#and then i thought about it for four days then posted this

[simp-ly-writes]

Hope in a Bottle

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Pairing: AU!Silco x Reader

─ · · SUMMARY: You had died many years ago, or at least that was true in Silco's world. He had learned to live without you but when graced with the opportunity to see you once again- he can't help but indulge.

─ · · TAGS: gender-neutral pronouns, ANGST (but no seriously there are no happily ever afters), some fluff/comforting moments, suggestive themes.

─ · · MASTERLIST | TAGLIST REQUEST | WORDCOUNT: 2,668

─ · · A/N: I cried like at least four times when writing this, this show HAS ME IN A CHOKEHOLD.

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Silco often thought about you in passing moments. These moments he remembered sharing with you amongst your friends and in the comfort of your arms used to be coated in blue that he would drown and surround himself in; but as your presence forever lingered in his mind blue turned to pink and rose-tinted glasses glossed over every moment- every memory with a certain degree of fondness that he would catch himself smiling even when no one was in the room.

You would always manage to light up the room, tell him a joke when he needed it most, told him off and raised him up. He put so much of himself into you into your presence that when you left... it was like he had to redefine who he was but forever remained unsuccessful.

Silco learned to live without you physically but that did not mean that your jacket was still not waiting for your return on the back of his couch or your glass still half-filled by the bedside. Your chair at the bar was always kept at the back, awaiting your return as you both shared kisses in the storage room. He would always remember how the stained glasses reflected in your eyes, the colour breaking across your skin in a forever radiant presence just like you.

Vander would catch Silco in these moments when wiping down the bar top or taking a walk down by the Zaun bay, overlooking the artificial lights and hints of sunlight being cast upon the black waters. Watching as the mans hand opened and tensed before falling back down to his side.

"You doing alright there. brother?" Vander asked in a soft tone as they both crossed over to topside for the day. Silco looked up, a strand of his hair falling from his salt and pepper hair- blowing with the wind. "We are always alright in the hope to be better, and when we get better we hope for it to stay only to be alright once again; stuck in the cycle of it all I find myself on the better side today."

Vander hums along to Silco's words as they stop at the various market stalls to see their offerings a few new bottles for the bar from another region across the sea and a bag of sweets for the kids in the area. The men are suddenly greeted with another body stepping in between the two and falling inline with their pace.

"And how are we doin'?" Powder asks with a wide smile, trying to squeeze her arms together to encompass both of their sides before turning around to walk backwards and hold conversation.

Silco winces as Power almost misses lamp post after lamp post by mere millimetres. "We are fine, just about to make our way back home actually. Anywhere your headed, young lady?" Silco teases, his voice sharing sincerity in every syllable.

Powder rolls her eyes before turning back around, head tilting over her shoulder before she disappears back amongst the crowd, "Going to see this new invention Echo has been telling me about!" Vander shakes his head with a loving stare where Powder had just stood.

"She's going to change the world one day, you know?" Vander says to the wind, hoping that it catches her ears but it only does Silcos.

"I'm afraid she already has for she is your own world," Silco comments, placing a hand on his friends shoulder before powering forwards. "I hate it when your always right," Vander teases before taking two long strides to catch back up.

"Well I perfected it only from the best." Both mens minds go directly back to you, smiling and twirling in the bar to a new record you had found on the topside. Somehow you had already known all the lyrics after this being your supposed first time listening to the piece.

"They always knew, huh," Vander says, looking down to catch Silco small smile. "Yes, but not everything I wanted them to..."

─────── · ·

When back in Zaun and at The Last Drop, bar-goers had already flooded the decorated space for tomorrow night it would be the inventions fair, a bar local already chosen to set the mood for the night and a few university members stationed with scholarships in mind.

Both Vander and Silco were excited to witness the extraordinary kids they knew have the opportunity to show their talents to others and hopefully the collective dream of them changing the world would come true but fate always had to make its presence known in the doorway.

Blue sparkled out of the corner of Silco's eye as he leaned against the bar top waiting to continue his conversation with Vander. A half eaten apple sat beside his notebook that he was picking away at while conducting the accounting for the month. His back burned with his age from being hunched over for so long as he stood up to stretch.

Laughs echoed throughout the bar, feet dancing against the wooden plank floors, drinks clashing and spilling against the tables as another gets thrown out the side door. Powder had left a few moments ago with Echo, a certain mischievous look in her eye that Silco did not find unusual at the time would only shock his system now when he caught from reflection in the glass of his amber filled cup.

Your name graced his lips, remembering the feel, imaging your warmth against his skin and to feel it, to see it. He thought to be surreal, to be going senile as he looked to Vander for support and only found him smiling with a wink before turning back around to serve another customer.

Your skin was a thousand colours coming to life in his eyes, his hand drifting from the back of your fingertips, up your arm to your shoulder, neck upon which you shiver and rest your forehead upon his own. "How I've missed you," words that he only hoped to hear, have only read to himself in comfort written by his own hand- a fantasy turned reality now spoken to truth between your very own lips that Silco had to claim.

You melted into his touch, decades without the familiarity- him haunting your body with memory of his touch now appearing as goosebumps in recognition. You smile against his lips, hand running up against the smooth fabric of his vest before lacing in the silver locks of his hair.

Out of breath, you both pant, hands still gripping one another tightly as if afraid the other would disappear once more. "I thought to have lost you, to be so alone for so long. Why is it now that you appear just when I was surviving once again off of scraps?" Silco asks into your ear, not wanting to break this moment between the two of you. Even when in a crowded bar, it is only the two of you present in this moment.

"I would ask myself the same questions when I came back alive thanks to the technology developed in my universe and by what force I have yet to know, I am forever thankful for returning me, my soul, back to you to rest finally," you speak through tears mixing with Silco's silent ones dripping down his cheekbones and falling against your clothes that stain the fabric dark.

"I should thank that force as well," Silco murmurs, lost in your eyes, brushing away your tears. "I think it best we have the rest of this conversation elsewhere," Silco grabs your hand before pulling you out of the bar. The cheers and claps becoming distant as he leads you back to his apartment.

He locks the door behind you both, watching as you gently let go of his hand and walk around his space. Your hand feels the leather of your jacket still sat in the same place where you left it, against the couch in a forgotten moment of need. You continue towards the kitchen, seeing the various crayon pictures of Violet and Powder attached to the fridge who Silco explained to you before walking towards the bedroom. Your glass still waiting for you beside an unopened bottle you remember gifting Silco for his birthday.

"Why did you never open it?" You ask, fingers tracing around the neck of the bottle coated in a layer of dust you blow from your fingertips. "You said not to open it without you there to try it, I kept to my promise in hope for an impossible day like today. It was a reminder of not to drain my hope as many other's do."

All you can do is nod before holding the bottle in between your hands, a sickness suddenly washes over you as you take in Silco's form leaning against the doorframe. His arms crossed, leg tucked over the other and the scar of his yellow eye glowing warmly- lighting up the room amongst the candles.

He expects you to open the bottle, you understand that in doing so means you are to stay but that is something you cannot do. Not when Echo and the Professor are building a time-machine, not when your world is about to erupt in ruins.

You want nothing more to indulge more than you already had into this word of perfection and wrongs written right but that would be a cruelty brought upon this world. You knew you shouldn't have gone up to him, kissed him, felt his skin upon you skin only to take it away like the hopes of everyone else who had died during this war.

But you were only human, your heart already shattered and in need of repair, of warmth and kindness but you would only be selfish just as much as those you were out to strike down. "I-I can't open the bottle Silco. I-" you start to sob, hands shaking before placing the bottle back upon the nightstand.

You bring your knees back up to your chest, breaths heavy as your head spins, blood starting to drip down your nose, the reflection of blue out of the corner of your eyes as you gripping the sheets, knuckles turning white as Silco runs over, falling to his knees as he begs to see your face.

"Please, whatever is the matter, darling?" Silco asks, the sweetness of his tone doing nothing but to further indulge your nausea as you spiral. "I shouldn't have come to you, have done any of this!" You shout, trying to shove the man away but Silco only stands, wrapping his arms around your body as you do your best to kick and shove him away.

You look over his shoulder, watching as the sunsets through the window and sheer blinds. "Silco," you sob, fingers digging into the material of his vest once again in a panic rather than in reverence. "Silco, I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry that this was not forever, that this will only be another memory and perhaps the once that hurts the most knowing that I left rather than was forced to..."

"Then let me hurt, allow me to bleed, allow me to weep for I have endless time for that but only a finite time to be truly happy. So please, indulge me, drink it all and leave me once more with the knowledge that you are out there somewhere in another place, alive. Please, please," Silco begs turn into whispers as you press your tears into his neck before leaving a lingering kiss.

"Until the sunrise we shall be happy in the night," you speak softly in between kisses, your vision still clouded in tears.

"Until the sunrise," Silco restates before capturing your lips once more and sighing heavily. The moons bask ignites you both, lighting the liquid in your bodies burn as you take pleasure in one another.

You feel him, your hearts and souls connecting, rekindling in what is only to be heartbreak that makes you both press harder into one another. Leave marks across each others skin and kiss them delicately afterwards. It is in you both taking a bath afterwards until the cold waters have you both frozen still in realization as the sun rises and fills the room. Its warmth lost as you pick up your clothes and leave your jacket leaning against the couch once more.

You stare at the empty bottle at the bedside and watch as Silco picks it up and looks at you through it was a wavering smile. "Goodbye, my love and know that it was always you my soul yearns for and you who I define myself as."

"I really wish this didn't have to be the end, Silco...." you try your best not to sob, chocking on your words yet standing firm in your positions knowing that comforting one another would only make the hurt worse than it already was burning. "...in another life, I can see how easily we could have had it all- could have been happy."

"I wouldn't want any other memories than the ones we share," you nod in agreement, your body shakes, skin burns in want as you reach for the cold handle that sends shivers down your spine.

"Goodbye, Silco, I love you, forevermore."

"And I you."

─────── · ·

The walk to Jinx's place is a long and cold one, a thousand pairs of eyes stare at you with their condolences. You refuse to meet any of their stares, knowing that by just one look you would be running back into his arms for comfort.

Echo and Heimerdinger are already there and waiting for you, Echo extends his hand and lifts you up onto the platform. A swirl of arcane magic mixed fits the seeds of that all-too-familiar blue have you floating with a scream as the Professor sacrifices himself with one last salute to you both. Echo holds you, the loss of today holding heavy yet his touch is not what you yearn for as you cry into his jacket, gripping the collar of it as colours swirl around your vision and you are brought back to the battlefield once more.

Bullets wiz past your had, another graces your cheek as your blood falls like tears against the broken pavement. The roar of a monster rumbles the ground as you sprint towards the closing barriers, throwing yourself over them and into a sea of dead blue enforcers.

Screams haunt your ears, echoing distantly through your memories and brought forth into reality as you step over cast aside limbs and guns. You watch as Vi ahed of you holds another as they take their final breaths, a machine gun makes you loose hearing in your left ear and next thing you knew, a burning sensation was coming from your right leg where a ghastly wound had planted itself.

Hoisting and forcing yourself to stand you carry forth with a limp and defend the entrance, holding cover and watching as the trojan horse gets rolled in through the barriers all you can feel is Silco's marks as you charge forwards with an unrelenting cry.

─────── · ·

Silco fell back into the bed and stayed in that exact same numb position until Vander came to find him, "You know, there was a part of me debating weather or not to distract you from 'em and theres a part of me now that regrets not doin' so."

"It wouldn't have mattered anyways, the hurt of not seeing them when I got the chance to would have hurt just as much if not more. But I appreciate the sentiment, brother," Silco responds, rolling the cork of the bottle in between his thumb and finger.

"Finally drank it, huh?" Vander comments, picking up the bottle from the stand as gently as possible between his large hands. All Silco can do is smile, a singular tear dripping down his cheek that gets cast away, "yeah, something like that."

─────── · ·

─ · · A/N: so... what did y'all think?

[meelusinee]

AN OPERA HOUSE ☆ T.N X READER

in which you’re Theo's girlfriend and went to visit him on tour.

pairing: singer!theodore nott x singer!reader

tags: band!au, mostly fluff

word count: 2.6k

warnings: none, just fluff! (and mattheo getting water bottles thrown his way)

author’s note: my first post! for starters, i made a small playlist for this fic if you’d like to check it out. theodore, who i imagine as a cigarettes after sex singer. secondly, while english is my first (and only) language, that does not mean i claim it in any way shape or form (aka this will probably suck ass)

AN OPERA HOUSE | T.N x SINGER!READER

God, he hated interviews.

The lights that were blaring in Theodore’s face, along with the sound of people walking around both in front and behind the set, were really starting to piss him off. Theo didn’t know how Enzo and Mattheo did it, both of them smiling bright as if they were having a nice fuck or smoking a rather heavy cigarette.

Theodore really could use a cigarette right now. Either that, or you.

Thoughts of nicotine and you had been running rampant in his mind ever since he had to leave you for his national tour, the tour that celebrated the release of the band’s newest album Cigarettes After Sex. A debut of sorts, Theodore wasn’t really sure what to call it. If he were to name it anything, he’d want to name it his love letter to you. But Mattheo had said he couldn’t do that, so he stuck with the band name.

“Today is a rather special day for you, isn’t it?”

Theodore’s mind zoned back in as Blaise gently nudged his leg, his posture straightening up as the interviewer finally started asking questions. Perhaps they needed time to make the lights even brighter, Theo thought, his hand moving to cover the frown growing on his face. 

“Very special indeed,” Mattheo said, his signature smirk that got a lot of people involved with the band plastered on his face. “We just released an album, did you hear?”

“Yes, I did!” the interviewer said, smiling brightly as she adjusted the notes in her hand. “I was hoping we could ask you some questions about it, the musical process and making it mostly.”

Theo hummed non-committedly as the rest of them nodded their heads. Questions about music production didn’t sound too bad compared to a media interrogation.

“Do you mind if we did an introduction?” the lady asked, her fingers patting the cards.

“Course not love,” Blaise said, waving his hand casually as he sat up straighter. Theodore rolled his eyes, looking down at the ground. Blaise was always the biggest player out of the four of them. And that said a lot, seeing as though Mattheo Riddle was in the band as well. 

Theodore watched as the cameras focused in on each of them, the interviewer putting her cards down momentarily to introduce them to the show. “Today is a very special day for all of us, I can imagine.” she said, smiling as she made some sort of dramatic hand gesture towards them. “Today, I’m here with the members of Cigarettes after Sex. We’re going to ask questions about their newest album.”

“I’m so excited.” Lorenzo squeaked, straightening up as he and Mattheo made funny faces to the camera.

“I wanted to start with the first question I had, which was how working on the album went.” she started almost instantly, sitting up a bit straighter. Theo rather appreciated that about her. “I mean, there’s four people in your band, and a lot of timing and other issues that you’d have to work on together. Does that stuff come easier to you than to others, do you think?”

“I think we work pretty well together, right?” Lorenzo asked, leaning forward to look at the other three before smirking in Theo’s direction. “Other than Mr. Grumpy over there, he gets pissy a lot.”

“Oh definitely.” Mattheo said, smirking as he ruffled Theo’s hair. “But it’s okay, because he writes us songs and mothers us whenever we drink. We love him very dearly.”

“It’s not my fault you decide to get concerningly drunk almost every time we hit a bar.” Theo grumbled, sitting up a bit straighter as he prepared to answer the question seriously. “We work as a team a lot of the time, especially when it comes to music. The only non-negotiable is the lyrics, which I write by myself. Other than that though, it’s free reign.”

“So things like instruments and rhythm are all decided by everyone in the band collectively?” the interviewer asked.

“Pretty much,” Blaise explained. “Usually Mattheo and Enzo make a starting beat for songs, and Theo and I usually build guitar chords off of that. Theo here has most of the control with singing though, rhythm and stuff.”

“That’s really cool.” the interviewer nodded. “I wish my family had that amount of coordination during the holidays.”

The four of them chuckled at varying degrees, with Mattheo winking at the interviewer after. “Maybe if we came over we could give you some pointers.”

“That sounds really lovely, actually.” she said, the comment obviously getting to her. Her cheeks became visibly more flushed, fingers tapping faster against her notes. “I wanted to ask you guys a little bit about the lyrics though, if you don’t mind.”

And here we go.

“That’s all Theo’s field.” Lorenzo said, all three of their fingers dramatically pointing at the top of Theo’s head. He really felt like walking out for a smoke, and maybe burning them all with the ashes out of spite for their existence. But he wasn’t going to let them know that.

“Now, I’m sure you can guess where this is headed,” she chuckled softly, flipping one of her flashcards over. “I was wondering what the inspiration for your songs was. Do you have a muse or anything of the sort?”

Theodore sighed, feeling the moment almost pause in time as he tried to think of an answer. He very much did have a muse, you were waiting at home in his bed. Even still, he wasn’t sure if he wanted that public. Especially since the both of you were rather quiet creatures.

He supposed it couldn’t hurt too much though.

“I do,” he whispered, clearing his throat after he spoke. He didn't realize how choked he would sound speaking. “Yeah, she’s really pretty.”

“Theo’s got a girlfriend!” Mattheo teased, poking Theo’s cheek teasingly. “He’s got a girlfriend who he loves very much. That woman has stolen his heart from me!”

“For shame of her, the audacity even.” Blaise chuckled amusedly, both Mattheo and Enzo playing a heartbroken bit. Theo smirked softly as Mattheo dramatically rested his head on Lorenzo’s shoulder, fake sobs escaping his mouth as they mourned over the loss of a non-existent relationship. 

“You’ll be fine.” Theo said, gently patting Mattheo’s back.

“I’ll never recover from this.” he sniffled, sitting up a bit straighter. “Mark my words.”

It was a midsummer night, the sweltering heat doing nothing to deter the line of fangirls waiting at the entrance gates. The muggy and dense air seemed to surround everyone with a humid blanket, every bit of contact made as they tried to get through the doors like a match on gasoline. The concerts you went to weren’t usually this crowded and suffocating. 

Then again, you usually never went to such well known-bands.

Luckily for you, you had been able to sneak a VIP seat ticket for the higher tip-tops of the opera house, a fitting venue for the band that was playing tonight. Cigarettes After Sex was flashing on the monitor they had set up near the back of the stage, the camera zoomed in to focus on the currently empty microphone stand. 

Voices filled the area as everyone began to take their seats, some people pushing and shoving as they made their way around with water and sneaked in alcohol. Some of them had on merch for the band, some of them didn’t. Most of them wore darker clothes though, lots of black with leather jackets and heavy boots.

Your eyes zoned in on the screen as the lights began to dim, the voices all hushing as four men walked out onto the stage. Lorenzo Berkshire was the drummer, one of the most well-known band drummers that you could name off the top of your head. Mattheo Riddle was already stationed by the keyboards, his unruly curls already a little damp from the humidity inside the room. Blaise Zabini walked out with his bass guitar in hand, a role you knew he took on just so he could look hot while strumming the strings. Then came out Theodore Nott. 

Your boyfriend.

You could tell that the heat was affecting him the least out of all of the band members, his waterline covered in the tiniest bit of eyeliner. You smiled softly as you recalled the memory of putting eyeliner on him when you two first started dating, the giggling fit the both of you had broken out into as the other three begged you to do their eyeliner as well. 

He looked beautiful in the lighting too, his outfit framing his figure in an almost holy light. You were almost tempted to start writing a song about it right then and there. But now wasn’t your time, now was the time of the band.

You supposed the band thought the same thing as well, Blaise’s fingers beginning the strum the opening of their most popular song. Theo made his way up to the microphone stand, smiling softly at the crowd as he began to sing. His voice was just as angelic as his face, echoing through the opera house like the ghost of a long forgotten lover. He had completely captivated the room, the silence barely just quieter than the sound of his voice. 

“Your lips, my lips,” you smiled softly as he sang the lyrics, leaning your head on your hand. “Apocalypse.”

You remember the time when he wrote that song. Your tongue was barely darted out as you tried to focus on not messing up the edges of a painting you had been working on, the brush trembling with your hands focused. It was a galaxy, the blues and purples blending together in a  jaw-dropping beauty of a display. Mattheo had come into the room as you finished, a low whistle escaping his mouth as he glanced over at it.

“Looks like an apocalypse.”

Apparently, those words had rung through Theo’s mind for the week after that. He eventually sat you down on the bed, pulling out his guitar as he began to sing the lyrics to you. They needed a bit of polishing with the rhythm, his fingers plucking the wrong strings at times as he sang. But it was one of the most beautiful pieces you had heard regardless, tears welling in your eyes as you moved to hug him. That hug also ran through Theo’s mind for yet another week, in which he had apparently produced an entire studio album based on you. 

You smiled softly as the end of the song came about, the final string echoing through the silent theatre. Theo had gone to grab a bottle of water by the speaker, his eyes locking onto yours.

You winked playfully, smiling at the blush that covered his features. You also just remembered that he had not expected you at the tour. 

“You need to come get your lover boy,” were the words that rang through your phone speaker as you tried to press it against your ear.

“What?” you asked again, pen in your hand as you spoke.

“I said,” Mattheo’s voice rang through the speaker. “You need to come get your lover boy. He is really depressed right now, like, really. He’s missing you terribly and is currently refusing to work because of it.”

You heard him and Blaise beginning to argue in the background, the both of them knowing that Theo would eventually get up. But Mattheo seemed to think that you being there would solve every single one of his problems.

“I don’t know if I can go, Mattheo,” you mumbled, placing your notebook down. “I doubt I could get a spontaneous ticket.”

“Don’t worry about that,” he said. “I already sent a driver to pick you up, he’ll be there in about 10 minutes. I’m just calling to let you know.”

“You what?” you said, looking at the phone incredulously. “Mattheo, I don’t have any time to pack! What would I wear?”

“You say that as if Theo won’t buy you a whole wardrobe based on you liking a single piece of jewelry!” Mattheo said back, groaning as Blaise called for him. “I gotta go, make sure you get in that car and come over. He’s really, really missing you.”

“Mattheo, I swear to Merlin.” you began, but didn’t have any time to finish as you heard the beeping at the end of the line. 

(divider)

“Is that amore mio?” Theo asked Blaise incredulously, looking over at the other three before catching Mattheo’s smirk. “Oh, you bastard.”

“You were missing her!” he said, running away from the keyboard so Theo could throw water at him. “It's not my fault you got depressed!”

“She is meant to be resting, testa di cazzo!” Theo said, sighing as he put the bottle down. No doubt that would be clipped in magazine headers across the country. Theo looked over at you, a soft smile coming on his face when you came into vision. You still had that smile on your face, if not brighter now that you were giggling. He smiled back, picking up his microphone again.

“For our next song,” he spoke into the microphone, placing it back on the stand. “I think it’d be rather nice to sing something about the building we’re in as well. Something about the opera house.” he said, smirking softly as the crowd of fans began cheering. The lights dimmed again as the music began playing, his eyes closing as he let it run through his soul.

“Built an opera house for you in the deepest jungle,” he began, the music coursing through his veins. The words flowed out of him like a waterfall, his voice sweet as candy as he began walking back and forth at the front of the stage. Though every time the chorus hit he found himself in the middle, eyes focused on yours as he sang the lyrics. 

“I was meant to love you, and always keep you in my life. I was meant to love you, I knew I loved you at first sight.”

The lights cut off completely as the equipment turned off, a smile growing on Theo’s face as the end of the concert came. 

“Theo!” you squeaked as you saw him, waddling up to him like a happy penguin as you embraced him in a hug. You hadn’t seen him in over two weeks, the longest either of you had ever spent apart. “I never want to abandon you ever again.”

“If anyone was doing the abandoning, it was me.” he chuckled, his arms wrapping around you as he kissed your forehead lovingly. “I missed you so much principessa,” 

“I missed you too,” you mumbled, burying your face in his chest. “Teddy.”

“Are you calling me a teddy bear?” he chuckled softly, pulling away from the hug to cup your face lovingly. His eyes were filled with devotion you only thought possible in dreams and fairytales, that was until you eventually met him at least. 

“Yes I am.” you smiled softly.

“You are ridiculous.” he chuckled softly, pressing his lips against yours as he caressed your cheeks lovingly. “Merlin, I love you.”

“I love you too.” she whispered lovingly. 

The two of you stood comfortably in the silence, wrapped in a hug neither wanted to leave. That was until Mattheo popped in.

“Told you that you missed her!”

His face had rather quickly met two empty water bottles. 

AUTHOR'S NOTE

thank you so much for reading! i got kind of lazy during the end of this, i'm not going to lie to you (it's three am), but! if you want more of these two lovely beauties i might maybe make a part two! (i originally drafted this with reader as a singer in mind, so if you'd like to be singing some adrianne lenker songs to theo just let me know)

please like and comment and all that jazz, i practically live off of validation at this point.

[writergirlll]

can you write something about F1 driver (doesn't matter who) x reader, when they were best friends since childhood, but then suddenly they become strangers. no one knows how, why, and not even themselves, until they meet at the Las Vegas GP after a long absence..

Yeah suree. (I know this is pretty bad, but I wrote this late at night, so sorry, I'll just get better!!)

CHILD MEMORIES /LH44

Lewis Hamilton x reader

I don't know why I put Lewis, but somehow he fit me there..

words: 2k+

You were everything. You brightened up anyone, you laughed at everything, you were the sun of Mercedes. Everyone loved you, you were inseparable.

You and Lewis have been best friends since birth. Your families were close, so you practically had no choice but to hang out with each other. But the decision was great!

You spent whole days together, the same kindergarten, elementary school and then high school. You weren't even separated when Lewis started driving F1 because you followed him to EVERY race. Everyone knew how close you were. Journalists, fans, co-workers of Lewis, your families and you.

That's why you just didn't know what happened. Four months have passed since Lewis' last race. And you haven't seen each other in four months. You didn't know why, you didn't know how.

Lewis stopped texting you, stopped answering your calls, and blocked you pretty much everywhere. You couldn't comment on his posts, you couldn't do anything. When you were waiting for him three days ago after the race, you didn't even get to see him because Russell kicked you out saying that Lewis definitely didn't want to see you.

You didn't understand it at all because you were inseparable and the worst part was that everyone asked you about it. Your whole family asked you, your friends, fans of you and Lewis, or even the press. But you just couldn't answer. You couldn't tell them that you had absolutely no idea what was going on and you wanted to know. You couldn't tell them it was Lewis who cut you off because he would be blamed. And okay, maybe he's ignoring you right now and you don't know why, but you're definitely not a bitch who would betray him and take the blame on him. Yes, he was at fault, but not everyone needs to know that..

And that's why you decided to go to the race in Las Vegas, to find out the answers. You knew it might not be a good idea because you might get fired again and it would be even worse for your psyche, but you had to know the answers. Just had to.

“Y/n no! You're not going to the movies with him” Lewis started yelling at you when you were nine.

,,Why? You are not my mom to order me around. He's nice to me and he doesn't yell at me unlike you" you stuck your tongue out at him and started putting on your mom's lipstick.

"He's not nice. He's just using you" he shook his head and stepped closer to you.

"But he's handsome. You don't know him at all” you mumbled as you concentrated on putting red on your lips.

"I know him. He doesn't do homework at all and his dad is said to have been in prison. He's not nice to me at all" he explained and you turned to him.

“Is it true?” you asked and he nodded quickly, his head almost falling off. "But I already have the tickets and I've made an appointment with him" you whined.

"Then you will come with me and we will write him a letter on the way. He only lives a few minutes away anyway" Lew thought up and you finally went along with his solution.

You took off your lipstick and pulled out a piece of paper and started writing - which looked like a scratch that you weren't going anywhere with. Then you put it in the envelope Lew had made in the meantime, sealed it with saliva, and dropped it in his mailbox when you went to the cinema.

At home, you packed some things, bought tickets and booked a hotel. You told your parents and everyone close to you about your plan and got on the plane.

After a few hours of flight, you finally flew to Las Vegas, called a taxi and went to check into the hotel.

When you did this, you decided it was time to go get answers. You didn't know what you would say to him when you saw him in four months, or if you would see him at all, but you wanted to at least try.

You've been pretty sick these past few months and weeks. You were constantly wondering if it was your fault and what you did wrong. The family told you that it might not be your fault but his, but you just didn't want to believe that Lewis would do something like that. Certainly not the Lewis you knew.

You cried for days and nights and it took you a long time to sort of recover from it. You knew that if Lewis ignored you even today, or didn't let you see him, it would be even worse. But why not give it a try?

You left the hotel straight to the track, where the qualification was supposed to start in an hour so you were hoping to catch Lewis before quali started.

You showed your VIP ticket at the entrance to the track, even though the people at the gate already knew you very well and would have taken you without a ticket, and you headed to the Mercedes garage, more nervous than ever.

You slowly shuffled there, already having several journalists on your neck, which you successfully ignored. And you also successfully ignored the feeling that told you to turn around and not go there at all.

It wasn't long before you saw a boy in a blue jumpsuit who revealed himself to be George Russell. As soon as you approached him, he noticed you and frowned at first before smiling slightly when he saw your expression.

“Y/n hi. You haven't been here long" he said as he walked up to you and gave you a quick hug.

"Yeah well, I didn't have much reason to walk there" you smiled firmly and looked around for Lewis. "Don't you know where Lewis is?" you asked and George's smile immediately disappeared from his face.

"I think he doesn't want to talk to you much. Besides we are going quali in a bit” he said quickly and you frowned.

"I absolutely do not see why you are bodyguarding him, but I want to know the reason why he did this to me. I have a right to know” you got angry.

"I know, I know but..-"

"No, no but. Just let me go to him. I need to know” you whispered the last part of your sentence and with that George pulled away from you leaving you to search the area.

You searched for quite a long time before you finally caught sight of his head. He was already dressed in his racing suit and was looking for something on the table, among all the things. You stopped for a moment before taking a deep breath and stepping forward..

Either it will ruin your life or you will find out the reason..

“Lewis?” your little six year old self whispered and patted little Lewis.

“Yeah” he turned sleepily in his bed and looked at you.

"Could I sleep with you? I'm scared on the floor" you whispered and desperately hoped he would say yes. You were supposed to sleep with him, but since his bed was small, you had to sleep on the floor, which you didn't like.

Little Lewis didn't answer, he just shifted on the bed towards the wall and lifted the covers. You quickly took advantage of this and crawled under the covers, where you snuggled up.

"Thank you so much" you smiled a little and felt tiredness wash over you. Lewis barely nodded, himself already in dreamland and put his arm around your small body and hugged you.

"I love you" you kissed his cheek and rested your head on his shoulder.

"Me too" Lewis smiled, pulling you closer and together you slowly returned to the realm of dreams..

“Lewis?” You asked cautiously, stepping a fair distance away from him to give you some space. You could see a light bulb go off in his head that it was you and he tensed slightly before turning to you.

"What are you doing here?" he asked without a greeting and glared at you. Okay, maybe you really should have stayed home..

"I came to watch the race" you replied because you didn't want to argue right now even though you knew it would most likely end up like that.

"And did you buy VIP tickets?" he rolled his eyes at your stupidity and you couldn't take it anymore.

"Why are you ignoring me? Why did you just do all this overnight" you asked him and even though it was only the first question, tears formed in your eyes.

"I don't know what you're talking about" Lewis shook his head and went back to looking for things.

"Lewis, you know it very well. Did I do something wrong? Did I say something wrong? Because I really don't know why you just left me without an explanation after more than 30 years of knowing each other" you frowned and you made him turn around.

"I don't know okay" he started waving his hands and sighed.

“So you don't know?” you whispered, a single tear falling down your cheek. You quickly wiped it away, but Lewis seemed to see it. "After all four months, when I cried constantly because I didn't know the fuck reason why you did it, you're going to tell me that you don't know? You don't even know how much I've been worried about this because how could you when you blocked me everywhere and when I followed you George dumped me” now you started crying.

Looking at your tear covered face, Lewis softened slightly and moved a little closer to you. "I couldn't see you" he only said and looked sympathetic. "I really wanted, I wanted to hug you and explain everything to you, but I couldn't".

"But why"? you sniffed and wiped away the stray tears with the back of your hand - and that there were a lot of them.

"I" he started and ran a hand through his hair without continuing. "Maya, my ex-girlfriend. I started dating her shortly before I cut you off, you didn't even get to know her. She was very angry that I was talking to you and on top of that the whole team said that I was fired by you because I wasn't winning so many races, so I thought this would be the easiest solution. I knew it was definitely wrong, but it was the easiest. But when Maya broke up with me a month ago because she found someone else, I didn't have the strength to go to you. I knew you'd be mad. I knew I messed up terribly. Please forgive me. Please" now he started crying too.

His explanation left you completely shocked. You didn't know what to say to that. You may have understood Maya because you yourself have experienced that a person behaves differently under the pressure of a loved one, but that his team said are you distracting him?

“So this was the easiest solution?” you finally asked.

"Yes. No. I don't know. I really don't know, please forgive me. I understand what you had to go through and I don't want to lose all those years when we were kids and teenagers" he begged walking closer to you before wiping your wet cheeks with his big hands.

"And Mercedes thinks I'm distracting you"?

"Well, George doesn't. The other teams didn't either, but we really had a tough season, everyone thought differently, they certainly didn't mean it" he hugged you tightly and didn't want to let go.

You wrapped your arms around his back and he wrapped his around your waist. "Let's not lose all our friendship, please. I'll do anything" he whispered in your ear and you nodded.

He might have done a bad thing that cost you an extreme amount of tears and everything, but he was still Lewis, who you had loved since birth and who would never knowingly do something so horrible.

"Lew i don't want to lose our friendship either. But I will remember what you did. And I also hope that your Maya, who is probably a nice bitch by the way, doesn't show up in my life" you laughed lightly and Lewis too.

So in the end it turned out to be a good decision to go to Las Vegas...

“What if we never see each other again?” you sighed and looked deeply into the eyes of your best friend of 15 years.

"We'll see. I'm only going there for a few days for now, but you'll be able to go to my races. I'll give you a discount" he smiled at you seeing your concern and you shook your head.

Lew got an offer to F1, when they invited him to an audition and if he succeeded, he would go to junior competitions for a few years in Italy.

"You can't leave me here" you shook your head once more and pulled him into a hug.

"I won't let. Never. Best friends forever"?

"Best Friends Forever".

[lovelytayforce]

I agree with this comment here so hard, I remember getting blasted for calling readers who don't comment "leeches" on R/Fanfiction and I'm glad people are seeing that for what it is even if it's four years late

So, I'm gonna share my own little story here because discord has actively ruined communities for fanfic (and art too I'm not gonna leave y'all out cause my bestie @zoetiger-1106 is an artist who deserves way more praise than she gets!!) The reason why authors and myself see the "I'm shy" shit as an excuse is because the same people will type long ass tirades on Discord without a single thought. YOU CAN EDIT AO3 COMMENTS PEOPLE! If you make a mistake, read it back over and edit it. I've watched it happen in real-time with one of my favorite commenters on my one-shot where they left a short gushing comment and then came back and wrote more, you have no excuse much less reason to go "Man fandom keeps telling me to not critique and I might make a mistake so I will say nothing and consume like the average TV and Streaming consumer who thinks there doing something!" YOU have a lot of power with comments and even those bookmark tags hell just copy-paste what you put into those bookmark tags as a comment I DON'T CARE AT THIS POINT USE THAT LIL BOX TO VOICE SOMETHING!!!! God this is all over the place idc but I read back at those bookmarks, and saw people call my works the best and super cool and I APPRECIATE THAT but tell me! Stop taking the easy route, I been blasted for misunderstandings over comments multiple times cause people take my "tone" terribly cause it sucks being black and emotive online yay and for some reason people think !!!! Is bad? yes, I've been hit with that but I keep on trucking cause fuck whatever some weirdo thinks about exclamation points! Anyways back to discord and why I hate it now, I was in a small fandom, KFP got invited to a discord cause ONE person commented on my works and saw they talked about my fic, and at first, I was happy and people TALKED about my chapters at length in the fanfic channel. I basically was the ONLY ONE posting consistently in that channel and it was great but also I wanted that on my fic to show I improved so guess what I did? I went all in trying to one-up myself to be noticed, to have the acclaim my peers did so it would evolve outside of discord channels but it never happened. And Imma tell y'all now; it never will. Readers prefer convenience over your hard work, they are not gonna take time for you no matter how much you improve. People told me over and over while I looked for solutions for this; "We can't make commenting look like an obligation." "Add more prose, space these paragraphs better" all this just for no one to take the initiative and say something SINCERE towards a work they love on it. I've had to tell my own ex-friends now to go leave comments on works they called Masterpieces while ignoring me. Despite the fact they wanted Gen content in which I WROTE. Or met people who have very weird "I don't review" rules for themselves despite getting motivated by reviews themselves!! We're in a shitty time for creatives much less community cause we don't see each other as humans much less want to treat each others as we desire to be treated. Fanfic readers want to treat authors like showrunners and I hate it. But then your peers will tell you 'not to worry about engagement" and no I am because why is my hit count going up every day but ain't no one saying shit? Make it make sense!! I sat in that community commenting as much as I could, especially on long fics; it wasn't all perfect but I TRIED. I didn't expect shit back but hey it would have been nice but it never happened and again I learned; it never would. That's the real issue, no one wants to give no more; just take and take and take til you're sucked dry of passion worse than any corpo out right now. It's why I thankfully switched fandoms. I got ONE consistent commenter and they are better than that ENTIRE SMALL CLOSED COMMUNITY!! So, to any discord reactor for fanfic you better skip on to that message you made and copy and paste it in this box right here and never utter "I'm shy" ever again cause we see you, our friends tell us about you. You are not as anonymous as you think! 🫵🏽

A writer friend told me something that broke my heart a little bit today; they're going to quit publishing their fanfic.

My instant thought was that they had been trolled or attacked or that something terrible had happened in their life because this person is so passionate about their writing. It wasn't any of that. Engagement with their works has been going down, as it has for many of us. Comments are like gold dust a lot of the time, and just looking through the historical comment counts on old fics on ao3 demonstrates this trend very clearly. It was not simply the comments dropping off which caused them to decide to stop posting, however.

My friend came across a discord server for their fandom (I should point out here that their fandom interest and mine diverged a couple of years ago, we stay in touch but don't currently read each other's posts because I'm not into their fandom and they would rather gouge their eyes out with a wooden spoon than read anything Star Wars) and specifically to share fic in that fandom. They joined, because we all love a good fic rec, only to discover that their latest multichapter fic, which has almost no comments and very few kudos, is being hotly discussed in this server as one of the best stories ever. Not one of these people has bothered to say this to them on the fic. When they asked, none of participants could see the point in telling the author of the fic they apparently loved so much that they love it.

This discovery has absolutely destroyed my friend's love of sharing fic. They share because they love seeing other people's enjoyment, and fic writers do that through comments and kudos/reblogs/likes because we don't get paid. There is no literary critic writing a blog post/article about how amazing the story is for us to copy and keep/frame. There is no money from royalties. All we have are the words of the people reading our works.

Those people on that server could have taken five minutes of the time they spent gushing about how amazing my friend's story was to other people and used it to tell the one person guaranteed to want to hear that praise how much they loved it. They could have taken a moment to express their opinion to the person who spent hours upon hours plotting, writing, editing, and posting those chapters. Instead, they deprived my friend of thing that keeps them sharing their writing, and in the process have killed their love of it. My friend now feels used and unmotivated.

I won't be sharing a link to their fic, they said I could share their experience but not their identity. I know they plan to post one final chapter. I know they intend to express their hurt at being excluded from the praise for the thing they created, and I know they intend to announce that as a consequence they will not be posting for a long while, if at all.

So please, I beg you, don't hide your love of a story from the writer. It's just about the only thing we have.

[lillypad-monopoly]

Wild Life Episode 5 Thoughts

(Except I'm insane about Martyn's ep)

LIFE SERIES TRIVIA is DIABOLICAL! The watchers literally being like "how well do you guys know your pain and suffering?" (also sorry only winners remember theory truthers)

The way Grian and Scar are such bitter ex-soulmates that Mumbo has to point it out is hilarious. (also them getting even and saying "Just like Third Life" hurt my heart)

Grian not remembering iconic moments from his own series is so funny. What do you mean he only knows Martyn beheaded Ren with an axe from fanart? Grian gaining possession of the Red Winter Axe was a whole plot point.

MUMBO FIRST OUT! IN SESSION 5! The canary curse is broken for real now guys but at what cost.

Grian standing on the ruins of the tower by himself going through the five stages of grief over Mumbo's death as the sun rises in the background is a gorgeous piece of fanart waiting to happen

Martyn you didn't need to start the episode by talking about how Ren is providing for you, you're asking for the shipping at this point 🤣

MARTYN YOU DO THE LORE OFC JIMMY AND TANGO WERE OUT FIRST. Also REN YOU WERE LITERALLY IN DOUBLE LIFE. RIP Ren/BigB we know where his true loyalties lie

THE TWO NICKLES MEME BREAKING CONTAINMENT I CAN'T

Ren inviting BigB to join the RenWood Mound alliance WITHOUT REMEMBERING DOUBLE LIFE is so insane I don't even know what to say.

OF COURSE SCAR REMEMBERS THE DESERT DUO FLOWERS I'M GOING TO BE SICK

Martyn and Ren saying they're going to be boat bros. This has been coming since last session but I NEED Joel and Etho to call them out on it

"We're boat boys," MARTYN INTHELITTLEWOOD WHEN I CATCH YOU-

Etho yelling for Bdubs to hit him so they could test if the wildcard affected damage and then Tango going "smack me harder~" in the background was diabolical. Suuuure you guys are all PG.

Etho sitting in a boat for Joel to jump over him feels like some boat boys relationship symbolism I'm not smart enough to explain

So Etho is currently living with team BET, but allied with the Four Gs, and in the family with Gem and Joel. Wildcard Etho is so back!

Of course Impulse immediately remembered the clock question.

Joel boasting about how he immediately knows all the questions is peak Joel form and I would expect nothing less. It is kind of warranted though because everybody else is waffling on the simple ones.

Joel is now two for two on unquestioningly trusting Etho only to have something bad happen to him and not even being mad about it what is wrong with this man 😭

Does Joel have the censor bleep on his keyboard or did he just straight up start swearing at Tango and know they would both have to censor it in post to get the effect that he was also making the noise?

Scott's gone from a creaking fanboy to a body horror situation and I'm living for it (also considering he's agreed to "go wild" this session--am I sensing a Scott corruption arc?)

Scott cutting directly from saying he and Jimmy were never married even though they called each other husbands to a scene WITH Jimmy was kind of an insane choice

Gaslight Gatekeep Girlboss Girldad has been confirmed by Scott as the actual reason for the 4Gs. I still think Gaslight Gatekeep Girlboss ImpulseSV is funnier but good to have an official ruling

Scott giving up his life for Pearl and them being good natured about it and calling it therapy! I love them so much!

Lizzie being the only person who's not exicted when a trivia bot spawns is so funny. Even the other players who weren't in all the seasons don't seem to be as miffed by them as she is.

Lizzie's flaming snail arising out of that hole while smiling is potentially the funniest thing I've seen all day. Why did it look like that 🤣

[idontliekmondays]

the halifax mass shooting plot or der untergang

what was this? who planned it? where?

the halifax mass shooting plot was the idea that lindsay souvannarath, james gamble, and randall ’randy’ shepherd came up with to commit a mass shooting at a shopping centre in halifax, nova scotia, on valentine’s day.

more on who

lindsay souvannarath was 23 years old when she was arrested. she was born in chicago, illinois, on january 9, 1992, and lived there up until the time of the planned shooting. she pleaded guilty to conspiracy to commit murder and was sentenced to life in prison with no chance of parole. she’s still serving her sentence, and her most recent request for appeal in 2019 was denied.

james gamble was 19 years old at the time of his death on february 12, 2015. he was born in halifax, nova scotia, on august 6, 1995. there doesn’t seem to be much information available about what was done with his remains after death.

randall ‘randy’ shepherd was 20 years old when he was arrested on february 13. he was born in victoria, british columbia, on july 4, 1994. shortly after his birth, he and his family moved to halifax, nova scotia. he pleaded guilty to conspiracy to commit murder and was sentenced to 10 years in jail. he was released due to statutory release in 2021 after serving seven years and four months; however, he was ordered to stay off the internet and was to live in a halfway house in nova scotia.

how did randy and james meet?

both randy and james attended a high school located a short distance outside of halifax, which is where “they met and bonded over metal music, horror movies, marijuana, and a shared fascination with death and morbidity, often focusing on school shootings and mass murders.”

both were described as having increasing mental struggles following up to the incident.

as time passed, james considered committing a mass killing in halifax. he asked randy to be his partner in crime, who refused but continued to be a willing audience to his ideas.

how did lindsay meet them? what was her relationship with james like?

on december of 2014, james began to follow lindsay because of a “justgirlythings” meme she had posted onto her tumblr. it was captioned “not being able to live without your best friend” and was edited to have the columbine library photo underneath. they started messaging on facebook after this and formed a friendship quickly.

court documents state lindsay and james would repeatedly claim that they were adopting the personas of eric harris and dylan klebold, respectively. lindsay even said she felt the spirit of eric harris was taking over her body at times. they would refer to each other as reb and vodka and often speak of going “nbk” and quote passages to each other from the journals of the columbine shooters.

they also had a similar taste in music and lindsay introduced him to national socialist black metal.

their friendship blossomed into something more sexual that included sending nudes and sexting as they began to plan the shooting and then into something romantic as james began to show a lot of affection and attachment.

they expressed that they believed they were fated to each other and that their destiny was to commit this massacre and to die together. they “just felt like their relationship was destiny.”

the preparation

one of the first things they did was start thinking of possible locations. lindsay left most of that up to james. he came up with various ideas, such as a hospital, a library, and an elementary school, all of which lindsay disagreed with because she thought they would send the wrong message.

one location she ended up agreeing to was a mall.

“it was kind of this symbolism of western decadence and the modern world in general. just the idea of this place where people go to consume. it seemed like it would be a protest against capitalism, against consumerism, against greed.”

“i believe it was the film dawn of the dead that had zombies attacking the shopping mall, and it was supposed to be like this metaphor for our modern society and how obsessed with consumption it is. so i thought that would be perfect.”

in february of 2015, james and randy went to the halifax shopping centre and filmed videos of where the shooting was planned to happen. these were referred to as their “basement tapes.”

in one of these videos, they discussed how the temporary walls in the food court might block some of the shots, and randy stated that if at least one person from his high school was killed, the attack would be worth it. in another one of these, james calmly stares into the camera and says, “you're lucky i couldn’t get any more bullets.”

the plan

the mass shooting was to take place on valentines day, february 14, at the halifax shopping centre food court. the shopping centre was chosen with the intention to cause “mass panic.” (the date of the shooting was switched due to price increases on tickets. the original date was february 1st. james had the idea to change the date to valentines day because there would be more people in the food court and the time and he believed it would be more shocking.)

lindsay would travel by air to halifax to meet james on february 13.

james was to shoot both of his parents before lindsay arrived.

they would both then spend the night together in the gamble residence.

randy hoped to be shot and killed by james the same evening as a form of assisted suicide. (lindsay was not involved with this part of the plan). james wanted randy to make a video recording of the shooting instead of committing suicide.

the next day they would begin the shooting in the food court, which was the area they believed would provide them the most cover.

they were going to go into the food court bathrooms, change outfits, get their weapons and come out and open fire.

they were going to start the shooting by throwing molotov cocktails into the food court. (randy was to provide six bottles for the molotov cocktails.)

james was to arm himself with his father’s lever-action hunting rifle along with a hunting knife.

lindsay would be armed with his father’s single-action 16-gauge shotgun.

each was to wear previously selected death outfits that, in many ways, were chosen to pay tribute to the columbine shooters.

they wanted to shoot as many people as their ammunition allowed.

they were going to save their last bullets for themselves and “just like columbine” they would kneel facing each other and shoot themselves on the count of three.

what actually happened

the morning of feburary 12, 2015, lindsay snuck out of her family home and began the trip to halifax. she described herself as “very eager, very excited, very very thrilled to be leaving home.”

james then faltered in his plans to murder his parents and sent lindsay a facebook message that read, “i’m going to have to wait until tomorrow to kill them” and “you’ll have to stay at randy’s for the night.”

the same day of february 12, crime stoppers received an anonymous tip. a summary of the tip is as follows:

two people are posting on social media sites that they plan to shoot up the mall in halifax, nova scotia.

the two people are obsessed with school shootings.

a female is to leave chicago on a delta airlines flight to meet up with a male who has weapons for them to use.

the female is asian, known as lindsay, last name unknown but begins with “s”, she is approximately twenty-three years old, born 01-16-92 and is 5’3’’ tall and weighs 90lbs. lindsay has black shoulder length hair, which is dyed red right now and she wears brown framed glasses;

lindsay is friends with the male, james gamble;

lindsay has multiple social media accounts such as a facebook under the name “lindsay shubniggurath”, a tumblr account under the name “cockswastika”, and skype account under the name “thenewheresy”.

the male is james gamble, white male, nineteen years old, born 08-06-95, and is described as very skinny with dark brown hair parted to one side;

james gamble lives in halifax, nova scotia;

the anonymous source has not met james gamble in person;

james gamble is lindsay’s friend from online;

james has several social media accounts such as a facebook account under the name “james gamble” and a tumblr account under the name “shallowexistences”.

the canadian border services agency was contacted and issued a lookout to their agents to identify anyone who might match the description of the female.

soon officers arrived at the gamble residence in timberlea, nova scotia. james was contacted by telephone and suggested to exit the residence, which he agreed to do. instead, he committed suicide by shooting himself in the head with a single bullet from his father’s hunting rifle.

as previously agreed on, shepherd arrived at the stanfield international airport by city bus to pick up lindsay. he messaged lindsay and reiterated that james was behind on schedule killing his parents and that she would have to stay with him for the night.

lindsay landed in halifax at midnight, february 13th. at 12:10am she presented herself to primary immigration and spoke to a CBSA agent. the national lookout did not raise a flag at the time.

the CBSA agent was concerned by lindsay regardless. she communicated to him that she flew to canada on a one way ticket, had only $33, and did not know where her boyfriend lived. the agent thought that she may have been attempting to bring drugs into canada and noted that “she had very bad teeth and her complexion was very bad with scars on her face. this made me think that she may be on drugs.”

the agent directed lindsay to a secondary immigration examination as well as a secondary customs inspection.

she was questioned at secondary immigration by an agent. the agent questioned lindsay and confirmed that she didn’t know where she was going, had a small amount of money, and did not have a return ticket. lindsay communicated that she was in halifax to have a “memorable” valentine’s day weekend with her boyfriend who she had previously met online. she further communicated that randy was at the airport to pick her up, which was confirmed by CBSA officials.

the contents of her luggage were searched. she had little with her, aside from some makeup, her death outfit, and two books on serial killers.

while she was being dealt with by agents, officials reviewed the national lookout and determined that lindsay may be the person of interest.

police soon arrived at the airport and quickly arrested both randy and lindsay.

their online trail

they left a steady trail of posts referencing the planned shooting. there was a playlist posted on lindsay's tumblr blog to “cement the aesthetic” along with countless other posts hinting towards their plan. lindsay also queued her manifesto to post on her blog after the shooting.

my main source

[yuqsdug]

In the one (1) Block Tales comic i've made so far, I drew the player as this R15 model Noob with modern day Roblox chat. Since blocktales can have four (4) players in a battle, I decided to draw the rest of the sqaud.

OBLIGATORY SEBASTIAN SOLICE

Drew him from memory

READ MORE ABOUT THESE BLOCK TALES CHARACTERS? down below

So you want to know more about these goobers hm?

[Player] (yes that's his name)

- Despite his very cheerful demeanor, he can make grudges extremely easy.

- He's the only one of the squad who talks in modern chat bubbles. Something must've went wrong when he time traveled.

- He still uses R15 because he didn't want to lose his elbows. He needs those to throw balls, Okay?!

- He may, possibly, be abusing the ghost Walker for meaningless- and legally dubious- means. He's not paying for a 777 tix card!

- Was the only who got to experience the later half demo 3. He was quite surprised to be in a hospital after defeating IT. His friends were hovering woriedly over his bed.

- Hatred was particularly strong in this one.

BaconBoy

- Brother of BaconGirl

- Quite a skitish boy, Easily scared. He did not like Telamon's manor ONE BIT!

- the time when his model type was added to Roblox left quite an impact on him. Why were people so mean?

- he forgot to change his scale before time traveling, so now he towers over most people they encounter. Now he's noticed even more and bumps his head on doors... Yay...

- He doesn't know a lot about Roblox before 2016. So the meaning of the swords their collecting is a bit lost on him. He can't help but be a bit fearful of them. The previous holders of the Icedagger and Venomshank seemed to be going insane. And his friends seen awfully attached to the swords they have collected. He hopes everything will end fine.

- FEAR is strong in this one

BaconGirl

- Sister of baconboy

- She can't handle being alone well. Being alone for a short time causes great feeling of solitude. She's always with atleast one of her friends.

- She's in charge of snack duty, she got the biggest bag after all. Someone low on HP? A burger is ready. Low on SP? the Bloxycola is already in your hand. Low on Tix? That's something she can't fix.

- She the only one of the group who realised they should be in the R6 model when they time traveled. She thought the rest also knew this, apparently not.

- The Icedagger is her FAVORITE weapon. Just focus a bit and heal EVERYONE? yes please! ####, She'd let this thing freeze her for less.

- She's a bit cold to the touch

- Solitude is strong in this one

Ann

- short for androgynous default (who is naming these children?)

- Very chaotic person

- They kill every enemy in their wake, be it bird, Mosquito, or zombie. Getting 0 xp does not bring them joy.

- Always has hard mode enable to get more Xp. This has absolutely backfired multiple times.

- They will come up for their friends, every good friend does that! Including when BaconBoy burgers contain pickles.

- Their a fan of the Venomshank. An AOE attack also afflicting poison is. the. best! The pretty flowers coming out of the enemies is a plus too.

- Greed is very strong in this one.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Thanks for reading that btw.

The drawings were made on my phone.

(trying to post thing broke my Tumblr, lol)

[satanghulu]

take what’s yours

✦ PAIRING: solomon/mammon ✦ SUMMARY: The four times Mammon “rejects” a gift and the one time he accepts them. or alternatively: Mammon is a loser and in denial about his feelings. ✦ WARNING: fluff, huge denial on mammon’s part (I mean come on, what did you expect?), solomon is a HUGE tease freak, explicit language   ✦ WC: 4.3K

══════════════════

WATCH: traitor - Olivia Rodrigo

He stares at the outstretched hand, blinking in loud confusion.

“What’s this?” The suspicion in Mammon’s voice was enough to render one speechless but Solomon was nothing if not special.

“This is for you.” He says, taking delight in the way the white-haired demon’s eyebrows shoot up into the depth of his hair. It was a charming sight, and Solomon will keep it in the depths of his head.

For the first time in Mammon’s life, he’s been rendered speechless.

It’s more like his brain had shut down at the sight of the watch he so badly wanted. The shine, the craftsmanship, the way it glittered in the lights. He wouldn’t admit it but he was freaking out.

“W-wha-” He managed to sputter out, not knowing if he should take a step forward to take a closer look at the watch or take a step back because Solomon is a freak. Like, who the hell would get a luxury watch for someone they weren’t close with?

“You posted it on Devilgram a week back,” Solomon says nonchalantly as if it was the normal thing in the world.

The demon nodded, carried away by the luster of his voice. Suddenly smacked by the reality of the situation, Mammon shook his head profusely to the point where his sunglasses almost flew off.

The radiance of the watch was calling to him but there is no way he is going to accept a gift from this shady ass sorcerer. For all he knew, he could have planted a curse on the watch – maybe he was secretly waiting for Mammon to touch the watch which would transform him into a beetle and then he would trap him in an airtight bottle and then—

Yeah, no way he was accepting it.

Though, he did dream about the watch the night before. No matter how he tried to turn his head away, his feet were rooted to the ground and the cloud of Greed seemed to be calling, no, clamouring for him to take what was his.

Brring!

A sharp ringtone cut through the stifling air. The gaze that Solomon was pinning him down with, felt hot as if it was burning lasers onto his skin. Though, Mammon knew it wasn’t tangible and impossible to do so.

He picks up the phone instead.

“Where are you?” It was his younger brother on the line, voice prickly and irritable as usual.

“RAD.” He replied, still squinting at the outstretched hand holding the next potential love of his life. (Goldie would still be first but this would be a tough fight for the crown.)

“Get your ass back, we’re on cooking duty today.” With a hiss, the call ends abruptly.

Mammon frowns, staring at the lock screen which coincidentally was a product picture of the watch. His younger brother should really treat him with more respect – he was the second oldest after all.

“Ah, you have to get back home.” With a flourish, the sorcerer pockets the watch and gestured for him to go on ahead.

As always, his mouth moved faster than his brain.

“I’ll get ya’ back.” He said, totally not shouting with his clenched fist pointing at Solomon. From today onwards, the sorcerer had become his nemesis. So what if Solomon had won the auction and gotten the watch? He didn’t have to flaunt it in front of him, did he?

No, he wasn’t jealous. He definitely wasn’t bemoaning the fact that the antique watch he had been eyeing had been bought by the sham of a sorcerer in front of him. He did see the listing being taken down a couple of days ago but he thought it was just a website error.

The white-haired sorcerer just lets out a chuckle.

“Sure, looking forward to it.”

Mammon totally didn’t feel his traitor of a heart skip a beat at the sound of it. It was just a moment of weakness, he told himself.

BAND: time of our lives - DAY6

Solomon cornered him a whole week after the initial interaction, looking intimidatingly handsome. (Mammon was not keeping count of the days, nor was he looking out at every corner he rounded. He just didn’t want to see that stupid sorcerer.)

“Hello.” The man says, looking infuriatingly put-together whereas Mammon felt like his heart was going to jump out of his chest. “I’m glad to have finally caught you today.”

“Y-ya’ what?” His voice came choked out, as he half-yells at his face. Solomon was nice enough not to mention the sprinkle of saliva as he courteously wiped at his face, all while keeping eye contact with him.

Solomon stares at him. “Yeah, it seemed like you were avoiding me this week.”

“Eek!” Mammon says before immediately choking on his own spit. The sorcerer just waits for him to catch his breath, a mirthful look on his face.

“I wasn’t.” He replied through gritted teeth, decidedly avoiding eye contact with the exchange student in front of him. “I wasn’t.” He affirmed once again, the urge to turn tail and run growing stronger.

“You weren’t?” Solomon takes a step closer, the clack of his dress shoes sounding unimaginably loud. “Strange. I swore I called out your name yesterday but you pushed Satan ahead and ran away.”

Mammon yelps again.

“Anyways, we can put that behind us.” Interestingly, the sorcerer whipped out two pieces of paper from the depths of his pocket. Mammon wonders if his pockets are enchanted because it seems that he never ran out of things to pull out.

“Tada.” Upon closer look, it looked like tickets to a concert though the fine print was a tad too small for him to read. And it also appeared that Solomon had been waiting for a reaction from him.

“Uh…” He pushes the tickets into Mammon’s hands, giving him a smile that makes his eyes crinkle up. All Mammon could do was stare at him with his mouth agape as the sorcerer lifted up a hand to pat him on the head.

“I’m leaving now. Have fun.” That was all he said before he left, the click-clack of his shoes getting on his nerves. Embarrassingly, his knees went weak and he slid to the floor despite his attempt to stand straight.

What the fuck?

His sunglasses slid off the apex of his nose bridge. He looked down at the tickets, now crushed in his clenched fists. They were tickets to a band that was playing this weekend. Mammon had been a long-time fan of them, even having a couple of merchandise plastered in his room.

He had tried ticketing for the concert when they released the tickets but had eventually failed. (His credit card had failed on the checkout page, the balance being a dollar short. By the time he had Lucifer’s card in hand, it was sold out.)

Though, how did Solomon know that he was a fan of them?

AMUSEMENT PARK: despair - leo.

Mammon couldn’t fathom how he got into this situation.

The stupid-looking lizard on Solomon’s head was pissing him off even more. He felt like reaching up and pulling that idiotic tongue hanging out from the lizard’s mouth.

“Should we take a photo together?” The man behind his current complication asked.

Before he could even utter a word, Solomon had already stopped a passerby to get them to take a photo for them. Mammon could only silently grate his teeth and plastered on a smile that probably seemed closer to a grimace.

“Aw, both of you are so cute.” The passerby commented, handing back the D.D.D to the sorcerer. “Is that the zombie iguana matching headbands?”

“Yes, it is.” Solomon quickly replies, grabbing onto Mammon’s arm which was starting to flail about in protest. Mammon shoots the sorcerer the dirtiest stink eye he could muster but keeps his mouth shut. “Thank you and I hope you have a great time too.”

An elbow to Mammon’s side and a whispered smile! made him turn to the stranger with a forced grin and pleasantries. He honestly couldn’t be bothered to even talk to them but the counterfeit of a sorcerer was forcing him to.

If memory serves him right, hadn’t Solomon once used his magic to make his D.D.D. float and take a picture?

Well, it wasn’t like Mammon had any right to complain right now. Before he could continue arguing with himself in his head, Solomon tapped him on the shoulder.

“Should we try that one out?”

Following Solomon’s finger, his eyes landed on the inordinately typical claw machine. It was blasting some typical pop music that he hears every day from Asmo’s room during his morning routine.

“...Fine.”

As much as he wanted to say no, the sorcerer’s gaze was becoming too burdensome to look at. The brown hues in his eyes seemed to stand out under the horrendous lighting of the carnival. Mammon couldn’t believe it. How could one still look so handsome against this shitty background with dreadful lights?

Subconsciously, he furrows his eyebrows. He doesn’t think that even he would look good in this set-up. And he was a model, on the front page of Devil’s Style too!

“I got it.”

“Huh?” He hadn’t even noticed that he was looking at Solomon’s hands which were wrapped around the knob of the claw machine. Dazed, Mammon shook his head trying to clear his thoughts.

“For you.”

Solomon pushes the grey blob that vaguely resembles a ball into his arms. Curious, he lifted it up against the lights and squinted closely at it.

“It reminded me of you.”

???

 It seemed to be an animal from the human world. The stocky animal with a black mask was getting on his nerves with its mischievous expression. For some odd reason, he felt like he was being taunted.

“HUH, whadda did ya’ mean-” He snapped, eyes flying up to meet the dumb grin on his face.

“It’s cute like you.”

He felt his jaw unhinged from where it was supposed to be. His arms had a mind of their own and he almost flung the stuffed toy across the area. His face felt hot and now, he was absolutely sure the awful sorcerer was doing it to get under his skin.

“You little-” 

“Thank you for making time today. This was sufficient repayment for bringing someone else to the concert.” Solomon says, cutting him again.

Mammon opens his mouth to complain but decides against it. Even he knew he was wrong in bringing Asmo to the concert but how would he have known that the two tickets were supposedly meant for Solomon as well?!

“Well, do me a favour and let me know why did we have to come to this place?”

Still, he couldn’t stop himself from asking the burning question that had been plaguing him ever since the white-haired human had told him to meet at the entrance of HOL.

“Asmo told me it’s a great spot for a date.”

This time, Mammon just stared straight at him, mouth parted again. Can living for too long mess with one’s mind? 

He and his brothers are fine, but maybe a human might be affected differently. Though, it did look more likely that the sorcerer just had a screw loose in his head.

“We’re on a date?”

“We’re not?”

Mammon emphatically does not answer back, inhaling a soft intake of breath.

Yeah, humans are just weird like that. He chanted to himself, trying hard to disregard the fact that he was still tightly clutching onto the gifted plushie.

MATCHING KEYCHAINS: so american - Olivia Rodrigo

He was starting to get concerned at how often he had been running into Solomon these days.

“Uh… what are you doing here?”

Mammon peers at the white-haired sorcerer who is waiting patiently on the doorstep of HOL. The sorcerer rummages through his pocket before bringing out a single stalk of flower — a bright garish yellow that honestly kind of hurt his eyes.

“For you.”

He nonchalantly hands the stalk of flower over, taking advantage of Mammon’s confusion to make his way into the house.

Oh hell, Lucifer is going to have a fit. Mammon faintly thinks, fingers clenched tightly over the stalk. Now that he had a closer look, it seemed like the petals were faintly sparkling with gold iridescent glitters.

“I tried my hands at growing flowers for a spell,” Solomon said casually, shrugging off his overcoat. He watches as the sorcerer folds it neatly to hang it over his arm before turning to face him.

“Lucifer has been asking me to head up into the human world to collect something.” Mammon tries hard not to stare at the way his shoulders roll in the tight-fitting shirt. “I was hoping you would be free to accompany me?”

His mouth feels like it’s filled with cotton.

“Yes?” He finally says, still managing to embarrass himself. Mammon wishes he could come up with something cooler to say. The white-haired sorcerer flashes him a smile before taking a couple of steps to grab his arm.

“I am the magician Solomon... Heed my words!” As Solomon finishes his incarnation, his vision begins to spin. Suddenly aware, Mammon grips onto the sorcerer’s arm tightly, squeezing his eyes shut. His mouth opens and before he could let out a shout–

In that split second, he was already out in a grimy alleyway, the flickering lights casting shadows on the ground. He waits for his heart to slow down, looking at the puddle of water on the ground. He was never going to try teleportation again. It felt like he had been punched in the guts.

“Ah, it looked like it rained,” Solomon says, chin lifted high up to look at the dull sky. Mammon quickly lets go of the sorcerer’s arm, patting down his jacket which had become wrinkled during the short journey.

“What do you need to do?” He asked, rolling his tongue over his teeth. The air tastes crisp, with a tart tinge to it.

“Found it.” Solomon spotted something in the corner of his vision and walked over to pick it up. “Wanna walk around for a bit?”

The sorcerer muttered a spell under his breath and the once-huge box had shrunken down into a miniature square that could fit in the middle of his palm. It was done in such a flashy way that even Mammon couldn’t muster up any words (at how cool it was).

“Ya know my time costs money, right?” Mammon shrugs, evidently trying not to think of the implication behind it. The crushed flower stalk was still in his hands and he quickly shoved it into the depths of his pockets. “Count your lucky stars. For today, I will make it free.”

“Don’t worry about me. I’ll be able to afford it.”

He ignores the words, walking out of the alleyway into a bustling street. The sorcerer falls into step beside him, a quiet silence taking over.

“Should we go here?”

Mammon shoots a sidelong look at him before turning to take in the eerie signboard that was hanging on by a thread. “Here?”

“Yeah, doesn’t it look fun?” The sorcerer’s eyes were bright and twinkling with a sort of madness. The demon turns to stare at the dreary storefront that sends a chill down his bones. Even a demon knew better than to mess with a store like this but alas, Solomon the Wise Sorcerer, had already made his way into the shop.

“Are you gonna get something here?” Mammon half-whispers at the sorcerer, who is humming a delightful tune that he recognises as the soundtrack from the third installment of TSL.

The demon sticks close to the sorcerer, looking around cautiously. When the sorcerer stops in his tracks, Mammon almost runs into him. He stuck his hands out just in time, trying hard not to lock eyes with the shopkeeper’s cat.

“Isn’t this cute?”

Mammon barely notices the keyring on Solomon’s fingers before giving an affirmative hum. He was far too focused on keeping tabs on the tiny black cat which had been baring its teeth. The cat had been staring at him ever since he walked into the shop and it was giving him the creeps.

“Are you having a staring contest with the cat?” 

An amused voice broke his concentration, leading him to frantically shake his head. From his peripheral, the cat stretches and yawns before slinking away. Somehow, it felt like Mammon had lost the fight.

Solomon gestured for him to sit on the bench located at the side of the store. Curiously, Mammon followed in his footsteps noting that the sorcerer kept his hands in his pocket the entire way.

Once settled, he tilts his head at the demon as if he were a cat, ready to pounce at his prey. The flash of the keychain glittered under the dim lights.

“I got this for you.”

It was a tiny metallic crow keychain. “Not taking it? That’s unlike you, Avatar of Greed.” Solomon cocks an eyebrow at him, playfully swinging the keychain back and forth.

He snatches the item from him, dimly noting that it looked similar to his own familiars — the three-legged crows are a rare commodity in the human world, yet there was one right in front of him. Even he was starting to get suspicious of how much information the human knew about him.

“I have the same one too.”

He was sure a strangled noise came out of his throat when he realised that the matching keychain was attached to the edge of the D.D.D. that Solomon was holding up.

“What are you doing?” He chose to ignore the burning sensation that flared across his entire face as his fingers flexed around the keychain. It was a small thing, the way he noticed Solomon’s quirk on his lips or the way he thought Solomon looked good in the low light.

“What do you mean?” The irritating fraud of a human asked back, the curve of his lips stretching impossibly wide.

He didn’t know if he wanted to smack it off or kiss it off his face.

“What is all of this supposed to mean?” His voice was starting to border on a shout, and he couldn’t help but notice that they were having this conversation in a dingy store.

This was not where he wanted to have this conversation, he thinks while furrowing his eyebrows.

“I’ve thought that I’ve made it clear?” This time, Solomon crosses his arms as he purses his lips. “I’m trying to court you. Isn’t this what demons do?” 

His stomach goes sour at the statement. Everything suddenly starts to burn — his face to the bottom of his toes, as he tries to swallow his saliva.

“W-we do this?” The words start tumbling out without his approval, snowballing into a bigger problem. Mammon always had difficulty stopping his words once they started. “You like me?” 

There, he said it.

The human paused and looked at him with such a soft look that he felt his insides twist.

“Yes.” He laughs, light and airy. “Mammon, I’ve been trying all this while.” He whispers, and Mammon is suddenly painfully aware of his growing heartbeat, getting faster by the second.

NECKLACE: i wanna be your boyfriend - hot freaks

“Should we head out?”

Solomon rises to his feet, sticking out a hand for Mammon to grab. He gives him a smile, murky in the emotion it was supposed to convey. Confronted with all the facts on the table, the demon doesn’t know how to respond.

The sorcerer’s shoulder rises and falls.

Before he could drop his hand, Mammon reaches out to snatch it. He propels all the way to the door, the cheery ringing of the doorbell sending them on their merry way. Solomon throws out a goodbye! to the shopkeeper (or the cat, he doesn’t know) as he stumbles along.

The white-haired demon continues to walk ahead, dragging Solomon slowly by the arm.

“Do you know where you’re going?”

He doesn’t. But Mammon would rather let the Devildom freeze over before he would open his mouth and tell him that.

“Head to the right, there should be a park there.” Pointedly, he steers the direction to the left. Behind him, the sorcerer lets out a fond exasperated laugh. “Oh you’re right, I think it was to the left.”

The park soon came into view. Relieved, he tried to loosen his grip on the sorcerer’s arm but the accompanying squeeze stopped him. He chanced a glance back and Solomon shook his head. Mammon could feel a hot flush on his face.

“Let’s stop here,” Solomon calls out gently, coming to a stop.

Mammon pauses in his tracks.

“Are ya’ for real?” He starts, narrowing his eyes at the other party like he couldn’t believe he was actually here, in the flesh. “Like you ain’t jokin’ or something?”

“I thought I had already made myself clear enough.” Was the only response that the white-haired human deigned to bestow upon him. He stands there with a pleased smile like a cat that got the cream.

Maybe he was really being genuine in his affection.

“If I find out you’re jokin’ or something–”

“I assure you, I am definitely not.” Solomon stops and stares at him, eyes wider than usual. More predatory than usual. It made Mammon uneasy. “Look, I thought demon culture was all about making the initiative to gift something first.”

“What?” Mammon cranes his neck further, whipping to fix him with an unimpressed look. He had heard about this in passing. “Isn’t that only for royalty or something?”

“Asmo said you would like it.” The sorcerer remarked, timbre distinct in a way that scratches Mammon’s brain just right. “You don’t like the presents?”

“No!” Mammon gnaws on his lips as he stops himself mid-sentence. He seemed to come to a terrible realisation by himself, scratching at his head. 

“I like it.” He replied with a horrified expression, face twisted into an expression of disgust. “What in the actual hell?”

The sorcerer nods at him encouragingly like he is playing along with a toddler. “Uh-huh, continue.”

“What the fuck? Does this mean I like you?” The demon’s face was still pinched but he seemed less startled now. The sorcerer slaps his hand onto Mammon’s right thigh and peers at him, giving him that weird toothy grin that makes his heart race.

“I don’t know. You tell me.”

Mammon felt cold and nauseous all at once. There was a moment of silence as the sorcerer leaned back to wait. Surprisingly, Mammon doesn’t feel too opposed to the idea of being courted by him.

Huh.

He thinks for a second, lost in his thoughts. He turns the proposal once more over in his head and realises he really won’t mind. And that does something funny to his stomach. 

“I have something for you.”

Lost in his thoughts, he barely notices when the sorcerer’s fingers trace their way up to find his to lace them together. He rummages through his pocket to pull out the box that Mammon recognises as the delivery he was supposed to hand off to the firstborn. 

“I pulled some strings with Lucifer’s connections to get this.” He brings out a tinier square box, before shoving the original item back into his pocket. He pushes Mammon’s palm open, placing the square box into his palm.

“What’s this?” The demon just raises his hand, lifting it up to eye level to examine it closer. It was miniature, shaking in the light wind breeze.

“By the will of the sorcerer Solomon, let this box return to how it was before." The low whisper made Mammon shiver. He watches in amazement as the box shakes before restoring to its original size.

The box opens with a flourish, the gleam of the gold-plated chain catching in the sunlight. It was heavy and the authentication card for the necklace stared back at him. The shadow of Greed looms over him and he takes in a shaky inhale, leg tapping on the ground rapidly.

“Ta-da!” The sorcerer says with a cheer.

He swallows, the space in the back of his throat dry. He holds onto the box, letting the emotion settle into his heart like honey. He fights it down.

“For me?” He croaks, voice stuck like gum that had dried up in the sun. Solomon nods, bringing the necklace out of the box.

It was a dainty thing. Diamond-shaped and gold, just the way he liked it.

“Wear it for me?”

Mammon nods, turning around to let him clasp it. He stares at the yellow ducklings in the far distance, trying not to think too much about the way his skin tingles whenever Solomon touches him.

“Pretty.”

“W-what?” Mammon is baffled at his silver tongue, face red all over again. There was a snort coming from the sorcerer. “Ya’ can’t just say that! You have to take responsibility!”

“I am trying to.” Solomon lets out a laugh, leaning into his space. Mammon wonders how long it would take to get used to him. It was irritating that he was still so flustered. “Are you free tomorrow so that I can finally take you out on a proper date?”

“Ya’ gotta know the Great Mammon is very busy!” He starts, mentally checking his schedule for the next day. “But you’ll be glad to know that he has time to spare after RAD–”

“What? Don’t laugh at me!” He growls at the sorcerer, who is now uncontainably laughing while clutching his stomach.

“N-no, you’re just so cute.” He finally barks out, wiping away a tear. He straightens up, shoulders hunched as he breathes out a sigh of relief. “And I’m just so happy you said yes.” 

Mammon’s heart skips another beat.

Oh. He’s in for a ride, he thinks faintly. 

Somehow, he liked the sound of it.

══════════════════

a/n ▸HAPPY LUPE DAY!!! (@lonely-north-star we love you). this is brought to you by @sheepthatgobaa & i <3 her fanart can be found HERE (pretty please, take a look thank you) also, songs were chosen by kelo & i <3 not beta-read because I forgot timezones existed and I procrastinated.... 

[laswells-ashtray]

Okay, I heard you were running out of ideas for Sergeant Price and Mac and HOPEFULLY this is the last idea you get before you get a break from the two knuckleheads. Anyhow: colorblind John. Whether it be from an injury, or he was born with it, Mac finds it funny either way to fuck with the boy.

I could imagine that one day John is sitting around in Mac’s office messing with a color cube he had on his desk and getting happy when he had ‘solved’ it. On instinct the Captain looks over because for one, he’s never been able to solve the bitch, and for two, John’s excitement had him wondering if he’d actually been able to solve the bitch.

To his surprise, the cube was still switched around, even looking a bit worse for wear in some circumstances and yet John just grinned at Mac with the proudest, most cockiest grin ever, and that’s when he realized that his Sergeant was colorblind.

How had he never seen this before?

Each time John would take a colored pen from his desk to do a word search or when he’d color in his brain books and the pictures would turn out a colorful mess, he’d always thought that John was fucking with him and was just doing it to mess up his stuff.

Oh how wrong he was, and how hilarious this situation is.

I could also imagine that, from then on, when John went to do anything involving color, he’d ask him what color he was using, and each time John would answer with the wrong color.

He realises and for a second he feels bad, was he wrong to just assume that the boy was deliberately fucking up? He can't bear to tell him that the Rubik's cube isn't solved because he looks so damn proud and hell, sometimes when your toddler points at a distorted blob they drew and tell you it's a giraffe, you just have to agree.

He decides to further test this revelation, purely for science before he outright tells John that for his entire life, he's been colouring the grass red.

So, he waits until John is in his office one day and makes himself seem busy with a stack of papers in front of him. He sits four files in front of John. And four post-it notes with little notes. One blue, one green, one yellow and one pink. Each file has a coloured scribble on the top right corner in a corresponding colour. He casually asks John to put the right note with each file. It should be easy, right? Each file has a colour at the top for each note and Mac is just so busy with useless paperwork that the brass is hounding him about.

He feels bad because the lad is willing to help, John might be an arse but he's a good guy and he'd never say no to helping Mac. He'd just say yes reluctantly.

He feels even worse when John finishes the task and hands it over happily, asking if Mac has anything else he could help with. He got the blue and yellow notes right, the green and pink not so much.

"John, I have a question and I want you to answer me honestly. Can you do that for me, lad?"

"Yeah, what is it?"

"What colour is this?"

"Red, why?"

"Son, I love you and I admire your confidence but that's green."

"What? Are you taking the piss?"

"Son, I know your dad was a drinker but was he never sober enough to maybe comment on your drawings when you were a wee laddie? Maybe tell you that your colours weren't quite right?"

"Mac, what are you on about?"

"You're colourblind. Colourblind as shite, actually. I'm surprised you actually managed to join the army."

"..."

"I won't tell because if I do, you're fucked and other than this you're a mighty good fuckin' soldier but from now on if anyone asks, your favourite colour is blue because you can identify it easily and no discussing other colours. I'll label the red and green pens I keep in the drawer for you, alright?"

"Alright."

[revenge-of-the-shit]

No hi I'm back again because after sitting on it for a while it was like Arcane suddenly saw all those issues it presented and abruptly decided that it was time to turn a blind eye to it instead in favour of a greek-tragedy-cosmic-horror-doomed-soulmates storyline. Whether this is due to studio interference or due to the actual politics of the writers, I don't know, but at the end of the day Arcane disappointingly fails to break free of the neoliberal messaging that deeply pervades any media that even tries to be progressive. It presents all these very real systemic issues, then either forgets about it or slaps on a last-minute band-aid solution that only serves to brush it under the rug.

I will grant that a part of it is just the fact that they simply didn't have enough time. A lot of this could've been expanded on had we just had one more arc, or even just three four-episode acts instead. The quick pacing honestly did Arcane a disservice this time. They had huge ideas, many of which were great, but they simply did not have enough time.

Some things that I wish we saw more of:

Ekko's community building and the fruits of his effort (and to add on to this: let him see his tree again!!! wtf!!)

Jinx and Sevika (and Ekko!!!) really, truly leading a united Zaunite revolution for longer than like half an episode that forces literally anyone in Piltover to consider the consequences of their actions

On that same point: meaningful change that takes down systemic barriers - better public infrastructure for Zaun, better funding for health issues, examining injustices committed by enforcers - this was only barely addressed by Ekko ("you're destroying our vents and polluting our waters") and then like never talked about again

Putting Sevika on the council as the singular token Zaunite is so painful like I can tell you as someone who's been the only queer non-white voice in the room that it's not as progressive and cool as it might seem to be. It's painful and torturous and just reeks of tokenism. A good first step would be to have a council with an equal amount of members between Piltover and Zaun but that's not enough to just have that!!

Jayce and Caitlyn actually having like, even a moment, just to think about what they've done to hurt, to oppress others, in their pursuit of "justice". Making weapons you never said you would and gassing a city of civilians should be thought about more, actually

Like there could've been so much more to Jayce and Caitlyn to make their characters even more well written. At their core they truly want to do good, they care, they earnestly want to help, but they are also raised in privilege and I want to see them wrestle with the biases they've been soaked in more.

I already talked about Maddie and the enforcers in a different post but just... more nuance about enforcers and how even the nicest enforcer you know will happily gas civilians and stand by and watch unnecessary violence. Like. Loris was one of the "good enforcers" but he helped to gas civilians too. Did we forget that

Vi!!! Just. More of Vi. She got the short end of the stick this season. The writer's punching bag. I wish we got more time to actually explore her trauma and to just... give her a break. But also more time on her thinking on her own decision to go bluebelly.

[blondiedae]

dry house, wet clothes (six)

𓍯𓂃𓂃𓂃 dry house, wet clothes, six

pairing. johnny suh x afab!reader x jeong jaehyun

genre. angst, fluff, eventual smut, slow burn (for jaehyun), friends to lovers (for johnny)

warnings. swearing, mentions of drinking, kissing, explicit smut (oral (receiving/giving), fingering, not so dry humping (frottage). big miscommunication trope, it is what it is. it’s so much angst i’m so sorry

word count. 8,437

plot. the four of you have spent years building the world around you, your friendship, your weekends together hidden in jaehyun's loft. you, mark, johnny and jaehyun. shaking the foundation of that by being in love with your best friend, jaehyun, is a risk you've never been confident enough to take. but, johnny suh is confident and johnny suh has been known to shake the world around you.

other's mentioned. lee jeno, huang renjun, na jaemin, lee haechan (donghyuck), lee taeyong, nakamoto yuta, qian kun, ten lee, jung sungchan, kim jungwoo, kim doyoung

author's note. chapter six is here! it’s shorter because chapter seven is twice as long, but this felt like a good place to cut it! so, enjoy enjoy! (crying editing this chapter because Sungchang mentioned). also, i don’t know what happened? i had this scheduled to post at 10:30 last night and then it didn’t post it?? i woke up thinking i flopped because i didn’t have any notifs 😭 i’m so sorry

taglist (open). @xiaojunsdino @yoursyuno @girlisaloser

playlist. here!

“You’re so beautiful.”

Johnny’s voice was soft, his fingertips running along the skin of your stomach. You watched him, every move he made, every breath, every blink, and wondered if you’d ever get used to those words from his lips. The way his lips curved around each syllable with an easy, definitive smile. How his eyes didn’t waver, held a sincerity Johnny was never short on. Humming, a pleasant pause to thank him, you looked down at his fingers and said, “I remember when we met.”

“Yeah?” His grin grew, “What do you remember?”

Johnny when he’d yet to grow into his limbs, when his arms were a bit too long for the sleeves of his uniform and his legs carried him in acre-long strides. Johnny when his charm was settling, solidifying into sincerity; Johnny’s sparkling eyes when they were filled with unpredictable fireworks, instead of ever-shining sun. There were few discernable differences between that Johnny and the man in your bed, waiting for you to breathe.

You looked back to him, “I told you that your tie was crooked and you ignored me.”

Johnny laughed, chest pressed against you and rumbling with the sound. His hand extended to settle on your waist, pulling you closer to him, still, “I don’t remember that.”

“Of course you don’t.” Curling into him, you added, “You got in trouble for it thirty minutes after, though. I think it was your third or fourth day.”

“Hm. I didn’t know how to tie a tie.”

You nodded, head on his chest, and confirmed with, “Your mom only bought you clip-on ties. You told me.”

“What else?”

“You seemed so much older than me.” It was a strange thought, the memory of Johnny so young but feeling larger than life, larger than this world. For as long as you’d known him, in all the ways he’d changed, that much was still true, “Everything about you, just…the way you existed. That doesn’t even make sense.”

“Sure it does.” He’d come in the middle of the school year, just before his birthday. He did everything he could to blend, everything he could to integrate. He found you and he found Jaehyun and Johnny found a place to fit, “You had that bright yellow backpack.”

“I still have it.”

“And your astrology book.”

You traced the tattoo on his arm, “And you asked me what the stars had to say about when you’d be losing your virginity.”

He kissed the top of your head, muffling another laugh in your hair. Johnny closed his eyes, “Do you still have your book?”

“Mm. Probably. I think it’s downstairs.”

Johnny pulled back, kissing your forehead, the tip of your nose, your cheek. Then, fingers on your chin, he tilted your head up and kissed your lips. Johnny who had grown into his arms and his acre-long legs. Johnny who grew his hair longer, who knew how to tie a tie. Johnny who had sunlight in his eyes, who kissed you like it killed him not to. You let your heart swell, holding onto the memory of him with one hand and holding this moment in the other. His lips that curved around sweet words moved slowly with yours; Johnny would always move slowly with you.

“Do me a favor.” He kissed you again, only briefly, “Go find your book?”

“What?”

“Go see if you can find it.”

Sunbeams flickered in his eyes so brightly you could confuse them for fireworks, traces of your memories still lingering in him. Johnny smiled at you, nudged you, pulled himself from the bed and you after, “Why are we doing this?”

The warmth of your blankets faded too quickly, Johnny’s warmth following just as fast. He urged you towards the door, hands on your waist and pushing you backwards, “Go on. I’ll meet you down there.”

You grumbled, “It’s cold.”

But you went. Johnny asked and Johnny smiled, so you went. Your house was dark, two o’clock casting shadows and a particular sense of calm. Your living room was only lit by a sliver of moonlight, just in the center. Your bookshelves lined the furthest wall, behind your television and on either side; a collection that never stopped growing, a collection that needed to be shifted and straightened regularly. Books you’d read and cherished, annotated and scribbled love notes to the authors, the characters and their enemies in. They were stacked in wobbling towers on the floor, leaning against each other for support when they started to fall.

You knew where the astrology book should be; torn to pieces, pulling apart along the spine and frayed at the edges. It hadn’t moved in years, tucked away on the second shelf from the top. Your bare feet padded across the living room, stepping carefully around precarious stacks until you found it. It felt lighter in your hands, smaller.

You cracked it open, let the dust on the cover rub off on your fingers while you skimmed over your notes, “Huh.”

You’d dog-eared five dates; two in February, one in August, one in September and one in late October. It was a relic of its time, frozen and preserved. February 9th had his name scribbled at the top, Aquarius highlighted in neon green, unpredictable underlined in black. Your memory of Johnny came back to life in front of you; crooked tie, shorter hair, fireworks bursting in his eyes.

“You found it.” His voice was close behind you, “Can I ask you an astrology question?”

You turned and looked at him, Johnny still so much bigger than this world, larger than life, “Sure.”

Johnny came closer, “What do the stars have to say about you being my girlfriend?”

Your heart jumped, flipped, exploded in your chest. Any oxygen you had in your lungs fled, leaving you to gasp for air, for an answer. Johnny watched you, the easiest smile he could manage on his face. He was stepping closer still, hands wrapped around his sweater until he was toe-to-toe with you, lifting it over your head and pulling it down.

He took a moment to look at you. His sweater fell against your thighs and he worked at the sleeves until they were rolled up to your wrists. Johnny didn’t hide that he was shaking, didn’t hide that he was nervous and excited and bursting with adrenaline. You’d told him that you wanted to be his. Make me yours, you’d said. But, he had yet to ask and Johnny didn’t ever want to assume - not when it came to this, not when it came to you.

So, he explained, “I didn’t ask yet, officially. I wanted to ask.”

The spine protested the way your hands gripped the book, “Me or the stars?”

Johnny looked at the open pages, the word unpredictable underlined, then smiled at you. It was all he could do, he was riddled with hope, “Both. You, mostly. But, both if it helps.”

You caught your breath then - he was looking at you like that. For months, unnoticed. For months, undetected. For six months, Johnny waited and settled on certainty, on sincerity. If you asked for it, he’d give you that time. He’d tease you, he’d kiss you and Johnny would make a game of it; one you could both win, one you’d love to play. But, Johnny would give you that time, if it’s what you needed, if it meant you’d be his.

If the stars said to, he’d double it.

Make me yours, Johnny. You’d made your decision over dinner, over stolen kisses at a Halloween party, over a dance at a festival and that look. So, you swallowed and said, “I say yes.”

Johnny’s breath caught in his throat when he asked, “And the stars?”

“They say yes, too.”

Johnny swept you up in his arms, lips on yours in an instant. He was still shaking, adrenaline leaving his body in short breaths between kisses. He could feel the world rotating, felt it move underneath him and knew it was a miracle he was steady on his own two feet. He whispered your name, followed it with, “My Juliet.”

Then, Johnny thanked the stars. He sang their praises into your lips and begged them not to go cross at the sound of your nickname. To have a sense of humor, to give his Juliet and your Romeo a better ending. Johnny held you in a sliver of moonlight and asked the stars for no ending, at all. Just you.

Only you.

📻

11:37am Hey man

11:37am I think it’s just gonna be you and Jaehyun tonight

11:38am I’m gonna spend the day with my girlfriend

“Yo.” Mark’s phone buzzed once on the table, twice in the palm of his hand. He blinked just as many times, watching as the messages from Johnny came in, processing them, letting his jaw drop as a reaction, “Yo!”

His fist balled, slamming against Jeno’s arm to his left, “What happened?”

“They’re together.” Mark was hushed, his answer almost lost in the bustle of the cafeteria. His eyes felt like they’d fall out of his head, bugged as they were, “They’re fucking together.”

Renjun leaned over Mark’s other shoulder, “Johnny?”

Jeno shook his head, “Holy shit. He did it?”

Renjun settled back into his seat, “See Jaemin, it’s possible.”

“Oh, fuck off.”

“This is incredible.” If he could bottle this feeling he would. His expression shifted to reflect every emotion he cycled through until it settled into an ecstatic grin. He pushed himself away from the table, “I’ll be right back.”

Then, Mark crossed the cafeteria phone pressed to his ear. Johnny answered, “Why would you call?”

“Because I’m excited, dude.” He was weaving through people, no clear destination, “You asked her?”

“I said I wanted to spend time with my girlfriend and you called?” He could hear you laughing, Mark’s cheeks ached. Johnny told him, “I asked.”

“Dude, when?”

“Dude, last night.”

He leaned himself against a wall, “I can’t believe this.”

“Sure you can, Mark.” He listened to the background noise, unidentifiable sounds, the two of you moving together. Together. Together. You and Johnny were together. Mark’s laugh came out like a hoot, rushed out and echoed in the hallway. Johnny joined him, briefly, “Look, we’re just waking up. So, I’ll call you later, okay?”

“No, don’t worry about it. I’m so happy for you, Johnny.” He was. More than what felt reasonable, but it was out of Mark’s control. He was ecstatic, “Both of you. Seriously.”

Then, Johnny told him, “Thanks man. Me too.”

The line went silent after that, leaving Mark to buzz on his own. He paces three laps the width of the hallway, smiling to himself, celebrating by himself. Mark basked in his uncontainable feelings for as long as he could, before he raised his phone again and made one more call.

“Hey, Mark.”

“He did it.” He was bursting at the seams, “Jaehyun, Johnny fucking did it.”

📻

Johnny’s head was in your lap. Your fingers played with the strands of his hair, twirled them around and let them fall. His fingers traced up and down your calves, occasionally chased by his lips. The movie you’d turned on was nearly forgotten, falling into the background every time he kissed your skin. Johnny hummed against your leg, “You okay?”

“I’m fine.” When he looked up at you, you did your best to smile back, lips pulled tight. Your hands fell to your sides, palms flat on the couch while Johnny rotated, turning to face you, “What are you doing?”

“You’d tell me if I was pushing too far, right?” You nodded, Johnny’s hands caught yours and pulled them back to his hair, “Good. Keep going.”

His lips kissed your thigh, soft and brief, but enough to make your heart pound. One kiss by your knee, another higher, another higher still until he’d pushed the fabric of your shorts to the side to kiss along the line of your panties. Johnny breathed you in, eyes closed, “Too much?”

You sighed, “No.”

“Keep going?”

“Please.”

His fingers tugged at the fabric again, nose nuzzled against your clothed pussy for a moment before he placed a kiss at your core. Higher and higher until another one circled around your clit. You tasted like heaven, still, like perfection falling apart at the simplest touch underneath him.

“Babe?” He didn’t lift his head, voice muffled against you, “Can I taste you, again?”

You nodded your head.

Johnny chided, “Words, baby.”

“Yes, please Johnny.”

He sat up in a second, hands wrapped around your ankles and pulling at your legs. He moved himself to the opposite end of the couch, letting you lay back and find comfort before he lifted your leg again. His kisses were sloppier, rushing back up your leg, and his fingers dug into the flesh of your thighs. Johnny felt starved and it hadn’t even been twelve hours. Pulling at the waistband, he slid your shorts and panties down your legs, dizzy at the sight of you, again; overwhelmed by your glistening pussy in the daylight.

“I’m so fucking lucky.”

You hid from him, face behind your hands, “Johnny, be quiet.”

“Not a chance.” He hovered over you, hardening cock brushing against your clit when he whispered against your lips, “You’re perfect, baby. All mine.”

“All yours.”

Then, Johnny was back between your thighs, lapping at your pussy; drinking you in. His tongue pushed inside, circling to taste every drop before he steadily thrust in and out. He held your thighs down, fingers bruising your skin as you writhed and wriggled, arched against him, “Feel good?”

“Feels so good. Feels so fucking good.” Your voice was broken, barely above a whisper, “‘More.”

“Anything for you, baby.” Johnny focused his attention on your clit, sucking it between his lips and moaning against you, “You want me to fuck you with my fingers?”

“Mhm.”

He slipped two in, lifting his head only to watch how your jaw hung open. Johnny smothered himself with your pussy, barely coming up for air, sucking and moaning against you. He added a third finger, “So wet for me. Dripping.”

“Johnny.”

“Tell me.”

Your mind was lost, fogged over completely at his touch, the way he sounded, the way he made you feel. Your hips bucked every time he hooked his fingers inside you, with every kiss or kitten lick on your clit. You were gone, mindless, “More.”

“My Juliet is greedy.” He hooked his hands under your knees, tossing one over his shoulder and then the other, “Good to know.”

He dove back in, messy and wet. Johnny’s drool mixed in with your juices, dripping down onto the couch. He pulled back, leaving you breathless, a rush of cool air on your cunt. His fingers were in his mouth, sucking the taste of you from the tips before he put them back in, using his other hand to lift your ass up off the couch. The angle had you seeing stars, head thrown back.

“Johnny. Johnny. Johnny.” Your legs were shaking, stars blurring into pure white as you came on his tongue, on his fingers, down Johnny’s chin. You were everywhere on him, “Fuck. Oh my God.”

He pulled his fingers out slowly, sucking your wetness off of them again before he settled back on his heels. His cock was pushing against his pants, only for a second, before Johnny pulled it out and spit on his hand. He kept his eyes on you, wrecked in front of him and bucked into his hand, “You’re fucking incredible, baby.”

Your eyes opened slowly, the sight of him jerking himself off sent a shiver to your core, “No. No wait.”

“Wait for what?” His hand never stopped. You pulled yourself up as well as you could until you were in front of him kneeling. Johnny couldn’t breathe, “Open.”

Your jaw fell, waiting for his cock. Johnny slapped the tip against your tongue once, twice, three times before he eased it in, rocking just slightly. You wanted him to use you, wanted him to feel just as good as he’d made you feel. Wanted Johnny to look at you like this, always; those sunbeams shining in his heavy-lidded eyes.

“Use me.”

His hips stuttered, “Huh?”

“However you want, Johnny.” You sucked at his tip, tongue tasting the precum leaking from his slit, “Just use me.”

“Come here, beautiful.” He pulled you up. Johnny settled into the couch, sitting upright and guiding you onto his lap. You waited for him to lower your hips down, sink you onto his length, but he didn’t. Instead, Johnny held your hips, sliding his cock through your wetness before letting it slap against his abdomen. He sat you down, positioning his cock between the two of you, then breathed out, “Move.”

His fingers pushed into your hips, your waist, your ass. Anything he could hold onto to get your hips grinding on him. Your pussy slid against his cock, wrapped around him and wet. The tip pushed against your clit with every thrust, both of your moans echoing in the room.

Johnny licked his lips, one hand reaching up to grab the back of your neck and guide you to him. You kissed him, uncoordinated and sloppy, lost in the rhythm of your hips and his. He was breathing heavily, chest rising rapidly as he chased your lips, chased his high.

“It feels so good.”

He nodded his head, resting it against yours, holding you there. Johnny begged you, again, like he needed to know he had you here, “Look at me.”

You did, eyes locked on him. Your hips couldn't follow the rhythm you’d set, both of you humping and grinding against each other, erratically before Johnny moaned, “Cumming.”

It was drawn out, the way he said it. Johnny was shaking underneath you and never letting go, the intensity of his own orgasm pushed you over the edge, again. Head tossed back, calling out his name like it was the only thing you could remember.

He pulled you against his chest, let you collapse there and catch your breath. He felt like he’d pushed too far, clarity coming back to him like a wave. So, Johnny held you until you came back down and hoped he hadn’t crossed a line.

He asked, “How do you feel?”

“So good.”

“Not too far?”

You leaned back, holding eye contact with him again and promised, quietly enough for only Johnny to hear, “Not too far. I promise, I’ll tell you.”

He nodded, “Okay.”

“Come take a shower with me.”

Again, he nodded, “Okay.”

📻

Saturday came quickly, after a whole day hidden away with Johnny. Your boyfriend Johnny. Johnny who knew exactly how to touch you, how to kiss you, how to keep your world spinning and Johnny who promised he’d figure out the rest. He held your hand as you walked down the street to Jaehyun’s, keeping you wrapped in his sweater for one more day.

He stopped you in the middle of the road, centered in front of Jaehyun’s house and staring up at the loft, “You ready?”

“It’s just Mark and Jaehyun.” You hoped his sweater would summon a pinch of Johnny’s certainty, trying to convince yourself that a night in the loft would be normal. Knowing that it wouldn’t be, feeling Jaehyun on your lips, Johnny everywhere else. You looked at him, “It’ll be okay.”

Johnny knew you were worried, if it wasn’t written clearly on your face, you’d told him as much. In the steam of your shower, with Johnny’s hands on your skin, you told him. You’d whispered it like a secret against his bicep, “Tonight will be different.”

He lathered you in milk and honey soap, massaged it into your skin, “Why do you think that?”

“Because we’re different.”

He was kneeling at your feet, one leg propped up so he could rest yours on top. Johnny switched your legs, letting you use him for balance, before he looked up at you - beautiful you, vulnerable with him, willingly vulnerable. He’d spent six months wondering how he could get here and now, all he wanted to do was stay, “Different how?”

You snorted, “You know how.”

The cheeky grin on his face made you laugh more, “Yeah, but I want to hear you say it.”

You played the game, “Because you have a girlfriend.”

Johnny stood up, imitation shock perfectly on his face, “I do? Who? Should I be here with you?”

“Of course you should be.”

“And why is that?”

Giving in, caving for Johnny’s charm, you switched spots and pushed him under the water. You brought your lips to his chest, kissing where the last leaf of his tattoo ended and telling him, “Because I’m your girlfriend.”

You could feel him shiver when Johnny pulled you flush against him, “You’re my girlfriend.” Then he whispered, “How insane is that?”

Jaehyun’s house was daunting, now, a new reality. You’d never hesitated on his sidewalk like this, never thought twice about climbing the iron steps. Johnny pulled at your hand and repeated your words back to you, “It’ll be okay. It’s just Mark and Jaehyun.”

Mark had gotten there first, taking the steps two at a time when he arrived. Jaehyun could hear him before he could see him, the clunk of his feet, then the door hitting the wall, then his backpack hitting the floor. The youngest asked, “Are they here yet?”

Jaehyun was at his piano, tapping keys one by one in a scale, “Not yet.”

“Can you believe it, man?” Mark was at the window, pulling off his coat, his hat, watching the empty street like it would pull you from your house, “Johnny thought he’d change his mind.”

“Did he?” Jaehyun met Mark where he was, hands tucked in his pockets. He saw you, then, hand-in-hand with Johnny. Jaehyun let the words rush out in a sigh, “Looks like he didn’t.”

“I knew he wouldn’t. I think he just wanted to be sure, you know? He’s so careful about this kind of stuff.”

Jaehyun noted, “Yeah. He is.”

At that, Mark looked at him, pulling his attention away from you and Johnny - boyfriend and girlfriend, together, you and Johnny - to ask, “You okay, man?”

Jaehyun took only a second to react, adjusting himself to stand upright, fixing his expression so it was believable. He was falling apart, but he told Mark, simply, “Yeah. Weird work week.”

And they left it at that.

When you’d climbed the stairs, when you pushed the door to the loft open, Mark rushed the two of you. Shouting out his excitement, arms secured around the two of you, “Oh my God!”

Johnny laughed, hand still holding yours, squeezing a reassurance before he patted Mark on the back, “I’m starting to think you thought she’d reject me.”

“I’m just excited, man. This is so exciting.” He was so eloquent when he could nit pick his words, but in moments like this Mark was repetitive, vibrating with too much energy and excitement to articulate, “Congrats you guys.”

You heard bottles clink across the room, followed the sound to where Jaehyun stood. He looked at you for a second, felt his lips tingle - the last place you touched - and then agreed, “Congratulations you guys.”

His hand extended to Johnny first, then Mark, then you. The way Jaehyun’s fingertips lingered on the neck of the bottle, at the tips of yours, was something kept between the two of you. Johnny told him, told the both of them, “Thanks.”

And you echoed it, eyes on Jaehyun.

Your astrology book was open on your coffee table, turned to the page with February 14th at the top. Jaehyun’s name was scribbled, just like Johnny’s. Two pages filled with notes, with highlighted marks and underlined words. You’d studied it, when you were younger, grew frustrated at the surface level explanation of someone you knew had so much more depth. Looking at Jaehyun now, trying to read him like your book, it was impossible.

Jaehyun felt lost to you.

You had felt it coming, but the reality of it made the beer you swallowed down even more bitter.

Johnny pulled at your hand, “Alright what’s the plan for the night.”

There wasn’t one - there never was. Hours went by in a blink. You’d let Johnny mix you nonsensical cocktails, sipped them down in the middle of the mattress and eased yourself into the night. Johnny carried the conversation, kept your attention with every word. Mark’s laughter echoed off the walls, mixed with yours and Jaehyun’s, sometimes overpowered them. Jaehyun sat at the piano, watching and listening, looking away whenever you peeked at him.

It was tearing you apart.

Mark was too far gone, six celebratory drinks in and wobbling on his feet when he asked, “You guys kiss and stuff, right?”

You choked on your own drink, eyes wide, while Johnny laughed and rolled backwards. He’d sat himself by the windows a while ago, finishing a story and crossing his legs. Mark was near Jaehyun, eyes slow blinking and a lazy smile on his face.

He laughed out a drawn out, drunken, “What? It’s a fair question.”

Jaehyun shifted in his seat, “You’re drunk, Mark.”

“Yeah, obviously.” The youngest was still smiling, shining brightly with mischief while he looked between you and Johnny, “I think you should kiss now.”

“Mark, what the hell?” Your own laughed must’ve sounded forced, or maybe just as drunk as his. Still, you slowly shook your head, “We’re not kissing in front of you.”

“Come on. Why not? When was the last time you kissed?”

Johnny answered for you, glancing at the time, “Six hours ago.”

“See!” Mark gestured vaguely, excited, using his last wind to make his point, “That’s way too long. Don’t you guys want to?”

Again, Johnny answered, truthfully and certain and with a quick wink, “Always.”

“Then do it.”

You looked at Jaehyun. He tapped at the piano, eyes down. You were happy - Johnny made you happy and that’s what Jaehyun wanted. But, you couldn’t look away from him, couldn’t stand the way he avoided you. Your heart was a lump in your throat, impossible to swallow down. Then, Johnny was in front of your standing at the end of the mattress and reaching out his hand. He smiled, you melted at the sight, the beams of light in his eyes turning you into a puddle, “Come on, baby.”

You thought you might have been the only one to hear it, until Mark squealed. You let the world outside of you and Johnny fade, knowing Jaehyun was in the corner doing the same - fading you out, turning away, closing himself off. You needed Johnny, needed him to hold onto you. So, you took Johnny’s hand. You let Johnny pull you to him and fall into orbit.

“Hi.” You whispered.

He said it back, “Hi. Too much?”

“Maybe a little.”

“We don’t have to.”

But you shook your head. Mark was right, six hours felt like too long, after a little more than twenty-four and, “I miss you.”

Johnny laced his fingers in yours, “I’m right here.”

He leaned in, Mark said something like, “They’re doing it” an octave higher than usual, clapping his hands like a seal. Johnny leaned in and you titled your head up to meet him in the middle, letting his lips mold to yours, move with them, just like you had all last night, all day.

Then it was over. Johnny turned to Mark and asked, “Happy?”

And from the way Mark kicked his feet, from the way he jumped up and onto Johnny, you knew he was. You couldn’t help but smile, couldn’t stop the laugh. Jaehyun was on his feet, stepping around the two of them with a pat on Johnny’s back, “I’ll be back.”

Then he was gone.

Johnny and Mark found a new topic to pick at, collapsing into each other in laughter, in drunken camaraderie. You watched for a moment before finding an excuse with reason, “I’m gonna get some water.”

Then you followed after Jaehyun.

He could hear your footsteps behind him, soft and careful, lingering just over his shoulder. Jaehyun held his breath, fingers fumbling with twisting the lid off the bottle. He couldn’t focus on it, his chest tight again, alone in his kitchen with you. Eventually, the metal scraped enough on the glass so the cap fell, clinking against the countertop. Jaehyun ignored it, his breath easing its way out of captivity in his lungs, and poured.

“I submitted my edits.” He didn’t turn, the silence between you filled with the sound of whiskey in a tumbler, “Lee Haechan has notes.”

His shoulders were stiff, “Oh?”

You nodded, silent and knowing he wasn’t looking. Your heart was pounding in your chest, your throat, your ears, “He wants to meet with me.”

Jaehyun only hummed.

“Please.” You didn’t mean to say it. You didn’t mean to plead, for Jaehyun to hear it. It seemed fruitless to beg him, to let this silence swallow you up and put more space between the two of you, “I’m sorry.”

“For what?” He took a sip of his drink, licking his lips, “We just keep apologizing to each other. For what?”

“I don’t know what’s happening.”

“You’ve said that. Nothing is happening.” His world is crumbling, Jaehyun was lying to you while he was lying in ruins. The haze of alcohol made everything seem slow, heavy, impossible. He turned, leaning against the counter but still looking away, “We’re all just adjusting.”

“You said you wanted me to be happy.”

“I do.”

“Then please. Please just be honest with me.”

Jaehyun’s jaw clenched, “I am.”

The circles you’d spun in were wearing you down. Every conversation you’d had with Jaehyun for the last month spiraled the same way, until the ground caved in underneath you - another layer added each time, worse and worse the further down you went. Your heart was aching; if the daylight found you euphoric, the night and the drinks and the way Jaehyun avoided you found you in a state of misery.

The same conversation, the same circles, the same sickening feeling in your gut watching your best friend close himself off. February 14th in your book; distant underlined in black, detached highlighted in neon green. Jaehyun was two feet away and had never been further from you.

Anger replaced hurt long enough for you to say, “You’re so full of shit, Jae.”

“I’m full of shit?” That was the tipping point. His eyes were on you, zeroed in and pinched in a glare. Jaehyun tilted his head back and let the whiskey slide down his throat, the glass hitting the counter harder than he’d anticipated when he was done, “Has it always been him?”

“What are you talking about?”

“Johnny. Has it always been Johnny?”

“No.”

“It’s just him now, then?” Jaehyun stepped closer, “You just woke up and decided that?”

You froze, hand at your sides and head tilted, “How do you think this works?”

“I don’t know and you won’t fucking talk to me about it.”

“I can’t talk to you about it!” You could hear the music from upstairs and hoped that it was loud enough to drown you out, to mask your explosion, “This is what happens. I don’t know what it is, I don’t know what it’s going to be. That’s the whole point, Jaehyun. Do you know where all your relationships will go from the start?”

He shook his head, not as an answer. Jaehyun shook his head and rolled it back, letting the debris settle around him, “Obviously not.”

“Why do I need to have so many answers for you?”

“It’s the same fucking thing you did with Sicheng.” It wasn’t. He didn’t mean it. Jaehyun sought out an escape and latched onto a lie, again. He watched the way your face twisted and immediately wanted to take it back. But, he doubled down, “Look how that ended.”

“What the fuck does that have to do with anything?” You didn’t wait for him to tell you, stepping back, “You’re out of your fucking mind. We were kids, Jaehyun.”

He called your name, stepping after you, taking up the space you’d been in before. Jaehyun was overwhelmed by cinnamon, pink pepper, mandarin, “We’re not kids anymore.”

“Exactly.”

Jaehyun’s voice was quiet, “Did you fuck him?”

You stopped, “What did you just say?”

“Did you fuck him?” You didn’t budge, you didn’t answer, you didn’t blink. Jaehyun ran his hands through his hair, “This whole thing is a game.”

Clarity came and went, weaving through your words, the music, the things Jaehyun said. Another layer of the Earth crumbled from another loop, “It’s not and for some reason that bothers you. You just won’t fucking admit it.”

“It doesn’t.”

“We’re having the same conversation, again, because it does.”

He was in front of you again, wavering again, “I don’t want to lose another friend because you want to fuck around.”

Johnny and Mark moved two floors above you, footsteps and laughter loud enough for you to hear in the silence that fell between you and Jaehyun. Fury and confusion mixed like another cocktail for you to swallow, another drink you’d choke down tonight. It was too much, every second, every word, every thought. It was all too much.

You blinked.

Jaehyun watched the tear roll down your cheek, watched it curve at your jaw and felt like he was going to be sick at the sight. He could see his bedroom door, considered how the night would’ve gone if he’d just gone to bed, cut himself off. Instead, he’d gone too far. Jaehyun reached for you, the most natural thing for him to do, his hand out in front of him. You pulled back. You kept pulling back.

“I didn’t mean it.”

“You said it.”

He said your name again, a broken whisper in the back of his throat, “I didn’t mean it. I don’t know why I - fuck, that’s not…”

“You didn’t lose Sicheng. You won’t lose Johnny.” Jaehyun wanted to correct you - that’s not at all what he was worried about. You kept pulling back and he kept pushing, doing everything he could to ensure he’d lose you. Every step was a misstep. Jaehyun was terrified, stuck in this moment, this loop. Your hand wiped the tear from your face, the ones that followed its path, “But, until you figure out what you do mean, I…I can’t keep doing this.”

“Doing what?”

Your arms wrapped around yourself, comforted by Johnny wrapped around you, soothing you in the way Jaehyun would if he could reach. The ground held your attention, eyes cautious in case it gave way, again. You weren’t sure how much Earth there was to spare, how much of your foundation you and Jaehyun had left. He watched you shake your head, erase all the thoughts that had you so far away. Then, you told him, “Whatever this is. I don't know who we are anymore.”

Jaehyun couldn’t tell you. A little more than twenty-four hours ago, he thought he knew. In a world before he watched you kiss Johnny and feel something, before he saw your face when you really liked it, Jaehyun thought he could figure it out even though, “You said you felt nothing.”

He didn’t know you had heard him, he didn’t know he’d said it out loud, until you asked, “What?”

So, for the last time, he lied, “I said we’re nothing. We’re the same as we were.”

“Don’t. We keep saying that and then this keeps happening.” You looked at him, for the last time, “Figure it out.”

Then you left. Jaehyun waited until he heard your footsteps join Mark and Johnny. He stood perfectly still in his kitchen, breathing faster and faster with every second until he felt like he couldn’t stand anymore. Then, Jaehyun went to bed, freezing.

📻

A week had gone by quickly and the world adjusted around you, around Johnny, around an ache that still lingered and you tried to push down. A week had passed and you worked hard to find your footing on frosted over pavement, sidewalks that shone under a layer of ice - water from a late night storm. A week had passed and you were suddenly halfway through November, choking down the silence between you and your best friend.

The café helped in filling the quiet, bustling midday while you waited for your faceless author. Your latte cooled in front of you, the steam from it evaporating as the minutes passed by.

Then, he was there - Lee Haechan was exactly how you pictured him and somehow shockingly different. His oversized blazer hung open around him, tan against a plain white shirt and jeans. The black beanie on his head left a dent in his hair when he pulled it off and introduced himself, confirming your name and saying, “Nice to meet you.”

“Yeah, same.”

His head tilted to the side, eyebrow lifted, “Really?”

“Of course. I really enjoyed your book.”

Haechan laughed, straightening upright, “You did? You sure had a lot to say about it.”

You balked, “I mean…that’s my job.”

“Right.” He tapped at the table, “I didn’t disagree with most of it. Honestly, you’re the first editor that gave me honest feedback. So, I guess I should thank you.”

“I thought this was your first book.”

Haechan nodded, “It is. You’re the sixth editor that’s gone through it, though. Seventh if you count my friend, Sungchan.”

You leaned forward, wrapping your hands around your mug before bringing it to your lips, “Why so many?”

Haechan easily matched your position, leaning closer and smirking, “Everyone was full of shit.”

“And I’m not.”

He shrugged, “You might be. But, I liked it.”

He was something else - charming in a way that was almost off putting, confident and calm, “Okay. So, why did you want to meet?”

“Tell me about your first love.”

“Excuse me?”

Haechan leaned back again, watching as the waitress set his drink in front of him and crossing his arms, “I write about love. You’ve been in love right?” You nodded, slowly, one eyebrow arched in curiosity. You had no way of knowing where this was going, Lee Haechan was unpredictable, resolute when he asked again, “Tell me about it. The first time.”

“Okay, sure.” You’d spent years avoiding the topic and the last month circling back to it. Your head throbbed at the thought, but you told him, “He was an exchange student. He…I don’t know, the moment I saw him I felt like I just needed to be near him. He was so quiet and reserved, at the time, and it felt like he was a mystery. Does that make sense? I’d spent my whole life until that point surrounded by the same people and he was so new.”

“A shiny new toy to play with.”

Words that were unintentional knives, poking and prodding at the memory of Jaehyun in his kitchen. The implication that Sicheng was a game, that Johnny was too - Jaehyun had thrown the same knives. And, when they tore at your skin, when his words drew blood, Jaehyun was shocked. Haechan had no way of knowing how his words pierced fresh wounds, how you’d felt them reopen and used your latte to choke down what pain followed. He just watched you, curious as he’d been when he came through the door, and waited for you to speak.

“No. No, he was more than that. He was, I don’t know, bubbly? Vibrant and when he smiled it was like magic.”

“Wow.” Haechan sat with that, mulled it over while he sipped on his own drink. He looked at you, after a hard swallow and asked, “Is that Jaehyun?”

Your pulse stopped, veins cold and lifeless, hands squeezing tightly around your mug. Blinking, you begged Haechan for clarification, “What?”

“Jaehyun.” He took another sip, watching silently as you spiraled, “Is that your first love?”

“No. Jaehyun is…” The word was lost on you; Jaehyun was ice, he was cold and he was something he’d never been. Jaehyun was supposed to be your best friend, but he was shifting into something else, into a ghost and the thought made you nauseous, “He’s my friend.”

He hummed, “You mentioned his name in your notes a few times. I figured it was a reference.”

“He helped me. He…he let me read your book to him so I could work out my thoughts. I didn’t realize I’d left his thoughts in, as well.” You looked down into your mug, followed the swirl of the foam, “I’m sorry. That was really unprofessional.”

“I don’t mind.” Then, Haechan pushed, asked more from you than you were prepared for, “Are you sure he’s just a friend?”

There was nothing you were less sure of, not in that moment. But you knew what he was implying, you know how his words grabbed at your heart and tried to jumpstart the feeling you’d been chasing for years. That familiar ache you tried to push down. You shook your head, “I have a boyfriend.”

Haechan nodded, “Ah.”

Your phone buzzed, nudging a spoon closer to the edge. 12:49pm Come over tonight?

“Boyfriend?” You nodded, “Do you love him?”

“We’ve only been together for a week.”

“Oh, I wasn’t talking about him.” Haechan pointed to your phone, Johnny’s message still visible, “Love is strange. Every time I think I understand it, I find a new version somewhere else, in something else or someone else.”

“Maybe it’s not love, then. Maybe it’s infatuation.”

“Infatuation is messy.” Haechan shook his head, “There’s a purity in love, something untainted and clean about it. Love is a white light, infatuation is something else.”

“What do you mean?”

Haechan pulled a piece of paper from his pocket, unfolding it and placing it on the table between you. It was a page from his book, torn from the manuscript and scribbled on. He watched as you read over it; a passage about the love interest, a comment about the main character credited to Jaehyun. Haechan cleared his throat, “Jaehyun said the way Sanghoon felt was fleeting. The way it’s described was fleeting, ungrounded.”

“Right.”

“And you said…” Haechan leaned over the paper, himself, fingers tracing along your written notes, “What is more akin to love than desire to float away.”

“Yeah.”

“What’s more pure than a desire to fly? Love should feel like that.” Then he smiled, teasing and wide, “Light in color, light in weight.”

You looked at him, “You seem like the type to have an opinion on everything.”

Haechan barked out a laugh, “You’re right. I like talking to you.”

“I’m undecided.”

“Fair enough.” He checked his watch, humming at the time before he told you, “I have to go. We should meet again, though. And, really, think about it.”

“About what?”

Haechan was standing, securing his hat on his head again and taking another long sip of his drink before he looked directly asked you and repeated, for the second time, “Do you love him?”

📻

Taeyong’s apartment was warm; pleasantly covered in dim lights dangling from the ceiling, music lilting out of a speaker hidden by bodies in a small crowd. He ushered you in, “Hey you.”

His hug was welcome, just as warm as his home, “Hey Yong.”

You could hear Mark’s laugh, tucked away somewhere around the corner, mixed in with every other sound you had yet to match to a sight. The air was heavy with the smell of food, lingering on Taeyong’s clothes, on the apron tied around his waist. Taeyong slid your coat onto a hanger, put it in the closet and came to stand behind you, “He’s in the kitchen.”

You looked back at him, “He told you.”

Taeyong snorted, stepping around you into the apartment, “He’s telling everyone that will listen. Come on.”

As soon as you rounded the corner, as soon as you were in his line of sight, Johnny saw you. You watched the end of his sentence taper off, the way he stilled his stirring and the conversation he’d been having with Ten. Johnny locked onto you and opened his arms as wide as he could, heart full in his chest, “There’s my girl.”

You fell into him, breathed him in for the first time in two days - since your meeting with Haechan left you spiraling and Johnny turned spirals into comfortable, comforting spins. He held you close as you mumbled, “Hi babe.”

“Oh, I get it now.” Johnny held your hands around his waist, locked them there, “I like how that sounds.”

Johnny kissed your lips, Mark broke from his conversation with Yuta to hoot, to holler, to watch you tuck yourself back into Johnny, “Jesus.” You pushed your way under Johnny’s arm, “What are you making?”

He shrugged, closing the distance again and wrapping around you from behind, “Ask Taeyong.”

Johnny kissed your neck, palm flat on your stomach, the other guiding you to look back at him again. He wanted to kiss you, it was all he could think about all day. So, he blocked you from Mark’s view and moved his lips to yours, “Missed you.”

“Saw you this morning.” Johnny’s hand slipped down from your chin, down your arm, down to hold your hand in his. Insatiable was the closest to what he felt, “Missed you, too.”

“Stay with me tonight.” Johnny’s breath was hot against your ear, “Please.”

You hummed an agreement, sighed and leaned further into him, “Okay.”

Ten chopped vegetables behind you, “There are other rooms for that.”

“You can join.” He tossed the comment over his shoulder, Ten tossed a slice of carrot over his; laughing when it bounced off Johnny’s cheek and fell to the floor. Johnny turned back to you, “Did you see everyone else, yet?”

“Not yet.” You’d placed the spoon back into the pot, stirring the broth that bubbled and popped, “Who is here?”

“Yuta, Kun, obviously Mark and Ten.” Johnny looked around the room, “Jungwoo is on his way, Yangyang is running late and picking up Renjun.”

His name missing from the list didn’t go unnoticed. Do you love him had plagued you for two days. Words from a stranger that had embedded themselves in your brain, clawed at it until you didn’t have a choice but to listen. Johnny was warm against you and it was a comfortable distraction. Johnny was careful with you, easing you into view and keeping some things secret for the two of you. I wasn’t talking about him.

Part of you knew he wouldn't be here. Jaehyun would put as much distance between the two of you as he could; Taeyong was across the city, Taeyong lived in another world. You thought about asking Johnny to stay at yours tonight, to bring you back to your world and let you hang onto the last bit of closeness you had with Jaehyun. You were spiraling again.

“You okay?”

You nodded, “Kitchen is hot.”

“Come on.” Johnny pulled you from the heat of the stovetop, “Ten, can you stir.”

“Tell Kun he has to come cut.”

The living room was cooler, by far, louder and filled with interweaving conversations. You followed the end of one conversation and listened as it carried on into another, filling the empty space Kun had left on the couch.

Yuta had dyed his hair fire-engine red since the last time you’d seen him, a vibrant contrast to the layers of black he wore. He was engulfed in his conversation with Mark, elbows on his knees and leaned in. Mark, opposite him, seemed more at ease after his assessment date had passed. His hands moved wildly in front and around him, illustrating whatever he was relating to Yuta.

Taeyong was perched on the armrest of his chair, the one positioned in front of a shelf of his own work. His fingers were stained with paint, fading but always present, as they tapped at the screen of his phone. He looked up, lending his voice to the conversation when it was useful, turning his attention down when it wasn’t. Taeyong was similar to Johnny in that way, always moving with intention.

Kun and Ten were chatting in the kitchen, working around each other in remarkable sync. You were sure Ten had a new tattoo, just above his elbow, but he was too far away to tell now. Kun had pushed his glasses down from the top of his head, focused on the dish in front of him.

It made you feel sick, sitting in a space so full of life and still lingering on such an empty feeling. If you sat quietly long enough, you’d get lost in those thoughts. But, Johnny had his hand in yours and, when he could feel your grip loosening, he squeezed his fingers around yours and whispered something beautiful, something sweet. Something so wonderfully Johnny that you went from drifting to floating, only a slight difference between the two.

But it was enough for you to notice.

Kun told you all the food was ready, wiping at his hands with a towel before you all filed into the kitchen. Taeyong’s doorbell rang a second later, he rushed to answer it, “It’s probably Jungwoo.”

Just like Mark, you could hear him before you saw him. Jungwoo came into the kitchen with an announcement spilling from his lips, “I brought a surprise.”

Hope swelled in your chest, head turning and seeking him out. Searching for dimples, for a tugged at tie, for his laugh and his smell and the way he’d look for you, first. Ten spoke up, “Doyoung?”

And your hope shattered.

It was only when everyone filed out of the kitchen, only when you and Jungwoo remained, that you thought to ask, “Is Jaehyun not coming?”

Jungwoo licked at his fingertips, tasting a sauce Kun said was his specialty, “No. He couldn’t make it.” Jungwoo poured a ladle full of soup into his bowl, eyes flicking to you when he asked, “Didn’t he tell you?”

You lied, knowing the words fumbled coming out of your mouth. You lied, blinking and focusing on your already full plate. You looked up at Jungwoo and lied, “Yeah. Right. I must have forgotten.”

Jungwoo watched you leave the kitchen then, his phone heavy in his pocket with a message from Jaehyun.

8:12pm Tell me how she is.

previous. masterlist. next.

[sometimeslwish]

I read the "a ragdoll's foot got injured" dialogue from Zayne’s meow notes, thought "that ragdoll was probably the cat version of Xavier" and instantly thought about a cat cafe au where we?you?Mc? meet all of them while they've been cursed.

She happens to get recruited into staff about a few weeks/days after they're cursed and then gets promoted to cat caretaker because she's the only one that seems to be able to handle all of them (except Zayne, Zayne is a well behaved darling) and thus a friendship that could end in polyamory is born.

The beginning is very rocky; Sylus is a jerk, Rafayel is grumpy and tends to snap at people and cats alike, Zayne keeps to himself a lot and Xavier... he's just Xavier. He spends most of his time sleeping and never seizes to amaze you (or the other guys) with his weird sleeping positions.

Sylus and Rafayel don't get along, so they always keep them from being in the same room, but when you're in the room you're able to keep them calm.

Zayne doesn't really mind any of the guys, but there seems to be little bit of tension between him and Rafayel, and he tends to avoid the younger for who knows what reason.

Xavier is wary of Sylus but they don't do much beside the double edged teasing remark that makes you question whether they get along or not.

Rafayel and Xavier are besties who cause a little bit of mischief when they're not sleeping.

Zayne and Sylus don't bother each other. In fact, those two are a great team, sometimes you'll catch them napping, cleaning or doing other things together.

Sometimes you catch Zayne taking care of Xavier in quiet ways – blanket over him if it's cold, making sure he's in an area where no one will step on him and harm him while he sleeps (he sleeps heavy), putting his unfinished snacks away so the cats don't eat them and he can finish them later, etc– but he will never admit it out loud so Xavier never realizes and is kind of "eh, I did it in my sleep." (Secretly, he knows, he just doesn't know how to breach the subject and say thanks)

Xavier and Zayne used to be the mediators between the four, until you came around and threw most of the established dynamics out the window. And now there's not much need for mediation thanks to you.

Anyways, if anyone wanna expand on this and write it, go ahead. Don't worry about which way you go cause that's the fun in individual storytelling.

This post was previously seen in @unknown-ends

[only-lonely-star]

ok so basically. after a particularly rough and unfair rumble with the socs, not only is dallas exhausted and sore but hes acting all soft and clingy. when he showed up at your door all he wanted was for his girl to hold him. but he is a mess and hes covered in dirt, blood and sweat so fem reader suggests that he takes a shower but hes like “im tired…” and she suggests that she gets in to help him (COMPLETELY DOMESTIC NOT IN A FREAKY WAY) and dallas is too tired and touch starved to complain so instead of a cocky remark he agrees and reader basically just helps him clean up and get to bed. is this too much?😭 im sorry if it is!!! u 100% do not have to do it!! but ilysm and thank you!!!❤️❤️❤️

🫧⋆｡˚ Bruised and Bare ˚ ｡⋆ 🫧

Warnings - Slight pain inflicted on Dallas. Mentions of blood and bruises. Showering together. Established relationship between fem!reader and Dallas Winston.

Summary - Dallas comes to you for some comfort after a rough fight with some Soc boys. You offer to join him in a hot shower to relax and unwind :)

Author’s Note - I love you too, Anon, thank you for your request! 😼😼 Let me just say… DAMN IT FEELS GOOD TO BE BACK TO WRITING. The post-meeting-C.-Thomas-Howell depression is so real and hit me so strong. This is a rather short one, I apologize. I fear if I didn’t get to these requests soon enough then I’d procrastinate even more. I have like four WIPs right now, they’ll be out soon y’all. I love you all SO much, enjoy!!!! 🙈🙈

Word Count - 830

⋆.ೃ࿔.𖥔 ݁ ˖*:･༄ ⋆.ೃ࿔.𖥔 ݁ ˖*:･༄ ⋆.ೃ࿔.𖥔 ݁ ˖*:･༄ ⋆.ೃ࿔.𖥔 ݁ ˖*:･༄

The sudden knock on your door hadn’t taken you by surprise as you sauntered towards the tall, wooden frame. It was late. Visitors at this hour usually resulted in your rebellious boyfriend, Dallas, looking for a safe haven to spend the night at. It was no surprise when you pulled the doorknob and saw Dallas with a look of defeat and exhaustion in his eyes.

He was hunched over, his shoulders slouched to a new level of low. The boy’s eyes revealed he had endured a tough night already, but the scattered bruises in shades of red and purple told you the full story. “Come on and let me in, just let me cool off for a minute,” he pleaded, his eyes lifeless.

“Oh, Dallas, you went looking for trouble again, didn’t you?” you spoke with playful sarcasm, pulling him inside by the stretched-out collar of his tee.

As Dallas stumbled inside, his boots left footprints of mud across the welcome mat. “No, actually,” he retorted with equal sarcasm, “I took a few blows from them Soc guys we saw that day in the park. I thought I could take three, but hell- I guess not.” Dallas glanced down at his raggedy shirt, one that couldn’t be saved now that it was ripped and torn in just about every place imaginable.

Frowning, you extended a hand to cup his cheek. He looked absolutely defeated - a rare sighting for such a well-known fighter. He didn’t budge at the gentle touch, instead, he stepped forward and snaked his hands to rest on your hips idly. “I’m sorry, baby, c’mere,” you beckoned, gently stroking your thumb across his cheek.

Dallas obeyed, closing the distance between the two of you. He rested his chin on your shoulder, allowing his hand to press yours firmly against his cheek. His lips formed into a small pout. “It hurts, baby. Everywhere. We can just have an easy night and uh…chill in bed, how ‘bout that?”

You grimaced, pulling away slightly. “You ought to shower first, Dal, you ain’t staining my sheets with all that blood… and dirt…and whatever the hell that is,” you pointed to a smear of bright green across his white tee.

The groan Dallas let out was something else. He slouched further and shook your hips vigorously. “Come onnnn, I’m tired. I can’t- I can’t get a hug from my girl? Is that right? I come crawling to you for a simple hug and I can’t even get that?”

His little sob story wasn’t convincing you for shit. “Dallas, don’t hand me that. I’ll even step in with you, that way all you have to do is stand there.”

He shrugged. This was a win-win. He didn’t have to do a thing and on top of that, he got to spend time with you. “Thank you,” Dallas replied sincerely. You could tell right away he meant it, he needed this gentle form of care.

_________________________________________________

As you twisted the knob to adjust the water’s temperature, Dallas analyzed the markings on his cheekbones and under-eye area. His lip seemed to be busted up pretty well, along with a dark purple rim around his left cheekbone. He grinned, “Looks good, don’t it?”

Scoffing playfully, you ushered him closer, “Just get in.” Dallas slowly but surely trudged his way into the tub, standing under the shower head. With another twist, the hot water splashed down from the nozzle, running down his bruised back. His eyes shut instinctively as he felt around the air in front of him for your body. Following him inside, you grabbed the spare white washcloth which hung from the rack located just across the sink. You enclosed yourself inside as you pulled the shower curtain shut.

“Get my back first?” he requested with a soft smile. The exhaustion written on his face was clear as day, but he maintained a sincere tone when speaking with you.

“Yeah, I got you.” His shoulder blades were tense and stiff. The purple spotting along the more tender parts of his back caused a wince from the both of you. Dallas was tough, he’d never admit he’s truly hurt.

“Careful-,” he hissed with clenched teeth, stiffening as he felt your hand pressing the washcloth onto the sensitive area between his shoulders.

“Does that hurt, baby?” you drew back, hovering the dripping fabric over his body.

Dallas sighed meekly. While most was done to his face, he still had sore spots scattered throughout his entire body. “I’m sore all over darlin’, that’s why I just wanted to lay down.”

Feeling your heart clench out of sympathy, you kissed the tender spots along his spine. The steam emitted from the shower head provided the moist heat needed to soothe his aching body, much like your love for him. He found himself able to relax and wind down in the solace of your presence. Who would have thought that even Dallas Winston needed some tender love and care after all?

THANK YOU FOR READING!! YOU ARE THE BEST! ❤️‍🩹

[lupinsweater]

12 DAYS OF FICMAS

🎄ficmas masterlist | masterlist 🎄

❄️about me❄️

welcome to my blog!

♡ i thought it would be fun to do 12 short stories leading up to christmas! i have three stories that have four parts each- one for sirius, one for remus, and one for james. the fanfic will alternate every day (sirius, remus, james) until all four parts have been published. the first fic will be up on december 14th, and the last will come out on christmas day!

♡ this year’s ficmas theme is christmas music. i have picked a different christmas song for each marauder that the fanfictions will revolve around!

♡ all of these fanfictions have been written in advance and are posted on schedule by tumblr. i’ll check throughout the day but may not respond quickly! the holidays are a busy time of year and being with my family is my priority!

HAPPY HOLIDAYS!

© lupinsweater- please do not repost, copy, or translate my work.

feel free to message me any time!

[too-antigonish]

I was feeling very crabby.

(Weirdly specific rant: I should write a post about how after the first two days of deer season, grocery stores in Wisconsin look like people were shopping for the apocalypse and not just a weekend of heavy drinking at deer camp. This is the case *every* year--even though Thanksgiving is in only four days people! Order! More! Stock! Please! I don't *want* to shop with the last-minute hordes! I thought ahead and everything! And it *never* works!)

Then I got home and saw this...and of course I used it as an excuse to go watch the whole video...again.

And now I'm fine.

Music Video Monday

aka I'm out of new tache photos and I just did lots of pretty screenshots of Evans in that music video...

[wigglebox]

Destiel Pride - Day 14; Transition