#feeling frustrated with myself in this chilis tonight

[felixvanhuss]

If I could stop fucking up social interactions and make some friends that would be great, actually

[fraugwinska]

Could you do a backstory to Hard Day? Like, how Al decided to give up control, and the first time it happened 🥺🙏

Ummm... well, I may have gotten myself a bit lost in this one :D Idk, It's gotten quite out of hand, 2,5 k words... but...um yeah :D Praying you like it :> Attention - we cook with Chili, not salt today! (MDNI)

❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

The hardest Day

„That's so unrealistic! I mean, in what world would a lion eat bugs instead of the fucking fat juicy PIG?!“

„It's a kids movie, asshole, shut up!“

The gang was sprawled out in front of the TV, blankets and popcorn everywhere. Charlie got her hands on a rare copy of 'The Lion King', and invited everyone to a 'nice, unproblematic, quiet' movie night. She didn't account for Angel's constant commentary, Husk's annoyed retorts to him or Niffty's gleeful giggling at the most unfitting scenes. Vaggie, frustrated by them, started adding to the chaos, sending scolding remarks in intervals at either of them, while Charlie tried to mediate in between songs – which she always sang along with.

You, however, were highly entertained – even though you didn't catch anything from the movie, just watching them was amusing enough. The only one missing was Alastor, who had 'business to attend' and was gone since breakfast ended.

He would've hated it anyway, you knew he had no interest in movies, let alone modern ones, and group activities like these were often straining on his patience. Although getting in the hotel last, you were the one who grew the closest to him. Why? You couldn't say definitively. Maybe it was because you never took his veiled jabs by heart. Maybe because you didn't treat him the way the others wanted you to – with care, with ignorance, with suspicion; but instead with respect, an open mind and without judgment. Maybe it was because you could challenge him – discussions about books you both read could last hours, with points given to either side equally – no winner, no loser, both richer.

You liked Alastor. Really liked him. You also had a silly, little crush on him, for a while now, but you kept that to yourself, nothing going further than a few flirtatious moments 'in good fun', calling each other 'doe' and 'buck' with a laugh. A joke between friends. Friendship, you decided, was enough for you, if it was for him.

The entrance doors slammed suddenly, making you all jump in your seats. Alastor stood at the door, looking... different. Stressed? You cocked a brow when you saw his eye twitch, while he sauntered over to the group.

„Al, do you want to join us? We're watching a movie!“, Charlie said absent-mindedly, her eyes glued to the scene of 'Can you feel the love tonight'.

Alastor gave the TV set a judgmental smile and waved his hand. „Tempting, but it has been a rather hard day, I'll just take a drink and retreat to my room, dear.“ He left the group and went to the bar, your pair of eyes the only one following him. Something was NOT right. His smile was tight, his eyes wider than usual, his movements almost jagged instead of fluid. Niffty had jumped to the bar too, insisting on helping Alastor by retrieving a glass for his whiskey from one the higher shelves. In her eagerness to climb and get it, she didn't watch her steps careful enough, resulting in a few delicate wine glasses sliding from the shelfves and breaking into a hundred tiny pieces. Alastor's reaction was as unexpected as it was worrying – he always had a soft spot for Niffty, laughing over her antics and chaotic energy, often encouraging her even to produce more mayhem. This time, however, he started to scold the maid, who blinked at him with a big, guilty eye and trembling lips.

„Such indignation, really Niffty. Clean the shards at once, and try not to remain to be such a clumsy clot.“, he almost hissed, grabbing the bottle and a simple crystal glass before striding away hastily. Your eyes followed his figure until he turned the corner to the staircase, then you got up and comforted the little demon, helping her sweeping up the glass pieces while she sniffeled tears away.

You let your gaze swipe over the group, completely ignorant about what happened with Niffty, and Alastor. Ignorant of the blatantly obvious bad mood of the deer demon.

Turning to Charlie, you whispered to her that you had a headache and would be going to bed, to which she just nodded. No one acknowledged your leave, all eyes on the screen and still bickering noisily. A bunch of friends, you are, you thought annoyed with a shaking head.

Three flights of stairs later, you reached Alastor's room. You pressed your ear to the door, and heard dull bangs, like something was thrown, and a muffled voice. You knocked, and the room instantly stilled.

„Alastor, it's me.“, you said loudly, brows furrowed. „Are you okay?“

A few seconds of silence. „I'm just fine and dandy my dear.“

You put one hand on the door. He normally would open it, to speak with you directly, face uncomfortably close to face, just the way he liked it. But it stayed close.

„You didn't look fine.“, you stated. You were ever so stubborn.

„Well, I am fine. Now shoo, darling, good night.“

You stood in front of the wooden divider, contemplating. You could just go. Leave him be, wait until tomorrow. See if he would talk to you then. But then, there was your gut. And it told you Alastor wasn't well. And that just didn't sit right with you.

„Alastor. Please, let me in.“

No response, just hint of the prickling feeling of static electricity on your skin.

„I know something is bothering you, and I'm worried.“

No response. You breathe in and out.

„I'm not going anywhere until you open the...“

The door flew open, a hand wrapped around your arm and pulled you into the room, violently. You stumbled and fell against a bookshelf, catching the fall with your hands to keep you upright. You heard a slam and a click – door closed, door locked. The static was everywhere now, flushing in waves over your body. You turned around -

Alastor was pacing like a wounded animal, he seemed fluffed up, as if every hair on his body had decided to stand up. His scleras were dark pits, blackest black, and in it his irises burned angrily in crimson flames, now focusing solely on you. The prey.

„So you came to test my patience too, dear?“, he snarled, his voice so distorted it ached in your ears. „It's not enough that that waste of cables destroyed two of my radio towers. Not enough that dozens of my most profitable souls have been rendered useless by an angelic bomb. Not enough that I not only had to put the disgraceful flat screened wretch back in his place, but also his vulgar boy toy and their brazen, attention-seeking brat.“

He grew in size as he ranted, you watched him reaching the ceiling, antlers scraping along the walls. „I manage my weakening territories, manage these imbeciles who think they can play overlords, I manage this sad excuse of a hotel, I manage the princess's unattainable ideas, and now, I also need to manage you, too, of all people? What a disappointm...“

„Stop.“

You held up a hand. Alastor growled, fluffing up even more, limbs cracking and static popping. „How dare y...“

„Stop.“, you said again. Your tone was calm, void of anger, or fear, neutral and steady. He stared at you, and you held his gaze. „Breathe, Alastor.“

You saw him fighting with himself. He fought against his instinct to oppose, to command, to put you into your place, to rip you apart. His elongated claws scraped over the floor, ripping deep ridges in the wood.

„Breathe.“, you repeated, firmer this time.

Slowly, gradually, Alastor shrunk. Breathed. Crumbled. Until he was back to his usual size and form, only with an exhausted expression.

You studied him – you've never seen him like that. He never allowed anyone to see him as something other than 'the radio demon': Powerful, unshakeable, quick on his feet and always one step ahead. How exhausting it must be. To always have the control also meant to always carry responsibility, to always fear impending failure.

Your heart whispered to you, and you followed it's advice. It could be the most stupid thing you could do, but you decided to do it anyway.

„Come here, Alastor.“

He looked at you, unsure, suspicious. You sounded commanding, but not harsh. Inviting. Like a hand, reached out to someone trapped. For a moment, you almost thought you ruined everything – his eyes left yours, they fell to the ground as he shifted on his feet.

But then – steps. Coming closer. Stopping right in front of you. And suddenly..

His head on your shoulder. His breath on your neck. His voice in your ear.

„Sometimes I'm so sick of it all. Sick of maneuvering, sick of ruling, governing, planning...“

You touched his neck, he let you, caressing the soft skin, heated from his outburst, trembling slightly at the contact. It was intimate, baring this vulnerable part to you. You heart broke for him.

He pulled himself away from you, searching for your eyes. Finding them again, he took your hand, bringing it up to his face, guiding your fingers over his lips. He just said one word.

„Please.“

So much was said with this please. You heard every message. Giving up control, just for a bit, just with something he didn't care enough about to insist on ruling, could be a small bit of freedom. Letting himself be guided instead of leading.

“Kneel down, Alastor.”

His ears pressed flat against his head, but he did as he was told. He couldn't look you in the eyes. For once, you were the one towering over him. You took his face in your hands, pulling it so he looked up to you, seeing your warm smile before your lips met his.

His breath hitched, stuck somewhere in his throat.

You slid one hand to the back of his neck, pulling him closer, the other caressing his cheek as you tilted your head and deepened the kiss. Slowly, the rigidity melted away, he started to shift, lips no longer stiff but soft and molding against your own.

He tried to stand up, but you pushed him down, gently, definitively.

“Trust me to guide you, buck.”

He breathed, one, two, three times, eyes closed, grin tight.

“Yes, doe.”

Your own excitement took a back seat. You were filled with pure energy at the thought of crossing the line with him, having Alastor in a way you only dreamed about, convinced your relationship would never come this far. But. But this was not about you, for now. Maybe, another time. If another time ever came.

You lowered yourself on him, straddling him, so you were still 'taller', and rejoined your lips. You took his hands and set them on your hips, let them rest there while you buried yours in his hair, tugging lightly to bend his head back. His initial resistance lessened, and he gave in, exposing his throat, gray skin peeking out of his high collar. You let your mouth travel to his jawline, down to the small patch of delicate, thin skin, right next to his jugular. You felt him tense, felt his rising urge to protect himself from your potential strike. You let out a soft hum as you started to lick it, sucking gently, just a bit, just to make him shiver at the sensation. And how he did.

A moan, low and sweet like the strumming of a cello, escaped him, his hands crushing your hips by the force of his grip. It hurt, but you decided to ignore it. Little steps.

“Can you take more, good boy?”

His eyes snapped open, burning furiously. You met them with calmness, with a soft matter-of-fact-ness. Not smug, not mocking. A question. Proceed or Stop?

Alastor swallowed hot saliva. You could see he was getting overwhelmed, overstimulated, and yet, he had such a longing in his eyes, such desperation.

“Yes.”

One simple word. One spark, setting your body on fire. You tried to force your trembling fingers to steady, lifting yourself slightly off him to open his trousers. With every button, his breaths grew heavier, his grip on your legs grew tighter, claws already digging in your skin and drawing blood.

“Careful, buck. I'll need these in a moment.”, you said, placing both hands on his chest, pushing him flat on his back on the ground. He let you go, arms falling useless next to him.

You leaned forward, thanking any deity that would listen you decided to wear a skirt today, and placed a hand on his growing bulge. He hissed at the touch, cracking the floor as his fingers clawed into the wood of the floor instead your fleshy legs.

Freed from it's cage, Alastor's dick was already dripping with beads of precum, a sight to behold. You wrapped your fingers around it, feeling the warmth and bloodflow, it twitched in your hand. You stroke him, eliciting the most sinful noises from the demon under you.

You took a deep breath. One more, one question more, to make sure that he wanted it.

“Look at me, Alastor.”

He sat up on his elbows, looking more helpless than you've ever imagined he could. Even his smile wavered, threatening to break. You were looking for any signs of hesitation, disgust, resistance, regret. You only found desire. A want, a need, almost pleading eyes.

Your free hand pushed your panty away, enough to expose your lips, and you lowered yourself onto him, his length slowly entering you. He was big, you were tight. A bittersweet combination. Sparks flew before your eyes as he stretched you, but you were hypnotized by his eyes.

They were blown wide, returned to black, but the irises now flickering into dials, turning, left to right as he groaned. You moved, guiding your hips up and down, feeling yourself molding to his shape in the most delectable way, and getting drunk off the look on his face.

You increased the pace on which you pushed yourself on him, adding a little tilt of your hips to take him even deeper. His voice was reduced to a static-y mess, hums and groans and moans bleeding into each other. You placed both of your hands on his chest for more support, inevitably pinning him down. His hands flew to yours, threatening to push them off him, but instead, he entwined his fingers with yours, panting heavily.

It didn't take long for him to feel the pressure, unbearable and urgent, his release approaching at godspeed.

“Doe, I can't...”

Panic in his tone. He tried to put his hands on your waist to pull you off. You understood immediately – an upbringing in conservative times, decades of living by the rules of a gentleman, he was resisting against the thought of cumming inside you. You pushed his hands away.

“Yes, you can.”, you stated, smiling at him, a hint of wickedness in your eyes. “And you will.”

Your skilled movements and dedicated demeanor sent him over the edge immediately. Protests were futile as he came in you forcefully, you felt his cock pumping his seed deep into you, hot and thick as you rocked him through his orgasm. Your own high wasn't worth chasing, too far away to matter. You didn't even think about it – nothing could feel better than this.

Alastor ran his hands over his forehead, sweeping away beads of sweat as his breath calmed down.

His hand shot out to grab you, and, still impaled by him, he pulled you into his chest, invading your mouth with his tongue to kiss you possessively. As if to transfer the command, the control he had given up, back to him. Taking it from you.

For a moment you were scared. The positions had reset to their default. Would that mean he'd push you off? Say goodnight and never talk about this night again? Returning to the Status Quo. Friends, the end.

Alastor pulled your chin up to look at you. His thumb ran over your cheek, tenderly and full of care. His eyes answered every question in your mind. You weren't scared anymore.

[699charcoalp]

All alone with you

Fanwork about Lincoln and my MC Remus. A lot of grammar problems(because English is not my first language) and ooc, my fault.

Title source: All Alone With You by Egoist.

"Lincoln." someone said in the room. "I am here," Lincoln asked, "Want something?" "Nothing," Lincoln's beloved said, "I just want to know you are still with me." "Alright." And then, Lincoln saw his singer smile and wave at him. Good, again, that smile. Lincoln walks to him and sits down. If someone had acted like that before today, Lincoln might have felt a little bit strange but……the people who did this act were Lincoln's singer, star, and boyfriend. So Lincoln thought everything about the man in front of him seemed…… normal and cute. Immediately after leaving the hospital, Remus checked into Lincoln's house, where he refused all contact with anyone connected to his past (except Lincoln) and just stayed in his room all day. Other than the above, everything is normal. Remus lived in Lincoln's house like a cheerful ghost, he'd scorch the pots when he was cooking, and he'd beg Lincoln to buy a game because it was on sale on his steam wishlist (even though Remus had the money to buy it). It's just that he doesn't make any music anymore, and it's like the days of being the lead singer of a band never happened. A lot of people will say "That is abnormal", but Lincoln is not. For Lincoln, that's just one …… piece in the person of Remus, as a seeing every turn of a kaleidoscope, which is endearing no matter what it looks like. Remus laughs very violently but rarely smiles now. Contrary to when he used to be in the band, Remus used to smile a lot at that time because it was unobtrusive. Remus dreaded every stare. In one of the few interviews he was in the band, he once said: “It's a good thing I'm nearsighted, otherwise I can't have any way of fooling myself that ‘nobody's looking at me’". Lincoln replays this interview again and again and then feels proud because Remus is not afraid of him. Even at that time the members of the band, including Remus himself, knew that Lincoln was Remus's fan (of the intimidating variety). "Did you ever think of calling the police when I used to see you every time? " When the first day of Remus moved into Lincoln's house, Lincoln joked. Remus turns around and looks at him like he heard some unbelievable thing. "No, never, "Remus told him, "Why do I have to? I mean……I know you put a huge attention on me but……" Remus throws the thing that he holding away. His hands gestured idly in the air, trying to find the exact answer in these mysterious gestures, but he finally gave up. "I don't know," Remus spoke frustrated, "Even though from the first time I met you the people around me have said that you are a bit strange ……I still feel you will never hurt me." "You trust me?" "I just believe my heart." Remus shrugged, “Even though a lot of the time it shouts so loud inside me because it's triggering some switch that shouldn't be triggered, it's fine to listen and see what it has to say once in a while, at least I can feel safe. ” When Remus finished, he and Lincoln stared at each other silently for a moment. "Any question?" After this moment, Remus tilted his head slightly to the left. "No." Lincoln laughed and helped Remus put his baggage.

Lincoln's thoughts returned to this room in the present. He changed the subject as if nothing had happened, "So what are we eating tonight?" "Sichuan fish soup with pickled mustard greens, Dandan noodles, and Chili oil wontons." Remus began to say the food's name without hesitation. "Can we just eat hotpot?" “No way.” Remus vetoed, “Hot pot and this type of dish are both from Sichuan or Chongqing but they are not essentially the same thing, and I have to correct you on this erroneous idea that ‘all spicy Chinese food is related to hot pot’.” “All right.”Lincoln stood up, "Want some drink?" "Jasmine milk tea 80% sweet no ice large and without boba." There were no pauses, and someone used his lung capacity well. "Maybe someday you'll try some new flavors of milk tea?" "Yeah, maybe when this world is destroyed." Remus roll his eyes. "Wanna come with me?" Lincoln pretended to extend the invitation as if nothing had happened. "No. I don't want to." Remus' handsome face scrunched up so fast. Remus has never been out of the house since moving into the Lincoln home, except to see the psychiatrist. The psychiatrist claims it's a "pathological isolation" and reminds Lincoln that he must help Remus out of this "rut," but Lincoln thinks it's okay that Remus doesn't want to leave the house. At least he'll never leave me, Lincoln thought, and I don't think Remus doesn't realize he's self-isolating himself. The man who can write lyrics that can make people crazy emotion can't be so stupid that he doesn't realize what he's doing; he just needs time, even if the length of that time is a lifetime. Lincoln stands up and leaves the room, Remus silently follows Lincoln out of the room before taking up position by the door to the room, he leans his full weight against the door frame and watches with his arms crossed over his chest as Lincoln begins to put on his shoes after picking up his car keys. "Miss me?" "No, my dear fan," Remus lied without changing his face, "I just wanna turn the drawing room's light off." Lincoln shrugged, he knew what Remus looked like when he tried to lie, but he was happy to pretend he was being lied to. He walks to the door, but Remus doesn't move. Until Lincoln opens the door and wants to close it, through the crack in the door, Lincoln sees Remus quietly walk toward the switch to turn the light off, and immediately afterward he hears Remus say aloud, "Take care on the road. " The door closed.

@pressplay-if I was going to post it anonymously but couldn't find it …… Anyway! (leaving Tumblr nervously, leaving my laptop nervously, leaving this internet nervously)

[sorcerous-caress]

I was the anon that sent the Meluidil ask early today :D Thank you for the content!! I literally read through all the posts, sent your blog to a friend to yap about it, then we proceeded to yap about it at Chili's tonight LMAO

I don't send requests often on tumblr (hence the anon, I am a f r a i d) because I always am afraid of coming off as pushy-but I can promise you if you ever ramble about stupid loser high elf boy myself and the homies will 👁️👁️

I am curious though, how is learning other languages perceived in this world? I know it was mentioned in another post viewers of their porn asking him to teach reader dirty words in Elvish--would he? How would an elf normally view a human learning Elvish? Would it be seen as like 'the whore humans are insulting our language' or endearing?

Is it on duolingo? Imagine she leaves her phone for a moment, he sees the little pop up of a language learning app reminding her to do her five minutes of Elvish to keep her streak up.

Maybe she'd try to learn it in secret, then out of nowhere say something absolutely WILD to him in Elvish during sex. I feel like it could either be the sexiest thing he's ever heard, or she butchers it so badly he finds it adorable.

also I saw other people sign of anon asks with an emoji and i thought that was wholesome, so in honor of discussing elf sex at chili's with a triple dipper ill do one of these

-🌶️

The combination of that emoji and the great Meluidil discussion taking places at a chili's couldn't be any more perfect considering elves' love for spicy food, especially Meluidil.

"Is it on duolingo?" When I tell you I completely lost it. Just for a second I was fully immersed and living in a modern dnd world where learning how to cuss someone out in ancient elvish was a mere phone tap away.

Sadly, no, I don't think it's on fantasy duolingo. Not from lack of effort, believe me the shareholders pulled every string, but elves remain stubborn and have it taken down—especially the high elves are the most vocal about their distaste for their beloved language to be butchered by humans and else.

They're too proud to let learning elvish be easy or accessible, other species must "prove their worth" first before the elves would share their knowledge, and of course, what better way to learn elvish than start with the thickest of books filled to the brim with poetry, prose, and complicated euphemisms.

It's just that... the "dislike/disgust" to "fetishisation" pipeline in some of those elves is far too real, their reclusion is a double-edged sword because now, in the perspective of those lucky few, humans seem to be made for breeding, designed to entice and seduce them, otherwise how would you explain this deep seated attraction and frustration they feel towards your kind? What do you mean it might stem from envy at the freedom humanity tends to overindulge in? What nonsense. They're definitely not jealous of something like that so much that fucking you is the closest thing to freedom they'll ever taste.

Haha...

ha...

Either way, it's a self-fullfilling prophecy. Elves make it harder for others to assimilate into them, whenever someone—elf, human, or else—attempts to bridge the culture gap, it mostly ends in failure, elves really don't like sharing their knowledge, habits, or even language.

The viewers on the forums are another case, they're deliberately requesting that Meluidil makes you say words in elvish because of how sacrilegious it feels, wrapping around to being insanely hot.

Your best bet when it comes to learning elvish is either knowing an elf and harrassing them into teaching you, or browsing sketchy websites full of seedy ads about single hot succubuses near you, and hoping this one doesn't get taken down before the end of the week like all the others.

But you know what you'll find on duolingo? Infernal, oh yes. And it's just 10 straight courses full of misinformation and deliberate mistranslations. Honestly, demons can't believe that they haven't thought of this sooner. The number of overconfident mortals signing binding contracts with them skyrocketing ever since, now they only need to litter the words "duck" and "pineapple" across a contract for your average human to misread them as some get-out-of-jail-free card.

Now, back to our beloved loser elf. If his human was attempting to learn some elvish in secret, it really depends on how you go about it.

Maybe you catch on to some of the words Meluidil has a habit of saying? Elvish is very melodic in nature. It's hard not to be drawn to it, leading you to unconsciously eavesdrop on some of Meluidil's phone calls. Not understanding what he's saying, but finding correlations between certain phrases and subtle changes in his tone and demeanour.

You pick up on the word he hisses under his breath after stubbing his toe against the table's leg.

Then there are the words spoken through breathy whispers against your neck, repeated like a prayer as your insides squeeze around him, making him stutter halfway through his sentences.

It's different from the latin-like words magic tends to adapt. It sounds like the whole language is based on poetry.

Maybe picking up words that way will help make them sound more natural, you still butcher the pronunciation, but his reaction is more giddy and surprised than anything else.

But if you do take the risk and dive in head first into these shady "Elvish 101" online booklets...

There's no guarantee Meluidil won't rush out the room because he's trying so hard not to burst out laughing at what you just said, and he feels so guilty because oh you must have went to such length to learn it, but by Corellon it's the funniest thing he's heard in the past decade.

It's unbelievably endearing. He's getting cuteness aggression and has to cross his arms to restrain himself from hugging you to death because. You shouldn't push a man past his first century into having a heart attack like that.

In the end, no matter which method you start with, both routes lead to the same result of Meluidil offering to teach you some Elvish if you're that curious.

It's definitely not an excuse to uh roleplay teacher student... or maybe private tutor and—Okay he needs to go back on track before his mind wanders further.

He doesn't make a good teacher at all, the man is distracted very easily and suddenly this regal put-together elf is a blushing mess because when you leaned down to read something in the book he's showing you, he glimpsed inside your shirt.

Full grown ass man btw, same one who has slept with you countless times, same one who posted these videos on online human kink forums which he admins at, losing his marbles and melting into a puddle at the accidental flash of a small patch of skin below your collar, like he's a repressed victorian maiden.

Yeah... there's no sugar coating it. He's a terrible teacher when it comes to you. You'd tease him for being a massive down-bad simp, wasn't it for the fact he'd wear that title with pride.

Like oh, he's a simp? What gave you that idea, human? Was it his previous massive collection of first-copy human porn magazines?

Don't be absurd, he's not that massive of a simp. He just... stays in the same bed as you while you sleep despite the fact elves don't need to sleep because... uh, he's just enthusiastic about sleep? Yes, it has always fascinated him as a phenomenon.

No other reason.

-

Thank you so much for your kind words <3 your request cheered me up a lot, I genuinely missed talking about this eccentric high elf.

Hell, I reopened my requests just in case you ever wanted to send a second ask, and here you are!

I reassure you that you're not being pushy, I understand that it can feel scary to just burst in gun-blazing with your request/concept idea, especially since you said you don't send often.

But you're very welcome to, even if you send a bunch at once, I'll reply to the ones I find most interesting! Sometimes, a request doesn't get answered not because the author found it offensive, but because we can be at a genuine loss of ideas or how to approach this—How all Shadowheart prompts got squeezed dry out of me.

Yet the Meluidil tank is still half full, so feel free to drop unannounced whenever you have new ideas you'd like to share with the class about him.

Sometimes, life just gets in the way, I meant to reply to your ask sooner, but December seems to be a cursed month where irl problems are never in shortage-

Either way, I got unimaginably happy when you told me that you and your friend have been discussing my writing! And about one of my favourite og characters! and at chili's one of my fav restaurant!!!

I hope life is good to you, anon, do take care of yourself.

[hell02kitty]

The Super Bowl is tonight and my family has wings, fries, chili, hot links, and burgers down stairs and I’m locked in my room right now trying not go down stairs and eat everything on the island in my kitchen. I feel like screaming and crying. I’m so hungry, but I’m still fat and no where near my Ugw…I could’ve been if I didn’t binge so much this month. The feeling of wanting to eat mixed with the desire to want to be boney is making me feel overstimulated and pissing me off! I can’t make myself eat even tho I want it so bad!!! all I can think about is how I’m gonna look if I keep letting my hunger win. It’s so fucking frustrating I feel like I’m trapped in between two walls and they keep getting closer and closer to each other. Either eat to satisfy your cravings, and feel like shit after, or don’t eat, and be hungry and moody for the rest of the night. Either way I won’t be happy.

[faefrosting]

Long rant/vent about my stupid eating habits

I feel so so bad everytime my mom makes me dinner. Especially when she makes a separate pot for me to add things to to it that I like, but I still have to pick it apart cause she added the one thing I have constantly stated I do not like in my food.

Meat, I do not like meat in many dishes. I know my parents want me to eat more protien but I do not like eating meat and I will not force myself to. It just distresses me, I don't like ripping apart meals made for me having to through half of it out, but I know if I kept the meat in the dish I would have just thrown out the whole dish instead of half of it.

Like tonight she made chili, she made a smaller pot just for me of the chili that added corn cause I like corn.

If you participated in my chili poll I had a while back you'd know i hate meat in chili and prefer to be beans instead. My mother was there during the argument I had with my sister on whether beans belong in chili. To which my mom heard me say several times "I don't think meat is good in chili" and "i like chili with no meat". So as you can probably guess. The chili my mother made tonight? All meat, no beans. The very kind of chili i hate and will not eat.

So my mother watched as I painstakingly separated as much of the meat from the corn and diced tomatoes as I could and added in beans. And when I asked her what to do with the bowl full of meat, she told me to take it outside for the cat to eat and I asked her if she was sure and she said yes.

I'm just frustrated this keeps happening over and over again. That i have to say over and over again that I do not like meat, that i only like certain things with meat and those the expectations not the rule (things like hamburgers, hot/corn dogs, chicken nuggets, literally any meat that is turned into a uniform goo basically)

I hate that it is not taken into consideration, that it is ignored. And I also feel like I'm missing out on important vitamins and minerals I could be getting if they at least got me substitutes instead having the one thing I won't eat as the main option most nights

At least they don't try to force me to eat fish anymore and understand that I genuinely developed an intolerance and possibly a mild allergy to it

Also it's not that I don't want to eat meat, I actually do, but it makes so sick and genuinely is an awful experience for me to eat most meats (texture issue, its why I can stand heavily processed slop "meats" and not fresh cuts)

[kinetic-elaboration]

February 27: Potluck

I really need to take a nap tomorrow, I am so behind on sleep. It’s terrible. I’ll never have a decent weekend if I don’t get it together. Honesty, I really am falling into all sorts of bad habits from last fall again and I don’t like this for me at all. Also at work I keep feeling like… I have all these things I should be doing but I just start them and then set them aside and forget about them, so I have all these barely started things around me. Or so it seems. I have been doing a pretty good amount of transcription work, though, which is good.

Today was our belated Valentine’s potluck, which a coworker and I have been organizing for several years. This year felt rather cursed. Almost no one signed up at first and then he got sick, so we moved it back two weeks. But he was still sick enough that he could attend but not eat anything, which made me feel pretty bad. And I just had this paranoid feeling that we hadn’t done enough somehow, to remind people of it—I was just feeling really lazy about literally everything to do with it and was sort of hoping it would just work itself out. It did, cause like it’s not that complex; I’m not sure what I was expecting, like Fyre Festival? But it was fine. Pretty much everyone brought what they were supposed to bring, no one noticed I didn’t do any decorating (didn’t feel it, also, it’s not actually Valentine’s Day), and I totally gorged myself on chili such that I barely needed dinner tonight and also felt like I had an excuse to sit around doing nothing for hours. It, uh, makes sense in my head.

I want to write. But, I also want to have the time and energy to really get into it, which is absolutely how I end up psyching myself out of everything!

It feels like spring and I don’t think I should have to go to work during this. I just feel such a frustration that I’m in this hole again for no particular reason. I really need to take a long weekend soon, and it’s just a bummer that I have a meeting on Friday and can’t impulsively make it this week.

[maawi]

I just want to kiss a girl, is that so much to ask?

[mapleshmaple]

,

[ed-teach-enjoyer]

since I was like 14 only girls have ever expressed romantic interest in me and it's not like I'm mad about that it's a free country and attraction is attraction but I'm interested in dudes and the last time I tried to really pursue a romantic relationship with a dude he said he'd never see me as a guy and like. I know that's just going to be true until I start hrt and stuff but also I'm not masculine at all and I don't act like a dude so it's not like I can expect men to ever be interested in me at all anyway

[freewheelshippin]

Major insomnia and heartache in this chili’s tonight (this morning), so here we are with a quick little fic about two dum dums learning how to share heartache.(SFW, no major content warnings I can think of.) 

next day edits: well, now that it’s not ass o’clock, i went back in and tidied this up and added a fair amount more!!  (much more satisfying ending instead of something so abrupt, haha.) doesn’t add any further content warnings, tho! 

Maybe he shouldn’t have pushed her, he thought as she tensed and her demeanor changed entirely. 

“I want to know,” he continued, resolutely. 

“Everyone says that,” she spat. “And nobody actually does.” 

“Why wouldn’t I?” Ranmaru barked. “You heard me out when I told you about everything. Were you lying all those times you listened? Pretending to care just long enough I get over myself and shut up and move on?!” He knew, in his heart of hearts, of course she wasn’t, but the way she said it insulted him so badly he could practically taste the bitterness. 

She paused, looking to the side ruefully, shamefully. He had a feeling she’d struggle with eye contact this conversation, and he slouched his arms together, dropping back onto the couch with an irritated sigh, out of her line of sight. 

“....No. Absolutely not. Look, this … is different.” 

“How,” he growled. “You want to fucking talk about it. I tell you I’ll listen, it’s the least I owe you, and you say ‘no.’ You think I’m not gonna say ‘why’ after you shit all over my answer like that?” 

She took a longer time than usual to find words, so just a few empty seconds where he waited, frustrated and somewhat furious at the disconnect. 

“...You’re right that I shouldn’t have put it like that. That was shitty, and I’m sorry. But there’s...just...some kinds of life experiences that I’ve found nobody has any reason to learn to understand if it doesn’t happen to them. And...nobody’s prepared to deal with it -- meaningfully, anyways -- even secondhand.” 

“Are you just looking for excuses to run away from--” He nearly hesitated over the words, realizing what they were almost a second too late, but marching forward with them anyway. “--trusting me?” 

Another pause. “....I don’t know. I...can’t think of a time I’ve talked about it and….it hasn’t been taken from me.” 

“What the hell does that mean?” 

“It means....” She lingered long enough that Ranmaru worried, rousing himself a bit from staring blankly at the ceiling as he sprawled on the couch. She hadn’t moved from where she had been standing, but she looked at a far-off bare wall with nothing on it. “...that...the way people aren’t,” Another pause, as she searched for the word, “magically equipped with how to deal with it. It...turns me from a person into….anything else.” 

“Like what.”

“An after-school lesson. Entertainment. A new toy. A pet. A messiah to burn later, if I’m being really dramatic and cynical. I don’t know, it depends on what flavor of asshole feels like coming out, and it’s never anything good.” 

“Then tell them they’re being an asshole -- tell me I’m being an asshole -- and don’t quit until you get what you want out of them!” 

“Look!” She finally lost that last twinge of polite restraint, of saying things more nicely than Ranmaru thought was worth bothering with. “What if I didn’t know how to do that, ‘cause how could I?! And what if I don’t want to have to fight every fucking time? What if I just want to be important enough to get it right on to begin with?! And-- don’t give me that shit about being so strong, you’ll survive the mistakes, blah blah -- fuck that! I’m tired of it! I’m not a crash-test dummy! So fucking crucify me for not buckling in to crash myself into who fuckin’ knows what just ‘cuz you got it in your head this is how you’ll repay this stupid friend debt you think you’re in -- you’re not! Just---” she grunted exasperatedly, her uncharacteristic stillness disappearing as she felt less cornered. 

“I don’t care if you think I don’t owe you!” Ranmaru shot back. “I do! I want to even the score! If you did right by me, then I gotta do right by you! It’s how I do things, and I’m not about to just forget and let you keep diggin’ yourself into this hole--”  (this hole I know very well, Ranmaru thought) “-- where you get so hellbent on doin’ it on your own you cut down all your vision, ‘n your potential, ‘n all the ways you reach it, ‘cuz you keep having to re-invent the wheel just to take a step forward with all the shit you’re carrying!” 

“Will you stop trying to quantify this!?” 

“I’m not! I’m just tellin’ you what I think, and I’m right!” (I know I’m right because of y--) 

“Okay! Maybe you are! About the hole thing -- not the whole thing, the -- the fuckin pit, not the whole-- ah, fuck it, you know what I mean! But I still think this debt system you keep putting basic acts of friendship into is dumb as shit!” 

Ranmaru could already feel the point of this argument slipping away from them. “Are you gonna tell me what’s eating at you so bad or not?!” 

She froze again. “---I’m. ….No. I’m not. I...my heart’s not ready, if things....go badly again.” 

“Fine,” Ranmaru said, resolutely. He was hurt, in a small way, but he felt better that she was at least being truthful, and least acting out of her best interest, not some idiotic idea of useless martyrdom. H couldn’t fault her for protecting her heart. He, of all people, couldn’t possibly do that. 

“...then I’ll work to be someone worthy of the trust you deserve,” he murmured, somewhat less resolutely. 

The words just came out of him before he could think better of it, so Ranmaru hadn’t considered any reaction to expect. But stunned silence, then sniffling tears, that was probably the reaction he’d been least prepared to deal with. 

“Oi-- don’t---” Ranmaru leapt to his feet, like he were a startled prey animal. “Don’t cry!” 

“Don’t tell me what to do!” she huffed through a miserable, contorted, crying face. “Come here, you stupid bastard!” She came towards him with arms outstretched, only just enough warning for Ranmaru to open his own and receive the gesture, an awkward stalwartness to him as he stiffly supported her while the tears ran their course. 

“I think it’s amazing how when you say shit like that,” she murmured, her arms tight around his chest. “I really do believe you mean it.” 

“....’cause I do,” Ranmaru grumbled, realizing his face burned just a little as she squeezed tighter, and he felt just a little colder when she let go. 

“...It’s not about you changing yourself, you know,” she continued, busying herself with cleaning up her tears and snot. “It’s not about you not being enough. You know that, right?” 

“...I don’t care if it is. I’d want to do it. I know you don’t expect people to be anyone but who they are. Whatever change I’d have to make was one I should be working on, anyway.” 

“Oh, god,” she sighed, stepping away to the nearest sink to wash her face, but there was a smile on her voice. “I really can’t underestimate how seriously you take everything.” 

“I told you. I’m always serious about what I do,” he muttered, a little sourly, as the faucet ran. 

“Charm point~!” she called from the bathroom in such a silly, mocking voice Ranmaru could hardly believe she’d been crying like she had just a bit ago. 

“Shut up! Stop saying weird shit like Reiji!” 

“Oh.” She came back with an ominous smile, a little at odds with her puffy eyes and smudged eyeliner. “Well, that’s how I know I really hit the nail on the head.” 

“What’s so charming about taking things seriously,” he bristled. “It’s just what people should do!” 

She laughed, so genuinely, so warmly, Ranmaru felt a twinge in his stomach. Maybe it was pride, maybe something else he didn’t want to unpack just yet. 

“C’mere,” she said again, despite going right to him, wrapping her arms around his waist tightly before leaning back, hoisting him higher until his toes dragged against the floor. Ranmaru let it happen, feeling his weight shift onto hers as she growled into the effort of getting him into the air, even with his extra height on her. He complained about these kinds of hugs, once, but had since grown so used to them, there was something about them he could admit to liking. 

“...Alright, alright. Put me down. Oi. Don’t swing me around, put me down!” The cats had gathered around, looking ready to pounce at his toes and pant legs as they waved through the air. 

“Is big baby scared of heights,” she said with that facetious tone that always got him. 

“Who said anything about that!? Put me down before the cats get on me -- like -- damn it, exactly like that!” One took a flying leap, batting at his legs until her claws her tangled into his pant leg. He could feel her grin into his shoulder as she obliged, slowly enough that the cats could get out of the way.

“It absolutely is what people should do,” she murmured, flopping back around him after he freed the the paw from its fabric prison (and his pants from any more catscratches). “You’ve just got the big stupid, stubborn heart to follow through with it. With literally everything you do.” 

“...Tch.” Ranmaru wrapped his arms around her then while he felt his cheeks, the tips of his ears prick with heat. “Of course you’d make it about heart. It’s not, it’s about the ways souls burn when you give ‘em the right passion and drive....” 

“Mmhmm,” she said, squeezing one last time before she released again. “Heart. It’s very rock of you.” She patted him on the back as she slipped out from his arms. “I’m gonna get myself a glass of water, you want one?”  

“...Oi. It’s not --” He sighed. “Whatever. Yeah, I’ll take one,” he replied, stretching back over the couch.

She disappeared, and ice and water clinked into glasses. Ranmaru, for a stolen moment, rested his right hand over his chest, quietly lingering at how open and warm it felt beneath all the skin, muscle, and bone. 

Even if she didn’t like the idea of it being a debt, Ranmaru swore to himself that he would’t let this sort of favor go unreturned. It was how he did things, after all. 

[writers-block246]

Jughead x Reader Part 2 - “Skates”

Chapter 1, Chapter 3

Chapter 2:

You sashayed throughout the diner on your second day of the job, feeling a lot more comfortable and relaxed; unlike the day before. Gliding on your skates around the counter you glace over when you hear the bell on the door. Hoping and praying that it’s him, you stare intensely.

Nope. Just another regular customer. Dang it.

“Waiting for someone?” Pop asks you, as he notices your gaze meeting the door.

Yes.

“No, Of course not,” you lie.

“Mhm,” he doubtingly rolls his eyes. You furrow your eyebrows to keep from smiling.

Did I go home and think about Jughead Jones nonstop? Maybe...

“He’ll be here, newbie. He always comes,” he assures you, not believing your lies.

*ding*

“Order up for table number 9! Chili cheese fries and a chocolate shake, with extra cherries.”

You grab the tray of food, carefully skating over to table 9 and giving them a few napkins as well. As you are skating back to the counter, a figure outside the diner windows catches your eyes. You immediately recognize his lean figure, piercing eyes, and sexy smirk.

Jughead Jones.

He kicks down the kickstand on his motorcycle and takes off his helmet before walking towards the door. You quickly preoccupy yourself behind the counter by pretending to reorganize the soda cups so it doesn’t appear that you were waiting for him.

The bell on the door rings, and there he is. Looking just as handsome as the day before when your eyes met for the first time. He’s wearing his typical serpent jacket and grey beanie. You lick your lips, trying not to let him see you slipping sly glaces at him as he sits down at his typical booth.

“Pop!” He hollers. “Give me a strawberry milkshake to go.”

Pop chuckles under his breath. “You got it Jug. Just how you like it!”

To go? He’s leaving already? He just got here.

Once the milkshake was ready—with no whipped cream of course—you carefully take it over to him in a cup and give him a lid and a straw so he can easily take it to go.

“Woah, Y/N. How’d you get so good on those skates in one day? You must be a natural,” he teases you.

“I wish that were the case, but actually I was skating around my garage until 2 AM last night trying to get better on these things,” you confess to him, smiling as you gesture to your skates.

“I guess practice really does make perfect.” He replies, looking you up and down with that same smirk that makes your legs feel like jello.

He stands up and starts heading toward the door.

“Where are heading off to so quickly today?” You ask, trying to get him to stay and talk to you for just a few seconds more.

“My dad needs help at the Andrew’s Construction sight today,” he shrugged, not looking super thrilled about it. “But hey,” he suddenly perks up, “what time do you get off tonight?”

You are caught off guard as to why he would want to know a small detail like this about your life. You refocus yourself so you can spit out the words.

“7:00, why?”

“Me and some of the Serpents are going to the abandoned drive-in tonight. You should come, if you want.”

Hearing these words escape his lips you almost need to pinch yourself to see if you’re dreaming.

Is Jughead Jones asking me to hang out later? Omg. Play it cool.

“Sure, I’d love to come!” You answer a little too enthusiastic. You clear your throat. “Uh, I mean, sounds cool. It’s cool.”

He chuckles, his dimples slightly peeking out as he smiles wide.

“Well then, cool. I’ll see you tonight, Skates.”

Hearing him calling you that nickname again sends a chill down your spine.

Did that just happen?? Holy shi-

“Newbie! Let’s go, stop standing around!” Pop calls out to you. You immediately skate back behind the counter, not wanting to make him anymore frustrated then he already was.

“Sorry, Pop.” You start to grab silverware to organize in the drawers before Pop taps your shoulder.

“Y/N, I’d be careful if I were you,” he starts to warn you. “Jug is a good kid, but he hangs around on the wrong side of the tracks. Those serpents don’t mess around.”

You let out a small sigh. “Thanks Pop, but I’m not afraid of them. I really like Jughead and he just basically asked me out, so I’m going.”

“To the abandoned drive-in? How romantic of him,” Pop sarcastically remarks.

“Were you spying on us?” You ask him, raising your eyebrows.

“Hey, If you’re gonna flirt with a boy while working a shift in my diner, I wanna get all of the juicy details.” He pats your shoulder, smiling at you sincerely before getting back to work.

As you finish up organizing the final pieces of silverware, you can’t help but feel like the seconds are moving unbelievably slow counting down to your date with Jug. But you can’t help but feel a slight pit in your stomach.

What if this is a bad idea? What if I’m really getting myself into trouble hanging with these serpents? But more importantly, what the heck am I going to wear?

*ding*

“Order up!”

-Admin Bria

Hope you like it so far!

[sheewolf85]

New Fic - Right Where You Belong

Summary: Based on Twitter ramblings from Keelywolfe, Nanenna, myself, and many others!

Edge is the older brother here, only a teenager himself and living on the streets with Red when he's invited by Rus to stay at his place with his dad and younger brother. He can watch the kids while Rus goes to work at the lab with Gaster! It's perfect! And it is, for a while, until one day the kids get into a fight and Blue gets hurt.

As much as Edge wants to comfort the kids and make sure everything is okay, he can't help but wonder what's going to happen when Rus and Gaster get home. Will he and his brother lose their warm, safe home?

Notes: This has been stuck in my head ever since this morning when it was talked about on Twitter. It had to be written!

One quick note here, Edge and Rus are the same age, about sixteen or so. Rus can't do much at the lab, but enough to earn a bit of cash to help out with the bills.

I want to gift this to the ppl on Twitter, but I feel like I'd miss someone, so, if you were part of the twitter convo, consider this your gift!

Read it AO3 

Or read after the cut

Stars, he was tired. He hadn’t slept well the night before because his baby brother hadn’t slept well, and all Edge wanted was a damn nap that he wasn’t likely to get anytime soon seeing as how he was the only one in the house to watch the two younger kids.

Which, admittedly, he wasn’t doing a very good job of at the moment. But they were fine; they were in Blue’s room playing while Edge attempted to keep his sockets open in the living room. He was listening, though, and they seemed to be playing some sort of superhero game, both of them being the heroes while several of Blue’s stuffed animals played the bad guys. It was honestly cute, even if they were both a bit grouchy today.

To top it off, neither of the toddlers had taken a nap. Edge had honestly expected Red to pass right the heck out since he’d barely slept the night before, but no, he was chattering to himself the whole hour while Blue sang himself lullabies.

It wasn’t much of a surprise when their play turned a bit sour, their gentle squabbling over which villain was going to get their butt handed to them next turning into an all-out argument complete with raised voices and name-calling.

Edge really should have gotten up to check on them and help them calm down fifteen minutes ago. He shouldn’t have let it go on so long, but he was so tired!

Red screeching in anger got Edge to his feet in a hurry. He made it to the doorway of Blue’s room just in time to see Red throw a toy at Blue. It hit him square in the face with enough force to knock him down and smack the back of his head on another toy.

Blue was immediately in tears, screaming in both pain and anger as Edge rushed over to check him. Edge’s soul began to pound as Blue sat up and marrow dripped from nasal aperture. There was the tiniest of cracks on the left side, close to his socket.  

Edge’s mind began to race at the sight of the crack. He could only barely remember how he’d gotten the vast majority of his scars, but he knew they all hurt when they were fresh.

“i didn’t mean to!” Red hollered, running up to them.

Blue kicked at him, screaming again and barely missing his knee by a few inches.

Edge pulled his little brother back, away from potential harm by Blue’s flailing feet. “I know, Red, but you can’t throw things like that!”  He turned his attention back to Blue. “Shhh, it’s okay, Blue,” he said softly. “You’re okay; let’s get you cleaned up, okay?” He helped Blue to his feet. “Red, I want you to stay here and think about what you’ve done while I help Blue.”

Red sniffled and nodded, his gaze on his feet. Edge so wanted to scoop him up and remind him that these things happened but he needed to try to control himself a little better. He didn’t have time; he had to get Blue at least cleaned up before Rus and Gaster got home.

Thinking of Rus and Gaster only made his soul pound harder. Gaster was a great father, very kind and attentive to his two boys, and Rus was the kind of older brother Edge so wished he could be. The fact that Gaster even let Edge and Red stay in their home spoke to the kind of man he was, even if Edge did work for his stay. He cooked and cleaned and cared for the children, but he’d do it all four times over if Gaster asked it of him.

He set a still-sobbing Blue on the counter by the kitchen sink and turned on the faucet to wet a paper towel. After wringing it out one-handed, he tried to gently wipe at Blue’s face. Blue screeched louder and pushed Edge’s hand away.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay, Blue,” he said gently. “I’m not going to hurt you, buddy, but I need to get you cleaned up so I can see if you need a healer.” Stars, he hoped Blue wouldn’t need a healer.

Blue whined and looked up at Edge with bright, starry eye lights, but he nodded and let Edge do what had to be done. Gently dabbing the smeared marrow away, Edge could finally see the extent of the crack. It didn’t go through his bone like the one in Edge’s socket, thank goodness. It was only on the outer surface of the bone, but that surely didn’t mean it hurt any less.

It had stopped bleeding finally and soon Edge had the little guy all cleaned up. He took him to change his clothes and then set the boys in different rooms for time out, which only resulted in more screaming from children who were adamant that they were okay now and wanted to play. Red even kicked at him just before he shut the door to their shared room.

Both kids in time out, their muffled cries still echoing through the house, Edge found himself in the bathroom and locked the door. Sitting on the floor by the bathtub, he drew his knees up and let his head fall between them. He tried to wrap his arms around his head to block out the sound, but it was hopeless. Even among the cries from frustrated children, Edge could hear the memory of Blue’s painful screaming.

He was going to have a bruise, that was certain. Even if the crack were somehow miraculously healed by the time Blue’s father and older brother came home, there was no way to hide what had happened.

Guilt twisted in Edge’s soul. Would he really have tried to hide it? What kind of person was he? Gaster trusted him with his youngest child, and that was how he was going to repay his kindness? No, he had to be honest and let the chips fall as they may.

A tight sob forced its way out of Edge’s chest. He knew exactly how the chips were going to fall. This was all his fault, and if Gaster was even a fraction as smart as Edge knew him to be, he and his brother would be back out on the streets by tonight.

If it were only Edge himself, he could handle that. He’d made a mistake and he’d pay the price. What was killing him now wasn’t what he was going to lose. No, it was that his baby brother was going to have to pay that price right along with him. Red didn’t belong on the streets. He deserved to have a filling meal each night and a warm, safe place to sleep.

If there was a way to ask Gaster to please keep Red here, he’d do it, but he couldn’t. He didn’t know if it was selfishness or the knowledge that Red could be a handful, but he would not ask Gaster to care for his brother.

The sudden vibration of his phone in his pocket made him jump. He hurried to his feet and pulled out to silence the blaring alarm.

He swore under his breath and went to the sink to try to clean up. Rus and Gaster would be home within the hour, and he hadn’t even started anything for dinner.

Splashing some water on his face only marginally helped, but it was enough to calm the panic still aching in his chest. A few deep breaths later, he opened the door and went to let the kids know they could be free from time out.

Except both their doors were open and the two were playing quietly together in Blue’s room. He stood in the doorway and folded his arms across his chest.

“What are you two doing out of time out?” he asked, eyeing the both of them. The discoloration of a bruise was already starting to bloom around Blue’s left eye.

“You were in the bathroom crying for a long time,” Blue said sadly. “Are you okay?”

Stars, he was going to miss that kid.

“Yeah, I’m okay. Are you both going to be good now or do I need to separate you again?”

This time it was Red who answered. “we’re being good. i even said i was sorry.”

Well, that was something, at least. “Good. I’m going to start dinner.”  Hopefully he’d have enough time to at least enjoy it with the family.

Learning to cook had been an experience Edge would never forget. He loved being able to craft tasty dinners and treats, and having a stocked kitchen like he did here made it easy to decide on something to make. At least, most of the time. Now, as Edge surveyed the cupboards, he couldn’t think of a single thing. Nothing seemed good enough. The kids, and probably Rus, would go for something simple like chili dogs or chicken strips, but if this was going to be the last real dinner Red was going to have for a while, Edge wanted to make it count.

He still hadn’t been able to decide on anything by the time the door opened. Edge closed his eyes and gripped the side of the counter behind him to keep his balance as Blue shrieked in joy and went running down the hall.

“Daddy!” he cried, just like every day when Gaster and Rus got home, and Edge could imagine Gaster scooping him up just like always.

“Hello, there!” Gaster’s voice called out happily. “How are--oh my! What happened to your socket?”

“Red threw a toy at me.”

Edge hurried out to the living room to try to explain.

Gaster looked up at him, concern on his scarred features. “Hello, Edge,” he said calmly.

“It was my fault,” Edge admitted. “I wasn’t watching them as carefully as I should have. I promise you, Red has been punished.” He wouldn’t say that all he’d gotten was time out. He swallowed, suddenly hoping neither Gaster nor Rus would ask.

Red peeked around the corner, and Edge’s soul hurt at the expression on his tiny face. He had hoped and prayed so many times that Red wouldn’t remember what they’d been through before living on the streets, but that expression told him otherwise. Even if he didn’t remember specifics, he knew enough.

“i said i was sorry,” Red said softly, more a confession than a defiant statement.

To Edge’s surprise, Rus went over and kneeled down by Red. “of course you’re sorry, buddy. we don’t mean to hurt our friends, but sometimes we get cranky and it happens, right?”

Red nodded and reached out with both arms, a silent request for a hug. Rus scooped him up and hugged him tightly.

“are you okay?” Rus asked, bouncing Red lightly in his arms.

Red nodded, and the urge to pull him out of Rus’ arms was nearly overwhelming. Edge forced himself to stay where he was.

“And you?” Gaster asked, looking at Edge. “Are you okay?”

Him? “I--”

“He cried for a long time,” Blue said sadly. “But I couldn’t hug him because the door was locked.”

Edge swallowed thickly, his cheekbones heating up.

“Which door was locked?” Gaster asked curiously, an undertone of something perhaps more serious.

“The bathroom,” Blue replied. “He was in the bathroom.”

Tattletale.

Edge sucked in a breath and let it out slowly. He had to clear his throat before he could speak. “They weren’t alone for too long, Sir--I mean, Gaster.”

In truth, Edge had no idea how long they were alone. Probably more than an hour, which was entirely too long.

Gaster bent to put Blue down and then settled a hand on Rus’ shoulder. “Will you take the little ones to play for a moment? I’d like to have a word with Edge.”

Rus must have agreed because he coaxed the kids down the hall with promises of the best blanket fort in the world.

“Edge? Come sit down with me.”

Gaster didn’t touch him, not exactly. He reached out and almost set a hand on his shoulder like he did with his own son, stopping just before making contact. Edge only nodded and went with him to the living room. He knew what was going to happen next, and while he wasn’t prepared, he knew it was inevitable. It had been from the beginning.

They sat on the couch together, Gaster folding his hands in his lap.

“First and foremost, I want to assure you that I understand how you feel. Maybe not exactly, but close enough. I understand that bad days happen, especially when children are cranky. I can tell from Blue’s eyes that he didn’t nap today, and I’d say from what I saw of Red’s face that it was the same with him?”

Edge nodded, his gaze kept firmly on his knees.

“You’ve handled them so well, Edge, that I have no doubts you handled the situation today with care and love.”

That time Edge shook his head. He had to be honest. “No, I didn’t. They were alone in the bedroom and I didn’t even get up to check on them until they started arguing.”

“Why is that a bad thing?” Gaster asked.

Edge looked at him then, a little surprised. “Because I know how Red is. He’s got a temper when he’s well-rested, and today he was not.”

But Gaster smiled. “You’re right, he does have a temper. But that doesn’t mean you have to be there every moment to stop him from lashing out. What he needs is to learn that his actions have consequences and to understand that only he can control his anger.”

“But Blue--”

“Got hurt. Yes, he did, but that’s not your fault either. Not entirely. What I’m saying, Edge, is that I’m not going to kick you out or ask you to leave. Red needs a stable environment to learn how to control his temper, and you need a safe place to help teach him.”

Edge felt the tears begin to form in his sockets and tried to blink them away. He looked at Gaster for a moment before he could ask his next question.

“Why are you being so kind to us?”

Gaster smiled again, soft and comforting. “I know a thing or two about living on the streets, Edge. I never had a little brother to care for, though, and I can’t, in good conscience, let the two of you go back to that life.”

Edge nodded slowly, trying to wrap his mind around this new perspective. He and Red weren’t going to be homeless again. He sucked in a deep breath and let it out slowly.

“I didn’t start dinner,” he finally said.

“Well, that’s a different story then, isn’t it?” Gaster said, a tease in his voice. “I suppose punishment will have to be cooking with me.”

“Oh no,” Edge deadpanned, “please, not that.”

He couldn’t hide a smile in the face of Gaster’s laughter, and together they went to the kitchen to prepare dinner.

[azhefa-archived]

i’m feeling emotional in this chili’s tonight so ima ramble for a second. as much as this show has made me frustrated and i got complaints. i will say i’m grateful for it and for this fandom. a lot of y’all know this already, but i have a super emotional attachment to roan and t100/rpc. i’ve been writing him for roughly four years, and i’ve been in this rpc for longer. writing roan has been extremely therapeutic for me. i used have a hard time accessing my emotions and expressing them, but when i connected to roan as a muse it really helped me during dark times. especially during the year my mom passed away. i really had a difficulty with bottling up emotions but i could come write and access them by connecting to how my muse feels. it gave me a healthy avenue to express myself when i couldn’t quite face my trauma head on. 

the experiences i’ve had here, even the bad ones, really taught me a lot and helped me grow. it gave me a space to explore things through fiction. it helped me come to terms with my sexuality and gave me an outlet as i’ve grown when i didn’t really have any other safe spaces or social connections. because of my chronic illness i don’t have very many offline friends, i’m pretty isolated and if i hadn’t had this community and my friends here i would have been a fucking lot lonelier and worse off. i know it’s cheesy but a lot of times, having this rpc and roan feels like it saved me. it was there when no one else was. y’all were here when no one else was. and it’s why i’ll probably be in this lil silly place until i’m like 50 years old. it’s a home for me and the friends i’ve made here are family. i genuinely mean that. 

so i guess i just wanna say thank you to everyone, whether you were here from day one, or have just joined recently. i’m really grateful for the experiences here and the space it has given me. roan has become a part of me i’ll always have. and i’m so grateful to everyone who gives me the ability to continue to explore his world and connect with him. 

[taetaesbaebaepsae]

it starts with a smile (Part 4)

Part 3

Warnings: it’s soft emo hours in this chili’s tonight, alcohol tw

Word Count: 1505

After your talk with Namjoon, an unknown number calls you around midnight, you don't answer, you're already in bed, but instead of sleeping, you're staring at the ceiling, your heart aching.

In a half hour, you're still not sleeping when your doorbell rings, startling you.

Your heart leaps into your throat.

It's not him, you tell yourself as you cinch your robe and go to the door.

It's not him, he wouldn't come, not even half drunk and horny, not after…

You hesitate before opening the door, and when you finally do, he's been leaning against your door, because he falls in backwards, knocking his head against the tile.

He blinks up at you owlishly. "Ouch."

You can't help but smile at his expression.

He stands up with some effort, stumbling a bit as he shuts your door with his whole body.

"Is he still here?" He asks stiffly, biting at the insides of his cheeks.

You cock your head at him. "C'mon, Joonbug. You know I don't do sleepovers," you say flippantly.

"You let me sleep over," he says, looking almost proud.

You sigh. "I thought you were cutting me off."

"I…" He swallows and sways on his feet a bit. "Fuck, I'm too drunk for this," he finally says, voice thick.

You're surprised into a laugh and he's just looking at you with glassy eyes and this huge dimpled smile and fuck, your chest hurts.

You hate this. You hate this. You've always hated falling in love because you feel too much, you feel too hard and it's always too much. And damn if you weren't blindsided by Kim Namjoon.

"You're so beautiful when you laugh, baby," he mumbles, and his hands come forward as if he wants to touch you but then he shoved them into his pockets, as if to stop himself.

"What are you doing here, Joonbug?" You ask, and you can hear how soft your voice is and it makes you feel weak and stupid.

He just stands there for a moment, throat working, and then he lets out this sigh, as if he's tired, exhausted.

"I can't sleep. I can't sleep no matter how much booze I pour down my throat because I want you so much."

"You could always take a cold shower," you drawl, and he shakes his head, exhaling a short breath from his nostrils.

He takes his hands out of his pockets and runs them through his hair, shaking his head.

"No. No, that's not how I mean. It hurts, how much I want you. My heart hurts." He puts one hand over his chest and you feel your face grow hot and full.

"Don't do this, Joonie. Please, don't do this to me," you warn, voice shaky, and you walk to your bedroom, breathing hard, pacing.

"I don't want to," he calls, following you with heavy steps, as if he can barely pick his feet up. "I know….I know this isn't what you want. I know that I'm not what you want."

He's biting the insides of his cheeks again and the look on his face makes you sit down on the bed and put your face in your hands.

"I'm sorry," he continues, sitting next to you hard, bouncing you a little on the bed. "I'm sorry," he insists, taking your hands from his face. "I didn't mean to. I didn't mean to fall in love with you."

Something too close to a sob catches in your throat and he's clutching at your hands like he's drowning and you can't look at him because you want to believe it so bad it hurts.

But he smells like a brewery and none of this happened until he got territorial over Jungkook and you have learned over and over to protect your heart.

You wrench your hands out of his and stand up to go to your closet, pulling out a blanket and pillow. "You're in no condition to go home. You can crash on the couch."

He just sits there with his head hanging down, shoulders slumped, and you can barely breathe around the lump in your throat.

You go to make up the couch but when you return he's still just sitting there, and when you take his hand he looks up at you with tears streaming down his face.

"What do I do now, baby? What do I do now when I love you but you don't want me?"

"Joonie, you don't love me. You're territorial and you're drunk and-"

You turn, tugging at his hand to try and lead him to the couch but he tugs back, pulling you into his arms, hugging you tight against him, his lips finding the bare skin of your shoulder.

"I am territorial. I am drunk. But I do love you, Y/n. I love you so much I don't know what to do with it."

You know you should struggle, know you should make him sleep on the couch but in his arms is the first time you'd felt like you could breathe easily in weeks.

"Joon, I-"

"You don't have to say it back. I know…" His voice breaks and he takes a deep breath. "I know this isn't what you wanted. But if you could…if you would just let me love you, just tonight…"

You can feel your resolve weakening, feel your lip trembling, and when you turn your head to catch his mouth with your own he lets out this pleased sigh and that's it. That's all the strength you have.

You can't fight it anymore, how his hands on your skin make you feel like a goddess, how his dimpled smile makes your heart leap, and the words that tumble out of your mouth are honest.

"I don't know how to let you love me," you mumble, and he lies you on the bed gently, letting out a shaky breath.

"It's okay. It's okay, baby. I'll show you."

He spreads open your robe and you expect him to touch your breasts, kiss your throat, but instead he tugs off his shirt and drops down on his forearms, cradling your face in his hands.

He's looking down at you, eyes searching your face like you're something fragile and previous, and he kisses your mouth so softly it elicits a whimper from your throat.

"I don't love you because I've been drinking, or because it makes me crazy to think of someone else's hands on you." His voice is low and soft and he's caressing your cheeks with his thumbs and you feel so much you feel like your heart will burst.

He kisses your mouth again, soft, barely parting his lips, before he continues.

"I don't love you because you make my dick hard or even because you're so fucking beautiful it makes my heart ache. I love you because you're you, baby. I love you because you snore a little when you fall asleep on my shoulder while we're watching a movie, and because you always squeeze my hand while we're waiting in line for drinks. I want to see what you look like in the mornings, want you wearing my t-shirts to bed."

"What...what if I let you love me, and then you stop?" You say, voice cracking, and he kisses you again, deeper.

"Oh, baby," he breathes. "Stop loving you? That's not something anyone can do."

He thumbs tears from your cheeks and he's smiling at you but a sob breaks from your chest.

"But they have. They have and I'm scared, Joonie. I can't....I can't let myself love you and then lose you. You already...." You hitch in a breath. "You already left me."

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, baby. I didn't know there was even a chance, and I couldn't..." He huffs out a breath, frustrated. "I couldn't keep loving you and think about you seeing other guys and wondering if you'd fall in love with someone else....it would've killed me." He rolls off you, and you instantly miss his warmth, his closeness, but he puts an arm around you.

"Are you...are you telling me there's a chance?"

He's breathing hard, you can feel his heart pounding when you put your head on his chest.

"You're too smart to be this stupid, Joonbug," you mumble, and you yelp in surprise when he grabs you to roll you on top of him, your nose bumping against his.

"Are you saying you love me?" He's grinning up at you, eyes bright and your heart fills so full it might burst.

"I'm saying of course you have a chance, you big dummy."

He kisses you again, his forehead bumping yours in his hurry and you laugh into his mouth.

You tuck your head into his neck and he strokes your back, his breathing evening out, and you're half asleep before he mutters, "You won't change your mind? You'll be mine now?"

"Only yours, Joon, if that's what you want."

But he's already asleep, hands locked around your lower back.

[veridium]

in my way

alright (x3) okay gamers, guess what? COLLEGE AU UPDATE COMING AT YOU LIVE!

THAT’S RIGHT, HIATUS WHOMST?

I’m thrilled to finally be able to post this sucker. I’m naming it after one of my favorite MUNA songs, and it’s pretty fitting for where we are and where we’re going. Poor Olivia is gonna have some character development in this chili’s tonight. 

Thank you to Isabella @bitchesofostwick for being patient with me as I get my cats wrangled. You’re the MVP. 

fic masterpost / last chapter

--

When the high of the game weekend subsides, two truths remain:

1. Cassandra called her her girlfriend in public, in front of like, two dozen witnesses. Can’t walk that back. 

2). Cassandra has a fucked up ankle. The doctors recommended a boot, not a brace. Olivia knows enough about sports injuries -- particularly in the feet in legs -- to know it won’t be a quick and easy recovery. 

Luckily for Cass, walking boots have become a fashion, and she will only have to be in one for a short time. But that also means she can’t do certain things as easily as she could without it. Though as much of a soldier as they come, by the end of Monday, she’s in a shitty mood when Olivia calls her shortly after getting out of a work at the gym:

“It’s bullshit that they put me in this thing, the sprain wasn’t that bad. I saw the x-rays!”

Olivia tosses her bag in the trunk of her mini and slams the door down, phone tucked between shoulder and ear. “It’s only for a couple of weeks, right? Just rest up and--”

“--already tired of it knocking into things, what the fuck is the--”

“--Cass, er, hold on, let me…”

“I shouldn’t have called, you were at work--”

“No no!” Olivia slides into the driver’s seat, hurriedly trying to set up the bluetooth. She slides the key into the ignition and twists, but she can still hear Cassandra grumbling and ranting, and she’s not even on speaker. When the bluetooth makes her live on the car stereo, she’s thundering so much Olivia has to turn her down several clicks. 

“Babe, hey!” Olivia cuts in. The speaker goes sharply quiet. “Are you home?”

Quiet, and then a curt sigh. “...Yes.”

“Good. Is Cullen there?” Maybe he can talk her off the ledge. But by the sounds of it, though, he isn’t. 

“No,” Cassandra confirms, “he’s out.”

“Got it,” Olivia sighs as silently as she can. “Okay, how about I come over and cook up something, and you can work on that RICE thing they told you to do--”

“Ugh, the amount of times they said that fucking acronym bull--”

“Rest, ice, compression, and elevation! Yes, that bullshit.” She’s rubbing her hands in the lotion stocked in her console. “I can run to the store if you need anything?”

“No, I’m fine.”

“...Cassandra.”

“I’m fine.” Her voice digs into a dreaded monotone. No longer on a rampage, but seething. Olivia can’t pick which is worse. Instead of ragging on her, she puts the car into drive and pulls out of her spot. Just as she’s about to go forward, Cass says something:

“Actually, I have a lot to do tonight. Would you mind if you didn’t come over?”

Olivia stars suspiciously at the stereo, the best proxy she has for her hardass girlfriend. She blurts out a confused sound, her hands falling from the steering wheel down into her lap.

“Uh, are you sure? I mean, are you going to be okay without Cullen around? Is he going to be home soon?”

“I don’t need Cullen around. I’ll be fine. I just have to get homework done.” There’s some background noise of things shuffling, like papers or binders or something. Cassandra wouldn’t be the type to orchestrate a lie like that -- at least, Olivia hopes not.

Unfortunately, no matter what it is, Olivia can’t push her way into her apartment. So, taking hold of the wheel again, she checks to make sure no one else is waiting on her spot.

“I, uh, I’m good with that!” she says, a bit distracted as she drives out toward the parking lot entrance. “Rain check, then?”

“Yeah.”

“...Okay.” She slides to a stop waiting for the 4:30pm rush to pass by. “Let me know if you need anything, alright? I can still stop by and drop off things. I’ll just be doing homework.”

“Thank you, but I should be fine.”

Fine. Fine, fine, fine. Always fine. 

“Okay...um, alright. Well, I’ll talk to you soon, then?”

“Sure.” 

Olivia scrunches her nose, missing a chance to pull onto the road by the sudden spike of frustration. She twists her lips shut and nods, as if Cass can see it.

“Cool. Bye.” She hangs up before Cassandra can do the honors herself. It feels kind of awful, and rests on her shoulders as she drives back to her part of campus. I shouldn’t be so impatient with her, it’s only been a couple days. Maybe she thought it would be too easy: the night of the party was all about celebrating them, and Cassandra was riding the euphoria of victory. Sunday was good, too: she stayed home from Church, a rarity for her, and they stayed home and watched movies. Sure she was tired, and a bit overwhelmed, but she wasn’t angry. 

--

“I don’t get it. I mean, if she’s been an athlete her whole life, shouldn’t she be used to this stuff?”

It’s Tuesday morning and Olivia is trying not to think about the fact that Cassandra didn’t so much as text her for the rest of the night. Perhaps she should have been more explicit when she said “let me know if you need anything,” and said “please don’t shut me out.” 

Josephine, walking beside her, is un-phased. “Cassandra seems to be the type to not let anything get in her way. I’m sure she’s just frustrated she has to consider limitations. That never gets easier, no matter how much you get hurt.”

“Yeah, but…” Olivia takes another long sip while she adjusts her shoulder bag strap. “I don’t know. Maybe I should take a step back.”

“Psh, Olivia,” Josephine gives her a look as they start up some stairs. “She announced you were her girlfriend, what, three days ago? That’s a step!”

“I know it is, but like…okay, I feel like injury care is kind of a step on its own, right? I mean, you wouldn’t just start becoming someone’s bedside physician a week into dating.”

“Is that what’s going on?”

“...Uh, no, but…”

“Then...?”

“I don’t know. I feel like...I mean, if she needed anything, I would be there. I took her to the hospital! I sat there for over an hour and waited for them to let her go. I picked up painkillers. I know enough to know that she’ll need help -- that she needs help. She can’t drive or walk very much, and I know it’s causing her pain. I just want to...you know...I want to make sure she’s taken care of. Is that intrusive? Am I skipping a step here?”

Josephine smiles as she holds the door open for Olivia to walk in first. Once inside, she bumps her shoulder into hers encouragingly. “I think it’s just a matter of getting used to things. Does Cassandra have people in her life she regularly depends on like that?”

“Yes! Totally.”

“I mean, like, ‘can you help me with this task I would otherwise have no problem doing by myself, but now I need special assistance with it, and it requires me to be sort of humble and take up someone else’s time and energy’ kind of way?”

Olivia is about to say yes again, but she stops. Josephine’s knowing stare only compounds her mistaken confidence. 

“Uh. Hm.”

Josephine is sense incarnate, and if she’s not saying to back off, then maybe the problem isn’t Olivia’s over-caring. But the fact remains: they haven’t exactly followed a traditional timeline. And this one is making Olivia confront some odd feelings she did not expect to come up so fiercely. 

As they near the hall outside their classroom, a last-minute topic is brought up. “Oh, I forgot,” Josephine says, finger pointed up in the air. “The festival is coming up. Are you going? You are going, right?”

Oh fuck, the festival. The event that happens right before break. Carnival games, cider, the whole autumnal enchilada. Josephine’s question makes the domino effect kick in: the festival is this weekend, meaning thanksgiving break is next week, meaning exams are less than three weeks from now, which means…

“Uh, Olivia?” Josephine snaps her back into reality with another cool smile. “You look like I asked if you remembered what your last school picture was like!”

Olivia shudders. “Ugh, no, no,” she clarifies, “I’m good. Um, the festival? I thought so, but, with everything that’s been going on I kinda forgot. Are you and Theia going?”

Josephine’s cheery facade subsides, and she holds the books in her arms close to her chest. “Oh. Um, not together, no.”

Suddenly it feels as though they’ve crashed through several floors of drama and into hell’s furnace. What the fuck? 

“Wait, what? Josie, what happ--”

“Shh, sh,” Josie takes hold of Olivia’s forearm and draws nearer. “Nothing, just...just a break. It is alright.”

“Alright?! I--”

“Olivia! Inside voice,” Josephine interrupts.

With as much as she can muster Olivia tries to slow her heartbeat, taking a breath that feels utterly useless. The Kill Bill sirens are sounding off in her head again. Seems like they have become a permanent fixture. 

“We are just taking some time. That is all.”

Olivia’s brow furrows. “Time? Is it because...is it…”

Josephine grins sorely and releases her gentle hold. “There is a lot to it. Too much to chat about before class. You’ve had your own stuff to attend to. I don’t blame you at all!”

Blame. Olivia didn’t think of the word yet, but hearing her say it, it’s pretty damning. Blame would be the way she’d describe how she feels: to blame, more like. If anything else has been going on between them, she has no clue. They were always good at putting on a stunning show of lovers. Now it’s like a “the parents are divorcing” saga all over again. Nevertheless, Olivia swallows her need to know everything all at once.

“Okay. We’ll talk about it, though, right? Soon?”

“Yes, sure,” Josephine says, “I just have a lot to do this week, and then break, and…”

“I get it, no, it’s fine.” Olivia says her least favorite word. “Whenever you can and want to. I’m here!”

They conclude their counseling of each other’s issues -- or, more like Olivia’s, ft. a mention of Josephine’s -- and head to class. Strangely enough it is like a vacation getting to think about anything except what she’s currently overthinking. As soon as the 55 minutes of class are up she goes right back to spinning, except now it has the added ingredients of whatever the fuck is going on with Theia and Josie. 

She checks her phone. No new messages from Theia since their reunion special at the pizza shop. 

Olivia: Hey, Theia. I was talking to Josie. Are you okay?

She sends it, but receives nothing back. At least not for the rest of the afternoon before she texts Cassandra, who is also stonewalling her: 

Olivia: Hey! You feeling better today?

Thankfully, within ten minutes, a response: 

Cassandra: Not really. I went home early and moved my office hours to Thursday. How are you?

Olivia: Oh, ok. I’m glad you’re resting. I’m doing good, just got out of classes for the day. 

Cassandra: Anything interesting?

Olivia: That Chad guy brought up Lenin again. Didn’t think he could do it, but he did! Lol :)

Cassandra stops responding, and after 30 minutes Olivia has arrived back at her dorm. She hops onto her bed and sees nothing, no typing ellipses. Feeling the sinking gut reaction again, she pries a little:

Olivia: Anyway, I know it’s only been a day, but are you up for company? 

Five minutes later, a quick and surprising reply: 

Cassandra: I would, but Leliana is here, actually. Filling me in on what I missed on Sunday. 

Olivia’s turns off her screen and tosses the phone across her bed. What, did a new Apostle get named? Apostle Jerry, or something? Fuck Apostle Jerry. She doesn’t respond; instead she’s disturbed by how much she cares, and how protective she’s being. Leliana is not her favorite person in the world, but she’s no villain. What the hell is going on with emotions this week?

Another half hour goes by of her trying to reign herself in. Her mind says “calm the fuck down, it’s nothing, it’s been a couple of days,” and her heart says, well, a number of inappropriate expletives. 

“Knock, knock,” says an infamous voice from behind the door. 

Olivia groans. 

“Good, you’re here,” Ellinor chuckles as she lets herself in. Dressed in jeans and no shirt, but a nice flannel that compliments her sports bra. She, too, must be trying to unwind from the day.

“Yep, here,” Olivia gripes, falling onto her back on the comforter. “Always here, just at the ready, willing to report for duty!”

By the sounds of it, Ellinor is chomping on something. Maybe a granola bar, or a handful of men’s hopes. “What’s gotten into you?”

“Nothing. Just...just a long day.”

“I totally believe that. Anyway,” Ellinor takes another bite of whatever it is, and remains standing in the center of the room. “You want to go get something to eat? I’m out of ramen an--”

“Yes. Yes, 100% yes,” Olivia jumps up and heads for her closet, zooming past without so much as a hey, hi, hello. “Let’s go. Sushi? Sushi.”

“Hey, woah, there, woman,”

Olivia’s sliding on a pullover sweater, shimmying her cares away, before she hears Ellinor protest again: “Liv! Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Y-yeah! Fuck yeah,” Olivia laughs nervously, pulling her hair up into a bun using a hairtye on her wrist. “I’m so good. You set to go?”

They stare at each other, Olivia’s semi-heavy breathing the only noise. Ellinor, is holding a granola bar wrapper in one hand, the last piece of it in the other.

“Uh, well, seeing as how I don’t have a shirt on,” she says warily, “I would have to have a minute to prepare…”

Olivia, bounding up onto her toes, is not one to criticize. “Sure! Yeah, no, take your time. I mean, it’s just a shirt, it shouldn’t take too long, right?”

“....No….” Ellinor’s side-eyeing intensifies. “Luckily, I just...did laundry…”

“Cool! That’s awesome, congratu--”

“Okay Olivia, what the hell? Did you shotgun three red bulls in a row, or are you hiding something?”

“I...I did not shoot a...yuck!” She groans in displeasure. “No, I’m just...just ready to get off campus. Midterms have been a nightmare.”

“Yeah, for you? Sure.” Ellinor rolls her eyes, dragging her feet as she makes for the door. “Whatever it is, I’m sure I’ll hear about it in between the first and second roll…”

“...Wait, roll…?”

“Of sushi!” Ellinor says from the hall, a bit outraged. “How would I ever mean anything else besides sushi?!”

Relieved to no longer have her best and dearest friend who has x-ray vision into her mania, Olivia takes a deep exhale to herself and begins assembling her items: wallet, keys, and so on. Her phone is the last one she looks for, and indeed the last one she wants to have contact with now. When she grabs it, she checks the screen: no new messages from either of her problematic women. At this point, she’s almost glad. 

She pulls up Cassandra’s thread and begins typing:

Oh, that’s nice of her! On second thought, I forgot I had dinner plans tonight, so nevermind. 

Just as she is about to hit send, she bites her lip and stalls. Yesterday she got on herself for being too impatient with Cassandra and her wants and needs. Or, lack thereof. Maybe it’s fine to just leave well enough alone, since she obviously isn’t caring too much about what Olivia has to say. 

“Hey, ready?” she hears Ellinor from the hall, making the whole deliberation on a time crunch. 

Olivia erases the message, choosing silence as the best reply. If Cassandra has a problem with that, she can very-well rectify it. She slides the phone into her back pocket and leaves her dorm for the night. 

“Where do you want to go?” she asks Ellinor as they get outside, starting for the parking lot.

“Let’s go to that place on the corner by Parsons’ street,” Ellinor says whilst typing on her own phone. “The one with the big boat thing in the front lobby?”

“We never go there,” Olivia says curiously, “why start now?”

“Because Cullen and I have ordered too much from our usual spot and now the guy on the phone knows I’ve taken a lover because of how different my order is now.”

“Got it. Too bad Cullen doesn’t like my kind of sushi,” Olivia bemoans in a teasing way. She sees her beloved mini down the aisle of cars and hits the unlock button. 

“Yeah, well, it’s hard to say it’s you when I have to explicitly ask how spicy the spicy tuna is and if they can put all the wasabi in my box, just in case,” Ellinor says it with a giggle, but it’s a damning detail about Cullen’s beloved taste buds.

“He makes you ask?” Olivia laughs.

“No, I just do it anyway. I think he’s trying to prove to me he can handle spicy foods, he’s been asking to taste my plate. Then he starts sweating and turning red, and I ask if he wants anything to drink, and he tries to laugh it off.” They both get into the car, and Ellinor reaches for her seat belt. “It’s...tragically cute.”

“Yeah, sounds like it,” Olivia grins and shuts her door. After her own seat belt is secure she turns on the car and lets it warm up. Her phone gets tossed into the center console without so much as a second thought or concern. This attracts Ellinor’s attention rather fast. 

“How’s Cass the Boot--”

“Ellinor,” Olivia glances.

“Okay, okay, fine. How is she, though?”

“She’s fine.”

Olivia once again is putting her car into gear for the second time in 24 hours all the while pretending she isn’t bothered by something definitely bothersome. While she reverses, Ellinor proves that bluetooth communication is the better method for saving face, and continues her questioning. 

“Fine? That’s all? I thought…”

“She’s resting up at home. Not much to say, it’s only been a few days since the game.”

After a delay, Ellinor settles back into her seat. “Okay. I see.”

Once they’re on the road, and music gets put on, it’s far less difficult to breathe. If Olivia can just get over it and not treat every day like a make-it-or-break-it moment, she will be fine. Cassandra is just frustrated with herself and tired. She’ll be okay. It’s not the end of the world. It’s not her job. 

Just as they’re hitting downtown, Ellinor tries again to strike up conversation: “Cullen’s excited about the fall festival, apparently he and the guys get super competitive about the games.”

“Really? That’s unsurprising,” Olivia smirks. 

“Yeah, something tells me I’m going to hit the jackpot with stuffed animals won in my honor. Are you excited?”

“M-me? Yeah. Totally. I’ve been looking forward to it for the last couple weeks.”

“Me, too.”

Another few minutes of no talking. The conversation was dead on arrival. Olivia can’t help but think about going, or not going, or going and being alone. What would be worse, going somewhere with Cassandra being grumpy, or going alone and watching all the couples have fun? It felt rather anticlimactic. She wanted to share it with the woman she’s got it bad for. 

“It’s up a few more blocks, right?” she asks.

“Uh, yeah,” Ellinor checks the directions on her phone briefly. 

“Cool.”

“You sure everything’s okay?”

Olivia grips the wheel harder, and fortunately the light in front of her finally turns green. “Yes, just on edge with midterms.”

“...that is the thing, though, exams never phase you.”

“Yeah, well.”

Ellinor gives a “mhm” sound and goes back to scrolling through her phone. Olivia knows better than to think her ignorant. But what else can she do when she herself doesn’t understand why she’s so nervous and upset? Why, if Cassandra texted her in this moment asking for her help and presence, she’d flip a U-turn and tell sushi to go fuck itself? Relationships have steps. There are steps for a reason. 

This isn’t Cassandra’s fault, Olivia tells herself. Over and over, but she barely believes it. This is a me thing. It has to be. 

As she gets out of the car in the parking lot outside the restaurant, Olivia finds herself holding tight to her bundle of keys. Tight onto something in particular: a keychain, one of only two on the ring. As they approach she takes a look at it in her hand: an old baseball keychain, so old the white on the ball has worn off. What’s more worn down are the letters that read “World’s No. 1 Daughter” on the back. 

“Hey, ready?” Ellinor asks, holding onto the door but not opening it yet. She sounds sweeter, now, like she noticed and understands. Ellinor always understands. 

Olivia shakes her head, smiling as she puts her keys in her sweater pocket. “Yeah! I’m starving, holy shit.”

Nothing pairs with sushi quite like anxiety.