at all. Just two people in love.” His grin widens. “Just… us.”

I smile too, I smile until my face hurts and I start giggling, but Jean is right there with me, unable to help the laughter that rings around his ribcage with a melody that is uniquely his. I let my head drop and he closes the distance between us, pulling me deep into himself, and it’s like an invisible film wrapped around me has been popped for the first time. We’re hugging for the first time. We’re touching for the first time. Unrestricted. Without fear.

Two people in love.

My laughs soon turn into coughs and the illusion is broken. Jean steps back, still pinning me against the counter.

“You want more tea?”

I scan the kitchen. “I don’t suppose Reiner got you guys a microwave?”

“I’ll make more.”

“But—”

“No buts. You trust me, don’t you?”

“Yes,” I say before the clamouring in my mind.

“Go lie down. I’ll finish up here.”

I turn my head up and a string in my neck suddenly starts to burn, halting the action. Stiff neck. I look down at his socks.

“You sure?”

His hands enter the picture and take mine. “Let’s get you to bed, okay? Granny?”

“You know what? Just take me to the gym.”

He hisses through his teeth. “Okay, I get your point. I’m sorry.”

Pot bubbling away in the background, we make it to the bedroom. I roll onto Jean’s criminally soft covers and he drapes the quilt over me, trapping me in my own heat.

“Go to sleep, okay?” His voice is a soft rumble, sandpaper fleece.

“Okay, father.”

“I don’t want to see the lights on when I walk by,” he adds, sternly.

“Or what?”

His dark form pauses, then leans down against my ear. “Sleep.” And he plants his lips against my hot cheek before withdrawing.

⋅ ⋆ ─────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────── ⋅ ⋆

me: @/chismosa

me: sash

me: wya

chismosa: im at the store

me: ??? i thought we were meeting at urs?

chismosa: change of plans! eren said jean came in whilw he was working soo

chismosa: just wait there. shave ur head or sth

chismosa: dont use my razor tho

me: .

me: ur lucky my phones abt to die or i woukd call nd cuss u out

me: im just gonna go back to mine

chismosa: wait

chismosa: cons

me: phobe dying

chismosa: CONNIE NO

⋅ ⋆ ─────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────── ⋅ ⋆

When the spoon clinks against the bowl my head nearly splits open. My mouth is dry because my nostrils are plugged and everything inside me feels warm and centrifuged. I try to breathe in through my nose, fail, and end up coughing instead.

“Oh—” Jean drops his book— “are you awake?”

“It got worse,” I croak.

He smiles wryly. “Yeah. It’s pretty bad.” The sketchbook on the ground skids under the bed when he kicks it as he stands. “You hungry? Thirsty? Hot?”

I shut my eyes, not daring to move. “Just want to sleep.”

“You should eat something.”

“I don’t wanna puke.”

“You won’t puke.”

“You did.”

“That’s my own fault and you know it.” He reaches for something on the nightstand and produces a bowl. “You should at least try it. Please?” With the disposition of a kid trying to show off a cool drawing that he made.

“You finished making it?” I start to lift my head but Jean lunges forward.

“Wait! Let me.” He reaches over my lap for the pillows on the other side and works on propping them up against my back, chest against my face. Maybe I’ll pass out again.

“Jean?”

“Hm?” He returns to his original position, cradling my back. “Lean back now.”

I do and it’s just like yesterday, except our positions are switched. “Your hair is so pretty.”

“Oh.” A wavering smile takes over him. “Really?”

==> parfum d’etoiles, ichiko aoba

He leans in when I beckon and lets me brush away the silky-soft strands that fall onto his face, gently pressing them back into the main mass of his hair with the backs of my fingernails. His hair. How long have I dreamed of doing this? Seeing the way it catches the sunlight to flare a molten gold during sluggish fall afternoons at my dorm, how the wind picks up strand after delicate strand as we walk through campus on the way back from the cafe, the way it always sticks to the back of his shirt when he turns his head. Something as unreachable as the reciprocation of my love. And yet… “So beautiful.”

He dips his head a little so I focus on his mini-ponytail—

“Ponytail,” I muse out loud, grinning. “Horseface and ponytail.”

At this he looks up indignantly, undoing all my work. Betrayal weighing on his brow. “You did not.”

“Oh—” my finger, entranced and with a mind of its own, traces his hairline, “—but I did.”

He scoffs as if it’s the only thing he can do and turns his head to the side, not hiding the heat that shows and radiates from his face as I stroke the strands over his ear. He eases down onto his elbows on either side of my body and he plays with his hands on my stomach. My thumb never leaves his skin, tracing his delicately shaved beard from the curve of his jaw down to his chin, and I use this position to pull his face toward me. Feeling his pulse, feeling the way the soft skin under his jaw moves as he swallows, inhales, opens his mouth with a small wet sound and speaks right into me.

“You’re beautiful.”

I want to cry.

Despite feeling like death, despite the mouthbreathing, despite the greasiness of my hair…

Jean’s gaze is unveiled, blazing with all the fondness and revere previously hidden and locked away, an unsurmountable number of words press-printed and bleeding onto millions upon millions of honeyed pages but never bound, never shut away from the sunlight and the sky and the polished wood shelves, blowing, scattering in the wind. I just might wither away under it all if I wasn’t looking back at him with just the same intensity. Locked in a silent competition neither of us will ever win.

“You’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen.”

“Jean,” I say ever so lightly, only forming the shape of his name of his tongue as I exhale.

He blinks a few times and the mattress tilts as he reaches under the frame and pulls up his sketchbook, settling on the edge of the bed. It’s about the size and shape of a placemat, bound in black leather with a stiff metal coil binding it together. He flips through the heavy cream pages with experienced ease, squishing the flesh of the hand that holds it open. I can stare at his hands all day. The hairs that sprout near the wrists, the thick, sturdy fingers, the laced veins that bulge when he brings them down to his side but are always, always visible, the way the skin folds and creases at the joints, the white-hot tendons that decorate his knuckles and poke up when he flexes, the soft and jagged way he cuts the white of his fingernails, the warmth, the padding of his palms. The power that lies dormant in his muscles under every gentle movement. I want them forever to hold and cherish and cuddle. Among other things.

He finally finds the page he’s looking for and he folds the sketchbook in on itself on its metal hinge to flatten it. He taps his fingers against the back, a soft pitter-patter like rain.

“Are you going to show me?”

Face contorting slightly, he says, “it’s not finished.”

“So?”

“It doesn’t… exude you.”

I smile. “Exude?” But he’s lost in his mind, lost in the lines interwoven in shapes and shadow on the page that are supposed to constitute a greater picture.

“Qu’est-ce que…” he mutters, not to me, not to anyone. Without looking he picks up a pencil from the nightstand and lays a few more strokes onto the paper. The graphite scratches the bumpy composite, seemingly at random at first, but Jean’s movements soon fall into a rhythm. Every once in a while his eyes flicker from the page to me and I meet him every time.

I don’t know how long we sit here, soaking in the comfortable silence, but he eventually breaks the illusion by leaning back and swiping the eraser crumbs off. “I don’t like it,” he says with a note of finality.

I’m almost asleep. “Mm— show me.”

“No…”

His face disappears behind my hand, which makes a pinching motion. “Jeaaan.”

He sighs; reluctantly, he offers the whole book to me and stares through the window (curtains still drawn). I flip it over to see and—

I blink away the gunk that doesn’t exist and hold the page back so it catches the dim light from the hallway better. “Did you just do this?”

It’s… me. It’s me in his bed, hair splayed, eyes half-lidded yet still staring through the page, features lit from on one side and bleeding into the shadowy graphite at the other. Pinned up and immortalized in this very moment by his own hands, every stroke with a purpose.

“I know, the composition is off and the lines aren’t harmonizing.”

“Harmonizing? Jean, this is beautiful.”

“Hah?” He clambers to the empty spot beside me so we can both look. “No, look, I messed up right…” he points with the worn-down eraser end of his pencil. “There. And there, and—”

I swat it away. “I don’t even know what you’re talking about. Don’t you realize how good this looks? I mean—” holding the portrait up next to my own face, I smile. “See?”

“Not the same,” he groans. “Everything’s—”

I stick the side of my finger against his teeth and he recoils into the pillow. “What!” He pries me off, gripping my forearm with virtually no pressure. “What was that for?”

“Whatever you think, I love it.” I clear my throat. “Thank you so much, Jean. I mean it.”

He pauses. “Well, I’m— I’m glad you like it. Expect more.”

“More?”

His eyelids flutter; hesitantly, he takes some of my hair and twirls it in his finger. “I can’t help myself.”

Some of the heat in my core rises to my face, but it’s okay, so I don’t bother turning away.

“One day I’ll get good enough to draw you for real.”

Draw me for real? As far as I’m concerned, he’s always drawing me, conjuring up a little image of me in his mind every time my name is brought up. That’s enough. That’s more than enough.

“Are you ready for soup now?”

“I’m tired. I don’t wanna move.”

“When did I say you have to move?”

It’s easy for him with his stupidly long limbs to climb over me and stand again. He takes the bowl on the nightstand and hooks his chair with his foot, dragging it forward before sitting. “It’s still a bit warm, okay?” he says, stirring the mixture.

“That looks good.”

He looks up briefly to smile. “Thanks. I found a recipe online.”

“You should get into cooking.”

He shrugs and holds up the spoon, bowl close underneath to prevent spillage. “Aah.”

I take it. The metal clicks uncomfortably against my teeth but the food is warm and good. “This is good,” I declare when my mouth is empty. “Do you really not cook that often?”

“Nope. Aah.”

I chew and swallow. “When do I get my pill?”

Jean looks like he’s choking for a second. “Uh— what, do you want it right now?”

“Sooner the better, I guess.”

He blinks, then takes the package of ibuprofen from the nightstand and unwraps a pill, puts the box away, and pinches it in his hand like it’s a precious stone. “Are you sure?”

I raise an eyebrow and hold my hand out. He stares at it, dumbfounded.

“What’s that for?”

“The pill?”

His mouth opens and closes. “Oh.” He gently places the pill onto my waiting palm. “Right.”

“What were you thinking?”

He licks his lips. “Nothing.”

I pop it dry and it hits the back of my throat before disappearing forever. Jean cringes. He’s staring at the ground, knees pushed together to hold the bowl, slightly too big for the chair he’s sitting on.

“Jean.”

“Yeah?” He perks up.

“If you want to kiss me, you can.”

He tenses around the bowl. “No! That’s…” A weak chuckle rolls in his torso. “Uh. Good to— good to know.”

I smile as silence falls between us again and the room teems with potential. He feeds me in silence, gentler with the spoon this time, pushing it against my soft bottom lip and inserting just the right amount not to hit my throat, tilting it up during the exit so my upper lip rides the gentle curve of the metal and scrapes out the meal. Everything with a calculated and smooth movement, as if feeding me is an art.

He really is good with his hands.

Now he has a tissue and holds it up as if asking for permission. I nod; he leans in to wipe some off my face, a soft furrow in his brow, biting his lip. Starting at the corner, pressing into the supple skin and making his way inward, he easily catches the mess, folds the tissue, and does the other side. He finishes off with a small dab and crumples the it, obscuring it completely in his fist. Not moving back.

“Can I have some tea?”

==> i was only temporary 2 u, my head is empty

Silently, he stretches to take a mug off the nightstand, and just like before, pushes the rim against my lip. I tilt back and drink; it’s sweet, almost head-swimmingly so, and liquid smooth.

“Mmh.”

He puts the mug down and one-handedly stashes it back to its spot. Some of the drink had dribbled from the corner of my mouth to my chin and drips onto the sheet, forming a small, dark blotch on the white. When I glance back up, so does Jean, and we lock eyes.

Unreadable.

I don’t notice him get closer until he’s on me, trapping me against the headboard, tracing the path of the tea to the corner of my lips with his own. Not satisfied, he brushes against the other side of my lip and the tip of my nose before stopping at eye level. Taking in a breath before ever so slowly inching forward, sealing off my air. My eyes slip closed.

It’s different this time. He’s hesitant, waiting for me to make the move, so I do, tracing the crescent of his warm, plump lip with my tongue — god, how long have I wanted this? How long have his lips stared back at me? — in an attempt to crack him open, without pattern but with hidden rhythm, just like his pencil. He tastes like overly sweet tea.

His fingers caress my jaw and tangle into my hair as mine do the same, tracing the scrub of his beard, pulling out the hairtie and tossing it before taking the impossibly silken strands in greedy fistfuls, making my blood go loose and coat my guts in something inexplicable that almost makes me lose my focus. The air from his nose tickles my skin and finally he gives, breaking the dam, exploring the surfaces I have to offer as if mapping it out for later with a painful, cautious leisure. Never stopping, always movement: the bristles of his chin occasionally scraping against mine; his hands languidly falling down my neck, pushing me back against the pillows; mine, seizing his collar, pulling as a desperate indication to remove it and to come closer; the dip of the bed as he obliges to the latter, knees locking me in place. As if I would move, despite my racing pulse, despite my heart threatening to slip out of its bony confines and tear my burning lungs—

==> might start singing - sped up, sheldon charlot

The metallic sound of a key grating into the keyhole. Like deer in the headlights we freeze as the key turns, the lock disengages, and the front door swings open.

Jean looks like someone just shot at him; blindly, I swat at the thick muscle between his neck and shoulder until he awkwardly rolls off, ramming into the nightstand with his head in the process. The bowl and mug and clock rattle, nearly drowning out his pained grunt. He lands sitting on the ground and I sit up ramrod straight.

“Jean? That you?”

We peer at each other through the dark, thoughts unspoken, yet still understood. My pulse is on overdrive, for a different reason now.

Connie!

His footsteps get louder as he stomps down the hall; I pull the blanket up (to cover what, exactly?) as Jean shoots onto his feet — slamming his shoulder against the nightstand again — just as his roommate’s shadow fills the doorway to Jean’s room.

“Ugh, you’re gonna kill your eyes, man.” A blinding light pierces as Connie flips a switch. “Can I borrow your charger? I left mine— I left…”

When my eyes adjust, Connie’s staring into me under Jean’s arm. He looks between the two of us as the pieces fall together in his head like a game of jelly Tetris and it’s evident when he figures it out, when all the rows are cleared and the trumpets blare and the screen flashes with confetti, when a grin that’s all too Connie takes over his face. “Oh. You guys have been real naughty while I was gone, huh?”

I start to speak but Jean’s faster. “What are you on about? I was just giving her food.”

Connie raises an eyebrow, skeptical. At the obviously empty bowl, the ruffled covers, our heaving chests and wrinkled clothes, Jean’s hair which is uncharacteristically roughed up and messy and falling all over his eyes. “Yeah.” He smirks at me. “Food.”

Jean swallows.

“Connie,” I say slowly as the last taste of Jean slips away, “you won’t tell Sasha, right?”

“I dunno.” All too gleeful, he leans against the wall, tapping it as if waiting for something. “Will I?”

“You can use Jean’s car for a week if you don’t.”

Said person twitches. “Huh!?”

No stranger to the bargain, Connie narrows his eyes. “A month.”

“Two weeks or no deal.”

“Fine, but I get to decide which days.”

“Wait, when did I—”

“Deal,” I say, cutting Jean off. I shoot him an apologetic look as Connie caws in victory.

“Hell yeah! Suck it!” He points at the owner of said car. “She’s all mine now, Jeanboy!” Then he points at me. “I love you and my lips are sealed forever, okay? This is our little secret. Woo!” He skips down the hallway and picks something up with a jingle before the door opens and shuts and all is quiet.

At a sloth’s pace, Jean reaches for his pants pocket. “My keys aren’t here.”

“I’m sorry, Jean.”

He slumps, leans his butt against the bed, and turns to me like a war widow, voice barely a whisper. “It had to be done.”

“Your car will be fine.” I try to undo some of the damage thoughtlessly wrought upon his hair, smoothing it out. “It’s only two weeks.”

“Knowing Connie, he’s going to spread it out over two years,” he sighs, staring at the wall. “You know he likes to eat in it, right?”

Saying nothing, I keep stroking his hair, tracing my his scalp with my fingertips, and he leans in to my shoulder.

⋅ ⋆ ─────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────── ⋅ ⋆

“Connie?” Sasha says when he pulls up outside the store, hiding her fingers from the bitingly cold air by shoving them in her coat pockets. “What are you doing here?”

“More importantly, what’s he doing in Jean’s car?” Eren adds, in the process of pulling up his hair into a bun. “Did you kill him, Connie?”

“I struck a bargain,” Connie says smugly. “You guys want a ride, or what?”

Sasha blinks. “You saw them together and they agreed to let you use Jean’s car as long as you kept quiet about it.”

“Nuh-uh!” the driver bursts as Eren nods.

“Adds up.”

Connie’s grip around the wheel tightens. He won’t— he can’t let his dream ride slip from his hands so quickly. “Sasha, no! I just let him use— I mean, he let me use his car if I did all his laundry for a month.”

“Really?” his best friend muses.

Frantic, he nods.

She scowls. “Don’t give me that crap, Constance Springer.” Trace puffs of steam appear at her rapid spew of words. “You don’t even know how to do laundry.”

“I do so! I Youtubed it!”

“Bullshit.”

“Woman, nuh uh!”

“Can I go now?” Eren drawls, almost immediately drowned out by their combined bickering. He sighs, putting the finishing touches on his bun, and traces the leafy skyline.

So they really did get together. He didn’t think Jean had it in him. Casually, he taps his pocket, the bunched-up lanyard underneath.

Sasha had grilled him constantly though the store as he did his rounds, even following him to the employee-only area. Hell, she stood outside the bathroom waiting for him when he tried to hide for his break. There was just no escaping her.

“What did he buy?”

“Like, soup stuff.”

“What’s the first thing he said?”

“My name?”

“Did he mention her?”

“No.”

“Do you have a receipt?”

“No.”

And so on and so forth. She asked for Jean’s grocery haul maybe a hundred times, and he answered every time with the same mind-numbing ingredient list. Every. Single. Time.

A small smile lights his face. He didn’t tell her everything, though.

As much as he wanted to mention Jean’s embarrassingly poor attempt to hide the box with his body from Eren’s prying eyes at the checkout, he thought better of it, because then she’d really go off the hook. That, and he wants Jean to owe him. He covers his mouth before the others notice his growing smile at the memory replaying in his mind. Condoms? Really? Does Jean not trust Connie enough to use some of his? More importantly, does he really think he’ll be using them? Truly?

Eager beaver.

“Don’t tell them, okay?” Connie says, already defeated. “Or else they’ll take this car away…”

“Don’t you realize, Connie? It doesn’t matter who I tell because soon enough they’ll be walking around in public holding hands and all that. So your leverage is basically null.”

He stares forlornly at the little Sanrio charm hanging from the rearview mirror. “When did you get so good at this?”

“That’s just common sense.”

Sighing, he rests his forehead on the steering wheel. “Well,” he says without looking up, “you guys wanna go for a long drive?”

⋅ ⋆ ─────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────── ⋅ ⋆

writing confession scenes kill me in every physical metaphorical and metaphysical way you can imagine. thats some psychic damage right there. despite that, i love writing

seems we cant escape the inevitable kiss scene! i tried to switch it up this time. not a huge fan of recurring plot and all but i think in circles sometimes. like a dying fruit fly

about that epilogue -- i dont think i'll be employing those for a while. or maybe i will. who knows?

masterlist part 1 - two ibuprofen

#jean kirschtein fanfiction #jean kirschtein x reader #jean kirstein x reader #jean kirstein fanfiction #aot fanfiction #attack on titan x reader #pushable #pushs oneshots

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asmutwriter · 5 months ago

Text

You Saved Me (Part 14)

DESCRIPTION: (Season 11) Late one night you get an unexpected phone call

WORD COUNT: 1912

From Beginning / Previous / Next / Master List

WARNINGS: swearing, just pure fluff

DISCLAIMERS

- This is fiction. Please always talk to your partner before doing anything and make sure they are ok with what you are doing beforehand

You unlock your front door. Locking it again behind you as you place the keys onto the hook. Hearing a soft humming coming from the living room. You walk in. The two girls curled up under a blanket on the sofa. The two of them watching a film “Sorry I'm so late back. Had a problem at work that meant I had to stay overtime”

“Its ok mum. We ordered a Chinese. Left some of it for you in the fridge” Anna says, tilting her head to look at you. You smile. Going over and kissing the top of her head

“You two done you’re homework?” they nod “oh you guys are so good. I’ll be in in a second” you smile at them as you go into the kitchen. Grabbing out the left overs and heating it up. Then joining them in the living room as they watch their film. Once it finishes they slowly make their way to bed. Lydia having a quick shower as Anna packs her school bag ready for the morning. You make a hot drink for the three of you. Lydia walking in after packing her bag. You pass her the hot chocolate you had made.

"Thanks mum" you smile. Ruffling her hair as she sits at the dining room table.

“I've already said this to Anna but I have a work thing tomorrow afternoon so I wont be able to pick you two up from school. You’ll have to get the bus back”

“I hate the bus”

“I know. I'm sorry. But I can drive you in so we all get a lie in” you smile at her as she chuckles. A few minutes later and you hear the shower stop running water. Anna walking in, towel drying her hair. You pick up her mug of drink. Handing it to her as she takes it. Taking a small sip from the top of it.

"I'm heading to bed".

"Goodnight dear" you say as she turns and heads down the hallway. Hearing her bedroom door shut. Lydia drinks the rest of her drink. Placing her mug on the side. She wraps her arms around you.

"Night night mum. I love you"

"I love you too" you say. Hugging her tightly. She lets go. Skipping to her bedroom. Hearing her gently close the door. You finish your drink. Taking that, and the cup on the side, and placing them in the dishwasher before turning it on.

You do your usual check of the house. Making sure all the doors are locked and secure before retiring to your bed. Getting in you snuggle under the soft covers. Turning the light off. You had just fallen asleep. Managing to have tuned out the world just as you hear a noise. Jumping awake as you hear your phone buzz. Turning on the bedside lamp you pick it up. Not opening your eyes to see who it was. You answer it.

"Hmm?" you answer. Unsure of who would be on the other end.

“Hey Rose” he says. Your eyes open at the voice. Looking at your phone.

“Dean. I wasn't expecting a call from you. Is everything ok?”

“Yeah. I just thought that I should be better at keeping in touch with you. As we always say we will and never do. Thought I'd start the process of it”

“I appreciate that. I do. But this late at night?”

“Its not- shit sorry. Didn't realise how late it had gotten. I’ll leave you to sleep” you shake your head as you rest your head down on pillow.

“No. No its ok. Its nice to hear from you. Like you said, we need to keep in contact more often then we do as we always say we will” a soft chuckle coming down the phone. “Did you have a hunt today then?”

“Yeah. Had a bit of a weird case today and I needed to talk to someone to help clear my head”

“What was the case?”

“A banshee. It really managed to screw with my head today. Quite badly screwed with it in fact. But thats enough about my life. How are you and the girls?”

“They're all good. We had a bit of a ghost problem in our old house so we had to move but that was a few months ago now”

“A ghost problem? And you didn't call me?” you laugh slightly

“I'm a grown up. I can deal with my own ghosts” a soft chuckle coming down the phone

“How did the others react to you having a haunted house?”

“Well... they don't know. Not directly anyway. Lydia kept getting really cold and saying she felt funny. Anna refused to grab anything out of our cupboard as she said she didn't like it. I was the only one who saw anything. So I just said that we had to move. Thankfully they know how I am with staying in one place to long so didn't question it”

“They don't know about the ghost then?”

“They don't know about ghosts period. And I plan on keeping it that way. The less they know about monsters the better”

“I agree with you on that” you rub your eyes slightly. Standing up you wrap your dressing gown around you as you head to the kitchen. You don't register that he was talking to you as you walked until you hear him say your name “Kat?”

“Sorry. I'm here. What did you say?” he laughs, you can almost hear him shaking his head

“I asked how long you've been in your new place”

“Oh gosh. Not long. 3 months I'd say” you grab a cereal bar from the cupboard “how long have you lived in your place?”

“We moved in about three years ago”

“Its just you and Sam there right?”

“Yeah. I mean Cas lives with us too but not constantly”

“I've not heard you talk about Cas before”

"Hes just a friend of ours. Hes an angel”

“An angel?" you sit down one one of your dining chairs "As in...”

“Feathers, harps, robes. All that shit”

“I have images of you and your brother being serenaded each morning as you wake by a random man wearing a robe and playing a harp” he laughs

“Sadly not quite that amusing” you chuckle softly.

“That is a shame. I'd pay money to see that”

“I would too” you smile as you finish off your food. Standing up you turn off the kitchen light. Going back into your room you hang your dressing gown on the back of the door before you climb into bed. Sitting cross legged with the duvet over your lower half. “What does he look like then? This angel friend of yours”

“Why? You hoping hes cute?”

“Shut up” a chuckle going down the phone. “I was just curious as to if he looked like how the bible depicts them to look like”

“No. Similar to demons, they posses people so they look like whoever they are possessing. But angels have to ask for permission”

“Oh at least they are keen on peoples consent to be a meat puppet” another soft chuckle down the phone. You smile down the phone

“Thinking of friends, how is... whats his name...” a pause as he thinks. “Mike. How is your boy toy?”

"We umm... we... broke up"

"What? Why? I was just starting to like him!"

"You've met him once. And you looked like you wanted to kill him the entire time". You can practically hear him smile down the phone.

"Why did you break up?"

"I- lets just say that I had a realisation that he wouldn't put my daughters needs first. Which I cant have in a life partner"

"I'm sorry Kathrine. I know you liked him a lot"

"Yeah..." you take in a breath. Running a hand through your hair.

“How is Sam?”

“Hes good. He met someone today that I think hes pretty keen on. Of course he would never admit that” you chuckle softly.

“Of course not” you smile down the phone “How about you? You got any fancy ladies?” he chuckles. Pausing for a little bit before he answers

“I'm very much single” he says, you can hear a smile on his voice

"What happened with Tash? She told me that you had a date night set up?"

"I texted her. We went out for a couple of drinks. But nothing further happened. She had to get back home for her kid" you nod.

"Hes a sweet kid that shes got. You'd like him"

"I'm sure I would" he says. A small smile in his voice.

"I'll offer to babysit one night if you'd like? Let you two have a night alone". You wiggle your eyebrows at the notion. He laughs quietly. There was something about his laugh that could easily light up a room. You mentally shake yourself .

"I think I'm alright. I like her. A lot. But I don't think we're planning on any second date"

"Oh no! Why?"

"Not my type for a long term girlfriend kind of way. And I got the impression that's what shes looking for"

"No... I don't think shes looking for a long term girlfriend" he laughs again. "I know what you mean. Although she likes to have a fling, she does want someone more... steady in her life"

"Sadly I cant provide that for her"

"Its a shame. You two would make a cute couple". Moving under your covers. Stretching your legs out under the soft sheets, hearing Dean let out a muffled yawn on the other end of the line. You chuckle slightly “Am I keeping you up?”

“No. Defiantly not. I did ring you so its me who's keeping you up, surely”

“You aren't wrong. But it is-” you look at the clock on the bedside table “12:06am. So I understand if you’re tired” he laughs slightly.

“I've stayed up way later then this”

“As true as that might be... We cant pull an all nighter”

“And why not?” although the tone in his voice was slightly mocking, the way it sounded made you realise he was asking it as a genuine question as well.

“No we cant. I have work tomorrow. Plus I have to get the girls to school” a soft ‘oh’ leaves his lips. The sadness in his voice making your heart break. You shut your eyes. Trying to think of a solution that meets you both. “I would say that you’re welcome to come round. But its very late and I imagine you wont want to travel far just for the sake of a sleepover”

“I'd like to. A lot actually. But I shouldn't. Too much going on for me to leave in the middle of the night. I really wish I could though. More then you think” you smile softly as you nod

“I understand. You have a hectic life. Saving the world and everything. Cant be easy”

“Its certainly a pain in my ass” you chuckle softly

“Its been lovely hearing from you though Dean. But I really should go to sleep now. Sorry”

“Its ok. I should get some shut eye too” you smile down the phone softly “I’ll see you around Kat” you nod at his statement

“I hope so. Goodnight”

“Night”. Click off. You place your phone down on the side cabinet. Rubbing your hand over your face before settling down underneath the covers.

Previous / Next

TAGS

@sojuxxi

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fidgets-dismay · 2 years ago

Note

Argos casually showing Mr Plant his shrine of him

“Theres the bathroom on the left and oh! On the other side is my shrine of you!”

Mr Plant stops dead in his tracks. He turns around and pokes Argos, a sign for him to repeat it again.

“Oh. I’ve never mentioned the shrine?”

Mr Plant shook his head. Mr Plant never really questioned why Argos was always coming out of that room when he visited. He just assumed it was his bedroom… He’s not exactly an expert on the layout of Argos’ void since Argos prefers to be at his more often.

“Here! I’ll show you it.” Argos grabs his hand, gently pulling Mr Plant along. If this were anybody else, Mr Plant probably would’ve knocked them out by now. But then again, Argos isn’t just another void member. Besides Argos seems excited, whats the worse that could happen?

A lot honestly. But Mr Plant being Mr Plant couldn’t deny an opportunity to make his boyfriend happy.

When Argos opens the door, the room is dimly lit. Theres two candles burning, making the room smell like oranges. It isn’t that strange considering that its Mr Plants favorite smell and favorite food. He does admire how accurate it is. Argos seems oddly proud of it, his smiling growing as he watches Mr Plant explore the room. When Mr Plant actually observes the shrine, its a bit…considering. Mr Plant jumps a bit in shock when he sees just how many photos their are of him. They cover the walls, some being him eating, some being him sleeping and others being him cleaning up crime scenes. Each date is labeled…correctly. The date, the time and the place. Theres a desk underneath the largest photo of him. The heart right next to it. Speaking of hearts, theres a large one on that big photo of him and it smells faintly of blood. Theres also a doll of him, along with matches and an oddly cute knife. Their pet rock, Tack is happily sleeping on the desk. They look well fed, which is the least unsurprising thing in the room.

On the right of the desk, theres a book. A large one in fact, it looks big enough to be a dictionary. Under that book, theres several more. He opens a few and too his surprise its affirmations. Argos was manifesting him?? Mr Plant shakes his head, he looks at the most recent book, confused as to why Argos wrote this. Mr Plant has never understood manifestation. (It seems to have worked for Argos because Mr Plant loves him a lot…) Most importantly, how often did Argos write in this? He looks back at Argos and points to the book.

“Oh! Thats where I do my daily ritual!”

Mr Plant knows better not to ask about it. He does it anyways. Pointing to the book again.

“Do you want me to show you Mr Plant?”

Mr Plant nods.

“Alright!”

Mr Plant immediately regrets it once he sees Argos pick up the knife. He cuts a small wound in the middle of his hand, using the blood to retrace the heart on the large photo of him. He does it shamelessly, humming to myself as if Mr Plant wasn’t there. Argos pulls out a bandaid from his pocket and places it gently on the wound. Next, he picks up a pen and begins writing in the book. To Mr Plants surprise, Argos writes incredibly fast, within 30 minutes, hes got three pages filled.

Mr Plant taps Argos’ shoulder.

“Normally I write about ten pages a day!”

Mr Plant slowly grabs Argos’ bandaged hand, taking the pen out of the other one. He gives his boyfriend a hug before pointing to the door.

“Do you want to watch Tv Mr Plant?”

He shakes his head and points once more.

“Ohhh…You want us to go for a walk outside.”

Mr Plant nods and squeezes Argos’ hand gently. Argos closes the book, gives Tack (their pet) a pat before he happily skips out of the room. After he leaves, Mr Plant pockets the knife, he doesn’t like that part of the ritual. Mr Plant sighs, he’ll talk to Argos about it later.

Mr Plant pulls out his phone, getting a few photos of the shrine before leaving the shrine. Argos is happily waiting at the door for him and Mr Plant smiles. He grabs Argos’ hand once again and they leave his void as Argos rambles about how Tack keeps racing around his room at night.

annnnnnnnddd thats the end! Hope you liked it mewtual!

Heres just a few closeups of the shrine. Jdjfbfndmksksjdbsb

#Mr Plant #twomrp #twomp #I PUT MY HEART AND SOUL INTO THIS #no beta we die like Argos’ therapist #the world of mr plant #mr plant #mr plant x argos #real #ashurgharavi #argos my beloved #fidget writes stuff #new Mr Plant post yall wake up

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lunar-years · 5 months ago

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I think thats why I have a somewhat irrational dislike of Colin- that scene when Jamie came back and the team is yelling the things they want him to apologise for, and you've got Colin acting like he was a poor wronged party this entire time when he was just as bad and skipped out of that blame. At least we see Isaac grow to be a leader, the writers seem to think that Colin coming out the closet/ being gay makes his past behaviour fine?!?

"irrational dislike of Colin" anon please 😭

Short answer: the trouble is they wrote Colin and Isaac as side characters we were meant to only marginally pay attention to, so all the attention/blame went to main character Jamie. Then they decided to give Isaac and Colin more to do, but brushed aside what they'd already done with them as side characters and figured it didn't really matter anyway because probably no one was focused on them (they were wrong) ; first they weren't important enough to spend time on their redemption, and then suddenly they WERE important but their past actions were no longer relevant to who they wanted these two to be as characters.

Long answer: I don't think the writers think Colin coming out of the closet/being gay makes his previous bullying okay, I think they just like, well and truly forgot that they wrote him as a bully. Tbh they did the exact same with Isaac. The switch-up from him being a massive perpetrator of the bullying in s1 to being lovable team captain Isaac is RAPID. It's literally like boom Jamie leaves, so Colin & Isaac are nice again. lmao. HUH?

(in all honesty the first time I watched I was definitely a bit confused that Roy gave Isaac his captain armband, because Roy has such a blatant disdain for Isaac in the first part of the season. Like...that scene where Isaac asks if Roy's going out to the clubs with them and Roy's like "Will you be there? Then fuck no." likeee ngkangk? how did we go from that to "Roy has made Isaac his successor"?? It was very abrupt lmao. Mind you, I adore Isaac & Roy and I think it basically boils down to Roy seeing a lot of himself in Isaac. He hated the aggressive bully version of himself Isaac showed in the locker room but still saw the passion and potential underneath and so he gave him the support he needed. It makes a lot of sense in hindsight. But for all we talk about how good s1 is [and it IS, i would never say otherwise], that relationship didn't really start to develop for the audience until later).

I think the thing that's frustrating to me about Colin (in regards to the fandom, not in the show itself) is that some people quickly woobify him when it comes to being the victim of Nate's bullying but completely ignore that he very much physically and verbally bullied Nate! Both of their actions were reprehensible but a not small part of the fandom loathes only Nate for it. it's the double standard that irks me, which is a running problem I have with this fandom about the treatment of many different characters whoops

#ted lasso #ted lasso critical #Nate Shelley #colin hughes #asks

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bre1995 · 10 months ago

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Fellow Traveler Scenes that make me sad

Hello everyone again!! This post is going to be another lengthy one, but I hope that you enjoy <3

(Yes I know there are a lot of these moments, but these are the ones from pretty much each episode that just shatter me each time)

In episode 1 when Marcus shows up you can see the scared look on Hawks face and then when Marcus is talking about Tim. I know a lot of things went down and Hawk kept his distance, but that doesn't mean he still wasn't scared.

Episode 2 when Hawk is making Skippy write that letter. You know 99% of those words are for Tim and you can see Hawk getting emotional when saying them and when Tim stops writing you know that he realizes that those words aren't just for Mary they are for Tim and that just shatters me.

Episode 3 when Hawk goes to Tim's apartment and even though Mary and Marcus had been telling him how bad things were, Hawk witnessing it for himself completely overwhelmed him and you could see it on his face. Also, when he excuses himself to the bathroom and almost starts crying because he realizes that he will be losing his Skippy sooner than he thinks. Then later in the restaurant when Tim is singing 'Perhaps' he looks at Hawk and some of the words he's singing and the force in which he says them you know are directed at Hawk and then he gets upset when he realizes he has embarrassed Hawk.

Episode 4 When Hawk has to take the lie detector test. Him having to mentally and physically prepare himself so that he can pass. Him lying about loving Tim (which was also was the longest pause of any of the questions), but that is also one of my favorite parts because he was wearing the tie Tim got him for Christmas, but the fact that he had to lie just to be able to keep his job. Just broke my heart, but also talking to Marcus you could tell that he felt completely guilty and broke his own heart. Also, in episode 4 which I know it's in the beginning when Hawk and Tim get into that huge fight and then at the end of the episode he apologizes, but Tim isn't there, but also him saying Skip instead of Skippy. There's just something about it that I can't explain.

Episode 5 Hawk not only breaks his own heart, but Tims too when he tells Tim that he's going to ask Lucy to marry him. When Hawk says that you can SEE it on his face that he doesn't want this to be happening and doesn't want to do it, but he FEELS like it's what he has to do. Also, Tim you can tell was absolutely shattered too and I know that's why he ends up signing up for the army. In this same episode when Hawk and Tim are in the bell tower and Hawk goes "Skippy, I didn't raise my boy to be a soldier." Hawk is so sad, broken, and doesn't want this to be happening. Also, Tim's "promise you won't write." These two love each other so much and it just pains me they can't be together the way they want to.

Episode 6 when Skippy comes to the house and looks in from the trees and sees Hawk with his family. I do love Tims bond with Jackson and the conversation they had about Hawk. In that moment you can tell Tim has no resentment fully towards Hawk at all and understands how he has to love and HOW he loves.

Episode 7 I know the threesome was sloppy and everything, but the small little moments between Skippy and Hawk just make me tear up. When Tim starts rubbing Hawks back and plays with his earlobe like he's always done thats my sign of him saying "I'm here for you and I've got you." The next part in this clip is when Hawk sees Jacksons picture and fully shuts down and starts to panic. Then him starting to break down and apologizing because he feels like he can't cry and Tim tells him its ok and then thats when Hawk fully lets go. Hawks "Let me die." Literally SHATTERS my heart. Hawk is so broken and hurt and that just makes me hurt. But when he full on has the breakdown is when I lost it. You can just see all the pain and anguish on his face. He really did need Skippy. At the end of the episode even though he has no one to blame, but himself, Hawk starting to panic and freak out about Skippy leaving and saying he's free of Hawk really got to him. He felt like he lost him again forever. Then the flash to the present of Hawk at the hospital while Skippy is in the hospital bed. The fear and sadness on his face. But that kiss to the forehead in a public place just makes me tear up so, so hard. It was the first time Hawk had done something like that in a public setting.

Finally episode 8 the one that never fails to make me SOB every time. Tim telling Hawk that he woke up not knowing who he was and Hawk saying "Timothy David Laughlin, that adorable Catholic Boy from Staten Island." Tim returning from the army and reuniting with Hawk (yeah I know that's not sad, but it is special) and him almost getting his dream job. Recommended by Hawk and then skip to the naked slow dance (which is just so beautiful and emotional in itself) you see Hawk so at peace and happy then he's ever been and then Tim says they will be colleagues and see each other every day. You could immediately see the panic and fear on Hawks face. Then you get Hawk turning Tim in and then crying to Mary (rightfully so). Then going to the hospital to see baby Jackson and immediately thats when we and Tim find out why Hawk did what he did, but it doesn't make it any easier. Skip to Hawk climbing into Tim's hospital bed and holding him and Tim saying "I feel like I'm fading away. I'm disappearing a little every day." the way he says it just shatters me (I'm crying even typing it). Then eventually Hawk asking if he owns a tuxedo, them at the gala, and of course Tim's speech to Hawk. "I have loved you my whole life. I've never loved anyone, but you. You were my great, consuming love. And most people don't get one of those. I did. I have no regrets." That whole part of the speech makes me cry every time. Add on top of Hawk's kiss and Tim savoring it and then teasing Hawk like he always does. Tim wiping away Hawk's tears. Hawk telling Tim that he wants to show up for Tim, but Tim (understandably) sends him home. Even though Tim is his home. The "Hey Skippy! Promise you won't write" "I won't" being their last words to each other. My goodness let the tears roll. (Again crying while typing this). Skip to the Aids Quilt and Hawk finds Tims square and Kimberly coming up to him. Hawk trying to hide his tears and then just letting them flow with the quote "Sweetheart, he wasn't my friend. He was the man I loved." *Cue more tears from me* I know it took him until after Tim died to admit it, but I choose to believe that in that moment Tim was looking down and would be so, so proud of Hawk. I'm also glad that he has Kimberly and she's still sticking by his side. But the show ending on that note is so beautiful and heartbreaking all at the same time. I know this was another long one, but I'm so passionate about this show. Please feel free to share your favorite moments or even add to this!! I am up for conversation anytime :)

#fellow travelers #tim laughlin #hawkins fuller #skippy x hawk #hawk x skippy #tim x hawk

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wienners · 7 months ago

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okay for a guy who entirely missed out on emh when it happened. Is there still a way to actually experience it as a complete thing still. seeing as so much of it was hosted on so many different platforms and idk how many of them still exist to be looked at im INTIMIDATED... but i miss slenderman i want to see it. how useful are the nightmind videos on it... help

the nightmind videos are basically the best way to start the series because he compiles all the blog posts and tweets explaining what happened in between each early video, and the highlights of the early livestreams. AND he explains the trials and the packages that got sent out. That includes the highlighted parts of the books in the packages and what that meant for the series. Basically analysis that the fans were doing at the time it was coming out. THAT BEING SAID! There's some videos that he just briefly summarizes or brushes over, and theyre still fun to watch even if theyre less relevant to the overall story.

So tbh i recommend watching the Nightminds, and watching the subsequent videos as he's covering them. I would say from... this video onward ish (its a little bit into part 4 of the explanation videos. watch that for yourself)

The twists and scares are better experienced that way without nightmind over your shoulder explaining whats up. and if youre confused, just go back to the explanation vids! (especially before jim thorpe. there's a lot of shenanigans to explain there) Also once u watch the later vids, you can skip around the explained parts 5-7 bc NM puts a lot of just the full videos in so it goes by faster

ALSO! this playlist is the most complete one ive seen, it has not just the series itself, but the videos of the fans opening the habit packages, the crossover episodes with the other SV series, and the really long discovered audio tapes from the end of the series (which i was there for the discovery of, super cool! :D)

EDIT EDIT EDIT! someone linked me a playlist thats even MORE comprehensive!!

here it is

#everymanhybrid #emh #have fun!!! it's definitely got like a million more layers than marble hornets which i feel u can watch wo the explanations #but this series goes in so many different directions and underlying themes and references and has so much straight up text?#so the nightmind commentary is damn near needed just to understand all this weird subtext happening #but sorry. you do have to sit and listen to nightmind explain the different tshirt colors. its a right of emh passage. sorry #experiencing like. jim thorpe and consensus and moving in as is without the nightmind commentary is more fun #bc those are just some good horror without all the explanations #and i dont wanna say watch NM up until MOVING IN bc i reaaaalllyyy like the stuff leading up to it. dont just skip to habit.#thats like the jojo part skipping and the homestuck act skipping lmfaoo #speakeasies #also in my silly billy opinion u dont need the entire everyman play analysis to watch the videos from :D onward

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theravencawsatmidnight · 2 months ago

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Part Five . Ending

W! Violence

Summary: reader has been trying to escape the trials since she arrived. One night she stumbles along a house that is out of the way . It is occupied by Leland Coyle and he makes a deal with her: keep his house clean with dinner every night and you can stay here.

The ending to my little story. If you read along i hope you enjoyed ♥️

In the morning Coyle woke up first like he always did to see you asleep cuddled up with him, dammit this leaving everyday is pissing him off, leaving you all alone like this.. And last night.. Finally he knew why you had a sudden mood change. You wanted to leave, even if you said you did not want to , he knew you did. You missed the sun, the fresh air… the clouds. The man groaned as he got up and out of the old bed feeling heavy and not up for the day, hopefully it would be over soon so he could get back to you.. Just to do it all again tomorrow.

A bit later you wake up to an empty house, a dark fake sky, and the smell of death lingering all around you. Another day in this place, the never ending trial. Slowly you get up rudding an eye wondering how Coyle is doing, you just wanted him here everyday with you to keep you safe, watch movies with him and ask him to help you sew. With a sigh you dragged yourself downstairs skipping breakfast but still filled out the note asking for basic supplies and pulling in the basket from the previous note, you spent the day sewing some placemats for the table when a knock at the door scared you right to your bones.

Should you?! Who could it be? Why would someone be here?! You were scared, Coyle was not here. “Regent 47? Its Easterman i'd like to talk !” yelled the voice on the other side of the door. “Uhm..” your heart was beating in your chest now ringing in your ears making it hard to think. With caution you got up from the table to go open the door slowly to see Easterman and two large men behind him. He smiled waving and you just stared at this nicely dressed man. “There you are! We were worried about you, thought you were dead! “ beamed the man “ quite the little home you have here, “ You just started, unable to say anything at all. What could he possibly want? “Uhm..” the man held his hand up stopping you. “No need for an explanation, ive been observing you these past few days, are you alright? You have looked so sad lately” your eyes grew big . of course he had been watching .. cameras were everywhere…”y-yes… i .. just miss the sun i guess… Easterman i ..” he placed his hand on the door scarring you. “I'm sure you do Regent. Thats why im here, i have a proposition for you: come live with me, outside these trials, a nice big clean house, all the yard you could want to sit in the sun, you could be my little housekeeper instead of that damn Primes” a .. a way out but.. “What about Coyle? What will he do?” you asked him , trying to push the door back onto Easterman to close it but his grip was too firm. “He will be all alone again ….” the look on Eastermans face changed from happy to a little angry, his brow furrowed and he looked to be grinding his teeth a bit. “Hes a Prime , they dont have feelings Regent 47, who cares? Come live with me. I promise the nights with me will be so much better than that night with that damn cop” you stepped back letting go of the door allowing Easterman and his men to let themselves into the little house you made into a home. “You.. you saw…” you were speechless right now.. Why..how.. “Saw you riding his dick like you loved it? Many times.. Fucking slut im not asking again.” “please..get out.. Im going to ask you to leave.. “ Eastermans men grabbed you, bringing you to him, knocking over the little table in the process. “Oh Regent, this house was never yours, its mine. Everything in here is .. mine. And i'm going to make sure you understand that.” before you could say anything you were knocked out and taken out of the house.

Meanwhile, Coyles day was anything but exciting, he wanted to be with you dammit. On the way home Coyle was thinking of something, anything he could do to make you happy, maybe he could try to make dinner? Clean something? The man puffed heavily into his smoke feeling more and more irritated. “Hm? Whys the door open?” Coyle asked as the house got closer into view. He rushed up the steps looking all around. “Sweetness? “ he asked, going in to see the table flipped over and the sewing machine stabbing a needle into the table over and over. “Not like her to leave this on.” he was growing uneasy and worried. Coyle made his way back to the table flipping it back over seeing everything on the ground spread out. His head shot back up to the open door when he realized. “Sweetness…. Oh fuck.”

You woke up to a bright light shining on you and a headache. The room you were in was not the house.. It looked like a circus with mannequins everywhere. You tried to get up but the chain around your neck was making it difficult. The chain was attached to the floor and your hands were zip tied. “Look whos awake!!” yelled an excited voice. The man came into view and you shrunk into the dirty wall screaming for your life. It was Barbi , how?! Why?! “So ya think ya can just say no to the boss eh?” he stomped over kicking you in the stomach onto your back so he could stand over you . “lucky for me he said I could do whatever I wanted to ya! I hope ya like my friend here, “ he waved his shotgun around . “cuz its going inside ya!” he laughed as he continued to beat on you while laughing. Coyle was checking everywhere he could around the trials for you, you had to be somewhere, where were you?! He was growing panicked and not thinking clearly, Gooseberry found Coyle yelling and swearing up the black walls and rushed over to shake him. “Coyle! Easy! Ya lookin for your girl right?” the man turned to the woman pulling his sunglasses off “where.. Where is she Gooseberry” the woman pouted as she pointed to the tall building on their right. “Shes in there Coyle, but I cannot go with you” she told him, a little sad. Coyle took off for the building busting the door open to see a long hallway, your screams filled his ears making him shake in his boots. “Sweetness” he ran all the way down the hallway to see Barbi pulling at your pants trying to get them off you , he shoved the man off you taking his electric prod out to defend you. Your eyes were half swollen but you knew it was Coyle, the man shocked Barbi and brought his attention back to you to see you being lifted up by the Skinnerman so he could spray psychosis into your face. He ran away soon after and you started screaming as loud as you could, feeling its effect take over. Barbi was getting up and Coyle needed to find a way to free you , just as the man was about to grab Coyle a stun was sent his way hitting his back stopping the man in his tracks. Joy and Mika your friends ran over pushing Barbi out of the area, Joy kneeled down by you ignoring Coyle to slip you some antidote while Mika used a Rig Recharger for his stun. “We are friends of hers, listen she wants to get out of here. We are too far gone but shes not, “ Mika said, helping Joy up after she had freed you. Coyle quickly grabbed hold of you pulling you over his shoulder. “Where the fuck am i suppose to go” Coyle asked the two regents, you were a shaking heaving mess right now, bleeding, battered, bruised. “The way you came in, we have been doing some snooping, follow the twisted trees there's a gate, take the car outside, we rigged it, should work” Joy told the man as she pulled her stun out as well. “Please go, “ Mika said looking at Coyle, “we will be fine” Coyle handed the man his electric prod and held onto you with both hands as he rushed out of the room leaving the two regents alone with the Primes.

The car was right where they said it was and it was already on, quickly Coyle got in setting you in the passenger side , he sped off leaving the trials behind as he followed the trees, trying his best to doge garbage and what not, a gate was coming into view now. “Sweetness hold onto me” he told you. You felt all around whimpering, everything hurt, you could half see and wanted everything to just end. Your hands locked around Coyles arm as he drove through the gate hitting some security guards and broke through a double door. Both of you gasped and you had closed your eyes when it happened. The car evened out and Coyle slowly went down to a steady speed. “Sweetness… sweetness look..” Coyle said , shaking his arm around. You peaked feeling a harsh ray in your eye. “Ah.. ugn..” lifting your hand you realized it was the sun, the sky was visible… the clouds.. The air in your face.. The fresh air. You were out… you made it… you both did. Coyle placed his hand on your lap while he drove, taking one final look in the rearview mirror.

*******************

Little drabble to close out the story

*you and Coyle had settled into a tiny house a few states over. As soon as Coyle figured out where he was he decided to get great distance between him and the trials.

*a few days you were living in the car or sneaking into Hotels. Coyle had to bandage you up and keep you calm and quiet. The psychosis was gone but you were still very jittery and scared of everything around you.

*he requested help from the state and was given special treatment for his time in the service and how broken you were. You were unable to work because of the trauma .

*Coyle built the house ok the country side away from everyone and everything. No neighbors, no city, just acres of land the state owned .

*he set the house up just like the one in the trials for you so you would feel a sense of familiarity. He also set up a fence around the house

*you had gotten better but still were very anxious at times, always checking around your home. Leaving little night lights on at night and following Coyle around if you felt extra scared

* every morning, evening, and before you went to bed Coyle would check the perimeter outside the house. Every single day. He never found anything or anyone but that did not stop him from checking .

*Every monday the state would drop off supplies at the door from the mail. All you had to do was fill out the flyers they gave you and send em out every friday in the mailbox. It brought a sense of calmness to you , and it reminded you of the trial house

*the backyard was full of flowers, vegetable gardens and a little pond that ducks liked to swim in. You loved sitting outside during the day just staring at the yard and the sky

*Everynight after Coyle was done checking things you would both snuggle in the bed watching a tape .

#the outlast trials #leland coyle x reader #leland coyle

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executethyself35 · 6 months ago

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heyyy alexiii can you tell me more about your ocs please ? they fascinate me so much + im sorry that i can never come up with proper responses to any information about them beyond oooh thats very interesting

if youre looking for specific questions:

what're their relationships to religion? like. any religion

do they have siblings? how do they feel about their siblings?

what do they want to do after the war?

obviously feel free to ignore me if youre not in the mood!

much love, monty

MONTYYYYYYYY, THANK YOU POOKIE, and your responses are fine!!

i will say before i go into this: Eliza's part will contain bits of religious trauma, child abuse and religious cults, if that makes you uncomfortable pls scroll past her part. Mary's part mentions the death of a parent, if that also makes you uncomfortable pls skip her part. And if religion in general makes you uncomfortable and you do not have to read this part and are free to skip to the next part!!

Religion:

Zippo: being Jewish is heavily ingrained into her. Though she may seem like she's not, Zippo is one the most religious out of the girls, praying 3 times a day, and repenting for any sins she's committed during this war. She tries to keep to kosher foods, but realized early on that it may be difficult to keep up with that, even if she sometimes believes that the food they're served isn't really food. She tries to do what she needs for Shabbos (Sabbath), though later in the war that gets harder. But all in all, she heavily religious.

B: she's the other most religious girl, she is catholic as hell. Some of her earliest memories were in the local curch back in Cuba, when her and her mother used to go almost everyday. B describes her first time at mass in New York as very surreal, as it was in English and she knew none. As she got older and her relationship with her mother worsened, she went to church alot more and her mother went alot less. Her mother not going as much, caused B to go more than usual so she could pray for her. And once she went to war, she would still go to the services that were held on base.

Ollie: she grew up catholic, and is still a practicing one, but she's not that heavy of one. She'll go to church on Sunday, and any of the important masses, and that’s about it. When she joined up, she'll go to the on base service.

Torrie: she's not as catholic as she used to be. Don't get me wrong she still goes to Sunday mass and the other important ones, but after going to catholic school, and dealing with her entire Irish catholic family, she kinda just stopped being catholic. She'll go to the on base services still, bc it gives her some comfort of home.

Marselle: she was a good Roman catholic girl when she was younger, but as she got older she kinda stopped going as often, especially when she started living by herself. As she got into the military and in the war more, she attends services and feels more comfortable (it may also be because Skip is there with her)

I just want to give a heads up before i go into Eliza's, though i gave a warning beforehand, I want to give another warning. The cult that Eliza was raised in is based off the IBLP and their teachings, although i am certain they were not around in that time period, i do believe people with quiverfull beliefs such as theirs may have existed back then. If you have lived through this or something adjacent i advise you to skip ahead. If you choose not to, you have been warned.

Eliza: Eliza has an absolute HORRIBLE relationship with religion. Eliza had grown up in a religious cult with quiverfull ideas, which means people should have as many people as possible and until your body tells you to stop. Eliza's mother would beat on her relentlessly and used their religion as an excuse for why Eliza deserved the beatings. This is one of the many reasons why Eliza will forever hate religion and never believe in it ever again. And when Eliza entered the war, people had asked her why she wouldn't go to the base service and she would respond with "Didn't have a good upbringing with it" and that's the end of story.

Mary: Mary actually had a somewhat good relationship with religion, having gone whenever her family did, and her father went more so than everyone, having the saying "Fit God in whenever you can". And then her fathered died when she was 12, that caused her to stop going to church. It was really after his funeral when she stopped going. Her mother used to give her shit about it always asking her "Why don't you go to church, it'll make you feel closer to your father" and Mary's answer was always "That's exactly why, i don't want a reminder." and they would always leave it at that. So when she get's into the war, she still doesn't go to the services, and it's not till much later on when she starts going to service again.

Julia: She's around the same as B just not as heavily into it. Julia grew up catholic, she went to Sunday school and catechism classes every week for crying out loud! But, after a while she kinda just stopped being so heavy in it, mostly just going on Sundays and holidays. But when she got into the war, especially during fucking Bastogne, you better bet your ass she was going to the services Father Maloney was holding.

Allie: Now she grew up Baptist and let me tell you it was a trip for her. It was mostly Sunday mass, but it was still a lot. Take it from me, i grew up around southern baptist, it's crazy. Allie also kinda always rejected it because her mother was always like "All you need to do is be a good wife, stay at home and go to church. You don't need to be in the military." and Allie would not deal with it. So when she finally got into the military, Allie still didn't do church that much. But yeah, Allie's got one of the least problematic relationship with religion.

****

Siblings:

Zippo: Zippo is the oldest of six, being 14 when her youngest sister, Stephanie, was born. Here are her siblings in order with the years in between included: Twins Elena & Eli: 2 years, Rubio: 3 years, Martin: 4 years, Stephanie: 14 years. Zippo has eldest daughter syndrome, always feeling responsible for her siblings and anyone younger than her. So, when she get's into Easy and realizes half the guys are waaay younger, she has the urge to mother duck them, and sees them as kids to her and treats them like that. Zippo has a great relationship with all her siblings except for Eli, but none of the family likes him, you know it's bad when they're mother has literally said "If you weren't my son, i would hate your guts." This is because Eli is honestly a piece of shit, he thinks he's better than everyone because he's smart, he finished highschool and is going to college unlike Zippo. While Zippo loves everyone else, she will admit they can get her on nerves sometimes, especially Stephanie. When they first got to Aldbourne, Zippo had gotten a letter from her mother wondering how everything is going along, and this letter is a little part about Stephanie, she's pregnant. This came to as a shock to Zippo, as Stephanie is only 14 and her boyfriend is 15. Zippo immediately started writing back scolding the living shit out of Stephanie. She was so mad at her.

B: Bianca has no siblings and had wanted at least one for almost of her life. But, as she had gotten into her teenage years she realized the friends she grew up with are like siblings to her. And she keeps gaining more with each friend she makes.

Ollie: She has one older brother named Marcus who is 4 years older than her. They were already super close, and once their mom remarried they became closer. Speaking of their mother's second marriage, they gained 2 step siblings. A step sister named Sophie and a step brother Adrien. They all get along pretty well, especially Ollie and Sophie.

Torrie: Torrie has a younger sister, who is two years behind her. She helped raise her as their mom was dealing with a lot of bs. Torrie also has a fuck ton of younger cousins that she has helped raise, like helped raise so much they see her as a second mother.

Marselle: Marselle is technically the eldest of 5, making her the direct heir of her family "business" (you all know what i mean). She has two younger brothers, Daniel and Eli. Those are her two full blooded siblings. Then come to find out her father had two little girls with the same mistress. Marselle's eldest half sister is Rose, she's two months younger than her, as their mothers were pregnant at the same time. And the youngest half sister is Lavanda, she's two and a half months younger than Daniel. So in order it's: Rose: two months, Daniel: two years, Lavanda: Two years, and Eli: 5 years. Her relationship with her siblings is quite good, they all love each other.

ATTENTION: Eliza's section contains mentions of miscarriages, if that makes you uncomfortable please skip!!

Eliza: Eliza is the middle of nine, having 8 older siblings. All of Eliza's siblings are twins, just like she should've been. It's her older brothers, who she has a horrible relationship with, her older sisters who she has a somewhat good relationship with, they still talk to her after she left. Then it's her and her supposed to be twin, who passed in the womb. After she was born her mother kinda went off the rails, and she had several miscarriages, till around 10 years later came the 2nd to last set of twins was born, one boy one girl. And two years after them was the last and final set, as their mothers body wasn't able to take giving birth anymore, they were another boy and girl. Eliza doesn't really have a relationship with the last two sets, as she left when one set was 6 and the other 4. She does feel guilty for leaving them there, but she knew she couldn't stay there.

Mary: She has two older brothers and one older sister. Mary has an alright relationship with all her siblings. Don't get me wrong she loves all of them, but her brothers always did their own thing, one school the other crime. And her sister kept close to their mother. Mary would be the black sheep of the family if it wasn't for her eldest brothers continuous run in with the law, having gone to prison for arson right before she joined up. Mary was also helping her older sister take care of her baby girl, which caused Mary to be a little bit more distant to the idea of children.

Julia: Jules has three older full blooded siblings, and three younger half siblings. Her older brothers looove to pick on her 24/7, constantly teasing her and giving her hell. Her older sister likes picking on her but not as much as her brothers, her teasing is mostly her giving advice about certain things. And her relationship with her younger siblings is great. Her baby brothers love rough housing with her, and her baby sister loves playing dolls and dress up with her.

Allie: Allie has one younger sister who she loves dearly. Though her little sister is much more girlier than her and her mother approves of how she acts more than Allie, she still tells her to live the life she wants. Allie is completely fine if her little sister is the complete opposite of her, she tells her sister all the time "don't let no one take advantage of you, and beat the fuck out of anyone who tries to."

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After the War:

Zippo: She plans on getting married, maybe have a few kids and continue to work at her dad's deli shop

B: Her plan is mostly just to settle down and start a family, she doesn't know if she wants to continue working odd jobs or not

Ollie: She has definitely decided that she's settling down and starting a family with the man of her dreams who she's loves and not Roland.

Torrie: Torrie plans on visiting her family for a short while and then move in with George in Rhode Island, get married and have kids

Marselle: She originally planned on coming back to the states and marry Skip, but since those plans blew up, quite literally (i'm sorry), she's now just living above her brothers sub shop like she did before the war. She's trying to recover from being an alcoholic and is helping her brother out and helping Rose raise her daughter.

Eliza: Eliza lives by the saying "Where you go i go" with Ron, she followed him to Korea, where shortly before that they got married. She's got one part of her dream down, but the second is whether she wants kids or not.

Mary: She just wants to go home, get married and maybe have a few kids. Mary just wants to have a simple life

Julia: She had a whole ass plan aight?? She's immediately going to find Toye, get his ass, marry him and possibly have a few kids. Julia had this plan set out since Bastogne.

Allie: Allie straight up just wants to settle down on her farm. She decided that after the war she wasn't staying in the military, she was almost 30 when the war ended, she had her fun, and she's done now. So she just wants a farm and a family.

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I apologize for the long wait Monty!! I hope you like it!!

#alexi rambles #oc shit #let's see how far we’ve come #band of brothers x ofc

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