#anything to escape this hell that I'm currently experiencing

[lover-of-skellies]

Me this morning: happy, chill, sleepy, in my warm bed, all is right with the world

Me now, after talking to people about legal stuff that, if I fuck up even the tiniest bit in any way that's perceived as malicious, I'll suffer big huge consequences for: no longer chill and vibrating with anxiety, time to die

[cannibal-walleye]

RAHHHHH CANNIBAL WALLEYE WALLEYE CANNIBAL YOU NEVER MISSSSS JUMPING OFF THE WALLLSSSS

Just got the chance to finish chapter 9 and i will cryyyyyy. Impulse :( Skizz caring about Impulse :( they're all so stupid :( I can't wait till I have time to draw RAHHH

I have a feeling this is going to be one of the chapters that really stick with me. Aside from the WONDERFUL writing, and the AMAZING portrayal of emotions, I can, unfortunately, really connect and sympathize with Impulse this chapter lol

Obviously not to go too into detail or start venting or anything, today has been A LOT. had to get up earlier than i can properly function, go to physical therapy, just got back from a saline infusion,

(Trigger warning: needles, and slight medical errors. feel free to skip lol Tylically the place i go to for infusions are quick and easy, but today they didnt fail once, but TWICE. blew two veins, and when they finally got everything said and done, the needle hurt like HELL going in, when usually i can't feel it)

and I STILL have another appointment I need to go to later today. On top of all that I also have to fit in schoolwork. Definitely feels like stuff that doesn't normally bother me is building up, and FAST, I can only imagine what Impulse is feeling. Actually, not true, I can READ it lol. (And it will never fail to make me Feel™ what they are Feeling™)

Once again, everything is so very wonderfully written it's insane. Despite being similar to what I'm currently feeling, it still felt like an escape rather than adding to the stress, yknow? Which, personally, as someone who struggles with writing in general. Is just plain insane to me.

Also the shower scene. Beautifully written. You can practically feel the tension melting off of Impulse before his thoughts start getting a bit too much. Very relatable. Very cozy with the perfect amount of oomph. I want Skizz to hug him and tell him it's going to be okay so bad I could rival the sun in intensity. Like. Cannibal. Cannibal please. Let them be happy. (Make it last. I want to see them suffer.) I want to draw them being happy together (i want to draw them being sad together. They should be miserable a bit longer. As a treat.)

Don't want this to go on for too long, because I feel like it's already longer than it probably should be, even if I could ramble for hours. But I just wanted to say that this chapter made me especially happy :] (also im surprised Skizz didn't know he was a demon. Hmm. The thoughts are brewing lol.)

Last but not least, do you mind being called just "cannibal?" Because personally, I find it very silly, but if it bothers you at all I can just. Not, lol. <3 (Also feel free not to answer this if its too long or makes you uncomfortable in any way, I definitely rambled about my day way more than I intended. Whoops.)

hehehe I know >:3 (I'm gonna answer this with a paragraph for each of ur paragraphs btw)

Cry. Do it. I dare you to. They ARE so silly and sad and also so so caring for each other <3 <3 ((also if u drew something i would love u forever haha))

I'm so pleased to hear that you think it's going to stick with you! That's actually such an honor, you're making me blush ^///^ But yeah, I think we're all relating to Impulse this chapter, which is honestly rather unfortunate. But hey! At least I'm hitting home 🙃

I don't mind venting!! Vent away <3 Also I feel that, getting up earlier than it feels you can function. Had that last semester, fortunately I have no 8 ams this time around.

I'm so sorry to hear that D: I hope you're all recovered by the time I answer this <3 I had a similar thing years ago, where I injured myself and they had to draw blood and just couldn't get the needle right. I think they tried 5 times on both arms. Somehow, I'm not afraid of needles after that, but I totally get what you're experiencing and wish you all the best *throws infinite hearts at you*

It really is just an endless cycle sometimes, huh? The little things can pile up quickly if you're not careful about noticing and taking care of yourself. I hope you got to take a warm shower, or do something comforting to you afterwards. My go-to is a mug of hot chocolate :] (and speaking of, I actually just had one lol)

Thank you thank you thank you!!! I'm glad it felt like an escape. I find it difficult to read works that are bleak or overly miserable, so I'm happy to hear that it wasn't just sad for you, that it helped with your own experiences. Something something comfort in solidarity and shared suffering

Yeah the shower scene :))) Fun fact: I came up with the idea while in the shower. It's so distracting at first when there's something to do, what with washing up n such. And then, there's that period where it's so comfortable, but purposeless, and that's where the thoughts get you. At least for me, and thus Impulse. But mostly, a very very safe space where things don't feel quite so oppressive. And the Skizz hugs, I'm sure they're coming one day ;) ((also the "I want to see them suffer" is far too true for me lmao. make it ANGSTY)) Again, if you draw, I will give u a real life kiss and make you a cinnamon roll. You deserve to draw them, as a treat. ((YES DRAW THEM SAD >:D the misery makes the relief all the sweeter at the end))

I don't mind long asks! And I ESPECIALLY don't mind rambling about my story. I live off that stuff, yes please. Genuinely makes my day, reading comments and seeing these extra reactions :)))) If you want to ramble, always feel free to send in an ask, or even message me directly! I won't bite you (I only bite Skizz), and I'm always happy to have someone to ramble about skizzpulse with (So, if you have thoughts brewing about Skizz not knowing he was a demon, you're invited to send them my way)

You can call me Walleye! Cannibal just describes my feelings on Imp and Skizz, you know? And yeah, Cannibal does feel like a silly name, so hopefully Walleye feels a little less silly

Thank you so so sosoSOOSOSOSOSO much for the ask, I can't even begin to explain how happy this makes me. Hopy you're feeling better! Drink water, get some rest, take care of yourself!! <3

Walleye out o7

[indescribeable]

Can you write Sam comforting Mika when depressed?

Ok so I have very much so been slacking I know and I'm sorry I just really haven't had any motivation to write anything but I got pinged with this ask today and even though I have like 3 or four other asks in my inbox I decided to try this one (don't worry those who asked me for other scenarios I will get around to doing them eventually I promise but for now here you go I hope you enjoy. TW mentions depression it's not heavy but it is there. Sorry, it's so short but I hope you like it anon <3

It's okay not to be okay.

Title from kdrama of the same name.

Depression unfortunately is never black and white, it takes on many different forms and is often a rollercoaster, never simple, never easy. There may be millions of articles and studies on the subject but no definitive answer or cure. You lose the motivation to do even basic tasks. Mika had experienced what felt like all ends of the spectrum when it came to depression, she had been in some deep and truly dark places throughout her life and managed to get back out somehow but never fully escaped them. It had been quite some time since she had an episode like that, which made her feel worse. She was upset with herself for falling back in, Currently, she was lying in her comfort clothing, baggy grey sweatpants and a hoodie drowning herself in her bed covers staring aimlessly out the large windows leading to the balcony of her room. Rain battered the windows, the room cast in a dark grey shadow fitting for her current mood and state. She had been there for days now barely moving, barely eating and it was safe to say the boys were getting concerned.

They were doing all they could think of to try to make her feel better, James had turned to researching Mika's symptoms trying to figure out what was going on though to his dismay as depression was such a wide and intricate subject he couldn't find what he was looking for, sure there were multiple things you could try but at the end of the day there was no definitive cure and for a lot of the suggested things to work the person dealing with it has to be willing to try like therapy for example sure it would probably help her alot but unless she was willing to try it he couldnt do anything as forcing her into it wouldn’t benefit anybody , Erik tried to help Mika relax through things like playing relaxing piano music, tried helping her through her dreams (with permission of course) but still couldn't make any progress, Matthew made her favourite foods and sweets, tried to get her to play video games with him, he made her a plethora of stuffed animals even simon tabby was trying his best so much so he was behaving for once staying with her snuggled up to try and provide what comfort he could, Damien was there to listen, to talk, it hurt being able to hear all the dark things she was thinking about herself and he tried his best to reassure her but if she didnt believe it herself then not much would come of it. 

Sam on the other hand hadn’t come to see her, it's not that he didn't want to but he was never really good with human emotions, never great at providing comfort, never good with his words. It was eating away at him that she wasn't ok, that he couldn't figure out what the hell he was supposed to do. She had already been through so much with Malix and Diana, her parents and even that jackass Andrew, it angered him to no end that even though those events had long since passed that they all still managed to affect her life. The few days she had been cooped up in her room she hadn't eaten and wasnt taking care of herself, the boys were running out of ideas and had a meeting around half an hour ago the conclusion being to get Sam to go check on her even with his objection, not because he didn't want to but because he didn't know what to do, didn't want to make it worse so he had been pacing outside her door for the last 20 minutes, luckily she couldn't hear his pacing due to the storm outside.

His pacing only came to a halt when he heard sniffles coming from her room. She had been silent as a mouse for the past few days but she had finally broken. The choked sobs and sniffles broke his heart, knowing he couldn't just leave her like that he finally worked up the courage to go inside. Slowly raising his hand he gently knocked on her door.

“Hey, doofus it's me……..can I come in?” 

As soon as he spoke the sobbing stopped and after a few moments he heard a feint “okay” come from the other side of the door, it took him a second to register what she had said as it was so quiet but as soon as he did he gently opened the door stepping inside the room shutting the door behind him. He stood there for a few moments not really sure what to do, she hadn't moved and they both just sat in silence for what felt like an eternity. Not being able to take it anymore Sam made his way over to the side of the bed Mika was currently lying on sitting on the edge staring out the windows with her. Again silence fell over the two but it felt less awkward they stayed like that for a while before Sam spoke up turning to face her as he did.

“Doofus look at me” 

It took her a few moments but eventually, she gave in looking up at him. Her eyes were all red, puffy and swollen and she had a permanent frown etched onto her face. Sam's expression softened before he reached over petting her hair as he spoke.

“Look doofus, im not really good at this kind of stuff and I have no idea what you're going through, I know I haven't come to see you before now but I just didn’t know what to do and I didn't want to make it worse for you but I want you to know that im here for you I don't know if that's reassuring or comforting for you but it's all I've got, I’m not like Damien I cant easily figure out what going on in that head of yours but I can say with 100% certainty that nothing is your fault and its ok to let yourself feel sad or angry heck if needed you can come take your anger out on me for all I care I wouldn't doubt that I deserve it but you can't do that if you don’t take care of yourself. Like I said I don’t know what you're going through and I can tell it's hard for you but you do deserve to be happy Mika, you have done so much for me and my brothers not that we really deserve it with the shit storm we've ended up bringing into your life but were all really worried about you……….. I’m really worried about you.” 

Silent tears began flooding from Mika's eyes as she stared into his concerned green ones.

“Im really sorry Sam, all I ever seem to do is worry you guys, I don’t want to feel this way but I can't help it, I feel like im just being dragged further and further into the darkness with no way out and…. I didn’t want to drag you guys down with me.” 

Sam's frown deepened as he gently picked up one of Mika's hands capturing it with both of his larger ones letting out a large sigh before responding. 

“Doofus you are always thinking of everyone else before yourself, don’t worry about us all we want is for you to get better no matter how long it takes, no matter what it takes you should be worrying about yourself, not us.” 

She let out a huffed laugh before responding “You should take your own advice too ya know.” Sam let out a light chuckle at that. 

“You may be right but don't change the subject this is about you, not me, I know that whatever any of us say isn't going to make you instantly better but I wasn't lying im here to talk to whenever you need even if you just need to rant as someone listens.”

“The thing is I don’t have anything to say, I can’t even figure out what's wrong with me all I know is I feel really heavy, I don't have the energy to do anything it’s like I have this huge hole where my hearts supposed to be, my mind won't shut up and I can't help but believe everything it’s telling me I don’t want to but I can't help it.” As she continued to speak rogue tears began to stream down her cheeks. “I know that what im thinking isn't true but I can't let myself believe that no matter how hard I try, I’m so sick and tired of fighting with myself, of being exhausted all the damn time, I can't even do something as basic as fucking taking care of myself!” At this point she was sobbing and shaking as she spoke, Sam could feel the rage coming off her though it was only for a short moment as quickly as it arrived it was replaced with sadness. Before he could even register what he was doing Sam had pulled her upright wrapping her in a tight hug, as she buried her face in his shoulder he buried his nose in her hair squeezing as tight as he could while still giving her enough room to breathe. He didn't know much about this kind of thing but he did know that applying enough pressure could help relax her. 

After what felt like an eternity of tears Mika finally ran out and they simply sat there in silence neither of them willing to move out of the embrace. 

“You don’t have to bottle it all up Doofus, take it from me keeping it all to yourself doesn't help anyone and there's no shame in asking for help.” 

After a few moments, she pulled back lifting her head with a small yet truly genuine smile on her face flooding Sam with relief the wave so powerful it almost knocked him down.

She reached up with her small shaking hand gently cupping his cheek before responding “Thank you, Sammy, I really don't know what I would do without you. I can’t promise you anything but im gonna try and you're not as bad at this as you think you are ya know.” 

He couldn't help his cheeks flushing at the nickname and her words but still, he offered her a kind and relieved smile before pulling her into another bear hug. 

“That's all we could ever ask of you, doofus and thank you I don't agree with you on that last bit but thank you.” 

She chuckled in response “It doesn't matter if you don't agree with me it's still true.”

After a few moments of companionable silence, Mika spoke up again raising her head to meet his eyes blushing before speaking. 

“Will you stay with me? I really don’t want to be alone right now.” 

Sam responded with a blush of his own covering his cheeks nodding “Sure doofus.” 

Sam gently released her from his arms letting her settle back down onto the bed before laying next to her facing her and pulling her tight to his chest nuzzling the top of her head with his nose. As both of their eyelids began to feel heavy a thought popped into his head.

“Hey doofus you still haven't eaten anything yet.”

Mika responded quietly slightly slurring her words as she was quickly falling asleep. 

“I’ll eat when we wake up.” Sam let out a soft chuckle before responding.

“You better or I'll throw you over my shoulder and bring you down to the kitchen myself.” 

She let out a light sleepy chuckle in response tickling his chest with her breath.

“I promise I will, as long as you make breakfast.” 

“Are you sure you want that doofus, there's a reason why Matthew and James do all the cooking you know.” 

She chuckled again before responding. “I don’t care im only gonna eat it if you make it.” 

She could feel him smile against the top of her head the feeling giving her a sense of warmth she hadn't felt for days.

“Fine doofus ill make breakfast but even if it tastes like shit your still eating it.” 

“Haha, as long as you're making it I’ll eat it.” 

Finally, they both drifted off into a peaceful sleep in each other's arms the sound of heavy rain fading away as the sky outside cleared and the sun began to set filling the room with an orange glow before fading into comforting darkness. 

[pokoinsides]

Uuuh...

Here is the list of the characters(the first part),whose stories and existence are possible to find in this AU - Traumatic Pasta: (‼️TW:Mentions of SA,selfharm,violence,child neglect, alcoholism‼️)

I also need to notice,that everything in this universe happens in early 2010s (wanna avoid all the questions about character's age,so just telling you in case you care :P)

🍭🫀 - Laughing Jack: used to kill children,making their death the most horrible,painful, gruesome and disgusting,but now he's a babysitter for all the pastas.Of course,Jack would rather die than be a lovely housewife till the end of his existence,but he has to, because of having a debt to the faceless mf.It is a story for another post,but to be short,Slenderman is the current owner his soul, who's giving L.J protection from angels out of Heavenly Office,who wanted to send him to the hell after his ward Isaac(since L.J is a paradise twink,I formed a theory,that he,unlike other entities,can possibly have soul).

The clown is irritated by every noise and cough,emotional as fuck and can barely bear the existence of the children of the mansion (exceptions: Sally and Toby.They're mama's innocent kittens forever and no matter what).

👔🐙 - Slenderman: actually,fella doesn't give any fuck about the fact of a bunch of mentally unstable teens living in the mansion located in the middle of the forest under his wing,because it's not his,but only Jack's concerns.His only goals are to use this emo gang in his own interests,so he barely cares of the poor ones' physiological condition and mental health.

Slenderman is extremely cold and arrogant towards everyone,even to Jack.To be honest, it's the whole event,if he shows up in the mansion to give his proxies orders about next missions and call Jackie's tartlets a piece of shit.

🧸🖍️ - Sally Williams: the poor one is a doomed spirit,who has got accidentally adopted by Slenderman (he just picked her soul up,carried it to Jack and then was like:"Here,do whatever you want with it").Sally doesn't remember,how she has got into the mansion and the abuse provided to her by her uncle.The girl doesn't even know,that she's dead and travels between two worlds in her ghosty head - the first one is cute and adorable with unicorns and glitter and the second one is just...just the reality with all the goofy monsters there.

Sally's actually a cute bun,who's really easy to get distracted with some silly activities (drawing or playing,for example).Sometimes she's whiny and moody as any other alive child.Her favourite activities are getting on Jack's nerves and following Slenderman around.

Mental illnesses:

-Canon: honestly,I haven't found anything certain about Sally's mental health problems (except the fact,that she gets anxious,if her uncle is mentioned,which could be some kind of the first symptoms of PTSD,if I'm not wrong).

-Headcanon: retrograde amnesia,psychosis.

🧇🪓 - Toby Rogers: he's a mentally unstable teen around 16-17.His backstory in this au is pretty similar to the original one.The only exception is,that he hasn't burnt the whole neighborhood - instead,he was sponsored by the faceless mf with an axe from the garage,killed his abusive father and then a few more innocent people on his way to the forest.That's the reason,why he's feeling a bit of guilt because of having blood on his hands (not his father's one,ofc).

Toby had never experienced any kind of healthy family dynamic,so,when he had started living under Slendy's care,he quickly got attached both to L.J and Slenderman,seeing parental figures in them.He's literally the one,who gets nervous,when two entities have arguments and always tries to bring them together.

Mental illnesses:

-Canon: BPD,analgesia,Tourettes Syndrome.

-Headcanon: ADHD, generalized anxiety disorder (I dunno,if it's allowed to use GAD,so yeah).

🚬💊 - Tim Wright: he's an old mf in his early thirties.After beating all the shit out of Jay on the parking place,he decided to escape from the state and then (what a surprise!) got caught by the slendy fucker again,so he just...gave up?

Understanding his own helplessness in the situation,he decided to take its course,letting Masky follow Slenderman's orders and himself just becoming a drunkard,who tries to lose his consciousness of the whole desperation in alcohol.

Mental illnesses:

-Canon: in Marble Hornets' series it is noticed,that Tim has been suspected in having schizophrenia in his childhood,but it has never been proved or disproved,so I won't try to say something certain on this topic<:)

-Headcanon: DID (alter - Masky),Korsakoff's Syndrome (due to alcohol),CPTSD (thanks to faceless daddy;333).

🎭🔪 - Masky: Tim's alter.If the host for the current moment of plot is an always drunk to vomit vegetable,Masky is a cold-blooded murderer with no morals and whose only goal is following Slenderman's orders.In spite of being hated by Tim with all his soul,Masky himself is pretty neutral to him.He tries to care as much as he want and can about the body's health,preventing any suicide attempts or extreme self harm,but at all he only does it to keep body decent for missions.Plays the role of trauma holder and protector.

🎨🩸 - Bloody Painter: a murderous sicko with passion for art.He is one of the killers,whose determination of reality is the least broken,so all his felonies are done just because of the lack of moral.

It's really rare to see Helen anywhere out of his working place in the mansion.He even prefers to eat in his room,avoiding "family dinners".In communication with others Helen shows himself like a polite young man with high manners,but he still tries to avoid any contact with other pastas.

Mental illnesses:

-Canon: some wiki pages notice,that Helen is in autistic spectrum,so I'll add it here too:)

-Headcanon:body dysmorphophobia (due to the trauma tied up with his parents and their will to have a girl,not a boy).

That's all for today.I'm going to upload the rest a little bit later!:D

I don't have any decent arts for this post,so here you have the ones I've made with L.J and others for my friends.

[cosmiccrushes]

Not Part Of The Crew

Law x OC || 2.2k word chapter || 12.9k words total

Read the other chapters on ao3!

CW: brief mention of blood

i've got a nasty cold right now so fingers crossed this chapter isn't complete nonsense but i'm on cold & flu meds and can't breathe out of my nose properly so fuck it, post

CH 6

“Fuck, fuck, fuuuck.” 

Rue shoves her way through the congested dock of Bell island. By no means as busy of a port as Ashita Island, but various fisherman and dock workers jostle Rue to and fro. Incredibly annoying, seeing as she was currently trying to make an inconspicuous exit from the crowd. No more than ten minutes after Law dropped her off, she nearly walked straight into a couple of Fang Pirates hanging a poster up at a bulletin board. A poster with her picture, her name, and a bounty. A literal fucking bounty. Rue’s heart dropped. 

Why would the government issue a bounty for her? She wasn’t a bloody pirate! She wasn’t part of Fangle’s crew! She’s only a bard, making berry for Malax, sure. But by imprisonment, not choice! She didn’t belong to his brutal fighting force- which the government hadn’t done a damn thing about anyways. And why the hell would the Fang Pirates- obvious by the Fang emblem they wore on their shirts- be the ones hanging her wanted poster up? A brief scan around confirmed there were no Navy officers in the port- per usual in these waters. Rue couldn’t recall the last time she’d seen a naval ship anywhere near Ashita Island. She suspected a hefty bribe kept them well away from Fangle’s business in this island chain. Rue snuck closer to the board, praying to the high seas that the two pirates wouldn’t turn in her direction. 

Well, shit. This poster was no government issued bounty. Oh, no. Right there under her picture and name were the words: Reward to be paid by the Fang Pirates upon return. Not even the decency to name his price upfront! That absolute bastard. Rue knew Malax Fangle would be coming for her, of course he would. The Fang Pirates would be hunting her. She hadn’t, to her complete chagrin, considered that he would enlist the local islands to do his dirty work for him though. 

Rue finally breaks through the throng of people and heads towards the first alley she sees, muttering obscenities under her breath. As the cool shade between buildings envelopes her, Rue slumps against the wall. Lightly thumping her head against the brick- can’t very well risk a concussion on top of this catastrophic turn of events. Rue’s plan, admittedly, largely involved exactly one step- escape. And it had just been rendered unimaginably more difficult. 

“Fuuuuck,” she said on an exhale, hanging on to the word for as long as her breath would allow- which was a while, she was a bard. A bard who now couldn’t safely perform in any tavern within the Fang Pirates’ territory. No berry for travel, shelter, food. She resisted the urge to put her fist into the brick wall in front of her, overcome by a deep wellspring of rage bursting forth. A rage untapped in years. Not even drawn from when Carlo’s blood spilled out in front of her, soaking into the wooden floorboards, seeping into the crevices of her memory. A stain she’d never get out. Too numb from the shock to feel anything, do anything but get away.

You can grieve later, you can be angry later. She’d told herself that as she’d plotted her escape from Malax’s clutches, her focus single-minded. Get away, then figure out how to get revenge. Justice. Rue was prepared to spend however long it took running from the Fang Pirates. But this? Malax had just made her a target for every single person eager to earn favor with him, desperate for a chance to earn berry. Now staying one step ahead of Malax meant outrunning his blasted devil fruit powers without the one thing that Rue could always rely on, her voice.

Just like that, Rue was sixteen again. She’d been traveling as a bard for a couple of years by then. Experiencing relief like a cold compress against a blistering wound each time she stepped in front of a crowd and opened her mouth. Wondrously shocking to discover she was not only good at something, but that she actually enjoyed something. Singing, weaving a story with her voice, became a salve Rue used to treat the deep gash in her life where a childhood should’ve been. 

Once, when she was sixteen, Rue caught a terrible flu. It lasted for two weeks, leaving her unable to perform. She’d had to rely on the meager savings she’d scraped together to rent out a broom closet of a room, a straw mat on the floor, the only furniture. Creeping out to steal food when she could muster up the energy to do so. Going hungry on the days she couldn’t. Rue laid curled on that straw mat contemplating that she may actually die there. All because she couldn’t do the one thing that gave her the ability to protect herself. It’d been hell.

And she’d been so angry. It wasn’t fair. All Rue had was her voice. Without it, she was trapped, helpless. She loathed feeling that way. It terrified her. Reminded her of being a child at the whims of whatever adults ruled the orphanage that week. Rue learned at a young age how to hide behind fake smiles and sharp words. When she sang, she felt seen, she felt real. She couldn’t fathom losing that tangibility after finding it. Without it, she was reduced back to a tiny pinprick of existence, balancing one goal of survivability on its needle edge. No room for her to be anything else. The parts of her that weren't about surviving were forced to become incorporeal, to hover at the edges of that point. But when she sang…when she sang she solidified. That knife edge turning on its side, still a sharpened blade but giving her more space to exist. 

The first sob wrenched out of her as she lurched further down the alley. The need to flee, clawing at her skin. But there was nowhere to go. Rue collapsed behind some discarded barrels, hunkering down over herself as her body trembled with the force of her silent tears. This is why Rue didn’t let herself form attachments. Attachments meant pain, loss. Because in the end, she was always all alone. Even as the thought occurred, Rue knew it wasn’t fair to Carlo. He hadn’t forced her to care about him. Certainly hadn’t forced her to stay for him. And he hadn’t really left her alone. He’d been by her side, until the very end. Because that’s what you do for family, Cerulean. 

Rue wills herself to take deep, shuddering breaths. She cannot fall apart now. Malax Fangle wields the Sagasu Sagasu no Mi- the Find Find Fruit. He can find anyone, as long as he’s touched them just once. Stay more than three days in one place and his devil fruit powers would lock onto her location. The closer his target was, the quicker their location was triangulated. Rue had no time to dissolve into a shivering mess in this alley. She couldn't afford to do that when she was sixteen and literally a shivering, feverish mess. Maybe not that much has changed for her over the years after all. But one thing has. 

You can grieve later, you can be angry later. Right now, you need to move. There’s one performance that cannot wait. Rue tells herself this, her breathing settling as she staggers to her feet. A requiem for revenge. A reprise of reprisal. Whatever title she gave it, someway, somehow, she’d make damn sure it was the last song Malax Fangle ever heard. 

***

“Please, Delphi,” Rue doesn't bother trying to keep the desperation out of her voice as she addresses the hostel owner. Delphi runs the hostel of choice amongst performers traveling through Bell Island. Off the beaten track, perfect for a bard looking for a quiet rest after a rowdy night on the stage. A risk coming to her, but Rue hoped her history of being a dependable and trouble-free patron would earn her a spot of kindness. Before being ensnared by Malax, Bell Island was a typical stop on Rue’s route. Rue couldn’t exactly say that she’d built a relationship with Delphi, but surely their professional rapport held worth. Rue hates asking for help. Knows it often comes with strings attached and Rue couldn’t handle being pulled in any more directions. Rue didn’t ask for help, she bartered. So much easier when expectations were clear and she knew exactly what someone expected from her in return. Standing in front of Delphi, there was nothing Rue could offer in return for the hostel owner’s help. 

The arms crossed over Delphi’s chest had any hope of a meaningful rapport rapidly declining. “I know you're wanted, Rue. I'm not looking for trouble by inviting an enemy of the Fang Pirates into my business.” 

“An enemy? Aw, come on Delphi, you know how Malax is! We're all his enemy! I'm just asking you for a place to lay low for a day and a hot meal to eat. Then I'm gone. I promise. I’m not trying to bring trouble to your doorstep. I just-” Rue’s voice falters. “I just need help.” 

Delphi sighs, staring Rue up and down before looking away. “You can go round back, hide in the kitchen. Get yourself a meal while you're there.” 

“Delphi, thank you.” 

Delphi gives Rue a hard look. “If Malax’s men come asking questions, I won't lie for you. Ignorance I'm willing to claim. I'll say I let you in before I heard anything about the bounty. Outright disobedience to Fangle though?” Delphi shakes her head. “I'm sorry, Rue. I can't do that for you.” 

Rue nods. “I understand, Delphi. I'll be discreet and I'll be out of here as soon as possible.”

Delphi hesitates, hand poised to close the hostel's front door. “For what it's worth, Rue, I hope they don't come asking questions.” Delphi closes the door before Rue can respond. 

***

Rue spends the hours making herself as small and unobtrusive as she can while Delphi's kitchen staff bustles around her. They offer her food and drink which Rue consumes, figuring it might be the last substantial and non-fruit centric meal she has in the foreseeable future. Because Rue’s pretty sure her next move is quickly turning into her only move, her signature move. Great. Well, there are worse ways to spend your life than hiding away in shipping crates of produce. Shipping crates of poisonous snakes, for example. Rue's dark sense of humor will be an excellent companion for her life spent in dark cargo holds at sea.   

She inquires with one of Delphi's cooks on whether they know the shipping schedule at the docks. As luck would have it, the early hours of tomorrow morning will see Bell Island's export of apples shipped out. Rue really, really hopes she ends up on a merchant vessel this time, not another pirate ship. 

Ending up on Trafalgar Law’s ship could've meant death. She got lucky that Law had a penchant for mysteries and didn't chop her up into pieces on sight. She may not get so lucky again. 

Rue pulls the book Law gave her out of her pocket. Her heart flutters as she stares down at it. A small novel bearing the title The Bard’s Bewitchment. Trafalgar Law. Suspiciously unmurderous, aggravatingly handsome, funny and…returning a flirtatious jab? It couldn’t be. He didn’t mean it like that, surely. Rue hadn’t bewitched him, she’d simply intrigued him. Rue ran a finger over the embossed title. Spending the day reading in his office had soothed her anxiety. A gentle, meditative hum in the midst of this discordant chorus of her life. She's never going to see him again. But what might it be like if she did? Would his coolheaded presence make her feel calm again? Would teasing him make her feel…real again?

Rue opens the book, settling into her wooden chair in the corner of the kitchen. She's got some time to pass. Might as well see what kind of book Trafalgar Law finds giftable. As she curls her feet under her, she lets herself imagine she’s back on his ship, sinking into his plush sofa cushions. Nothing more to worry about than what book to select next and what barb to send at Trafalgar Law while she did it.  

***

The predawn hours and a foggy chill shrouds Rue as she creeps along the wharf. She'd managed to sleep some, propped in a chair in Delphi's kitchen, Law’s book tucked safely back into her jacket pocket when her eyes grew too heavy to keep reading. She can feel the aches settling in her bones and the exhaustion settling behind her eyes. 

Fingers numb, she pops the lid off of a wooden crate, moving slowly to avoid drawing the attention of the few dock workers already bustling about. A glance inside confirms it's part of the shipment of apples she was aiming for.

As quietly and quickly as possible, Rue scoops apples out, gently tossing them over the side of the pier into the ocean. Cringing at how bad it feels to discard perfectly good food. Then again, she’s trying really hard to keep her life from being discarded. Sorry apples, it’s me or you. 

When there’s a space big enough for her to wedge herself in, she climbs inside, pulling the lid back into place over her. Pretending it absolutely does not feel like sealing her own tomb. 

[courtana]

‏Hi, I am Omar Hilles

‏This is my third account after the other two were suspended

‏I'm fighting for everyone and just want help with my campaign

‏I didn't do anything illegal, I just asked for help

‏I hope you can help me by donating or sharing

‏Hello, my name is Yousef Hilles from Gaza. I followed my campaign and was verified by @el-shab-hussein I hope you can help Campaign number (206)

‏https://www.gofundme.com/f/btuqqt-save-my-familys-life

Thank you for your message! ❤️

Youssef and Omar's campaign was vetted by el-shab-hussein and nabulsi and is #206 in their vetted fundraisers masterlist.

He currently has €6,892 raised of his €23,000 target.

Omar is promoting his father's campaign to rescue his family from Gaza. Youssef's family was forced to leave their home on Al-Nasr Street after receiving threats from the Israeli army. His family had no choice but walk 8 kilometers along Salah al-Din Street to escape to southern Gaza. His family has witnessed and face death and other forms of human destruction that no children should have to see. First they tried to find shelter in an UNRWA school in Khan Yunis, but it quickly became unsafe. Then they moved to Rafah where they lived in a humble tent with little food, water, or medical care. Conditions became unbearable, and they were forced to flee to Deir al-Balah. Youssef has already lost many relatives in this brutal war, and he does not want to lose his family. Donations would help them evacuate to Egypt and hopefully reunite with Youssef.

Please donate to & share their GoFundMe page:

Please reblog and boost their text post, too, especially since their accounts keep on being deactivated by tumblr's moderators.

[sheplayswithlifee]

Thanks for the tags!! I was tagged by @simvouge to list 3 facts about a fav sim. I chose Joya. 1. She wrote a few best sellers, her very first Best Seller was Living in Darkness. 2. She loved to travel. She and Carlos explored every part of the jungle. They did not climb the mountain as planned in Mt. K. though. 3. Her fav color was purple.

I'm gonna def chose a diff sim next time. . . maybe

♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ I was tagged to do 15 questions for 15 mutuals by @nightlifeseries , @therichantsim and @astoldbychae . Thanks!!

1: are you named after anyone? Yup. Sade, the singer. Just not spelled the same.

2: when was the last time you cried? A few days ago.

3: do you have kids? Nope.

4: do you use sarcasm a lot? Almost constantly.

5: what sports do you play/ have played? Volleyball, softball, kickball. Not on a team or anything, I just played them.

6: what's the first thing you notice about other people? Their teeth.

7: eye color? Brown

8: scary movies or happy endings? Scary movies aren't scary and happy endings are super realistic sooo...

9: any special talents? My ability to stay in the house for weeks at a time without the slightest urge to leave is a talent. 10: where were you born? In the seventh circle of hell, I've not escaped yet. It's too expensive.

11: what are your hobbies? Playing video games, reading and yoga. . .

12: do you have any pets? No but I want a dog. They're like kids though so maybe I should just be a dog sitter.

13: how tall are you? Like 5'3".

14: favorite subject in school? Math

15: dream job? I don't dream of labor, weird. I dream of traveling and experiencing the world.

♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡

rules: tag 9 people you would like to get to know/catch up with

Tagged by @percosim :) last song: Marceline by Willow last show: Bojack Horsemen currently watching: What the Health? currently reading: The Auto biography of W.E.B. DuBois. current obsession: Finding a new job.

You can do any of these 3 tag games if you haven't already. I tag: @ladytee918, @hause-of-pancakes, @amanda-plays @shunohoney626, @mochamoodlet, @simphic. @tau1tvec, @earthmoonz, @mysimsloveaffair, @ladybugsimblr, @wifemomsimmer @akitasimblr, @iwik-compiled and anyone else who wants to do these.

[jill-1234]

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭

I took a listen to all these songs a few days ago and they really spoke to me. I could easily relate to each and every one of them. Most of my relationships have never worked out due to either long distance or there was something wrong with it. It hurts because sometimes I feel like I still have feelings for some of my ex's even though I have moved on. I've experienced heart break way too many times to count to the point where I've gone so numb to it. I'm gonna be real and open. I'm honestly scared to get into a new one. The last relationship I recently had was with two girls and again they didn't work out due to long distance or that there was a lack of communication and the parents were homophobic about it. I'd say the first real relationship I ever had was 8 years ago with a boy I truly loved with all my heart but for some reason it just didn't work. To this day I still have no idea why we broke up in the first place. We were young and we probably didn't know any better back then. I admit it. I have fallen so head over heels for someone (not going to say who) at first I thought I was just infatuated with him but no. There's definitely a strong attraction there. I just doubt we would even work out. That it would even last if by some miracle. They don't realize that I would do anything for them. That I would treat them better. That I'd spoil the living hell out of them. I'd give them everything they need and even give them what they want WHENEVER they want. Both physically, mentally, and emotionally. The fact that I think about them every single night drives me crazy and sends me into so many bubbly feelings that I just can't explain it. I like them as a person so very much. I wish they could see that. It's been so long since I FELT this way about anybody. When I realized I was starting to feel this way I didn't know what to do about it. I still don't know what to do what to do about it. My emotions and hormones are everywhere & raging like you won't believe. I don't even know if I would be their type or that I'd be way out of their league. I think everyone has that fear. This makes me feel a tad bit nostalgic with my first love when I was 16 because this was how I exactly felt when I was around him. That spark. You recognize it right away. It's an incredible feeling and I have forgotten what that truly felt like to have for a guy. Would I be willing to try again? maybe. Still there's that risk. The risk of getting hurt all over again. I'd be willing to take that risk. It's been a long time since I've had strong intense feelings for a guy in general. I know. It's honestly sad. I haven't even expressed how I feel to them because I'm scared of rejection. That I wouldn't be good enough. That it would never last between us due to the whole distance thing. I've cried about it so much at night. Somedays I want to scream and just tell them how I feel. In the end there's a slim chance they probably wouldn't have time for a relationship but we all take that chance right? I guess you just never know until you try. I've been pretty emotional this past month about it. It honestly feels like I'm stuck in this large bubble that I can't escape with so many feelings and questions popping in my head all at once, leaving me scratching my head in confusion. Feelings are very hard. Why must they be complicated? why can't we just blurt out how we feel to the person we love so dearly? why do we back out at the last minute? why do we feel insecure? it's human to feel that way. Man do these songs hit me right in the fucking feels because this is exactly how I'm feeling right now in my current situation.

I was debating if I should even post this on here but you wanna know what? sometimes you just have to let those feelings out or it's going to eat you alive the more you hold it in. Whether it be through music or on a platform. Anything can help with that. Writing is a great form of expression and I've learnt that along the way as an aspiring author. So with whatever you're going through write it out. Let the words flow. Trust me it'll help you. I know we don't know each other very well but I want to get to know you. I'm too shy to message you first. I want you to know that you can talk to me about anything. Even if we just talk for a few minutes during the day it makes me so happy to hear from you. Literally. It does. If only you'd let me. I don't think you understand how happy I get when I think about you in general and that I like you for just well being you. I just wanted you to know that.

I'm sorry.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭

❝Fire and ice. You come on like a flame then you turn a cold shoulder. Fire and ice. I want to give you my love but you'll just take a little piece of my heart. You'll just tear it apart.❞ Fire and Ice - Pat Benatar

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭

BTW

I'm leaving social media for awhile. I felt the need to vent and just let my feelings out in someway shape or form. I'll return when I feel up to it. I just need time alone for the sake of my mental health. If anyone needs me I'll most likely be on Quotev. I'll see you all soon.

Peace and love!

-Jillian

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭

Credit goes to their rightful owners for the gifs and videos.

[saradotpsd]

Girl shitpost

I tried a 5 minute guided meditation for the first time today, I do feel somewhat relaxed but I think I need to do more because.

I traveled recently and ever since I came back I've been wondering what the hell this heaviness I'm feeling is, where is that even from like I don't remember being this heavy and tired before traveling. I kept wondering why I can't adapt back into my regular life and schedule while everyone around me seems to do it so easily. I used to be able to do that within a few days, but this time it's been over two weeks and I'm still like this. Tired, exhausted, I don't want to do anything and even when I do, I can't seem to conjure up the power to do it. I barely go out on my regular errands and nothing else, and it takes a full day's power to get myself to walk out my door. I want to do nothing but be tucked into my room until this washes away. I'm depressed but I'm locked into this state even when I'm not.

I realized its because this trip gave me a sense of peace that I haven't experienced before, and now that I'm back, I can't cope with the stress of real life, of thinking about my career and chasing my next client and paycheck, of worrying about my health, of making sure I go out when my friends ask. It was a peaceful trip where I had to worry about nothing, not even myself. I didn't know this feeling of peace before I went so I didn't know that my entire life was aligned in such a disorder until I experienced what it was like for it to be ordered and peaceful. And now that I'm dropped into the stress of it all again, I can't cope. I cannot anymore bear the heaviness of the life I was putting my (already divergent mind) through. What should I do for my career, what is my next move to get the next client, what if I never get to design again, what if designing is all I ever get to do, what if I choose to never design again because it failed me, what if I change my career, what if I start writing, what if I start taking pictures, what if I become a traditional artist, what if I just apply for a regular 9-5 and stop freelancing, what if I never get paid again, what am I going to do about the fact that I've tried all of this and failed, what am I going to do about my health, when was the last time I got a blood test, what if my eye hurts again, what if there's something seriously wrong with my health and what if I'm oblivious about it just like the last 2 times, what if there's something wrong with me, what if my ocd eats me up eventually with all of it's what ifs, what if what if what if. I was tired but tired was my normal.

I realized that this was the source of my current heaviness. No wonder all I've been doing is dreaming about being rescued from my current lifestyle. If only this one thing saves me and I would no longer have to think about all of this, that's what I kept thinking, along with my escapism behaviors that I'm overly familiar with, but didn't need until very recently.

I've been on survival mode long enough to think that it was my normal state, to forget what survival is because it was my status quo.

I really don't have a single idea what I ought to do about all of this information I'm opening myself up to today, but I guess just realizing this for myself is a good first step.

If you’ve made it this far, thank you for reading ❤

My Medium

[landinoandco]

|Shutter speed|

Chapter one : A staring contest with an attractive stranger

{Lando Norris x Reader}

Summary: A photographer. A pair of F1 drivers. Triangles. A sticky situation of morals and fighting fate. What could go wrong?

Warnings: None :)

Rating: Teen and up

Word count: 1.5k

A/n: hey guys, welcome to Shutter Speed!! A love triangle between LN DR and reader (in this story reader is called Georgie.) This is my first f1 fanfiction so any feedback/suggestions are very welcome or if you just want to add comments, reactions - anything goes!! Thank you for reading and enjoy :)

Chapter one: A staring contest with an attractive stranger ...

It was raining in London. Not that that was out of the ordinary - even in the beginning days of July. Today the weather had decided to imitate that of mid-March, the rain crashing down like the heavens had opened up above and the wind cheekily chasing tourists and commuters indoors then proceeding to race eagerly through the streets, nipping at any ankles of those who were lagging behind the rest.

Lando Norris was out with his trainer when the rain started, enjoying the freedom of a 2 week break before the highly anticipated British Grand Prix. They rushed down the alleyway they had found themselves on; until they came across a little coffee shop tucked away in the corner - 'The Little London Stop.' Jon nodded to confirm to Lando that this would be just fine - as he opened the door, a small bell rang just above his head and instantly they were hit by a comforting warmth and the smell of freshly made coffee.

He quickly slid onto one of the benches, facing out onto the shop. It was typically London, designed with someone's Instagram feed in mind, plants hung precariously from the rafters along with many singular light bulbs that casted at atmospheric glow around the room.

Opposite him, on the other side of the room sat the only other person in the shop, she sat with her back to them. Her messy mousy brown hair tumbled in waves down her back, her gaze on the rain rushing down the alleyway - her chin resting on the heel of her hand.

Georgie had been sitting in that exact spot for longer than she would care to admit. Escaping the pestering grasp of her best friend and roommate Maisie; they were both photographers - partners in an online business they set up when they first left college as they prepared to take on the world. Pre-covid it had flourished and the pair had been travelling up and down the country, from events like weddings to festivals. Post-covid however - this was where their problems had started and why Georgie was currently hiding in a coffee shop. Work had become as dry as her love life, events had been cancelled for another year and wedding guest numbers had been limited. For weeks they had been sending their portfolios to any event organiser they could find and for weeks they kept being turned away.

She tore her eyes from the flooding streets and back to her open laptop - she was completely stuck, where to even start? Georgie nibbled on the on her bottom lip and sighed before rubbing her hands over her face - she was really looking for a miracle to happen.

Lando was completely intrigued by the girl. It wasn't until Jon snapped his fingers in front of Lando's face that he realised he had been staring.

"Right, sorry." Lando mumbled, a red flush creeping up his neck and he moved his gaze to the wooden table, wringing his fingers together. "What were you saying?"

Jon chuckled at his young boy antics and shook his head, "I wasn't, you were staring and it was weird. I picked you up this green smoothie - lots of vitamins and-" But Lando had switched off again, he couldn't help himself as his eyes locked back onto where they had been before. It was like something was drawing him to her - hell, he didn't even know what she looked like.

"Are you going to go and speak to her?" Jon's voice broke his trance yet again.

"Wha-what?" Lando looked up at his trainer, his innocent eyes widening at the thought. "I-I-"

Jon scoffed and rolled his eyes, "You are such a teenager."

"I'm not a teenager." Lando hit back, "I'm 21. I can drink in the US now, you know."

"Then start acting like it." Jon scolded but the corners of his mouth quirked up, he had known Lando for years and he had not changed once. A hopeless romantic at heart but acted like a deer caught in the headlights as soon as anyone of the opposite gender even glanced his way. Any girl would be lucky to have him but unfortunately for Lando he always found himself drawn to the type that would take his heart whole and would leave, shattering it into millions of pieces for Jon to find and piece back together again. It was through no fault of the girls in question, they would make their intentions very clear but Lando - being who he was - would always jump head first without looking ahead or the consequences of his actions.

On the plus side, Lando came back stronger each time but it left him with an even stronger longing for that care and affection that everyone around him seemed to have.

His heart raced as he looked over at Jon, a determined look was set on his face. "Fine. I'll do it." He stood up, legs wobbling slightly as the adrenaline flooded through his veins - he had cleared the table when reality decided to walk through the door. He turned on his heels and sat back down. "Nope. Maybe another day." His voice wavered slightly.

Jon looked at him with sympathy and slight second hand embarrassment - not that Lando needed to know that.

Georgie looked over her shoulder at the commotion happening behind her - there were two young men sitting across the room from her. One was clearly older than the other and was looking at him in utter bemusement - she followed his gaze...

Georgie inhaled sharply, she was met by a pair of crystal blue eyes - of which lit up when he realised that she had looked over. Georgie simply didn't know what to do with herself as she seemed to be stuck in a staring contest with an incredibly attractive stranger. She managed to tear her eyes away to look at him properly; a mop of dark brown curls sat dripping onto the table (still wet from the torrential downpour), an olive complexion and an innocent sparkle in his crystal blue eyes. She offered him a shy smile, a rose tinge coating her cheeks. He gave her a lopsided grin in response.

There was an overwhelming feeling that drew Georgie to this stranger, it wasnt anything she had experienced before - not even when she had been with him.

A cold chilling suddenly rushed down her spine, almost like she had been standing in the rain falling outside. A pang of guilt filled her stomach, she dropped her gaze and bit her lip. How could she ever think of him like that, compare him to a stranger she didnt even know the name of.

A ring broke her train of thought, her phone lit up with Maisie's name. She inhaled slowly to ground her feelings before answering, trying to sound as normal as possible.

"Hey Maise -"

"I've done it." She heard Maisie shout down the phone, followed by a relieved laugh.

"Done what, sorry." Georgie prompted, rubbing her eyes. She could feel the boys' eyes on her, resisting the urge to turn around; she closed the lid of her laptop and placed it in her bag.

"I've only gone and gotten us an event to go to this weekend." Maisie replied as casually as she could muster. Georgie paused. A large grin that would challenge the Cheshire cats'.

"Where and how?" Georgie felt a weight lift from her shoulders, it didn't matter what Maisie had signed them up for, it was a start. A fresh start.

"Look, I have a call with them any minute so I'll have to explain when you get back. It's at the Goodwood festival of speed." Maisie paused.

"Goodwood Festival of speed." Georgie echoed - she could hear ringing in the background.

"Got to go, final things to sort out. I'll see you later." With that she hung up, leaving a delighted Georgie frozen in place, until she found her senses and packed up as fast as she could. All thoughts of the boy across the room - gone.

He sat, puzzled, as he watched her rush out the door and into the rain - calling out a muffled 'thank you' as the door swung shut behind her. His brows drew together as he looked into his lap, before saying quietly to Jon: "It was the Goodwood Festival of Speed she just said, didn't she?"

"Yes." Jon answered shortly, looking down at him in fascination.

"Isn't that where I am this weekend?" Lando looked up, hope swelled in his chest.

"Yes, it is."

Lando looked longingly out of the window, beaming. He knew it was silly to get so hopeful - there were going to be thousands upon thousands swarming around Goodwood. He stood up and turned to Jon - "Lets go."

"But you haven't drank your smoothie -"

Lando was already at the door, bouncing on the balls of his feet. Jon grabbed the smoothie and tittered, following after him.

You only live once, Lando thought. As it turns out he would get another chance this Saturday and this time he wasn't blowing it.

Chapter two: A new beginning

[maletfsstories]

The International ("Soju 🇰🇷")

Requested By linxiaopei

"Newcastle"

-"You are here" Said Matt’s boss in a drunken tone as Matt walked towards the table his boss and some coworkers were seated in.

-"Jesus Christ how much have you guys drunk already" Said Matt as he sat down and observed a mountain of empty shots and beer mugs.

 

-"Not enough and you haven’t had any yet" One of Matt’s coworkers said as he continued drinking from his mug.

-"If you guys forgot I'm the one driving all of you home so I can't drink" Said Matt rather tired as he wanted to be at home instead of in a bar filled with drunk and obnoxious people.

-"Just buy yourself one and bring us another round of beers" Said Matt's boss as he passed him a coupon for a free drink.

 

Matt begrudgingly got up from his seat and walked towards a small area where a female bartender was passing a few drinks to a waiter.

-"Hello Sir how may I help you?" Asked the bartender as she pushed a menu in front of Matt.

Matt turned around and counted the number of people that were seated around his boss.

 

-"Could you give me four pints of beer please?" Said Matt as he looked back towards the bartender.

-"Sure" Said the bartender as she rapidly started to fill four large glass mugs with beer.

-"You seem a little stressed sir, are you alright?" Said the bartender once she noticed Matt's blatantly obvious impatient demeanor.

 

-"Sorry, the thing is that I shouldn't be here at all" Said Matt with a little bit of anger in his voice.

-"Same here, today is my first day on the job and I already want to call it quits" Said the bartender as she placed the first mug of beer in front of Matt.

-"Why haven't you?" Asked Matt

-“Even though I don't like large crowds and this bar is the worst I at least get more than the minimum wage” Said the bartender as she placed the second mug of beer in front of Matt.

 

-"So are you going to continue working here for the rest of your life?" Asked Matt

-"Not at all, I'm working here to pay for my studies, unlike the rest of my family I prefer to work for my stuff” said the bartender as she placed the third mug of beer in front of Matt.

-"Your family is rich?" asked Matt with little intrigue in his voice.

 

-"Yup, they are a bunch of snobbish idiots, my father doesn't work because he inherited a lot of money from our estate and my brother is an influencer who wins a lot of money by posting revealing images of his gym routines on his Instagram" Said the bartender as she stopped filling the last mug of beer and turned back to face Matt directly.

-“Wow, I can't imagine you see your family very often" Said Matt

-“No I don’t, my father lives in our family estate which I don’t normally visit and my brother is currently traveling around the world with his group of roided meatheads”. Said the bartender as she rolled her eyes.

 

-"It must be a fun life, kind of wish mine was like that" Said Matt with a little bit of melancholy in his voice

-"It does seem desirable but I frankly believe in working hard for one’s stuff" Said the bartender with a smile on her face.

-"What are you studying?" Asked Matt as he made himself comfortable in a small seat placed in front of the bartender's workstation.

 

-'' I'm studying accounting at Newcastle University" Said the bartender.

-"Well I'm an accountant ..." Said Matt with a small amount of surprise in his voice.

-"Really? How is the job? I mean I love the classes I'm seeing but I don't know anything about how to apply them in a real-life scenario" Said the bartender with a glee in her eyes.

 

-"Well I've been an accountant for the last five years and believe me when I say that the scenarios in class are way easier than the ones I've experienced in the job, it's hard and complicated but I still kind of like what I do" Said Matt in an attempt to reassure the bartender's career choice.

-"Why are you taking so much!"

Matt turned around and saw his drunk boss moving slowly towards him.

 

-"Sorry I was just speaking to the bartender," Said Matt as his boss leaned on the bar, meanwhile the bartender immediately completed filling the last mug of beer and placed it in front of Matt.

Matt's boss looked at the four beers and immediately frowned -"Where the hell is yours?" He asked.

-"Sir I can't drink I'm driving you and everyone else home" said Matt in an attempt to stop his boss's insistence.

-"Nonsense, just drink a small bit, that's all I'm asking from you" Matt's boss said as he moved closer towards him.

Matt momentarily looked at the bartender as she grabbed the smallest glass size possible, while she was doing that Matt looked at the menu that had been placed earlier in front of him.

In the meantime, Matt's boss rapidly drank his beer and walked away toward his table with the other three that were left.

-"Is this good?" Asked the Bartender as she showed Matt the small glass, Matt immediately looked up and nodded.

-"Do you have something that is similar to vodka but isn't that powerful?" Asked Matt as his boss approached him again.

-"Well, we do have Soju, it's from South Korea and it's in a way an exact match to Vodka, the only difference is that it's mildly less alcoholic, will that do?" Asked the bartender.

-"Please give me one in the small glass you showed me earlier" Said Matt as his boss was now standing next to him.

-"What did you order?" Asked Matt's boss.

-"I ordered some vodka" Lied Matt.

-"Wow Matt, I thought you didn't want to get drunk tonight" Said Matt's boss as he laughed like a clown.

In the meantime, the Bartender had poured Matt's drink from a small green bottle with Korean lettering onto a small transparent glass.

-"I hope you enjoy it sir" Said the Bartender as she placed the drink in front of Matt.

-"Here goes nothing" Though Matt as he swallowed every drop of Soju in an instant, because of this he immediately felt a burning sensation in his throat, luckily it wasn't as bad as the one produced by drinking vodka.

Matt then gave the empty glass to the Bartender and looked at his boss. -"Are you happy now?" Asked Matt with a little sarcasm in his voice.

-"Where is the fun in only one?" Asked Matt's boss.

-"You can't be serious, do you want me to get arrested" Said Matt in a raised tone of voice as he was tired of being pushed around by his middle age child of a boss.

-"Don't you dare to speak to me that way, I'm your boss, if you don't drink another shot I'll fucking fire you" Said Matt's boss in an aggressive tone.

Matt momentarily looked at the bartender who had a sad expression on her face while still having the green bottle of soju between her hands.

-"Another one please," said Matt as he finally relented to his boss's order.

The bartender immediately grabbed the empty glass and filled it with the crystalline liquid -"Here you are sir" said the bartender as she passed the drink to Matt.

As Matt grabbed the glass and drank its contents he wished he could end it all, to have a new life where he didn't have a boss or any type of responsibilities.

Once Matt placed the empty glass in front of him the bar where he was in seemed to disappear and was rapidly replaced by the interior of a luxury hotel room.

-"What the hell" Said Matt in a worried tone as he was about to get up from the bed he had suddenly materialized in, before Matt could completely get out of the bed a strange pain made his stop.

This pain was due to Matt's five feet nine stature increasing to six feet three, while that was happening Matt's slim build changed into a more muscular one. His flat chest developed a pair of juicy and muscled pecs, down below in Matt's stomach a few small tires of fat were rapidly removed out of existed which left him with a flat surface that was rapidly replaced by the growth of a six-pack.

Meanwhile, in Matt's skinny arms his biceps, triceps, and forearms grew as new muscle mass filled them, a few veins also appeared here and there, as that was happening Matt's back also became incredibly shredded.

While all the changes to Matt's upper body were occurring all the healthy patches of hair that covered the majority of his body disappeared leaving him completely waxed.

As the majority of Matt's upper body had gone through a certain amount of changes the next area to change was his lower body.

At first in Matt's pelvic area his equipment grew larger and larger. This made him immediately aroused as a moan escaped from his mouth, this moan however was very masculine and in a way, it sounded like that of a huge beast.

When Matt's dick reached the ten-inch mark his ass became the next target of the changes, it grew until what was left was a perfect round and bouncy bubble, then Matt's thighs and calves grew larger leaving him with a pair of powerful legs.

Because of the new growth in muscles around Matt's body, his clothes became extremely strained, as Matt suddenly moved his clothes finally gave in, they broke into small pieces which immediately disappeared, the larger pieces which were still attached to his body also disappeared leaving him completely naked.

A few seconds after Matt's clothes had disappeared a pair of black underwear and black swimming shorts now covered his private area while still leaving his upper body completely exposed.

-"Shit" Said Matt out loud as he noticed his new body and the weird clothing that had replaced his shirt and dress pants.

While Matt continued looking he felt a weird sensation as his face lots its Caucasian features which were replaced by more Eastern Asian ones

Matt's lips inflated only a small bit, his nose became fair and straight, his eyes became slightly slanted and his pupils became dark in coloration, the last thing to change was Matt's hair, it became coal black and his previously office neutral haircut was replaced by a more trendy one.

With the changes now complete Matt got up from the bed he was laying in and grabbed an ultra-modern Samsung phone that was placed on a sleeping table next to the bed.

Matt unlocked the phone with his new face and immediately opened the camera, he was obviously shocked and amazed at the beautiful young Asian face that was looking back at him.

-"너무 이상해" (This is so weird) Said Matt in fluent Korean with his new deep voice, the Adonis looking back at him through the camera shared nothing in common with his old nerdy self, the only thing that was the same was the pair of black glasses he was still wearing.

After exploring his new face with the camera for a little more Matt finally decided to look at Instagram for any info about his new self, Matt opened the personal profile which had the name "Gan Sangwook" displayed next to a picture of Matt's new self flexing with a dumb grin plastered on his face.

Matt after looking at the name and picture also noticed that the new him had a following of almost a million people and that his account was verified meaning that he was relatively famous and well known.

Matt then proceeded to scroll down, as he did he saw dozens of images of the new him working out in gyms surrounded by similarly muscled men, there were also some pictures of him in different locations from around the world and a few pictures were modeling and sponsor type posts.

As Matt continued looking at the pictures a new personality and identity became more dominant in his head, during the process of Matt's old life and memories being eliminated the door of his hotel room opened with a loud bang.

With the door now wide open a group of five heavily muscled Korean men entered the room, Matt remembered seeing some of these men in the Instagram profile but now he somehow recognized all of them and felt a deep personal connection with them.

-"이봐, 여기서 뭐해? 늦었 어. 해변에 가야 해" (Hey dude what are you doing here, it's late. We should be on the beach) Said the bigger of them as the others around him cheered with their deep dumb sounding voices.

-"해변 친구들을 위해 준비된 것 외에 제 인스 타 그램을보고 있었어요" (I was looking at my Instagram, other than that I'm ready for the beach dudes) Said Matt as he started flexing his muscles, the men he now recognized as his gym crew also started flexing their muscles.

-"그럼 가자!" (Then let's go!) Said another one of the muscled men as Matt got up from the bed and walked with the men through the large hallways of the most luxurious resort in Jeju Island.

After a short elevator ride, Matt or Gan Sangwook walked with his friends toward the private beach owned by the resort.

-"수영하러 가기 전에 여러분 사진을 제 인스 타 그램에 올려도 될까요?" (Dudes before we go swimming can I post a picture of all of you to my Instagram?) Asked Gan as he and his crew were a few feet away from the sea.

All of the men said yes and Gan got into position, once he took a few hundred pictures he posted the one he thought looked the best with the caption "해변 준비 😎💪🏻" (Ready for the beach)

After Gan took the picture he continued walking toward the sea, as he did the last vestiges of his old identity of a thirty-year-old British accountant were eliminated what was left was in its place was Gan Sangwook, a young and muscled South Korean jock whose only worry in the world was to keep his body in shape and his one million Instagram followers happy.

[s11e17]

popping in to say i'm sorry to hear that and also your writing is so, so good. i get chills every time i read your work. got any excerpts or tidbits you'd like to share? anything you're especially proud of in past or current works?

wahh thank you so much anon! <3 <3

right now i'm kind of pleased over this little bit in the big bang fic - dean can't say "i love you" to cas, so instead, he asks him if he's ever been to the grand canyon.

Cas’s mouth tilts up sleepily, would be a smile if half of it wasn’t squashed against the pillow. He’d say it now, if he could, the thing that Cas deserves to hear, the thing Dean has never told anybody in his adult life.

Instead, he asks, “Have you ever been to the Grand Canyon?”

also i started writing this like 15k pwp (the plot is basically that dean and cas keep having sex in dreams, aka put up your dukes but not as good) but i feel like it'll be ages before i actually finish it so here are the first two scenes (mostly under the cut bc its like 1600 words lmao):

The few times Castiel has been put under by a djinn, he hasn’t felt particularly disturbed by it. Dean flinches when djinn are mentioned. Sam is deeply distressed when the possibility of unreality is discussed. But Castiel is not so committed to this distinction as the Winchesters are.

Yes, undoubtedly, there are things that are real, and things that are, well, unreal. He likes the prefix un-. It implies a sense of reversal; undoing. Something is real, and then made fiction. Fiction, of the Latin fingo: to make. To invent. To create.

Things are, or they are not. If they are not, then they’re nothing — unless they’re something, in which case, they are. So on and so forth. This is to say, a djinn dream must be as real as Dean’s smile: both created and natural at once. Nature, creation, it is. I am that I am. We are.

This must surely be why Castiel is satisfied with being, when it comes to his love for Dean. Isn’t it enough to create? To speak, and to therefore move from nothing to something? From unformed feeling to articulated truth, Castiel has heaved himself down to Earth from out of the sun more times than he can remember. Dean is his lodestone, and Castiel dreams of him often. It is enough.

Sam’s the one to ask him, in the end. Castiel supposes that makes sense. Dean’s always aimed his comfort at Castiel’s shoulders and his stomach, offering back pats and warm meals, as if even his hands can’t meet Castiel’s gaze.

Sam invites Castiel out to the roof of the bunker to look at the sunset, while Dean is out buying supplies for his tune-ups from the 24 hour mechanic shop he likes to visit when the usual customers aren’t around. Castiel knows this because Dean once told him, once said that he liked to go when the guys were just “shootin’ the shit,” so to speak, liked to roll up with Baby and have them look her over and tell him he’s done a good job. Castiel knows he likes the camaraderie of it, likes having men touch his shoulders and slap his ass the way men do, the way Castiel does not.

So Castiel and Sam are on the roof. “It’s beautiful,” Castiel says.

“It’s real,” Sam says, as if in reply.

“Yes,” Castiel agrees. “It’s that, too.”

Sam sighs. His cheek twitches, and he looks at Castiel. His body is so big— that’s what Castiel thinks, whenever he looks at Sam Winchester. So much goodness, in that broad and wiry body— how could anyone beat him down? Castiel’s heart clenches with love for his brother, because that’s what Sam is to him. “You know— you know this is real, right?” Sam asks. “You know it’s not— you’re not— you’re not in the djinn— in the dream anymore.”

“I know.” Perhaps it’s some angelic power, which makes Castiel so certain of his place. “I know where I am.”

“Good. That’s good.” Sam sits back in his chair, then. “Do you— do you wanna talk about what you saw?”

It’s kind of Sam to phrase it that way. Dean would’ve asked him directly. He would’ve said, What did you see? And Castiel would’ve had to tell him.

Maybe that’s why he didn’t ask. In any case, Castiel says, “I’m happy to tell you if you’re curious.”

Sam huffs out a laugh. “Damn,” he says, “you’re well-adjusted.”

Castiel smiles, too. “I don’t have much to hide from you, Sam,” he says. And he thinks of Dean, who surely must know— who must feel the weight of Castiel’s desire every day. Dean sees how careful Castiel is. He sees Castiel’s hesitance to touch him, sees Castiel’s eyes shining when Dean makes dinner for him, and knows the depth of Castiel’s feeling. The depth of Castiel’s feeling drives Dean to the 24 hour mechanic shop whose men can give Dean what Castiel can’t.

But Dean comes home to Castiel, too.

“Okay,” Sam says, “sure. If you’re really okay with it, then yeah, I’d— I’d love to know what an angel dreams about.”

Castiel wonders how to say it. “We had a house,” Castiel starts, “me and Dean.”

It was a small house. Castiel remembers that vividly. It was tall enough to feel comfortable, but with only a single floor. Two bedrooms— their room, and a guest room. Roof access. It was the kind of house where you could bump shoulders with someone in the kitchen easily, the kind of house that built intimacy. Castiel remembers Dean standing in the back door with his coffee, face turned up to the sun, as he did every morning. He was so beautiful. He’d had a smile on his face, an easy and gentle smile. He’d taken a sip of his coffee, and said, glad we started shellin’ out for the good stuff, Cas, because he knew Castiel was behind him. After so long together, Dean could trust that Castiel would always want to watch him in the morning sunlight, freckles coming in across the bridge of his nose. Some days, Castiel would kiss his shoulder, and say, You are who I cherish most in my life. Do you know that? and every time, Dean would say, Yes, sweetheart. I know.

“We were so happy,” Castiel whispers. It’s all he can think to say. He looks at the sunset. Dean will come home in an hour with new parts for the ‘58 in the garage and a spring in his step, and Castiel will say, Welcome home, Dean, and Dean will say, Thanks, man. They will sleep in separate rooms. Dean has no need for the kind of love Castiel dreams of. Dean is already as happy as he will ever be. In his own way, in the way Dean has outlined with his words and his body, Dean has delineated what it is that he wants and what it is he finds unnecessary. Castiel is honored to fit almost entirely into what Dean wants. The only thing he wishes is that he could jettison the remains.

“Did you— did you know you were in a dream?”

“The whole time.”

“And you—” Sam cuts himself off. “Jesus. That’s— wow. Did it, uh… I mean, what did you feel?”

Castiel considers the question. “I think a better way to phrase it is that I knew it… I knew it wasn’t material. That what I was experiencing was a construction. But it’s not… that distinction isn’t meaningful to me, the way it likely is to humans.”

“No shit,” Sam barks, too aggressive to be a laugh. Castiel looks at him. He’s hunched over, knee wiggling. “It’s— it’s important to me to— to— to know what’s real. That means something to me. Being certain about what the truth is.”

“I understand.”

“But I can’t know,” Sam says, and he looks at Castiel. Half-chuckling still, he says, “I think about it every day, but I can’t know. And you do know, but you don’t care. How fucked is that?”

Castiel’s mouth twitches, but he isn’t happy. He knows Sam isn’t either. “I wish I could give you my certainty,” he says, and Sam looks away. “All I can say is that you are real. I see you. I sense you, in all ways.”

Sam nods. He breathes, deeply, and asks, “Do you miss it?”

Castiel doesn’t pretend to misunderstand. Does he miss his house with Dean, the warm sunlight through the bay windows, the way Dean’s hands would slide over Castiel’s thighs in the front of the Impala? “No,” he says, because he thinks also of Dean’s bunker kitchen chili, and his unfettered delight at cowboy movies. “No, I don’t think so. Once — you remember, with God — once Dean asked me what about all this was real.”

“Yeah. I had the same question.”

“I told him we are.”

Sam exhales. “Oh.”

“Maybe that’s why it doesn’t matter to me,” Castiel realizes. “I know that Dean and I are real, that our friendship is— is a truth which has shaped our paths, in all ways. Whether it’s a djinn dream or a material place, I know the truth.”

Sam nods, considers it. Eventually, he asks, “What made you wake up?”

“I tried the moment I first realized,” Castiel says. “And again, a few— what I perceived as a few weeks later. That was when you found me. The first time I was too weak to escape on my own, and the djinn captured me again.”

“Shit, Cas,” Sam breathes. “You— you— you did it twice?”

“I’ve killed more often for less,” Castiel says. “Killing myself was easy.”

Sam doesn’t ask. Perhaps they’ve all tallied each other’s body counts. Castiel wonders if Sam keeps a list of all the people Castiel has killed.

Instead, Sam says, “Well. Here’s a— okay. The distinction between dreams and real life doesn’t matter to you. I get that. My question is, is it right to say that the material world has— that it’s primary, I guess?”

It’s interesting, to attempt to apply dialectical materialism to an angel. But perhaps faithful to God’s original purpose. “You’ve seen Heaven,” Castiel says, working it out as he says it. “It’s nothing but memories. Consciousness. You’ve seen Hell, too.”

“Yeah.”

“The only way to describe these places is through metaphor. A hallway. A cage. Ripping, tearing. I think that tells us that Earth is where true creation happens. No matter what Chuck says or does, you create your own destiny. Here.”

“Shit.” Sam shakes his head. The sun has gone down; now, Sam and Castiel are accompanied by twilight mosquitoes, by stars coming in up above. “We make our own choices, huh.”

“We have to.” That’s perhaps what was wrong with the djinn dream, the reason why Castiel couldn’t stay there. It had nothing to do with whether it was real or not. It was about choice. That Dean in that back doorway of that sunlit house must have had no choice — because this Dean, his Dean, would’ve chosen otherwise.

[dairogo]

WIP Sun-- er, Mon-- umm ... Tuesday

Thanks for tagging me, @nightofnyx8! I can blame one of the days on timezones, but the other is just life keeping me from my laptop.

I’ve mentioned this WIP a few times, and although I’m distracted at the moment by Wayward Youth, I am full of plans to come back to it when WY is done. It does not currently have a name, so I’m just calling it my FMAHP crossover. Not original in concept or anything, but sometimes you have brainworms you can’t drop and the earliest drafts of this one were, uh, in 2005 or 06 when I was first emailing frantically with @novelmonger about it. So maybe I have to write it out to make the brainworms get out.

--

Roy Mustang felt somewhat dazed as he left his meeting with Fuhrer Grumman. Even with the day’s notice he was given by the arrival of Marcoh’s letter, his sudden reassignment was an incredible turn of events. Of course, the letter made it clear that there was more behind Britain’s overture of friendship than a simple desire to strengthen alchemical and magical relationships, but Grumman knew only the surface of it all, and as Amestris opened up to the world around it, his desire for allies on the global stage knew very few bounds.

Still, magic, huh.

And even magic couldn’t draw people away from the allure of the Philosopher’s Stone.

In Fuhrer Bradley’s reign, Roy’s office had been stripped of its most essential personnel, leaving him with clerks and fresh soldiers who were able to sort through files, but were of little real use to him. Now, almost two years after the Promised Day, there was a combination of new and old faces that looked up at him when he returned.

“Marcoh was right,” he said. “We’ll be leaving for Britain by the end of the week.”

“Yes sir.”

“Who’s your team?” Major Miles asked, wearing a glare that clearly promised hell if he was chosen.

“You’ll stay here, Miles,” Roy assured him. “You and Blakely will keep the Ishval Restoration Project running while we’re gone.”

Master Sergeant Blakely would cope with the pressure. She’d managed very well with the mounting paperwork through the original set up for the whole project, and it would be more of the same for her while Miles was left to make the decisions.

“The rest of you will need to start packing.”

There was a chorus of acknowledgement from the remaining three, Hawkeye, Breda and Feury, who had been with him as the world turned inside-out. Havoc was still working towards his clearance for duty, heavily engaged in physical therapy in hopes that his legs might make it back to their full capacity. Falman had well and truly settled in the North. The three who were left were the core of his office as he worked to rebuild both Ishval and his own upward momentum.

They were fewer than they used to be, but they were his, and they had experienced the turmoil around Philosopher’s Stones before. Just because the Stone was being made in another country didn’t mean that Amestris would escape the consequences. After all, if someone made it, someone was sure to use it.

--

Edit: I'M MEANT TO TAG PEOPLE. I'M SO BAD AT TUMBLR YOU GUYS @novelmonger @tsaritsa @musing-and-music

[vilevampire]

“Isn’t it Love?” (One Shot)

Thank you @ducksoup17 for helping me beta read this :) Rating: General audiences Trigger Warnings: Panic attacks Pairing: Louie Duck x B.O.Y.D Summary: Boyd thinks he might be in love. 1.805 words Ao3 Link

"Dr. Dad?"

Gyro stopped writing in his notebook.

Right now, there were only him and Boyd in the lab.

He dropped his pen to focus his full attention on his son.

"Yes, 2B— I mean… Boyd?"

"What is love like?"

Gyro blinked his eyes.

"Pardon?"

"What does romantic attraction feel like?"

"Boyd, who taught you those words?"

"The internet." Boyd chirped happily.

Gyro scratched his head with a grunt.

"Those are not things for you to worry about. Why would you even want to know this?" He reached out to his coffee mug and took a sip.

"It's because I think that I might be in love, Dr. Dad." Boyd explained a little awkwardly.

Gyro suddenly spat his coffee in a coughing fit.

Startled, Boyd reached out to pat his father's back lightly.

When Gyro could finally stop coughing, he screeched:

"IN LOVE?! With who? How? Since when?!"

Boyd put his hands on his back while looking bashfully at the floor.

"I don't know. It started somewhat recently." Gyro couldn't help but notice that Boyd had avoided his first question. The more his son talked, the more color drained away from his face. "I've been experiencing confusing feelings when talking to and thinking about a specific person. I searched for answers online and the results said that I might be in love."

Gyro massaged his temples with a groan.

Boyd, being the smart kid he is, immediately noticed his father's unrest. Carefully, he approached Gyro and spoke up:

"Dr. Dad?" He hesitated. "Am I… bad for feeling this way?"

Gyro looked down at his child.

Boyd had already grown far beyond a simple robot ages ago. He had surpassed all of Gyro's expectations and, to this day, he was still his greatest creation.

Boyd deserved much better than a grumpy dad.

Alas, Gyro really wasn't cut out for this whole father and son thing.

With a sigh, Gyro pulled Boyd into a hug, which was quickly reciprocated.

"You're not bad for having feelings, Boyd. I was just surprised, that's all." He pushed his son away gently. "However, I don't think I'm the right person to explain more about this subject to you."

Boyd looked at his father with a frown. His Dr. Dad was the smartest person he knew. He always had the solutions for everything.

If he couldn't give him the answer to his dilemma, who else could?

—————

Boyd knocked on the elegant wooden door.

"Doofus?"

…

No response.

He knocked again. This time, he heard a grumble come from inside. Boyd turned the doorknob and pushed it open.

"What do you want, you lousy piece of machinery?" Doofus pierced him with his eyes. He was currently in the middle of… something.

His head was dripping wet and a bucket full of water could be seen in his hands.

Fortunately, Boyd had already learned long ago not to question his older brother's strange pastime activities.

"Brother, what is love like?"

Doofus stopped whatever the hell he was doing to look up at Boyd.

"And why would you like to know that, hmm?"

The corners of Boyd's mouth twitched. A warm blush spread across his cheeks while he fidgeted with his thumbs.

Of course, Doofus noticed all of this.

"Ho-hooo." He eyed Boyd curiously. "Well, what do we have here? It would seem my little brother has been fiddling around?"

Boyd quietly tapped his feet on the floor. Maybe Doofus wasn't the right person to ask about this after all.

"Well, you're in luck. You've come to the right person."

Boyd looked up at him.

"I did?"

"Yes." Doofus got up from his chair to pace around his room, gesturing wildly at his brother. "You see, Boyd, love is like sweet, sticky honey, and the self-sacrificing bees that make it. It's the rush of fresh air you feel after getting locked inside a room for two weeks, it's that moment when you realize chickens can't fly despite having wings."

Boyd furrowed his brows while listening to Doofus' rant.

"I don't think I get it."

Doofus smirked weirdly at him. He patted his brother's shoulder reassuringly.

"Someday you will, brother. Someday you will."

...As it turns out, Doofus wasn't the right person to ask about this after all.

—————

"Huey, can I ask you something?"

Huey looked up from his Junior Woodchuck Guidebook to gaze at Boyd. The two of them were hanging out in the triplet's bedroom while Huey's brothers weren't around.

"Of course. What's up?"

"What is love like?"

Huey seemed unprepared for this question.

"Why do you want to know something like that?"

"...Why does everybody ask me that? Can't you please just tell me?" Boyd pouted while blushing a little.

Boyd was an incredibly easy person to read. Anyone with half a pair of eyes could discern the boy's emotions just from taking one look at his face.

Combine that with the fact that he was Huey's best friend, of course Huey would quickly realize what was probably going on.

"Boyd, could it be... you have a crush on someone?" Huey smiled gently at his friend. "That's adorable. Who is it? Can you tell me?" He poked Boyd teasingly.

Boyd pondered over this.

Huey was his best friend in the whole world.

Maybe it would be okay if he told him?

Boyd shifted around nervously, the soft blush on his cheeks becoming increasingly stronger.

"...ouie..."

"Hm?"

"...I think—" Boyd took a deep breath. "I think I like... Louie..."

Huey suddenly closed his book with a heavy-sounding thud.

He opened his mouth to speak, closed it, and then opened it again:

"You have a crush on Louie? My brother Louie?!"

Boyd nodded shyly.

Huey became speechless. The gears started turning in his head.

Should he tell Boyd how Louie felt about him?

No, no, Louie himself had to be the one to do it.

"Have you considered confessing to him?"

Boyd fiddled with his thumbs as he spoke:

"I have, but... I'm not sure. What if—" He hesitated. "What if he doesn't feel the same way about me?"

Slowly, Boyd's eyes widened and his pupils constricted, tears threatening to escape.

"Huey— Huey, what if he doesn't like me back? What if he doesn't like robots?" Boyd's breath became erratic as he began twisting and pulling on Huey's bedsheets. "What if he actually hates me? Wha-"

"Hey! Boyd, calm down, please." Huey held onto his friend's face forcefully but gently. "It's okay. Look at me. I'm here. Please focus on your breathing. You'll get through this, okay?"

Boyd stared into Huey's eyes without blinking, a single tear quietly running down his cheek. He closed his eyes abruptly and sniffed.

Huey pulled him into a hug.

"It's okay." 

"I'm here for you."

"You're not a bother."

"You're a real person."

"None of us hate you."

"You're more than just a robot."

He spent many minutes saying comforting words to his friend until Boyd's silent cries eventually calmed down.

This wasn't the first time they had done this.

"Boyd, listen to me," Huey spoke kindly but firmly, still holding his friend in his arms. "Nobody hates you, okay? Especially not Louie. He's your friend."

He could feel Boyd give a weak nod under his grasp, so he kept going:

"And you're my best friend, alright? I could never hate you. You're an amazing person who's going through a lot right now." He paused. "You should consider opening up to Louie about how you feel."

Boyd held tightly onto the back of Huey's clothes.

"Are you sure? Do you think it's a good idea?"

"Yes. Your heart will feel much lighter after you tell him the truth, trust me."

"...Okay. I will try."

—————

"So, did you have something you wanna tell me?" Louie crossed his legs.

He looked the same as always: hands in his pockets, nonchalant, peaceful and easy-going, yet also cunning and sharp... everything Boyd ever aspired to be.

Boyd gulped apprehensively.

"Louie, do you hate me?" He blurted out before getting straight to the point.

It was a good start.

Louie stared at him in surprise.

"What? No? Do I act like I hate you?"

Boyd bit down on his beak nervously.

"No... I just..." He looked away, his voice trailing off.

Louie decided to pick it up from there.

"Dude, you're like, one of the coolest people I know."

Boyd looked over at him again.

"And I love hanging out with you. Sometimes it feels like you're one of the only people who really get me."

"Really?" Boyd choked out. "I'm… glad you feel that way."

"Of course." Louie nodded. "I like you very much, dude. You're my friend."

Boyd's heart started racing as he struggled to get his words out.

"Actually-" He paused, opening up his beak to speak, but finding himself unable to do so.

Boyd's selective mutism was a recurring issue.

It had gotten slightly better over time, but there were still many moments where he would be too anxious to say anything out loud. 

Louie was already used to this, so he patiently waited for his friend to find his voice.

However, as more seconds stretched out, the more it seemed like he couldn't. Boyd was unable to get the words out of his throat. He stood completely frozen, except for his trembling beak, silently telling the words-

"—I love you?"

Louie's face flushed red.

He read Boyd's lips and accidentally let the words slip out of his mouth.

"That's what you were trying to say, right?" He tried playing it smooth, but it was clear that he was getting flustered.

After seeing the usually silver-tongued, smug, and overly confident Louie Duck crumble into a flushing mess, Boyd finally gathered enough courage to speak up:

"I love you."

Louie closed his mouth to focus all of his attention on the robot in front of him.

"I'm not sure since when, but... I think this is what I'm feeling" His voice grew increasingly steady the more he spoke. "I'm in love with you, Louie. You're amazing in every sense of the word. You're smart, funny, observant, assertive, loyal, trustworthy, level-headed, you're pretty, you always know what to say, you're compassionate, you pick up on the little details, you understand me, you make me feel better, you're so amazing..."

Boyd stopped for a moment, trying to pry for Louie's reaction.

"Louie?"

The duck's face was completely covered by his hoodie, with his hands covering his eyes.

But even then, Boyd could still tell with the help of his heat sensors that Louie's face was definitely blushing wildly.

"Louie? Are you—"

"BATHROOM BREAK!" He suddenly exclaimed, running away as fast as he possibly could.

"...Huh."

Boyd was very confused.

He was very, very confused, but…

Huey was right about one thing at least.

His chest didn't feel as tight anymore.

[kiarasukulele]

Hate That I Love You (r.c.)

Summary: Where your drug, alcohol, and sex fuelled relationship has turned you into a cold and detached person. Both running from things in your lives, you and Rafe Cameron lose yourselves each night in each other and any substances you can get your hands on. 

(not my gif, if it’s yours let me know so I can credit)

requested: no

warnings: drug use & dependency, sexual content, swearing, drunk driving, toxic/violent relationship, ANGST ANGST ANGST (I'm sorry if I missed anything)

word count: 3.4k (issa long one oops)

(A/N): omg hi, it’s finally done. This is the first piece of writing I'm posting on here so I’m extremely rusty so I apologize in advance for any mistakes. Also, I am in no way trying to romanticize toxic or abusive relationships!! If you are experiencing something like this or have in the past, it is not love and you all deserve the world♡. Also thank you to @adoreyoudrews​ for just being supportive since the beginning and throughout this whole process (ilysm). Enjoy!!

He could be crazy, but some would argue that you were crazier. You’ve always been an impulsive person — but you both brought out the worst in eachother. You used to spend your days with the pogues who you called your best friends, but as you grew closer to Rafe he slowly put the idea in your head that you were better off without them. You would do anything Rafe asked you to, which might scare you to death. But your drug and alcohol-fueled relationship didn’t leave room for you to feel scared.

You squeezed your way through the crowd of intoxicated teens that were currently surrounding a game of beer pong in the kitchen of Kelce’s house. As you brushed past some of the familiar faces you would whisper, “Rafe is in the pool house, come if you have cash.”

You and Rafe became a team over the course of your relationship. The king and queen of the kooks. It was summer, and you had been doing what you wanted, whenever you wanted with your boyfriend. Days usually consisted of hanging out at the country club, golfing, or boating but they always ended with you and Rafe getting high or drunk together. The only time you ever felt bad was when you stopped the cycle, so eventually you just decided you wouldn’t stop. You were constantly around him, which your old friends would call “unhealthy” — which is exactly why they’re now old friends. All you needed was Rafe.

Once you spread the word to enough people about Rafe’s new supply of the “finest coke in the obx”, you made your way back to the pool house excited to try it yourself. As you were exiting the house, you passed a few acquaintances who would greet you with a smile and offer you a shot, which you happily accepted. The day someone sees (Y/N) (Y/L/N) refuse a drink will be the same day hell freezes over.

Opening the French doors of the pool house, you see a small group surrounding your boyfriend. Laughter and twenty dollar bills were being exchanged. You stood there for a minute to admire him. Cracking jokes and telling stories with these people before they would take a bump or in between them. When he wanted to be, he could be the most charismatic and magnetic person in the room, but it often flipped like a switch. The way that he could captivate an entire room of people whenever he wanted with seemingly no effort always left you astonished.

Sure, you guys fought like you hated each other sometimes but when you loved each other... holy shit you loved each other. And there was no inbetween with you and Rafe — your relationship was either scalding hot or freezing cold, it was never lukewarm.  

You strut towards Rafe with a devilish smirk. You eagerly pushed past every person standing between you and your boyfriend. He makes eye contact with you and his face lights up immediately. This is the atmosphere both of you have been happiest in lately. You were both running from things in your home lives that each of you knew better than to bring up to one another. As long as you and Rafe were running in the same direction, you didn’t care how tiring it would often feel.

He eyes you up and down as you approach him. You’ve discarded your shirt since the last time you saw him that night, your black bikini still damp from the pool.

“Get over here, baby” he mutters, firmly grabbing your wrist and pulling you onto his lap. The surrounding conversations continue as you make yourself comfortable on top of Rafe. He leans around you, gathering the white powdery substance into neat lines while you roll up a loose twenty dollar bill. When it comes to this, it’s like a ritual. The two of you move like it’s a dance you’ve rehearsed every night for the last few months — you leaning over, him holding your hair back, your nose brushing up against the cold surface of the table as the drugs enter your system. You lean back into your boyfriend as the euphoric sensation takes over. He eagerly begins to lean forward, to finish off the lines you left behind.

“No,” you mutter, grabbing a hold of his bicep to pull him back. He looks at you with furrowed brows, confusion written all over his face.

“What the fuck do you mean, no?” he spits. As mentioned, Rafe could flip like a switch at any moment. The bruises that would often litter your frail figure could attest to that, but you forgave him every time.

“I mean…” you trail off as you twist your body so your back lays flat on his lap. His demeanor calms immediately, as he catches on to what you’re asking him. He gathers the coke and lays it between your cleavage. As the drugs disappear from your chest, he kisses the surrounding area. If you were sober, you would maybe feel slightly embarrassed as the two of you had gathered somewhat of an audience. But sober you were far from. In this moment there wasn’t a trace of the guilt, anger, and sadness that would often plague your sober thoughts. You’ve convinced yourself it’s easier this way; and you really believed that you loved this boy.

❁❁❁❁❁❁

Rafe was recklessly driving back towards his house with you in the passenger seat, head out the window and giggling uncontrollably.

“Get back in here.” he slurred, pawing at your skirt to try and get you to sit still in your seat.

You began to laugh even harder at his attempt to reel you in. Your whole upper body was leaning into the cool summer breeze passing you by.

“I’m not fucking kidding.” Rafe said firmly, losing his patience. Your laughter softened as you sighed, “Fine.”

Sitting in your seat you began to get bored after only a minute. Over the past few months you have grown to need constant excitement in your life. Things always needed to be fast paced and you craved the adrenaline that accompanied your reckless behaviour while under the influence.

You stared at Rafe for a moment. His eyes were hazy; hand switching back and forth from your thigh to a bottle of beer he’d been drinking as he sloppily navigated the streets approaching tannyhill. Your own eyes widened with the idea that suddenly came over you. Lifting Rafe’s hand that was resting on your thigh, you raise it to your mouth.

He glances over to you, a smirk spreading across his face. His index finger finds its way into your mouth and you begin to gently suck. His eyes are hungry as they flash between you and the road in front of him.

“You’re so hot, (Y/N).” he practically moans, a bulge appearing in his shorts. Roughly, he grabs hold of the back of your neck and pushes you down towards his crotch. Leaning over the centre console, you take him into your mouth.

If the drugs weren’t fueling your relationship — it was the sex. Taking place anywhere and everywhere — his father's boat, the office, the beach, or simply in between his french-imported sheets. It was while he was inside you that he unleashed much of his aggression and rage, especially if you had just been fighting. It might bother you, if it didn’t feel so damn good. You didn’t mind that he could be rough, violent, or cold towards you. You were all of those things too.

Between the drug haze, intoxication, and the feeling of your mouth around him his driving was becoming more and more reckless as he pulled into the long and swerving driveway of his house. He closed his eyes for a moment, basking in the feeling of pure bliss. As his eyes were shut, the car began to swerve. You jolted forward as you came to an abrupt stop.

“Shit, shit, shit.” Rafe muttered in a panicked tone, zipping up his shorts and roughly shoving you off of him as he exited the car. He had collided with the marble statue that resided at the edge of the Cameron’s driveway. Wiping the edge of your mouth, you exit from the passenger door to assess the damage.

You couldn’t help the laughter from escaping your lips as you looked upon the statue that was broken into pieces before you. Rafe was anxiously pacing, shaky hands running through his hair.

“What the fuck is funny, (Y/N)? My dad is gonna lose his shit!” he spat at you, still not able to keep your laughter under control. You couldn’t help it, you always found that statue of a naked man hideous and borderline creepy. Through the laughter you uttered, “Holy shit, it’s dick broke off.”

Rafe was getting angrier with you by the second. You picked up the cracked and detached marble phallus and started making obscene gestures with it, which Rafe didn’t happen to find as entertaining as you did. “What? Are you jealous, baby? I’ll save some for you don’t wor—” before you could finish your sentence, Rafe’s hand swung to knock the piece of marble from your grasp as he grabbed a hold of your jaw to keep you from talking. “Shut the fuck up.” he angrily slurred.

You pushed him back with all of the force you could muster. “Don’t you fucking touch me.” you spat. He took a few steps back due to the abrupt force of your shove. As much as he could push you around, you rarely sat there and took his shit without fighting back although you were no match to his 6’2 frame.

“You know what…” he trailed off. Rafe was looking between you and the shattered pieces of the statue that Rose had treasured. “Go the fuck home.”

His statement, the way he was looking at you with utter disgust, and the throbbing pain from where his hand had been gripping your jaw was enough to cause tears to form in your eyes. “What do you mean, go home?” you asked softly. Rafe had strayed from the usual pattern of events that would take place. Usually, you would have it out and scream at each other like maniacs for a good amount of time, before you each would break down and lose the argument somewhere between the sheets. Home was the last place you wanted to be right now. The place that should be associated with warmth and love could not be said about your large blue house with the wrap-around porch. Your mother and father hated one another — their least favourite characteristics about each other were reflected in you, their daughter. Most of the time they couldn’t manage to look you in the eyes, much less hold a conversation.

“I mean, I don’t want you here,” he explained to you in a condescending tone, as if you were an unknowing child.

All of a sudden, the anger you had just felt towards him was replaced with absolute desperation. Desperate to stay, for him to forgive you, for him to hold you even if it hurt. You’re not even sure what you’d be asking for forgiveness for — but you’d do it without hesitation.

Your shaky hands find his chest and you snake your arms around his waist. He stands frigid and cold, unresponsive to your touch.

“Please, I’m sorry baby.” you mutter into his shirt. “Let’s just go inside…” you trail off as you use the tip of your finger to trace shapes on his back, a weakness of his. You begin to feel him slightly relax into your touch.

Trying to diffuse the situation you add, “We can make something up about the statue. I know how Ward can be sometimes...”

He tensed up again. You knew better than to bring up his dad, especially in the state he was in right now. You were already blaming yourself for whatever would come next, before it even happened.

Rafe ferociously pushed you off of him sending you into the ground, knees scraping against the pavement. “You think you know everything.” he spat, “You don’t know shit, (Y/N).”

Rafe walks away and you sit there for a moment. All that can be heard is the pounding of your heart and the crickets chirping. You begin to think from this angle, you and the shattered statue didn’t really look much different.

❁❁❁❁❁❁

Walking the streets of figure eight, you begin to feel the effects of the stimulants wearing off. The distractions you so desperately seek are beginning to crumble around you — leaving you completely and utterly alone with just your thoughts, bloody knees, and shaky hands.

These streets were painfully familiar. Under the amber glow of the street lamps, memories uncontrollably flooded your mind. You were seeing it like a movie scene — from the days that you spent with the pogues riding bikes together fading into more recent memories of Rafe carrying you on his back on your way home from a houseparty. Sometimes you think of that girl you used to be. Even if you wanted to be her again, you had no idea how. Riding on the back of JJ Maybank’s bike while the sun was setting and the rest of your friends trailing closely behind you. You remember the sound of your laughter while your arms and hair danced in the wind. The thought reminds you of earlier that night in Rafe’s car and the similar sensation you had felt while leaning out the window. You immediately felt guilty for thinking about the past — you loved Rafe… and they didn’t want you with him.

Attempting to keep your thoughts from slipping out of your control, you begin to start thinking of what painkillers you could steal from your parents medicine cabinet. Continuing to stumble home while considering whether or not there was enough oxycontin or vicodin that could be stolen without someone noticing. Nobody ever did.

Noticing headlights approaching, you stagger to the side of the road. The streets were usually vacant at this time. You look to your right to see the van you once spent much of your time in, with the paint still chipped and surfboards strapped to the roof. You immediately avert your eyes, desperate to disappear into thin air. The constant presence of Rafe basically ensured that whenever you crossed paths, all of you would just look the other way.  

“(Y/N)?” you hear the familiar voice as the van slows down beside you. You hesitate before looking up, meeting the gaze of John Booker Routledge. You’re grateful it is only him in the van, seeing all the faces that represented your old life would be too overwhelming while you were in this state. You don’t slow down your pace, but he drives slowly alongside you awaiting a response. All that you do is quickly glance up with a forced smile, panic rushing over you as you think of what Rafe would say if he knew who you were talking to.

“(Y/N)… are you okay?” he asks, noticing the blood running down your shins and unsteady steps. “I’m great.” you reply, eyes glued to the road ahead of you. Your voice comes out sounding harsh. You feel a pang of guilt, but you’re not the same girl that John B remembers. You’ve become detached and full of anger — ready to unleash it on anyone in an instant.

“I can’t let you walk home like this.” he states with a sigh, looking between you and the road as he drives alongside you.

“You’re not letting me do anything,” you retort. “Besides, Rafe would beat the shit out of you if he found out.”

John B scoffs, “I’m not scared of your boyfriend.” You should be, you think to yourself. “And besides, I don’t see him anywhere.”

That comment caused you to stop in your tracks and stiffen up. John B hits the brakes. You constantly craved Rafe’s presence and standing on the side of the road bloody and bruised and practically sober, you never felt more alone.

“Shut up, Booker.” you almost whisper. His eyes softened at the use of his middle name that he only ever let you call him by, “Listen, I’m sorry. Just let me take you home.”

You think the faster you get home, the faster you make it to the medicine cabinet. So you get in.

What would’ve been a 30 minute walk was just a short 6 minute drive. Silence had filled the space between you and the boy who you once called your best friend. After what seemed like forever, your large blue house finally came into view. You were prepared to make a quick exit with just a simple ‘thank you’ but John B sighed as he put the car in park, obviously wanting to say something.

“(Y/N), I know it’s been almost two years but—” you cut him off, “We’re not doing this. Thank you for the ride but, we are not doing this.”

You manage to open the passenger door slightly so you can make a swift escape from the last conversation you want to have but John B reaches over you, slamming it shut and making you flinch which doesn’t go unnoticed. “Please let me say this.” he pleads. You sit there staring at your hands as he continues, “We never stopped caring about you. I don’t care where you are, or who you are with. Pogues for life… I don’t care how much of a kook you or everybody else thinks you are.”

You shake your head, “You think you know everything.” you recycle the words you had just heard from your boyfriend, “You don’t know shit.”

“You’re wrong.” he replies, “I know you, (Y/N).”

You break your gaze from your hands, looking at him in the eye for the first time. The words come out soft and sort of sad, “Not anymore.”

You exit the car and begin to walk towards the door of your cold and harsh home.

“(Y/N)!” John B shouts. You spin on your heels, with a sigh. What more can be said, you think. “You know where to find us… if you ever need anything.” With that, he drives away.

❁❁❁❁❁❁

You collected the pills that you hoped would make you forget the events that took place and snuck into your bedroom. Leaning against the counter of your ensuite bathroom, you stare at yourself in the mirror. Someone with messy hair, smudged makeup, and bloodshot eyes stares back at you. But what caught your attention was the hand shaped bruise that was beginning to form on your jaw. Your fingertips graze over the area as tears form in your eyes. You suddenly felt sick to your stomach. It wasn’t Rafe’s violent nature that scared you. It was realizing that no matter what he did, you would still love him. You pop the pills and head to bed.

❁❁❁❁❁❁

The sunlight peeking through your blinds wakes you up. With your head pounding, you reach for the aspirin that you kept on standby as this is how you were left feeling most mornings. Reaching for your phone, you hoped to god that you had messages from Rafe. 

No new notifications, just your lockscreen with a picture of you and him kissing from last year's Midsummers staring back at you. Unlocking your phone, you open your contacts. Scrolling to the letter ‘B’ you find the contact information that has laid idle for nearly two years. ‘Booker.’

You stare at the name for what seemed like hours, something inside you willing you to be brave and reach out.

Before that voice got too loud, it was interrupted by your ringtone. ‘RAFE♥’ spread across the screen and your heart rate picked up. You eagerly answered, “Hello?”

“Hi baby girl. Can you be ready in 15 minutes?” he asks, “I just picked up from Barry’s and we’re going to spend the day on the boat I think.”

You hesitate, remembering what it was you almost did mere seconds before you received Rafe’s call. “(Y/N)?”

You snap back into reality, “Yeah, I’ll be waiting on my dock.” you confirm.

“That’s my girl.” you smile at his words, “And hey, sorry about what went down last night. We were both really fucked up.” he chuckles.

You had forgiven Rafe before he even said the words, “Don’t worry about it.”

“I love you, (Y/N).”

“I love you too, Rafe.”

[brideofcthulhu10]

The Lost Boys Find Out Their Fem!S/O is Pregnant [4/4]

SUBJECT WARNING: PHYSICAL AGRESSION, SEXUAL THEMES AND A WHOLE LOT OF SWEARING. READER DISCRETION IS ADVISED!

Alrighty then, my lovely fang babes! Here we are, we have the last of the first edition of the pregnancy saga! Worry not, dearest readers, for there is hope! I plan on doing a separate series about going through the pregnancy, and maybe even going through the childbirth with how the boys are as new dads. Let me know in the comments if you'd like to see more, and by tomorrow night we'll have a whole new set to love!

It was such a blast writing Paul's, I'm not gonna lie I got lost in the magic! We have a cute little character cameo for all you 80s movie nerds, lemme know if you can figure out what it is! So, without any more delays; here he is. The gorgeous, the goofy, the one, the only:

PAUL

Today had been an unexpected challenge. You barely got through your shift at the record store, every time you were in light it made you dizzy. Hangovers had nothing on this! Did you drink too much the night before? No, now that you thought about it any attempts to drink had you hugging a toilet. Not to mention your period was late as hell! Well, not the cramps, go figure. Just no blood. None at all. 

You never let on to your beau, Paul, though. The party boy vampire would become overly worried if you told him you were sick, and you weren't about to spoil a good time with a bit of nausea. So here you were, stumbling about the day into the late afternoon absolutely miserable. Your manager Iona offered you some crackers and ginger ale during your lunch break. No dice, within an hour you were running to the bathroom again. 

"Gosh hon, I dunno what ta tell ya. Maybe you ate something nasty, I told you that boardwalk food was fishy," Iona sighed, poking at her own lunch with a fork. Currently your coworker Andie was watching the front until you were feeling better.

"Kill me now, Iona," you groaned, chin resting on the table with your arms laid over your head. Then there was a smell. The greatest, most flavorful, mouthwatering scent you've ever experienced. Like a honey baked ham and a New York sirloin had a glorious new baby drizzled in ecstasy. Glancing over, your stomach growled at whatever it could be. If this were a cartoon you'd be flying to what it was.

Oddly enough, it was coming from Iona. Well, whatever black stuff was in her little plastic tupperware dish. Who cares what it was, it smelled incredible.

"Hey uh..," you asked, leaning over towards the sticky, mysterious delicacy calling your name. "You wouldn't mind if I had a bite, would ya?"

"You sure, hon? This isn't exactly your average dish, it's kinda weird," she tried to explain. God you couldn't take your eyes off it! Finally, your merciful manager pushed it your way, and you couldn't resist any longer. 

"I don't even care, this is the first thing in the past two days that hasn't made me nauseous," you muffled between cosmic bites.

Oh shit, this was heaven! It had to be some sort of meat, it reminded her of a nice spicy kielbasa, a slow roasted brisket, every second it changed to some new world of food you had never tried. What it was didn't matter by this point.

"Wooow. I've never met someone who liked black pudding that much."

Pudding? "I thought it was meat or something? It doesn't taste anything like pudding," you insisted, polishing off the very last specs of it. "Got any more?"

"No, no, not like chocolate pudding or stuff like that, kiddo. black pudding. It's this dish from the UK my new boyfriend made me. It's congealed pig's and cow blood mixed with spices."

You made a face. Blood? Like, blood blood? The cow equivalent of what Paul drank on a daily basis? Yet this was the first time you didn't puke, in fact, you kinda wanted more. Even knowing what is was made of.. for some reason you craved more. Meanwhile Iona continued to talk on and on, until one phrase caught your ears. "Yea, ya know my mom was so into for the longest time. Said she craved it her whole pregnancy, I never got a taste for it honestly."

A single thought popped into your head. A dangerous, foreboding thought that your intuition said was very much a possibility. In a flash you jumped up, nearly slamming your hands on the table. "I gotta go. Oh shit, I gotta go! I'll be right back, I swear, I'm so sorry, I swear to god I'll be right back," you shouted as you bolted out of the store.

"Wait what-?!"

You'd make it up to her once you got back. You had to know! You had to be sure..! Please just let it be paranoia! Please let it be anything, anything at all besides what you thought it was!

Once you reached the nearest CVS you made a B-line to the women's health section. Your hair clung to your face, your lungs stung like crazy but all you could think about was getting answers. And cue the disapproving glare of some old bat picking out a box of pads. Alright being 17 in front of the pregnancy tests looked bad. You weren't just a high schooler, you looked it too. "What're you looking at, " you snarl. Immediately she clutched her pearls, startled by this abrasive youngin' in no mood for dirty looks. God why'd there have to be so many options? Pink boxes, purple ones, bright yellow insisting it worked the fastest. The heavy fluorescent lights were no help at all, it made your head spin. You had no time for this crap. In a sweeping motion you grabbed three different brands and threw them into your basket, all you needed was….where was your wallet? Shit... Glancing around you checked for any nearby cameras or staff. Karma be damned, it was an emergency! Five finger discount it was. 

Once again you made a mad dash back to the record store as the sun finally set. All three boxes were crumpled in your hand, your boots running so fast it you hit a rock that'd be it.

But getting back to the record store was your best bet. You weren't about to pee in some dirty, old, nasty pharmacy bathroo- oh fuck. There was something that finally slowed your steps, nearly making you trip in the process. Four bikes parked right outside. Three of which were occupied by by Dwayne, David and Marko all talking amongst themselves.

Shiiiit, shit, shit! All you could do was swear repeatedly. Before they could spot you, you practically dove into the alleyway behind the store, rapidly disabling the alarm. If that went off it'd be a dead giveaway. Quickly you looked left and right before you slammed the door shut behind you still trying to catch air.

But there, right past the door to the employees lounge, over by the counter you could see a mass of blonde hair chatting away with Iona about Led Zeppelin's best album to date. Paul, gorgeous as every, laughing. It made your heart flutter, but then it sank. What if it was a-... He was never the type to run away from a challenge. But then again, a kid wasn't a challenge, it was a massive ordeal. It would take a huge chunk of his life- well, afterlife! Boozing and cruising would be switched out with drowsy days and busy nights. You weren't sure if you wanted him to know if you were, it would take all that from him. Unfortunately, he must've smelled you or sonething, because immediately he turned around like a puppy being called.

"Babe," he cheered with delight, rushing over to hug you. Rather squeeze you by your hips and lift you four feet off the ground. Quickly you stuffed the skinny boxes into your back pocket, now smushed up against his chest. "Where were you? Ion's said you just bolted mid-shift, we were worried sick! Well, I mean, I was more worried though, cuz I can't stand you bein' gone, kitten."

"Well, yeah uh, I forgot something I had to get at the store, and I forgot what time I got off," you hesitated, still antsy to escape to the bathroom. Truthfully you didn't actually want to, you had to! If you could, you'd just kiss him and ride off into the night to raise some hell like you always did. But this was too big to ignore.

Paul raised a brow. You weren't known for being this jumpy. You wouldn't look him in the eyes, they just kept darting towards the bathroom. Boy, you really did look sick, though. Pale, almost greenish with dark circles under your eyes. You even felt colder than usual. "Am I uh, interrupting something, babe?"

You managed to work out if his arms, giggling nervously. "Actually I-I had some of Iona's lunch earlier, and I just, gotta- be right back!"

With that, you bolted into the bathroom and slammed the door behind you. Again, weird. Paul just shrugged, maybe you had some bad Mexican.

 Iona wasn't convinced. Little miss jumpy-pants skipping out on her, you owed her an explanation. While Paul perused the albums she sunk over to the bathroom, rapidly tapping on the door. "Y/N! Psst! You good in there, hon?"

You were most certainly NOT good! Your hand shook, the third test finally finished. Not like it mattered! They all said the same thing. Every fucking one of them.

Positive. Positive. Positive.

No, no, no!

"Shit," you hissed. "Shit! Oh shit, oh fuck! Fuck-fuckity shit fuck fuck! Dammit." That's all you could do! You swore over, and over, and over, rapidly kicking the wall in front of you. Stupid pink plus! Why? Why did it have to be a plus?? Immediately you threw it in the trash and scooped up the other two. Maybe they were all flukes? Maybe only a doctor could tell you! You had to get home. Like now. Right now, you just had to rush home, make an appointment at the doctors, maybe hide in shame for a few days just until you could figure out what the hell to do with all this! Once again you wedged the tests in your back pocket and nearly tripped, cracking open the door to face your boss. "Iona, I gotta get home."

"Seriously, Y/N?? Why? What is with you?"

"Please, I swear I will make it up to you, I'll take a double shift, I'll wash your damn car-"

"Oh no, nuh-uh. Not until you tell me why you're being such a spaz," she practically shouted in a hissing whisper, absolutely exasperated. You teens and your drama, when she always said she wanted to fell young again this is NOT what she meant!  

"Listen i-... iyay amyay egnantpray," you whispered. Pig latin. It was a little code you two usually reserved for secrets. Well, that and talking smack about snotty customers. But wow was this a big ol' secret. 

Iona covered her mouth. Oh, you little idiot! You poor little idiot. Looking over at the unsuspecting boyfriend she sighed, looking you in the eyes. She wanted to just tell you to come clean to your man. The boy hung around you constantly, you two were the ultimate it-couple, there wasn't even sparks it was like watching supernovas. Something this big.. it shouldn't be left in the dark!

But that pitiful expression on your face just begged her to keep quiet, and frankly it wasn't her place to tell you what to do- well, at least in this regard. "Alright, alright. This saturday you're taking my night time shift, there's a big concert I wanna go to. And you gotta wax my car, it's gettin' nasty. And you better write the best damn apology note in the history of apology notes, sweetie. This is huge, you better come clean to him eventually, or I'll kick your little butt you hear me?"

"Yes. Absolutely, fine, deal. Just please, please keep him busy, I'm not ready to tell him," you whined, clutching the door. Frankly it sounded like a piss poor plan, but it couldn't be helped, not right now at least. You didn't have the strength to confront the situation head on, you were barely keeping it together. You wanted to cry all over, jump into his arms and come clean now, but this was neither the time or place.

As soon as Iona went to go over to Paul you stuffed the tests into your purse and bolted out the back door, only this time stealth was not on your side. Right at the mouth of the alleyway, just as you were about to be home free- you ran smack dab into a particularly lithe blonde that felt like a brick wall. You went flying onto the ground, your purse crashing onto concrete with a hundred pieces of your privacy going every direction. In a panic you began to rapidly stuff it all back, barely able to hide the first two tests as you threw some half baked apology Marko's way. Honestly he deserved a better one than that, but you were too frazzled to be fair at the moment.

"Oh shit, Y/N," Marko exclaimed, immediately kneeling down to help you gather the scattered remains of your purse. "Sorry, I didn't even see you, I was coming back for a smoke. Big Ed is such a douche, can you believe theres no smoking on the-..." His words trailed off, and you shortly saw why. Grasped between his pointer finger and thumb was the little pink strip, and a look of complete disbelief. All you could do was snatch it from him, a heavy moment of silence magically muffling the wild noise and shouts of the busy boardwalk. 

"Do...D-Don't worry about it. Look, I gotta get home, I'll see you arou-," you started, trying to jump up, maybe catch him off guard and make a run for it. Not this time. 

You hadn't even noticed he grabbed your wrist, it was such a blur. He stayed silent, standing up and looking right into your eyes with hidden malcontent. You swore if you answered wrong this mischievous cat would tear your throat out. After all, you were his best friend's girl. If you did anything, ANYTHING, to hurt him... Well, let's just say a pregnancy would be the least of your worries. "Why are you running, Y/N? What the hell is this thing," he asked quietly, eyes flickering between red and blue. "Did you…?"

"Oh don't fuckin' even," You snapped, smacking his arm, yanking your hand out of his grasp. "Of course not! You butt! God, are you serious? What do you take me for- No! I- fuck I just- no!" You kick the tin trash can beside you, watching a plethora of trash fly into the air. "I am freaking out! Of course it's Paul's. Oh fucking god, it's Paul's and I don't know what to do!"

Marko's expression softened, placing a hand on your shoulder. "Hey, I didn't mean to make it sound like that, Y/N. Paul's my friend, I just had to be sure you weren't sneaking around, you know?"

You sighed, pushing back your mess of a hair with misty eyes. This was perfect, a real big screw up from start to finish. All you could do was look over at Marko with pleading eyes. "You can't tell him yet. Please, just please please PLEASE, Marko, don't tell Paul yet!"

"Tell me what, babe?"

Shit. Shit on a stick. You looked behind to see Paul halfway out the back door with a look of concern, one that he rarely carried. You and your dumb mouth, go figure.

The blonde pushed through and let the door close behind him, looking over at his best bud standing alone with his girlfriend who was begging him to keep something secret, from him no less.

 "Marko?"

"Nah, nah, don't look at me man, this is all on you guys," he sighed, hands up in a shielding motion. "Good luck buddy. Gotta go, Y/N." with that the young vampire excused himself from this melting pot of drama, hands stuffed in his pockets. 

You just stood there, keeping the little strip tightly grasped behind your back. Paul was silent, but glancing at his hands you saw they were balled so tight his knuckles were white. "P-paul…," you hesitated, biting down on your bottom lip. "I should really… get home.."

Paul only raised a brow, glancing at your arms still tucked behind you. This wasn't like you to hide from him, and that alone frightened him. Nothing had ever frightened him before. And he didn't like the taste of it one bit. "What's behind your back, babe?"

"What?"

Again his spoke, this time his voice lowered into a low growl. "What... do you have... behind your back, babe?" The way he said it was so firm, it made you shake a little. You didn't like stern Paul. They way he hissed the word "babe", practically spoken through clenched teeth

Your throat ached, eyes darting across the ground struggling to think up a good excuse. Anything. A book, your purse, a surprise for him! Anything!

"N-nothing." Apparently, you failed to find any excuses. Great.

Paul's knuckles began to crack, jumping forward to try and snatch it from behind you. When you dodged him, he grew even more furious. You both began to struggle, pushing him away, insisting he just stop and let you leave. But every attempt to reject him only upset him further. Why were you hiding things from him?! How could you just ditch him at the record store when he was worried sick about you??

The struggle built up until finally he had enough. His eyes turned white with rings of fire, brow looming heavily over his eyes and fangs jutting out where his incisors once were. In a flash he grabbed you by you wrists, pinning you so hard to the wall it shook. You still tried to struggle. Thrash, kick, squirm! Steel wished it could be so strong, your muscles ached. This probably wasn't even his full strength, but it dwarfed you in comparison. This terrifying side of Paul you had certainly seen before, but never had you been on the receiving end. It was in all sense of the word, predatorial. He'd never try to kill you, but you still felt that horror build up inside. Rapid, sharp breaths made your chest heave, too afraid to look up at those red eyes still fixated on whatever you kept hidden from him. He continued to pry your stubborn fingers open, ignoring your shaking whimpers. He squoze your wrist, the tendons aching and contracting until your fingertips began to lift up. Any resistance was pretty much useless at this point, but dammit you still tried everything to worm out of his grip. But he had finally had it, you weren't gonna be keeping secrets from him. Now your last finger was pushed off, and he could see what was so damn important that you physically fought him to keep it secret. It was almost slow motion the way the strip spun to the ground, clattering down and landing beside his mud caked boots. He froze, slowly looking down at it. That's it? That's all you-...

You could barely read his face, so many different emotions flashing across it all at once. Occasionally he'd look back up at you, then back down at it. To the point you almost got annoyed that you were still being stuck to a wall while the reality set in. After all, it didn't take a rocket scientist to know what that was, just put you down already!

Paul looked at you still pinned beneath him, horrified at how he lost his temper and immediately released you. Still rubbing away the pain across your wrists, you watched him pick it up. A wave of guilt swarmed your body, you didn't know whether to hug him or punt him in the chest.

Hell, a massive tidal wave of guilt overflowed him too. It'd been such a long time since he got that angry.. but worst of all he'd never been like that with you. Never grabbed you so forcefully and ignored your pleas, it was a dark side of him he never wanted to display in front of you. Glancing at the little pink plus at the end of the stick, his mind swirled with a plethora of questions. But slowly he stood up, looking down at you still really trying to process everything that had happened in the past few minutes. "I don't… I don't understand.."

"You- You are such an ass," you shouted out of nowhere, enough that it made him jump. There you were. That's the fiery girl he knew, not the one he exactly wanted to be on the opposing side of at the moment, though.

Paul wasn't surprised you were pissed, but he definitely didn't expect you to start punching his arm. Again. Then again, and again you just kept hiting his arms, his chest, pushing and crying, you were so mad you wanted to chuck him in the ocean! It didn't really hurt that much, but he felt awful he drove you to that point.

Tears blurred your vision as you lashed out on him. All you could do was yell names between sobs, even whack him with your purse. "Paul, you absolute jerk! Butt! Jackass! You smarmy, half wit, blood-sucking tool! You said you were packing blanks, you absolute liar! I was gonna tell yo-! I mean, I know I shouldn't have run-! But you just couldn't wait- and then Marko- and you! You ! Jerk ! Butthead !"

"Hey, ow! Ow! Ow, dammit! I know, I know I went to far-ow not the hair dammit," he demanded, grabbing your arms before you could lay another mighty blow. "Babe! Babe, stop! I thought I was! I swear I didn't know- I-..I never thought that I could get you...." His hands slowly released your shoulders, moving to your hips. "I'm so sorry, baby. I swear, I didn't know.. I'm so sorry."

The way his voice softened only made you want to cry more. This whole day was a mess. You didn't mean to try and run.. You never should've tried to in the first place. God, you were so tired. All this running around, all this secrecy, the fighting, it was exhausting. Paul was the last person you wanted to fight. Sure you had spats and a few heated arguments. Every couple did, even vampires. But this, it was just so.m draining. With a firm thud you plopped your forehead on his sternum, your fingers tightly clinging to the upper sleeves of his jacket. "Wh-what am I supposed to do-… what are we supposed to do now..?"

Paul pondered his options with a solemn face, but there was only one that made him happy. Only one that sat right in his heart. What else could he possibly do, there was only ever going to be one answer even if you told him right away. Most of all, he couldn't stand the sorrow in your eyes. A frown never suited such a beautiful face. He never expected there to be anything to come from your heavy sexcapades, it never seemed like there was any risks in it. He'd never seen a vampire munchkin, least of all he'd never even heard of a vamp conceiving with a human. All he knew now is you, crying in his arms, terrified of what you were carrying. What it could mean. In that moment, he steeled his resolve and came to a final decision.

Silently he tilted your chin up, using his thumb to brush away all those tears staining your cheeks. Those blue eyes, you could get lost in them. Swallowed up by the sea. It wasn't hard to read his mind when he held onto your hip with one hand, while the other that pushed away salty droplets now cupped your cheek. Within moments you crashed your mouth into his, wrapping your arms around the back of his neck.

Warm. A surge of heat filled your body. It was the first time you felt truly alive all day. You could feel your chest heave against his, you didn't want any space between the two of you and only pressed tighter until there wasn't anything left. Each kiss gave momentary breath before you dove in for more. Neither of you could stop. You didn't want to pull away, not even for a split second. The way he smelled, the way he tasted, the way he touched you, the way he felt beneath your fingers; it made your head spin. His hands began to wander, you clutched at anything you could get a hold of. Your body burned, so sweet and long. In those moments the world stopped, it just melted away in streams of light. No one was there but you two. 

It was over too soon, both of you rapidly panting for breath still intertwined. Oh, how you could stare into his eyes forever.

That frown was long gone, replaced by a tender smile. The one he had come to cherish. Paul chuckled softly, breathlessly nuzzling against your collar bone. Slowly he leaned in close to your ear, his disheveled blonde hair brushing up against your cheeks. Lips trailed up flesh, reavhing just beneath your ear. And then you heard those three forbidden words. Such sweet, tender words, you hadn't expected him to say. Although he whispered them so softly they might have gotten lost in the wind, to you they were as clear as the moon on a cloudless night.

"Y/N.... I love you."

It made your heart throb, you thought you might even faint. A lifetime of struggles led up to this beautiful moment. You never expected it to be a half-undressed heavy make out session with your vampire lover, the father of your unborn spawn, in the back alley of a record store on the Santa Carla Boardwalk. But here you were, nestled between him and an old brick wall. Paul loved you, he had said it, he finally said those words that could destroy any doubt you had. And more than anything in the whole wide world, you knew once and for all, you loved Paul.