#but the other half actually makes some sense

[soleilapproves]

ex-convict!sukuna gets into a bar fight for burnt out reader but she’s embarrassed of being seen with him. For more context, read this prompt.

main masterlist

There’s a fine line between procrastination and being burnt out, and you weren’t sure which part of the spectrum you belonged to. However, you could blame part of your confusion to the toasty bitter liquid in front of you. Condensation collecting around the large jar. College bars weren’t exactly crowded during finals week, but the bartenders were glad to have you there as you single-handedly kept them in business after downing drink after drink.

Your friends had long ditched you to catch some sleep before their study session the next the day—an event you weren’t invited to because you simply slept the entire time, not being much help with memorizing naming reactions in organic chemistry.

Your notes from the first half of the semester were still incomplete. Forget revising for the final. You were fucked, winging your past quizzes and exams by getting Cs.

Life felt stationary. No internships, no friends you could actually rely on, car broken down, and no boyfriend.

Boyfriend. Funny word. The closest thing you had to one was the older man you were messing around with. To make matters worse, he was an ex-convict without a job.

His truck, however, said that he had enough money to spare. His apartment? Not so much. Heat pooled between your legs as you thought about his room. His bed. A Pavlovian response. You only went there to momentarily forget about your struggles after all.

“You’re looking worse for wear,” a smooth, rich voice calls out from beside you. Geto Suguru—English Literature major. Honors student. Persistent ex-hookup from your second year. You were surprised that you were even able to recognize the midnight-haired man. He eyed your figure—slouched and red (courtesy of the alcohol).

“Need me to drop you home? I live nearby.” You knew he meant well. But a small voice deep in the corners of your consciousness told you that you were most likely going to invite him in. Finding solace in one man’s arms were enough. You were not going to split your loyalties. At least for the time being. You were too mentally exhausted.

Also, you weren’t sure how Sukuna would react knowing that you were sleeping around with other people.

His angry grunt after you asked if he had been hooking up with other girls was enough to tell you that your arrangement was exclusive. It was a good thing that you asked him while he had you sheathed around his dick. Who knew what he would’ve said if he was in his right mind?

“I’m alright, Suguru. Thanks for offering,” you slurred out. He wrapped an arm around you, probably to shield you from the leering eyes of the other drunk patrons at the bar. “It’s just colder than usual here. And you don’t have a jacket.” You simply nod at his reasoning. Relishing in his warmth and the smell of his subtle cologne. Much tamer than Sukuna’s and even then you’re able to sense his heavy natural musk.

Maybe it was because you’d been intimately entwined with him more times than you could count. You couldn’t even remember what Suguru’s scent reminded you of. All that clouded your mind was that darned tattooed ex-convict.

“You know, I’ve been watching you around campus for a while. I can tell you haven’t been feeling well for a while and—“ Suguru sighs before tightening his hold on you “—if you ever feel like you need to talk to someone, please know that I’m always there for you.” His warm smile almost feels fake. You couldn’t remember the last time someone showed you genuine kindness. Save for Sukuna immediately replying to your text where you’d told him you needed to let out some steam.

“Thanks,” you choke out, a singular tear falls down and for the first time in a while you see something other than pity in a peer’s eyes—concern. True and genuine concern. You felt cared for. Your tears began to flow out your eyes yes and you sobbed uncontrollably, unsure if it was the alcohol or the shred of kindness you were just shown.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” he said as he rubbed his arms up and down your shoulders. “It happens to the best of us. You’ll be ok-“ You’re suddenly left cold without Suguru’s warm hold. You turn to see his hand in the grasp of another man’s.

Sukuna. He was in front of you.

“Get the fuck away from her,” he spat at Suguru. “If you know what’s good for you.”

Suguru ignored the older man’s imposition and turned to look at you. Eyes softening again. “You know this guy?” Your tongue was too thick for your mouth to answer him.

What could you say? If you agreed then all the people in this bar (who were in your university) would know that you liked to mess around with strange men. If you said no then you’d have Sukuna’s supposed wrath to deal with.

You didn’t even know what he went to jail for.

Too overstimulated and confused to answer, you simply glanced around the bar. All eyes were on you three. An unwanted spotlight.

“Tell him you know me,” Sukuna’s red eyes bore into your delirious state through a frown. “At least I know where you live.”

You felt conflicted. On one hand, you had a man who was genuinely concerned for you and was explicit with providing you with support. On the other, was a man who knew about your emotional state and didn’t let you feel afraid to put your guard down despite never asking you about your troubles.

“That doesn’t matter. She didn’t say anything about knowing who you are. Hell, I haven’t even seen you around campus. Are you even a student at our school?” Suguru snapped. You were grateful that a mere acquaintance was so protective of you, but at this moment, everything felt uncomfortable.

Cold sweat prickled the back of your neck as you watched both the men raise their voices with each insult thrown at one another.

And to your horror, both the men started fighting one another. You looked away, shielding yourself and cringing. You heard a distressing crunch and didn’t want to guess whose nose had gone bust. It was all so embarrassing. Your friends always joked that you had the worst taste in men and they were right.

Humiliated, you ran out the bar, too frantic to pay your tab. The fight had gotten so bad that you could hear the faint sirens of the local police patrol cars driving towards the bar.

The bus ride back home was as excruciating as ever. Its rockiness and constant bumps on the mussed streets made it a nightmare to hold your bile in. The acidity of it had travelled up to your mouth, and you were grateful for the bathroom being in close proximity to your front door.

A few uncomfortable belches and spurts of vomit later, you dragged your dehydrated and exhausted body to your couch, scrolling through your phone to order hangover soup for the next day.

But your finger stopped before you could tap anything because a text had popped up.

11:27 pm | Sukuna Ryomen: are you okay

—

No part two for this. The “storyline” (?) is more focused on reader’s unhealthy coping mechanisms, and how sukuna affects her life 🥸

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

What a Mess 1

Warnings: non/dubcon and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: thick!Bucky Barnes

Summary: Your new job isn't all that you expect. (maid AU – short!reader)

Note: hate me, baby.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

You punch the code into the keypad. The instructions are in the app, under the corresponding address. It took you sometime to find the building, then a little longer to figure out how to work the elevator. As it stopped on the right floor, the grated door struck you with a glimmer of panic. 

Unlocked, you roll the door back to reveal the condo on the other side. Wow. It’s quite the place. Spacious. High ceilings, polished dark floors, tall counters. Well, everything is ‘big’ compared to you. The world is gargantuan in a way that makes you feel like a spec of dust. 

You set down your kit and roll in your vacuum. It’s a haul and a half and you felt a bit silly dragging it all up the front steps of the building. You always feel a bit ridiculous. Like you don’t belong. Even in a city so big that you’re invisible. 

You tap your earbud twice to turn the music up. You always keep one in to ward off the overstimulation of the New York chaos. It helps you through the hours of cleaning. 

You check the notes in the app. It’s a long list. The work isn’t new, just the place. They chose to give some of your old clients to newer cleaners and you took on the more particular ones. Zuli said it’s because you know how to get in and out without any hint that you were ever there. 

You start your cautious work. The client has included some very direct instructions. What you can and can’t touch. Alright, easy enough. You’re good with that. Details help. 

You get to the spiral staircase that leads up to loft bedroom. The instructions say to dust the railings and sweep the steps. It doesn’t really look like they need it but it can’t hurt. You’re paid to do the job. 

You start with the railings. Going top to bottom as you drag a microfibre cloth down the twisting ascent. You go back to the highest step with the broom, the task made awkward as the broom handle pokes through ceiling that would be the floor of the room above. It’s an interesting set up. 

As you bring the bristles across the metal step, a shadow shifts over you. The windows are tall enough to let the sky in. You ignore it until a voice startles you from above. “Got an extra cloth?” 

Your foot slips as a hand grabs the other end of the broom. You cling to the stick as another hand reaches to catch your arm. You squeak and look up at the man as he bends through the hatch door and keeps you from falling further. 

“Oh, I'm sorry,” you whittle out of your tight throat. 

“Careful,” he steadies you on the step until you get your balance. He lets go and steps back, standing above you as he looks down through the open hatch. “So, a cloth?” 

You tap your earbud to pause the music. You nod and give a wide blink. You turn and scurry down the spiral steps, dizzy by the bottom. You search your kit and take both the roll of paper towels and a microfibre cloth. You go back to him and offer both. 

You bat your lashes as you peer up at him. You know him. Well, you recognise him. The hair, the beard, the bright blue eyes. It's Bucky Barnes. What really gives him away are the metal fingers twiddling by his jeans. He bends to take the paper towel. 

“Thanks,” he rasps and walks away without another word. 

You don’t move for a moment. Then you set back to your work. You’re not there to ogle the famed super soldier. You have your list of tasks. You remember the underlined point on the list. Do not enter the loft.  

You make a slow descent down with the broom and gather the small cluster of dust in the pan. You dump it and begin on the lower floor. You get about halfway around the front room of the open-concept condo before the silence smacks you across the face. 

You hit play on your earbud. That’s better. You finish up with the sweep and start with the mop. You’re sure to use the gentle, unscented, all natural cleaner as specified in the app. You suppose a place this nice requires extra care. 

You bob as you clean, the rhythm of the music soothing your nerves. You can’t help by keep replaying your near disaster in your head. Imagine if you’d fallen down those stairs. That would have been painful and just as torturously humiliating. 

As you finish up, packing up your kit and tie up the trash bag to take out, you sense something behind you. You turn as you wait for the elevator to rise up and blanch at Bucky as he stands at the foot of the metal stairs. How hadn’t you heard him? 

He looks at you then around the apartment. You squirm, too tongue tied to speak. Better off that you don’t. Was that on the list? You can’t remember. 

“Looks good,” he says. 

His eyes meet yours and you flinch. His irises are a blue so bold and deep that they threaten to swallow you up like the sea. And the way he stands. His posture. He’s intimidating without trying. Or maybe you are a bit of a wuss. 

You press on your earbud, once more silencing the music. You wait for him to say something else. He doesn’t. He goes into the kitchen and opens the fridge.  

You hesitate and face the elevator again. Tension roils at your back as you hear the glass tingle followed by the hiss of a cap popping free. You push your shoulders up and lift your kit, hanging on tightly to the hose of the vacuum. 

He must deal with enough leers, he surely doesn’t need that from a cleaner. The elevator doors open and you step inside. You roll the vacuum into the corner and go to close the gate.  

Bucky appears at the threshold as he pulls it across himself. The whole time, his gaze doesn’t leave you. He hits the keypad on his side and the lock clicks before the outer doors roll across and block him from sight. You stay there, frozen, even as the elevator jolts into motion. 

Did you overstep? Miss a check on the list? You hope you didn’t mess this up already. You really hate starting all over again. You prefer to know what to expect than to have to keep guessing. 

[room-surprise]

[SPOILERS BELOW]

Not to make an already long post longer, but saw these great tags and wanted to respond:

#dungeon meshi#i find these sorts of essays so insightful and a further testimony to how much thought miss kui puts in dunmesh#“cithis is doing female drag” is an incredible explanation and it makes so much sense to me now#im curious where kabru falls in the elven gender chart#cause hes not a super masculine person but he doesnt present himself really femininely as well#does marcille fall under being super feminine for elf standards#she doesnt use as heavy of makeup as cithis but imo she does emphasize her gender more by falling under a typically girly appearance#the way she styles her hair & the outfits she chooses to wear#this got me thinking of stuff i didnt even care about until 5 minutes ago lmao

I actually discuss exactly this in chapter 4 of The Essay in Marcille's section (starting under the heading "ELVEN SUPERIORITY"), that because Marcille is taller and heavier than most elves, and Kui shows repeatedly that she makes great efforts to be feminine (and gets upset when her femininity is questioned, or others don't obey gender norms the way she wants), I believe she is overcompensating by acting extra-feminine because she's afraid of people realizing she's a half-elf... Since everyone in-universe most likely believes "elves are small and feminine."

So failing to present in a feminine-enough way will make people assume she's a half-elf, and that has various social disadvantages.

Marcille is supposedly “not ashamed” of her half-elf status, however she hides it in her day-to-day life via omission and careful self-censoring, allowing people to believe that she is a full elf. The World Guide says that Marcille doesn’t tell people the truth because it would be “a hassle” or “too difficult” to explain, but the way this is phrased makes me think Kui is telling us this is only an excuse. Saying something is “too difficult” is a polite Japanese way of saying “no” or refusing to do it, so the implication is that Marcille simply doesn’t want to disclose her multi-racial status to anyone. It would be “a hassle” to explain because if people know she’s a half-elf, Marcille will have to defend herself and her family against all the assumptions she knows people will make: That her mother is a sub-standard, low-class elf scamming the short-lived races for her own benefit, that her father was a pathetic idiot that was seduced, and that Marcille is a foolish, immoral and incompetent half-breed who is jealous of real elves and desperately wants to be accepted by them, and is bitter about her inability to have children. She’ll have to explain that she isn’t like that, and probably not even be believed, so it’s better not to let anyone know that she’s a half-elf at all.

I think to elves, more than anything Marcille reads as a foreigner, she's not a REAL elf because she wasn't born in the west and she doesn't actually conform to their social standards, she doesn't know how elves dress, talk or act, because she was raised in the east.

Kui tricks us into thinking Marcille and Fionil are normal elves because they're the only ones we see for such a long time, but once a lot of actual elves from the west show up, we can see that they're very different from them, both in physical appearance, grooming and clothing, not to mention personality and behavior.

Marcille and Fionil are emotional and expressive, but the elves are (generally) much more cold and stoic... When we do see emotions from them, it's usually anger, not sadness or happiness.

Compare Marcille's elaborate ever-changing hairstyles to how every western elf has an extremely simple, minimalist hairstyle. Her weird, complicated outfit versus the extreme minimalism of elven clothing.

I believe this is in some ways a parallel Kui is making to Japanese culture, where Japanese people who have spent time outside of Japan are considered foreign, and often bullied or discriminated against for that, even if they are 100% ethnically Japanese. They've been "tainted" by living or being born overseas, and can never be "really Japanese" no matter what they do or how long they live in Japan.

As for Kabru...

Honestly there isn't really anything feminine about his presentation in my opinion, compared to other men in the story. He's just a beautiful fantasy South Asian man who was raised by both a mother "from a good family" and an elven noblewoman who gave him an extremely thorough education.

He wears the same clothing as all the other male characters, he's an extremely skilled and brutal physical fighter, he's a good leader, he doesn't wear makeup (Kui has told us several other characters do though!)... He's just naturally very beautiful, with long dark eyelashes and facial features common to Asian people, like a small nose, almond-shaped eyes and a small chin. These are traits that are often perceived as "more feminine", but many Asian men have them.

He's a sophisticated, cultivated gentleman with the old timey equivalent of a college education. He speaks multiple languages and knows about all the different world cultures, including their etiquette. None of these things are feminine, in fact in many ways he'd be considered the ideal upper-class man throughout most of history, someone who should work in a high level government position or rule a country.

He's like a prince, a nobleman, he's dreamy, he's ideal husband material, etc.

To the elves I think his gender presentation just seems "correct", and I imagine he often gets backhanded compliments like "wow, you act so much like an elf!" by which they mean "you almost act like a civilized human being! That's amazing, I didn't know tall-men could do that! You must be working really hard to reach our level."

So to the elves, he is androgynous but that's a good thing, and he seems to be masculine by their standards.

Probably this means he seems a bit androgynous or effeminate by the standards of the Eastern hemisphere (where Dungeon Meshi takes place) but that is because those standards are pretty harsh, and seem to be somewhat misogynistic... Remember, the dwarves (who set a lot of the cultural standards in the East) only respect people who have a beard, and they expect their women to shave. Meaning only bearded older men are considered "people" who matter and can impact society.

So until Kabru grows a beard (or glues one on) he'll probably be looked down on, and seen as a "lesser" category of man no matter what he does... But he knows the social etiquette for the societies in the Eastern hemisphere, so I think he's able to blend in and present "correctly" among them if he wants to.

Basically it depends on how dwarf-like the people Kabru interacts with are. To anyone who is deep into dwarven social norms (dwarves themselves, tall-men of the Northern Continent), he probably seems "too elf-like" to be considered a real man...

But people who follow gnomish social norms (gnomes and some of the tall-men in the Eastern Continent) might find him perfect, romantic ideal husband material, as I said. The kind of wonderful guy girls dream about marrying.

I could keep going but I wanted to try and keep this short LMAO it's a HUGE topic though, and incredibly complicated.

Basically I think Kabru's mostly just a Guy, and he's flexible enough to code switch to convey his Guy-ness to whomever he's around.

cithis's overtly feminine presentation is so fun to me... the long dress and the cleavage window and the makeup and the fact that she's the only one who changes super noticeably in the genderswap is just . Idk its cool, esp with how androgynous all the other elves are

It is very cool! Cithis has a very overt gender presentation that we don't really see in other elves, even Otta who makes a point to present as male doesn't read as super masculine to the level of "hyper-feminine" that Cithis is

Elves seem to have their own fashion preferences independent of gender (from what we can tell from the gender swap)

Which makes sense, Lycion himself wears a very feminine hairstyle even in the original, so Pattadol also keeping the same hairstyle while she's a man is consistent! Meanwhile Cithis seems to be way more conscious of her own gender when dressing?

I wonder if presenting more feminine is more common than presenting more "masculine" for elves? Would a male elf dressed like Cithis be strange? I don't think Cithis is completely unique in how feminine she is cause we do see a few other elves with similar traits. Flamela has a exposed cleavage, Mysil has a long skirt, Daltian clan "Aunt Uranesse" seems very feminine with makeup and adorned hair, Cithis has it all at once but the pieces aren't unique I guess is what I'm saying

They say that for the most part there isn't much difference between male and female fashion but even here we have an elf in what we would call a "feminine" looking long dress

I wonder if those are things that male elves could wear without other elves finding it strange too 🤔

I wonder if there's an equivalent for "very masculine" in elf fashion, tbh I don't know what that would even look like, male Cithis just wears a very average looking version of the uniform (minus the boots and arm armor) even the neck piece is on instead of her choker. Otta does "dress like a man" to the point other elves get her gender wrong tho so there must be an equivalent? (besides the fact she wears the male uniform) Or maybe is her behavior along with the fashion that makes them read her as masculine and the fashion alone wouldn't?

Anyway it is very interesting!!! But I have no idea what to make of it!!!! Elf gender studies when

[dawnfelagund]

The last couple of days have been heavier topics, with data on who speaks by gender and character group, so today seemed a good day for a post that is only semi-serious!

Because it doesn't actually mean much to talk more than Ilúvatar in The Silmarillion. Ilúvatar has a lot of lines and is prone to speech-making so has a high word count as well, but it's not like the four characters who speak more than him are trying to one-up God or anything. But we're Silmarillion fans and anything related to our characters feels political, so it's fun to consider which of them talk more than God.

In fact, the four characters who do are interesting in part because their dialogue is so different. Melian's dialogue is mostly in conversation, with Thingol or Galadriel. Fëanor has a variety of different dialogue but also makes some lengthy speeches; his speech to the Noldor prior to their exile is the third longest in the book (excluding two instances of "group speeches"). Túrin is the exact opposite: He speaks a lot, but his instances of dialogue are unusually short. The median length of an instance of dialogue across the book is thirty-one words, but the median for Túrin's dialogue is twenty-one words.

Thingol, of course, comes out on top as the character who speaks the most instances of dialogue AND the most words, topping Ilúvatar in both of these categories.

Returning to Melian and continuing yesterday's discussion of gender and speech, the woman who speaks the most after Melian is Yavanna, with ten instances of dialogue (most of them in the Christopher Tolkien-authored "Of Aulë and Yavanna). This means that Melian and Yavanna speak more than half of the dialogue uttered by women in The Silmarillion.

Of course, I'm always interested in pseudohistorical readings of The Silmarillion, particularly thinking about who is telling the story at what points and how the story Tolkien gives us is shaped by narrative point of view.

In this case, Thingol as the top talker makes sense given that the Beleriandic materials were collected by Pengolodh, who counted as a major source the refugees from Doriath who migrated, as did he, to Sirion's mouth. Dírhaval, who is credited with Túrin's story, would have likewise heard much of Thingol (and Melian) from his sources. It makes sense that Thingol, Túrin, and Melian are written with more immediacy than other characters are, who likely felt less accessible to the narrators.

What about Fëanor? The Aman materials were authored by Rúmil and passed to Pengolodh. I've always felt like Rúmil's sections portray Fëanor with more humanity than Pengolodh's sections do, though I've not yet drilled down into the data on this. The dialogue data seems to support that, at least, Rúmil perceived Fëanor as a character important enough that his words were worth preserving. That may seem like a "doh" statement, but consider how many important moments throughout The Silmarillion occur without us hearing dialogue from anyone at all. Multiple of Fëanor's speeches, on the other hand, were preserved.

---

This is part of my ongoing project The Silmarillion: Who Speaks? The data is available under a CC license for others who wish to play with it: View the data | Copy the data

Previous posts:

Dialogue by Chapter Dialogue by Character Group Dialogue by Gender

The entire project is archive on the Silmarillion Writers' Guild.

[sepublic]

            The Owl House’s first episode really is a litmus test for people who claim to support Problem Kids who act out but ultimately need support by their community instead of punishment by the system, because jeezus.

            The way so many people were clutching their pearls over Luz bringing fireworks to school, treating her like some domestic terrorist in the making who needed to be carted away, and not just… An eager kid who got in over her head trying to bring fun with something associated with fun, especially in her country!!! Like this was so obviously a well-meaning child who just needed to be sat down and explained the dangers of fireworks, who was clearly willing to listen!

            And yeah, Luz DID become a domestic terrorist. But you know what I mean, and really that just proves my point that Luz can be a rebel in a fantastical sense, but when you apply it to a real-world context, suddenly she’s a menace that needs to be stopped. Because it’s easy to root for the metaphor until you have to uncomfortably apply it your own life. Why else would Belos be an actual colonizer from IRL history, and not just a space alien or demon?

            It’s the way people saw this cartoonishly-evil system that the show was so unambiguous about, and because they thought they were being clever by being uncritically contrarian (when really they were just affirming their own latent biases), they argued that Oh yeah maybe the system IS good for Luz, maybe this is what she needs! The way people were so ready to take the camp’s promises at face value, that See it’s going to teach her how to do taxes and listen to the news!

            People were just so insistent that actually, the Troubled Teen Industry means well and will do well in taking this brown child away from her struggling brown mother, without a choice for either of them. They just ignored the obvious bit about Principal Hal sending Luz to the camp as a punishment, out of spite, after breaking his promise to give her another chance as soon as he ran into the aftereffect of Luz’s prior chance. Luz even brings it up, “That doesn’t count, right?” And he still went through with it because he doesn’t actually care about what Luz needs, he just wants to punish her!!!

            It’s Be Gay, Do Crimes until the protagonist performs actual crimes and suddenly she has to be arrested. Nobody questioned how at least half the incidents Luz was sent to the office over were clear overreactions by the school; Things that didn’t harm anyone! It’s almost as if, gee, maybe sometimes kids DO cause problems, but there’s a particular bias and double-standard regarding certain demographics, and so they’ll be punished for the same things other well-behaved kids get away with! Principal Hal clearly had it out for Luz from the start , so I really don’t care about his judgment.

            It’s all about restorative justice for criminals, until one of them does something even remotely problematic and suddenly they have to be hauled off and not worked with. It’s all about supporting child welfare, recognizing that kids are a struggling and oppressed class in and of themselves, until Luz is having her entire summer vacation, a whole three-months period to herself that is idolized in our culture by kids for this reason, to be sent learning how to do taxes.

            But nnoooo these are important life skills, you argue! But if your parents used up your whole vacation, your only reprieve, to send you to a camp where you had to learn these things, you would understandably be calling it child abuse. Y’all stress the importance of breaks and how school genuinely wears a kid down, and vacation is legitimately necessary; But Luz is a Problem Child and you’ll say it with unironic contempt.

            And that’s not even getting into the implicit bigotry of the system, because under kids’ show censorship you can’t actually SAY that the system is targeting Luz disproportionately for being brown. But you can definitely imply it, just as in Teen Titans, Cyborg goes on a whole spiel about how he can verbalize Starfire’s struggles with fantasy bigotry without her even having to explain it to him, clarifying that he knows because he’s… part-robot.

            Belos isn’t allowed to rant about indigenous peoples but his attempted genocide of natives in a fantasy world is so obviously meant to hearken to what IRL Puritans did with Native Americans, and the show even clarifies that its universe’s witch hunters had the same motives as IRL witch hunters, who were racist, misogynistic, etc. Lilith tells Luz to go back to her world. The Reality Check Camp has Masha, an obvious Russian migrant child, a dark-skinned kid, and another kid based off of Molly Knox Ostertag, who is openly queer. Gee, it’s almost as if the camp is targeting, specifically, kids who don’t fit within the cultural hegemony of the United States!

            And yes, it’s interesting that Yesterday’s Lie creates ambiguity for Luz because these kids seemed to get along and find each other because of the camp… From her own perspective. But Luz doesn’t have the luxury of re-watching a scene carefully, she had other things on her mind. She’s canonically an Unreliable Narrator who remembers things as worse than they actually were, as revealed in the very next episode.

            The kids said they found solidarity while also calling the camp terrible, so it’s clear it was an unintended side-effect of the camp, it had nothing to do with the camp itself; But Luz isn’t the calm, detached viewer. So her takeaway is something that will fuel her regret over coming to the isles, which her mother really contributes towards at the end of said episode.

            I don’t think TOH is the pinnacle of Leftist media, obviously. It’s basic, entry-level stuff; But this is a kids show. So not only is its effort impressive for a kids show and setting the bar, but it’s also a good introduction for kids into other ideas. The writers are clearly operating off of ideas and beliefs, so it’s fun analyzing how they bleed into their work, how they think to convey these ideas, and Readings are always a thing. And also, yeah; It IS a kids show! What I’ve said should be obvious to kids, the first episode is cartoonishly obvious, but some of y’all are actual grown adults who still can’t get it, how embarrassing!

            And in the end, I don’t think it’s because you don’t have the skills. I think some of y’all do understand, but are just contrarians who live in a perfect bubble where you don’t notice the system’s issues and are insistent on taking its side, even when the narrative is unambiguous about its fault. I also think some of y’all are just racist, and/or misogynistic. That some of the people saying this are white does not elude me.

            I know I toss those words around a lot, but seriously; It genuinely is everywhere, but of course privileged people can ignore it, and treat women and PoC as insane and overreacting. It’s Not That Deep until it bleeds into everything, including people’s writing and how they engage with media. Luz was struggling with the viewers’ own racism since the first episode.

            The most absurd part is that the show does get around to this; It does address that Luz can get carried away, and that she needs to be more mindful. It can also be nuanced in acknowledging that she was disproportionately targeted and punished for being “weird.” The first episode sets up the show’s conflict, its themes, its status quo and cast; As well as the flaws and trajectory of our main character’s arc. It begins addressing these things pretty early on with Luz learning to be more mindful as early as the fourth episode.

            But y’all are adults who lack reading comprehension with a kids show, and demand every issue of the protagonist be resolved in its first episode, which is already going fast because of everything else it’s handling, on top of its first lesson for our protagonist. Y’all really needed Luz’s flaws to be resolved ASAP instead of her development occurring naturally over the course of the show, and ending with the show because it’s about her story.

            Because you can’t bear to deal with a girl of color’s flaws being a consistent thing on the backburner spaced across the show for her to eventually conquer, she needs to be punished immediately! Because it’s not enough that she learns and grows from her mistakes, no Luz needs to also be punished in a show that starts off talking about the system’s disproportionate punishment. But then y’all see your white faves and complain about how they were so much more fun when they were mean, why didn’t they stay mean, why didn’t we get more time for them to be mean before they had character development…!

[lagerloutfic]

a tough as balls year for little old me, but as the old proverb goes, no matter the horrors there is always ao3 in bed. writing and reading.

doubled down on my love for hockey and feel like i understood the game better, imbued more of the narratives, and discovered more players to be stupid about.

stopped trying to fight being an f1 girlie and threw myself in head first. what a gorge little community of freaks (affectionate) who like to watch the zoom zoom.

here are some things i wrote. not sure if i love them all, but they were all glorious distractions and so i'm hopelessly fond. not a single word could have happened without @crunchycrispy, the eternal muse.

hockey stuff

🐶 got that dog in him | E | 7.1k | the connor mcdog fic haha...oh boy. the good news is i am not alone in thinking how much connor looks like bowie and the bad news is, we're all going to hell. despite living in fear someone is going to cancel me for bestiality, i loved writing connor/bowie pov and imagining my life as a pampered little pooch, beloved by all. on my wishlist for 2025, tbh.

💦 warm ride | E | 2.3k & wrap me round your wedding ring | E | 6.8k | William Nylander/John Tavares | eurosleaze 4 DILF captain shame writing willy is a true joy, thoroughly recommend everyone have a turn. this was darker that i usually go because i don't like to hurt my own feelings but i'm happy with how wet and pathetic JT turned out and the whole structure of part 2. 😈 love drunk off this hump | E | 8k | Frederik Andersen/Auston Matthews | the gang's all here and they are fucking idiots this might have been the most fun thing i wrote this year? just good vibes, silly times, a thrilling ensemble of dickheads being stupid hockey bros. everyone should jerk off with the homies, the thesis.

🥛 no use crying | E | 38.6K | Brock Boeser/William Nylander | milk bar fic sex-worker AU ummmm, look. i just wanted to write boys with big milk jugs. do these fellas know each other? no. does the world make sense? nah. did i have a fun time, YES.

🦷 different kind of buzz | E | 3.5k | Macklin Celebrini/Will Smith | | pain, teeth & horny 4 hockey | those fucking rookies, goddamn actually can't believe we are witnessing the birth of a new pairing right under our noses, but it's happening. we are living in the historical moment! thank you to all the sickos who are writing willmack, posting the content, thinking the thoughts. the real MVP of this season, along with @fast-burn for making it spesh.

🏒 let's call this the playoff hockey coping strategy collection 🏒

absolutely bonkers time where i dealt with playoff hockey through fanfiction. actually do not remember half of these, so that's cool.

say it, say it again | E | 4.1k | Leon Draisaitl/Connor McDavid | soft dick fic.

but close ain't close enough | E | 6.3k | Leon Draisaitl/Connor McDavid | get your captain pregnant with help from your girl

go ahead and try a little crazy on me | E | 4k & don't you even try and explain | e | 12.1k | Leon Draisaitl/Arturs Silovs | winner's room goalie fucking | whomst among us was not enchanted by arty during that series? probably the most enjoyable voice to write, i do really want to write a part three where everyone gets freaky in spain so someone bully me until i do it.

better put that business to bed | E | 2.8k | Leon Draisaitl/Connor McDavid | voice kink

just the touch of your hand | E | 3.4k | Leon Draisaitl/Connor McDavid | McDepression and spanking

if i could make a wish | E | 2.8k | Leon Draisaitl/Connor McDavid | omg, MORE McDrepression?? Get a new theme, girl!

i'm gonna tell you right now, they're all i'm thinkin' about | E | 7k | Leon Draisaitl/Connor McDavid | you are never gonna believe there's a THIRD McDepression fic out there by moi. This time with a cute outfit!

🏎️ f1 stuff 🏎️

👀 unsafe release | E | 18.2k | Alex Albon/George Russell | when that childhood friend becomes hot and weird and scary it's your girls first f1 fic! started life as a quinn/petey fic lol okay who is she? this was HARD to write. new fandoms are tricky, there's so much to learn. but good to be sobbing into the google doc at a million am, it builds character etc etc

🌪️ a lasting advantage | E | 18.7k | Alex Albon/George Russell | okay but actually i wasn't done with these bitches more of the same, but with extra mental breakdowns and lashings of shame! buttsex, finally, and a beloved OC.

💬 hot rookie slagsss | M | 5.7k | Alex Albon/George Russell/Lando Norris | horndogs in the groupchat i just wanted to write something with dialogue so i didn't have to bother with all the bits in between and text is so fun for that. so fun to thrash this out with @latecomersprivilege and @ctimenefic. it takes a village, y'all.

flippin' hell. when it's all laid out like that it's really something. what's next? i literally have no idea! how fun! thanks to anyone who interacted with me this year, the likes and comments and stupidity keep the motor running. open mouthed kisses for all xx

[adara-of-the-flame]

the-name-is-hoggle

When Selva mentions Jareth getting his name wrong during their past confrontation, Hoggle can’t help sighing out a soft "He says the wrong name on purpose” in exasperation. Truly the blond man could be so immature at times it was astounding, despite having always been a fully grown adult. No wonder he’d tried to win over a literal teenager in the past- too bad she proved to be too mature for him!

His brows furrow when the Summer Queen continues, taking them in as she drops some gems of information. Namely, that the other high fae didn’t actually know what was up with Jareth. Which surprised the dwarf greatly, honestly. How did the other monarchs not even have an clue….?

Mars’ mentioning of this Bowie-knife person again barely registers to him, other than to remind himself that he has to explain to her that the work of human bards and artists really hadn’t crossed into fae culture after Shakespeare and all of those ballets…..

“Really? You guys don’t know….? From what Beetleglum told me, The Owl King and Jareth- or him as a baby I guess? - fell into some weird machine together and sort of…mixed…?”

He softly claps his hands together once as they begin to pass over the Stolavor Urngorr. Seemed dwarves had a long history in the region if their words were used to name landmarks….and Selva was correct. Dwarvish always sounded cooler.

“They melded together like molten metals and became a being who’s of the two…? Or something…? Frankly, he was never clear on what exactly he meant by that. But I always took it to mean that all of Noctus’ knowledge was passed to Jareth…..”

Hoggle suddenly shakes his head lightly,

“I guess that isn’t the case….”

adara-of-the-flame

To her credit, the Summer Matriarch didn't drop them. "Old Noctus Labryinthus and his machines. I always figured he'd fall by one of his inventions one of these days." The hot air in her voice had increased from a summer breeze to an uncomfortable swelter.

"Did you know him?" Despite the stillsuit, Mars found herself needing to fan her face.

Selva Roja chose her words carefully. As much as the Alpha-fiery reveled in gossip, some stories were not her's to tell. Even fairies can know respect. "Not closely. More like aquaintances. Noctus and I worked with some of the same people, so it made sense we'd occasionally meet." She confided truthfully.

The mountains were practically upon them by now. Mars could make out the sturdy, angular architecture of the surface dwarves who'd made their home in Selva Roja's tropical biome. Paradise in the crags of mountains high above the clouds. What a world.

Idly, the half-Urru's mind went back to that red-headed dwarf in the tropical print shirt. She didn't understand what they were saying, but something about them told her they'd at least passively made fun of Hoggle. She frowned, and wrapped an instinctive arm around his much smaller shoulder as the Summer Queen made her landing.

“I don’t think I’ll ever get used to the stench of this terrible blog…bleck!”

[helloalycia]

𝐁𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐄𝐕𝐄 𝐌𝐄 [𝐎𝐍𝐄] — 𝐒𝐊𝐘𝐄 𝐑𝐈𝐋𝐄𝐘

two / masterlist / wattpad

summary: when a creepy fan gets too touchy with Skye in a meet and greet, she starts to see him everywhere and you're not too sure if it's true or if she's just stressed from work.

warning/s: mentions of substance abuse, mental illness and poor mental health, stalkers and just the general gist of everything bad that happens in the film.

author's note: okay so this was long overdue but it’s finally written and will be two parts, just something that came to me a few weeks ago. Hope you like it!! it’s set around the same time in the film, before Skye’s comeback tour, but there's no smile demon, and it’s loosely based around what happens in the film but not exactly that (it will make sense when you read it lol, enjoy!)

"Do I look okay?"

I hummed, half listening to Skye, unable to tear my eyes from my laptop.

"It's not too casual? I didn't feel like dressing up today," she continued. "Especially because I'll have to dress up after and it's just too much, y'know?"

"Uh huh," I agreed, admittedly still looking at my laptop screen.

"You're not even listening."

"If I wasn't listening, I wouldn't be replying," I answered, scrolling through a spreadsheet.

There was a pause and then I let out a yelp when a cushion hit me in the face. I moved my hair from my eyes as I looked up in the direction it came from, realising Skye had thrown it. She was stood in front of a mirror, arms crossed and looking at me with disapproval.

"What was that for?" I asked with raised brows.

"You're ignoring me," she said with a frown, before dragging her feet towards me and flopping on the couch.

I sighed, looking over at her apologetically. "I'm sorry, I've just gotta sort this damn spreadsheet. One of the interns got into and saved over the top of it and now March doesn't have any content planned."

"First world problems right there," she said sarcastically.

I gave her a knowing look. "That's your social media content calendar in case you forgot. Do you want fans to come to your tour or not?"

At this, she began to chuckle, sitting up straight. "Okay, sorry. Sounds annoying. But still. Do I look okay?"

I rolled my eyes playfully before setting my laptop down on the coffee table and taking an actual look at her. She was wearing a long sleeved jumper with a pair of jeans. Unlike her usual eccentric outfits, this was toned down, though her jewellery was still more than an average person would wear, as expected from her.

"You look beautiful, Skye," I reassured her with a smile, taking her hand and squeezing it gently. "Very comfortable."

She relaxed, a smile creeping on her lips. "Thanks. That's all I wanted to hear."

I chuckled before kissing her hand and letting go. "Shouldn't you be going now anyway? Your meet and greet starts in ten."

We were at a charity event where she was holding a meet and greet and then performing for free afterwards. I was with her to support her as her girlfriend but also for work as her social media specialist.

"Yeah, I'm going," she said with a wave of her hand before standing up. "You coming?"

I shook my head as I grabbed my laptop and got comfortable on the couch again. "I've gotta sort this and do some other bits, but Tara is with your mum and Joshua to get some content for your Instagram."

Tara was a member of my team who I managed, and the one who would handle the in-person content for behind the scenes stuff, like meet and greets.

"Okay, good luck with all this," she said, motioning to my laptop, before flashing me a hopeful smile. "See you after?"

I nodded in agreement, glancing up at her. "See you then."

And with that, she left for her meet and greet whilst I got back to work.

I wasn't expecting anything to go wrong – it was a simple meet and greet, one Skye had done many times – but then I got a call from Tara.

"Hey, Tara, what's up?" I asked, balancing my phone between my shoulder and cheek as I worked at the same time.

"Hey," she said quietly and distractedly. "Erm, there's been a little incident."

I paused. "Incident? What sort of incident?"

There was some chatting in the background, but she must have moved away from it as it faded. "It's Skye. There was a fan who got a little too touchy. He started saying some weird things and wouldn't let go of her and security had to escort him out."

I furrowed my brows, concerned for Skye's wellbeing. "What? Is she okay? Is she hurt?"

"I think she's okay, but she seems shaken," Tara explained sympathetically. "I thought I'd call you to let you know. Mrs. Riley said not to but– well– it seemed like you should know, Y/N."

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes at the mention of Elizabeth, Skye's mother and manager. I'd known Skye as a friend for a few years and we'd been dating for the past year which meant I'd experienced her mother's unconventional style of parenting firsthand. I'd never seen eye to eye with her, but acted civil as she was technically my employer. But now, as Skye's girlfriend, it only gave me more to clash with her about.

"Thanks, Tara, I appreciate you calling me," I said gratefully. "Is she still with you? Skye, I mean?"

"She finished a few minutes ago, left to go get ready for the show. She should be on her way to you now."

I exhaled deeply. "Alright. Thanks. I'll check in. Speak later."

She said her goodbyes and all I could do was wait for Skye to return. She'd been through a lot over the past year, with her recovery and recording a new album and now preparing for the tour... a lot. And she was heavily overworked and the last thing she needed was a creep making her feel uncomfortable.

Eventually I heard the door to the dressing room opening and stood up, seeing her return.

"Hey, darling," I said softly, approaching her. "Tara called and told me what happened."

She frowned, glancing at me, saying nothing. It broke my heart and I couldn't help but pull her in for a hug, wrapping my arms around her tightly. She returned the gesture, hiding her face in my shoulder.

"I'm sorry it happened," I said quietly, rubbing her back.

"He really creeped me the fuck out," she admitted, trembling.

"It's disgusting, people like that," I said with a scowl. "I'm sorry you had to experience it. But security dealt with it, right? He's gone?"

She nodded.

"Good." I pulled back to get a better read of her expression. "Are you sure you're gonna be okay to do the show? You don't have to. They'll understand."

She sighed, looking down and rubbing her forehead. "I'll be okay. I can't cancel just because of one little hiccup."

I shook my head, taking her hands and intertwining our fingers. "It wasn't a hiccup, Skye. You were assaulted. That's a lot. You can have a break if you need it."

"It's okay," she reassured, swallowing thickly and looking up to meet my gaze with her dark eyes. "I'm okay. I just needed a minute. But you're here and I'm here and everything's okay again."

"Skye–"

"Please," she cut me off abruptly, before breathing out slowly. "I don't wanna talk about it anymore."

I hesitated, not liking when she did this. She'd always push down her true feelings if it interfered with work, and it never sat right with me. But she also never listened when I pointed it out.

"Okay," I gave in reluctantly. "If you're sure you can do it."

She offered me a small smile that didn't reach her eyes. "I can."

I chewed my lip as she let go of my hands and walked further into the room, heading straight for the mini fridge. When she pulled out a bottle of water and began to chug it like it was the last drink on earth, I knew she was compartmentalising. One of her coping mechanisms after rehab was to drink water when she felt like having an actual drink, and this was no different.

But as usual, she got her way and the show went on without a hitch. Any mention of the creepy fan was no more and everybody moved on, including her.

At least, until a few days later.

We'd just gone out for some lunch together, making the most of one of the rare moments she had free, and were walking around to stretch our legs when she froze suddenly.

I stopped walking, noticing she had, and looked to her. "You good?"

She blinked, eyes fixed ahead with a sense of panic. "It's him."

I quirked a brow, looking ahead to see what she was looking at. "Him? Him who?"

Her hand on my arm tightened slightly. "From the meet and greet. The fan."

I rested my hand on hers as I looked again, eyes searching the pedestrians ahead. There was a group of people crossing the street, some others hanging by a hot dog stand and some more just idly walking by. But I couldn't see anyone who was acting suspicious or paying much attention to Skye, especially not someone who matched the description security had told me about.

"Skye, I can't see him," I said carefully, glancing back at her. "Are you sure–?"

"He's right there!" she exclaimed, stepping back shakily and tugging me with her. "He's right fucking there!"

I looked again, still not able to see him, but a few passers-by were certainly paying attention now. Worried someone may recognise her and that it could make everything worse, I grabbed her hand and began pulling her away.

"Okay, c'mon, let's go," I said quickly, leading her away from that side of the street and around the corner.

We took refuge under a flower shop's canopy and she started to glance over her shoulder, paranoid, hugging herself with discomfort. I frowned and placed a hand on her arm, rubbing it gently.

"I'll call the driver to pick us up," I said, already pulling out my phone to get her out of here.

She nodded, leaning into my side, and I hugged her with my free hand as I made the call. Once it was arranged, she exhaled shakily but didn't step back.

"You didn't see him, did you?" she asked quietly, half embarrassed and half upset.

I shook my head, glancing around once more. "No. But I believe you, Skye. If you say you saw him, you did."

She sighed, saying nothing else. I didn't let go of her until the driver arrived and took us back to her place. When I tried to speak to her about it, she didn't have much to say and it only worried me further.

—

It happened again, at the end of the week. I thought we'd heard the last of her crazed fan, but apparently not. I was working from home at my place when Skye called me in a frenzy.

"Hey, darling," I answered, smiling at the sight of her caller ID.

"I need you to come over," she said in a rushed tone, sounding distressed. "Please, Y/N."

My smile faded. "What? What's wrong, Skye?"

"I fucking saw him," she said with a broken voice.

I straightened up, pushing my laptop to the side. "What?"

"The fan, he was there, outside my building," she explained. "He's fucking following me, Y/N, I know he is! I saw him there when I came home and he's fucking there and I don't know what to do. Please, come here, I need you."

"Okay, I'm coming, don't worry," I said quickly, noticing she was getting worked up. "Did you tell reception? Security?"

"Yes, but they say they can't find him and I know what I fucking saw," she replied with a frustrated voice.

"Okay, stay in your apartment and lock the door, I'm on my way," I promised, worrying.

"Okay, please hurry," she muttered.

I quickly got ready before making a beeline straight for Skye's apartment. All I could think about was how stressed out this whole thing was making her. I believed her, I did, but why hadn't he been noticed by someone else by now?

Before I headed straight up, I spoke to the receptionist and security team downstairs in her building, but they claimed there was no sight of the fan, nor anyone who seemed suspicious. That certainly didn't help with my unease and I knew it would only worsen things with Skye.

When I headed up, I knocked first to let her know it was me before letting myself in with the spare key she gave me.

"Skye?" I called out, locking the door behind me.

"In my room!" she called back.

I took my shoes off before going to her bedroom, opening the door to see her sitting on her bed, duvet pulled around her like a safety blanket.

"Hey," I said softly, stepping in and closing the door behind me.

She opened her duvet slightly, hinting for me to get in, so I crawled in beside her and leaned back against the headboard. She attached herself to my side, holding me tight with a pout on her face, trembling ever so slightly. I held her close, kissing the top of her head.

"I spoke to security and reception on the way up," I started gently. "There's no immediate threat. You're safe here."

"I told you, I know what I saw," she muttered rigidly into my chest.

"I'm not doubting that," I spoke, choosing my words carefully. "But... are you sure it's the same guy? Not a lookalike? I know you've been stressed out and–"

Suddenly she pulled away from me, fixing me with a teary glare. "Fuck you."

Realising I'd definitely not said the right thing, I turned to face her and rested my hand on hers. "No, wait, I just wanna make sure, Skye, that's all." She sucked up a breath and wiped away a tear as she glared at the door. "Hey, I just want to make sure," I repeated, eyes flickering over her face with concern.

She swallowed hard, jaw tensed as she looked to me. "I know it's him. I couldn't forget. He's scaring me on purpose."

I nodded slowly, believing she thought she was seeing him. But I couldn't be certain he was actually there. Still, I couldn't say that without her pushing me away, so I said nothing.

"Stay tonight," she said quietly, looking down at my hand on hers and playing with it mindlessly. "Please. I don't wanna be alone."

"I will," I promised, noticing her fatigue. "Have you slept, Skye? You look tired."

She scoffed. "It's hard to sleep when I've got a fucking stalker."

"You're safe here," I reminded her, before squeezing her hand. "Have a nap, c'mon."

She sighed deeply before giving in with a nod, lying down, head in my lap, which was her signal for me to play with her hair. I pushed her blonde hair from her eyes, stroking it gently how she liked. She let out a relaxing breath as I did, eyes fluttering closed.

"I want my security increased," she spoke after a moment, half asleep. "Please."

I hummed, finding her hand under the duvet with my free one and holding it. "I'll talk to your mum about it."

She nodded and fell quiet once more, eventually dozing off. Meanwhile, I tried to think of what we could do because clearly the issue wasn't resolving itself.

—

As promised, I made it my priority to speak to her mother about her security. Elizabeth Riley wasn't my favourite person, but I had to remind myself that we still had the same thing in common: Skye's safety.

So, whilst Skye was stuck in rehearsals at her dance studio, I went on a search for her mother. Thankfully, Elizabeth never strayed too far from her daughter when it came to work, so it didn't take me long to find her chatting to her assistant, Joshua, in one of the hallways around the building.

Approaching them, I stopped between them and watched as their conversation came to a halt when they noticed me.

"Y/N, hey," Joshua greeted with a warm smile. "It's good to see you."

I returned his smile. "You too, Joshua. Sorry to interrupt. I was actually hoping I could have a quick chat with Elizabeth?"

My eyes fell to the older woman, who glanced at Joshua with a knowing nod before looking to me with a small smile.

"Sure thing, Y/N," she said nonchalantly, before adding to Joshua, "Get that merch order rectified, Joshua, thanks."

Joshua nodded obediently before flashing me another smile and leaving us be. I watched him leave and looked back to Elizabeth with a serious expression.

"What did you need?" she asked, a hint of curiosity in her voice. I didn't blame her, since we rarely went out of our way to interact unless necessary.

"It's about Skye," I spoke quietly, in an urgent tone. "You know the whole thing that happened with that crazy fan at her meet and greet last week? It really freaked her out."

"Yes, I know, I was there," she said dismissively. "It was a lot, but it was taken care of. Nobody's seen the guy since. Clearly security scared him off."

I ignored her dismissal and responded, "Skye thinks she's seen him this week."

She lifted a brow, skeptical. "Thinks?"

"She's seen him," I corrected myself, realising how it sounded. "When we were out for lunch. And again, yesterday, outside of her apartment building."

She hummed, crossing her arms thoughtfully. "And did he approach her?" I shook my head, and she continued, "Did you see him?"

"Well, no," I answered, a little sheepish, "but she's really upset. And understandably so." I straightened up, meeting Elizabeth's stern gaze. "She wants more security. She's being stalked."

Definitely not reacting how I expected to, she sighed deeply like this was a minor inconvenience at most. "Y/N, if she's the only one who's seen him, she might be seeing things."

"With all due respect–"

"Skye is stressed out right now," she cut me off, adamant. "There's lots to worry about with her comeback tour. I love her, but she's got a lot to balance and that unfortunate encounter at her meet and greet may have startled her. If nobody else has seen him, you included, how likely is it that he's there?"

I pressed my lips together firmly, unsure how else to respond. Admittedly, a small part of me could see where she was coming from and I hated it.

"Her security team is great as it is," she finished decisively. "I don't think she needs more."

I swallowed thickly, feeling a little helpless, especially as I imagined telling Skye her mother's response. "She's really scared, Elizabeth."

Elizabeth motioned to me casually. "Let her know she's okay then. That's what you're there for, isn't it?"

And just like that, I was reminded why I heavily disliked her.

"She's safe, Y/N," she told me with a knowing look. "There's no stalker. My daughter is just tired. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to get back to work."

I clenched my jaw slightly as she walked away without a care in the world. Or, at least not for her daughter.

Dreading what was to come with Skye, I tried to distract myself with my own work, finding a spare table and chair to sit at with my laptop. I wasn't sure what I was going to tell her, but it definitely couldn't be that her mum didn't believe her.

After her rehearsals were over, she found me at my laptop, still sweaty as if she'd come straight to me before showering.

"Hey," she called out, making me look up.

She sat at the edge of the table and looked down to me.

"Hey, Skye," I greeted with a smile, trying my very best to hide my nerves. "How were rehearsals?"

"Alright," she answered with a shrug, wiping her face with her sweat towel.

"And your back?" I asked considerately. "You didn't overdo it, did you?"

She rolled her eyes playfully. "No, I didn't. You don't have to ask every time you know."

I gave her a knowing look, since she definitely knew that I did. After she pushed herself too hard at rehearsals a month ago and was stuck recovering for a few days after, ice pack glued to her back, I couldn't let her do it again.

"I took it easy," she promised, pushing herself off the table.

Believing her, I nodded and let it go.

"Did you talk to my mum about my security?" she asked after a moment, and I internally panicked.

Buying myself a few more seconds, I stood up to look at her properly, though the hesitation was still there. Enough for her to notice anyway.

"She doesn't believe me," she said instantly, expression hardening. "Of course she fucking doesn't."

"No, that's not it," I found myself saying without thinking. "She just... thinks you have enough security already, that's all."

She clenched her jaw and looked away, but her frustration was still present in the way she squeezed her sweat towel into a fist.

"Skye, you're safe," I tried to reassure her, taking her hand and feeling her grip on the towel loosen. "Everybody is looking out for you. And if anyone dares get too close, they'll know about it."

She didn't speak, her head clearly running a mile a minute. She had a faraway look in her eye that concerned me, so I lowered my head to meet her gaze.

"Hey, I'll stay with you at your place," I said softly. "Until you feel at ease. I don't mind."

Her eyes flickered between mine, unreadable, then she nodded. "Alright. I should shower. See you after."

I opened my mouth to respond, but she already let go of my hand and walked away, not in the best of moods. Sighing, I ran a hand through my hair, knowing I could have handled that better.

—

"...no, I want the one with chocolate in it."

I glanced at Skye with an amused smile. "Seriously? You told me you hate the one with chocolate in it. You said it always melts on your fingers when you're eating it."

She scoffed playfully, picking up the trail mix packet from the shelf. "Yeah, but the two minutes where it doesn't melt is my favourite."

I sighed as I grabbed the one without chocolate in it. "Yeah, and then you'll just take mine and I'll be left with the melted one."

"What's your point?"

I quirked a brow as she stared at me, waiting for an expiation. Letting out a quiet laugh, I rolled my eyes and nudged her slightly before taking the trail mix from her hand.

"Fine, idiot, let's pay," I said, realising some things just wouldn't change with Skye. And as much as I pretended to hate it, I didn't.

She grinned with satisfaction before the two of us went to the front of the convenience store, joining the short queue at the till.

"Wanna walk back to your place or call the driver?" I asked Skye as we stepped forward.

She glanced outside the shop window, probably looking at the weather. "It's not too bad out. Let's walk."

I hummed in agreement, patiently waiting until we reached the front of the queue. As I was paying for the few bits we picked up, including the trail mix I would definitely not get to eat, Skye was already walking outside to wait for me, lingering.

"Oh, can I get this gum too, sorry?" I said quickly, before the order went through, taking some gum off the display stand.

The cashier nodded and was putting it through the till when we both heard shouting from outside the shop. I furrowed my brows, looking out the window, only to widen my eyes when I realised it was Skye. She looked like she was yelling at someone in the distance, but I couldn't be sure.

"Shit," I muttered to myself, before tapping my card quickly, paying.

"Do you want your rec–"

"No, it's fine, thanks," I said quickly, grabbing the bag before almost tripping over my own feet as I left the store.

"...I'll call the police, you psycho!" Skye was shouting across the street, earning judgemental looks off several bystanders.

"Skye!" I exclaimed, standing in front of her and holding her shoulders to get her attention. "What are you doing?"

She was trembling as she glared ahead, and I tried to follow her stare to see who she was yelling at, but other than the confused pedestrians staring at us, there was nobody.

"Hey, what?" I asked worriedly, looking back to her and searching her watery gaze.

Her eyes met mine, terrified. "It's fucking him."

I swallowed thickly, realising she was still talking about this stalker who only she ever seemed to see.

"I fucking saw him," she repeated, looking across the street again.

I frowned, rubbing her arms gently before feeling eyes on us. People were starting to put two and two together, no doubt recognising Skye, so I quickly laced our fingers together and led her away.

"C'mon, let's get you home," I told her calmly, but inside I was extremely concerned for her wellbeing.

She didn't speak, though her eyes were darting around, paranoid. When we reached her apartment building, I gave a heads up to the security there before leading her up to her apartment and settling on the couch with her.

She was leaning on my shoulder for comfort, my arm wrapped around her as I tried to find the right words. But there was no way to say it without making her feel like I was ignoring her.

"Skye," I started gently, softly. "Do you think that, maybe, you might be imagining this fan?"

She tensed up before pulling back slightly, fixing me with a glare. "You think I'm crazy?"

I widened my eyes slightly. "No, no, not at all! But I just–" I paused, trying to express my thoughts better without upsetting her further. "I haven't seen him. Nobody has, except you. And it was a scary thing what happened at the meet and greet–"

"You weren't even fucking there," she cut me off with a scowl, hurt in her expression as she stood up.

"I know," I said with a sigh, before standing up too. "I just mean, you've been working very hard and not getting enough rest and maybe you're–"

"Fuck you," she interrupted, gaze running over me with irritation. "You don't believe me."

I frowned. "Skye–"

"No," she snapped. "You think I'm fucking hallucinating!"

I winced at her words. "That's not–"

"Get out," she decided, crossing her arms sternly.

I stepped forward in an attempt to make amends. "Skye–"

"Now!" she shouted.

Swallowing hard, I let out a disappointed sigh. This was the exact opposite of what I wanted to happen. Especially because she looked so hurt and betrayed and I'd never been on the receiving end of that before, not from her.

"I'm sorry," I muttered. "I'm just worried."

"About the wrong thing," she retorted, avoiding looking at me.

I closed my eyes, internally kicking myself, before reluctantly leaving her apartment.

[gingeralecranberry]

INTERMISSION

𝟑-𝟎 ; 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧 "𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥 𝐨𝐟 𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐞𝐥"

THROW ME IN YOUR BACKSEAT

☺︎ cw:

mentions of the higher ups vomit, descriptions of death/death of family members, orphaned child (in jjk? what a surprise), adoptive family, paperwork double vomit, a few adults hate on the child for no reason, allusion to trauma responses, i've officially decided to say fuck it and make the reader fully OP cause he has to have a way to survive this clusterfuck of crazies somehow

“Inoue, are you close to finishing that incident report?” 

Manato blinked. 

On the outside, the building looked like every other one on the block;  tall, glass office space filled with stuffy little cubicles that weren’t nearly big enough.  On the inside, you could say it probably also looked like every other business.   Lines and lines of employees at their desks, filing paperwork, sneaking in a quick lunch, rushing off to make an appointment.  It was the content they were working on that set them apart. 

“Oh- Uh, yeah, sorry,” the supervisor murmured, “just… having trouble getting all the details together.” 

The life of a supervisor was one that was often filled with monotony.  It was drive a sorcerer here, file some paperwork there, rinse and repeat.  But this case, this case in particular, was something special.

A grade 1 curse is observed being completely docile until arriving at this specific home and only acting aggressively towards the victims specifically?  Not only this, but the nine-year-old son is the one to exorcise the curse and ends up living to tell the tale? 

It didn’t make sense.

The building manager, another supervisor by the name of Sano Tomiko, squinted at him incredulously.  She was always a stickler for rules and deadlines.  That, paired with her seniority, was what originally landed her the managerial position. 

“If you can’t handle the caseload you’re currently being assigned, I’m sure I could find another supervisor or some kind of aid to make sure things get done on time.” 

The younger man quickly shook his head, trying his best to wipe his clammy palms off on his gray slacks, “I assure you, that isn’t necessary.  You know me, even if I get a little tight on the time frame it’ll get done.” 

Ms. Sano pushed her red Cat Eye glasses up her nose, jaw just barely tightening enough that it was noticeable.  She gave a subtle nod of the head, pivoting on her foot with the click of her heel, “Whatever you say, just make sure it’s on my desk before lock-up tonight.” 

“...Yes, Ms. Sano.” 

Manato waited until he heard the familiar sound of the same old wooden door creaking shut and the heavy sound of the deadbolt locking back into place before he let out the sigh he was holding.  

His hands landed in his hair as he leaned back in his chair, staring at his ceiling in exasperated silence. With another frustrated huff, his golden eyes flicked down to the neatly printed incident report on the right hand side of his desk.  Then, they flitted over to the hand-written notes passed on by one of the other departments. 

He tossed around the idea of rereading the report again just to double-check, but at this point, what was there to double-check?  Even if things weren’t logically adding up in Inoue’s head, facts were facts.  Sworn witness statements and the evidence at the scene didn’t lie. 

Still. 

…

One more time couldn’t hurt, could it? 

His elbows flopped down onto the mess that was his desktop, gingerly reaching over to grasp the pristine stack of papers in his hands.  The only signs they’d been touched were the little folds over the corner staple. 

‘Incident Report first, y’know, since I have to turn this in and stuff.’

For good measure, he licked his thumb before gently peeling the title page back to actually analyze the report’s contents. 

‘Location: Okinawa, Japan 

Time: Incident began at approximately 4:15, lasting almost half an hour

Curse (Grade, Name, etc.): Unnamed Serpentine Curse, Grade 1, believed to have some connection to the nearly forgotten practice of Kodoku (see attached) recently resurfacing due to a recently released horror movie in a popular franchise/series

Attending Sorcerer: Masamichi Yaga, Grade 1

Victims (Name, Age, Sex, Ethnicity, Occupation, etc.): 

(surname) (mother’s name) - 34, female, Ethnically Japanese, part-time daycare worker - deceased

(surname) (father’s name) - 37, male, Ethnically (your ethnicity), lawyer - deceased

(surname) (younger brother’s name) - 4, Ethnically Japanese and (your ethnicity), has yet to be enrolled in school and there are no signs of any application or enrollment in any early educational programs - deceased

(surname) (name) - 9, Ethnically Japanese and (your ethnicity), currently enrolled in Furutani Private Elementary School, grade 4 - injured, comatose 3 days post-incident 

Additional Notes: 

I, Minato Inoue, was the reporting supervisor assigned to the case.  I drove one Masamichi Yaga to the suspected location of the unnamed grade 1 serpentine curse at the (surname) residence in Okinawa. 

Upon arrival, the previously wide open entryway had been sealed by foliage and prevented anything larger than a person from passing through, discounting the difficulty of that in and of itself.  Exiting the vehicle, it was clear something was amiss due to the large, inconsistent surges of cursed energy emanating from the home.   Despite the potentially dangerous nature of the situation, my responsibilities stipulated that after casting the veil, I was to remain outside waiting for the attending sorcerer in the case of an emergency evacuation.

From my point of view, the incident wasn’t of much note.  I didn’t hear much noise, however this was likely due to the veil combined with the other obstructions between the scene and myself. 

When Masamichi Yaga exited the abode, he was carrying a small child in his arms, now identified to be the family’s nine-year-old son, (surname) (name).  Immediately, it was noted, the child was latched onto the attending sorcerer’s cursed corpse, Cathy.  While this may have seemed normal due to the proclivity of small children to latch onto stuffed animals, Yaga immediately corrected this assumption. 

The child was siphoning Masamichi Yaga’s cursed energy through the cursed corpse.  Yaga explained later that he did this to create a safe channel for the child to continue to siphon the cursed energy without directly taking it from his body, potentially damaging his permanent reserves. 

As a witness, I, Minato Inoue, swear upon my oath as a supervisor that the above is the whole truth and nothing but the truth.’ 

That was his own witness statement, the only other one belonging to Yaga. That was stapled behind Minato’s.

He peeked over at the handwritten notes at the top left-hand corner of his desk. 

“...”

Technically, they were classified documents meant for specific eyes only.  They were supposed to be stapled to the back  of Minato’s incident report and sent off to a group of higher ups for further evaluation. 

“...”

It would be a violation of privacy, and a violation of his own contract and morals.   He really shouldn’t spend any longer thinking about it. 

“...”

…but what was the worst that could happen? 

He peeked outside of his cubicle, scanning the walkways up and down.  A few of his coworkers straggled here and there, mainly by the boss’s mailbox and the coffee machine.  Nobody was suspicious of him; didn’t have any reason to be.  After all, if anybody looked in, it’d just be Inoue parsing through some documents.

“...”

The moment his fingers touched the high quality parchment, he could feel his guilty conscience hit him in the face like a truck.  His brows knotted up in the middle of his forehead, further displaying his inner turmoil.  He’d already gotten this far, though.  He’d already crossed the line of no return when he flipped open the first page. 

‘CASE 0976, (surname) (name) 

Cursed Technique: Igarushi Clan’s lost “Cursed Weaver” Technique 

Basic Description: The user is unable to manipulate cursed energy in what would be considered a “normal” fashion.   All cursed energy, including cursed energy belonging to other sorcerers or being produced by non-sorcerers, is perceived as threads/strands.  Largely, this sets the user on a plane completely separate to a majority of jujutsu society. 

The technique is considered to be a gem among many other cursed techniques for its unique lack of drawbacks and nearly infinite amount of uses.  That isn’t to say the technique would automatically rule the user a skilled sorcerer like the Gojo clan's famed Limitless Technique or their Six Eyes.  The user must be able to manipulate each individual strand of cursed energy into the correct position at the same time/rapid succession, making any use of cursed energy time and attention-consuming.  So while the creation of cursed tools out of thin air may seem simple enough, the user must be acutely aware of how much cursed energy they’re incorporating into each and every action. 

Unlike others, the user is able to see any and all cursed energy in the area at all times.  However, this ability can become troublesome when interacting with other sorcerers.  Cursed energy appears like woven lines, ties, or blankets depending on the individual’s reserves of cursed energy and their technique.  It becomes an eyesore quickly, but works well for expeditious situational awareness. 

The specific facets of the technique have been lost to time, seeing as many record keepers believed the records to be obsolete after centuries of waiting for the technique to manifest again. 

Much of this can be corrected with extensive practice/research, however the boy appears to be late to developing his technique.  When he last awoke, he relayed to his temporary caretaker (Masamichi Yaga) that prior to exorcising the unnamed grade 1 serpentine curse, he hadn’t so much as seen a cursed spirit before. 

Exorcising a grade 1 curse immediately after awakening one’s technique is largely unheard of, even more so when considering two other factors. 

The child’s parents were both non-sorcerers with no connections to the Jujutsu World

This technique was believed to be lost in the fateful battle against Ryomen Sukuna, dying with the Igarushi Clan Head nearly a thousand years ago. 

Genetics confirm that (surname) (name) is distantly related to the Igarushi clan, but the intermingling of other clans and bloodlines in the mix should’ve largely bred out/tainted the potential population that could carry the genetics necessary to pass on the technique, not to mention pass these genetics to seemingly the perfect host at the perfect time. 

While all of the above is more than infuriating enough, the child managed to create a heavenly pact during the time frame he faced death’s door against the unnamed grade 1 serpentine curse. 

He becomes largely unresponsive/aggressive when questioned about the pact, however, the obvious side effects have been noted. 

His reserves of cursed energy latch on to the largest reserve in his vicinity, siphoning their cursed energy until drainage before moving on to the next target.  Upon waking from his coma, it was revealed he can control the intensity and speed at which he drains cursed energy as long as the speed and amount exceed a certain threshold.  This threshold has yet to be officially established.

His temporary caretaker has reported he has difficulty sleeping, claiming that when he closes his eyes, he sees colorful outlines.  Upon further investigation, the outlines were that of cursed energy carriers (sorcerers, cursed corpses, etc).  In other words, the child is able to sense and perceive cursed energy in a vicinity of around 30 meters around himself with his eyes closed. 

The child’s control of the Cursed Weaver technique demonstrates basic mastery.  As of now, there are no leads explaining how this is possible.  

Despite being much more open with Yaga than other sorcerers, when probed about the details of the heavenly pact, he becomes visibly upset/distressed rather than hostile. 

In the meantime, staff have begun to refer to this pact as “evil”, “mutant”, and “unnatural”.  It is, of course, normal for many to be frightened by so many unknown factors, but it pains me that many are unaware of the potential developments that can be made into the science of jujutsu due to their fright. 

Despite myself and a large group of dissenters being against the name, CASE 0976, (surname) (name), has officially been dubbed “The Parasite”.’

JAZMIN BEAN : FAVORITE TOY

☺︎ taglist:

@angelkazusstuff @ahoeindeedinneed @wutap @mysouleaten @ilovebattinson @satansdaughter123 @http-l-o-k-i @rinaizha

masterlist: ☓

[campbyler]

why choose to do two parts of a chapter instead of just two separate ones? like doing 10.1 and 10.2 instead of just having 10.2 be chapter 11 instead (sorry if that makes no sense)

i think what anon meant was why didnt you make 10.2 a separate chapter thematically or literature-ally (? lol) instead of just physically? so like... 9.1 could have been called 'are we going somewhere?' and finished with that gorge cliffhanger of mike saying he's gonna teach will to drive. and then chapter 9 part 2 could actually have been chapter 10 both physically and from a literary point of view - if this was a published book, it would have been the actual next chapter. so 9.2 would instead become Chapter 10: I've Got You Baby (or some other title based on lyrics etc)

basically, once you realised the word count was taking you too far, they're wondering why you didn't split the events of the fic into more chapters than you originally have planned. perhaps is there a reason you are attached to a certain amount of chapters? otherwise, i think it would have still made sense for the drive date chapter and the bonfire night chapter to be split into two chaps each - many pro writers split chapters this way even when scenes in a single event are occurring.

of course its the writers' discretion to split chapters where they feel it fits, but i agree with anon that the ending of each half chapter makes a lot of sense as the ending of an actual chapter thematically!

i hope this makes sense haha

hello!! yes what you’re saying makes sense, and we appreciate the perspective!!

i think we did it the way we did for two main reasons — one, this is not a published book, so i do feel like it’s a little bit different since we have the liberty of doing whatever we want rather than being bound to any traditional rules. the second is that the chapters alternate povs, and it was important for all of 9 to be in will’s pov and all of 10 to be in mike’s pov because they’re the realization chapters.

to that point, i don’t agree with the notion that the ending of each half chapter is what makes sense as the thematic ending of the chapter. the themes of chapters 9 and 10 are Realizations. the point of ch09 is literally to get will to his realization — are we going somewhere? is a double meaning because they’re physically going somewhere and emotionally going somewhere. so while the mustang was a big focus in ch09, it was used as a vehicle (teehee) to give will the last push he needed to admit to himself how he feels. mike’s vulnerability in part i resolved a lot of will’s longstanding issues with mike, and the driving lesson’s purpose was to show how much they trust each other: mike trusts will with his car, and will trusts mike to be there for him, and mike being there for him is Truly the One Thing that will wasn’t sure about until ch09. all of these things needed to happen in the same chapter to contextualize that realization!

for 10, the focus is still on realizations — it’s also mike actually admitting to himself that he likes will, yes, but it’s also very much about that realization at the end that will needs to be the one to vocalize his feelings! whereas 9 spends the whole chapter justifying actions to get to the feelings realization, 10 starts with it and then spends the entire chapter trying to justify feelings he is already aware of. it was still important for these to be in the same chapter because it’s all completely connected!!

that said, because word count was really the only obstacle we had, the split chapters are two halves of a whole rather than being two distinct chapters. as we’ve said, this decision was done to benefit all of us — me and suni for writing purposes and being able to get chapters out sooner/avoid as much burn out as possible, and readers for not reading 50-60k chapters in one sitting. we already have a lot of talk about how long the chapters are, and we are both aware that we could probably cut certain scenes or events out, but we also are very adamant about maintaining a pace that feels realistic and makes sense, which usually leads to those higher word counts 😙 if we were to ever convert this into a published book (which we have no plans to), there would be a loooot to cut and we recognize that!! so shout out to the local ao3 for enabling our specific breed of insanity 🤸

[wemlygust]

This leads to Danny eventually discovering that he actually IS a changeling, and has been this whole time. Even before he died. He was never human. Suddenly so many things about his life and half-afterlife make sense. What do you MEAN lying isn't that hard for other people??! Cast iron pans don't sting your hands?!! Crisis aside, this discovery has some alarming implications: how and why did Ra's end up with a changeling son, as twin to his regular son? Did he know? Did Talia?

Danny, Damian & Constantine

Damian mistakes Danny for a faerie. Proceeds to follow all the fae rules he hears when around Danny. Constantine doesn't know what Danny is, figures fae is as good of a guess a any. Danny has no reason to disabuse them of this assumption.

[gutziez]

so. this is something I've wanted to say for months

im not really who i am for fucks sake half the time I don't know who I am its become way too blurred and I'm gonna share my past here and everything I've done so I have many points but one has been clawing at my from the inside like its trying to rip my throat to pieces from the inside of my esophagus Cassie and Ruby aren't dead they were never even real Cassie and Ruby are a projection of who I wish I knew who I wish I had for a friend but I got bored of them and killed them off in my mind and socially I'm very sorry faye but Cassie wasn't real she was a character she was someone I wanted to relate to I have no one but the people online even then I left Ares and Tame because I thought they'd judge me over fucking fictional characters and I was bored I wanted something to happen so I killed them I faked Ruby overdosing I faked Cassie stabbing herself its fake they aren't real they cant be dead because they never existed I'm sorry Faye I didn't want to make YOU hurt but you were just so close to me and its a sick form of entertainment at this point. Im too into the idea of human emotion and action and I hurt you with it. now for the other piece of this I'm sorry to literally everyone I've come into contact with I'm a lot of drama because I seek drama I just want some fucking emotion in my life and I create lies and more lies but those lies start to feel true I don't even know which parts of my life are real did he actually rape me did I actually get groomed for sex trafficking did he actually tell me I'd never be his son I don't know what's going on I'm losing memory and sense of self I cant do this shit ive gone through blog and blog and blog delete the old account and go to a new one I've gone by so many names Ace Star Azalea Ollie Oliver Aspen I don't even know if I can count them all I'm thinking about changing it again for fucks sake but I cant because he'll judge me and refuse to call me by my chosen name because of how fluid I feel about myself is I don't even know if Nyx or Evelyn exist anymore I cant and no please just please don't forgive me call me a piece of shit degrade me for what I've done for all of the people I've hurt by clicking the fucking delete button by lying by being a piece of living trash please Faye just call me the worse thing you can think of and move on from me I don't see a point in my life anymore and if you forgive me I'll end up hurting you more just let yourself leave. I would say I love you but I'm a fucking monster I'm horrible why would I fake someones existence and then make them die just to feel something I'm not okay not to mention the amount of other people I've put through stuff just for the sake of attention and drama

im a stupid fucking attention whore

im sorry Aster too I think I ended up faking my death or I just left silently I think I went by Ace or Ollie I don't remember it was like a year ago maybe less I'm sorry for that I wish you the best don't forgive me please I shouldn't be forgiven

i love everyone but I'm also a piece of shit Ill leave my account up for a little while so everyone can get their "kill yourself"s out I will be listening to the messages tell me to relapse and die

@f4y3w00d5 @amethyst-aster @lils-ki @tameable50

i don't remember the others ive hurt the most but you could at least show others so they can point and laugh

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Squeaky Clean 3

Warnings: non/dubcon and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: Steve Rogers

Summary: You start work as a maid but you’re not prepared for the mess your client brings with him. (maid AU – plus!reader)

Note: yeah…

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

Your work is cursory. There’s really no need for you to be there Monday to Friday but you won’t complain for the pay check. Or the repetition. You prefer habit over spontaneity. When you took on the job, your biggest concern was the unpredictability. 

That day, the house is empty as you work. You’re relieved. It’s easier to just do you sweep through, mop a bit where needed, dust surfaces that are still clean from the day before. It’s not as tedious as when you need to keep conversation with your hovering client. 

As you empty the crumb tray of the toaster, your peace is punctured. The front door opens and closes and you hear Steve’s voice. He’s not talking to you, if he even expects you to be there. 

“Sam, yeah, I don’t know,” he sounds agitated. “I called him. Didn’t pick up for me either. Shoot.” 

There’s a silence as he listens to the other end of the conversation. You slide the tray back in the appliance as you tip toe around. You collect the errant crumbs from the counter top.  

“My shoulder...” Steve groans. “I know, I know, you told me--” 

You’re half-startled as Steve appears in the kitchen door, his shirt pulled up to his chest, crooked as he has one shoulder free of it. He freezes as you face him cluelessly. He clears his throat. 

“Uh, Sam, call ya back.” He hangs up and nears the island, setting the phone down. He pushes his arm back in his shirt and pulls it down, covering his muscled stomach as his eyes drift away bashfully. “I didn’t hear you.” 

“That’s fine,” you assure him. “Finishing up.” You go to the bin and dust off your hands over it. You let the lid shut. “Bag’s only half full, I’ll take it tomorrow.” 

“No problem,” he says. 

You’re quiet as you gather up your cleaner and cloth. You bring it all to the door as he heads in the same direction. You both stop right at the threshold, unsure of the other. 

“Hey, uh, so... everything okay? Anything I can do to make your job easier?” he asks. 

The reply that flickers wouldn’t be very nice. You’re sure it would be much simpler without him always asking you that. Still, you have to appreciate his concern. Another girl in the agency told you about how her client barely says a word. Of how nervous it makes her.  

Steve makes you uneasy in a different way. Is there a such thing as too nice? You’ve been told you’re too pessimistic so surely the pendulum can swing in the other direction. 

“Everything’s fine,” you assure him. 

“I try not to leave too much mess,” he says with a smile. 

“Right, that’s... good. Thanks.” 

Slowly, you inch forward. You squeeze past him into the next room. Despite your efforts to shrink, you still manage to brush against him. You swear his fingers tickle just along your thigh. You don’t linger to think about it. Or rather, overthink it. 

You put your things in your kit and give a once over. His shadow looms in the kitchen door as he watches you. Again, you get the sense that he might have control issues. Some people just can’t let go of the steering wheel. 

“Hey, uh, I got an odd request,” he steps forward before you can return to the entry way. 

You pause and step back to face him, “alright?” 

“I was training this morning,” he reaches and rubs his shoulder, “you know, I think I stretched something and I can’t quite reach--” 

You blink as your brows draw together. He’s not asking you to do that, is he? 

“I know it’s kinda weird. You can say no,” he keeps his hand clamped around his muscle. “It’s just tugging the back of my neck like a fish hook.” 

“No,” you say, almost a bit too quickly. “No, I don’t think I can do that.” 

“Ah, yeah, obviously,” he chuckles. “You’re just the maid. It’s probably against the rules, huh?” 

You stare at him, fighting not to let your expression curdle. That’s very strange. This is strange. If anyone knew that Captain America was this socially awkward, they might not be star struck by the golden mane and shining shield. 

“Yep,” you say. “Uh, anyway, I think I got everything.” 

“You know,” he crosses the room as you flit out into the entryway. “I wouldn’t ask if it didn’t really hurt. I just, you know, I’m here alone. Don’t really have anyone else to ask.” 

“Sorry about that,” you shrug as you zip up your jacket. “You could try a masseuse.” 

He crosses his arms and stands over you as you pull on your shoes. “Yeah, that’s a good idea.” 

You stand up and go to grab your kit. He bends too, coming so close, you feel his breath. You look up and your noses nearly touch. You recoil and rip your hand away, knocking the bucket so the long duster and the roll of paper towels spill out. 

“Oh, uh, you surprised me,” you bend to gather up the roll and duster. 

“No problem, just trying to help,” he towers over you as you slowly straighten. You gulp and reach for the handle of your kit. 

“That’s nice of you but I think I got it,” you put your hand around the plastic, right next to his, but he doesn’t let go. You hug the armful of supplies as you tug lightly. “Really, I got it.” 

He yanks back so you’re forced closer to him. Your skins speckles and stings with sweat. You bat your eyes up at him. “So, you spend all day cleaning, you must get sore. What do you do?” 

“Erm,” you narrow your eyes as you feel his grip tighten on the kit. “A hot bath, I guess?” 

“Hot bath...” he echoes. “Sounds nice.” 

“Maybe some epsom salts,” you suggest and try to wiggle the bucket. “Steve, uh, I gotta go.” 

He nods, “you gonna have a hot bath?” 

Your chest feels clogged as you try not to falter. You’re not overreacting. He’s being... a lot. 

“I got another job,” you utter. “Please...” 

Your voice cracks without meaning to. You stare up at him and his brows rise slightly. He lets go of the bucket and smiles. 

“Sure, sure, you work so hard,” he turns his palms out then firmly braces his hips, striking that classic Cap pose. “I hope you get that hot bath.” 

You put the towels and duster back in the bucket and hold it with both hands. You grit your teeth and back up. “See ya tomorrow.” 

“See ya then,” he winks. 

You hurry for the door and he follows. You almost feel like he’s chasing you. You feel foolish for that thought as he pulls the door open and lets you out. You don’t look back as you flee. Can he see how uncomfortable you are? Does he even care? 

You’re starting to think this might not be a control thing. Not in the way you thought. 

[eldritch-bf]

The Terror // book v. show

A non-exhaustive list since there’s a lot. Some work better for the show being a visual medium or are understandable given the episode constraints. Some are definitely for the better. Others are for the worse.

Characters

A few roles and personalities are flipped around. In the book Sir John is less sympathetic and I was happy when he died. Crozier is also less sympathetic because he’s super racist like the rest of them to the Netsilik. More on that later. This nicer Crozier works better imo. FitzJames is wayyyy less of a blowhard in the book. Most of the time they just focus on how he’s the Handsomest Man in the Royal Navy. He’s pretty and a good listener to Crozier, who is much angrier all the time in the book.

Goodsir’s role as Silence’s friend/possible romantic interest/protector/interpreter is Irving’s role in the book. Goodsir in the book also annoys some of the men more, at least in the first half (he is physically weak and not Really a Doctor).

Irving in the show is very pray/work the gay away Mr Hickey but book Irving is more Uncomfy and Just Doesn’t Wanna Get Involved

But book Hickey also kills Irving because he’s concerned Irving is gonna snitch and he and his bf would be executed (either for being gay or for the suspected mutiny plotting). He doesn’t kill him for food.

Hickey isn’t with Gibson, he’s with Magnus, and he actually loves Magnus, who is later shot by Crozier, and Magnus is a much bigger deal (both literally and literarily) as he’s got the strength and size of like 5 or 10 strong men, is well-liked by the whole crew, is somewhat dumb, and will do anything Hickey tells him to. Magnus is Crozier’s biggest concern when it comes to the mutiny.

In fact, when Irving discovers them, Magnus initially takes a very threatening step toward Irving, and Hickey simply tells him ‘no’ and Magnus obeys. It’s also Crozier who threatens to send Magnus down to sit in the dead room with the ghosts he’s so afraid of, not Irving.

Hickey is distraught over Magnus getting shot. He threatens Goodsir violently if Magnus “gets so much as a stomach ache”. Magnus takes weeks to die of from sepsis or internal bleeding or something (injuries Goodsir intentionally mistreated). Hickey stayed with his body for days until he lets the Tuunbaq kill him. (Which refuses to eat his soul.) He also definitely lost is mind, thinking he was a god and could resurrect Magnus and all the men whenever he wanted.

Also in the book Hickey, Magnus, and Aylmore get their lashings for disrespecting the late Sir John at the carnivale. Magnus sobs like a child the whole time which the men find extremely upsetting considering he’s a big brawny somewhat stupid guy that they all love. Hickey receives his lashings last and iirc just takes them completely silently while staring down Crozier.

So in the book Hickey mostly wants to kidnap Crozier to torture and then execute him because he hates him for class reasons, for being a dick, or order him and Magnus lashed, maybe for threatening Magnus with the ghosts, etc.

Silence

In the book, Silence can’t speak from the beginning, but in the show she can. This works better avoiding the trope of having natives be incapable of communicating with colonizers, and also gives us the name of the Tuunbaq right away.

However in the book it works better with her not being able to speak as well as her personality being very different (she basically never reacts to anything) to the effect of making the men and reader uncertain if she’s helping the creature, afraid of it, or literally is the creature. We lose that sense of uncertainty as the viewer.

She’s also waaaaay more creepy in the book bc she shows almost no expression or emotion despite the fact that as Crozier later discovers even though she can’t really speak English she did understand what they were communicating. There’s a part where she and Crozier are walking alone in the snow between the two ships and she “runs off”, comes back. hands him the mitten or something of a crewmate who is later found cut in half and then disappears into the blizzard.

Her name reveal works better in the book bc it doesn’t make sense that she didn’t mention her name once to Goodsir in the months they spent together. Plus in the book we are given the context that Silna’s name is a combination of Sedna and Sila, described as the sea and air goddesses, respectively.

Also, and this is really important, as it’s mentioned fucking over and over again, Silence isn’t like 30 or whatever age she appears to be in the show. She’s repeatedly mentioned as basically looking like she’s 15 or 20, no one can tell. But Goodsir does examine her for injuries and reports that she’s a virgin.

This fact is mentioned as unusual by the men who are familiar with the Inuit for what I assumed was their racist idea of indigenous women and girls as hypersexual. But we will unfortunately see that this detail was some kind of foreshadowing.

Also Sir John is disturbed by Silence because he met her like 30 years ago and she hasn’t aged or something. Something he realizes when he accidentally sees her naked and recognizes her nipples?

Tuunbaq

The design for the creature’s face in the show is dumb as fuck I’m so sorry it looks like the yeti from the seasons greetings meme also it canonically had black empty eyes like a polar bear not those uncomfortable uncanny valley human eyes

In the book the lore is that the Tuunbaq was created by Sedna to kill the spirit of the air and the spirit of the moon, who defeat it (but can’t kill it), causing it to return and attempt to kill its creator, who anticipated this as a likely scenario, and instead banished it to the human world. Shaman have to have children with other shaman who work to communicate and appease the Tuunbaq (offering it food, not invading its territory without permission cough cough Englishmen cough), as it cannot be killed, only appeased or angered.

Then in the show it chokes to death on Hickey’s body and Crozier’s chain…

However in the show the Tuunbaq’s role is closer to a protective guardian of the Inuit, or simply a spirit balancing nature. So by it being killed by Englishmen who obviously don’t stop colonizing, added with Crozier’s attempt to get the rescue teams to turn back and not look for the passage, it’s the beginning of the end for the world as the Netsilik knew it (and the environment which is mentioned in the book, as well as the poor bears dying, the ice melting, etc.) as more and more white men will keep coming and nothing can stop them, not even the Tuunbaq nor Crozier’s doomed attempt to trick/frighten them away.

But yeah, in the book the Tuunbaq does not die, which leads me to the last point:

Ending

The book ending is quite different and I think the tv show ending is better, even if I don’t love the tv show ending (just feels a bit rushed but what do you do) personally I would have preferred something like Crozier makes it back to the Terror and waits for the ship to sink in the summer thaw and dies with the ship. However Crozier IRL may have actually survived according to Inuit testimony.

In the book, Silence rescues Crozier after he’s shot with a pistol and a shotgun by Hickey during his attempted and unsuccessful kidnapping. The whole time she’s nursing him back to health I was thinking why the fuck is she doing this. And the whole time Crozier is still calling her a savage despite also being intrigued by her Arctic survival skills including hunting which his men were totally terrible at

Well she saved him because I forgot to mention this but in the book Crozier and Silence are both clairvoyants. They can see bits of the future and stuff happening far away though Crozier sucks at it. As they sleep next to each other they dream the other person’s dreams, which is the way we get exposition on some Inuit spiritual beliefs including lore and the name of the Tuunbaq, as Crozier is dreaming Silna’s dreams.

And we learn that uh. Since shamans are only supposed to have kids with other shamans to pass down their powers so. Yeah they’re supposed to get married. And Crozier wakes up in the middle of the night with her stroking his cock and they fuck.

Not to mention how at this point Crozier still can’t communicate with her. Was kinda gross of him focusing on how good deflowering a virgin feels, and also how before this he repeatedly mentioned how much prettier pink nipples and white skin were compared to the dark native girls.

He also does the ritual to become a shaman for the Tuunbaq which including Inuit throat singing which I would have liked to hear in the show but oh well.

And then it basically cuts to 2 years later and they have a family together and can communicate through touch telepathy and it’s repeatedly brought up that she’s his wife and will do anything he wants even move with him to America and live in the city and be miserable and die. (EDIT: they don’t go to America, they stay in the Arctic together, but Crozier considers it and knows she would do whatever he wanted even if it made her miserable, because she’s his wife and that’s what wives do I guess.)

Anyway so I was kinda happy the show changed that ending.

[okdeannawrites]

From the prompt list:

unconsciously including them in conversation when they're not even around

millinerswings asked:

From the prompt list:

unconsciously including them in conversation when they’re not even around

Author’s note: This ask didn’t state they wanted Sterek for the prompt fill, but that is who I write the most now, so I hope it’s okay that I wrote this with them in mind.

WHEN YOU’RE NOT AROUND

“Derek’s favorite color is amber,” Stiles asserted, shoving another couple of fries into his mouth. “Can you believe that? Amber, and not even yellow and orange amber. But like a brown amber, which is beyond ridiculous.  I mean—”

Glancing up from his now-empty carton, he’s met with several stares, ranging in tones of confusion to horror to… wait, is that suspicion in Lydia’s eyes. “Why are you guys looking at me like that?”

Scott cleared his throat. “Derek isn’t here, Stiles. Why do you keep bringing him up in conversation with us all the time?”

Stiles blinked. Then blinked again. “Were we not talking about favorite colors just now?”

“No, we were, but… what does Derek have to do with that? He isn’t even in Beacon Hills anymore, and how do you even know his favorite color? When did you guys even discuss it?”

Stiles frowned. He didn’t bring Derek up in conversation all the time. Hell, he barely even talked about the guy at all when they weren’t actively running for their lives because of him—or rather someone determined to kill him.

“It came up once,” Stiles said, waving his hand about. “And what’s the big deal? It was just a conversational anecdote. I thought that’s what we were doing. Talking. Conversing. Getting to know each other better.”

“We were. We just fail to see how us getting to know each other better includes anecdotes about a man who isn’t currently sitting here or in town,” Lydia paused, then added, “or even the country.”

Stiles froze. She made it sound like he— That he—

He swallowed, and pointed his finger at her, “That is not what this is. I just added to the conversation. That’s it.”

“Right. Because Scott, Malia, and I want to know about Derek’s favorite color.”

“And Derek’s favorite soda to drink,” Malia included, furrowing her brow.

And Derek’s favorite ice cream flavor,” Scott said, eyeing him with some kind of growing sense of… understanding? “Dude. Why didn’t you tell me?”

Stiles glared at him—at all of them. “What are you guys even talking about right now? I mentioned him three times. So what? He’s our friend, right? Or he was our friend. Maybe. I don’t know. It’s complicated, but he was here, right? We all know him.”

“Yes, but none of us as well as you do, it seems.”

Tipping her head sideways, Lydia met his gaze and asked, “Why is that, Stiles? I would think, out of everyone, you would know Scott, me, or Malia the best, and yet, when asked to name something we know about each other, you mentioned Derek. Not once. Not twice. Not even three times, but eight, Stiles. You mentioned him eight times, and I know it was eight because I started counting at the first one.”

Fuck his life.

Why did she pick now to be so damn observant of him? And why the hell hadn’t he realized he was talking about Derek too much? Was his focus so shot that he didn’t even know he spoke about the guy aloud anymore?

Shaking his head, Stiles looked at his friends and sighed. “Alright, you’ve made your point. Now forget about it and let’s move on.”

“Sure,” Scott said, eyeing him thoughtfully, “but what is Derek’s favorite song?”

Stiles groaned and tossed his empty fry carton across the table at him. “Knock it off and hand me your leftovers. I’m still hungry and someone—” looks pointedly at Malia— “ate half my burger.”

“If you hadn’t been talking about Derek so much, you would have eaten all your food before I could steal any of it.”

She wasn’t wrong. But that didn’t make her right to call him out about it. “You three suck,” he said, reaching out to take the second burger Scott had yet to touch. “And to think I actually call you guys my friends.”

“We are your friends. We’re just surprised to discover we’re also competing with an older werewolf for the title.” And with that Lydia glanced down at the phone in her hand, leaving no doubt that the conversion—and the teasing—was now over.

Thank God. He didn’t know what he would do if they kept going with it. It was bad enough he’d have to think about it when he went home tonight, and every night in the foreseeable future, too.

All because a fucking werewolf he didn’t hate split his damn focus.

Didn’t that just figure?

[ebongawk]

number 5 for the meme

5. A firm kiss

They were friends.

Best friends, actually.

Like, the best of friends.

And Eddie had never been so goddamn remiss about something in his entire life.

Don't get him wrong, he loved being Chrissy's best friend. She was smart and funny and brave and drop-dead gorgeous.

He also just kinda loved Chrissy, so. Y'know. There was that.

And yeah, okay, so maybe he'd been carrying this little torch for nigh on fifteen years now. So, like, over half his life at this point. And, yeah, alright, sue him, he'd never told her that, but what was he gonna do, drop to his knees and profess his love? Squash the friendship they've worked so hard to build when she laughed in his face?

Nah. Fuck that.

They'd only reconnected post-high school in the last few years. And so what if Eddie hadn't, like, looked at another girl since Chrissy unexpectedly stumbled back into his life in fucking Philadelphia, of all places? So what if he spent his free time away from the studio with her, watching movies and cooking meals and doing all the cutesy date shit he'd seen other couples doing without actually dating her? So what if the guys ribbed him constantly for being a rocker on the verge of stardom who was whipped by a girl he'd never even kissed?

So fucking what?

He would probably move on someday. Once Chrissy ended her years-long dry spell and found some nice guy to settle down with, solidifying the inevitable depths of their friendship that he hadn't quite come to terms with yet. Then he could dive headfirst into the women who were constantly hovered around him like bees around some extra-pollinated flower without feeling this insane sense of guilt for cheating on the gorgeous, eternally-out-of-his-league girl he wasn't even dating.

Someday.

Maybe today?

They'd just played a fucking phenomenal show. Put their entire souls into it, actually, because Jeff had on good authority that the label they'd just signed with had some bigwigs in the crowd to observe them. Find out just how much potential the band had so they could promote them properly.

There was a girl in the crowd that kept making eyes at him. Pretty enough, he supposed, with dark makeup and dark hair. Tall. Standing on the edge of the stage with a little smirk designed to hide the type of unspoken promises that had his gut curling.

And, y'know, not with guilt. Of fucking course not.

He and Chrissy were the best of friends. And, he reminded himself as he slipped his way backstage, if something was gonna happen, it would've happened by now.

This girl just happening to be Chrissy's polar opposite in every conceivable way was meaningless.

They packed up their gear into the van over whoops and hollers. Talking at length about how fucking incredible they just were, because vanity had no jurisdiction amidst their accomplishment. Once that was loaded up, Eddie bid the guys farewell with every intention of going to find that girl.

When he got back inside, however, he felt like he got socked in the fucking gut. In the bad way.

Chrissy was there. Sitting at the bar, sipping on a drink. Legs crossed under a little pink skirt that made him lose his fucking mind as she leaned toward the person sitting next to her.

The guy sitting next to her.

What the fuck. What the fuck? He hadn't even known she was coming tonight. And who was this fucking clown looking at her like she was the most charming person to ever grace his presence? She was, of course, but who fucking gave him the right to look at her like that?

Taking a deep, slow breath, Eddie reminded himself through a little mantra that she wasn't his. She was just his friend. And she was allowed to sip her drinks and bat her lashes at whoever the fuck she wanted.

Even if the thought made steam blow out of his ears.

"Hey," someone called over his shoulder. Eddie whipped around to see the girl from the crowd there. Sauntering up to him with swaying hips and that same smirk that made his uncomfortable stomach roil. "You're the guitarist, right?"

Fuck. Fuck.

"Yeah," Eddie responded. Puffing out a breath and pulling his best nonchalant grin out of his ass, he said again, "Yeah. That's me, honey."

He leaned up against the nearest table, putting Chrissy in his periphery. Watching her from the corner of his eye as she laughed at probably the worst joke known to humankind, as told by a clown.

The new girl looked him up and down, appreciation obvious, and her grin grew. Showing off sharp canines and a knowing glint in her eye.

"You guys played really good tonight," she continued. "Though I've been to a few shows now, and you're always pretty fantastic."

"Oh yeah?" Eddie responded, crossing his arms and popping his eyebrows. "What, you consider yourself a bonafide fan, then?"

She giggled, introducing herself with a name Eddie immediately forgot. Glancing over right as Chrissy looked at him, finally seeming to register his presence.

Was it just him, or did something in her face drop all at once?

The girl continued talking to him, but Eddie could not reiterate their conversation if someone held a gun to his head. Instead, he watched curiously as Chrissy left her half-finished drink on the bar and said something to Bozo before getting up and bolting out the front door.

Huh. What the fuck was that?

"So," the girl said, tilting her head to one side and catching his attention. "Are you gonna buy me a drink? Or should we just get out of here?"

"Yeah, uh, gonna have to pin that shit right here, actually," Eddie responded as he jumped to his feet. When did this girl get so close to him? No wonder he felt claustrophobic and a little nauseous. "Sorry, kid."

"Another time?" she asked, pouting a little. The snort Eddie stifled came out as a cough.

"Uh, yeah, sure," Eddie said before giving a meager salute and taking off after Chrissy. He heard the girl shout something at him, maybe trying to entice him back, but Eddie's ears were no longer open to the voices of anyone else in existence.

Chrissy was a full block away already. Brisk pace making her little skirt swish back and forth in time with the rapid beating of his heart.

"Chrissy," he called as he jogged after her. Watching her shoulders freeze, her gait coming to an unexpected halt. She didn't turn around, her body curling away from him as he caught up to her. "Hey! What, uh. What're you doing here?"

Why'd you run away?

"Hi, Eddie," she replied, her voice soft. "I, um. I just came to see you guys. Jeff said it was supposed to be a big show."

Ducking down, Eddie tried to catch her gaze. Something caught in his throat when she resolutely turned away from him.

Swallowing it heavily down, he stood up straight again. Fully taking a step back.

"Yeah? What'd you think?"

"You guys played really well," she said, though not with the enthusiasm with which she normally praised the band. "You, um. You really blew the roof off that place."

God. He'd never heard her sound so... lifeless. Why the fuck was she so upset?

"Yeah, uh, thanks, sweetness." She didn't respond outside of a brusque nod, and Eddie cleared his throat. Grasping at straws without understanding why he was reaching for nothing when conversation had never been so stilted between them. "I wish you'd've told me you were coming out. Coulda, like, I dunno, made a night of it or something."

"Seems like you had your night pretty well figured out," Chrissy shot back, something dark and viscous replacing the absence of emotion in her voice.

"Uh?"

"Why did you even come after me, Eddie?" Chrissy spat, finally, finally reeling on him. Anger blazed brightly in her eyes, taking Eddie aback so fully he flinched. The abrupt change in her demeanor had him so goddamn confused his mind whited out for a second. "Like, what's the point? Why are you here?"

"Why are you here?" he volleyed back, unconsciously matching her tone. "Huh? Why didn't you tell me you were coming? Or did you even come to see us?"

"What the hell does that mean?"

Eddie scoffed. "I saw you with that fucking clown in there."

"What does that matter?"

"What do my evening plans matter?"

"Because you were flirting with that girl!"

"So were you!" Eddie fired, fully stepping into Chrissy's personal space. "You were acting all coquettish and shit, I saw you! And it doesn't even fucking matter if I was flirting with her, because I fucked off as soon as I saw you run out! Which is so damn stupid on my part, because you don't even want me!"

"Of course I want you, you moron!" she practically screamed in his face. Bringing him entirely up short, all of the upset she still displayed draining out of his bones. "That guy in there? I was playing you up for him! He's with your freaking studio! I've wanted no one but you for years! You just don't even see me!"

That brought the anger right back. Completely disregarding her admission of trying to cozy up to the bigwig Jeff had mentioned. "Are you fucking kidding me?" Cupping her cheeks in his hands, Eddie pressed closer. Forcing her to grab the lapels of his jacket to hold her balance. "I don't see anything else, Chrissy. You live in the back of my brain, hovering around with your pretty pink nails sunk into the membrane. Every–– Every time I close my eyes, every time I blink, it's with your imprint behind my eyelids. And then I go to bed at night and fucking dream about you and me and all the shit I fucking wished we had and––"

He didn't get to finish.

She pushed up onto her dainty little toes and cut him off with a kiss.

It was firm. Warm. A little hard, still stuck on the leftover vestiges of her anger. The slight click of teeth, but Eddie was already holding her. It took nothing, nothing at all, for him to kiss her back. To hold her in place and fucking devour her with every piece of himself she already held in her palms. All of the soft, gooey pieces of him she could smush into the fucking concrete beneath their feet if she so chose.

She didn't do that, though.

Instead, she threw him straight into the void of space. His body coming to rest across a bed of stars that fizzled and popped across his skin. Bursting on contact, the sparking pieces embedded themselves into his skin. Burrowing beneath flesh and muscle and wrapping like vines around his bones.

The buzz of his starry new veins didn't fade until she slowly lowered herself back to the ground, then ignited anew when Eddie chased her lips. Slowing the desperation of their kiss until she was the soft, gooey pieces he had no choice but to hold aloft.

As though he ever wanted anything else touching his hands.

Finally, after an eternity in the stars, he pulled back to let her breathe. Resting his forehead against hers so she was nothing but a blur of flushed cheeks and stormy blue eyes.

"I've wanted to do that," he began around a stuttered exhale, "for so goddamn long."

He watched her eyes flick back and forth between his. Felt the expanse and collapse of her chest as she took another slow, deep breath.

"I was afraid," she admitted after a moment. "I was terrified, actually. That you'd... That you didn't want me the way I wanted you. And that, if I told you how I felt––"

"It'd ruin us," Eddie finished. Chrissy nodded.

"But I've wanted that, too," she said. "I've wanted you, Eddie."

The next kiss was a slow evolution. A soft, exploratory expanse of new beginnings hidden in the uncharted depths science couldn't possibly discover alone.

"You have me, sweetness. You have me."

kiss roulette!