#but every kind of job like that rejects me immediately so ^_^

[nutmegpoid]

you know for someone with horrible social anxiety pretty much every job ive had at this point has involved Extensive Phone Usage

[pyrodolls]

admirer! yandere boy x hitman! reader

✰ warnings: murder, mentions of blood and poison, stalking, obsessiveness, regular yandere tendencies, reader is a hitman, reader is also a fake ass bitch, lowercase intended, gender neutral reader and no use of y/n. i do not condone yanderes irl or the themes in this fic.

✰ a/n: hey guys so i saw people on tiktok playing yandere simulator and implementing an admirer/stalker in the game. inspiration struck and i thought i’d write something based off of that. if this is well-liked i may write another part. i’m also hoping to write more frequently cuz it’s summer now!! expect more frequent updates and some reqs to finally be written :) also, i was hoping you guys could comment or message some name ideas for our little admirer!yandere boy…

you thought you got away with it. you were hired to eliminate a student in your class, and nobody ever found out it was you. you were able to show up to school the next week, unbothered, even though the staff and students were weeping over the loss of their classmate. you were even at the late student’s funeral, standing amongst the sea of supporters dressed in black, and not a single soul knew it was you.

except for one. it was a boy that was in your class. he sat behind you, staring at the back of your head every day, hoping you’d talk to him. hoping you’d look at him. he was completely and utterly infatuated with you. he knew your entire schedule, address, interests, and more. for someone that killed people for a living, you somehow never noticed the boy that followed you everywhere you went.

he was the one that noticed your crime. he saw when you slipped a poison into your fellow classmate’s food, and watched them cough up blood for a couple minutes before they died. if a regular student witnessed what you did, they would run away and report you. but your little admirer just stood and grinned. oh, how pretty you looked with blood on your skin. you were so skilled at your job, how could he not admire your work?

he didn’t tell a single soul. he already found out about your twisted job long ago, he just never had the luck to see it in person. it didn’t phase him in the slightest. in fact, it made him want you even more. he even went home that day and ranted to his wall about what he saw. how he wanted to go up to you and compliment your skills, how mesmerizing you were when you swiftly disposed of the evidence, how strong you were to simply go on with your other classes as if nothing happened.

the week after that student’s funeral, it was deemed a self-inflicted death. there were new posters all over the walls with phrases such as: “you are loved!” or “you are not alone!” to prevent the incident from occurring again. your stalker felt overjoyed. you were getting away with it! he couldn’t be more proud of you. he decided to let you know how he felt as quickly as possible. he couldn’t keep it a secret anymore.

during your first class, you felt a tap on your shoulder. the scrawny boy behind you held up a small, folded sheet of paper with shaky hands. you took the paper and gave a fake smile to the boy. when you opened the note, you read: “meet me on the roof during lunch.”

you had to keep up your “friendly” reputation at school, so you couldn’t reject him. that’s why you reluctantly went up to the roof.

however, he was panicked. he immediately regretted his decision the moment you read his note. he couldn’t focus during his other classes because of how nervous he was.

but he couldn’t just leave you hanging, so he went up to the rooftop anyway.

“so.. what’s your na-“

“i love you!” the boy blurted out, interrupting your attempt at a kind greeting. his sudden confession left you speechless, and you had no clue how to respond.

he waited for your answer, hoping you weren’t disgusted. he stood with his hands tightly gripping his shirt, staring at the floor. he was too scared to look up at your face.

after a painfully long minute, he opened his mouth again. “i… have been watching you for a while. i am in love with you. every day, i only think of you. i kept it a secret for a while, but after i saw how you killed that studen-”

you quickly pinned him to the wall with your arm buried into his neck. “shut your mouth!” you scolded, looking around to see if anyone heard him.

“listen man, i don’t know who you are. but you’re sounding like a real fuckin’ freak, and you saw what i did. give me one good reason why i should spare your life.” you threatened.

“i’m on your side! i swear! i meant that i was amazed by what i saw! i’ve always been in love with you, but seeing what you did made me fall even harder. you looked so good with blood on your face, by the way.” he babbled, pathetically choking out praises in hopes that you would believe him.

you scoffed. “and how do i know you’re not coming up with some random bullshit so i don’t kill you?”

“i never reported you! it’s been a week and i never told a single soul what i saw. if i didn’t love you, i would’ve told someone. but i didn’t! because i really, truly love you. please give me a chance, i’ll be the best boyfriend ever! i’ll do your homework, i’ll cook and clean for you, and i know all your favorite shows and movies so i can talk to you about them!” he rambled.

as fun as that sounded, you really weren’t looking for a boyfriend at the moment. you were too busy. besides, even if you did want a boyfriend, this guy would be nowhere near your top picks.

“i don’t want a boyfriend. i don’t even know you! plus, no matter what you say, you still saw what i did. i won’t let you leave this roof alive.” you declared.

“nononono please, i’ll help you! i’ll assist you in killing people or something. i’ll do anything to prove my love. just give me a chance to be with you. listen, you can give me a month, and if you still don’t like me, you can kill me.” he proposed.

you thought about it for a moment. it didn’t sound like a bad idea. this guy’s willing to be a free, personal assistant. he could take a lot of weight off your chest if he helped with your work. and you knew a guy this scrawny could never beat you in a fight, so if anything goes wrong, you can eliminate him easily.

“you got yourself a deal, pipsqueak. you have 30 days. impress me, and maybe i’ll let you off the hook. but if you snitch on me, or if i still don’t like you by the end of the month, i’ll snap your neck.”

“so you’re giving me a chance? thank you so much! i won’t let you down.” the boy cheered.

you sighed. “you better not.”

it’s gonna be a long month.

[i314flix]

[ 7:23 A.M. ] “god, ____, you’re killing me here.”

you glared at jake. you wanted to retort that if anyone had the right to claim that they were being killed at this second, it would be you, thanks to your annoying fever. after all, you have been glued to your bed since yesterday, only getting up when you needed to pee or wished to rummage through the fridge, trying to find something to eat that your appetite might be kind enough to accept. so far, a half-glass of orange juice has managed to get down your throat, as well as a few spoonfuls of rice porridge.

“how the hell am i supposed to leave you like this?” he added when you didn’t answer. “should i make a call and say i’m rejecting the deployment?”

“is that even allowed?”

“no. i’m pretty sure they’ll throw me in the brig and give me a bad discharge or something.”

“then you should leave now, jake.” you weakly pushed his thigh. he was standing beside the bed, dressed in his naval aviator uniform, this permanent worried expression etched on his face. “i promise, i’ll live. it’s just some stupid cold.”

he didn’t move.

“jake.”

“what do you expect me to do?” he raised his arms up in frustration, voice raising a bit. he sometimes had the bad habit of converting his concern into a display of anger. “my girlfriend’s sick. her temperature’s not lowering, she lives alone, and i’m about to leave her for three months because my job demands it. i’m sorry if i want to ditch my patriotic duty for a goddamn day!”

you sighed. you weren’t sure how you were going to make the situation better either, and being scolded by jake didn’t help. it only worsened your headache, this ringing bothering your ears heightening for a second.

“shit, i’m sorry.” you suddenly heard jake mutter almost immediately when he finished talking, and he crouched down to your level, placing a hand over cheek. “i did it again, didn’t i?”

“turned your anger on me? yeah.”

guilt washed over him further. “i’m sorry for being a dick. you didn’t deserve that.”

“it’s alright, babe.” you placed your palm over his hand, a small smile making its way on your lips to appear stronger than you were. “we both know this wasn’t how it was supposed to be. we’re supposed to be sneaking in a quickie before i drive you to the airport and instead i’m sick.”

jake laughed at that. “i hate that i can’t even kiss you right now.”

“i know. i hate it too.”

“i hate that i need to leave.”

“if only you didn’t have to.”

“you sure you’ll be fine?” he asked.

“yeah, positive.” you replied. “i mean, this isn’t the first time i’ve been sick on my own. i’m a grown woman. i can take care of myself.”

“that’s another thing i hate.”

“don’t worry.” you kissed his wrist. “once i’m back on my feet, i’ll tell you.”

that seemed to ease him a little. “i expect you to tell me you’re okay as soon as possible, alright?”

“i’ll even write it in paragraph form with pictures if you want.”

“i’m being serious.”

you smiled wider, sheepish. “yes, sir. i’ll update you as soon as possible.”

he rolled his eyes at your playfulness and leaned in to give your forehead a long kiss. “don’t forget to drink your meds on time. i’ll tell marjorie to check on you every now and then.” marjorie was your elderly neighbor who had a dog you often looked after when she had lengthy errands to do.

you nodded once more, and with a final kiss on your cheek this time, jake said his farewells (reluctantly) and was out of your apartment by the time you were threatening to call coyote to haul him away.

[mind-intheclouds342]

The perfect one - Trans Curly x Reader

Warning: Smutty!

To you, he was the best man you could have ever met, tall, blonde, with blue eyes, his beard tickled you every time you kissed him, his hands were big and perfect for holding your face, kind, compassionate, and you could keep naming many other qualities of his.

After so many failed relationships, you felt that you had finally met the right person for you. 

Maybe the only bad thing you could say about him was his job, which meant he was away too much, but in the last few months you were dating, there wasn't a day when you didn't receive a call from him and he would tell you how everything was going.

While you were waiting at the mall for their arrival to meet, someone had approached you. 

He looked familiar when you gave him a glance, until you realized he was a friend of Curly's, whom you had only seen in photographs. 

Jimmy: "Aren't you (Y/n)? Curly's girlfriend?"

"Um- yeah, it's me..." 

You nodded somewhat nervously at the man's sudden closeness. 

Jimmy: "Are you gay?"

"Excuse me?"

That question had caught you completely off guard. 

Jimmy: "Sure you are, otherwise you wouldn't be with Curly, right?" 

"I don't understand what you're talking about."

Jimmy: "You know, because he is a woman."

"Eh?"

Every word that came out of his mouth only made you feel more and more confused. 

Jimmy: "Didn't you know? He may look like a man and all, but he doesn't have what really makes a man."

"You know- I don't feel comfortable talking about this with you. I will kindly ask you to leave me alone and go away."

Jimmy: "Ugh, I'm just telling you the truth, you don't have to react that way."

He rolled his eyes. 

Jimmy: "You should be with a real man, I'm available if you're interested in that."

"No thanks, I would prefer to eat cockroaches."

You made an unpleasant grimace at that idea, but the thought of being much closer to that person for a longer time seemed even more disgusting to you. 

After rejecting him in a thousand different ways and having him insult you for rejecting him, he got tired enough to leave you alone. 

"What kind of friends does Curly have?"

You wondered, looking at the time on your phone, hoping he would arrive soon. 

And when you looked up from the screen, all you could see were yellow tulips in front of you. 

Curly: "Have you been waiting a long time for me?"

You melted at the sight of that beautiful smile he has, and the gesture of the flowers in a pot won your heart once again. 

"No, not at all, I arrived just a few minutes early."

You responded by greeting your boyfriend with a kiss on the lips, happy to see him again. 

Curly: "Great, shall we go to that new café you wanted to go to?"

"Of course~"

You clung to his arm and, attached to him, walked together until you reached that place.

You took a seat, leaving the flowers aside, and after glancing at the menu, you decided to place  your orders. 

Curly: "And? Have you thought about my proposal?"

"To go live with you?" You smiled, playing with the paper napkin on the table. "I don't know..." It's still a bit early~ we've only been dating for half a year"

Curly: "Mmm, but we've known each other for two years." 

"But it seems like you haven't told me everything~" 

Immediately, his calm demeanor changed to a more nervous one. 

Curly: "Hehehehe, what are you talking about?"

"I had the strangest conversation with your friend Jimmy, you told me he was a good guy, but damn, he's an idiot!" 

Curly: "Oh- um- and what did he say?"

"He started calling you less of a man and those things, he even called you a woman, I thought it was a bit exaggerated."

Curly: "Well... About that..."

"...Why would you hide something like this from me??"

Curly: "I didn't know how you were going to react... I like you a lot and I don't want to lose you..."

"Fool, it's not worth hiding those things, sooner or later they come to light, and it's better to say them beforehand." 

Both sighed and rested their heads in their hands. 

Curly: "You're going to leave me, aren't you? It's okay if you do it..."

"What?"

Curly: "At this point, this is where everyone leaves... For women, I was never a 'real man,' and for those who like women, I was never quite a woman, so... no one was satisfied with me after finding out that I am trans. " 

"I'm angry because you didn't tell me earlier. Not because you were born a woman"

Curly: "...Are you not going to leave me?"

"How could I leave the best man in the world?"

When he saw your smile and heard what you said, he couldn't help but feel a mix of pride and joy. 

At that moment, your drinks were brought to you, and you continued your conversation as if nothing had happened, talking about your jobs and friends, catching up after not having seen each other for a while.

You had decided to go to his house, you wanted to stay for dinner and sleep with him. 

"Was that you??" 

You said, surprised, looking at some photos from when he was a teenager, before testosterone. 

The two sitting on the couch in their living room. 

Curly: "Yeah... They always told me I looked very masculine, so I tried to look as feminine as possible so they wouldn't talk weird about me, but I think I just looked dumber." 

"You were so beautiful! You have always been handsome your whole life, it's unfair!"

You buried your face in his chest and hit him a couple of times softly, until you stopped and looked at him. 

Curly: "There's nothing left" he laughed lightly as if he could read what you were thinking. 

"Can I see?"

He blushed a little at your proposal, but he was quick to please you and take off his shirt. 

You attentively observed his scars, carefully touching them with the tips of your fingers. 

"I love them" 

Curly: "And i love yours," he smiled, seeing how focused you were on his chest. 

He became somewhat curious when you started looking at his face and chest repeatedly; he suspected you were up to something and confirmed it when you bit his chest out of nowhere. 

That was the greatest show of affection you could give him. 

"By the way! You need to work on your friendships. "

You told him when you stopped biting him, he was lying on the couch breathing heavily from how you had attacked him, his entire chest and neck marked with small bites and hickeys.

Curly: "Can we talk about that later?"

He said with a sigh and his cheeks red. 

"Of course" 

You smiled to climb on top of him and kiss his lips. 

You felt his hands resting on your thighs and then slowly sliding down to your butt to squeeze it. 

You let out a small sigh between your lips, causing him to pull away from you. 

Curly: "Are you sure about this?"

"More than sure" 

You confirmed it and let out a squeal when he grabbed you to carry you, getting up from the couch ready to take you to his room. 

When he laid you down on the bed, he immediately began kissing your neck and slipped his hands inside your shirt, trying to unfasten your bra. 

You felt his hands glide over your body to take off your shirt, momentarily parting from your neck to get rid of it and then placing a kiss back on your lips. 

He gave you a smile before turning to your breasts to start kissing them first, then licking them, and finally dedicating all his attention to your nipples, one in his mouth and the other being massaged by his left hand. 

He sucked, pressed with his lips, and moved his tongue in circles over one, while with the other he gently pulled and twisted, making them hard, causing you to arch your back while letting out small moans. 

Curly: "You sound so lovely..." 

"I didn't know you could be so eager..." 

You laughed a little until you saw him run his tongue between your breasts and then down to your stomach, leaving a kiss on it before he started to take off your pants.

"Hey! I'm not a rag doll!" 

You shook your legs to prevent him from completely removing the lower part of your clothes, it didn't bother you at all but you felt a bit lazy letting him do everything. 

You finished taking off your pants by yourself, left only in your underwear, sat on his bed, and smiled. 

"You have more clothes than I do."

Curly: "And if we leave that for another day? It doesn't bother me at all to please you today."

"Pants down"

You said it almost like an order, crossing your arms.

He sighed to start unbuttoning his pants, and as he lowered them, you saw that he was wearing boxers, but what caught your attention the most was the hair peeking out from the lower part of his stomach. 

"...Jungle?"

Curly: "Don't say it like that!"

"I see that the curtains match the rugs. "

Curly: "Don't keep on with that"

You let out a giggle and pushed him, making him fall back onto the bed. You rested your cheek on his thigh, playing with the edge of his boxers between your fingers, then slowly pulling them down to his knees. 

"Oh wow-" 

You just said that and Curly was already covering his face with his arms. 

You had never seen an erect clit in your life, but you didn't mind it at all, not to mention the amount of hair covering that area. 

You couldn't help but lean in and soon take it into your mouth to suck it, surprised when he suddenly lifted his hips and his legs trembled, perhaps you hadn't considered the sensitivity of that part. 

When you tried to pull away, his hands went to your head, pushing you against his pussy. 

Curly: "No, no, no, please don't stop"

And those words were enough for you to continue with the pleasure of that man, too immersed in his moans, not wanting to stop and even exploring a bit more by inserting two of your fingers inside him, giving him goosebumps. 

Curly: "Yesss, keep going like that- a little more- a little more and-!"

You could only drown your moan in his intimacy when his legs pushed you even more against him at the moment he reached his orgasm. 

Little by little, his trembling legs slid down your back, leaving you free, finally lifting your head with your cheeks red and your face all wet.. 

"Bleh"

You stuck out your tongue to get a hair off it, and both of you ended up looking at each other and then laughing for the same reason. 

Curly: "I think I got carried away-"

"Do you think so?" 

You murmured to lean over him and kiss his lips.

Curly: "Eew, you are soaked."

"Now you deal with it" 

They laughed as you planted kisses all over their face. 

Curly: "If you want to soak my face, do it like this"

He took your sides and pulled you up until your stomach was against his face, he started kissing you, tickling you, and making you sit on his chest.

"Hehehe what are you- oh my God-"

You let out a moan when he took your sides and ended up dragging you to his face, moving your panties aside with his teeth and inserting his tongue in an instant. 

You were definitely going to seriously consider moving in with him. 

[drdemonprince]

I am always clutching to my idealized reality firmly with both fists. Whenever my hair looks good in a photograph, I immediately get to stressing about the fact that my hair has already grown some imperceptible amount since when the image was captured. Then I cut it, hoping to restore it to its former perfection — and my head gets completely mangled by my clippers and shears. I deny myself my favorite foods and drinks sometimes, knowing that the meal will too quickly be over. The moment someone begins to love me is when I start picturing them dead.  Many late-realized Autistics develop relational patterns that therapists label codependent, controlling, or Borderline. I wonder how much of our supposedly dysfunctional attachment can be attributed to our desire for constancy, and our attempts to impose stability on a reality that forever shifts. For Autistics, most social interactions are mystifying and seem to play out on their own, largely beyond our control. Possible rejection hides in every corner, much of it unforeseeable to us.  Doesn’t it make sense we’d try to control what we can?  When a partner remarks that he’d like to get a bigger mattress, I want to chop off the sides of the bed to force our bodies closer. I want to hiss at every new person that enters the friend group to scare them off. Though all my queer loved ones are enlightened polyamorists, whenever someone I love starts texting someone new I fantasize about slipping away with their phone in the night, unlocking it, finding the new contact, and blocking the threat into oblivion.  I don’t do any of this, of course. But in my selfish, rotted heart, I want to be like Hannibal Lecter, drugging his patients and hypnotically conditioning Clarice to be in love with him. When I learned that Jeffrey Dahmer drilled holes into his lovers’ heads and filled the cavities with hot water and bleach to keep them from abandoning him, I could kind of understand it. And I hated myself for it.  I don’t actually have the stomach to be violent. My war with reality happens only inside. Besides, I know that if I were actually to try and control another person’s life, it would just send them running away. I learned that the dozens of times that I completed boyfriends’ homework for them, paid their rent, wrote cover letters for friends’ job applications, and inserted myself into fights that weren’t mine. I have tried to pull at others’ strings to keep them all happy and around me, but it only ever sent them running away, sad tangles of threads left round my fingers.  People like me must be why Autistics have a reputation for being cold-hearted, unfeeling, and unable to recognize the interiority of anyone else. I’m an anarchist in principle and a lover of my own freedom, so I would never wish to impose my will onto another person. I am terrified of the urges for control and permanence that lurk inside me. I’m afraid of where they might take me, and so I never give voice to them — In fact, I rarely give voice to any of my desires at all.  I let people do what they will without ever voicing my opinion. That’s the only way to truly avoid becoming the Dahmer in my mind. My method of control is to ask nothing, and give everything, hoping that one day another person will notice and choose to be devoted to me.  But even then, they’d change on me. It’s in the nature of all living things. 

I wrote about the Autistic fear of change, where it comes from, how it affects our relationships, and the many ways that we attempt to cope with change, both for good and for ill. It is free to read or have narrated to you on my Substack.

[shitsndgiggs]

„my boyfriend reacts to my instagram dms“ with kenan? 👀 i feel like that would be fun 😭

INSTAGRAM DM’s - KENAN YILDIZ

Kenan reacting to your DM’s

Kenan Yildiz x fem! reader

︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿

I set my phone up on the kitchen counter, hit record, and turn to face Kenan, who is sitting next to me, looking curious yet slightly suspicious.

I have a grin plastered on my face, excited to see how this is going to play out.

“Alright, babe, I hope you’re ready for this,” I say, barely containing my laughter.

Kenan’s brows furrow, his lips twitching into a hesitant smile. “Ready for what?” he asks, leaning back in his chair, already sensing trouble.

“We’re doing the ‘Boyfriend Reacts to My Instagram DMs’ challenge!” I announce dramatically, making sure the camera catches every second of his reaction.

His eyes widen immediately, and he chuckles nervously. “Wait, what? Your DMs?” he repeats, like he didn’t quite hear me the first time.

“Yes!” I reply with a giggle. “Your job is to just… react.”

Kenan’s face breaks into a mischievous grin. “Alright, alright, hit me with it. I’m not scared,” he says, though I can see his curiosity mixing with a hint of nervousness.

I scrolled through my phone, picking the first message that had caught my eye. Clearing my throat, I read, “Here’s one: ‘I’d swim across the ocean just to meet you.’”

Kenan snorted, unable to hold back his amusement. “Yeah, well, I hope he knows how to swim really well because that’s a long way to go for a rejection,” he quipped, shaking his head with a grin.

I burst out laughing, and he can’t help but grin. “Okay, okay,” I say, trying to compose myself. “Here’s another: ‘I’d love to see what’s under that pretty dress of yours…’”

Kenan’s face turns from amused to downright indignant. “Wow, okay. This guy… Just no. That’s a solid 0 out of 10, report and block. Like, does he think he’s smooth? Nah, dude, keep dreaming.”

I can’t help but laugh harder. “Alright, alright, calm down. Next one: ‘If I were your boyfriend, I’d never let you out of my sight.’”

Kenan’s eyebrows shoot up. “Oh, that’s real healthy. Stalker vibes, much? And newsflash, buddy, she already has a boyfriend who’s got a perfect balance between protective and giving space. Unlike you.”

I’m laughing so hard I almost can’t speak. “Alright, this one’s kind of spicy… ‘You should be with a man who knows what to do with you.’”

Kenan’s jaw clenches a little, and he huffs out a breath. “Oh, please. First of all, I’m that man. Second, what’s he gonna do? Take you to McDonald’s and tell you you’re special? Amateur hour.”

I laugh, nudging him. “You’re getting so riled up!”

Kenan smirks but there’s a protective edge in his eyes. “I’m not riled up. I’m just stating facts.”

I continue with the next DM. “‘I don’t usually do this, but I’d make an exception for you.’”

Kenan rolls his eyes dramatically. “Wow, you’re so special that he’s willing to break his ‘mysterious rules.’ How romantic,” he mocks. “Dude, get in line with the other guys who think they���re original.”

I shake my head, biting back more laughter. “Okay, here’s a bold one: ‘If you ever get tired of that guy you’re with, I’d love to show you a real good time.’”

Kenan’s face darkens with jealousy. “A real good time?” he echoes. “Listen, man, her idea of a good time is binge-watching series in her PJs, with snacks and cuddles. And trust me, I’m the best at that.”

I giggle, loving his serious expression. “Alright, last one. And this one… oh boy. ‘‘I’d give up my whole life just for one date with you.’”

Kenan’s eyebrows shot up, and he leaned forward, his expression full of mock concern. “Oh, buddy,” he said, pretending to look sad. “That’s… that’s just sad. I mean, at least aim for two dates. Show some confidence!”

I giggle a little at that, smiling softly. “Okay, you survived… barely.”

Kenan grins, still a little worked up but leaning back in his chair. “Oh, I did more than survive. I won. And these guys… they don’t even come close. Not even in the same universe.”

I lean closer, feeling the warmth in his voice, and he mirrors my movement, his lips brushing mine in a soft, sweet kiss that seems to erase all the silly DMs from memory.

As we pull back, Kenan gives a playful smirk. “You know, I think next time we should go through my DMs… just to be fair.”

I laugh, shaking my head. “No way, I’m not ready for that kind of drama.”

He chuckles, wrapping an arm around my waist. “Good. Because I have nothing to hide. And besides,” he leans in closer, whispering just for me, “you’re the only girl that matters.”

[twstfanblog]

What is your Yuu's relationship with everyone in the brothel au?

Oh LORD this is gonna be a long one. More under the cut XD Sorry this took me so long to get out!

Riddle- Felt really bad for him when he first entered the brothel because he was basically squatting with Trey to escape his overbearing mother. As of now, She and him look over the brothel's fiance records together since Riddle is educated and Crewel trusts him with the files. She teases him about Floyd clearly planning on marrying him and what kind of ring he wants (If he ever answered, she'd tell Floyd immediately).

Trey- Big Brother #1. She met Trey when she was a child and got lost in the city. Spent a few days with him and his family so she was elated when she found out he started work in the brothel. Very fond of Trey and does her best to not make his job too stressful for him (as she ropes his two fastest food runners into her side hustle and puts the kitchen behind on orders).

Cater- Has only met Cater a handful of times since he is a child of a noble family. But since he and Idia use the brothel as neutral ground to meet up, they have crossed paths. They are positively neutral to each other. Cater is embarrassed that he opened up one day on the issues he and Idia are facing and she fucking gushed about how he was literally living a romance novel plot. She now teases everytime they meet up if anything 'plot relevant' happened.

Ace- Partner in crime #1. Yuu has a side hustle of ripping customers off who try to purchase her for a night even though she's not an entertainer. Ace was the first one to join her and they've managed to rope Deuce into it too. Was honestly surprised that Ace knew how to do complex math when he told her he could.

Deuce- Partner in crime #2. Deuce doesn't really know how to treat Yuu since they were friends before he learned she was Crewel's child. So he'll speak normally to her than trip up and become very respectful until Yuu tells him to stop it. Finds it really sweet that Deuce sends 2/3 of his paycheck home to his mom and grandma.

Leona- Honestly, deeply impressed that he's managed to become the second most popular entertainer with having done NO WORK. They hang out every now and again, which is how Yuu learns before anyone that Leona has a FORMAL education which is something only noble children have access to.

Ruggie- Calls him a rat. Actually thought he was someone trying to sneak into the brothel without paying and knocked him off the fence with a very good throw and a shoe. Once Leona got her up to speed on who Ruggie was she just calls him 'Leona's Rat Boyfriend'. Has asked him if he wants a job in the brothel but Ruggie doesn't trust Crewel to not make it a life long contract without him knowing.

Jack- Jack only comes to the brothel to visit Epel on his week off from his guardsman job. She's watching the first-year poly all circle around each other, not realizing that they all like each other, and she isn't gonna tell them because its too funny to watch them.

Azul- Has been tormenting this boy since they were mid-teens. Azul confused her for an entertainer and just word-vomited about how he could take care of her and that he'd make sure she was the most gorgeous bride. Since then Yuu teases how and when Azul is planning on proposing to take her away from her life of toil and strife. She does like Azul and if he DID ask for her hand in marriage, she'd fuss at Crewel to actually think it over instead of rejecting the request without hesitation.

Jade- Cousin #1! Since the twin's mom was a former entertainer and one of Crewel's good friends, the twins visited the brothel a lot growing up. Once baby Yuu came around, she was like a permanent playmate for the twins. They affectionatly call each other cousins.

Floyd- Cousin #2! Too silly guys that Jade had to watch while their parents were talking. Now Floyd whines at Yuu about what kinda present he should get Riddle as a sorry for fucking him so hard he dislocated his hips.

Kalim- Depending on the part of the AU, Yuu hasnt met Kalim and has no idea who he is. But when he manages to find Jamil, they end up pretty close. Yuu unknowingly makes Kalim 200% more annoying by jokingly calling Kalim her 'future brother-in-law'. Kalim now keeps asking Jamil when their wedding is and if he can help plan it

Jamil- Yuu is so down bad for this man that it's looped all the way back into pure rizz and Jamil isn't sure how the fuck it's WORKING. Yuu got Jamil the entertainer job, convincing Crewel to not kick out the very clearly shady traveler with shifty eyes. Jamil is very fond of Yuu because she's been nothing but helpful to him even when he didn't fully realize it. This is an internal back-and-forth for him since his goal is to leave the city and create more distance between him and Kalim, but he does find himself wanting to either stay in the brothel and further what he and Yuu have going on OR make a new plan where he absconds with Yuu.

Vil- Annoying little sibling to Annoying older brother. Vil was what Yuu would call an ugly duckling of an entertainer. He fumbled for the longest time before Crewel finally took Vil under his wing and helped him fully accept his new role in life. So she did make fun of Vil a lot in the beginning of their relationship. But then Yuu realizes that Vil knows how to read and since he IS getting better at his job, Yuu gifts him some old books she wasn't interested in anymore. Only to ALSO find out Vil used to be an actor and he's missed it, so he'll do dramatic reenactments of scenes from the books and they bond. Vil actually takes Yuu with him to an afternoon theater show every time there's a free day in the brothel.

Rook- Actually hated him for a while because she was sure that Rook was going to buy Vil out of the brothel with how much he booked him. She's scared that if Vil left she'd never see him again and mainly focus that negative fear on Rook. Rook took it in stride seeing Yuu as Vil's younger sister who just wanted to keep her brother close. So he works to endear himself to Yuu in the time he has prepping for his sessions with Vil. Yuu got random little gifts from Rook as 'Tokens of affection' until Yuu finally yielded and stopped being outwardly hateful of Rook. As of now, they are on fond terms and tease Vil about how he has such a 'passionate future husband'.

Epel- Chaos Twin. Actually really happy when Epel requested to become an entertainer, because now she has someone actually on the roster to help with her scheme of ripping the customers off. Epel hasn't officially made his debut as an entertainer, but he's got two lesson plans; the one Vil made for him on how to do the job properly and the one Yuu made for him on how to sweet talk his clients into spending more money on him.

Idia- Doesn't know much about each other since Idia is pretty good at sneaking into the brothel to meet Cater. She does meet Idia randomly sometimes when he leaves he and Cater's room. Idia does ask Yuu if he's making the right choice in NOT continuing his and Cater's relationship into the public and just going through with the arranged marriage his family set up.

Ortho- Hasn't met Ortho. But Ortho makes a grand entrance to the brothel to tell his brother he is being DUMB and should just be with Cater instead of being miserable with someone he doesn't like.

Malleus- She met him when she was a child and thought he was so pretty that she exclaimed she was gonna marry him. Malleus thought it was really cute and agreed to her terms. But now, years later She hasn't seen Malleus in real life for some odd years. They mainly communicate through letters and it's mostly just Malleus info dumping about the newest sculptures he's seen. And the VERY RARE love letter that flusters Yuu to the point she has to shove her face into her pillows and scream.

Lilia- Fun Uncle Lilia! She jokingly states she's never seen him sober, since whenever he does visit Silver in the Brothel he at least drinks a bottle of wine before Malleus is taking him home. Lilia finds Yuu to be adorble and was very happy that Silver had someone around his age to grow up with while living in the brothel. (He is the reason Yuu tried wine as a two-year-old)

Silver- Even though they were basically raised together, they see each other as friend instead of siblings. Silver normally keeps to himself while Yuu has her nose is almost everyone's business. If the business is low and Yuu doesn't have any paperwork to do, she'll sit out in the garden and just watch Silver work. She talks enough for the both of them and things are nice and cozy between them.

Sebek- They still kinda hate each other. Sebek because he thinks Yuu is leading his Waka-Sama on. Yuu because she thinks Sebek is unfaithful since he slept with Epel when its very clear hes been trying to convince Silver to accept his marriage proposal and finally come back to the yokai woods with the other Diasomnia boys. After a while (and Sebek panicking that he really did ruin his chances with Silver) they talk and realize that Sebek is just poly and showing interest in the fucked up dynamic that the first-year poly is.

BONUS, THE TEACHERS

Crewel- PAPA ♡! Yuu adores her father and he loves her so much back. He's very protective of his baby and will ban and throw people out if he thinks they're ogling her. Knowingly turns a blind eye to her scamming cuatomers too stupid to read who is actually an entertainer from the book of names in the front room. Is the birth mother to Yuu, and she HAS ASKED who her dad is and Crewel has been dodging her question for the past near two decades.

Vargas- Uncle Vargas! Captain of the city guard and old friend of Crewel. He visits on and off during his week off every month, normally to just have a drink with Crewel. But sometimes he'll wrangle the entertainers into running a lap around the brothel just to check they're all 'healthy'. He has taught Yuu self-defense, and that's only because he didn't know what else to do to entertain a toddler. (Possibly Yuu's father)

Sam- MR. SAM!!! Sam is the fun family friend who visits every season to do trade in the city and deliver custom goods. He'd bring Yuu toys and snacks from different countries every season so she is very fond of Sam. Sam knows a lot more than he let's on about Jamil and Leona but doesn't say anything when they recognize him. If things in the city ever go south, Sam is the one who's ready to take Yuu and Crewel out of the city to safety. (Possibly Yuu's father)

Trein- GRANPA ♡! The tutor for the brothel that helps the workers who dont know reading and math learn. Was Crewel's personal tutor when Crewel was still a nobleman. He is disappointed that Crewel ran away from home became a whore in what he assumed was a 'tantrum'. He is proud of Crewel now, and even finds Yuu adorable when she was born. He is on the payroll as a tutor for basic education for the workers, but he gives Yuu and a few other entertainers History and Literature lessons if they show interest in the subject.

Crowley- Has only met Crowley in person a few times and it was when she a baby so she doesn't remember him at all. Was a business partner of the former brothel owner, he was fond of Crewel because of how intelligent he was. Fully claims Yuu as his child and sends Crewel letters asking about her. Crewel has no idea where this man is and he's pissed about it because Crowley dumped all his debts on Crewel after stating they were married. So Crowley is on the run outside of the city and Crewel is trying to lure him back in to be murdered face the music. (possibly Yuu's father)

[crazychaoticizzy]

Write Me Letters

You never expected to find someone that you could correspond with romantically. You never thought the poetic letters you wrote for a living would ever be exchanged with someone you were interested. Though, maybe Armin could be that person.

NOW PLAYING: “Write Me Letters” | Hot Freaks

ARMIN X READER

CONTENT: 20th century time period, Violet Evergarden and Divine Rivals inspired, fluff, war mentions, meet cute (i think?)

WORD COUNT: 4.1k

a/n: this was originally written for @kentopedia love through the ages valentine’s day event. uhm. let’s please ignore that this is a bajillion months later and also rylie if you don’t want to add this to the masterlist please do not feel obligated to i know this is so fucking late i’m sorry 😭

masterlist

AOT masterlist

You wrote for people who couldn’t.

It was your job. You worked for a company that sent literate writers wherever the customer wished and drafted manuscripts or wrote letters or transcribed trials. Anything the customer wanted, you travelled to write.

The most common was love letters. Any kind of letter, really, but you got assigned to write out confessions the most often.

At first you were elated. You loved doing this. You had dreamed to be a romance novelist once, but that dream was quickly squashed once you had been put to work in a publishing firm when you were sixteen. You had hoped it would give you an in to publish your novel, but your manuscript was rejected and burned by your boss right in front of you, and your pay was reduced by five cents.

You had no idea why, but you had a feeling it was because you were a girl writing trivial nonsense no one wants to read about.

You were the first to be cut from the payroll when the factory went bankrupt.

You’d lost your job and were nearly kicked out of the flat you lived in with three other people. You had tried cross dressing to see if you could raise your chances at getting another one, but your hair had fallen out of the hat you’d worn and you had done nothing but embarrassed yourself.

That was before an old friend of yours proposed an offer. Mikasa Ackerman, the distant cousin of a rather wealthy man with enough money to her immediate family to make it by with many luxuries. You’d met her one day in the late hours of the night on your way home. She had been canoodling with one of your dirt poor coworkers, and for you to keep it a secret she offered you anything you wanted. Of course, you asked for enough money to keep you comfortable for a month or two, and oddly enough the two of you became friends.

And then, in your time of need, she offered you a job. She’d shown up at your door one day with a wrapped box tied with a bow and invited you out. You accepted and the two of you walked to the park.

Once you had sat on a bench, she gave you the box. You carefully ripped at the seams to open it, feeling Mikasa’s dark eyes follow your every move.

After lifting the lid, your mouth fell agape, and you looked up at Mikasa.

The typewriter was beautiful. The mahogany wood was smooth beneath your palms and the metal keys were cold against your fingertips. It was a rather large, heavy thing, which gave you true insight into how strong Mikasa truly was.

“What’s this?” you had asked.

Mikasa smiled. “A typewriter, silly.”

“Well, yes. But why?”

Mikasa straightened (if that were even possible. Her back was always straight as a board) and folded her hands over her lap. “My mother is starting a business. She believes it would be nice if those that didn’t know how to write could send letters to those they care about. Even more, she has a friend that has recently become disabled, so they can no longer write. My mother would like to create a community willing to do that for those who can’t.”

You nod. You had heard about that friend MIkasa was talking about in the paper—an older woman who had lost her arm in a power loom, or something of the sort. You had seen the headline the other day and turned away, not wanting to know more.

“Anyhow,” Mikasa continued, “I thought you might like to work with us, since you don’t have a job.”

Something about the way she said that sent a pang to your heart. You should have expected it. Not only was it true, but Mikasa was always rather blunt.

You thought it over for a moment. What was the worst that could happen? You certainly wouldn’t lose any apendages or fingers, and surely you would make decent pay, right?

You nodded firmly at Mikasa. “Alright. I’ll take the job.”

Mikasa’s lips stretched into a soft, ladylike smile. “Wonderful.”

—

It was essentially your dream job. You got to dress in your finer clothes daily and write love letters and confessions. You couldn’t have asked for anything better.

But after years of sitting at a desk, it got tiring. Especially after the war.

It turns out the company wasn’t lying when they said their dolls went anywhere the customer wanted. Not to mention that after writing responses to the soldiers that were drafted got depressing fast. There was so much talk about unlikely futures and dreams that would never come true. It broke your heart, because you knew from your coworkers on the field that the receiver of the messages had already passed.

You were lucky enough to not have been sent. Lord knows how you would have ended up if you needed to travel to the front lines just to write. You’re sure you would have taken your own life before anyone else was given the chance.

But now that the war was over, you were tired. You were bored. Tired of writing letters for other people and bored of writing the same things over and over.

I miss you. Please come home safe. I imagine we…

And maybe some secret part of you wished you could put your own skills to use and write your own love letters to someone you admired. That was a desire you held deep down. You wanted to have a lover. You wanted to exchange letters with him and smile giddily whenever you receive a new one.

For once, you wanted to write for yourself.

But your workplace was mostly women. The only men that were consistently there were either married, entirely too old for you, or completely uninterested in even talking to you.

Until one day, a very slow and drab one, Mikasa strolled into the main building with a blond boy following behind her. You watched from your cubicle as the two of them went into Mrs. Ackerman’s office, trying to see if you could get an idea of why they were there for through the crack left in the door.

They both emerged a few moments later, and Mikasa led him into another room—the one that letters were stored in to be delivered at a later date. Mikasa came back out alone.

“Who was that?” you asked as she passed your desk. Mikasa paused, lifting her hands to crack her knuckles as she talked.

“Armin Arlert. He’s the new mail boy,” she explained, switching hands. “Mom says we need someone else since Eren’s getting overwhelmed by himself.”

You softly nod. Mikasa stays for a few seconds before she walks off. You look back down at your typewriter, flipping through a few requests until you found a letter you wanted to write.

Your phone rang just a few moments later. You picked it up and said in the kindest voice you had, “Good afternoon. You’ve reached the Shiganshina Letter Company. How might I assist you today?”

The old woman on the line spoke slowly. You hummed and nodded along to what she said as if she could see you. She was in a wheelchair confined to her house, so she couldn’t travel to the building. She requested your presence and, as stated in the company policy, you began packing up what you would need.

You stored your typewriter in its box and stowed blank sheets of paper in the pocket on the side. You lifted it from your desk, a feat that had become easier the more you lifted it and got used to the weight, and made your way out of the building.

—

She was a sweet old woman. Her graying hair was pulled into a ponytail at the base of your neck and when she let you in the first thing she offered was brownies and a glass of milk. You politely declined the brownies and milk, but when she offered a drink of water you felt it necessary to accept.

The letter she wanted wasn’t a love letter. At least, not a traditional or stereotypical one like you would think. She wanted you to write to her granddaughter, whose mother had recently passed away. You sat with her at the table and wrote, wiping your eyes with the corner of your sleeve as you pulled the paper out of the typewriter.

You handed it to the woman to read over, and were overjoyed when her eyes became teary and she sniffed. It always made you happy when what you wrote could evoke such emotion.

She held her arm open, offering a hug. You leaned over, careful not to lose your balance, and wrapped your arms around her softly. She asked if you could deliver, which you said yes to.

And now, back at the company building, you’re walking around the delivery room trying to find the correlating street address. You didn’t go into that room often, as Eren was always there to take letters that needed to be delivered, but Eren was off by that point. You were alone.

That’s what you hoped, at least, until someone came up behind you and said, “Can I help you?”

You startled, not expecting someone to be in the delivery room. When you turned you saw the blond boy Mikasa had brought in earlier, Armin.

“Oh, apologies. I didn’t mean to impose.”

Armin shook his head. “No, it’s alright. My shift is over, technically, so you aren’t imposing on anything.”

You softly nodded, a gentle smile gracing your lips. You remembered the letter in your hand and held it out to him. “Carnela Street?”

Armin took the envelope from your hand, reading over the address. “Oh, over here.” He tilted his head back up to meet your gaze and tilted his head for you to follow. “The system’s organized alphabetically by rows. A through D is that first one when you walk in.”

You nodded along, not quite understanding what he meant until he showed you. You made an O shape with your mouth when you realized, feeling a bit stupid at not being able to figure that out yourself.

You watch as Armin scans through the files until he reaches a drawer labeled Carnela-Draise and opened it. He dropped the paper in before closing it.

An awkward silence enveloped the two of you until you couldn’t take it anymore and gave him a sweet smile. You excused yourself and, cheeks heated and palms sweaty, turned around to walk out of the delivery room. You packed up your typewriter when you reached your desk and saw Armin again on your way out, where he gave you a small smile and soft wave.

You gave a curt nod in return before walking out of the building.

—

The first letter appeared on your desk a week later.

You thought it was nothing more than a request for you to draft something, but the scraggly writing on the front that spelled out your name told you otherwise.

You set it to the side and forgot about it until you returned to your dinghy apartment. It was small and fit no more than a twin bed and desk, but you had made well enough friends with the neighbors and oftentimes found yourself yearning for the comfort of the small room. At least it wasn’t crowded with other people, as you knew so many others were. That was one luxury you were grateful for.

You had placed your typewriter case on your desk and opened it. The corner of the letter poked out from the bottom, and you managed to wedge it out from beneath the heavy machine without having to lift it out of the case.

You opened it with your letter opener, a birthday gift Mikasa had given you when you first started working for her. It was made of fake gold and the handle had your full name and a rose carved into it. Honestly, you could have pawned it or sold it to some unsuspecting person for hundreds, but the fact that Mikasa had bought it specifically with you in mind made you keep it.

The letter was simple. Short and to the point the way you liked. You suspected that the writer must have asked someone about it.

While you enjoyed writing the flowery and poetic language you did, you never liked receiving it. You always doubted and found the double meanings that weren’t there. It was a misunderstanding waiting to happen.

I’ve found that your beauty has captured my attention. I shall like to get to know you. Might I take you out for dinner?

That’s what it said. It was signed with two curly A’s, and you wondered for a moment who it was from.

Armin, maybe? Though the written language seemed too refined to belong to him. He’d spoken to you rather casually during your last interaction, so it couldn’t possibly be him.

The next day when you walked into the office, you noticed Armin stepping into your cubicle with a square of paper. You stood by for a moment until he emerged, the piece of paper now gone. He turned his head toward the entrance and simply gave you a smile before sticking his hands in his pockets and walking across the aisle into the delivery room.

This time, you opened the letter immediately. You used your nail to pry up a corner and peeled apart the rest, leaving a jagged tear in the pristine paper.

We haven’t been properly introduced. I suppose I should have started with that. Please forgive me for being ungentlemanly and asking you out before even hearing your name from yourself.

The signature at the bottom confirmed the conclusion you drew the night before. The curved writing spelled out Armin Arlert. You found yourself leaning over your desk in an attempt to catch a glance at him in the delivery room, but he wasn’t there.

You grabbed a spare sheet of paper. You considered feeding it into your typewriter, but something drew you to pick up a pen and ink to write it out instead. It seemed more personal that way.

It was rather improper for you not to introduce yourself first. I’m sure Mikasa has told you my name, correct? No matter, I accept your invitation all the same.

You signed it with your name and folded it into threes. You quickly wrote his name on the front and walked across the way to the delivery room. You left it on a desk and walked out before anyone could spot you.

—

It was an odd correspondence. Neither of you spoke to each other, likely too nervous to stumble across your words or stutter out sentences you didn’t mean, but you wrote letters. They were lovely, well poised and written with increasingly beautiful prose. You were falling before you knew what was happening, and you found yourself pushing down a smile any time there was a new square of paper in your cubicle.

It took a while to set up the date Armin had asked you on. Tiptoeing around the subject and your unpredictable schedules didn’t come together well. Some days you were called to travel hours out of town, which always threw a wrench in your plans.

But you finally found a day. It was a Tuesday afternoon, the air crisp with the chill of fall and the leaves drifting in the breeze with vibrant colors.

He’d invited you to a small cafe. It was a narrow building, seemingly wedged into the extra space between two others, but the table you chose to wait at outside was nice. You sat with your hands folded in your lap, looking out at the street.

Armin approached you from your peripheral. You turned your head, softly smiling when you recognized his slightly tousled hair and blue eyes. He returned your smile, holding out a small bouquet of wildflowers to you.

“Good afternoon, Miss L/n,” he said as you took the flowers. He sat across from you, leaning forward against the table.

“Y/n is fine,” you said, your voice soft. The habits your mother drilled into your head as a child returned. Speak softly and sit with your legs crossed.

You glanced around, noticing the absence of a third presence. “No chaperone?” you teased.

Armin’s lips tilted up, and he let out an amused breath. “I was under the assumption that you would bring one. I can find one, if you’d like.”

You shook your head. “No. No, it’s alright. I’d rather not have one. It would make this more natural.”

You gave him a soft smile. Before you knew it, you were slipping into conversation with him like he was an old friend. Like he was your lover.

It was easy. Talking to him felt as natural as breathing. You didn’t have to force laugher or interest or smiles, it all just happened with him. You’ve never felt more relieved or energized in your life.

When the sun had gone down and the only thing lighting the street was the dim lights and you and Armin were the only ones on the sidewalk, he gently took you by the hand and stood up.

“Allow me to walk you home.” He smiled at you, running his thumb across your knuckles. “It’s late. I wouldn’t want anything to happen to you.”

“Alright. Although I warn you, I do live quite far.” You took his arm when he offered it, looping yours through his as you began walking.

“That just gives me more time to talk to you.”

“We’ve already burned through half the day talking. Don’t you tire of me?” You turned your head to him, quirking a brow and tilting your head slightly.

“I don’t believe I could ever tire of a voice as beautiful as yours.” Armin met your gaze. His eyes were clearer than a cloudless sky, the reflection of the stars shining in them. “Or a beauty as ethereal as yours.”

Your cheeks heated. You smiled and gave a flirty laugh, your hold on his arm becoming slightly firmer. “You flatter me.”

“I’m not saying anything that isn’t true.” He smiled sweetly at you. “I could talk to you for hours.”

You quietly hummed, averting your gaze to instead look down at the ground. Stray weeds grew between the cracks in the concrete. Despite the city’s rigorous upkeep, bright dandelions always managed to peek through.

A moment of silence passed between the two of you. In that short time, you replayed the day in your head. You noticed that Armin spoke more . . . refined. He talked to you with a voice more becoming of a rich man, one that contrasted the casual tone he used with you at the office.

“Is there a reason you’re speaking differently?” you asked.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, that day I entered the delivery room your language was more casual,” you explained, still looking down at the ground. “Now, however, you’re speaking more refined. There’s a poetic way to the way you’re talking, almost.”

Armin looked down at the ground with you. Even if you weren’t meeting his eyes anyway, he wasn’t going to take any chances of his gaze catching yours.

“You noticed?” His tone was teasing, and you let out an amused hum. “If you were talking to a pretty girl, you’d want to impress her, wouldn’t you? Especially if she’s clearly more educated and well read than you are.”

You smiled again at the indirect compliments. An odd flutter in your stomach alarmed you. You had been complimented before—why were his sending your mind spiraling with delusional images of a life with him?

“Thank you, though I assure you that I am not as sophisticated as you’ve made me out to be,” you said. You were no longer looking down at the ground, but you still didn’t turn to look at him.

“Are you not aware of the letters you write? The linguistic dialogue you use in them is beautiful.”

You finally turned to look at him, your eyes widened and your palms beginning to sweat.

“You’ve read my letters?” you wondered.

“Only one or two,” Armin replied. He lifted his head and met your gaze, a faint smile painted across his lips. “Mikasa’s shown me a few. She says she wished her lover sent her letters like those instead of one of her closest friends.”

You laugh, although you aren’t sure if it’s because you’re amused by what Mikasa said or because you now have the knowledge that he’s read what you’ve written.

Armin moved to keep walking, but the gradual stop in your steps made him falter. He looked at you curiously for a moment before realizing that you had stopped in front of your building.

“Well, thank you. Again, that is.” You tucked a bit of hair behind your ear, glancing away again. “I was always told in school that my writing was too flowery and confusing.”

“I think that’s the best part of it.” Armin smiled, stepping closer to you in the dim light of the street. “If you write it well to someone you know will understand it, then the recipient won’t misinterpret it. That’s the beauty of finding someone like you, don’t you think?”

You blinked at him, turning his words over in your head, before your lips stretched into a smile. You had never thought of it that way, but Armin’s insight only made you want to find that special someone even more.

“I suppose that’s true.” You look up at your building, realizing that you didn’t want to part with the blond quite yet. “Say, would you mind walking me to my apartment?”

You watched Armin’s eyes light up. The faint smile that seemed to have been permanently etched onto his face widened, and he nodded. “I would be honored.”

You don’t think you’ve ever been so happy in a single day. You’ve smiled more times than you were able to count talking to him alone and your cheeks were beginning to become sore.

You motioned for him to follow you. You gently pushed open the door and began the ascent to your floor with him.

You weren’t sure if it was an appropriate topic of conversation, considering the two of you had only met recently and didn’t know a great deal about each other, but you began speaking about soulmates. You said that if written language could act as a crafted secret between one and their beloved, then surely soulmates could be made.

Armin agreed with you, though he added his belief that there was a higher being that manipulated paths and made certain people come across each other at the right times. Maybe soulmates could be made, but there was still that line of fate.

Although you didn’t believe in fate or destiny, you hoped that whatever was out there had written a story for you where he was yours.

When you reached your apartment door, you slowly slid your key into the lock, hoping to postpone the inevitable moment where you would have to leave him and walk into your room. You placed a reluctant hand on the doorknob, running your thumb across it before looking up at him.

“Thank you.” It seemed as though that was all you were doing. “For walking up here, but also for the day.”

Armin flashed you a smile, bowing his head. “It was my pleasure. I quite enjoyed today and hope that you will accept my invitation for another like it?”

You hummed, feigning thought. “Will there be a chaperone next time?”

Armin chuckled. “Only if you want one.”

“I suppose I might entertain the idea, then,” you teased. You regretfully turned the handle and opened your door, wishing that you could invite him in. “Goodnight, Armin.”

When Armin gave you the last smile of the night, you found yourself wanting to kiss him. You wanted to brush your lips against his and taste the sunshine he radiated. You wanted to hold him close and thread your fingers through his hair.

Armin turned to walk away, but the soft call of his name stopped him.

He turned to look at you. “Yes?”

You ran your thumb across the doorknob again, searching your mind for the words. “You don’t need to talk fancy to win my favor. I’d rather get to know you.”

It’s clear that you caught him off guard, but that faint, ever present smile never diminished.

He nodded. “Good night, Y/n.”

You returned the nod, stepping into your apartment and clicking the door behind you.

You pressed your ear against the wood, listening to the sound of his fading footsteps as he retreated. When you could no longer hear him, you peeled yourself away from the door and dropped onto your bed, staring up at your ceiling with a star struck gaze.

Maybe flowery writing wasn’t all that bad.

please ignore that the writing style changed like halfway through i don’t know why that happened

anyways this is basically the start of my come back to writing because uhm. i kind of took a long unannounced hiatus from it BUT that’s besides the point ✨

i’m also scared i lost my writing sparkle please tell me if this was normal for me (if that makes sense) because i need validation

anyways hope y’all have a good day/night and that your pillow is always cool on both sides love y’all <3

🏷️ @arlerts-angel @ocean-armin if you’d like be notified any time i write for Armin leave a comment or DM me!

[le-panda-chocovore]

I told you guys I was going to write it

"No, you don't."

Toji's voice echoed on the walls and in Shiu's ears like an ineluctable truth. He stood still, arm crossed on his chest, staring at the middleman with an unimpressed look on his face.

"What ?"

"I said you don't," he repeated but it still didn't make sense to the Korean man. "You don't love me."

Shiu blinked and stayed silent. What was he even supposed to say to that ? What kind of rejection was that ? He expected many things from Toji, he honestly didn't think the man would accept his feelings easily, but this was more violent and weird than any scenario he had played in his head before confessing. He was so ready to handle Toji being on the defensive, claiming that he's not interested in men (despite them fucking every now and then, often after a job), that now he didn't know how to react to the man saying that he -Shiu- didn't actually love him. As if he was wrong about his own feelings.

It could be worse, Shiu thought. Toji could have laughed at him or called him a slur. That wouldn't be too surprising. Actually, that would be more realistic than Toji's actual reaction.

"What makes you say that ?" And, because the other man didn't answer the question, Toji felt the need to elaborate. "What makes you think that you have feelings for me ?"

"Huh," Shiu hesitated, because this was a weird thing to ask someone who just confessed.

It was embarrassing enough to fall in love with Toji Fushiguro -the infamous Sorcerer Killer- and it had been hard to gather the courage to tell him, and now he was supposed to justify his feelings ? Was this a prank or what ? Did he anger a god or something ? How did he even end up in this painfully ridiculous situation ?

"Well," he started and immediately looked away. Toji's insensitive stare was uncomfortable. "Hum, I guess I... I feel happy when you're around ? I mean, sure you're annoying, you're a sick bastard, but you still manage to make me feel better just by standing near me. I can't stop myself from looking at you whenever we're in the same room, I want to touch you and kiss you and talk to you. So... Yeah, things, like that, you know ?"

Toji hummed lightly. He hadn't moved an inch, eyes entirely focused on the man who apparently was insane enough to fall in love with him. Or to believe so.

Shiu was uncomfortable. He wanted to go home. He knew he'd regret confessing, he regretted having feelings even before talking about them. He had no idea what was on Toji's mind or what he wanted him to say, so he kept going, hoping that the man would finally stop staring holes through his soul like that.

"And, uh, when you smile... Fuck that's embarrassing- Hum, alright. When you smile or laugh it does something to my heart, I can't really explain it, but it feels good."

"That's it ?" Toji asked with a raised eyebrow. He didn't look convinced at all. "That's not love Shiu, you just find me good-looking, you don't have actual feelings."

Shiu frowned. He was getting frustrated and annoyed by that shithead's attitude. He didn't go through all stages of grief when he realized he was in love for that bastard to tell him he doesn't know what Love is. That was bullshit. He had spent a while wondering about his feelings, trying to hide them or deny them before finally accepting them. He wasn't an inexperienced teenager who didn't know the difference between finding someone handsome and being actually in love.

"You want more proofs ? Alright, let's go through this. I already started so I might as well tell you everything."

Shiu sighed and silently prayed to not blush while declaring all the cheesy thoughts he had about that motherfucker.

"I learned your favorite dish, and your favorite drink, and your favorite TV show too. I even learned how to cook it so you can eat it when you're staying at my place. I hesitated to buy something for your birthday, but you don't like celebrating it so I didn't do it. I also bought XXL clothes so you have something to wear when you come here unannounced and decide to stay a few nights. I actually want you to stay every night, and every day. I want to take you on a date, hold your hand when we're outside, share some food in a shitty restaurant because why not, go watch a movie and fall asleep against your shoulder cause the movie would be boring. I want to kiss you even when we're not fucking. I can't get enough of your lips, I want to taste them every hour of each day and to call you with a stupid petname because you're adorable and I fucking love you. And this is stupid, I don't even know why I'm talking so much, but you're doing this to me and I'm not going to pretend these fucking feelings don't exist."

He took a deep breath after blurting out all of this and tried not to think about how much he wanted to bury himself in the ground. He couldn't look at Toji, but he could feel that the killer was still staring at him.

"That doesn't mean anything," Toji retorted dubiously. "I feel that too and I'm not in love with you."

Shiu blinked.

"What ?" He turned his eyes toward the man. "What the fuck do you mean, you feel the same ???"

Toji sighed as if it was a stupid question. Shiu wanted to punch him because he was clearly not the one being stupid right now.

"Well, what you just said," he waved vaguely at Shiu. "That's what I feel when I'm with you. The heart thing with your cute smile and wanting to touch you 'cause you're warm. And your place is nice, there's good food and hot water, I wanna stay too. But since I don't have feelings, it means you mixed up love with something else."

Shiu stared with his eyes wide open. He opened his mouth, closed it, breathed deeply, and opened it again. Toji chuckled quietly, he thought he looked like a very confused fish.

Shiu was indeed confused. Confused about how the hell did that grown ass man not realize that he was madly in love too. He just said he felt the exact same thing, and he dared to claim he didn't love him back ? That better be a prank.

"...You find me cute ?"

Toji shrugged.

"Yeah, sometimes." He said that as if it was normal. Shiu wanted to kiss him. And punch him too, but perhaps after making love passionately with that huge dumbass.

"And you'd like to stay at my place ?"

"You cook well, and your bed is comfortable. Better than mine."

"What about holding hands and kissing ?" Shiu tried, confused but hopeful.

"Yeah yeah, I told you, it's all the same ! Well, maybe not the clothes things cause I don't have money to spend on it, but sometimes I take your stuff home cause it has your smell and I like that."

"..."

He didn't even have the words to explain to him how not normal what Toji just said was. He stared. The bastard stared back.

The problem was pretty clear to Toji, and it wasn't really a problem since he managed to solve it in two minutes. There was nothing to worry about. They didn't need to stop their little coworker with benefits arrangement and Toji was quite happy with that. He also found it kinda funny that Shiu really believed he caught feelings. The middleman liked to pretend he was the mature and smart one but sometimes he was really dumb.

Toji understood how Shiu felt toward him, like he said it was exactly the same on his side. If it was like Shiu said, that'd mean that Toji had feelings too, which was completely ridiculous. Toji wasn't a romantic man, but as far as he knew, love was more like . . .

Since they felt the same thing then-

And Toji knew he wasn't-

Which meant-

...Oh.

Well, fuck.

Maybe Shiu did love him after all.

[bluecatwriter]

28. How they feel about [insert character]

Jack -> Jonathan, Mina, Lucy

each he hasn't known for ages like he does the others! hope this isn't lots!

Ooh, thank you! I love getting lots of asks— it's enrichment for my enclosure. ;)

Jonathan: Jack first meets Jonathan the way we do, through reading his words, and he is smitten. He rightly sees and appreciates how incredibly brave Jonathan was during his time at the castle, and Jack is ready to meet the true embodiment of Strong Young Manhood. He's surprised when Jonathan turns out to be a "quiet, businesslike gentleman," but is already using physiognomy to determine that Jonathan is "uncommonly clever, if one can judge from his face." He's surprised, but not disappointed, and his admiration steadily grows over the course of the canon events as Jonathan proves himself to be everything Jack wishes he could be: singlemindedly devoted to an unselfish cause, passionate, fighting for his true love. I like to think that Jack's hero-worship hits an almost unbearable peak during their week waiting in Varna— with Jack crushing on Jonathan and badly flirting all the time (with neither him nor Jonathan realizing that his weird behavior is crushing/flirting) to the point where Jonathan wants to strangle him. I don't think Jack ever loses his starry-eyed view of Jonathan, no matter how many years pass.

Mina: Ah, Mina! She is the first female friend Jack has ever had, and so his mind keeps wildly trying to categorize her into a box that fits. They are best friends; they are soulmates; they are siblings; they are spouses from another timeline— his mind keeps rattling between all these options, with none of them quite fitting the intensity of his feelings for her. They get along great and trust each other with their hearts right from the beginning, but Jack also has a lot of patriarchal attitudes ingrained in him, and so his natural leaning toward treating her as an equal keeps getting sidetracked by his idea that she must be "protected." He would gladly die for her, or kill for her. He also would kind of like to be her...

Lucy: Jack's relationship with Lucy is one of my favorite character arcs of the whole book! I like to think there was a certain spark between them when they met, but it mostly took the form of Lucy being intrigued by him and Jack being amazed that a young woman was paying any attention to him (rather than doing what others had done, which was awkwardly excuse themselves from the conversation when he started staring at them). He immediately jumped from, "We can have a conversation" to "She should be my wife," and decided to propose while he had the courage, since he knew that she wouldn't be free for long. Getting rejected was devastating, but not unexpected; to him at this point, Lucy is more of an idea than a person: a chance at the heterosexually-married life he thinks he's "supposed" to have. The longer he's away from her, the more abstract she becomes in his mind. But then, but then! Arthur calls for his help, and he has to decide whether or not he meant it to Lucy when he said he'd be a friend to her. And he did mean it, and for the first time, he is seeing Lucy as a person, not as a hope for his own future. He's definitely not perfect in the way he handles every situation, but he sacrifices a lot of his time, effort, emotion, expertise, and blood in order to help her. He checks in on her between his full-time job; he sits with her while she sleeps to keep her from nightmares; he helps bridge the gap between Arthur, who's torn between Lucy and his father; he keeps silent vigil when Lucy breaks down crying. I think in a very meaningful way, Lucy is the one who teaches Jack how to love. I think that in time, they could have been really good friends. :'(

Thanks for giving me the chance to ramble!

(Ask game here)

[girlactionfigure]

AFFECT OF HAMAS FOOTAGE ON ME

LEE KERN

NOV 8

Only woke up from nightmares twice last night. I’m getting better…

Last week I attended a private press screening of footage from the Hamas atrocities. It was 47 minutes of footage recorded by Hamas themselves and captured on CCTV. You can read an account of it here. Attendees weren’t allowed to take phones or recording equipment into the screening. I had a notepad and pen. I sat down in my seat. The entire wall in front of me was a screen.

The film started. The footage was objectively distressing - but I was surprised and impressed with myself that I was immediately okay watching it. I was focused so hard on writing down what I saw that I wasn’t emotionally connecting with the footage. I didn’t have time. I had a job to do. I didn’t gaze too deeply at the HD quality images onscreen as I had to look down at my notepad to scribble notes. I felt like crying a couple of times - when they did something to a baby - or when they did something to a child - but I pushed that down to continue the job - and I was impressively okay. 

I left the screening not really remembering much of what I’d seen. I thought, “Oh wow - I got away with that okay. I can’t even picture anything I saw.”

Later I had a pizza and a walk along the sea front. I made a guy in a shop laugh. 

That night I burst into tears. 

The next day I had to go get a sim card for my phone and I pulled my hat low over my eyes as I burst into uncontrollable sobs while walking the streets. There was sunshine and people sat outside cafes and I was just unable to stop myself sobbing. Deep sobs coming from my chest and my eyes streaming. I sniffled like a child while walking down the street. I couldn’t make it go away. I thought one good cry would get it out my system, but more whimpers and tears just came out of my chest. I was whimpering. And there were images in my mind now. I remembered everything. I saw things Hamas did. Things I don’t have the language or life experience to compute. I was baffled. I don’t understand what I saw. But every part of my body on a cellular level was rejecting it as the most wrong thing that could happen under the sun. It was an accumulaton of every piece of evil since Cane killed Abel. Hamas had mastered the art of sin. And they had conquered morality. They stood in a place where humans were not meant to stand. Where they are no longer human. They were free of all human shackles. They had achieved a power that transcended human frailty but became monstrous in the process. 

Things went like this for the next few days. I’d break into an instantaneous sob. I often didn’t even have an image in my mind when I burst into tears. The screening would be mentioned and something in me happened that bypassed any kind of thought. My head would just bow in tears. I went to stay with some family. They picked me up and within ten seconds of being in the car I burst into tears when asked what I’d been up to. Being in a family home and around normal things was a useful antidote. But I’d still break into debilitating sobs when I recalled what Hamas did or if someone tried to speak to me about it. 

It was also confusing and annoying. I wasn’t depressed! But yet I’d break into tears. I didn’t understand it. I wasn’t depressed but I’d cry like a broken man.

I’d had no sleep since I got to Israel. That obviously didn’t help. I’d visited a kibbutz that had experienced a massacre. That didn’t help. But still I thought I’d be okay. 

The video fucked me up against me will. 

The human brain has built no immunity against the things Hamas filmed. 

It put some kind of splinter in my head. But simply being aware of that and wanting it to be out didn’t mean it would come out. 

I thought I’d improve as days went by but my outbursts seemed to be just as intense. I worried if things continued like this I’d have some kind of mental breakdown. 

I didn’t want to keep seeing what they did to that man.

I was also frustrated because I’d come to Israel to help and I didn’t want to be taken out of the fight with a mental injury. The particular skillset I have means I have to stay immersed in all the ugly shit. I wish I could just pack food for soldiers. If I can communicate well it’s because I’m sensitive and stuff flows into me. I become what I see. People have been demanding my time and I’m trying to help as much as possible but it was getting difficult to be useful to them or myself. In this spirit I didn’t have any macho pride. I’d openly tell people I wasn’t feeling great and didn’t feel shy if I cried in front of them. I didn’t really have a choice. I just wanted to try and find a way to temporarily shovel shit out of my head so I can keep being of service.

The other night I had to move accommodation. I hired an airbnb but then a friend of a friend offered for me to stay at their place whilst they were away. I cancelled the airbnb and I arrived at the accommodation. It was night and I met a neighbour who had the key. We went up the dark stairwell and everything felt off. It was a world of flickering lights and mosquitos. We stood outside the apartment as she searched for the key. There was this terrible noise above us. “What’s that?” “That’s the arabs upstairs drilling.” We went inside and the occupants had left the house a total mess. It all felt grim to me. And the sound of drilling continued upstairs. And the world felt like cockroaches. And I knew once the door shut behind me this would be the most awful night alone. So I plucked up the courage and overcame my politeness and said I can’t stay there. I called a friend and asked them to find me a hotel.

Whilst that was being arranged I waited in the apartment of the woman with the keys and her baby. Toys were everywhere. I was trying to politely respond to her conversation as a cartoon about trains was playing, but I was quietly managing a panic attack as I saw in my mind dead people on her floor amongst her baby’s toys and lying by the fluttering curtains. 

Arranging the hotel was taking time and it was getting late. 

In that time a family friend phoned and I started crying to them. Their daughter then messaged and said I could stay with them so I stayed at hers for the night, cried a few times in conversation, and had my first rocket experience - going into a safe room twice. I got about one hours sleep after trying to kill some mosquitos at four am.

The next afternoon I got a bit better because I tried not to talk about war things with people. I tried to give more territory in my mind to healthy things. I got an hours sleep in the day. I felt better when I transitioned from fear to healthy anger in a video - which was a relief because I was pushing my feelings outwards rather than crumbling inwards. I spoke to a lawyer friend who has worked on cases involving war crimes and has seen things. I got a good night’s sleep and felt good in the morning. I had a few moments of anxiety overcome me during the day. But it feels like they’re becoming less frequent and less powerful. I did cry again after speaking to a pair of siblings whose sister has been kidnapped and who asked me if I’d seen the video. When we hugged goodbye in tears it felt like the first real hug I’ve had since I’ve been here. 

A trauma therapist kindly arranged to see me for free. And time passing seems to be helping. I’m glad I reacted badly because it means I’m a normal healthy human being. A healthy person should be horrified. Only an insane or wicked person could be comfortable with the crimes Hamas committed. 

I don’t know what the language is yet to describe what I saw. I’m not sure what the vocabulary is. They did things that I don’t understand. I don’t understand how they did the things they did. I saw them do things and I don’t understand how they did it. To be able to do what they did is almost a superpower. It’s a superpower I don’t want. To be able to do they things they did and feel nothing but happiness. To be able to inflict that level of cruelty and be utterly indifferent to the people crying.

This is an account of how I’ve been affected. I wasn’t even there. I’m not even a family member of someone taken hostage. I wasn’t on a kibbutz hiding. I haven’t had to bury someone. 

God only knows how the victims will get through this. I can only hope He does know and He doesn’t keep it to Himself. 

We need to help the victims. There has to be an international coalition of love to help them through this. 

As for the terrorists?

I don’t believe in the death penalty, but I believe those Hamas involved in the atrocities have to die. I hope the IDF kill them all. I hope they die in the sun or underground in darkness. I hope they die awake or asleep. I hope they die by bullets or bombs. They cannot be allowed to infect the world with their actions or words. I still don’t understand what I saw in the footage Hamas shot. I can only repeat myself: there is no vocabulary for it. It is almost a superpower to be able to behave the way they did. A superpower I don’t want. To commit such acts of evil - such inventive cruelty - and to have no pangs of empathy or conscience. They look like us and they have hands and legs - but they’re not us. They have eyes but the windows into their souls go into a charnel house where they wash themselves with skulls. We can’t share this world with whatever they are or whatever is inside them. They didn’t open a gate to hell. They are hell. And hell smiled to see its work. They want to devour anything that is not them. Which is any human incapable of doing what they did to women, children and babies for thirty six hours.

They mastered the art of sin and it is something no human should have ever learned to do, because now there are monsters among us. We cannot share the planet with them.

[thecoolerliauditore]

Pearl is like that one friend who says their through with their toxic ex, but then the ex shows one kind gesture and immediately gets back with them. Like Pearl you deserve so much better than Cleo and Scott. During Pearl's entire episode I was freaking out when I saw Pearl and Scott near each other , like Scott get away from her 😭😭. (He's like one of those people who just make you cry just so they can confront you)

Praying Pearl realizes she deserves better and moves in with Gem and Joel or BigB. Then she kills Cleo and Scott

GET AWAY FROM HER GET A JOB 💥💥

all jokes aside the logical side of me has kind of forseen this since Real Life happened as non-canon as that is. Like Pearl uses every fibre in her being to insist she forgives Scott i.e. her saying she does at the end of DL and being courteous with him (despite the insane things he had to say) until Scarlet Pearl reared her head in SL. And despite her being labelled as the aggressor or insane she really is not the type to want to "rock the boat" and she really, really does want to be friends with Scott and Cleo again.

This just makes me wonder now how Scarlet Pearl will be utilized this season if at all, because this goes really well with her character arc in SL and her killing Gem (the person who actively encouraged her to embrace the vengeful, spiteful and violent side of herself more). A re-acceptance of Scott and Cleo without a confrontation is a rejection of everything Scarlet Pearl represents. I can't help but imagine that Pearl has locked that side of herself away for the sake of having her friends back, which is a really, really cool direction she's gone in that makes total sense.

^this is all very much aided by Scott and Cleo clearly still seeing her as the villain of DL, with how they reference what happened there in this episode and Pearl nodding along. I can't get over Cleo implying Pearl isn't loyal compared to the other people on their team. Insane people insane people playing this game.

The emotional side of me on the other hand is um killing people tonight with a hammer

[jooo-pl]

My Everything Too -- Minho x Fem!Reader

Word count: 1k

Pairing: Minho X Fem!Reader

Warnings: Obsessive Stalk, strangers to boyfriends, angst, fluff

The first day I arrived at the glade, I immediately felt the hormones of dozens of teenagers seeing what they knew as a woman for the first time. The first week was torture; they followed me around, asking if I needed or wanted something, or someone, clearly trying to make sexual advances. I rejected all of them, but that didn’t stop them. Instead, it seemed to encourage them even more, like a competition, as if I were a trophy.

I didn’t want to cause problems between them, and I definitely didn’t want any problems myself. In an organized mini-society like this, that could go very wrong. They might even banish me for causing a commotion, forcing me to die between the shifting walls of the maze—a constant nightmare that haunted me at night.

A well-known and respected guy here, Minho, realized the suffering that came with being the only woman among so many men without social limits. He was a Runner. Runners were popular, known, and praised for their hard work, facing dangers we couldn't even imagine. Considering that, I couldn’t understand his continued concern about the harassment situation with the other gladers. Though maybe "concern" isn’t the right word—it might be more like nervousness about the mess in the glade.

Even if he wasn’t concerned, that didn’t stop him from making me a proposal today that has me thinking.

"Hey, ____ I want to talk to you for a moment," he said with a somewhat cold expression.

"Sure, do you need me to take something somewhere?"

"No, nothing like that. I wanted to talk about what you’re going through with the others, you know, the mess."

Shit, I thought. I knew my presence would cause problems, but I didn’t expect them so soon.

"Uh, I’m sorry if the mess my presence created made you uncomfortable. I really didn’t mean to," I said quickly, trying to avoid a confrontation. He looked at me, confused.

"Well, actually I wanted to see if you needed my help with that."

"How? I don’t understand," I said, clearly confused.

"Well, you know, the only thing that can keep human animals like them away is if you already have someone, even if it’s fake. Do you know what I mean?"

"I think so," I said, trying to see if he was joking with me. "Are you sure about this?" I asked.

"If I’m offering it to you, aren’t I?" he said with a smile I’ll never forget.

After that, everything continued to escalate publicly, starting with conversations, holding hands, or hugging. But when that wasn't enough to keep the others away, we knew we had to go to the next level. We were starting to act like a real couple, or the closest thing to that within the situations we found ourselves in. His job didn't help either; he spent most of the day in the maze, and that was when the others tried to make advances on me. However, we continued to show ourselves in public at night. People began to wonder what we had, casting furtive glances toward Minho, expressing the envy they felt toward him, just for the sake of "having some kind of deeper relationship with me," something they couldn't aspire to.

"Do you think we need to show a more serious relationship?" he asked, pulling me out of my thoughts.

"I hope not, but I think so. Those guys don't care at all. I thought they would have stopped by this point."

We had seriously thought about doing things like kissing or touching each other in public. However, we both felt like we weren't at that level of trust yet. Surely, we had bonded and gotten to know each other a lot more thanks to this, and I appreciate it since he is an incredible person. But I can't help but feel like I'm using him. It's a thought that constantly appears in my head, tormenting me every time I'm around him.

"I think so. They are being very intense," he said with a hard and angry voice.

"I understand it a little, though. They don't know if they will ever get out of here, and since you're the only girl, well..." "But I would honestly like to meet someone who doesn't see me as a trophy," I said, lowering my head. I noticed his gaze becoming thoughtful.

"Well, surely you have a boy who wants to know you in all aspects."

I am shocked by the statement. Maybe I'm just overinterpreting it. He's just a good person who wants to help me with the bullies in the glade, right?

"If you know someone, please send it directly to my email, I will respond, rest assured," I say, trying to joke despite the nervousness that invaded my body.

"Would you do it?" he says with a voice that sounds... flirtatious? I can't quite explain it; I guess that's just his essence.

"Look, I want to be clear with you. I've definitely felt something more than friendship in the time we've been talking. It wouldn't be a problem at all for me to continue talking to you. I want to protect you, I want to love you, I want to know you, I want everything if it's with you. Maybe it sounds very intense, I know, but I had to say it. I couldn't keep that inside."

He quickly makes his confession, leaving me stunned, practically paralyzed. I look at him, trying to shake off the feeling of being frozen. I had to answer him. As I look into his eyes, I see that I feel the same. His pupils show affection, and mine reflect it in the same intense way. I could only realize that I felt exactly the same. I wanted to know him. I wanted to talk to him and know everything about him. Above all, I wanted to be everything to him. I wanted to let him do that. I wanted him to be my everything too.

And at that moment, I knew the only thing I could do was show him, so I kissed him. "I feel the same," I say in few words, giving him all the hope he needed to keep going, day by day.

Not my gift

[the-knight-of-the-stars]

Soon the world will be ours

Fictober Trope: Uma/Jay — I Have Nothing by Whitney Houston —Urban Fantasy AU

Part I: What me, a traitor?

School nights were always strange. No matter how mundane, there was always a strange, volatile feeling floating between the traffic noises, the barking of the dogs and the chirping of cicadas. As if such a moment had magical properties of its own. A particularly crude kind of magic, with the smell of car oil and old paint peeling from the humidity.

Uma was sure that in a small, remote town like this, the feeling was due to abandonment. It slowly took over the houses and the people, and left a vague premonitory feeling that one day no one would remember this place, it would remain as nothing more than a ghost in their memory.

On a Friday like this, six thirty in the afternoon, trying to understand the complicated words in her textbook, the orange sun of the sunset beating down on her face, Uma feeling the proximity of the night tickling the back of her neck. A Friday like all the Fridays in the world, all coexisting at that very moment.

“Due to the multi-diverse nature of a supercomposite spell, all original components must be taken into account both individually and collectively, and how each set interacts with its components to create a new product.”

Instead of concentrating on the assignment, Uma often found herself wandering about the complicated nature of these texts, wondering how the people who wrote them had learned all that and then decided that redundant words and confusing phrasing were the correct way to convey the information.

Uma threw her book into her backpack and peered through the cracks in the blinds. The sun had set, and Uma felt a surge of voltage zip through her chest. In the dim light of her room, the posters of horror movies and pop band albums were distorted by the dim light, shifting watercolor shadows. Uma threw her jacket over her shoulders and bounded down the stairs.

“Uma! You better not run out like that tomorrow, I told you I need you to take the night shift,” the voice of her mother, Ursula, came from the cracked pool in the backyard where she spent her afternoons in her octopus form, trying to reach the sensation of the waves in that lime-smelling water.

Uma opened the front door with more force than necessary, making noise so her mother would know she had heard her.

“And those dishes ain’t gonna wash themselves!”

Share my life Take me for what I am 'Cause I'll never change All my colors for you

The entire galaxy spilled out into the sky. Uma tried to mentally name every color in the night sky as she sped along on her bike, dodging potholes as the wind whispered the neighborhood gossip into her ear.

Turquoise, purple, royal blue. Flush! The clouds seemed to melt between the stars like colorful cotton candy. Tina still hasn't picked up the laundry from the dry cleaner. Ahead were the downtown stores with their buzzing signs and the apartment buildings lighting up window by window. Pastel pink, mint green, scarlet red. Johnny wants to quit his job.

The familiarity of the city squeezed her heart like one of her mother’s hugs. Invasive, uncomfortable, deeply comforting. She wanted to pull away immediately and reject the warmth, but it was too comfortable, too sweet in all its suffocating nature.

A Friday like every other Friday. The buildings were grey, their windows emanating the warm amber of the interior. The shops were colorful and children with sticky hands escaped from their mothers to peer into the shop windows. New televisions were displayed next to outdated models of never-sold vacuum cleaners.

On the avenue, middle-class kids passed by, crowding around Anthony Tremaine's yellow convertible. The extra-large horns blared and made everything jump. The old man from the butcher shop came out in a huff, shouted a spell in Latin at them, and the yellow car swayed as if a giant hand had shaken it.

Uma turned into an alley between buildings and braked. The metal door, hidden between the trash cans, was closed, so she knocked into it hard. Desirée opened it, a scarf in her hair and a tray under her arm.

"It’s rush hour. You’ll have to take the service stairs, boss,” she said.

Inside, steam from the stove made the waiters sweat and grease from the fryer stuck to the walls. Uma crossed the kitchen and ran upstairs, where the noise from the cafeteria grew old and distant.

Harry had his head buried in wires, a pen behind each ear. He reached for the screwdriver and scratched his head, trying to remember which wires to save first if the circuits had been compromised. The constant beeping of the power center was starting to drive him mad.

“Shut. Up! ”

“Harry!”

He jumped up, inadvertently dropping pens, paper notes, wires, and tools onto the floor. A screw rolled to Uma's feet. She closed the door and picked it up. She had already put her gloves on, Harry noticed.

Take my love I'll never ask for too much Just all that you are And everything that you do

“Missing me?”

“Uma,” he said, his crooked grin reaching down to his pointed, dented ears. “What are you, an evil elf?” Uma had said to him the first time they’d met. “No, sadly,” Harry had replied. “I’m only human.”

Still, Uma was sure there was some spooky mysticism to him. She liked that.

“Are we all set?”

“I don't do tools work, and they left me alone,” Harry replied, emerging from the nest of cables he had found himself in, grumbling.

“ Chill. Gil is on his way.”

“It’s been unbearable,” Harry continued, shaking his head.

Uma dropped into the swivel chair in front of the main panel and looked at the screens that filled the wall and illuminated that room of sad objects and forgotten dreams. Shadows of boxes looming between the computers. One, two, three screens out of service. That left them with two channels unreachable.

But at least four monitors were transmitting the desired images. Live television projecting its greenish light dots across the thick screen. Romance movies, animal life documentaries, a report on the governor of Camelot. The usual for Auradon's open television.

She smiled as she identified the target for the evening. Auradon TV, the only channel that all televisions on the Island tuned into. The only one the Isle's population could access without hacking and piracy. They were now broadcasting their usual afternoon gossip show, recounting all the drama between Princess Melody and the outdated dress she had worn to the most recent ball.

Adam kept saying the reason no other channels reached the Isle was an inescapable peculiarity of the air around that zone. They would fix it, eventually, even if they haven’t been able in more than ten years. Now Uma knows for sure it is a lie.

How perfectly convenient. The population he wants more eagerly to keep isolated stays in the dark, unable to learn anything about the outside world. The only window to the rest of Auradon being the mindless, carefully constructed view they want them to have of them. Another gear on his propaganda machine.  

But if Adam won't give them more windows, Uma will poke as many wholes as necessary.

“How long until the transmission loads?”

“I'm not sure, love. If Gil were here…”

“Relax, Harry,” she said, and was surprised by her own optimistic tone. “We can wait for him.”

She sat back on the chair, caressing the surface of the keyboard. Any of the channels Gil had gained access to would do. They were all knowledge, and it was their mission to give it back to the villain children, piece by piece.

I don't really need to look Very much further I don't wanna have to go Where you don't follow

Harry scooted his chair over to Uma’s and dropped his head into her lap. “We make a mess tonight, darling.”

Uma pressed her forehead to Harry's. His skin was dry and cold, contrary to her, cheeks flushed and hair warm from the last sunset rays. His hair still smelled like the damp, dense air of the lagoon. Through it, Uma could picture his father's boat; heavy, worn out fiberglass, rocking in the clogged murky waters, the bitter smell of alcohol and resentment of its walls.

“You bet we do.”

She pulled away, and with her finger traced a sigil over his face, his chin, his nose, his forehead. For a second it sparkled, like miniature fireworks between them.

“What was that for?”

“Protection,” Uma said. “There's been more vandalizing lately, I don't want you to get cursed.”

It was almost true—Hook's ship was already covered in sigil graffiti everywhere—but if she's being honest, Uma hoped the sigil would also scare away the deadly melancholy that plagues his father.

Harry stayed still, staring at her.

“What?”

Harry smiled. “Your face… it shimmers.”

“You pick today's program,” Uma answered, rolling her eyes.

Harry’s eyes glowed and widened like a cat’s. The greenish lights of the monitor loomed over him, accentuating the shadows of his smile. “A horror movie!”

“Perfect,” Uma said, letting out the shadow of a laugh. “Just in time for Halloween.”

The door busted open. Gil walked in with an electrifying grin and pounced on the available chair, sliding over to where they were. His hands and face were covered in car grease, his faded Sherwood Forest Falcons shirt permeated with the smell of gasoline.

“You guys are not gonna believe who I just saw outside!”

“You were supposed to be here hours ago!” Harry exclaimed, getting up and gesticulating toward the screen.

Gil's smile seemed nailed to his skin with how stretched and immovable it was. Harry's words flew over him.

“Carlos de Vil!”

Harry's eyes went white in an expression that was half nervous twitch, half sneer. Uma just stared, very still.

“Really?” she said.

“He was just walking with Professor Yen Sid on the street! I told Jonas to follow him, we should kidnap him!”

That caught Harry's attention more. He smiled and shook Gils' shoulders, excitement growing on his chest.

“Aye, that's a great idea! We could broadcast him to Auradon and scare the whole bloody kingdom off their skin…”

The tinge of anger in his voice lit a spark in his eyes, and he stood up straight, triumphant in a sort of superhero pose. Uma could feel all his illusions, flying around in a whirlwind inside his head.

“We could…” Uma whispered, tapping on the arm of the chair.

But something worried her. Her eyes narrowed in thought. Carlos de Vil. Yen Sid. They hadn't heard anything about it, neither on the news channels nor on the gossip channels. Why would he come back?

Carlos had his precious passport, a scholarship at Auradon Prep, and a life that had been as far removed from the Island as humanly possible. The mother he left behind has long since sunk under the weight of her own bitterness. The town had forgotten her, along with the ramshackle house with rusty hinges and rotten wood that the blizzards tear apart little by little, and where Cruella remained as if the house had become part of her.

There's nothing left for Carlos here. Nor for any of them.

“He didn't come alone, did he?” Uma said, unable to stop the anger seeping into her voice. “They must have come with him.”

As if responding to that omen, the small transmitter hanging around Harry's neck began to make noise.

“… oss I… th …” a voice started to come through the wall of static, and Harry ripped it off to move the antenna.

“First Mate here, over.”

The static answered her, ominous in the deathly silence their nervousness had created. Uma held her breath until they heard the click on the other end.

“… nas here… er you, over.”

Jonas's voice was much clearer now, and Uma immediately noticed that he was whispering. Like he was hidden.

“Captain…” Jonas said, breathing slowly over the radio. “Just spotted Jay in a bar…”

I won't hold it back again This passion inside Can't run from myself There's nowhere to hide

Her heart dried up and tightened like a raisin. It felt stupid, to care so much. Gil and Harry's faces told her everything, trying to hide the disappointment they still felt like a sore that never fully healed.

The veil of years and forgotten dreams passed before her eyes like the halo of a ghost. A sentimentality that she felt ashamed of still treasuring, in the memory of eyes and a laugh and a voice that were no longer there. He might as well be dead, with how much his absence had penetrated.

And it was strange, how far away it felt. Uma remembered the greenish light of the store filtering in distorted halos through the fish tanks. The shadows of Christmas lights that were never taken down, gathering dust between the old cat cages. The glitter-covered plastic floor and the ghostly sight of the life-size cardboard cutout of King Adam by the cash register.

She remembered arriving with nervous aggression, squeezing his house keys in her hand until they made indentations on the palm. He saw her first, through a space between the fish tanks. He was smiling when Uma looked at him.

“You have my mother’s eels,” she had said coldly, without any pretense of formality.

It had taken Jay a few seconds to react, staring into her eyes.

“Hey, the name's Jay.”

He was leaning against a shelf of fish food, a half-smile slightly crooked by a fresh cut in the middle of his lip. He was all ragged baggy jeans and frizzy strands of hair over small, mischievous eyes.

“Don't worry, I'm a great eel dad,” he said, raising an eyebrow with that ridiculous, charming smile.

He spent the afternoon in the back room of the pet shop convincing her that the eels were safe with him and was not intimidated by her stoicism. He was energetic, daring and shameless.

“You could say we have an electric bond; do you feel me?”

The first thing Uma thought of him was that he had a stupid laugh, muffled by a teenage cough and infinitely confident. The second thing was that Jay gave off the same chaotic air as Harry. A strange aggression barely contained in the tension of his muscular arms. Jay handed her a handful of powdered eel food for the two of them to throw into the fish tank. Lagan and Derelict put their snouts to the glass as soon as Jay approached them.

“Check it out, they love me already,” he said, genuinely excited. “You see, I happen to be a professional heartbreaker.”

He gave Uma a wink, and she allowed the shadow of a smile to pull from her lips.

Uma is still not sure why she came back many times after and sat on the plastic box next to the empty cages that smelled of wet dog, feeding the eels while Jay flirted tirelessly until the heat of the evening steamed the puddles on the floor and the place became stifling.

Harry's initial jealousy only exacerbated Jay's brazenness. He waited for her outside school, biting his lip, anxiously awaiting the moment when he could jump into a spot next to them on the sidewalk and steal some attention.

“What a coincidence to see you here, must be fate.”

“Hey, gorgeous, I thought I could come by and bring you this super cool ring I found, you know, it just reminded me of you.”

“If I ever find that damn lamp, I'm going to wish to be the earth you step on, sweetheart.”

They never knew when the distrust faded. Harry began to let go of the initial bitterness through the fake fights he had with him, in which Jay was unable to take anything seriously and Harry took everything with great personal seriousness. Punches turned into laughter and accidental enthusiasm for the same things.

In no time Harry was all over Jay. Hugs that from the outside looked a little too restraining, hands casually resting around his neck. Always with his hands on him. Invasive affection still tinted in aggression, but unmistakably friendly.

Gil was charmed from the start. He would laugh at Jay's bad jokes and give him a pat on the back that took all the air out of him, until they were both pushing each other.

“Bro, you should do parkour with me!”

It was a terrible idea. But Uma had never seen Gil so excited, even when he fell off roofs and slipped off walls a hundred times. Afterwards, they sat in the park with its rickety swings and yellow grass, their faces covered in bruises, sharing a comically large bag of cheap snacks that tasted like cardboard Jay had stolen from Facilier's store.

Don't make me close one more door I don't wanna hurt anymore

Jay fit in with them like a piece they didn't know was missing, slipping slowly through the cracks until he penetrated their barriers. Suddenly, he was there. Another body to hug, another loud voice, another name ever present in the back of their minds. His aggressive energy matched their own, growing and boiling until they were drunk in it.

Professional thieves wrecking everything on their path. Jay, enthusiastic show off and seasoned kleptomaniac, would get them in trouble constantly, getting too comfortable in his craft and stopping mid-chase to collect anything shiny he thought Uma would like. But he would always come through; he was good at it, terribly, stupidly good. It seemed there was nothing he couldn't get away with.

It's probably one of the first things that caught Mal's eye (another ghost from Uma's past, another rip in her heart), and made her want him in her gang again, like when they were little kids. Uma never thought he would take up her offer.

That's how secure their wrap felt. Living in a haze of blood and party and recklessness that for some inexplainable reason was the safest place they knew.

An irrational, resentful part of her thought she should have known. After all, Jay was raised to be a snake.

But it is hard to reconcile it. For a second, their lives had felt tethered forever, and maybe they still were. With how much his ghost still lingered, despite their best efforts to ignore it.

Stay in my arms if you dare Or must I imagine you there

There is something unforgettable in the way Jay looked at her. Like all misery was worth looking into her eyes. Uma was made of rough edges, a bellicosity deep in her bones that made her hungry for power. Back then, Uma couldn't understand the depts of that anger that threatened to break her apart.

But Jay had. He pushed back her, dug right into her spikes and revealed in her darkness, seeing through her and wanting her with every fiber of his being.

“I know you love me, babe,” he would say, getting his face too close to her and laughing ecstatically when she grabbed his chin in an iron grip.

Uma didn't want to think about how much she had liked it. That pull and back that turned into attachment that turned into yearning. Uma doesn't know when it is she let Jay invade her every breath. Her mother's indifference, the phantom of the family's greatness, the wound of having been born helpless; it all disappeared under his touch. And for Jay, she made the devastating anger and the parasitic loyalty to Jafar and the helpless prospect of the future all turned little.

This youthful, blurring love affair was all that existed. Uma still has his adoration burned into her mind. Carnal, careful touches over the stiff sheets of her bed, her lava lamp barely breaking through the hazy darkness of that night, starts and ashes of magic floating all around them. Reverence glimmering in Jay's eyes, amid this suffocating intimacy, kissing her neck and stroking down her legs and whispering, “Uma… Uma… Uma.”

Like he needed to summon her at every second. Like her presence was as fleeting as a sea wave, and Jay would cling to her, desperate to inhale her for as long as she would have him.

Harry could never forgive him for hurting her. For not answering Gil's calls. For leaving them. Like her, Harry still has Jay's kiss tattooed on his skin.

This hatred and hurt that now blinded them, as the static on the radio kept buzzing, a blur of past present and future liquefying on the blinding blue glow of the screens, it could only come from something just as strong. And maybe that was the worst part of it all:

It had been real.

And he still had left.

“Jonas,” Uma said, voice firm as iron. “Size the little birdy; he has a show to perform.”

Don't walk away from me I have nothing, nothing, nothing If I don't have you, you, you, you, you, you

***

This is strange, right? I'm still trying to strech my abilities after a long health issue that prevented me from writting, but I liked this.

Okey, hi, thanks for reading. This was one several drafts I left abandoned last year when I was trying once again to do fictober (that is clearly not for me) but I thought this October I would try to come back to them. Basically I put spotify to reproduce songs from my playlist on a random order and the first four would be paired with whatever character/ship I thought of first.

Some really unique ideas came from that, such as this one. The flavor of the song inspired me to make an urban fantasy amd I tried to give it a kind of an 80s coming of age romance feel.

This has two other parts planned, exploring more of Mal and Jay's perspective. Tell me if you would like to see those and the other songfics I had, and what you think of this weird little thing I made.

[panda-writes-kpop]

A/N: Happy Halloween!! I'm spending my day in classes and then doing homework afterward 🥲 but at least I'll get to dress up and be comfortable for one of my favorite holidays of the year! 💖

TW: Physical and emotional bullying, specifics about reader's talents and background are given, kinda sad but kinda happy(?)

Acknowledgments: Inspired by the Wednesday Netflix show (yes, I've been holding this fic for a WHILE it was too perfect for Halloween), and the following works by my friends inspired the universe and its characters: @kingmaker-a Ecdysis, You're A Keeper, and Logistics of a Cat; @foolish-sparrow Felix Votum; and @sanccharine mishaps gone right series, and @neon-city-dreams for being awesome <3

Summary: Your bad relationship with your peers causes you to come face-to-face with one of the most brilliant Ravenclaws, Dami. You're afraid that she's just as judgmental as the rest, but through time, she proves to be one of the most important people in your life.

♡ Masterlist ♡

"Hey, give it back!"

You tried reasoning with the young Slytherin members, but nothing worked. Perhaps being more strict would do the job?

The eldest boy sticks his tongue out at you as he tosses your art notebook to the shorter, younger boy.

"Let's see what kind of weird things the muggle writes in here."

You wince as he starts to flip through the book. After going through a few pages, he laughs before pointing at a drawing of yours.

"Wow, you really are obsessed with that Lee Dami girl, huh? You wouldn't mind if I told her that on your behalf, right?"

The youngest boy runs into the Great Hall as the oldest laughs like a wild maniac. You nervously bite your lip before running after the shortest boy.

"Yeah, go get 'em, squirt!" The eldest boy teases as your legs fail to carry you remotely close to the young boy.

He stops at the Ravenclaw table, right where Dami is seated. You try to, as calmly as you can after running what feels like an Olympic marathon, approach the table and remain calm.

"Hey, Dami, you wanna see something neat?"

You cringe as the boy hands her the notebook. She carefully handles the notebook before looking up at the boy.

"Is this yours? Why are you handing it to me?"

"No, it's theirs." The boy points over his shoulder at you, and you do your best to calmly wave as you try to tame the wild beast that is your rapidly beating heart.

"Then why do I have it?" Dami nonchalantly asks, and a few Ravenclaws around her giggle at the boy in front of you.

His ears turn red as he huffs and slightly turns toward you. You brace for impact as he storms towards you, but you're surprised when he puts on a brave smile and harshly wraps an arm around you.

"Tell her this is one big misunderstanding and that she can look through the notebook, alright," The boy loudly says before leaning closer to you, "otherwise I'll make the rest of your stay at Hogwarts a living hell."

You nervously laugh before slapping the boy's back as friendly as you can appear to be.

"Of course she can look through it!" You say through gritted teeth, and the boy shoots you a deadly glare before you push yourself away from him. 

Dami looks at you for confirmation, and you feel your face heat up as you nod at her.

You start mentally planning your funeral as soon as Dami touches the cover. You might as well make plans to move to Africa, where no one knows who you are or what your face looks like.

Perhaps that wouldn't be the best idea since you weren't the most multilingual person, so America would be a better fit, right? You could send an owl to your parents, and they'd figure out the details for you! That'd be great because the Wizarding school there is just as good as Hogwarts, plus you'll never have to face Dami again after she ultimately rejects you because what reasonable person would want a loser like you who can't actually verbalize their feelings and instead draws them from every possible angle and OH MY GOD SHE THINKS YOU ARE A STALKER YOU NEED TO VACATE THE AREA IMMEDIATELY WHAT ARE YOU DOING-

"I-"

Dami pauses after she closes the back of the book. You say a prayer to as many deities and saints that you know as you hope that she'll reject you kindly and you can instead live out your days at Hogwarts in shame without having to move to another country.

She looks up at you before a prominent pink blush settles on her cheeks. She clears her throat before readjusting her glasses as your tormentor closes in on Dami.

"So, what did you think? That art is so stalker-ish and lame, right? You'd never want to be with someone like that, huh."

He triumphantly folds his arms as Dami's sweet, deep voice hits your ears.

"I think it's sweet."

"What?" The boy says in utter shock as his eyes are nearly about to widen past their capabilities.

"What?" You softly repeat as you feel lightheaded.

No, she was supposed to reject you and laugh at you, right? When was this a part of the horrid fantasy that you created 30 seconds ago?

More importantly, when did the room start spinning?

The last thing you remember was Dami calling out your name as you felt your body being tugged towards the floor.

~

Although your confession wasn’t anything like your dreams, it managed to land you in Dami’s favor, and now you’re on a date with the girl who you’ve been endlessly doodling in your notebook.

This moment, you decided, was one of two things.

Option A.) A cruel joke by the universe, in which one of your peers would jump out of a nearby bush with one of those muggle recording devices, and your life would return back to normalcy.

Or Option B.) You’re somehow dreaming still, and you probably need to see the headmistress because dozing off like this isn’t good for your health or your grades, and you know what your mother will say when your grades start to slip-

“Hey, are you alright? You’ve been staring off in the distance for a while…”

Dami calmly observes you as you nervously shift on the picnic blanket.

“I’m okay… I think.”

You mentally scold yourself before nervously playing with a strand of your hair. Dami sweetly laughs before placing a hand on your shoulder. That part of your body heats up, and your internal body temperature rises about 5 degrees as you feel yourself start to sweat.

What a pair the two of you were.

The brilliant scholar, the one who was a prodigy at everything she tried. The radiant Ravenclaw who managed to excel in every subject and charmed her peers and professors along the way.

And then there was you, the tortured artist. The mockery of your peers was a constant negative force in your life, and you always had your head in a sketchbook or notebook.

She was the strong sunshine, constant and unwavering, and you were a waning moon, ready to disappear to make room for something greater.

Yeah, this was definitely a pity date.

“Are you sure you’re feeling well-”

Dami’s ever-so-gentle with you, as if every last word would break your body like a glass figurine shattering when it hits the floor. You’re scared, sure, but you’re not that much of a wimp, right?

“Dami, I-” You pause to chew on your lip before gently reaching for her. “I really like you, and I’m scared of ruining this date because I think that you think that I’m a freak, just like everyone else does!”

You slap your hand over your mouth as Dami begins to rub your back. You bow your head in shame as you feel her free hand touch your extended hand.

“I don’t think you’re anything like the other kids say you are. That’s why I wanted to come out here with you. I want to find out who you truly are,” She offers you a warm smile as you dare to look up at her, “and if it makes any difference, I really like you too.”

“You do?” A sea of hopefulness floats into your voice as you tentatively smile.

“I do.”

Your eyes widen, and you let go of her hand before wrapping both arms around her. Dami looks startled for a moment before she laughs and wraps her arms around you.

Maybe this year would be different, just like your mother had said.

~

“Do you have the notes for Potions?”

“You weren’t paying attention?” Dami teasingly asks Lia before sorting through the books in her arms. “Color me surprised.”

“Don’t give me the third degree. Ryujin already did that.” Lia scoffs as Dami hands her a few sheets of paper from a book.

“Ryujin sleeps in class almost every day.”

“That’s what I said!” Lia exclaims before quickly looking at Dami’s notes. “My god, you really do take detailed notes.”

“I do my best work in class.” Dami shrugs before looking out at the courtyard. “Do you have Potions today?”

“Unfortunately, yes, but I-” Lia pauses when Dami sticks her arm out in front of both of them. “What is it?”

“Hold my things.” Dami hands her books to a skeptical Lia, who sends Dami a quizzical look until she looks out into the courtyard.

“Oh shit, that’s-”

“Uh-huh.” Dami pulls up her sleeves before grabbing her wand. “That’s why I’m going to interfere.”

“Before they hurt someone?”

“Before someone else jumps in.” Dami corrects as Lia’s eyes widen.

“Are you referring to SuA and Siyeon?”

“Who else would I be referring to?” Dami sighs before walking away. “Make sure nobody tries to jump in, alright? I need to handle this myself.”

“To prove that you’re a good girlfriend?” Lia jokes as Dami walks towards the scene in the courtyard.

“Funny, Lia.” Dami mumbles as she approaches the scene unfolding in front of her.

~

When you were younger, the teasing and bullying from your peers would bother you to no end. You’d sob in the arms of your friends and Dami every time they decided to mess with you.

Now? They were just an annoyance to you.

“Please give it back…” You hopelessly say as you watch two of your peers hold your books hostage ten feet in the air.

“And why would I do that?”

Because you’re not a total bitch?

“C’mon, don’t you have anything better to do?” Exasperated, you pull out your wand as they both chuckle.

“Oh, what are you gonna do, summon your Patronus?” One teases as the other laughs.

You bow your head in shame before putting your wand away.

“That’s what I thought, you pathetic waste of-”

“What are the two of you doing?” 

Your head snaps up as you make eye contact with Dami.

Thank goodness!

“Dami!” One of the students squeaks out before running off, and the other slowly lowers your things towards the ground.

“You’re no fun.” They say before throwing your stuff on the ground.

Your eyes widen as you quickly gather your things from the ground.

“You’re sick!” Lia yells from the side as the other student rolls their eyes.

“We were just joking around, right?” They shoot daggers at you, and you shiver under their glare.

“Ahem.” 

You pause as you hear heels click behind you.

“Headmistress BoA, I-”

“My office. Now.” She calmly says, and the student bows their head before walking away. “Oh, and if you track down your friend before I get back, I won’t make you clean out the Hippogriff cages.”

You dare to look at the student who’s walking much faster now, and you find yourself laughing as you gather your things and yourself off of the ground.

“Are you alright?” She gently asks before placing a hand on your back. “They gave you back all of your things, right?”

You swiftly look through your things before nodding.

“Thank you again, Headmistress.” You quietly say as Dami makes her way to your side. “Thanks for saving my ass… again.”

Dami wraps an arm around your shoulders to comfort you before leaning into you.

“I’d happily step in any time.”

Headmistress BoA gently smiles at the two of you before taking a step back.

“I’m glad you have someone like Dami looking out for you,” She says before waving Lia over, “and it seems that you’ve managed to charm quite a few other students as well.”

“Oh, I…” You bite your lip before staring at the ground. “I don’t think I’d call myself charming.”

“Dami would agree to disagree!” Lia teases, which causes Dami to blush, and you to laugh.

“Well, I will leave the three of you to your studies. If there’s anything I can do, please, don’t be afraid to-”

“Headmistress, you’ve already done so much for me…” You softly interrupt her before looking over to Dami. “for us. I don’t think I can thank you enough.”

~

After you and Dami were close and became ‘more than friends’, the torture that you experienced only multiplied. It went beyond verbal teasing and the occasional shove or someone stealing your notebooks.

It wouldn’t be a day at Hogwarts if you weren’t shoved into a wall and had your face shoved into your food. It got so bad that you ended up confessing to your mother, and when she confronted the Headmistress, they couldn’t find anyone who would talk about the bullying besides you.

You tried to take it on the chin, but after one particularly rough day, you broke down in tears and had enough of their teasing. You stopped reacting to their normal shenanigans, which encouraged them to go farther.

You were walking to The Great Hall while admiring the architecture. You had enjoyed your class, which was mostly because you didn’t have to use your wand all day. It wasn’t a secret that you weren’t the best spellcaster, but you could easily outbrew anyone in Potions and you knew what made the plants grow faster in Herbology. 

You were happy because you were to see Dami, and your day was always better when you saw her. In your ignorant bliss, you had failed to notice the snickering students who were holding a pot of honey above your head with their wands.

You had opened the doors to The Great Hall, and everyone in the world seemed to be looking at you when your assailants launched their attacks.

You screamed when the honey fell onto you, and the force threw you to the ground. You managed to push yourself out of the way of the falling pot before it hit the ground.

All of the students outside of the hall were laughing at you, and from what you could see, a good amount of students were laughing in the dining hall.

You immediately started crying before getting up and running away from the dining hall. You didn’t care that you left your things behind, but it didn’t matter since they were probably ruined anyway.

You didn’t stop running until you had reached a bathroom far from the living quarters and The Great Hall. You closed the door, and you fell back against the nearest wall before burying your head in your arms.

A gentle knock at the door manages to disturb your pity party.

“Leave me alone…” You weakly mumble, and you curse yourself for being so weak, just as your peers had said.

“Are you in here?” Dami asks, and you sniffle before answering.

“You should’ve started with your name.” You say before managing to let out a broken chuckle. “The door’s unlocked.”

The door creaks when it is opened, and Dami files in before shutting it.

“My God…” She mumbles before grabbing a washcloth from beside the sink.

Dami puts the stopper in the sink, and she fills the sink with water before running the washcloth under the faucet.

She offers you the washcloth, and your shaking hand reaches out for it before you stop.

“Do you mind if you-”

“No, of course not.” Dami answers before shutting the faucet off. 

She sits next to you with the washcloth in her hands.

“Can I touch you?”

“Yeah, it’s okay.” You softly say before lifting your head up.

Dami gently begins to rub the honey away by starting with your face. After she finishes with one side, she switches hands, and her right hands cleans your face as the other holds the clean part of your cheek.

“I’m so sorry that this happened to you…” Dami mutters as she gently strokes your cheek with her thumb. “How does this continue to happen?”

“I’m an easy target. I’m useless with my wand, I can’t fly on a broomstick, and I don’t know how to talk to people.” You exasperatedly say.

“But there’s so much that you can do. You’re brilliant with Potions and Herbology.” She compliments you before continuing on. “You’re creative, much more than I am, and you’re kind to everyone, even if they’re not kind to you back.”

“You see the good in everyone, Dami.” You lovingly look at her as she smiles.

“I see the good in you because everyone, including yourself,” She sternly says the last part, “refuses to. Someone has to take care of you.”

“I can take care of myself.”

“You can, but it doesn’t hurt to rely on others.” Dami wistfully says before pulling her right hand away from your face “Let me clean the washcloth, and I’ll work on your arms, alright?”

“Okay.” You feel better as Dami stands and walks over to the sink. 

You like the quiet bliss that is between the two of you. No one may understand why the brilliant scholar loves the tortured artist, but you’re starting to get it now.

Suddenly, the door slams open and you jump before curling up into yourself. Dami looks up from the sink before a sour look settles on her face.

“Headmistress BoA…”

“What is going on here?” She sternly says before glancing at you before looking back at Dami. “Did you… were you a part of this, Ms. Lee?”

“I didn’t do-”

“She was trying to help!” You exclaim before tears fall from your eyes. “Please don’t make her go.”

“Are you sure Ms. Lee wasn’t-”

“She wouldn’t hurt me!” You yell before quickly standing up.

You try to take a step forward, but your knees wobble and you fall on the ground.

“My love-” Dami immediately drops the washcloth in the water before placing a hand on your knee. “Did you hurt yourself?”

“No,” You shake your head before placing one of your hands on hers, “I’m alright.”

“Ah, I see what’s going on here.” A glint of mischief appears in the Headmistress’ eyes before she chuckles and smiles. “Clean up, change your clothes, and head to my office once you’re done. I’ll set dinner aside for both of you, and we can chat about finally putting an end to this mess.”

You smile at the Headmistress before looking over to Dami.

“That’d be great, Headmistress. Thank you.”

~

You grab the key from your coat pocket as you climb the stairs with Dami and Lia by your side.

“Ugh, do I have to go to Potions?” Lia complains before sighing. “I’d much rather go to Defense Against the Dark Arts again then do this shit-”

“I’d trade you.” You mumble.

“How bad was class today?”

“I made a fool of myself, as per usual.” You groan as you remember your classmates’ teasing. “Another failure I will never live down.”

“Don’t let those Slytherins bother you-”

“-They were Ravenclaws.” You correct Lia before she pauses mid-step.

“What?”

“Yeah, I know. A lot of the physical teasing comes from Slytherins and Gryffindors, but I can’t count the times I’ve been harassed by Ravenclaws.” You bite your lip before Dami sets a gentle hand on your back. “You think they’d be nicer considering I am a Ravenclaw.”

“Don’t listen to them. They’re judgemental.” Dami reassures you.

“Even you?”

“I’ve learned better from people like you.” Dami honestly says as you reach the fourth floor.

“Well, I’ve got to grab the textbook from our dorms. I’ll see you tonight for dinner,” Lia says to Dami before turning to you, “and I will have a hundred and one questions about Potions to ask you.”

“I’ll do my best to help.” You gently smile before waving Lia off as she continues to climb the stairs.

You loop arms with Dami as you lead her to a locked room, far from prying eyes.

“How was Herbology?” Dami pushes back a strand of your hair before you unlock the door.

“Professor Im says I have a lot of potential in the field. She wants me to start looking into higher level classes for next year. So, it was as per usual. What about you?”

“Potions was simplistic, and Defense Against the Dark Arts, well, I-”

You open the door before gently nudging Dami.

“It’s okay, Dami, I know you’re good at it. You’re destined to be an Auror, I know.”

You mutter a soft ‘Lumos’, which sets the room alight with a soft glow.

“You’ve put up more art.” Dami notes as you set your books aside.

“What else do you think I do here?” You joke before grabbing your staple apron. “But I’m glad you noticed.”

“What are you going to work on?”

“Undecided… but maybe I just want to hang out with you.”

“Oh? Is that so?” 

You let go of Dami’s arm before grabbing her waist. She smiles before wrapping her arms around your torso.

“I-I am sorry.” Dami mutters as you pull her close.

“For what? None of this is your fault, Dami.”

“I just wish I could’ve done… more.”

“Don’t say things like that-”

“You’re planning about going back to the muggle world permanently after you’ve finished your education at Hogwarts, right?”

Your eyes widen as you let go and back away from Dami.

“Did my mom tell you that?”

“Your dad, actually.” Dami pauses for a beat before grabbing your hand. “When were you going to tell me about the fact that you’re taking muggle classes and classes here? Is bullying the reason why you’re going back to the muggle world?”

“Yeah, it is,” You mumble softly before squeezing her hand, “but I didn’t want to say anything, I know you wanted to be an Auror, you’d be brilliant and the best at it.”

“Why the muggle classes, though?”

“I’m a half-blood. It was my mom’s dream for me to go to Hogwarts, just as she did, and my dad… he’s a professor at a well-known university, so he agreed with my mother as long as I kept up with my muggle work.” You sigh before shaking your head. “Was my dad worried about me?”

“He thought you were making the wrong choice.” Dami explains.

“My dad loves you, and he wants what he thinks is best for me.”

“I want you to stay.” 

“You do?”

“Of course I do. As much as I want to be an Auror, I couldn’t imagine being there without you.” 

“That’s sweet of you to say…” You trail off. “But I don’t belong here. You know that, as do many of our peers.”

“They might not think you belong, but you’ll always belong with me.” Dami pulls you close before you rest your head on her frame. “At least think about it, my love. That’s all I can ask from you.”

“I will, dear, I promise.” You peck her cheek before grabbing a paint brush. “You can go back to the dorms and work in peace if you’d like. I’m going to play some music and-”

“-I’d much rather stay with you.”

[heartbreakslow]

da$h watch 1x01

Woodsy: Hartley High prides itself on being a safe environment Darren: lolsob

(Per usual, this is just the bits that I find relevant to how I see the character arcs--I'm not going to describe every single moment that has Darren or Cash in it).

In the opening explanation of the map, we're shown Darren and Ant's implied hookup with Darren signaling for Ant to follow them out of the gym. At school, we see Darren and Quinni fixing their makeup together; then Amerie plows through the two of them and Darren immediately starts complaining to Quinni about what a "pick me bitch" Amerie is. Quinni responds, "Maybe she just didn't see us," and their dynamic for the rest of the episode is established--Quinni is the angel on Darren's shoulder.

The map is revealed and the kids cluster around it, with Darren staring at their section in shock and fidgeting with their necklace, before whipping their head around when Spider starts asking Ant about his hookup with Darren and if Ant is "into dudes now." Ant is uncomfortable and says nothing; Darren snaps back, "who said I'm a dude?"

(Cash, who hasn't been introduced yet, is reading the list of sex acts to himself with his lips moving!)

During Woodsy's assembly, Darren sits there glowering except for a fake laugh when Woodsy says the school is a "safe environment."

Re Spider and the flaps thing, Darren says, "who knows what that incel was thinking? Straight men are a mystery to me."

At SLTs class, Darren hears Spider, Ant, and Dusty talking about the cemetery party and asks them about it, but Spider won't tell them.

Later Quinni and Darren have a little argument where Quinni encourages them to be kind to Amerie, Darren resists ("I love you but that girl has literally never acknowledged our existence"), and Quinni responds, "so? Haven't you ever felt like a complete reject?" leaving Darren to chew this over.

After school, Darren goes over to Bruno's to hook up with Jacob. Jacob gets up right after sex and goes for a shower, at which point Darren impulsively steals his waving cat figure and then is inspired to steal and dress up in Jacob's clothes and get a job at Harry's by pretending to be a posh boy who wants to make his own money.

They sneak back into their house through the window and change back into their normal clothes before interacting with their mom and their stepdad Bobby. Bobby asks if Darren is going to be around that night, which Darren correctly interprets as Bobby not wanting his friends to see Darren. Bobby misgenders them, Darren blows an airhorn at him, and Bobby starts saying the quiet part out loud: Darren's pronouns are too confusing, don't make sense, and aren't important because "there are starving children in Ethiopia." (Note that Darren and their mom are Black and Bobby is white.)

Darren looks to their mom but doesn't get any support. She does use their pronouns and couches it as "you wouldn't want to watch football anyway," but won't call out Bobby and encourages Darren to go stay at their dad's house instead.

They go back to Jacob's, trying to seduce their way into staying over, but he refuses because they stole from him. They flounce out, yelling about his smelly room. Then they try to call Quinni, but she's too busy reading about flaps, so Darren sleeps on the beach on a pile of rocks.

The next day, they wash up in the shower at work while Cash is outside with the eshays. Cash and Chook are beaming at each other like the best of friends and Chook chucks Cash under the chin.

After 34 minutes, Darren and Cash have their first interaction, which starts with Darren yelling at Cash for stealing food. Cash explains he's a delivery driver picking up an order, and also makes a joke, which takes Darren aback. Cash has a very stony/bored look on his face, but asks Darren if they're going to the cemetery. Chook is watching the conversation.

Darren sees Amerie's bangs and is enjoying laughing at them, but says to themself "this is just too pathetic" and ends up approaching her and offering to fix them. Cut to Darren, Amerie, and Quinni hanging out and Darren's scream therapy confession is "I'm a reject!" Darren admits they like Amerie now that she's been "knocked off her high horse" and asks her about the cemetery; she explains the kids have parties there, and the three of them decide to go.

Despite hyping Amerie up, Darren is nervous coming into the cemetery party ("I've never made an entrance like this before!") and has to be encouraged by Quinni. But then they all start dancing and having fun.

Darren is poking around in the alcohol cooler and starts drinking liquor out of a bottle. They look up and see Cash who is dealing at the party. They go over and start asking him why he doesn't drop out of school, because he's 18 and making good money. Cash looks blankly at them and keeps looking away from them and saying, "yeah, and..." He finally says, "I got my reasons," shrugs, and walks away.

Darren sneaks into their dad's house, swinging themself in through the kitchen window, which is very cool until they crash into some cutlery and wake up their dad and scare him. Then they just walk by him like nothing happened!

Thoughts: an iconic first episode, and probably the one where we get the most information about Darren. We see a lot of layers to their character beyond the "social reject" or "sassy queer person" tropes that they fit at first glance.

The map: for most of the season, Darren is quite loud and performative about their sexuality. Like, there are multiple references to them oversharing about their sex life/interests in SLT class. They also never complain about being on the map. But their reaction is interesting--they're not happy about it. They look surprised and self-conscious when they see their name and hookups on there, but quickly have to transition into being sassy when Spider starts asking Ant about his hookup with Darren.

The Ant/Darren thing gives some more shading to Darren's attitude toward sex: there's a total lack of solidarity between Ant and Darren when the hookup is revealed, they don't even look at or speak to each other, and Ant never admits to being attracted to Darren (in the next episode, he argues that he's not queer because a handjob is "all the same if you close your eyes"). This is just an embarrassing secret for Ant. You'd expect that to be painful for Darren, but they're just a little bit miffed and then they move on.

Amerie: Darren is naturally reactive/self-defensive. They don't naturally have much empathy or openness toward people who aren't "safe" (meaning themself and Quinni)

One of my favorite things about this show is how it will show the same thing happening over and over until it "takes." Quinni keeps encouraging Darren to be kind to Amerie, and they keep resisting, but they can't forget the idea. Darren goes through a night that makes them feel especially alone and rejected. And then something shifts: they do reach out to Amerie.

The cemetery: so, despite Darren performing that they're a *~reject~* who hates normies, they also kind of want to be part of the crowd and participate in what the other kids are doing. They keep trying to find out about the cemetery party the others are going to. And then, despite talking a big game, they're nervous once they get there. They're somebody who swings between insecurity/self-consciousness and bravado.

Stealing and breaking in: Darren is not inclined to reach out for help. They'll meet their needs by being sneaky/sexy/clever.

We see it a couple ways: they impulsively steal items a few times. They could have tried asking to borrow Jacob's uniform, but they stole it. They make a point of keeping the cat and lying about it. They could have called Quinni right away when their mom asked them to leave, but their first impulse was to use their sexuality to get a place to stay, rather than telling their best friend that they need help.

They also never told Jacob they were kicked out of the house--I mean, he's not a developed enough character for me to defend him, we don't really know him, but it's not like Darren gave him much opportunity to be a friend to them.

Why did they break into their dad's house? Were they planning to hide there or do they just like breaking in? A big part of me thinks Darren just likes breaking in!

Darren's mom and Bobby: first of all, this is one of my favorite scenes in the show. I love that it shows someone being a dick about pronouns in a realistic way, and it doesn't hit you over the head with it. It's not a 101-level scene about pronouns. Darren doesn't have to explain being nonbinary or counter every stupid thing Bobby says. The focus is more on what this says about Darren's relationship with their family.

Bobby and Darren's mom are jerks, but the dynamic is such that Darren gets framed as being overdramatic/picking a fight just because they call out what's going on. When they guess that Bobby doesn't want his friends to see them, Bobby says they "assume the worst," but that is literally what Bobby was going to say!

Bobby and Darren's mom are literally kicking a kid out of their house for their identity (without being sure they have a place to stay, natch) but framing it in a way where it's Darren's fault for being too extra. Their mom isn't saying anything offensive, she's using their pronouns, calling them babe/honey, and sort of downplaying the situation...but she doesn't do anything to defend them. The conversation ends with her saying "problem solved!" but the problem is just...a child expecting to be in their own house?

Darren is such a great character. They don't have an over the top traumatic backstory but we can see how all these quiet/small rejections add up. They're defensive in a way that kind of creates a cycle--I mean, they could have just knocked on Quinni's door instead of going, "I GUESS I'LL JUST SLEEP ON A PILE OF ROCKS THEN!" but that's Darren.

Cash: ????

I will say that I didn't love the "I've loved you since year 8" reveal. Maybe that's an unpopular opinion. I just think the two of them have enough chemistry without needing something like that. But it does make it interesting to watch these scenes from Cash's perspective. Do we think Cash is staying in school JUST for pining or if it has more to do with Nan and/or feeling some ambiguity about the track his life is on?

Darren clearly knows of Cash, like they know he repeated a grade, but they also haven't really talked because Darren's surprised by Cash making jokes.

Is Cash afraid to do more than watch Darren because Chook is often watching Cash?

I also love how Cash's expressions look so different when Chook is there. He looks so stony and bored when he's picking up the food from Harry's. Then when Darren talks to him at the cemetery, he still doesn't say much or react, but his eyes are just--so much more open? Without the sneer/hypermasc body language it already seems very different from the other scene. Will McDonald is so good.