#everyone needs to read this right fucking now

[andersonfilms]

i have so many thoughts swarming in my mind at the moment. hopefully i can collect my bearings enough to make sense, even if it is just for a moment. first and foremost, i just want to say how wonderfully articulate this piece of absolutely wonderful fiction is. honest to god, from the very start, the message of it became crystal clear from the very beginning until the end. truthfully, it's something i'm so envious of as a writer but as a reader — it was so exciting to read. in the beginning of it, you did an insightful job of showing where sevika is and where she stands. it's quite wonderful to see how you built it in the beginning. for me, it's really this subtle build up in the introduction that really sells you on where the story is heading. a vision so clear, a canvas so clean, you can almost see your reflection in it. you paint such a lovely picture. still, i'm trying to wrap my head around it. like each stroke, with a flick of the brush, the full portrait comes into view as you try to unfold the meaning of it. it could be because i have a very personal and emotional attachment to the concept of this fic but goddamn did it just reel me in.

this was the first analogy which really stood out to me the most.

the dark chocolate she’s nibbling on is cheap and tastes identical to the plastic wrapper it came in, and the burn of the whiskey is only adding to the bitter taste. but at least it soothes her mind. she sighs, flicks off the television, and heads for the shower. the last thing she wants to be right now is even more wet, but the promising warmth of the water will at least soothe some of the pain in her shoulders.

in the beginning, there's a lot of extremely well done imagery but this really stand out the most to me. whether it's intentional (which it's you ofc it is, you and your brilliant mind i'm actually so very obsessed with it) but i love how you did this one moment. it's such a small detail, maybe even easy to dismiss, but i really enjoyed the pairing of the bitterness of the chocolate versus the burn of the whiskey. with the next sequence that follows, truthfully, it's so cinematic with how it falls in line with what happens next. the world building in the first passage is just something i don't think i have had the pleasure in reading in quite some time. personally, i've been on a book tear and this sliver of imagery is well and intentionally placed, it truly makes me feel inspired, more than these so called novels i've been reading. if anything, i'm just convinced i need an ennabear novel in my hands yesterday. the way you introduce and pace your storylines is truly remarkable. it always leave an everlasting impression on me. even changes the way i would normally think to write something and paints it in a new perspective. dear god, i think this reblog is going to be so astronomically long. hopefully, i'll be able to round out what i'm trying to say by the end of it. #raycore.

“it’s okay,” she coos. “would you like a lollipop?” the kid sniffles at this, but lifts her head up and nods at her. sevika digs into the small bag on her waist, pulling out a bright blue sucker for the little one that matches her hair. she takes it in her small hands and unwraps it, eyes sparkling at the sight of the blue raspberry favored sugar. sevika just hopes her parents don’t kill her. with the kid in her arms— who is now joyfully sucking on the lollipop instead of soaking her in tears and snot— she makes her way downstairs. sevika’s no stranger to lost children, and she’s fond of their company. it’s refreshing to hear them describe colors and patterns in the paintings instead of overanalyzing it and telling stupid facts about the artist. and she loves that she can finally give back to the world, bringing the kiddos comfort like she never received from her own parents.

this entire exchange just had me in a mountain of tears for several reasons. for one, act two of arcane, a reunion that winded me. even in this alternate universe, just one fated meeting, i am floored back into the ruins of act two. another thing i want to point out is how sevika's personality really shines through on the dialogue. she's very decisive when she chooses to speak, low-grunts, soft aggression, and sarcastic remarks laced with a tone of concern, and then when she finally drops everything and it's just her kind, beating heart. definition of could kill you but actually a teddy bear. from the get go, you encapsulate all of it so perfectly. this version of sevika is someone who has been burned but you still this softness to her. an act of kindness to someone who embodies the innocence that only adolescence comes with. but as a pure angst lover the last line stuck out to me the most, bringing the kiddos comfort like she never received from her own parents. it's a very subtle, but meaningful drop and if you blink, you nearly miss it. it's the small little details i fear i gravitate to so much but fuck is it wonderful.

“that she is!” the mother cheers. “god bless you, sevika, seriously. i’ll never be able to repay you.” she smiles proudly, not necessarily because she believes in a god, but she’s just glad to get the kid back and hopefully end the conversation soon. “thank you ma’am. it’s no problem, really. it’s my job.”

enna, you’re a fucking genius.

this is just. fucking hell let me collect my thoughts for a moment. alright. honest to god, no pun intended, the way you slithered the concept of religion in is the smoothest i’ve ever seen. it nearly melts into the pages, ink dispersing on the fine lines. each line melting into the other like butter on a pan. again, i’m such a whore for the details and this is such a huge one. this is fucking art. there’s really no other way to describe it. everything seems so well thought out, executed to perfection. i like that we get to know how she feels without her really even voicing it and from that point and moving forward, it sets the tone. again. world building and storytelling — it really is remarkable in the way you’ve managed to weave this web of craft that’s so honed in on.

as they approach the bottom of the stairs, she makes the tough decision to peek over the stretcher, eyes frantically searching around the spot she was only just standing in. and there she is. that little girl with her bright blue hair, now drenched in red. her lips are still blue from the lollipop, but she’s grown pale and cold. and gone. and sevika couldn’t protect her. before she closes her eyes, she takes in the scene one more time. piles of hair tangled together and skin melted into the floor. she’s seen some pretty outrageous things as a security guard, but never this. tears pour out of her eyes, the pain in her body making her wish she would’ve been taken out too. by what, she doesn’t know. she isn’t aware of where she is or what’s going on, all she knows is the pain in the left side of her body, and it’s all she’ll feel for the rest of her life.

the way you described this scene. please, just rip my heart out and put it through the shredder. it would be far less painful. you are so insane for this. and the tie in to the lollipop into dead, cold blue lips, AS IN A CORPSE. too fucking MUCH. my fucking goodness chat, it’s just too amazing i can’t really even be mad about it honestly. i wasn’t expected my heart to be be stomped on like this. poor baby isha. catching everything but a future. I CANT DO THIS. ITS TOO MUCH. but alas i will and i already have fully read this fic but goddamn. gotta respect the game, the angst is too cold, literally. also, i want to note the raw emotion sevika is exhibiting. truly, the way your write sevika is truly refreshing. i keep making canvas metaphors but it feels like you're painting her and as the depth of the story grows so does she, slowly coming out of the canvas until she comes to life. she becomes something really and tangible and it's through the emotinal lense you've chosen to write her in and it really is such a brilliant choice. your writing is shining so bright with this one. truly, i really admire it.

“sevika, don’t worry.” you assure her. “i’ll help you believe.” and the line goes quiet.

honorable mention, i just really enjoy the foreshadowing in this. i also think it's a really good representation of overzealous evangelicials even and how they recruit and almost the kind of desperation that goes with corruput intentions within religion. not that i directly has anything to do with this line, but it took my mind there. maybe it was just my trauma fucking kicking in and i'm getting flashbacks but the weight in this line is fucking destroying me personally.

no matter what you do, you can’t get this woman off of your mind. something about her makes you feel different than how other people make you feel, but you can’t tell what it is or why. you need a plan. you need to talk to her again. or at least some confidence would be handy. but instead of dwelling on it, you decide to go for a walk. the walk doesn’t really work though, it actually does the opposite of clearing your mind. you have nothing to focus on, no work to do, so you just think. your mind runs wild the whole time. you’re so intrigued, so excited yet nervous, you feel like it’s almost a craving. almost, because you’re not really sure what a craving is. not until you meet her, at least.

the gay awakenineneneningggggggg. it's fucking brewing! i don't know if i can even remember mine but this reallt reminds of just having a crush on a girl for the first time, it feel entirely different than anything has ever felt. as someone who figured it out later in life, THIS HITS FUCKING HARD. it's like your entire world is changing. your entire life you have looked through life in one lense but then someone comes along distorts your view. you really encapsulates that feeling, that expierence really well in the plants of doubt in this. truly, it's so beautiful.

huh. sevika at a liquor shop. not necessarily unusual for a person, but forbidden for you. you wonder if this is a ritual for her, if she’s gonna go home and get drunk or something, or maybe if she’s gonna split the bottle with some friends. does she even have friends? you turn around and head in the same direction she does, hoping your paths cross before her quick, long strides can leave you behind. and you eventually catch up to her, pretending you had no idea you’d run into her, you greet her with a “oh, sevika! hey, i didn’t expect to see you here.” except, you did expect to see her here. you already spied her storming out of the liquor store. ugh, you’re such a bad liar. “oh… hi.” she mumbles, a little disturbed by your sudden appearance, and already burnt out from the two people who’ve made small talk with her in the past hour. while you stand in front of her, she raises her eyebrow slightly as if to signal that she’s waiting for you to say something before she walks away.

the chasing!!!! the yearning!!!!! having a crush on a beautiful women and chasing her!!!!! yep, that's the fucking stuff. but also it shows the depravity and loneliness sevika is feeling and ptsd she’s feeling from the events. how her brain is processing the trauma she’s been through. i love that reader just sought sevika out, the pure curiosity hovering inside their head. god, this oc is really just perfect in the way you’ve crafted them.

when she told you, she couldn’t help but break down in heavy sobs. you could feel your heart shatter at this— the story and sevika’s reaction to it. you scrambled from your side of the booth to hers, scooting in next to her and wrapping her up in a hug as she cried. to your surprise, she hugged you back. she hooked her chin over your shoulder, grabbed you tightly in her strong arms, and just let herself go.

oh, this is everything. the raw emotion, the vulnerability, the trust — it’s so genuine it nearly has me crying. the first time you open up to someone, it’s a level of intimacy that can’t quite be matched. once the boundary is crossed, there really isn’t an option to come back from that. it’s a soft comfort, one that feels like a warm blanket you’ve been yearning for all your life. fuck, i love this so bad.

today you’re feeling particularly bold for some reason, you suspect it might be because of your friendship with sevika, but this feels different. well, you know how it feels, but you’re scared to admit it. although you’ll probably be fine, you’re hesitant to say it to yourself out of the fear that you’ll be thrown out of the church. yes, you like sevika, and sure, she is a beautiful woman. but you just can’t bring yourself to say it. to say that you have a real crush on her. to admit that you want her. so instead of saying anything, you use your actions instead. glancing over both of your shoulders, you make sure that nobody important is looking in your direction before you snake your hand forward and wrap your hand around sevika’s. this action is the farthest you’ve ever gone with anyone, and your cheeks are practically on fire with how hard you’re blushing. you wouldn’t be surprised if the whole building could hear your heartbeat right now. sevika adjusts her fingers so that she’s gripping your hand firmly, and you feel so… dirty, almost. you know that this is nothing, but you’re scared and ashamed of what other people might think. but although it initially feels wrong, you settle down when you realize that nobody’s looking— even more that nobody cares— and it feels so right. her hands are surprisingly warm and soft, they feel so welcoming and familiar against yours.

this section is literally making me so insane !!!!! in the best way possible. just another great example of how you’ve been able to really capture what it means to be a disciple of the faith but to feel wrong but it doesn’t. it was never wrong, it was always right. even if the church or your faith has told you to burn for it. anyone with religious trauma has felt this way and fuck, you literally just took my feelings out of my head and put them on paper. there’s nothing more remarkable than your ability make every emotion accessible in such a beautiful form. one that feels very real. i truly love it so much.

you looked up at her from your position on your knees, her torso looking impossibly longer than usual. something comes over you, something that warms up your stomach until you feel so dizzy you feel the need to reach for something to steady yourself. unaware of just how much trouble this would get you in, you end up grabbing for her upper thighs. they’re so thick that your hands are almost completely flat, but they’re sturdy. perfect for grabbing onto.

OKAYDJEDJEIFJCECFMJEUIF THIS FUCKING PART. THIS SHIT. THIS SHIT RIGHT HERE. ON YOUR KNEES LIKE SEVIKA IS YOUR ALTER. THIS IS TOO MUCH. TEWWWW MUCH. okay, let me calm down, just a little. but really. really, really, really — this itched my brain in such a lovely way. i will not be able to get over it ever. i'm pretty sure. the imagery, AGAIN. everything is so entirely connected. the flow of this fic is just insane. i'm seriously in awe. i've read this fic four times already. dw, it will be up to ten by the end of the week. #trust.

sevika studies your words in her mind, hoping that you’d still mean them if you could see the thoughts running wild in her mind right now. she inches closer to you and her nose almost brushes yours. the tension in the room makes her squirm, thighs pressing together in an attempt to soothe the ache between them. somehow, in some strange way, this feels better than sex. better than anything she’s ever smoked, any liquid she could get drunk on. you are her intoxicant. her stronger substance. her higher power. her breath of fresh air in this humid town. you are what she’s been searching for.

her higher power.

this line just fucking crushed me into pieces. i don't think you understand!!!!!! it's crossing the line of my religion vs her. discipleship vs love. it's a choice that no one should ever have to make. love is love. there's not a high power that should hold over the feelings we can't explain, it's just something we feel. something we can never be rid of. something we can't live without. i also love the parallel of reader being the greater vice than sevika's addiciton. you're more than the vices she's using to cope. you are more than just someone for her to get lost in. it's soft and gentle, and mesmirizing. it's inexplainable. it's love. it's truly such a beautiful perspective because it also undoes the idea, by the bigots, that we can choose who we love because we can't. it's not up to choice, reason, and it certainly doesn't offer us grace. love is ruthless, merciless, and often cruel but it can also be the best thing that's happened to us. okay i'm ranting so fucking bad but that line really shook me and i'm going to be thinking about it for the next five business years.

she shuffles under you as she slides her boxers off, and you almost drool at the sight of her bush. it’s just so… beautiful. and intimate. she pats your hips as a signal to scoot off of her, and she spreads her legs before manhandling you to sit your cunt on top of hers. as soon as you connect your cunt with hers, you swear you black out. it all feels so good. she keeps spreading her legs wider to help you get a better angle against her clit, and you can feel it throbbing against yours. you thought holding her hand was intimate, but this is so much more than you could’ve imagined. “fuck, sevika.” you moan, tears crashing over you again and dripping onto her cheeks now. “you’re so beautiful.”

okay. okay. okay. i’m going in sane with love for this. so fucking bad. it’s not even a joke anymore. loving and intimate sensual smut is always gonna fucking do it for me. literally. the beauty of being with a woman for the first time. not being able to control yourself on the uncontrollable wave. it will drown you if you’re not careful and it’s almost tragic. it’s haunting. it’s unexplainable. it’s love. leaving one belief to let yourself drown in what you’ve been told is a sin. it’s the foundation of finding faith in something tangible, something that offers and doesn’t take. god, this is really so fucking good. really perfect from top to bottom. the heartbeat of this story is so strong and i loved every moment of it. you never disappoint. banger, after banger, after banger.

this is truly one of the most introspective fics doing religious trauma and the fight between sexuality and faith so beautifully and respectfully. in the sly details, it really shows the inner battle between the consumption of addiction and how it can derail our lives, how through addiction we can never get through it alone, and also the guilt that comes with picking who we are over who we've been told to be. all of this is truly such a stunner and i don't think i 've read a piece of fiction laced with so much meaning in a while. it's so entirely refreshing. it has really reworked my brain in a way i haven't been able to explain. this is the second night i've been ranting in this outrageously long reblog, my goodness, can't writing anything short to save my life, but this deserved every ounce of love. truly exceptional, enna.

✞︎ ︎YOUR OWN PERSONAL JESUS.

SOMEONE TO HEAR YOUR PRAYERS. SOMEONE WHO CARES.

cw: religious!reader x sevika, inspo from personal jesus by depeche mode, dark themes [drinking addiction, religious crisis, trauma/ptsd, etc.], a mention of isha because i’m evil, as well as religious themes, nasty sloppy dirty sinful dyke sex [body worship + tribbing] 18+ 🧛🏿

word count: 14.1k

i. FEELING UNKNOWN AND YOU’RE ALL ALONE

sad, dull, gray, gloomy, what else could she use to describe it? constant rain, a chronic form of seasonal depression that lingered in the air no matter where she went. her therapist prescribed her some fresh air, but the air is never fresh here. it’s thick with fog, the humidity weighs down on your shoulders and makes it unbearable to trudge through. sure, the sun shines, but it never peeks out from behind the clouds, leaving the town in a dark, unsaturated gleam.

she crosses the threshold into her apartment, hair clinging to the back of her neck and the sides of her face due to a mix of humidity and sweat. her apartment might be more vapid than the outside world, it’s a small box that overlooks the parking lot and a few 24 hour diners across the street. the walls are all white, along with the ceiling and cabinets, and the carpet is scratchy and gray. she hardly has any furniture, a small couch with a tv propped up on a cardboard box facing it. no coffee table, chairs, or shelves, but she doesn’t spend much time out here anyways.

her ribs start to ache, and the growing hunger in her stomach only makes it worse. she scours her cupboards for a snack, and settles for half a bar of dark chocolate and a glass of whiskey. the couch is small and hard and it barely offers any comfort to her tired body. on the tv, the meteorologist blabbers away about the predicted weather for the week. she feels bad for him, the poor guy probably wanted a bigger and better job than this. foreseeing the same weather for 365 days straight. cold, cloudy, wet, maybe snow if we get lucky.

the dark chocolate she’s nibbling on is cheap and tastes identical to the plastic wrapper it came in, and the burn of the whiskey is only adding to the bitter taste. but at least it soothes her mind. she sighs, flicks off the television, and heads for the shower. the last thing she wants to be right now is even more wet, but the promising warmth of the water will at least soothe some of the pain in her shoulders.

a bone-chilling squeak rings out through the bathroom as she twists the faucet on, and the light flickers as if in response to the noise. sevika peels her clothes off, her sweatpants dropping to the floor and her shirt still trying to hang on to her body. her ribs are more prominent than they’ve ever been, and she can see her muscles slowly starting to wither away with how frequently she skips the gym.

steam fills the room, the foggy clouds of it wisp around her as she studies herself until she can’t see her reflection anymore. it’s all blurry— her reflection, the walls, her own hands in front of her face. her left arm has the deepest and darkest scars she’s ever seen, most of them are jagged from the way her stitches were inserted. she can hardly stand to look at herself anymore, so maybe it’s a good thing the mirror is fogged up.

in the shower she only washes herself for a quick second, rubbing a thin layer of soap all over her body and scrubbing her scalp with shampoo. she debates on adding conditioner, but she feels as if she’ll faint if she’s in the shower for another second. the hot water quickly runs out, and sevika only notices how scorching her water was when it switches over to room temperature.

as soon as she steps out of the shower, she wraps herself up in her towel, although there’s not really a point in that due to the holes and strings coming off of it. she makes a mental note to buy more towels, and just as she’s about to mope about another purchase to make, her phone blares an alarm warning her not to be late to her physical therapy appointment.

stumbling out of the bathroom, she trudges half nude to her liquor cabinet, aimlessly grabbing around for something strong. she pours herself a shot, and then another, and fuck, why not a third one? she doesn’t notice the burn as it goes down, her mind instead focusing on the ache in her left shoulder.

she pulls a shirt over her head and shoves her shoes on, finalizing her outfit with her black raincoat. she wears it nearly every day, partially because it’s always cold and rainy, and partially because it’s a good excuse to hide the thick scars that travel all the way up her body. her spine starts to ache as she walks to the clinic, but she doesn’t have money for a car, and she doesn’t know anybody in this town well enough to ask them for a ride.

the receptionist at the clinic doesn’t look up one single time as sevika checks in, and sevika wishes so badly that she could get paid to sit down and look at a computer all day. she takes a seat in the waiting room, slumping back and relaxing her muscles as she waits for her PT to invite her in. the clock on the wall ticks extremely loudly, she notices, but she decides to close her eyes and count the ticks until it’s finally her turn.

ii. FLESH AND BONE BY THE TELEPHONE

static muffles through her radio. she flicks the ashes of her cigarette out onto the pavement, watching as a pigeon across the street skitters around. another few crackles through her walkie talkie go ignored. it’s her break for fucks sake, and she’s only just starting to enjoy it.

“sevika?” her radio booms. she sighs, rolling her eyes and waiting for someone else to respond.

“sevika, we need you inside. your break is over.”

“my break is what? over.” she responds, giggling at her own smartass response.

“your break is over, god damn it. over.”

“roger.” she says, a hint of a smile still in her voice. “i’ll be inside in a second. over.”

she pulls her phone out of her pocket, double checking the new code for the security door. after punching it in, she swings the door open until it bolts shut behind her, and then makes her way to the lobby. the museum is huge, the lobby has floors that sparkle and shine no matter how many muddy shoes cross over them, and the rest of the stories are complete with floor to ceiling windows that are taller than she ever could’ve imagined.

as she crosses through a giant stone archway, her boss nods and waves her over. one of her coworkers is there too, both of them looking stern and serious. she steps into the small circle they’ve formed, lifting her eyebrows quizzically at the two of them. “well?” she asks. “what do you need?”

“what do i need? what i fuckin’ need from both of you is for you to do your fuckin’ jobs.” he spits, literally. droplets of his saliva collect in his beard as he digs into sevika and her coworker about ‘not doing their jobs.’

“what do you mean by that, sir?” her coworker asks.

“do you know how many people i’ve seen walk out of here with souvenirs stuffed into their pockets? that gift shop is gonna be desecrated by the end of the day.”

“respectfully, sir, we aren’t in charge of the gift shop. we only monitor the grounds of the museum, and you’re the one who hired us both to do that.” she says back.

“then go do ya fuckin’ job.” he growls, his thick boston accent shining through his attempt at a serious lecture.

she raises her eyebrows and turns around with her tongue in her cheek, heading up the large marble stairs. sevika can’t argue with that, and she loves her job. it’s easy— all she has to do is puff her chest to intimidate her guests, hand out lollipops to the little ones who are brave enough to wave at her, and occasionally answer a question about directions around the place. all of her coworkers love her, and she’s never felt more secure in her life before.

ascending the stairs, she eyes a beautiful young woman with blazing orange hair wandering into the gift shop and a smile on her face. that’s not the type of person who’d steal, she thinks, and she’s probably right. concealing her eyes are a pair of black sunglasses, and she’s finally thankful they’re part of her uniform now that she’s got direct sunlight hitting every corner of the second floor.

she inserts her earpiece into the side of her head, prepared although not excited to listen to her coworkers chat and complain for the rest of the day. she flicks around until she connects to the private channel, and then continues to stroll around the second floor.

people of all ages wander through the halls. kids being scolded by their parents, awkward adults grasping clammy hands on their first date, seniors leaning on their walkers and canes as they reminisce about famous painters. the community is so beautiful, so important to her, she’d do anything to protect it. this place is like her second home, and she’s made some of the best friends of her life here. not to mention the fact that it’s taken her years to memorize her way around the place, so now it’s even more special to her.

she steps toward the large windows, feeling the warm sun prickle her skin as it sparkles through the leaves of the trees. the muffled sound of laughing families combined with the sight of her people paints a smile on her face, and she closes her eyes and loses herself in this divine moment until she feels something tug on the bottom of her vest.

“yes?” she asks, turning around and smiling down at the kid. her bottom lip quivers and her eyes fill with tears, she makes a mental note that she can’t be any older than six years of age.

“i—” she starts, attempting to blink back tears and inevitably failing. “mmmph!!”

sevika crouches down and wipes the girl’s tears away with her thumbs, ruffling the kid’s fluffy blue hair. “don’t worry, kiddo.” she assures her, “what’s wrong? oh, lemme guess— lost your parents?” the kid nods and sobs some more, attempting to hide her face in her hands.

she scoops her up in her arms, letting her sob into her shoulder. “ughffff!!!!” she pouts, squirming in sevika’s hold. she takes a guess that the kid is either really shy or just mute.

“it’s okay,” she coos. “would you like a lollipop?” the kid sniffles at this, but lifts her head up and nods at her. sevika digs into the small bag on her waist, pulling out a bright blue sucker for the little one that matches her hair. she takes it in her small hands and unwraps it, eyes sparkling at the sight of the blue raspberry favored sugar. sevika just hopes her parents don’t kill her.

with the kid in her arms— who is now joyfully sucking on the lollipop instead of soaking her in tears and snot— she makes her way downstairs. sevika’s no stranger to lost children, and she’s fond of their company. it’s refreshing to hear them describe colors and patterns in the paintings instead of overanalyzing it and telling stupid facts about the artist. and she loves that she can finally give back to the world, bringing the kiddos comfort like she never received from her own parents.

“radio check.” her earpiece says, slightly catching her off guard.

“go ahead.” her teammates all say, mutually praying their boss isn’t about to go on another two hour long rant in their private channel.

“keep your eyes peeled for a little kid with a full head of bright blue hair,” her boss says into her earpiece. “apparently her names isha and she’s five. parents lost her on the second floor and they’re worried.”

sevika looks down at the kid, unnecessarily double checking that her head is painted with blue hair dye. “i’ve got her.” she says. “we’re making our way to the lobby. 10-20?”

“lobby, meet you there soon. over and out.”

“isha!!” her mother shrieks as soon as sevika lands on the bottom step. “oh my sweet ishabear! i thought we’d lost you forever.”

isha’s dad shoots sevika a look that seems to say ‘sorry about her’, but she smiles and hands the kid over. “what’s your name?” her mom asks frantically. just as she’s about to respond, her boss speaks up and whacks her on the back with a proud slap.

“this is sevika. best security in the whole building, ain’t she?” he says, reaching out to pinch her cheek. sevika tries her absolute best to hold back, but she can’t stop a harsh glare from forming on her face as her boss pokes and prods at her like she’s a doll. she clears her throat and shoves him off, but resumes a smile for the parents staring at her.

“that she is!” the mother cheers. “god bless you, sevika, seriously. i’ll never be able to repay you.”

she smiles proudly, not necessarily because she believes in a god, but she’s just glad to get the kid back and hopefully end the conversation soon. “thank you ma’am. it’s no problem, really. it’s my job.”

“it is your job!” her boss exclaims. “and she’s gonna get right back to it.”

before turning away, she gives isha a smile and an explosive fist bump, smiling at the adorable little cub and then parting. her boss is probably the only downside of her job. words can’t explain how much she hates that guy— even hate isn’t a strong enough word. but she ignores it, pushing her hatred to the back of her mind and attempting to continue with her good day.

until an ear piercing scream is let out at the front of the building, and she’s knocked out before she can turn around to investigate.

——

“shit, how many are still in the building?”

“i dunno, man! there are people fuckin’ everywhere.”

“sevika? can you hear me? … sevika, you need to get out of there now.”

groggily, she peels her heavy eyes open and looks around. the scent of pennies fills her nose, a metallic smell so strong it nearly knocks her out again. before she feels like she can hit the floor, her body jerks forward and she sucks in a gasp before she realizes she’s already laying on the marbled ground.

“sevika…?”

“leave it alone, for gods sake, we need to get people out of here!”

her left arm was laying oddly and uncomfortably behind her, and her whole body was absolutely aching. she leans forward and chokes out some blood before looking at the scene before her. windows shattered and glass glistening on the floor, reflecting the light that shines off of the mini fires lit all around. there are people everywhere— or at least the remains of them. shoes and purses and walkers left behind, the suffocating scent of blood and charred flesh, and the sound of sirens blaring all around her.

she tries to breathe, but it seems impossible. her lungs won’t fill with air no matter how many times she gasps, and that number is burgeoning with the way she’s hyperventilating. hot, salty tears prickle her eyes involuntarily, but she blinks them away, too shocked to feel any emotions yet. she groans into the floor as a sharp pain shoots through her body, and the thrashing caused by that pain only makes her feel worse.

deep red and sticky, her blood pools around her. it leaks out of her left arm, which takes her a while to recognize as hers because of the way her elbow is inverted. she recognizes cries of children and shrieks of pain, which is a harsh contrast of the peaceful atmosphere earlier. how much earlier? how long has she been knocked out? and why is she on the floor?

after an eternity, two men in heavy jackets lift her onto a stretcher. she’s facing up this time, and now she can get a good look at the walls around her. they’re crumbling and splattered with blood, world famous paintings that were once hanging from them are now completely destroyed. either torn up or burnt to a crisp.

as they approach the bottom of the stairs, she makes the tough decision to peek over the stretcher, eyes frantically searching around the spot she was only just standing in. and there she is. that little girl with her bright blue hair, now drenched in red. her lips are still blue from the lollipop, but she’s grown pale and cold. and gone. and sevika couldn’t protect her.

before she closes her eyes, she takes in the scene one more time. piles of hair tangled together and skin melted into the floor. she’s seen some pretty outrageous things as a security guard, but never this. tears pour out of her eyes, the pain in her body making her wish she would’ve been taken out too. by what, she doesn’t know. she isn’t aware of where she is or what’s going on, all she knows is the pain in the left side of her body, and it’s all she’ll feel for the rest of her life.

iii. LIFT UP THE RECEIVER, I’LL MAKE YOU A BELIEVER

“sevika…?”

she blinks awake with a gasp, eyes wide as she takes in her surroundings. children’s toys litter the floor, flyers and posters on the wall, bright white lights beaming down on her— and her physical therapist standing about 2 feet away from her. sevika grumbles in embarrassment, trying to shake off her sleepiness as quickly as possible.

her therapist offers a sympathetic smile before waving her back. sevika curses those waiting room chairs for being so comfortable, or maybe it’s just because she doesn’t get much shut eye at home. her back is so weak and achy that she feels as if she’ll snap under the weight of gravity, but she tries to play it cool in front of her poor doctor. she’s already embarrassed herself enough today, she won’t let herself collapse in pain on the floor of the office.

“nice to see you again, sevika.” her PT smiles, “how’ve you been?”

how has she been? what a long list she could go down. first of all, she’s in so much physical pain she can barely sit upright without passing out. next, she hasn’t been sleeping well due to her night terrors, and she’s waken up soaked in sweat and shivering more often than not. finally, if this list has to end anywhere, she feels jealous. of the happy families she sees every day, of the kids with friends, of the adults with well paying jobs.

“i’ve been… surviving.” she says, purposefully ignoring the plethora of problems she has. this is physical therapy, she reminds herself. not the damn loony bin. get ahold of yourself.

“well, surviving is a great start.” her therapist says with a faux smile. “how has the pain in your shoulders felt since i last saw you? better? worse?” and with that, her voice trails off into the distance with sevika zoning out.

her poor arm gets bent in every single direction you can think of, even ones it’s not supposed to. she bites back her screams of agony and replaces them with little pained growls and whimpers. every time her arm gets bent slightly behind her, a shock of pure pain shoots through her spine and leaves her a shivering mess. the pain within her feels electric, like she’s about to burst into flames or something. it’s the worst thing she’s ever felt.

the tears in her eyes threaten to spill more than ever, but by some miracle she manages to hold them back. until she gets back to her apartment, at least.

as soon as she steps through the front door, she makes a beeline for her bedroom. burying her face in her pillow, she lets it all out. her pained scream is barely muffled by the pillow, but she continues to scream until her throat feels like sandpaper and she realizes that she can’t breathe.

gasping for air, she flops over. her vision is spotted and blurry from a mix of tears, pain, and exhaustion. she stares at her ceiling and cries while she chokes on her own staggered breaths, and she barely registers that someone’s knocking on her door until she hears her name called through it.

“sevika? are you alright, hon?” is followed by another few pounds on her door. she doesn’t want her anyone to call the cops, so she slowly and reluctantly rises from bed, grabbing onto her door frame to steady herself.

it’s her neighbor. curse these walls for being too thin.

sevika groans and rolls her eyes before opening the door, trying her best to plant an indifferent look on her face although it looks more like a pout. the old woman smiles up at her, glad to see that she’s alive after that screaming, but sevika can’t return the smile.

“what’s wrong? did something happen?” her neighbor asks.

“nothing’s wrong.” sevika grumbles, lying through her teeth.

“i know that’s not true honeybun, your eyes are bright red and your cheeks are wet with tears.” her neighbor coos. sevika thinks it’s annoying. she doesn’t want anyone’s sympathy.

“i’m alright, thank you.” she says sternly, although her neighbor keeps pushing.

“may i come in?”

sevika doesn’t answer, instead watching as the old lady walks past her and plants herself on sevika’s couch. “come chat with me.” she invites with a warm, grandmotherly smile.

“i’m not in the mood for chatting.” sevika glares.

“oh, dear,” her neighbor chuckles to herself. “i’m afraid i’m too mature to have you groan at me like a teenager. come sit.”

sevika comes up with another response, but it’s not a very friendly one. the angel on her shoulder tells her not to say it, that the poor woman is just trying to help, that sevika’s already been so much of a bother that she should just shut her mouth. but the devil on her shoulder is fed up right now, and sevika always favors the devil.

“i’m afraid you’re not an ounce as mature as i am. you haven’t been through what i have, and you have no place to tell me what to do in my own fucking apartment.” but sevika does listen to the lady, because she takes a seat right next to her on the couch.

her neighbor ignores her emotional outburst and instead asks “are you hungry?”

“no.” sevika scowls.

“tired?”

“exhausted.”

“sad? lonely? you’d do good with a pet around here. or a few plants. i can grow you a—”

“no thanks. i don’t need a… plant. or an animal.” sevika spits.

“hmm. you live a sad life, don’t you. i wonder what you were like before you came here.” her neighbor sighed.

“i don’t owe you an explanation. that’s private.”

“sevika, you can talk to me if you need to. i’m only one door down the hall, retired, it’s just me and my cats. i’ll always be available if you need something.”

“i don’t need anything.” sevika rolls her eyes. “much less your pity.”

“okay, fine then. if you won’t let me help you, i’ll make someone else help you.”

she reaches into her pocket and digs through her wallet, pulling out a thin paper card and handing it over to sevika. “come with me tomorrow. it’d do you wonders.”

“to… church? no thanks, i’ll pa—”

“okay, great. i’ll see you tomorrow morning then.” her neighbor says, rising and making her way to the door.

“i didn’t say i’d come.”

“i’ll pick you up at eight. better set an alarm.”

“i didn’t agree to co—” and sevika gets cut off by the slam of her own door before she can finish her sentence. whatever, when tomorrow rolls around she’ll just ignore her neighbor, pretending to be asleep or something.

she leans back on her couch, staring at the ceiling and wishing she had a pillow to grip onto, to scream into. another thing to add to the list. she stares at the ceiling instead, balling her hands up into fists as rage turns into sadness and sadness turns back into exhaustion.

it takes everything in her not to crawl to bed, but she stands and walks herself eventually. her shoulders sag and her torso slumps forward as she takes one step at a time, her posture making her about 4 inches shorter than she really is. her bed cradles her weight though, and she sighs into her cold, wet pillow once the tension in her body is released. it’s the best feeling ever. and before she knows it, her eyes are shutting, mind going back to that deep, dark memory.

——

7:30am rolls around, and sevika curses herself for waking up this early. now she’ll have to pretend to be asleep in front of her neighbor, and she’s not a good actress. she rolls out of bed, dragging herself to the bathroom to get her day started. she tries to avoid the mirror, but it’s impossible.

she stares at herself for a while, the uncomfortable feeling of someone else looking back at her creeps up on her. she doesn’t look like herself, she doesn’t look like sevika. she looks sick, tired, hurt, starving. the thought of food makes her stomach twist, she hasn’t eaten anything real in over a full day. maybe she should go easy on her neighbor and ask for a home-cooked meal. maybe.

her hair is fluffy and frayed at the ends, and her roots feel eternally greasy. her depression is so bad, she either showers daily in an attempt to scrub the hallucinated blood off, or she won’t shower for weeks. it’s like she can never win the battle.

a knock at the door disrupts her thoughts. “sevika?”

a groan involuntarily escapes her as she silently opens the bathroom door and creeps out into the living room. “sevika, wake up, it’s almost eight.”

she freezes, praying that her movements on top of her creaky floorboards go unobserved.

“sevika, dear, i can hear you on the other side of the door. you’re not fooling anyone.”

fuck. she’s not getting out of this, is she.

with another groan, she opens the door and sighs. the old lady smiles up at her, dressed in some sort of church attire. “grab a coat,” she says. “it’s chilly out.”

what else does sevika have to do, other than follow the orders? she’s trapped now. following this sweet old woman to church on a sunday. something she never thought she’d do. but she yanks a jacket over her shoulders and shoves her shoes on, not bothering to lock the door behind her. she claims she has nothing to lose in there, but that’s just because she lost her own apartment key a while ago.

she almost smiles when her neighbor shoves her into her car. almost. but she’s not exactly capable of that anymore. it’s so luxurious. she has a heater and a radio and a seat. it’s almost like she’s in a spaceship, marveling at all of these features that would make her life so much easier.

her excitement reaches it’s end as they pull into the parking lot of the building, and that pit in her stomach returns as she climbs out of the small car. if her legs worked a fraction of how well they used to, she’d run so far away from this place.

everything about it is repelling her. the building is huge, bright, colorful, everything she’s seen in her recurring nightmares. it smells like dust and coffee, children’s art line the walls, along with some more formal paintings and portraits. the ceiling seems to be made of glass— the kind that shatters easily and can slice your hands up.

the windows are colored with stained glass that portray different scenes. people made of bright colors dance and pose and feast all around them, their dazzling figures being illuminated by the white sunlight shining through the windows. it’s the kind of beauty she was attracted to years ago, the kind that nearly got her killed.

“sevika, come sit with me.” her neighbor says, derailing her train of thought. she practically has to drag sevika over to the pews as she stares at the buildings interior, feelings of fear and comfort flooding through her veins and stunning her.

she’s too busy taking in her surroundings to realize that the service has started, and she’s quickly reminded of how much she hates places like this. a large, beautiful room full of people. a community. something bad could happen at any moment, and she’d be in no shape to help any of them.

small droplets of blood fill her mouth one at a time as she anxiously chews on her bottom lip. she knows it’s a bad habit, but it’s oddly comforting. the metallic taste is just a reminder that she’s still alive, that the blood is still inside of her body instead of splattered across the floor. gross, ugh, don’t think of that.

in an attempt to tune out the preacher’s sermon, she decides to study the people around her. it’s a harsh reminder of past events, she swears she can almost recognize the faces of the dead bodies in them. all ages, young and old. parents cradling their newborn babies, seniors admiring their lover’s white hair, kids swinging their feet out in front of them in an attempt to stay occupied.

she tries to push these morbid thoughts away from her brain, but it’s not easy. it’s her minds default, it’s why she hasn’t stepped foot in any sort of large building in years. by some miracle, she’s survived a bombing once, how on earth could she do it again?

but to her luck, the ceremony is over before she knows it, and she’s about to escape before her neighbor yanks her back by the collar of her jacket. she pouts, rolls her eyes, and turns around to face her.

“meet my neighbor, sevika. this is her first time joining us.”

“nice to meet you, sevika.” and the man sticks his arm out to sevika, awaiting a returned hand shake. she doesn’t return it though, and she doesn’t even look at him. instead she just stares at the floor and says “yeah… thanks…”

her neighbor nudges her shoulder for being rude, but she doesn’t owe anyone anything. she doesn’t know if the man who tried to shake her hand is same guy who’s been blabbering on this whole time, but if it is, she doesn’t want anything to do with him.

“sevika, what the hell was that? i didn’t bring you here to be rude, i brought you here to learn something.”

sevika scoffs with a fake laugh, “i don’t need you to parent me.”

“then stop acting like a kid, let’s go meet more people.”

how was she gonna get out of this? oh well, in only a few hours she’ll be home again, resting and recharging in bed under the covers. she follows behind her neighbor like a lost puppy, not even looking in front of her, just staring down and making sure that she’s following the correct pair of shoes.

you greet sevika’s neighbor warmly, she’s a familiar face you’re always glad to see. sevika’s figure almost startles you when you peek up, almost. but you get yourself under control, asking the sweet older woman “who’s this?”

“this is sevika, my neighbor. it’s her first time joining us today.”

“oh! nice to meet you, sevika.” you smile, keeping your hands to yourself. sevika doesn’t know what to think of you, you’re so… different from everyone else here. you’re not dressed like everyone else, you look more like sevika than you do the others. but she wouldn’t expect someone like you to work at a church, would she? god, how the world has changed.

“nice to meet you.” she says, not bothering to attempt a weak smile, but giving a cordial nod in your direction anyways.

“we hope to see you around here soon. if you need anything, you know where to find me. although, you look like you’re in good hands.” you offer, giving sevika’s neighbor a friendly pat on the shoulder. sevika watches you walk off, wishing she could dissect you a little more. but she doesn’t hesitate to exit the building when her neighbor declares that it’s time to leave.

“are you hungry?” her neighbor asks once they’re in the car.

sevika’s mouth speaks before she can stop herself, “yes. starving.”

“good, you’ll come over for brunch. that wasn’t a question, by the way.” she smiles.

sevika rolls her eyes and almost smiles back. almost. but the ache in her lower back is making it hard to be happy in this moment.

her neighbor’s apartment is quite grandmotherly, to put it nicely. she has two cats— a black ball of fluff named “fluffy” and a skinny, all white cat named “snowy”, both of which were named by her grandchildren. there are plants and paintings and handmade quilts littering her place, every one of them having a story behind it. it’s cute, sure, but a little bit too maximalist for sevika’s enjoyment. at least she has furniture. good quality furniture.

a steaming teacup is placed in front of her seat at the counter, and both of the cats jump up to check it out. in all honesty, sevika thinks it’s kinda gross to live with animals. she doesn’t know where the hell those cats paws have been, and if it were up to her they wouldn’t be on the kitchen counter.

the cats waddle over to sevika, getting too close to comfort in an attempt to investigate the strange woman sitting at their counter. once she’s deemed safe, they raise their backs and point their tails up as if to ask for pets, but sevika scowls and awkwardly scoots away from the strange animals.

“not a cat person?” her neighbor laughs.

“no… not an animal person in general, really.”

“they’re sweet. give ‘em a pet.”

“no thanks…”

“fine. but you better eat up before they eat it for you.” her neighbor says, shoving a tall stack of pancakes in front of sevika. it’s a heavenly sight, and she almost feels bad for eating it instead of staring at the masterpiece for a while longer.

but that hungry pit in her stomach only grows and shoves itself against her stomach, so she has no choice to dig in. not that she’s complaining, and they taste absolutely divine. she grows uncomfortable again, last time she felt divine was the worst day of her life. it’s almost like a curse— one that never lets her feel true enjoyment.

fluffy and snowy meow loudly at her neighbor for food too, so she grabs a small dish and starts plopping some wet food onto it. again, sevika can’t fathom why someone would do that. on the counter? where she’s eating? but it’s not her apartment, so she keeps her mouth full of pancakes to stop the complaints.

she can’t wait to get home. checking the time, she realizes that it’s now afternoon. this has been the most eventful day she’s lived through in a while, and that triggers her anxiety to tone everything down. she needs a drink and a nap, so she thanks her neighbor and heads one door up the hall to her own apartment.

her door is unlocked, just how she left it, and she realizes that the only valuable thing in her apartment might be her liquor cabinet. maybe she should get a lock after all. add that to the list.

she guzzles down some whiskey directly from the bottle before stopping to take a breath. with how much she’s been drinking lately, she barely gets drunk anymore. it’s not fair, she might just have to find something stronger. jesus christ, i’m gonna drink myself to death. before she has a chance to bury herself back in bed, her phone rings. how strange, she hasn’t gotten a call in years. but what choice does she have, other than to lift up the receiver?

“yes?” she groans.

“hello,” you greet, a bit disturbed that someone would answer the phone with just ‘yes?’ “is this sevika?”

“who are you?”

“i’m from the church, we met earlier.”

“oh… okay… so…?”

“so, i wanted to tell you that i meant it when i said i hope you join us again. it was nice to see you, we rarely get any newcomers in this small town but… i can tell that you’re different.”

“okay…” sevika says. there is no way she’s stepping foot in that building again. jesus christ himself could not drag her in there.

“so… you’ll come?”

“i still need to be convinced.”

“easy. but i’ll need you to show up for that.”

“maybe.” she says, and you feel like you can hear a hint of promise in her voice.

“okay, well, have a good rest of your day. i’ll see you soon. maybe.” you say, about to hang up.

“how did you get my number?” she questions.

“helen gave it to me.”

“…who?”

“your neighbor? helen?”

“oh… right.” how could she not know her own neighbor’s name?

“sevika, don’t worry.” you assure her. “i’ll help you believe.” and the line goes quiet.

iv. I WILL DELIVER, YOU KNOW I’M A FORGIVER

that day was the first time you saw sevika, and you wish you could live in that moment forever. she was so soft and so sharp at the same time, and it was surprisingly harmonious. her physical features were striking, she looked almost… scary. but that scariness was easily cancelled out by her gentleness.

her cheeks were thin and sunken, but her chin effortlessly faded into the smooth skin of her neck. her nose stuck straight out of her head, but there was a slight curve to it that made you wanna run a gentle fingertip over it. her eyes were bright and silver, but they were so big and so round. she was tall, sticking up higher than anyone else in the room, but her hips and thighs were so plush and thick, she took up just the right amount of space.

she was just plain gorgeous. usually you’d scold yourself for thinking about another woman this way, but you’d been slowly coming to terms with your sexuality. as long as you don’t act on it.

from the moment you laid eyes on her, you knew you had to guide her. it was like some sort of fate or destiny. here’s this immaculate woman showing up in front of you in desperate need of help, your help specifically. it was a perfect mission, you’d do anything in her power to earn her trust and to help her feel that faith.

by some miracle, she answered the phone when you rang. judging by her previous attitude, you almost expected her to storm back down to the church and smack you across the face. your conversation was unproductive, sure, but it was a good start. well, if she decides to show up, that is. you don’t doubt her, if anything you can just ask her neighbor to force her to tag along again.

the mental image of her floats around in your head all day. what are you gonna do when she does show up? give her some sort of speech? she’ll probably just tune you out like she does to the rest of the world. you wonder why she acts the way she does, there’s no way anybody with a normal life could act this guarded. you just hope she opens up eventually, you’d kill to get to know her.

sevika’s not amused. she doesn’t want anyone’s help, or to pretend to have faith in something that’s all just make believe. really, the only thing she wants is some peace and quiet, and for the pain in her shoulders to lessen. before returning to her den, she sluggishly trudges to the kitchen cupboards, yanking them open in search of some painkillers. to her luck, there are two small pills left, which she quickly downs. she chooses water over whiskey this time, shockingly, because she’s a little bit frightened by drinking herself to death. which is strange, and she wonders why she values her life so much.

no matter what you do, you can’t get this woman off of your mind. something about her makes you feel different than how other people make you feel, but you can’t tell what it is or why. you need a plan. you need to talk to her again. or at least some confidence would be handy. but instead of dwelling on it, you decide to go for a walk.

the walk doesn’t really work though, it actually does the opposite of clearing your mind. you have nothing to focus on, no work to do, so you just think. your mind runs wild the whole time. you’re so intrigued, so excited yet nervous, you feel like it’s almost a craving. almost, because you’re not really sure what a craving is. not until you meet her, at least.

after swallowing her pain meds, sevika crawls back into bed, the heavy feeling of anxiety that settled over her chest slowly but surely fades, and she’s eased into a light afternoon nap. the plain white walls of her room offer some familiar comfort, but the more she looks at them, the more she’s reminded of the hospital. fuck, maybe she should try to decorate the place. and she really does need to go shopping later.

——

she wakes up nearly three hours later feeling more exhausted than before she slept. at least she feels a bit more calm, but the looming feeling of her responsibilities made her groan. another reason why she doesn’t want pets: it’s another mouth to feed, to walk, clean up after, bathe, spend time with. she can barely do those things for herself, how on earth could she do it for something else?

rather than pouting about her responsibilities, she makes the tough decision to get out of bed and get started with her day. get started meaning that it’s almost 6:00pm and she’s only just now attempting to complete her to-do list. and so what? she lives on her own terms. she doesn’t bother brushing her messy hair after her nap, even less to keep it out of her face with a little half ponytail. it never works anyways, the wind whips it all around you until it sticks to the sides of your face with humidity.

so, that’s it then, and she shoves her shoes and her coat on and leaves. the door stays unlocked, of course, and she makes her way down the stairwell and out of the building. there’s a small grocery store on her block which is conveniently located next to a liquor store. if she has the funds after buying her necessities, she’ll stop in there for a treat. actually, she’ll probably stop in there anyways, but she likes to think that she still has some self control left when it comes to drinking.

does she remember what she needed to buy? no. and did she bother to write down her mental shopping list as it came to her? nope! but it’ll come to her. hopefully. she spends the whole walk there trying to focus on what she needs to spend her money on and what she wants to spend her money on. she needs more painkillers, more snacks, some sort of decoration for her place, and… was there something else?

she crosses into the store and she’s immediately greeted by the sound of loud pop music buzzing through the speakers. great, so she’s overstimulated already. she’ll make it quick, she decides, it’s not like she wanted to be here in the first place.

sauntering down the aisles, she picks up everything she needs. at least, everything she remembers that she needs. she grabs a large bottle of extra strength ibuprofen, more bread and butter, microwave meals, milk and eggs, and what else? before she can think of another thing to add, she decides to just leave. if she thinks of anything else, she can always just come back later.

her shoulders sag under the weight of her basket, full of stuff that’ll probably just rot in her fridge. as she approaches the register, she sighs as the man behind it attempts to strike up a conversation with her. she’s not interested, she never has been, and she has no clue why he insists on chatting with her every time she’s there.

she doesn’t respond to the man the entire time she’s there, just staring daggers past him. she doesn’t even muster out a “good evening” or “goodnight”. i mean jesus, even a “fuck you” might’ve been polite. it’s not like she cares.

but she does stop by the liquor store on the way home, as we knew she would. she decides to treat herself, picking up not only one, but two bottles off of the shelf. whiskey and vodka, not cheap but it does the job. the money will come back around anyways. the man behind the counter, this time stoned out of his mind, asks her what she’s gonna do with the alcohol.

“what am i gonna do with it?” she repeats, obviously annoyed and confused. “what the fuck do you think?”

“mannnn, i bet you could make a hundred bottles of homemade mouthwash with this stuff. fucking awesome.”

sevika rolls her eyes and collects the large glass bottles, shoving them into her bag as gently as she can. she has no idea why everyone’s so interested in talking with her tonight, it’s like she’s wearing a glowing neon sign above her head that says “TALK TO ME!”

does she look approachable? happy? friendly? welcoming? no, obviously not. she must not be part of this inside joke the world is playing on her tonight.

so you’re surprised to see sevika when you’re out for your second walk of the night. pacing around in your own house wasn’t working, and all you wanted was some fresh air. well, maybe not fresh, but the temperature definitely did shock you. you almost walked right past her until you recognized her statuesque figure. she was across the parking lot, rolling her eyes and shoving the door to the liquor shop open as she stepped back outside.

huh. sevika at a liquor shop. not necessarily unusual for a person, but forbidden for you. you wonder if this is a ritual for her, if she’s gonna go home and get drunk or something, or maybe if she’s gonna split the bottle with some friends. does she even have friends?

you turn around and head in the same direction she does, hoping your paths cross before her quick, long strides can leave you behind. and you eventually catch up to her, pretending you had no idea you’d run into her, you greet her with a “oh, sevika! hey, i didn’t expect to see you here.” except, you did expect to see her here. you already spied her storming out of the liquor store. ugh, you’re such a bad liar.

“oh… hi.” she mumbles, a little disturbed by your sudden appearance, and already burnt out from the two people who’ve made small talk with her in the past hour. while you stand in front of her, she raises her eyebrow slightly as if to signal that she’s waiting for you to say something before she walks away.

“i’ll see you next week, yeah?” you remind her, not really sure of what to say. partly because the meeting is so sudden, and partly because this woman is breathtaking.

“yeah, maybe.” she agrees halfheartedly.

“i don’t want your ‘maybe’s sevika. i want you to say yes to me.” you challenge, huffing at her indecisiveness. “if you want me to help you, i need a yes.”

“help me with what?” she asks, pretending to be shocked and offended at your words. you stutter, staring up at her with a sorry look in your eyes.

“oh, i’m sorry, i didn’t mean—”

“i’m just fucking with you.” she says, chuckling to herself and offering a small smile. and as if her face couldn’t get any more perfect, you notice a small gap between two of her top teeth. she’s so beautiful you feel like you’re gonna melt, even in this chilly autumn weather.

before you think about what you’re saying next, you blurt out a “tomorrow? can i see you tomorrow?”

she raises her eyebrows at your bluntness, the suggestion seems to come out of nowhere. but what else does she have to do? and she already feels bad for fucking with you all of the time, shouldn’t she just give in and attend whatever stupid meeting you have planned for her?

“i— i guess, yeah.”

“you guess?” you tease. “or you will show up?”

“i will. i’ll see you tomorrow.” she admits with a huff.

“good, i’ll see you tomorrow too then.” you say, and you offer her a small wave before walking past her and continuing with your walk. after seeing her, your mind automatically feels so much clearer considering the fact that she was the one occupying all of your thoughts.

sevika stands frozen in place as you walk away, holding her bag in her hand as she reflects on what she just agreed to. why the fuck would she say yes to that? she doesn’t believe in any of your religious bullshit, and she doesn’t care to try. but it’s too late, she’ll just have to let you down easy when tomorrow comes.

but when tomorrow does come, she decides to go a little bit easier on herself. it’s not like you’re trying to annoy her with all of your beliefs and jargon and whatnot, and she can tell that this actually does mean a lot to you. plus, she’s in a good mood after remembering that she bought two new bottles of alcohol. she even ate a little bit last night and managed to keep it all down, which is a rare occurrence for her. so yeah, it might be a good day.

the sun peeks out just a tiny bit from behind the clouds as she walks herself back to the church, which offers a nice, although minuscule, bit of warmth. you’re already there by the time she arrives, and you greet her with a warm smile and invite her down the long hallway to your ‘office’. it’s not technically a real office since you don’t do too much work other than filing papers and planning events, you just begged them to give you a room that you could sit alone in sometimes.

you don’t have any sort of plan on how you’re gonna convert sevika, or how to at least help her fix up her life a little bit, but you do wanna get to know her. so you start with that. you ask her where she’s from and if she’s lived here her whole life, and you’re surprised to learn that she used to work in new york. all the way across the country.

she hesitates to tell you why she left though, saying she’d rather save it for a later session when she gets more comfortable. which she regrets almost instantly, because she just solidified herself another few meetings like these. she tells you more, like how she was always close with her mother until she passed when sevika was only ten. and how she definitelty inherited some anger from her dad, even though she never liked him.

her childhood was interesting. to you at least. she was just stable enough to keep herself afloat, but unstable enough for her to be left with some sort of trauma. she moved out as soon as she reached eighteen and never looked back. she scoured for jobs that would be good for someone like her, someone broken but strong. resilient, you call it.

the two of you chat for nearly three hours, you asking questions after question and her answering nearly all of them. but the one question that you’re too scared to ask is this: what happened that turned her into… this? she said it had something to do with her job, something that just completely broke her and left her unable to snap back. but what was it? how bad could it have been? what job did she have? was it her fault? but you did agree to letting her tell you on her own terms, so you’ll just have to wait until she’s ready.

eventually your time is up, and you walk sevika back out of the double doors of the small building. she flashes you a small smile, one that you’re already obsessed with, and she turns to leave.

“wait.” you call after her, although she’s only about six feet away from you. “you don’t have a car?”

“no.”

“how did you get here?”

“i… walked…” she says, waiting for you to get to your point.

“all this way?”

“it’s only about a block and a half.”

“but— well…” now you feel bad. you didn’t know that you were forcing her to exercise her exhausted joints and muscles in this weather. sure, maybe she doesn’t mind, but if you were her you’d probably throw a tantrum. “do you want me to drive you?” you ask.

“sure, if you really want to.”

“of course i want to.” you say, and you practically drag her off of the sidewalk and shove her into the passenger side of your car. the drive is short, her building really is just about a block and a half away.

“i’ll see you next week.” you say.

“yeah, see you then.” she responds, and for once it doesn’t feel forced or awkward.

“and tell helen i say hi if you see her. assuming you know who she is?” you giggle.

“yes, i know my own neighbor.” she says, rolling her eyes and chuckling.

“just making sure…” you tease.

sevika just laughs and waves you goodbye through your front window, disappearing into the building and up the stairs. you don’t even register it— to busy with staring at her back— but eventually it hits you that she laughed. this mysterious, guarded woman laughed at something you said. and she spent the last three hours opening up to you about her life. and for the first time in quite a while, you feel like you’re finally good at your job.

——

sevika’s been following through on her promise, meeting you for exactly four weeks now. twenty eight days. you started out with just seeing her twice a week, then every other day, and now you see each other daily. she opened up to you about how much she hates the church setting, how it activates her fight or flight response and brings up old memories, so you switched to taking her to a small local cafe instead.

it’s great. you get to have real coffee, not the burnt stuff from the coffee pot in the church’s kitchen. you’ve also been forcing sevika to eat after learning that it’s been a struggle for her. nothing big, but you make sure she always has at least a muffin or a croissant in her stomach. you pick her up and driving her there too, which is good for her because she can finally relax instead of being worn out from walking everywhere.

she’s taken a liking to you, every morning she’s glad she wakes up because she knows she can see you again. it’s such a strange feeling, but she enjoys it. opening up to you wasn’t as difficult as she thought it would be either. you listen so attentively, and you’re always careful to ask appropriate questions and give her a break without her even having to ask for one.

it’s never been easy for her to talk about what happened in her past, and she wishes she had the ability to forget about it completely. but it’s easier with you. every time her eyes grow wide and teary as she pictures the bodies, you change the topic and point at a cute dog outside of the window. or when she gets choked up, stumbling over her words because the brutality of the situation is just too much for her, you let her take her time.

the most memorable moment for her was when she told you about that kid with the blue hair. everything else, sevika managed to stay under control about. sure, the mangled body parts and the melted flesh was bad, but that fucking kid. her lips were still blue. she’d been so alive only moments earlier, smiling as sevika gave her a fist bump and held her in her arms, and she was gone just like that.

when she told you, she couldn’t help but break down in heavy sobs. you could feel your heart shatter at this— the story and sevika’s reaction to it. you scrambled from your side of the booth to hers, scooting in next to her and wrapping her up in a hug as she cried. to your surprise, she hugged you back. she hooked her chin over your shoulder, grabbed you tightly in her strong arms, and just let herself go.

it’s the most tranquility she’s ever felt, and it put all of her past therapists to shame. immediately after that day, the two of you were bonded. you’d do anything for her. be a shoulder to cry on, drive her to and from her various doctors appointments, and make sure she’s eating.

she’s started to trust you, and she agreed to going back to the church with you a few times a week. instead of taking your usual spot with the rest of the staff and speakers, you sit with her every time. sevika on your left, her neighbor on your right.

today you’re feeling particularly bold for some reason, you suspect it might be because of your friendship with sevika, but this feels different. well, you know how it feels, but you’re scared to admit it. although you’ll probably be fine, you’re hesitant to say it to yourself out of the fear that you’ll be thrown out of the church. yes, you like sevika, and sure, she is a beautiful woman. but you just can’t bring yourself to say it. to say that you have a real crush on her. to admit that you want her.

so instead of saying anything, you use your actions instead. glancing over both of your shoulders, you make sure that nobody important is looking in your direction before you snake your hand forward and wrap your hand around sevika’s. this action is the farthest you’ve ever gone with anyone, and your cheeks are practically on fire with how hard you’re blushing. you wouldn’t be surprised if the whole building could hear your heartbeat right now.

sevika adjusts her fingers so that she’s gripping your hand firmly, and you feel so… dirty, almost. you know that this is nothing, but you’re scared and ashamed of what other people might think. but although it initially feels wrong, you settle down when you realize that nobody’s looking— even more that nobody cares— and it feels so right. her hands are surprisingly warm and soft, they feel so welcoming and familiar against yours.

maybe, just maybe, you’ll hold her hand more often. but for now, this is just a one-time occurrence.

she notices the panicked look in your eyes as you stare straight ahead. she tries to nudge you gently, but you’re in such a deep stupor that you don’t notice it.

“hey.” she whispers, elbowing you a bit harder than last time. “you okay?”

you realize now that she’s trying to talk to you, so you just squeeze her hand and give her a small nod, blinking your eyes a few times and trying to snap back into reality. once the ceremony is over, you stand and walk sevika and her neighbor to the door quickly.

“are you sure you’re alright?” she asks again.

“yeah, it’s nothing.”

“you know that… this works both ways, right?” she says, gesturing between both of your bodies. “if you need someone to talk to, i can listen.”

“i know, thank you.” you start. “but it’s not like that. it’s nothing… bad. i think? but i’m fine. or— i will be fine.” you say, stumbling over your words incredibly hard.

“you don’t seem fine to me.” she retorts.

“i am, thank you though. get home safely.” you choke out, missing a crucial part to your signature goodbye’s.

“…see you tomorrow?” she asks.

“oh, yes! see you tomorrow, i knew i was forgetting something.”

sevika flicks you on the forehead, before turning to leave. “get some rest, then.”

“i will.” you laugh, although it’s forced.

as soon as her and her neighbor are out of sight, you turn around and make a beeline for your office at the end of the hall. your eyes are glued to the floor, purposefully ignoring anyone’s gaze in case they try to chat with you.

the door clicks locked behind you, and you slump down in our office chair. with your head in your hands, you start to cry. the anxiety in your chest is just too much to handle, and you’re so upset with yourself. you’re upset because it felt so good to be that close to her, and you let yourself indulge in something you know you’ll never get to have. you allowed yourself to catch feelings, but you know you can’t go any further. you’ll have to stick with just thinking she’s pretty and sweet and yours, and watch her fall in love with another woman.

worst of all, she’ll probably fall in love with a woman who’s the total opposite of you. someone who’s experienced and not awkward and cool. and not you. and this really hurts to realize.

what are you supposed to do now? now that you’ve admitted how you feel to yourself, what else is there to do? you can’t ask her out on a date, that would be against everything your community believes in. but are you really supposed to just sit here and play along? it’s not fair. your adrenaline is so high right now that all you really want to do is run.

and that's just what you do. you don't even bother to use the exit door down the hallway, you just peel your window open and hop out of it. tears prickle your eyes and the frosty air nips at your skin, but it helps even out your overheating temperature. you’ve walked this route a millions times already, it’s nothing different but the gentle scenery offers a nice place to think.

you think about all of the sweet moments you’ve shared together, specifically about how much it means to you. you’ve never really had a friend like this before. sure, you’re convivial, but having someone like this was so different. she was yours. and you’d gladly be hers if she asked you to, but would she ask you to? would she ever ask someone like you to be hers?

but you also think about how much your religion means to you. you’ve been part of this for so long, working harder to have a strong sense of faith every single day. if you get with sevika, they could cut you off in an instant, and it would’ve all been for nothing. your reputation would be ruined, and if you’d ever wanna start over with another church, you’d have to leave this small town. leave your home.

it’s just not fair. why did god make you this way? for everyone else, falling in love with a man is no problem. they were made the right way, or at least know how to ignore their true feeling really well. was there some sort of secret lesson that you missed? that everyone is in on besides you?

once you get dizzy and out of breath, you find a stump to sit on and reflect. your shoes kick at the dirt underneath you, brain fuzzy as you try to decide on what to do. little bugs crawl around on the ground beneath you, each one of them having a family and a home. i wish i could have a family, you think. you can hear rain pattering on the leaves of the trees above you, but you stay dry. well, as dry as you possibly can be living this close to the ocean.

you don’t even realize how long you’ve been sitting here lost in your thoughts before the sky turns a lovely light shade of orange, and you realize you’d better leave now if you wanna get back before dark. the only thing on your mind as always is sevika.

sevika has been thinking about you all night too, wondering if you’re okay after the way you acted. she won’t push, she wants to give you time to open up to her the same way you did, but she just worries. and she misses the warmth of your hand in hers, although she could tell you were nervous. in her opinion, it was cute. she admires how gentle you are, how you always make sure others are alright before making sure you are alright. but whatever it is, she doesn’t doubt that you’ll be fine.

leaving your window open was a stupid idea, now your entire office is cold and there’s a puddle of rainwater leaking down the bottom of the window and onto the floor. but you’ve made up your mind. you need to call her. you know that she’s infinitely more experienced with these feelings than you are, so she’ll be able to help you, even if those feelings are about her.

she’s about to go to bed early when her phone rings again. she knows it’s you before she even picks up— you’re the only one with her number.

“yes?”

“…sevika.” you sob out, the small whimper of her name followed by sniffles and cries.

“holy shit, are you okay?” she asks frantically, scared that maybe you’re hurt or something.

“well… physically yes. but i just… miss you. i need to talk to you in person.”

“okay, yeah. i’m on my way.” she says, and she practically flies out of her building and down the street to get to you. it’s not late, but the sky is already pitch black due to how early the sun sets. you meet her at the door again when she arrives, and the sight of her instantly calms your nerves. she looks so worried, it makes your heart twist. you’re so in love and it’s all her fault.

she doesn’t hesitate to wrap you up in her arms as you sob into her shoulder, and this gesture only makes you sob harder. because you’re so in love and you think you know which side you’re choosing. and it breaks your heart.

“what’s going on?” she asks, and you realize you’re still standing in the doorway.

“come inside, i’ll explain.”

“okay…” she whispers. “did something happen?”

“i have a question.”

“of course. ask me anything.”

“do you ever…” you trail off, trying to find the right words. “feel like… like you can’t live without someone? and you’d give up anything to be with them?”

“yeah, i guess i’ve felt that way before.” she admits quizzically.

“what’s it called?” you ask, although you already know the answer.

“love?” she guesses.

“sevika, can i tell you something?”

“yeah, go ahead.” she says, worried that maybe you’re about to admit to killing someone.

“i think…” you start, but you get interrupted by tears dripping past your eyes and down your cheeks.

“spit it out,” she prompts. “you can trust me.”

“i think i’m in love with you.” you blurt out, biting the bullet.

“oh…” she says, and she almost steps away from you before she realizes that you’re crying again. so she wraps you in another hug and rubs your back. you grip onto her so hard you can barely breathe, and you cry in her arms for so long that you’re brought to your knees. sevika holds you even after you fall the the floor, keeling before you as your knees give out.

she’s in love with you too, but she didn’t wanna say anything in case it made you uncomfortable. plus, she’s not really into corruption or anything, so she decided to just respect your boundaries. but eventually her joints grew sore of sitting on the floor, so she rose, holding your face in her hands and wiping up all of your tears as they fall.

v. REACH OUT AND TOUCH FAITH

every little thing about her attracted you. sevika was a lost soul, mysterious above all. a woman who needed help and direction but was so strong, you swore she could hold the whole world on her shoulders, no matter how much she’d whine about the pain. she complains about people— how there are too many of them and how they’re all stupid— but she’d give her life in a heartbeat to save them.

you couldn’t crack her, no matter how hard you tried.

she looked down at you with her silver eyes sparkling in the candlelight, her hair falling over her face in a silky curtain. you gasped as her thick hands took their place on either side of your head, each one cupping your cheeks so tenderly although they have a rough exterior. you always knew she was capable of being gentle.

you looked up at her from your position on your knees, her torso looking impossibly longer than usual. something comes over you, something that warms up your stomach until you feel so dizzy you feel the need to reach for something to steady yourself. unaware of just how much trouble this would get you in, you end up grabbing for her upper thighs. they’re so thick that your hands are almost completely flat, but they’re sturdy. perfect for grabbing onto.

she chuckles at your flushed state, huffing out an amused “it’s alright, you can touch me if you want. you won’t burst into flames.”

those two sentences make your cheeks heat up involuntarily. you know what she’s implying, and it makes you feel strangely electric. if you don’t burst into flames by this act of sinning, you’ll burst into flames due to how flustered you are. she does something to you that feels so enchanting, like some sort of spell she’s casted. you’ve been frozen in place for so long that you hardly register the soft caress of her thumbs against the apples of your cheeks. if she were medusa, you’d get turned to stone in an instant.

“sevika, what are you— we should—”

“what are you thinking about right now?” she asks, tauntingly putting an end to your stuttering mess of a sentence.

“uh— medusa. and you. you remind me of her.” you choke out, reaching up and gripping onto her biceps before hauling yourself up.

“how so?”

“i always feel like you put me under some kind of spell. like when i’m with you i’m frozen in place. in a good way.” you respond, your breath tickling her face as you gaze up at her from a closer distance this time.

most of your dizziness has relented, and now you sense something softer in the way sevika gazes at you. like she’s pleading for something she doesn’t know how to ask for. she stammers back, almost hitting the wall, and you grow concerned. the roles have shifted. little do you know, you’re in power now. she feels… weak. and needy. something tingly settles in her stomach, she can’t decipher whether it’s anxiety or horniness.

“sevika?” you ask with concern, slowly walking over to where she’s pressed against the wall. her chest heaves as she breathes deeply, and she shivers when you reach out to grab her hand. “are you feeling alright?”

“i don’t think i can do this anymore.” she confesses, her big, silver eyes growing glossy with tears. “i’m— i can’t do this to you.”

“what are you talking about?” you attempt to soothe, worried that maybe she’s suddenly gotten possessed or something.

“you belong here, sevika. you’re not doing anything wrong. if anything, it’s me who should back off right now.”

“it’s not about that.” she sighs, unable to meet your gaze, her eyes instead settling for your lips. a sight she’s seen many times before in her most erotic fantasies.

“what are you feeling right now?” you ask, your therapist persona settling over you in case she’s about to reveal more of her past trauma.

“i… i can’t say it.” she whispers, now solely focused on the curve of your lips and how they’re still shining from the last time your tongue trailed over them.

“you can trust me.” you whisper back. “always.”

sevika studies your words in her mind, hoping that you’d still mean them if you could see the thoughts running wild in her mind right now. she inches closer to you and her nose almost brushes yours. the tension in the room makes her squirm, thighs pressing together in an attempt to soothe the ache between them. somehow, in some strange way, this feels better than sex. better than anything she’s ever smoked, any liquid she could get drunk on.

you are her intoxicant. her stronger substance. her higher power. her breath of fresh air in this humid town. you are what she’s been searching for.

before she makes another move, she pauses. you’re looking at her with such concern, such love, her heart feels like it’s gonna burst. she theorizes that you’re aware of exactly what she’s thinking, but she has no way to know. sevika wonders how you’d react if she leaned forward and kissed you right now.

you have a sneaking suspicion that she’s thinking of something… lustful right now. it shows in her eyes. wide with pupils big and blown out, and the silver in them is practically glittering. she looks pretty, you think, and soft. and although it’s against almost everything you believe in, you probably wouldn’t mind if she leaned in right now and just—

her lips come crashing against yours, a beautiful harmony of carnal aggression and tender care. gravity suddenly feels about twenty times stronger, and you near collapse in sevika’s strong arms. instead of that, you regain your balance after stumbling and back her against the wall. her back hits it with a thud, and she whimpers into your mouth. she whimpers.

it’s as if everything you’ve ever believed in suddenly floods out of your mind. you don’t care which god sees you kissing another woman with such animal desire. somehow it doesn’t matter to you anymore. all that matters is sevika. her safety, her trust, her pleasure.

for once, you allow yourself to feel this way. although it feels wrong, it’s so freeing. you’re an adult for god’s sake, and you’ve missed out on so much due to the strict rules of the church. you want this, you deserve this. after all, it is technically your job to guide sevika, to make her feel good. how is this any different?

as her lips part, you take the chance to slide your tongue over hers. just a gentle brush, but the warm heat of her mouth drives you crazy. her hands claw at your hips, pulling you closer until there’s no gap between the pair of you. this level of closeness isn’t something you’re used to, but fuck, it feels so right.

you can feel the way her thighs tighten when she squirms and clenches them together, feel her own tits rub against yours through your clothes. the intimacy of the moment almost feels awkward, especially because it’s completely silent other than the sounds of your lips smacking together. but before you can dwell on the embarrassment crashing over you, sevika grounds you by moaning your name into your mouth.

as if you weren’t already turned on, this flips a switch and activates something in you that’s a hundred times stronger. both of you pant when you pull back, staring into the silver pools of sevika’s irises. you need her. now. in every way possible.

“take your clothes off.” you demand. sevika nods momentarily, but she hesitates.

“are you sure? we don’t need to— if you’re not comfortable with it that’s fi—”

“now, sevika.” you huff at her attempt to be gentlemanly, but you know she’s craving this as much as you are.

without another word, she strips herself of her shirt, leaving her in just a black sports bra and jeans. you halt your own undressing to stare at her. and god. she’s fucking perfect. her abdomen carries the remnants of what you assume used to be a thick six pack of abs. and although you can’t exactly see them yet, her tits are wide and heavy looking, her ribs poking out slightly under them.

something that you didn’t expect to turn you on is her happy trail. she’s got a thick line of dark, coarse hair running from her belly button all the way down to—

her pants drop to the floor as you continue to stare at her, and your eyes trail lower and lower until they reach the ground. her thighs look impossibly thicker, and you’re surprised about how much she complains about her body. she looks so strong, like nothing could ever hurt her. and as for being insecure? impossible for someone who looks as good as she does. you’d do anything to make her aware of just how beautiful she is.

as she stands almost naked before you, she peeps out a timid “your turn.”

before you think twice, you tackle her to the floor, crushing her lips under yours and shoving your tongue back into her mouth. she whimpers when she hits the ground, albeit mostly out of pain instead of pleasure. you slightly pull away with a gasp, concerned about potentially hurting her— the opposite of your intentions.

“fuck, sorry.” you groan against her lips. “did i hurt you?”

“it’s alright.” she responds. “worth it to have a pretty thing like you on top of me.”

with that, you’re kissing her even deeper, grabbing onto the back of her head to get a better angle with your tongue. she shuffles slightly under you, bucking her hips up as she unbuttons your own pants. shit, you think to yourself, i’ve never done this before.

your bottoms are quickly discarded, sevika throws them somewhere behind you the second they’re off. you’re dying to get your hands on her tits, but you don’t know how to ask. it’s a good think she can always tell what you’re thinking, because she reaches up to hook her thumbs under her bra and yank it off. and god, you were right. her tits are wide and heavy, they’re so smooth and round with the most perfect brown nipples sitting proudly in the center of each one.

you lean forward to give each one a kiss, just a gentle brush, but it doesn’t really satisfy your craving for her. you pout, you’re so horny that it hurts. no matter what article of clothing she removes, it’s not enough. you just wanna crawl inside of her and live there.

“what’s wrong?” she asks.

“i need you.”

“have you ever had sex before?”

“no. i have no idea what i’m doing.”

“guess it’s my turn to guide you.” she laughs, and although the joke was stupid, you giggle too. you didn’t know it could be this fun.

she shuffles under you as she slides her boxers off, and you almost drool at the sight of her bush. it’s just so… beautiful. and intimate. she pats your hips as a signal to scoot off of her, and she spreads her legs before manhandling you to sit your cunt on top of hers. as soon as you connect your cunt with hers, you swear you black out.

it all feels so good. she keeps spreading her legs wider to help you get a better angle against her clit, and you can feel it throbbing against yours. you thought holding her hand was intimate, but this is so much more than you could’ve imagined.

“fuck, sevika.” you moan, tears crashing over you again and dripping onto her cheeks now. “you’re so beautiful.”

she groans at this, tears washing over her too. she hasn’t felt beautiful in so long, and here you are completely undoing her insecurities. all of the scars on her face, cheeks, neck, arms, and torso get kissed. you trail your fingers along some, your tongue along others. you want her to feel loved. you want her to feel the exact same way that she makes you feel.

“you’re beautiful too.” she admits sheepishly. “i can’t believe i haven’t fucked you sooner.”

this flusters you. it’s hard for you to believe that anyone can just be this confident saying things like that, especially because you’re not used to it. but it feels so good to be desired. to have the woman of your dreams using you to get off.

you’re both so sensitive that it doesn’t take long for either of you to cum. sevika’s catches her first after you tell her how beautiful her scars are, even though she used to believe they were the ugliest things known to mankind. she gasps as she cums, her thick cream leaking out of her cunt and down her ass.

you eventually follow after her when she readjusts, moving one of her hands down from your neck onto your hip. she grinds up into you, and your clit meets hers at such an angle that you cum with a scream. it’s dizzying. you gasp and moan and writhe as your orgasm crashes down over you. considering that it’s your first, you weren’t expecting it to be so enveloping. you were taught that sex was unholy, gross, sinful, and a plethora of other negative adjectives.

but it’s not.

you imagine that this is what heaven feels like, a shock of pleasure that runs through your body and leaves you panting and reeling. and it’s fun. as soon as you come down, sevika’s congratulating you on a good job and holding you close. you cry again, but this time not out of fear, out of certainty. you have it all figured out. you’ve just felt the best sensation of your life and here’s the love of your life smiling up from under you.

and so sevika holds you for another few minutes. yeah, you’re both naked in the middle of church, and yeah you’d be burned at the stake if anyone ever found out. but you wouldn’t mind that, as long as you have sevika with you.

“sevika?” you ask after a long while of silent kisses and tickling breaths.

“yeah?”

“i think we need to get out of here.”

“alright. where to?”

“i dunno. let’s leave the country.”

sevika laughs at this, and it’s a sound prettier than anything you’ve ever heard. something you’ll never get sick of. “fuck, i love you so much.”

but before convincing her to leave the country with you, you drive her to a small 24 hour diner down the street and have dinner together. it’s a real date, although all of those coffee shop meeting have gotta count for something too. you hold her hand across the table, this time not afraid, and share a milkshake just like they do in the movies.

so yeah, maybe things didn’t work out for you with this certain group of people, and maybe it does still take a while for you to get over your fear of societal rejection, but sevika is there for you every step of the way. as your girlfriend. officially.

OK HAIII if you made it all the way through my the treacherous jungle of my yap and you’re reading this, thank you so much!!!! i poured my entire heart and soul (and pussy) into this so i hope u enjoyed hehehe :P special thanks to pluto, rayray, eren, and lyss for allowing me to yap about this fic to them, i couldn’t have done it without you guys 🥹 my favorite people in the world right here, MWAH here’s a kiss from ennabear <3 and another thanks to the rest of my mutuals for putting up with the empty promises of “coming soon” at least it’s actually finished now!! i love all of you, let me know what you thought of this one!!! comments and reblogs are very highly appreciated 🤎🤎

[nothorses]

I keep thinking about that post thats like "well Israel and the US both exist now and there's no way to reverse that except by genociding everyone who lives there so we just have to accept it. they exist now and they always will and we just have to be okay with that"

no the fuck we don't!!! just because you don't know anything about landback & decolonization does not mean it's not possible. just because you cannot imagine a transfer of land ownership that doesnt involve genocide does not mean it's not possible.

we don't have to accept colonization and genocide just because you can't fathom any version of justice that isn't violently punitive.

from High Country News:

from 4rs Youth Movement: a brief, informative, exceedingly patient and compassionate read on LandBack aimed at settlers.

and here's a Reddit thread full of various perspectives from indigenous folks on what LandBack means to them.

LandBack Manifesto (also a good place to learn more about what this looks like in organizing & policy)

learn something from indigenous people today!

note: I say "we" partially because decolonization and LandBack ultimately benefits everyone, myself as a settler included. It doesn't need to benefit everyone in order for it to be the right thing to fight for, but it does.

[pupkinpumpkin]

Thinking of Rook always having this mask of humor and chillness at all waking moments, but there are these little moments, where the worry and the stress and the fear are shown in a small downturn of the lips, a quiver of the voice, a furrow of the brow, or a nervous laugh. And then their mask is right back on.

The companions joke about how hard it is to read Rook or they comment on how confident they always look. Rook is their leader and sometimes they seem utterly untouchable.

Then they get sent to the Regret Prison. Everyone is obviously terrified and worried for their safety, but they don't imagine Rook being scared. They imagine Rook blazing through the prison, too stubborn and fierce to be kept down. So the only option is to meet them in the middle. Rook has inspired and helped them all so much that they spend those missing weeks working to get them out, because Rook would've done the same for them.

Finally, after weeks of trial and error, they find a tear in the Fade, just big enough to pull Rook out of. When they pull them out, they expect to see Rook exhausted but relieved. They expect a joke or for Rook to tease them for worrying so much. But that's not what they find.

They find Rook, shaken, sobbing, and scared. There is relief in their eyes, but that mask they always wore is gone, worn away by the prison, revealing all the terror and doubt that they tried so desperately to hide.

For the first time in this entire adventure, Rook is the one who needs to be comforted and taken care of. But that's a lie. Rook always needed help. They were just so busy helping the others with their problems that they never allowed themselves to feel the true weight of their emotions and they NEVER allowed their friends to see how fucking fragile they constantly felt. How they were always so close to losing themselves. Rook never truly allowed anyone to see them. Not even their lover.

And now, in this moment where they are finally letting out everything they've kept so hidden, the companions rush to their side. Emmrich is checking if they're hurt, Bellara or Lucanis insists on making them food, Taash or Davrin go look for the comfiest blanket they can find(if Davrin is alive, that blanket is Assan), and, if Harding or Neve is there, they calm Rook down enough to where Rook can finally speak without their voice shaking. Rook's love holds them close while the others all sit around Rook and just listen.

Rook never expected anyone to take care of them, that was their job. They're the leader. Helping everyone else with their problems was enough. But as they explain what happened in the Regret prison, and realize that their friends don't judge or see them any less, Rook feels this profound sense of catharsis. Before Tearstone Island, all the companions set out to deal with their own problems and worries, with Rook by their side, and now each one is here for Rook as they finally let that mask fall and allow themselves to feel everything.

[herejusttosufferalong]

"No one here is harassing Nic and Luke in the Lukola fandom" Now, that's bullshit. And you know it. Yesterday Lukolas were tagging Nicola at IG with edits of Doug and Jake, Ellie and Jake, calling her his beautiful gf and Nicola his supportive friend. Calling Jake the gay friend who is cheating on her with men or using her, and tagging HER in these posts. She actually untagged or blocked the accounts now. The normals things about her Jake and still there, she didn't delete and untagged, so we need to understand that type of shit is hurtful no matter how we feel about him, to tag her is harassment. Some of us at twitter and at Nicola's comments in IG demanding Nicola to stop being with Jake or 'leave poor Luke alone". That's not jakolas who made these accounts, i know even some of the IG names have tumblrs here, and i took prints, and are Lukolas. I can make a post so you can see and reblog if you have any doubts. It's time for us to take responsibility as a whole and call out this bullshit. Not to mention the growing number of Lukolas spreading that Nicola is pregnant, you know these blogs, like fiamat12, frantastical, biancadoes1 and that is harassment. And you know it. Don't be disingenuous. Then we complain that Nic and Luke vanish from IG grids and don't post much anymore.

Listen, I get it. Not everyone has the ability to read. However what I said is, “No one here…”

I was talking about the blog not a whole ass fandom 🙄 ffs

If you have proof that there are folks on this page doing this shit then by all means, send it to me.

As for the other Tumblr accounts you have issue with, go to their pages and rant.

I agree that those bullshit theories don’t need to be aired out on the Jumbotron.

And fuck no, not every opinion is valid or “has a right to exist.” Some shit don’t need to be shared openly. Full fucking stop ✋🏻

Again though, what they do is none of my concern.

Idgaf what they are posting cuz I ain’t looking at it unless someone sends me their BS and I’m sure the feeling is mutual.

I have always disagreed with folks tagging people in their BS, commenting their insane monologues on their IG/TT posts, or doing TT/IG lives and spouting off the wall shit without the ability to be checked in real time without causing mass confusion.

[aceshigh10987666]

[Image ID: Screenshot of reddit post: r/DiscoElysium 1 yr. ago beamoon2016 Never thought I'd read a story that so effectively captures why life in a broken system is worth living Discussion

I grew up in Iraq. When people hear this in the US, where I now live, they usually say: "Wow…that must have been hard."

I mean? I guess? I've been a couple hundred meters from ISIS bombings. The government is spectacularly dysfunctional. You never know when the electricity might be on. Most summer days are 50 C. The tap water is salty.

And I also love the wonky little generators people wire everywhere. I love the weird shark statue with Saddam torn off the top. I love the guys fishing in the river despite the fact that it's greenish black. I love how excited everyone gets about the government building one tiny new overpass. I also love the random overpass sitting in the desert connected to zero roads. I love hearing our friend giggle as my dad ribs him for driving a Toyota Hilux, a favorite of terrorists transporting weapons. I love the stray cats that carefully pick their way over the barbed wire on our walls. I love the people that run towards a bombing instead of away because they want to help the survivors. I love the guy who fixed my glasses with a wrong-sized screw because he lived through sanctions and doesn't need dumb things like correctly-sized screws.

But it's almost impossible to explain this to most Americans. They picture a normal Iraqi life and think it would be their worst nightmare. So I'm used to just not sharing that part of my life, or ever seeing it in media.

So this game totally caught me off guard. We're in a setting in between apocalypses, starring an alcoholic fuckup from a corrupt occupier-aligned police force, who at best might keep a couple people from dying in a gang war. It's pretty bleak. It's also incredibly fucking joyful.

Just the prose alone is so sincere. You can't write stuff this goofy, flowery, beautiful, dumb, and moving ironically. The writers clearly love words far out of proportion to how much they might be able to actually change fundamentally broken systems.

And all the characters, the worldbuilding details, the interruptions from Shivers and Esprit de Corps, hell, all the bits and pieces of your brain. There's so much attention and thus so much love everywhere in this game for humans and what humans do. Doesn't matter if they might all get shot, blown up, or wiped clean by pale in a couple years. Doesn't matter if they brought it all on themselves. Right here, in this moment, they are human, and so they matter.

I feel like this game gets why my life in Iraq was worth living. Even if a lot of my fellow Americans think the world sure would be nicer and simpler if Iraqis just didn't exist.

I thought I had signed up for a fun 20-30 hour diversion, not the feeling of being loved?!/.End ID]

an Iraqi gamer's beautiful review of Disco Elysium

[writingicing]

Been reading a lot of posts about how much the ML in When the Phone Rings is too toxic and unromantic and how can he possibly not have learnt sign language if he loved her all this time and all of that... and here is what I think.

I haven't read the book, and although I did see some spoilers, the show might change things up a bit (and as far as we have seen, the changes made in the show has been for the better.) But, I think before judging him for being too toxic, a couple of things need to be considered.

I mean, what's the genre, guys, come on -

Everyone is entitled to their opinion but the whole point of such a story and such a show is to write weird, dark, toxic characters who are fucked up. People aren't finding his not knowing sign language as romantic because to some extent, people are just letting themselves get lost in the story and experience it first.

If that is like a genuine trigger for someone, that is completely understandable. But on the other hand, can't imagine having a stance of only watching perfectly good non-toxic politically correct characters on screen - is that not boring?

And that is the point - he is fucked up.

The way I see it, it makes sense that he has not learned sign language to communicate with. Like others have been posting, I don't think he intended to ever have a proper relationship with her.

We have only seen hong hee joo's backstory and we've only seen some of it, but because of this we have an understanding of her behavior and where it comes from.

Don't we at least owe that to baek sa eon as well?

People who are fucked in the head don't always know how to love someone best. And that's okay. I don't think that the drama is saying, "hey look we are going to romanticize another husband who won't get his shit together until his wife threatens to leave him." I think the drama is trying to say, "hey, look at both of these fucked up people who have spent so many years together refusing to communicate with each other and refusing to open up."

I find that to be one of the most interesting parts of the show actually - that BOTH of them have refused to open up to each other. She hasn't opened to him in the way she hasn't opened up to ANYONE because her mother forced her to go mute and took her agency away... her mother took her right to being herself away from her, and so she is as much fucked up as he is.

And for him, it seems like his own right to be himself has been taken away as well.

While it is absurd that he hasn't attempted to learn sign language until now, I think this dialogue gives a lot of insight into how he views her in her life: "She is a brand new language."

When you don't know who you are, when you don't know how to love, when you don't know how to receive love, when you are only a fraction of your own self, would you really learn a new language? You might have that book on your shelf... it might give you comfort... it might even give you hope that you will pick it up one day to learn it... but there might still be fear within you to commit, to put effort, to approach something as scary as learning a new language (and I don't just mean sign language, but hong hee joo herself.)

Is he objectifying her in a way? Yes, he is. But he is living an objectified life as well. This is his normal, this is the worldview that he has been taught, and nothing ever has given him the hope that taking a step, a risk, will lead him to something good.

And that is exactly what is finally happening right now. I don't think he's even seen her emote, let alone resist - I mean, he seems surprised to see her angry, to see her cry, to see her make noises, to see her be so confident in her skillset, to see her challenge him. I don't think either of them have ever had stupid playful annoying moments like switching the light on and off, her stealing back her pillow from under his head, them having a tug of war with the trash bag. They have never experienced each other this way and he has especially never experienced her in this way. I don't think he has experienced anyone in this way.

So yeah, he didn't learn it before. But the best way to bridge a communication gap is to reach across it yourself. I don't even know if he's realizing it, but to pay for her dad's new care home is taking power away from her mother....to tell her she needs to stop thinking about what their family will say and go get a job next to him, publicly showing herself right by his side as his EQUAL (not just his trophy wife, mind you) when their family has been asking her to quit her job... to bring her favorite food and telling her comforting words to the best of his abilities... to defend her worth to a random kidnapper bitch... all of this is his way of reaching across that gap himself. And now she is reciprocating, she has accepted that job and she is going to teach him how to communicate with her... she is going to teach him how to learn and understand HER, who is a brand new language for him.

And yeah, alright, maybe he didn't reach across that gap until her safety was actually threatened. But sometimes, when you're so numb to yourself and to the world around you, you need cold water splashed on your face, you need an explosion by your ears to wake you up. Maybe he needed this rude awakening as not only a warning, but a sign that he can indeed go ahead and make a connection with her. That she is real and she won't hurt him, and that he can maybe even trust himself not to hurt her.

Not everyone is perfect, not everyone is created with only green flag qualities. And hong hee joo never has to forgive him, she doesn't have to do anything - but no one can deny that she can forgive if he has earned her forgiveness.

[penguininahottub]

This is, by no means, original thought. However, after the release of Beatles ‘64, I just want someone to make a Beatles film that is for us. Forget the mainstream and do what Cynthia said had never happened - people getting the emotion right instead of just the facts. The Beatles story isn’t a success story, it isn’t a rags to riches story, it isn’t an even a story about genius, it’s a story that has the power to change the world and one that will be told for ever. We are living in an era where we get to witness a myth being made and so in tribute to the oral tradition, we need to be the myth-makers. Someone needs to tell the story. I hope it will be Paul. I fear it won’t. Perhaps he can’t or shouldn’t, perhaps he won’t be believed. He definitely won’t be if everyone, including him, keeps recycling the same tropes. We know there’s no new stuff to be created, but there is a new light to be shed on what we know is there. This is beginning to sound a bit like the discovery of the Book of Mormon. No one needs another religion, but we do need is for someone to actually attempt to approach this seismic cultural event with an honest and open perspective.

Yoko allowed John to believe he was the genius. John’s canonisation (his manufactured image does him no favours) means that we can forget that Paul was the revered one in the 60s. He was the chosen one - in every way. John clocked it at their very first meeting.

“I half thought to myself, He’s as good as me, I’d been kingpin up to then. Now, I thought, if I take him on, what will happen?”- John

He took a risk, he made his choice and then never again believed in his own ultimate superiority. The story he’d told himself growing up, was that nobody was capable of spotting his genius because they were all below him. Surely a trauma response to being abandoned by his parents. Never could stand to be ignored, forever desperate to be seen and yet incapable of taking off the armour of cruelty. Look at me! Paul was the same, not armour but a wall of charm. Underneath John was soft and Paul is that almost impenetrable wall. They let each other in, and each betrayed the other. Those instincts of self-preservation that John spoke about.

Anyway, he took the chance on Paul, because he wanted to be somebody and Paul and him together made that a real possibility. Also, Paul was fucking hot and clever and talented. He was also a non-conforming weirdo who made everything look effortless and wouldn’t join John’s gang and wouldn’t let him lead. I wonder if this was Paul knowing, from the first moment of seeing John as was then confirmed by subsequent sightings and (I suspect) recces, strategically carried out to observe John (oh that bus worship carries some significance beyond an appreciation for public transport), that he knew how to handle John. Handle and manage John, in order to make him his very own.

(Is it him? Does it matter, because Paul has told us he “noticed” John many times, even before the chocolate bar.)

But, all the Paul adulation, especially John’s own uncontrollable, unconditional veneration, got to be too much. He couldn’t keep his jealousy in check. No quantity of material objects, women, money, food, fame soothed the ache for long enough. He thought Yoko, and because I am sure this is what Yoko promised him, was the only person who would always be in awe of him. She wasn’t, and the really tragic part is that Paul was from the jump, he still is and his faith never waivered.

If only they’d been able to maintain the connection and never lose the ability to read each other’s minds.

They burned too brightly. They loved too hard.

[lunaatthezoo]

She'll Wait No Longer- Chapter 10 (The End)

SURPRISE, BISHES! I had to rip the band-aid off. I was losing my mind. Here is the final chapter of the work I have been pouring my heart and soul into. I hope you love this HEA for our Seer and Shadowsinger as much as I do. You can read my blathering weeping thank yous in the notes on the chapter, but an extra thank you to everyone here on Tumblr who has shared, reposted, liked, commented, supported me with kind words, etc. etc. You all mean so much to me. Thank you, thank you, thank you. And I am not done writing- not even close! Preview below.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/60399079/chapters/155939557

The moment Azriel winnowed into the Townhouse foyer, Rhysand stepped into his path. 

“Get out of my way,” Azriel snarled at him.

“Do not do this, Azriel,” Rhys said in his cool, collected voice.

Azriel felt something snapping within him again. Shadows whirled violently around his shoulders and head.

“Why? Why should that prick sit beside her in her most vulnerable state? How many times does she have to say that she doesn't want him, Rhys? No one has ever listened to her.”

His brother’s face was the immovable mask of the High Lord.

“This Court needs it's allies in-”

“Fuck you ” Azriel seethed.

Rhysand had the good sense to look taken aback.

“Fuck you for saying that, Rhys. This Court needs allies? Elain needs allies. She needs her family to hear her, to support her.”

Rhysand looked stricken at his words, but as Azriel made to step around him he blocked his path again.

Azriel bared his teeth at his High Lord.

“You're such a fucking hypocrite, Rhysand.”

“What,” his brother responded with menacing calm, his voice now edged with violence. Tendrils of darkness were leaking from him now, challenging Azriel’s roiling shadows.

“You heard me. You spout your bullshit about dreamers and freedom and choice to anyone who will listen. But when it comes to your political games, our right to choose doesn't really matter to you, does it?”

[op-sys-chaos]

“So you’re my sister?”

“Well, according to our soul bonds we share a dad, so yeah.”

“…I have a soul bond with the Joker? That considers him my dad? That’s alarming.”

“The Joker? What kind of a name is that?”

Tim blinked in surprise. “You don’t know, do you.”

“Know what?”

“Who he is.”

“Of course I know who he is, dad raised me! I ran away and got myself killed ages ago, but he still raised me.”

Tim nodded. “Stay here and do NOT wander off. I need to make a phone call.”

He opened his phone and dialed Harley’s number.

“Hiya kiddo!” She picked up fast. “What’s up? You never call during the day.”

“Hi. I, uh… I need a Mom type of favor, if you catch my drift.”

Harley’s voice instantly filled with steel strength. “This is about JJ, isn’t it. What happened and are you okay? Do I need to call B?”

“I’m fine, it’s just… apparently my soul still considers him my adopted dad which is enough for his dead daughter to consider us siblings. And now she wants to go find him. But doesn’t recognize the name Joker.”

“You met Kitty? He only told me about her once, I’m shocked you’ve met her! I’ll be right there.”

She hung up without ceremony and Tim made one more call.

“Hey B.”

“Tim. What’s up?”

Tim could hear the noise of his family in the background. B was clearly in the batcave on speaker.

“It’s, uh… not exactly a Code JJ, but be on high alert.”

B’s voice filled with panic. “Tim?”

“I have to deal with some consequences of JJ right now. I’m still me, but… just be on high alert, in case me dealing with said consequences ends up causing his grand return.”

“Understood.”

“Hey, what’s JJ?” Dick’s voice asked off screen. B hung up before Tim could hear the answer.

He turned back to Kitty. “Someone’s coming to chat with you soon. Your dad’s ex, who’s probably the best person to tell you what happened, since she knows it all so well.”

“Okay.”

~~

“Hey, what’s JJ?” Dick asked.

B hung up the phone. “Everyone get over here now. There’s something you need to know.”

Luckily, the entire family (minus Tim who was running an errand and should’ve been back soon) was in the cave, and quickly gathered around.

“JJ is short for Joker Junior.”

“Joker Junior? Joker has a kid?” Jason asked, anger growing in his expression.

“Not… not exactly.”

“Spit it out, B.”

“He kidnapped and tortured Tim during his Robin days, twisting his mind to the point that Tim went insane and became a copy of the Joker called Joker Junior. I was able to bring Tim back to sanity, but… well, let’s just say that Tim almost killed me to please his “dad” without even realizing who I was. He was completely obedient to the Joker and viewed him as a father figure. I don’t know how the Joker pulled off that level of brainwashing, but we’ve always been worried about a repeat. If Tim’s dealing with the consequences of JJ, it can’t be anything good.”

Everyone’s faces were masks of horror by the time B was done.

“Tim… went through all of that?” Damian asked.

“He did.”

“Why didn’t he tell us?” Dick asked.

“He didn’t want to deal with it or think about it ever again. It wasn’t really Tim, it was… it was like he watched himself be JJ, he said.”

“But now?”

“Now, I’m calling Harley. She needs to be read in to the situation; she was key to saving him last time. She helped undo the effects. It was easier for her to help because, being the Joker’s ex, he viewed her like a mother figure as JJ.”

Before he could, the phone rang with a call from Ivy. B picked up.

“I assume Tim called you?” she asked.

“Yes.”

“Harley called me. She told me about Kitty.”

“Kitty? I didn’t hear that much from Tim, just that this was about JJ.”

“Ah. Well, what Tim apparently told Harley was that Kitty, the Joker’s daughter from before he became the Joker, arrived in Gotham and found Tim easily. Claiming that they had parent-child soul bonds with the same person, making them siblings.”

“JJ considered Joker a parent, so now Tim’s stuck with his soul considering that man a father? What the fuck-“

“Jason! Language.”

Cass put a hand on Jason’s shoulder to try to soothe him.

Bruce continued, “So this Kitty person is in Gotham?”

“Yes. But here’s the kicker. She’s a ghost, and she died before her dad became the Joker. She doesn’t know.”

“That’s… well that’s going to suck to find out,” Duke commented.

“No kidding. It’s why Tim called Harley. Part of it, at least. I think he also called her because she’d help keep Tim as Tim if Kitty accidentally set anything off or tried to drag him back to the Joker or anything.”

“Alright. Ivy, please be on standby in case anything happens to Harley.”

“Already on it.”

“Meanwhile we’ll keep an eye on both the Joker and Tim.”

“Good.”

“B?” Babs’ voice cut in. “The Joker’s moving and he’s heading straight for Tim.”

“Scratch that! Ivy, intercept him! We’re on our way.”

“That clown is not getting within a mile of Tim ever again,” Jason growled.

“Agreed,” Dick replied.

~~

“So, long story short my dad sucks? Awww,” Kitty said, sounding disappointed. “But hey, at least I get a cool sibling and mom out of it! If you’re both okay with that, that is.”

“Sure?” Tim said. “As long as you mean-“

“You as in Tim not JJ. Obviously.”

Tim smiled.

Harley replied “I’m cool with it too, darling! You deserve a better parent than that psycho.”

Kitty blushed. “Thanks.”

Suddenly, a loud boom was heard outside. Vines appeared in the cafe, quickly spelling out a message on the table.

“Oh! Ivy says Mistah J is gettin close. Time to go, kiddos!”

“I’ve got you,” Kitty said, turning them intangible and flying them out the back wall and across the city as past as possible.

“Cool,” Tim said as they flew.

Kitty was from Gotham.

So! Kitty was on her way to her old hometown to see what ever happened to her Dad.

See, she used to live in Gotham with her dad, mom nowhere to be seen of course, before running away to be with Johnny and subsequently dying.

She thought it would be better for her dad, not having another mouth to feed on a tight budget and not having to deal with their constant arguments every day. Looking back on it though, that might not have been the best idea. She hadn't even left a note, and for all they argued he did care about her enough that her disappearance would distress him.

But that was fine, she was going to check up on him right now!

He wasn't dead yet, she knew that much thanks to the Kid letting her access the Records of the Realms, but there was apparently some kind of Complications with his File which made it hard to pin down exactly how he was doing and where he was. So right now she was just wandering the streets of Gotham looking for him.

And guess what? No she still hadn't found him yet, he was suprisingly hard to track down. But she did find her apparent BROTHER!

Yeah, apparently sometime after she ran away, he had gotten himself another kid! He was too old to have been a bio kid so it was probably an adoption, but he definitely had a Connection to her Dad, the same kind that all parents and their kids have on their souls.

Well, if he adopted a kid that was fine by her, after all she always wanted a little brother (the Kid didn't count yet), but she kinda wished she had known before now!

She was gonna go introduce herself!

...

Tim was having a very weird day.

Well, it was a normal day for the most part. It became a weird one when a teenage girl walked up to him and introduced herself as his Sister, asking where their Dad was.

This wouldn't have been too distressing, Tim looked fairly average by the standards of Gotham and it would be easy to mistake him for another person with black hair and blue eyes.

The Distressing Part was that the girl in question had green hair, paper-white skin, and blood-red lipstick all covering a face he knew all too well. He saw it every time he had a nightmare about that night.

This Girl was the Joker's Daughter.

[1toreyouapart]

What It Cost

****THIS IS A FICTIONAL STORY BASED ON REAL PEOPLE. 18+ ONLY. I DO NOT OWN THE RIGHTS TO THE PEOPLE OR MUSIC MENTIONED IN THIS STORY OUTSIDE OF LILITH AND SADIE AND MAYBE A COUPLE OTHERS. DO NOT READ IF YOU’RE NOT UP FOR FANFIC INVOLVING REAL PEOPLE***

Terrible summary: Five years since she last spoke to him. Since she last saw him. Now his face and his voice is everywhere. She can't escape him.

Five years ago Noah destroyed her and the life they had built. Now he’s back and seeking to make amends. As much as she wants to say that it's too little too late, is it?

CW/TW: Angst, mention of addiction, cheating. Mention of character death. Language. Smut (later on). PinV, unprotected PinV (wrap it before you tap it, friends), oral (f&m receiving). All smutty warnings happen later on, so I’ll update TW/CW warning labels as those parts are written and posted. If I forget anything, please let me know so I can fix it! Thank you!

A/N: Links are still wonky right now. Will be fixed when they stop being a pain

11-Noah

Everyone's chatter and laughter in the living room drowned out the doubts circling in his head. What if he wasn't able to fix what he had broken? Or what if she just told him to fuck off and leave her alone? Was he even capable of being a better person? Or was he always going to keep making the same mistakes?

Shaking his head as though to shake off the thoughts he picked up Lily's water, the entire reason he was even in the kitchen, and headed back for the living room. Sometimes his brain could be a real bitch. Here he had everything he could want, well, almost everything, and his brain was going crazy on him. Everyone was together again, Lily was spending more and time there and with him in general. But yet those old worries were back and wearing a new face.

Slightly annoyed he dropped back down in front of her, passing the glass of water up to her. Her free hand lightly scratched his scalp in thanks and he had to fight the urge to just lay his head in her lap. He was grateful, thrilled even, that there was a group hangout happening again. But he wished like hell that it was just the two of them. Everything made more sense when it was just them.

The other day they had quite literally spent the entire day laying in his bed binge watching Supernatural, her favorite show. For hours they had laid there, talking, laughing, only untangling themselves from each other when necessary. Everything had made perfect sense then. But now? Surrounded by all their friends? Where he couldn't hold her and kiss her like he wanted? He had to settle for sitting near her or at her feet so that Sadie, who sat happily perched in Jolly's lap, didn't freak out and start asking questions. Questions neither of them knew the answer to.

"Noah?" Lily's voice cut through the noise in his head. "Why don't we trade spots? You've been on the floor all afternoon."

"Nope. You getting hungry?" He asked, avoiding the real question. She'd picked up on his tension. Damn it.

"I'm okay." She answered simply before getting up off the couch. "You're obviously uncomfortable. Get up there."

"No. I'm fine. You sit there."

Lily simply rolled her eyes, passing her water off to Sadie who watched them, eyebrow raised. Great. Just what he needed. Now Sadie would be on a mission to corner him and drill him about everything. And judging by the look she was currently giving Lily, her too.

She stepped between his legs, forcing them open to make space for her as she sat down, her back against his chest. Sadie passed the water back to her, shooting him a pointed look. All he could do was nod his head towards her and let Lily settle into him. So much for avoiding the questions.

Her hand rested on his thigh, squeezing. A small comfort in the battle being waged inside his head. All he wanted was for everything to be exactly as it had been. To be able to hold her the exact way he had before. To not care who was watching. Lily shifted, twisting and lifting herself to whisper in his ear.

"You're tense. Are you okay?"

All he could do was nod, not daring to say anything. What would he say? That he was terrified of fucking whatever this was up? Or that he wanted everyone to go away so that it was just the two of them?

“You’re a terrible liar,” she whispered, settling back into her spot.

Lilith’s hand slowly traveled over to his where she began lightly tracing the tattoos there. Something she had done any time he was anxious before. It gave him something to focus on rather than the thoughts swirling in his head. Slowly the raving thoughts stopped and his body started to relax, his breathing beginning to slow. Just as slowly as she had traced the artwork on his hand she slid her hand under his, palm up, and intertwined her fingers with his.

“You two are awfully cozy,” Sadie quipped. Though there was no malice in her voice. Instead her gaze was soft as she watched them.

“We’ve decided we can be friends.” Lilith shrugged against him, her voice calm and even.

“Babe, their business is their own,” Jolly interjected.

“I know. I’m not saying anything bad. Just an observation.”

Sadie’s eyes landed on his, and while she seemed pleased, there was a silent warning hidden there. One that said don’t fuck up again.

Tags: @collisionofyourkissmakesitsohard @alwaysfightforwhoyouare

[zara-renata]

!!Don't read if you haven't finished the Sylus myth, it's a little spoiler!!

GIRL you are a genius. The love bites. THE MARK ON THE NECK. You predicted it again!

Please I wanna hear your every thought about the myth ♥️🐲

I'm gonna put this under the cut for spoilers and also because I can't SHUT UP and I apologize in advance if it sounds like I'm gloating and being insufferable, but you're not wrong, because I am. The following contains the unhinged thoughts of a now-confirmed Sylus apologist as well as profanity. Edited to add, because my social anxiety won't just let me post and leave it, without clarifying: this is a silly game, it's not that serious, I like to exaggerate for comedic effect, I'm not actually gloating but I am insufferable, I'm just having a lot of fun and I hope everyone else is too.

The biting. The biting, I'm vibrating, the biting. I mean, he bites your hand in the destiny cafe when he grabs your hand once you reach a certain affinity, so we all knew his biting is canon, but the NECK and the fact that MC bites him back in the myth. She bites his hand in the myth, and then Sylus bites our hand in the destiny cafe, I am unwell, is he trying to remind us every time he does that that we once did this to him, that this casual, playful, slightly tinged with threat and danger of hurting the other but also filled with affection gesture, way of interacting, was there from the very beginning? remember me, beloved, remember me, with every nip of his teeth.

I don't even know where to begin.

Sylus. Sylus being chained for 1600 years in solitude. Sylus being raised amongst dragons, believing he's human, only to have painful horns and tail suddenly tear their way out of his body, Sylus who tries to cut them off himself, who mutilates himself over and over again in a desperate attempt to remain human, and not this strange Other, not dragon, not human, but both, but neither. He's the last of his kind, he's so painfully young when he's discovered as a dragon by humans, when he's run through with a sword and chained in solitude, when he's assigned the title of monster and is blamed for all the terrible things humans just naturally do without any help from him, fuck you very much. And despite being chained for 1600 years, despite his age, he's still that young, lonely outsider when MC frees him, and MC sees it. She sees it, how he's this sweetheart trying to act so tough, so mature, so strong, in the face of never-ending hostility from the world.

Like, I was worried that the times I wrote about MC wondering what Sylus was like as a child, wondering what happened to him to turn him into this cynical, cruel, 'heartless' man, I was worried that when the myth dropped that maybe dragons don't start out young or have childhoods in the traditional sense and then I'd have to like, abandon that train of thought in the fic to re-align it with canon but NO!! MC is right to wonder what happened to this poor man when he was young. IMAGINE!!! Imagine, a little boy, with big gorgeous garnet eyes and a shock of fluffy white hair and he's just a little boy!! He's playing with sticks and pretending to fly like all the adults around him by jumping out of trees and scuffing his knees and he's kicking rocks and he's petting little wild animals and carrying them around in the pockets of his mud-covered and torn shirts or pants. And then he grew into a beautiful young man and people looked at him and saw a monster. With the bite, the source of his cynicism, his disgust for humanity, I am vindicated, I am satisfied, I am fed. I need a novel about Sylus as a little, carefree boy who is so gentle that little feral kittens and foxes follow him around.

And MC!!! I love MC in game, I won't lie. She has so much more personality than most other otome protagonists, so I just feel like a happy pig in shit whenever she's not perfect, and the image of her in game being a little dragon with horns of her own, the fact that at the END SHE GROWS HER OWN HORNS AND TAIL, I AM SO HAPPY FOR HER. I need to see her absolutely WRECKING the world in response to losing Sylus.

MC and Sylus, together. The fact that by pulling out the sword, a part of him, of the fucker who ran him through is now in her, that she can see his memories, feel his feelings, that she starts to lose track of where she ends and he begins. Sylus and MC are literally kindred spirits, he's not exaggerating, they are entwined so tightly that there are no boundaries anymore, their personhood shared and reflected and mirrored, they are made for each other. The imagery before they vow not to betray each other, of trying to devour each other, the mutual hunger, walking the knife's edge of Sylus wanting to devour her, of MC wanting to carve out Sylus's eye and ram him through with a sword, he wasn't kidding when he mentions something about two snakes devouring each other in one of his memories. It's so violent and visceral and delicious. Love and hate, attraction and repulsion, Sylus and MC share the entire spectrum of human feelings between them. And then, then, they realize their feelings for each other, the love that flows between them despite everything, despite destiny and the dragon's curse and the expectations of a hostile world, and we get hazy dream-like ending of the myth, where they're lying in a field of datura but it never happened, not really, the humans came and they fucking killed him before she could put flowers in his hair, before she could touch him so gently, rolling in the fields, before she could kiss him softly and love him in the way that he has always deserve to be loved, I NEED TO SEE MC SET THE WORLD ON FIRE. Philos got what was coming to it. I'm sorry, excuse me, I know Not All People, and that innocent people didn't deserve to die, but I'm um. This is fiction and I hope MC gets her vengeance tenfold.

And. I'm trying to breathe. How Sylus and MC both fought so hard against their fate, and in the end, MC refuses the urge to drive the sword through him, he refuses the urges of his curse as a dragon/fiend, so he does it for her, he sacrifices himself for her because he'd give her everything she's ever and never asked for, and then MC curses him to never truly die, to have to find her over and over again, FUCK. His tormenter, his love.

I. God. So I love the confirmation that MC is much harsher, crueler, vengeful, a nasty little shit after being betrayed by the fuckheads who raised her, in her first life with Sylus. Like, I WAS RIGHT! Sylus remembers her happily raiding, pillaging, plundering, wreaking havoc, being selfish, being cruel, and so the MC that I write about (who is gender neutral, because I think Sylus would love MC no matter what body they're in), like, it takes him awhile to figure out that the version in the sylus series is trying so hard to be Good, while the first MC he knew reveled in the cruelty she shared with him. I am a goddamned prophet, for once in my life haha lmao sorry.

AND!!!!!!!!!! For everyone who accuses him of being a booktok dark abusive alphahole. He falls on MC's sword, he kills himself for MC, he frees MC from the terrible destiny of dying by his hand, and then MC curses him to never be able to die, and has the gall to not even remember him when she meets him in long awaited revelry!!!!!!!! I don't like being an apologist for abusive men, or for relationships that start with abuse, but 1. This is fiction. and 2. apparently Sylus is the exception to every one of my rules, because I forgive him for everything. Of course he's angry, the ONLY reason he is still alive, being forced to be reborn across lifetimes, probably with many where he never even meets MC, is because she cursed him, and then she appears before him and hates his guts and doesn't remember him and is so disgusted by and scared of him that she can't resonate with him, when she is his entire heart and the ONLY reason he's still fucking alive, again, again, and again, alive and bored out of his mind and numb and cynical and yet he must endure, lifetimes, lifetimes without her, god! and he's willing to do it again. He strangles MC, 'allow me to jog your memory,' because she would try to strangle him in their first life, help, remember, remember me, remember

I'm just. I'm really happy with the myth. I really am. Like I could keep going, about the sweet little interludes where MC and Sylus are shopping in the market, of putting the bracelet on his wrist, his just dumping gold onto the stall owners' display for this cheap trinket because it's worth so much to him because MC gave it to him, about MC scouring the forest for flowers and making him a flower crown, our soft, sweet king, he's only ever deserved flowers in his hair and to be treated gently, about Sylus not needing to eat or drink, that he can't even taste, Sylus isn't an alcoholic he's a dragon!!! About him discovering music because of MC, his love of singing, he tries to sing and he can't, he's so bad at it, but he keeps doing it because MC sang for him in their first life together, it's a deep connection to MC, it's a comfort to him, it's so different than the harsh shouting, the curses, the loud cruelty of the rest of humanity, and the organ, aaaaaaaaaaah aaaaaah okay. SORRY.

But as always, I am unsatisfied. I remain HUNGRY. There is SO MUCH that could be explored in more depth. There is so much meat in this myth, in Sylus and MC's whole story. but that's what fanfiction is for. Because the company is here to make money, and to give us just enough so that we're willing to spend like madmen to access, own, be a part of the story, but not much more than that. So I am so excited to see people explore the myth in their fanfic, and I'm excited to take what we have been given and continue fleshing it out with painfully long, drawn-out, introspective monologuing fanfic for Sylus and MC.

THANK YOU SO MUCH for this ask, for reading the fic, and for asking me to share my thoughts!!! I want to hear what everyone thinks!

[topochicoslut]

everybody wants to rule the world: prologue

fic synopsis: A young woman is sent on what is sure to be a suicide mission to spy on Ryomen Sukuna by a rival curse user who has heard rumors that the infamous King of Curses might have found the secret to true immortality

pairing: ryomen sukuna x fem!reader rating: 18+ ONLY!!!!!! MDNI!!!! IF I CATCH YOU, I'LL BLOCK YOU!!! word count: 1.1k

warnings: none for this chapter! but overall fic warnings include but are not limited to the following- slow burn, enemies to lovers, eventual smut/p0rn with plot, descriptions of violence and gore, language, slight age gap (sukuna is older than reader by almost a decade), horror elements, morally grey characters, me having an aneurysm while trying to properly describe cursed techniques, true form sukuna (eventually), etc etc. each chapter will have the appropriate content warnings added to them based on subject matter : )

a/n: hiiiii! so this idea has been bumping around in my head for the past few weeks, and I finally decided to do something about it. idk the world has just been kinda crazy lately, so I figured why not write something super self indulgent about sukuna to help take my mind off of things. this is just the prologue, the next few chapters should be dropping soon-ish after this. I just need to tidy some things up (aka edit the fuck out of everything i’ve written so far🫠🥲). just a couple of quick things- this is a Heian era AU fic, and while I did do a lil research before I started writing this, there will probably still be a couple of historical inaccuracies here and there. so for that I just wanna apologize in advance and say my bad. I have the entire story outlined, including the current number of chapters it will probably take to wrap everything up, but considering this whole thing has sort of taken a life of its own at this point idk what to expect anymore lol. I'll do my best to update it when I can based on life and work and everything else. anyway, thanks for everyone who has shown interest in this story since I first posted about it the other day! I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I have enjoyed writing it 🖤 divider by sweetmelodygraphics

Southern Japan, 888 AD

Your head was pounding when you woke up. Just as it had been ever since you’d arrived at the temple. 

Well, arrived was too kind a way to describe what had really happened. Being forcibly kidnapped and imprisoned was a much more accurate description of how you had landed in your current situation. But the specifics didn’t really seem to matter all that much anymore. 

Nothing did really. 

You were still laid out in the middle of the floor of the small shrine you’d been confined to for the past two- or maybe it was four?- days now. You eyed the carafe of water to your right, and if you weren’t feeling so groggy and sick you would’ve crawled over to it and gulped it down. Hoping that the refreshing chill of it would help clear your head finally. 

But moving felt impossible, and you were so, so tired. 

A few days ago sleep would’ve been a welcome escape for you, but now it was just another prison you were stuck in thanks to the numerous talismans that were hanging on the walls around you. They had been smart to not leave any light sources in the room with you, or else you would have grabbed the nearest torch and burned them all to ash so you could try and make a run for it. But the only source of light you had came from the moonbeams that were shining in through the tiny window above you. 

The air was thick with smoke from the incense that had been burning ever since you’d been sealed in this room. Its sickly sweet aroma had made you retch when you first arrived, but now all it did was keep your mind fuzzy and your body heavy and sluggish. That paired with the ofuda that hung from floor to ceiling was just another tool used to keep you subdued and prevent any hope you had of escape. You couldn’t cross the threshold of the shrine even if you could get your body to cooperate. 

The faint chittering sound coming from the shadows let you know you were not alone. But you couldn’t bring yourself to look in the direction they were coming from. You didn’t want to see the empty black eyes of the creatures that had been assigned to watch your every move day and night. Not when you now knew the sickening truth behind how Hisato had created them. Binding dead flesh and bone together with-

You couldn’t even think of it. 

Your former master had never been one to shy away from showing the world exactly what kind of man he was. You knew that he was cold and cruel when you had willingly joined his side all those years ago. But somehow even you hadn’t thought he would be capable of such grotesque acts of depravity in his quest for immortality. 

Or perhaps deep down you’d known all along what sort of monster he truly was, choosing instead to ignore it by willfully turning a blind eye to his unhinged cruelty because of the protection and comfort that had been provided to you by dutifully serving under him for so long. 

You had been a fool. 

If Sukuna were here, he would wholeheartedly agree with you. 

He was somehow the one thing you could still see perfectly clear in your mind’s eye. You pictured him standing in this small room with you, towering over your limp body, his tattooed arms crossed over his broad chest as he glowered down at you with those fiery eyes of his. Challenging you to get up off your ass and do something. To fight like your life depended on it, because it did. 

‘Foolish, pitiful, girl,’ He’d say.  ‘This is pathetic. You’re being pathetic.’ 

You’d honestly give anything to hear him say those words to you right now, and the thought had you suddenly giggling to yourself. You didn’t care that your laughter was bordering on hysterical, but it was just so bitterly ironic that you found yourself wishing that the King of Curses was here to mock and scold you, considering that just a few months ago you had slapped him as hard as you could right across his face for insulting you and calling you names. It was funny how things had changed between the two of you in such a short amount of time. 

The knowledge that you might never get to be near him again weighed on you. To hear him tut under his breath at you for bothering him with your ‘useless blabbering’ even though he was the one who so often sought you out. To feel his blazing red eyes follow you from across a room. To be overcome with the heat of  his large body moving in tandem over yours. If you closed your eyes you could almost taste the sweat of his skin, and smell the rich, musky, scent of cedar and smoke from the incense that filled his chambers. In your mind it was so sharp it could almost mask the disgusting smell of the incense in your prison. 

Almost. 

You wished you could warn him about Hisato. You wished you could go to him and let him know that you were alive. You wished you could tell him where he could find you. You wished you could tell him to stay far, far, away. Because even if Sukuna did somehow manage to find you, even if he did somehow arrive here and challenge Hisato, there was only a limited window before the ritual would begin, and if Hisato was successful, not even Sukuna would be able to grant him a true death like he deserved.

In the distance you heard the sudden ringing of the large bronze bell that lived in the heart of the temple. It rang loud and clear- once, twice, and then a third and final time. Despite your distance from it, you felt your bones rattle with every swing of its giant body.

The chattering from Hisato’s creatures resumed, and this time it was feverish and loud. Their little shrieks and screams filled the room, and you could hear their talons scraping against the wooden floor as they moved their decaying bodies in excitement. 

The moonlight that shone into your room was brighter than it had been only moments before. It pierced through the thick wisps of smoke that filled the air like a sword cutting through a blade of grass. You turned your head and stared out the window as you watched as the edges of the full moon that hung so heavily in the night sky began to twinge with red. Red like blood. Red like Sukuna's eyes. 

It was time. 

tag list: @after-laughter-come-tears @officialholyagua @clp-84

[zenlesszonezero]

You feelin' fired up now? Make way for the undefeated Champion! Welcome to New Eridu!— PS5™/iOS/Android/PC | Version 1.3 "Virtual Revenge" of Zenless Zone Zero, HoYoverse's urban fantasy ARPG, is out now

[lovestruckduhh]

jealous jealous boy - LN4

lando never stopped loving you, so when you announce you've moved on, his jealous streak hits new highs

smau: social media x real life

warnings - use of yn, jealous lando, yn uses she/her pronouns

an/ ive never done a one of these before, but thought id try it out? let me know if you like it (also this is not proofread like dude this got deleted from my drafts once after i'd already finished it)

ynusername

liked by 2.6mill people

call me a princess, call vogue

view all comments:

user1: HELLO???

user2: did god answer my prayers and send yn her prince?? user5: idec who that man is as long as he treats her right

user3: lanyn fans everywhere cried user1: i rlly thought they'd get back together tbh user5: bb the delusion is unhealthy, theyre over

userln4: he looks kinda ugly

user6: everyone talking bout the man but my girl is in her princess era

LANDO

lurking in the comments of your ex-girlfriend's soft launch was stupid. but then again, lando norris considered himself a stupid man, or at least stupid for her.

yn was his soulmate, his person, the love of his life, yet here he was, nine months on from their breakup sat in his drivers room picking out the differences between the man in the picture and himself.

this was the first time you'd gone public, the first time it felt real that there was no more them. there was no more good morning texts or kisses on his nose after a race.

you deserved the world, of course you did. you were a princess, but the problem was, you were his princess. jealousy ran through his mind at the thought of somebody else getting your hugs, seeing your gorgeous smiles.

they'd ended in march, officially anyway. lando had sensed it coming for a while, but he desperately clung to the scraps, the phone calls he could fit between races, the mornings where it felt like it was just them.

but it could never be just them. not when the world was watching. his three minute phone calls weren't enough to soothe the scalds of keyboard warriors and so called 'fans'. he didn't even realise what was happening till it was too late, didn't realise that he was leaving you on read as he partied, leaving you by the door, waiting for him to come home.

it didn't work, you were alone, alone far too often for somebody who lived with their partner. expectations raised as you passed your anniversaries together and you weren't at every race, weren't releasing music, weren't doing anything according to fans.

the more time he was away, the more time you could feel the anger building, because you deserved better him, and he knew that, but he couldn't let go. even now, the only way to make him smile after a shitty day was to watch interviews of you, just to see you smile, hear your laugh.

it was pathetic, but lando didn't care. he never stopped loving you, not for one second, he understand why you had to end things, but he'd changed, matured, realised that without you, there wasn't really a lando anymore.

fans had noticed it too, ever since you'd made the post on instagram, finalising your 'mutual' breakup, he'd just been less- lando.

but as he sat there, moving his legs so they were crossed on the chair in his driver room after las vegas, he couldn't help but scroll through your following list. it was long, but there had to be an unfamiliar face in there, somebody new, somebody that had stolen his girl's heart.

within seconds, his phone had ended up face up on the floor as oscar had barged in, forgetting to knock. "god, do you ever knock you muppet" he scrambled to grab his phone from the floor. "what are you even doing in here?"

"we're, erm, going out? remember?" his teammate's voice was confused as his brows furrowed. "you weren't just watching-"

"what the fuck oscar! no!" he screeched, putting his phone in his back pocket before standing up. "of we go then, yep, out the door" he said, practically pushing the aussie out the door.

maybe what he needed was to get a little drunk.

he definitely did not need to get drunk.

that was probably the worst idea he came up with as he seemingly forgot that the alcohol in his system only expands his jealousy until it's too extreme to think.

his only thought was you, you and your perfect hair and your perfect smile and your perfect random facts and your perfect voice. you were perfect, and you were his.

that man, he couldn't love you like he did, he wouldn't be able to pleasure you the same way he did. he was made for you, made for your kisses in the same way you were made for him, for his hugs.

you were made exclusively for each other, your side fit into his, his shoulder was moulded for your chin, not his, not whoever the fuck that was.

so here he was, rejecting advances from girls that he could've accepted, but instead, he sat on his own at a bar, his phone in his hand as he stared at your number.

you'd never blocked each other, it didn't feel necessary, not that either of them had contacted one another since he'd collected his things from your apartment.

but he had to know. does you love him like you'd loved lando, do you kiss him like you did him?

when he woke up, with no recollection of what had happened the previous night, lando norris decided that he was an absolute idiot.

2 months after he'd messaged you, it all seemed a little pointless.

you and her boyfriend were finished, your album that had released just over a month after your soft launch with your ex had shown the darker sides to the relationship, and as much as lando hated that you was in pain, he couldn't help but smile.

lando norris was a petty man, a petty idiot with every single song slandering your ex added to his playlist. your album was incredible, and if there were no songs about him, he may consider it just as perfect as you.

by new years eve, he still wasn't over you, not by any means. he doubted he'd ever get over you. max had taken him to a party, not that he really wanted to go, but he was insistent, even a little more than usual, but lando didn't question it.

instead, eh stood with a cup, laughing politely at a friend of a friends joke until they wandered of to get drinks from the bar. that's when he saw you.

you in your little dress, lips red as the cup you held in your hand as you laugh at something your best friend had said. he wasn't even aware he was staring till you turned, your eyes locking on his as you were both frozen in your places.

slowly, he lifted a hand in greeting, the small tilt of his wrist like he had the first time he'd met you. you tapped your friend's shoulder and said something as you walked over, dress glittering in the flashing lights as your hips swayed.

"hey stranger." your lips turned upwards as you neared him, his eyes lighting up at your voice.

"yn." he breathed out, like your name had been waiting on the tip of his tongue ever since he last saw you. "you look incredible."

your face glanced down at your dress, showing off your teeth to the man as you smiled widely, having to take a step closer to hear him over the booming music. "thank you, lan. can't say you look too bad yourself."

"always kind." his hand reached out and briefly brushed your shoulder, his own breath hitching at the contact.

"well, you know me." the statement suddenly felt more than it should do, heavier than anything that they could've spoken about, because he knew you. he knew you better than everybody and anybody.

you opened her mouth to say something before being drowned out by the music quietening, replaced by a booming cheer, "10!"

your eyes once again locked on each others as he took a step towards you, one hand raising to your cheek as the cheers seemingly quietened, their lips hovering over each others until the final number, the final second.

1

f1.gossip

liked by 76k people

f1.gossip: last night, singer and former wag, yn yln was seen making out with non other than her ex boyfriend and current mclaren driver lando norris! the pair were reportedly seen together for the rest of the night and left together. could we be seeing yn back in the grandstand? photo credits: user29464

view all comments:

user3: YOU ALL CALLED ME CRAZY!! PARENTS ARE BACK

userln4: glad theyre back together! user7: we pretending like this isnt his burner- or??

user1: not believing anything till they go official... but

user2: if that man fumbles her again, just know i will hire an etsy witch to cast a spell over your car for the next century landonorris: noted

[hwajin]

☆°. — 2024; in fics !!

since the year is coming to an end (and spotify wrapped finally came out) i wanted to make a short, personal tumblr wrapped, shouting out my fav fics i've read this year; to both recap AND animate other ppl to read them as well!! it's not a ton, but it's the fics that stayed with me the most <3

one shots

☆ ; 22 strokes ; @cb97percent || MYYY fav piece of short erotic literature this year. i've grown out of reading pure smut/ porn without plot and i get soo bored scrolling the smut tags lately, but god THIS was absolute perfection. personally, for me, good smut is when i'm reading more than just nasty fucking; and this definitely delivered. i also remember the visuals so well, like the first sentence i read i was instantly pulled into the same view i had when i first read it!! 10/10 would reread it a million times and not get bored!!!

☆ ; starry night ; @astraystayyh || AHHHH i remembered the feeling i had while i read this INSTANTLY like it catapulted me right back!!! like this is JUST the romantic shit i LOVE and yearn and long for, and reading it tore my heart APART i loved it so so much omg. i kept remembering this one shot from time to time when i visited museums OR looked at my starry night print above my bed!! i need to reread this fully next time i see a van gogh hehe

☆ ; wherever you are ; @hyunverse || god i remember this hurting me just in the right places and then flicking my heart back again. friends to lovers will always be my fav genre of anything EVER but the little twist added to this made this fic SOOO unique and fun?? like the way it's written in parts i enjoyed SO much, the continuous timeline of them growing up together, the writingggg??? this one shot inspired me to a fic of my own (which i've never finished </3) and i feel like that says enough about how much it affected me 🫶🫶

☆ ; the snow falls apart, we fall apart ; @/astraystayyh || i sobbed over this one. SO so much. the time where 'long for you' came out was so crazy because everyone wrote their hearts out and this was amongst my favourites i've read. the visuals are so impressive because i (once again) remember this one shot so vividly before my inner eye, like i remember laying in bed and reading this, close to tears and everything. the longing and unsureness and the unspoken love in this has haunted me for soooo long it all came right back when i saw this fic in my reblogs. i wanna reread it so bad actually especially since it's getting so cold and grey now 😭

serieses

☆ ; super bored ; @straywrds || okay. OKAY. mari, you're already fucking know what i'm about to say because i am annOYING when it comes to this series; but it is, no lying, the best i have ever read. if this was a full on novel i wouldn't even question it a second, and it would be no doubt one of my favourites. when i scrolled through my reblogs to check what fanfictions had struck with me i already knew super bored would be included because it would have been ILLEGAL not to. it was also the only piece i knew by heart, with no need of rereading a first sentence to remember the feeling i had when i first discovered it; i only need a quick glance at blue hydrangeas and frogs for the feelings to come back. or when i think of paris. or when i listen to this and this song (je l'aime à mourir was my most listened to song this year... like hello). like this piece has struck me SO incredibly deep and i so so hope that you know that!! (i doubt that you don't.... i was and still am in your asks about it like a leech jfjejd) like i truly and genuinely don't believe that there's another reader who loves super bored as much as me, the way my throat formed a clump when i skimmed over the tags i wrote!!! i miss the universe so so much, i hope (without any intended pressure, of course) that you get the time and motivation to finish it at some point, even if it's in 10 years time!!! after yapping so much i wanted to truly thank you for writing and sharing this piece with us; i hold it dear to my heart, every single day <3

[stabbyfoxandrew]

no wipw tomorrow

sorry guys. i never even started on last week's (because Rascal's favorite spot to nap was right behind my desk chair and I simply couldn't make him move from his spot) and I just don't care about anything right now

thank you to everyone who's sent me love and asks and messages. you guys truly are the greatest friends i've ever had. i promise i'll answer as soon as i can.

(rambling diaerie entry below. you have been warned)

lately i have been using 4tw to document Rascal things. memories of him that i love, things i will miss about him, the final days where i was watching over him 24/7. i have a log of times i helped him up. this document is over 3000 words right now. i have too many precious precious memories and my memory is not very good (as you all know) so i am terrified i will forget things about him. i can't let that happen. so yeah.

jess and i watched dead boy detectives this weekend for a distraction. it was a very good show. i get the hype now. wish it hadn't been cancelled. uh...

oh. jess and me made Rascal peanut butter fudge on Friday evening. he was... he was very tired but he still raised his head up to smell for it. and then bit me gently when i gave it to him.

i took a video of him licking peanut butter off the spatula. and i also took a video of him drinking his water because he always drank water so gently. he licked so gently. but he would bite so hard sometimes. in a partially blind grumpy old man way. :')

i wish he was here to bite my fingers again. TwT i wish i had a video of him walking in the kitchen. his claws tapping on the linoleum is music i haven't heard in over a week and that i will never hear again.

on Sunday morning Jess and i were talking about the things we'd miss and i mentioned how he hadn't "talked" in a long time. and then a little later, he did a loud deep AWOOOO that our parents heard from the other end of the house. it was so beautiful. :(

i tried to make salt dough paw prints yesterday before we left. but he was really not in the mood to be bothered (which i understand completely but i had to try i needed to have this little thing from him) and they didn't turn out great. i dreamt last night i broke one and it devastated me.

uhhh god this got long. i'm not doing the super greatest or anything but i'm trying to be okay. to all my friends who were worried, i ate yesterday. for the first time in six years i carried only one plate to my room. i cried.

i didn't cry when i ate this afternoon but it was a near thing. i kept almost tearing off a piece of my roll to give Rascal (he loved bread so much. bread and sweets were his favorites) but then i'd remember.

anyway. just an update for you all. sorry for skipping wipw but an anon gave me permission and i appreciated it a lot thank you anon (i am being completely serious). if i attempted to work on anything i'm sure they would all turn out super angsty and i don't want to fuck up our current storylines. i'm not sure when i will start wipw again to be honest.

my ocd made me do it to keep Rascal safe (most of my ocd related Things were to keep Rascal safe) and now they're... well not moot but sort of. it's kind of fucking me up to think that no matter how Good i was, it didn't matter. he's still dead. like it's shaken my world view? which is so stupid but hey i can't afford therapy so... y'all have to listen to this insanity. actually you don't i will slap a read more at the top to spare you. just had to get some feelings out and i am not quite ready to talk one on one.

but i love you. i love you all so so much. please god kiss your dog for me. if you don't have a dog, kiss your cat. and if you don't have a cat give your turtle, rat, rabbit, spider, lizard, bird, etc a smooch instead.

okay i'll shut up now. thank you for reading

<3 aerie

[lookingfts]

Oh no now I desperately need Jonny and Simone in a sexy spy thriller romance

I got a ton of messages last night so going to answer a bunch at once!

Yes to a spy thriller! They would both be just...so hot.

in response to your latest…breeding kink, professor Anthony vibes, just like absolutely down bad Anthony

I have written one breeding kink fic in regency and some in my Kate/Ant/Ben fic. And I do love a professor Anthony. Have I imagined him bending Kate over the lecture podium? Yes I have.

Club fic with established smutty Kate and Anthony dirty dancing and committing a public indecency act. 🙈

Haha I love this! I did something similar in a chapter of Say my name but there are so many options with this.

Have you ever thought about writing abo? I know it’s not for everyone but I’d love to read your take on that lol

One of my friends has been trying to convert me to abo forever hahaha. It's a little over my head, though there are some very sexy fics with it! I love Modern Omega.

As smutty ideas, I always like younger Kate and older Anthony - there’s just something about the power dynamics and forbidden romance that always gets me.

I also think we don’t have anything with BDSM where Anthony is in charge.

I love an age gap - I made a post yesterday with links to some of my age gap fics! I have woven in some light BDSM in my fics because I don't know a ton about it, but I love a dom Anthony and would eat that up.

Speaking of Kate and Anthony having one hell of a reunion after he returns from Clyvedon, please tell me there will be lots of those types of reunions in A Moment Apart to break up all the angst...? 🙏🙏🙏

I'm not really focused on A Moment Apart right now, but yes, there were definitely going to be lighter/sweeter/more passionate moments to balance out the angst. If it's all angst, why would you even want the couple to be together? There has to be something worth fighting for.

Love to see your take on the ‘stripper Kate’ AU prompt?

I believe another writer is working on that right now!

In Perfect Places, is Kate like constantly checking with Edwina in the status of her intimate relationship with Anthony? Does Kate trust that Anthony would stop pursuing her if he slept with Edwina?

Oh, Perfect Places. I was thinking about this fic the other day. I think Kate would know their status because Edwina would complain that Anthony wasn't picking up on her hints about sleeping together. Before one date, Edwina would probably be like "I'm going to surprise him with some really sexy lingerie and make a move" and Kate feels like she's going to die, but she also decides that if Anthony starts sleeping with Edwina, that will break the spell and Kate won't want him anymore. Next time Anthony finds Kate after that date, she's like stay the fuck away from me, and Anthony admits that Edwina tried to seduce him but he turned her away.

There were other asks and I've saved them in my master list of prompts! Thanks as always for your amazing ideas.