#for i love them all for very different reasons

[smoky-impressions]

when people continually mistreat you for how you are unmasking, when you assert your needs and boundaries, stop doing things that harm you to please others, grow as a person, go to therapy or do the necessary work to unlearn maladaptive behaviours (not all people can afford / find appropriate and affordable therapy), it is not you who is wrong. of course, you will make mistakes--it's only a lifetime of living behind a mask to undo (/s). you may be too blunt in assertion of needs, or you may become very anxious over changes in the routines of one area of your functioning, resulting in rigidity in another; you may become very, very tired while doing all this work and have much less patience or energy to deal with what others perceive to be minor events / inconveniences, or you may even deal with them poorly as you extend past your limit. people will probably be understandably upset or put-off for a bit, but with those who care about and support you, some time and an apology* should be all that is needed for repair and reconciliation. but if the mistreatment is a pattern and nothing you are doing is changing it, then it is on them. you can make suggestions and offer feedback for how they can help you through this difficult time, but if those asks continually fall on unwilling ears, they are likely not going to change for you (barring their own willingness to go to therapy / do the work).

the expression "stop going to the hardware store for milk" comes to mind. if you are waiting for Rona to stock your favourite 2%, you will deprive yourself waiting for the impossible. maybe that location used to be a grocery store, but they have changed, as are you and your needs. maybe you did not know you needed milk, you grew up without it in the home. that does not change the fact that if you walk into that building and ask for milk, you will be turned around, no matter how much money you have, how many aisles you search, how many trips back to the same store you make, no matter how kindly or desperately you ask. repeating this pattern, you will only deny yourself real love, opportunities for growth and encountering more supportive people, and true understanding of yourself while waiting for the person who is the hardware store in your life to meet you even part way.

while unmasking, you can find out who you are, where your limits lie and where other people had been limiting you with their faulty assumptions and beliefs they hold about you. what do you ACTUALLY like? what makes you look forward to stepping out of the house? not the pre-approved list of things you masked discomfort while doing to please your family members, people you called friends, relationship partners, or work colleagues, but things you would do without them present and without fear or shame holding you back (it can be hard to imagine when you have lived with fear and shame for so long). what do you dislike? where are the 'shoulds' in your life? what activities might you stop to conserve spoons for the things you are truly enjoying?

unmasking is not easy, even with a therapist to help you. expect it to be a long-term project; it is no easy thing to "rewire" neural pathways that have been reinforced for many years out of fear and necessity, especially if the masked behaviours kept you or are keeping you safe. you might have to choose who it is safe to unmask around and you might find out the hard way who does not fit in that category. it is worth it to find those people, i still believe that despite everything. i hope everyone who reads this finds safe people and places from which to procure their emotional "milk".

* an apology should: demonstrate that you understand the harm that your action caused, perhaps a reason for your actions that does not blame the other person nor attempts to absolve you of the wrongdoing, that you regret it, and that you have a genuine willingness and plan to do something differently next time (and that you are open to suggestions of what you can do differently)

My doctor and therapist: now with this autism + ADHD diagnosis you need to learn to unmask because masking all the time will make you burn out again and feel like shit

Other people: well it's just interesting how after getting the diagnosis you suddenly start behaving like that I mean I'm not saying you're faking it's just funny how you suddenly cannot be normal like you were before

[captainmera]

completely random question, but what are evelyn’s sisters like? e.g. their relationship to evelyn, possible dynamic with caleb, personalities, etc…

i really enjoy the way you flesh out evelyn and caleb, giving them backstories and families of their own. they’re all so compelling!

THE CLAWTHORNE SISTERS:

Wendy is conflicted between resentment and love. While Evelyn has always looked up to Wendy and admired her.

Bronwen moved out when Evelyn was still little, and with Ev having trouble getting friends, she was often shoehorned into hanging out with Wendy. Which Wendy hated. Wendy sought refuge with friends outside the home, and always being told to bring Evelyn only fuelled the annoyance.

Evelyn has always been an easy target for both bullying and being taken advantaged of. And Wendy has always stood up for her, and also shoved her out of her room.

Bronwen is a mediator between the sisters. When she was recently moved out (with then boyfriend, now husband) she was still visiting a lot to look after her sister's wellbeing.

Their mother plays favourite with Evelyn, which neglects the sisters in different ways.

- Evelyn gets put under too much pressure and can't say no, and thinks her purpose in life is to always be helpful: even at the loss of herself.

- Wendy gets put at the wayside, treated as Evelyn's chaperone and not somebody who has her own life or schedule. She's often told that "for the family" she has to drop everything, for Evelyn. She wouldn't hate doing it, if it wasn't forced.

- Bronwen and her parents never saw eye-to-eye. She has always been a rebel that questioned the way they did things. If she didn't want to do it like that, she wouldn't! And it was the cause of many fights. Bronwen rejected the pressures of becoming "important" early on.

Unfortunately, her fighting spirit only made Wendy not want to fight. She didn't like all the arguing, and instead opted to be compliant. Which only gave her a lack of autonomy in the end. While Evelyn never learned to choose herself at all.

Bronwen has a bunch of kids that becomes the founding seeds of the Clawthorne clan (alongside Evelyn & Caleb's kid, but they're a different branch of the clan.)

CALEB:

At first, the Clawthornes thought Caleb was a magic-less witch by the name Jasper Bloodwilliams. He was wearing a hat that covered his ears when he first visited the realm.

He made up the cover story on a whim that he and Evelyn bumped into each other as researchers in the human realm. That he, too, was interested in humans because (as Evelyn's reason also were) "Humans don't have magic and get by just fine!"

Wendy has never met another half-witch before, and is both happy and a little upset that this is Evelyn's friend. (she's a lesbian guys, don't worry, no triangle drama here.)

Once she finds out he's a human, though, she's upset at Evelyn. She thinks the reason Evelyn "researches magic-less solution" is because she's trying to find a consolation price for Wendy.

Caleb mends the bridge between the sisters by telling Wendy about what Evelyn has been up to in the human-realm. They have a heart-to-heart, bonding over being older siblings who have to give something up for the younger ones.

Bronwen and Caleb have a meaningful conversation about moving away from people you love. Choosing himself, choosing to let go of the past, that sort of thing.

Caleb, via the Clawthorne's, grows increasingly more self-aware of his situation with Philip and how it's not a very healthy one. Mainly on his part. And tries to figure out what he can do.

[pincushionx]

Blood warning!

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I see lots of fanfics that talk about the Grimwalker stories and myths as Grimwalkers being these predators that hunt witches and are these monster that feed off of flesh, but all of these are usually false and like I said just myths.

So what if that wasn’t the case? What if Grimwalkers were the flesh craving beasts everyone thinks they are. Aka me giving Hunter the Tokyo Ghoul treatment (kinda)

This image takes place during Thanks to Them, he’s hunting and consuming animals to sustain himself but they can only do so much. He keeps it a secret because he’s ashamed, scared and full of self loathing. Unfortunately you can only sneak out and wash your clothes so frequently until you get caught.

…

The craving flesh started around the time Hunter started hitting his second stage of puberty, so around 12 to 13 years old. It started off as spouts of aggression, weight loss and odd carvings that he suppressed until he eventually snapped and attacked a scout. Once he consumed flesh, there was no going back.

This happened with a few Grimwalkers, typically one made around pubescent years due to this being a natural development. Grimwalkers who are made as adults don’t get this since get miss that developmental period. A reason why Belos made Grimwalkers strictly adults for hundreds of years before trying out a new experiment.

When Belos made Hunter, he was aware of this and rather than kill Hunter off or just make an adult Grimwalker, he decided he can benefit from a “monster” needing a source of food.

Hence, Hunter picking up a reputation for being “feral.” Belos supplies Hunter with blood and flesh but not enough to satisfy him, just the minimum to keep him alive. This is to keep Hunter at a state where he’s willing to do more work to earn more food but unfortunately this just results in cases of Hunter going “too far” aka mauling different beings (witches, beasts, demons, ect) during missions on the accounts he’s literally starving and being triggered in fights.

He can eat normal food but his sense of taste is bit dull and doesn’t give him the nutrition he needs. He can eat and eat and it will do nothing. He learns to satisfy himself through eating animals he hunts during missions. When he gets to the human realm he eats his food with an overwhelming amount of seasoning just to taste it.

He also has a very strong jaw and sharp teeth, like hyena type stuff.

(Imagine a scenario he pauses a mission mid way to go hunt some voles and eat them raw and the scouts just standing there like-)

After Hollow mind Hunter struggles because now he’s has little source of witch or demon flesh (he raids the healing classes for blood and kitchen for uncooked meat)

So during thanks to them he’s forced to live with three witches, a basilisk, two humans who are somewhat similar to witches and oh boy he struggles. His friends are concerned. Camila notices Hunter eats a lot but still looks like he isn’t gaining weight, Gus notices that he sneaks out, Vee smells something wrong with him, Luz sees how on edge he is, Amity catches on to his burst of aggression (caused by hunger and stress) and Willow notices he avoids them.

They all already knows something is off with him (heightened senses, unusual teeth and jaw strength, glowing eyes, unusually tight and powerful muscles despite how gaunt he is) but only Luz knows he’s a grimwalker but hasn’t quite put the peices that’s he’s a unnatural, natural predator to witches and demons. The witches, Vee and even the humans feel a slight primal fear around Hunter but they can’t quite put the reason why, he puts them on edge even if they love him but something’s off.

Despite the fact that all of them are willing to give him blood, even some flesh if they could, the boy just refuses, since he sees himself as a literal monster that needs to be locked up.

This is me giving Hunter Grimwalker trauma x100. Anywho this is my late Halloween post aka my billionth AU idea. This was inspired by Tokyo Ghoul, Ginger snaps(2000) and the fic [redacted] Hunter by ApaMonkey on ao3! Yall should read it!

I have a weakness for flesh craving characters who aren’t villains but they aren’t so common so of course I had to project that love to my own skrunkly!

[moonlightwonu]

최한솔 // Chwe Hansol [Vernon] Fic Recsᡣ𐭩

I love you, cause I 포기할 수 없는 Only you 너라서 yeah~

Main Recs Masterlist

MINORS DNI!!!!!!!

Please like and reblog the fics to show the creators love and support~

“The Soulmate Service” by @dkfile

Gn!reader || Soulmate au, fluff, angst, pining || W.C: 31k

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･the soulmate service has one purpose: to help those who drew the short end of the stick and ended up without a person to live their forever with. after the heart wrenching realization that the boy you��ve loved since you were thirteen isn’t the one meant for you, you put your love life in the hands of vernon chwe — which, now that you think about it, is probably a very bad idea.

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“Closer, Faster" by @saythenametotheworld

Fem!reader || Strangers to lovers, catching feelings, smut || Parts: 2 || Total W.C: 40.7k

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･For good reason, you have forbidden yourself to get emotionally attached to temporary people until Vernon comes walking in and wrecks you to your very core.

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“Filmbro-zoned” by @amourcheol

Fem!reader || college au, fluff, comedy, suggestive, ex!mingyu || W.C: 21.7k

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･self-proclaimed movie mastermind chwe vernon minds his business—whether that be avoiding the popular, problematic kids in his college to reducing customer interest in his parents' film store. his plan of isolation, however, is completely destroyed when you, a seemingly insane disney fan, slam his perfect movie taste and ask for his help to take down an evil ex.

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“What's Your Favorite Scary Movie?” by @onlymingyus

Fem!reader || 90s au, horror, smut, toxic, yandere!vernon || W.C: 30k

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ The summer after graduating high school is supposed to be one last hurrah before you and your friends head off to college---none of you expected it to become a horror movie.

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“Vice;Grip” by @daechwitatamic

[Series] || Afab!reader || Fuck buddies, angst, smut, fluff || Parts: 5 || Total W.C: 32k || Status: Completed

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･You both knew why you were there. You both knew what you needed out of it: just sex, just fun. The just of it failed to last. You know precisely the first time it was different, the first time it wasn’t for fun. You needed the same things as always: his mouth hot on your skin, his hands roaming, the feeling of him emptying your mind and pushing every bad feeling out like there wasn’t room for them anymore. But for the first time, you didn’t want those things for enjoyment. You wanted them as a salve. Make it not hurt, you could have asked him. Or, at least, make it hurt in a way I choose. 

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“Love Between The Lines” by @etherealyoungk

Gn!reader || TA!au, Strangers to lovers, calm x chaotic dynamic, fluff || W.C: 12k

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･despite the initial nerves of your new gig as an english literature TA, you’re ready to tackle the new job. that’s where you meet vernon, the computer science TA, and he’s interesting to say the least. he’s all about coding and numbers while you live and breathe poetry and novels. it’s clear that you both have contrasting interests and personalities - but they say opposites attract, right?

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“By Hook or By Cross” by @kabira

Fem!reader || meet-ugly au, strangers to lovers, slowburn, fluff, angst, smut || W.C: 12.4k

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･so you punched a guy, and now he wants you to teach him how to fight, because clearly, you know how to do it better. well, fine, you say. as long as he keeps his distance. (spoiler alert: he doesn’t.)

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“Do You Dream of Me?" by @miraclewoozi

Gn!reader || Soulmate au, friends to lovers, fluff, angst, pining, suggestive || W.C: 9.6k

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･the first time you kiss your soulmate, you’ll open your eyes to a world of colour. the problem? vernon hates the thought that he might pull away from you and still see in monochrome.  or, five times he wanted to plant one on you, and the one time you beat him to it. 

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“Say You Love Me (I Love You)” by @viastro

Gn!reader || Best friends to lovers, slowburn, fluff, humor || W.C: 5.8k

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･three heavy words. you’re so used to saying this to the one person that’s always been by your side, because you know that he’s your other half; platonically. these words have always held some sort of meaning whenever you say it to vernon, in hopes that maybe one day he’ll say it back to you.

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“Work Husband” by @wondernus

Gn!reader || Teacher au, fluff, romance, comedy, mutual pining || W.C: 8.8k

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･falling for the young and flirty high school history teacher is inevitable especially when he pays for your groceries and calls himself your work husband

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“Pretty Lies” by @lonelywhalien22

Afab!reader || Band au, enemies to lovers, slowburn, smut, angsty fluff || Parts: 9 || Status: Completed

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･supporting your friend mingyu becomes way more than you ever could have bargained for when you become involved with one of his bandmates

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“Lost in Stereo” by @hannieehaee

Afab!reader || Band au, friends to enemies to lovers, pining, smut || W.C: 8.8k

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･after kicking you out of your own band to seek success with the band on his own, vernon finds his plans falling through, all the while you'd reached success on your own. now leading your own label, vernon finds himself having to earn your forgiveness, not realizing how badly he'd hurt you years back.

Please let me know if the links have any problems~

[crazyvik97rpg]

William was the biggest sweetheart, his biggest supporter - Sebastian had so many worries, so many fears and anxiety and William always listened and took it seriously. Just like right now - he listened to it all and presented him logical reasons why he didn't need to assume the worst, that there were good news too and that it was very likely this would be all over in a year, that he would fully recover.

Sebastian needed to hear that or else he would just spiral more - he looked at his beloved as William kissed his worries away, so to speak, and reassured him in this soft, gentle voice. They held each other in their arms and it was simply the best right now - way better than being alone with his thoughts.

It wasn't like Sebastian ever doubted William's love for him - and his actions of course spoke louder than words - hearing them once again, however, just felt different. Reassured him even more that William would be always there for him during this difficult time. It almost made Sebastian tear up when William spoke that many things would change - however, his love for him wouldn't.

"...Awe dove...you're so cheesy...", Sebastian smiled through sad eyes, truly touched, and he gently pulled him closer and pressed a kiss to his lips, "...Without you, I could have never made it this far. Honestly", he sighed and pulled him closer, squeezed him in his arms, "I'm so lucky. To have you. Lucky in so many aspects. I love you so much, my love. So much".

For I have sinned...

The principal cleared his throat, eyes scanning the notes that he had wrote down before this meeting. It already lasted an hour, and the teachers gathered in the faculty room were becoming restless and bored. But indeed there were some things to discuss, with the concert that the senior class was supposed to perform at the end of the semester, and with recent staff changes. 

William glanced down at his watch, sighing softly. His class was starting in 15 minutes, so at least, whether the meeting will be done soon or not, he will get to excuse himself. He looked out of the window, his mind wandering. Principal’s voice turned into white noise in the background. It was a pleasant day, late summer. But William was looking forward to a slightly cooler weather. Wearing all black could really be bothersome at times. 

“And lastly, I am pleased to announce that we have finally found replacement for the violin teacher. Dear Mr Tanaka, may he rest in peace, was with us for so many years that I’ve been concerned we won’t be able to find someone as good as to fill this position.” the principal spoke. “But Mr… Michaelis, was highly recommended to me, and he indeed has impressive references. He will be starting this week, so please welcome him warmly once he will arrive. Ah yes… about that. He will arrive today at noon, I need someone to pick him up from the train station and bring over for the tour around the school. Any volunteers?” 

William was barely listening, and definitely not paying much attention. He glanced at his watch again, and saw that it was time to leave, as his class was about to start. He raised his hand to excuse himself, and little did he know, he just volunteered.

“Father William! Excellent!” the principal exclaimed. “Just don’t be late, the train arrives at noon.”

“Train…?” William questioned, raising his brow. He had a feeling he was missing something…

***

Right after the meeting, William had to run for the class, so he had little time to clarify what exactly he had volunteered for. He was a piano teacher in this Music Academy, but also he served as a priest in local church. Well respected, and rather liked. So when he later found out it was about the new violin teacher, he didn’t refuse. Who, other than himself, would be a better choice to introduce a newcome to their community?

So even though he raised his hand by accident, he accepted this fate.

After classes, at noon, William took a taxi and drove to the train station, to pick up their new teacher. Wearing black trousers, and a black shirt with a thin tie, was absolutely dreadful in this weather, so William quickly found shelter under the roof of the station platform, that provided some shade.

The train had just arrived. William had no idea how Mr Michaelis looked like, but he figured he will just look for someone carrying a violin case with them. 

He was in for a bit surprise.

@crazyvik97

[angelwithdemonictendencies]

know me the way you know your childhood scars, like breathing; i wasn’t running but if i was i’m glad it was to you.

tz11 x reader: a small town, a fresh start, a shared heart.

(warnings: blasphemous filth, unprotected penetrative sex (m on f), hair pulling, thigh-riding (this is newish), dirty talk (if you're new, welcome!), mentions of previous relationship being awful, i know i'm forgetting stuff but all my typical things. (please be warned, don’t read if you’re not 100% sure.)

(a/n: here we go again! i feel the way taylor must when she rereleases music. i love love love this one, i'm happy and grateful to share it with you, again. every now and then i think of the dibs/butterscotch part and i get all fuzzy inside. the matt boldy subplot is still my favorite. let's all pretend, when we read this, that the mullet is not a thing. also, if i posted little snippets of new stuff i've been working on (none of it is x reader, but all of it is hockey inspired), would anyone read it? let me know. i love you and your snakes. be good to yourself).

this was probably a terrible idea, you thought, with your suitcases beside you, your head in your hands at the foot of the bed that would be yours for the foreseeable future. one bed of several at a local inn - local to this town, at least, not local to you.

no, you thought, jittery with unknowing and chance and uncertainty, none of this was familiar to you. not this town in the middle of nowhere, hundreds and hundreds of miles from your hometown, your university. not any of the few people you had interacted with, not the uber driver, the inn keeper, the housekeeping staff.

not one part of this place, this experience, not one part was familiar. but that's what you'd wanted, wasn't it? that was the whole point?

you'd wanted to find yourself, wanted to prove that you could take care of yourself, exist on your own, thrive outside of the bubble that was university.

you wanted a fresh start, away from ex-boyfriend and ex-best friend, their betrayal still fresh, a wound scabbing over on your heart. you wanted to breathe deeply and not worry about who was watching you exhale - a place where nobody knew you, where nobody could whisper about the girl whose boyfriend was cheating on her with her best friend. for three years. she's so stupid, how could she not have noticed?

well, here, you decided, that's what you would get. a humble job as a diner waitress lined up to start tomorrow, a booked room with no check-out date, not a laugh you'd recognize for miles and miles.

this is what you'd wanted, you told yourself, now, loneliness settling in your mouth the way the powder on sour candy does. this is what you have.

completely exhausted from travel and emotional havoc, you passed out that night amidst dreams of fresh starts and trees too tall to see you behind them.

such a lovely image did not last nearly an hour into the next morning, the first day of your new job, just a block or so from the inn you were staying at.

this was part of the reason you had chosen this place for your self-discovery journey, after all - the urgent hiring, competitive wage, amazingly low price for room and board.

you had worked in your university's coffee shop for a year or two to help pay your tuition, so, honestly, how different could it be?

very different, you realized, almost immediately. they were hiring urgently for a reason, which meant there was practically nobody there to train you. one of the line cooks, of all people, just threw you an apron and a name tag to wear over your uniform-compliant black skirt and shirt, mumbled something about a welcome, enunciated something louder about table three needing service.

and so your self-proclaimed new life began completely unceremoniously, with a name-tag that misspelled your name, the smell of waffles and western omelets permeating the air like some grandmother's perfume in an old living room.

at the very least, the business made the time pass quickly, as you paced from table to table, only pausing briefly to introduce yourself to the line, the host, the several curious patrons who asked about you.

"new girl," some impossibly old man husked, "they not have hot coffee where you're from?" he grimaced as he took another sip. "cold as a winter's -"

"okay, that's enough," his companion said, a woman, probably in her mid-twenties, with blonde hair chopped short. she gave you a sympathetic look, like you two were sharing some inside joke. you liked her immediately. "he's had about twelve cups already. don't mind him."

you felt your mouth tick up in a smile for what might have been the first time this morning as you introduced yourself to her, and her father, who you learned everyone affectionately called "old man peters." you learned that the young woman's name was bridget, and she insisted on giving you her number, in case you had any questions, or wanted to get together, or needed anything at all.

your day was already looking up, you thought, as you lifted your sulking ponytail from you back, loose strands curling at the nape of your neck, around your ears. bridget and old man peters bid you goodbye, and then the young host, a boy who stuttered so much over his name that you still didn't quite know what it was, sheepishly alerted you that he had seated a group at the booth in your section.

your flipped to a new page in your notepad as you walked back to the booth, your gaze quickly being tugged up by a drawl-ish voice blurting out "dibs! i call dibs!"

such as exclamation was followed by several groans and one "not fair, you're the only one facing the door."

your brow was slightly scrunched in confusion when you stood at the head of the group's table, four pairs of eyes faced to you in a way that made you feel like a politician about to give a speech.

you cleared your throat, not quite looking anyone in the face. "good morning," you said, "can i get you guys started with some drinks?"

you looked up from your notepad, clicking your pen against the surface of it, taking in the table of - well, you weren't really sure. construction workers, maybe? craftsmen? the four of them had on heavy canvas-like jackets, worn and worked in, highlighter-bright shirts underneath, callused hands that your observant eyes took note of immediately. they were young, too, probably about your age, which made you blush, only a little. these were not the kind of guys you had met in college, the kind who you would have taken a class on freud with, the kind who thought everything with a woman's hand around it was a phallic symbol.

"just coffee," one of them said, short. he tacked on a please when one of his friends smacked him lightly on the back of the head.

you motioned with your pen around the whole table. "for everyone?" you asked, but the question stumbled out of your mouth when your eyes caught on the last of the four, the one on the bench on the right, closest to you.

that sharp face, high cheekbones and cut jaw, should have been so serious, you thought, like some kind of statue, the kind your art history friends would have fawned over in a museum you didn't really want to go to. he should have been so serious, angular like that, but he was anything but. mirth danced in his eyes, so bright they almost sparkled. his full mouth was fixed in a sort of perpetual smirk, so ready to laugh that he was already halfway there. he had the lines around his eyes that told you his full smile would tear you in two.

you were probably staring at him, you realized, flushing deeper as his smirk broke free into something wider, all over his face.

"see, guys," he spoke, that goofy drawl you had noticed on your way over, nothing like the pretentious academics who spoke in circles. he leaned back in the booth. "doesn't matter that i called dibs. she likes me best anyways."

your face scrunched up in some combination of disbelief and hidden delight. "wait," you began, "when i was walking over here, when you said something about dibs," you fixed him with what you hoped was a glare, "you were calling dibs on me?"

he shrugged off his jacket, drawing attention to his wide shoulders, arms thick even through his bright long sleeve. you snapped your gaze back to his eyes, which shimmered, telling you that you'd been caught. "what's the big deal?"

you scoffed, blew a stray curl from your eye line. "you don't call dibs on people," you said.

"yeah, trevor," one of his friends teased, "what's wrong with you?"

"where to begin?" one of the others said, almost lost in thought.

"c'mon, sugar," trevor said, tilting his head, "'s a compliment, yeah?" his gaze rolled down your frame, almost gelatinous, meeting your eyes again reluctantly. "only 'cause you're so pretty, hm?"

you rolled your eyes, fixed your gaze on the one across from him, the one who looked the least engaged. "but, trevor," you whined, stretching out his name like salt-water taffy, "what if i wanted-" you paused, looked down at the blonde just below you.

"matt," he said, practically bored. you nodded your thanks.

"what if i wanted matt?"

his posture grew even more relaxed as he shifted his knees wider under the table. "oh, what if, sugar?" he mused, his eyes so expressive, never off of you for a moment.

"she's gonna spit in your coffee," matt said.

"how about we cut out the middle man and she just spits in my mouth?" he chirped, smirk so telling it made you flush pink.

you mumbled something about decorum before walking away in a flurry of annoyance and excitement. you couldn't really tell the difference, you realized, as you gave the poor host a pot of coffee and asked him kindly to drop it off at the back booth.

you were not something to be called dibs on, that was for sure, and you were here to find yourself, not anyone else, certainly not some guy. even if some guy had soft-looking hair and a witty mouth. even then.

you took a stabilizing breath and got back to work, noting that the back booth only got coffee, only stayed for about twenty minutes before making to leave, heavy jackets loud as they shrugged them back on.

three of the guys called out their thanks and headed out, leaving only a standing trevor there when you approached to settle their bill. thumbing through his wallet, he grinned down at you when you finally stood in front of him again.

he was taller than you thought, you realized, as he now stood at full height. you had to crane your neck slightly to look him fully in the face.

"thought you'd be shorter," you said, honestly, hoping to knock him down a peg, however mean that might have been. but of course he only smirked.

"get that a lot," he drawled, selecting a bill, putting his wallet back in his pocket with hands you had to force yourself not to stare at. "been told 've got the personality of a short guy in the body of a tall one."

you shook your head. of course someone had told him that.

you couldn't really ruminate on that, though, as he stuck the twenty in the front pocket of your apron, as well as something with a slight weight to it, urging an angry pink to the tops of your ears, the feeling of his wide hand warm, so close to you.

you peered up at him, sucked on your teeth as he pulled out his hand slowly, that ever-present smirk almost faltering at your gaze.

"thanks for the service, sugar," he said, and you probably imagined the way the end of his words sounded strained. "see you around, yeah?"

you didn't break eye contact, only let yourself smile back at him before turning and getting back to work, letting the push and pull of waitressing lull you into a rhythm during which it was practically impossible to think too heavily about bright eyes and broad shoulders.

by the end of your shift, you had been officially tired out. you were sure your hair reeked of coffee, and your ankles ached from standing all day.

going to empty your apron, however, right before you left, your hand settled on the bill from earlier, but also several wrapped butterscotch candies. your face contorted as you stared at them, wondering why trevor had put them there.

exhaustion won over curiosity though, as you thanked everyone for your first day and walked the short block back to the inn.

this won't be that bad, you were thinking to yourself as you walked up the stairs. you already had the phone number of a maybe-friend, after all, and as far as jobs went, this one could be a lot worse. good money, good way to meet new people, maybe even something pretty to look at -

as if summoned by your thoughts, when you turned out of the staircase to your hallway, there trevor was, standing on a ladder, looking into the ceiling, some box of tools on the floor.

you narrowed your eyes, bag suddenly feeling heavy on your shoulder. the presence of a new figure drew his gaze to you, and you had to scold your heart, the way it beat like a teenager at the way he looked at you, then. you didn't know him, after all, and you weren't here for anything romantic.

"you followin' me, sugar?" he asked, stepped down from the ladder, making his way over to you. his voice was slow and tired, from whatever he had done that day. you were shocked at the fact that you wanted to know what that was. his gaze shone as he gently took your bag from your shoulder and slugged it onto his own, fell into step beside you. you let him. "tell me you're following me."

you rolled your eyes, but the small smile on your face wasn't going anywhere. "this is where i'm staying," you explained, "so, if anything, you're following me."

you stopped in front of your door, leaned back against it, suddenly in no rush to lock yourself behind it, alone. not when he was on this side of the door, looking like this.

almost weary with hard work, but not weary enough to sour him, just enough to make his movements and expressions slightly slower, lazier, more indulgent, like they were drenched in chocolate ganache. not when he was here, looking at you like this, like you were the most interesting thing he'd ever seen.

after years at some preppy, pretentious university, at which ingenuity was the most valuable currency, one you felt you lacked so disgustingly, was it really too surprising that you softened under his gaze? that you wanted to stay in it, just a little bit longer?

"sugar?" he asked, head tilted, and you realized he had been talking.

"sorry, what?" you asked, your voice soft like sponge cake, willing your eyes to focus, your mind to focus harder.

he didn't tease you too badly, though, only let his smile grow sharper with a smirk. "i said that 'm sorry if i hurt your feelings with the dibs stuff," he said, and you were almost confused at his apology. you weren't even upset, and when was the last time someone had apologized to you so quickly after doing something?

your memory cut hazily to your ex, somehow trying to convince you it had been your fault that he cheated on you, that it was something you were lacking that had inevitably led him to do that. you practically shivered, then internally scolded yourself for comparing trevor, whom you had met today, you reminded yourself, to your ex-boyfriend.

"'s fine," you said, waving him off, your back softening further into the door. "didn't really hurt my feelings."

his eyes flashed. "didn't really or didn't, sugar?" he asked, searching your face.

you swallowed, acutely aware of his attention, how it slid down your nose, your cheeks, your jaw, slow and thick as sludge. "didn't."

he gave a nod. "'m sorry anyway," he said, and it came out low. "if you really want to go for matt, i won't stop you."

and part of you wanted to blurt out i don't want matt!

but it was your first day in this place, and honestly, you were still kind of hung up on his apology, and the way it sounded from his chapped lips, and you knew to correct him would be exactly what he wanted.

so you just said "thank you," and were shocked at how gentle it sounded.

"jesus christ, distracted, are we, trev?" the voice of the young inn-keeper called from the end of the hallway. he seemed awfully chipper as he approached, hands in his pockets. "i came up to check on your progress," he said, "or lack thereof, i guess." he looked between the two of you. "now i see who's stolen your attention."

"i'm on my legally-required fifteen minute break," trevor said, half-smiling, turning back to you. "sugar, you know my brother, griff?"

you nodded, suddenly clocking the subtle ways their appearances drew from each other. trevor was taller, griff had a wider face, bigger features. but they had the same eyes, same strong nose, mirroring grins. "he owns my room," you said, dumbly, tiredly.

griff only smiled. "she's had a long day, trev, leave her be."

trevor searched your face again, seemed to find all the proof he needed - your heavy eyelids, drooping shoulders. he gently handed your bag back to you. "i'll see you tomorrow, sugar," he said, as soft as you'd heard him. so soft it startled you. "sweet dreams."

"goodnight," you said to both of them, shutting the door behind you. sleep came easily that night, again, with dreams less so of hiding behind trees and more so of rough hands and laughing eyes.

you were surprised, pleasantly so, at how quickly you fell into a routine in your new home. surprised at how quickly you let yourself call this place that.

maybe it was the way that bridget wasn't just being polite when she had given you her phone number, as she had quickly set up dates to show you all her favorite hiking spots around. your weekly hikes with her became a highlight as she told you more about the town, about her young daughter, about book club, about anything and everything. she was so kind with you that you found yourself so comfortable confiding in her. it felt so easy calling her a friend.

maybe it was the way the town seemed to accept you as one of their own so quickly and genuinely. the line cooks flirted with you in the way only line cooks do (in ways that would not be acceptable outside of a kitchen). they made you food to take home, kept you from starving. the host, harry, began to trust you enough that he asked for your help on homework. the regulars began to recognize you, know your name, ask how you were doing. griff checked in on you, asked if anything was wrong with the room, said you should feel free to use his kitchen anytime (as your room was the simplest kind, and didn't have any cooking appliances). you began to know the names of the streets, the stores, the store owners. your fresh start was starting to feel like just that - a start.

or maybe it was that same group of guys who came in every morning, at the same time, who ordered only coffee and then left in a flush of waves and heavy jackets and called-out salutations. you learned that the one with the curly hair, alex, was the quietest, probably the smartest. his closest friend, cole, was the shorter one, who had the loudest laugh. and matt was warming up to you, you thought. the more you made fun of trevor, the more he seemed to like you.

it was that same group, every day, who came in loudly and left louder, who had paint and dirt smudged on their shirts, their hands. who drank coffee like it was water. who laughed like it was easy as breathing, and maybe that was how it was supposed to be.

and, of course, there was trevor, who, the more you got to know him, the more trouble he became. every day, his "good morning, sugar," would reverberate through your chest, and you would drop a pot of coffee at their table, ask how they were doing, listen for their answers.

some comments about how old man peters' roof is caving in, and he should have told them about it probably a year ago, or about how the police chief's plumbing is fucked, or about how they were going over to fix bridget's sink that day. and, if it was the last one, matt would flush, which would make your eyes widen, would make you pepper him with questions about his crush.

and then, at some point during their morning break, trevor would ask something about you, about how you were, about the way you were wearing your hair, the shoes you were wearing, the book you had been reading the week before. and then, as he left, without fail, he would slip a bill and several butterscotch candies into your apron pocket, each time his hand growing heavier, more significant as it settled so close to you.

it didn't particularly help your small crush that you saw him everywhere. he was always fixing something - in the diner, at the inn, in the park downtown. you couldn't escape him and his deft hands, his working mind, his strong frame and easy laugh and addictive smile.

he was everywhere, so of course he would be here, at the grocery store, after your shift one day. you were roaming the isles, looking for a specific kind of vinegar, your basket hoisted up onto your hip, when a low whistle made you turn. you were met with that lazy smirk, your favorite one of his, the nighttime one, the tired one. he approached you, his work boots heavy on the ground.

"you followin' me, trevor?" you asked, repeating what become something of an inside joke between the two of you.

"maybe," he said, looking down at you, shimmering eyes framed by long lashes. "do you want me to be following you, sugar?"

you hummed, noncommittal, some harmony between the fluorescent lights above, the whir of the fridges the next isle over. you turned back to the shelving, resumed your survey of the contents. "your brother offered his kitchen for me to use while he's out tonight," you said, not looking at him.

"did he?" trevor mused, an almost undetectable bite in his tone.

you nodded, eyes alight with excitement. "been eating pancakes and chicken noodle soup for weeks now," you said, referring to what the line cooks sent you home with. "swear my mouth's watering just thinking about something different." you ran a thumb along your bottom lip, as if checking for spit.

if you had been looking at trevor, you would have see his shallow swallow, the way his eyes tracked your movement, how his gaze hung from your mouth like lacy ribbon. he cleared his throat.

you finally located the vinegar you wanted, on the very top shelf. pushing yourself up on your tiptoes, you reached the tips of your fingers for the bottle, only just out of reach.

trevor only chuckled as he grabbed the bottle easily, took the basket from your hip and into his own hand, dropping the vinegar into it.

"i can carry that, you know," you said, suddenly wishing you had something to do with your hands.

"i know," he said, smug.

you rolled your eyes, huffed a thank you, anyways.

"so, what're you making?" he asked as you led him from aisle to aisle, loading your basket with ingredients.

you explained to him how, in college, this one salad had been your absolute favorite to make when you needed something that made you feel good. something about the combination of arugula, kale, chickpeas, sweet potato, whatever other vegetables you had on hand, sometimes chicken, if you were feeling fancy, something about the simple dressing of oil and vinegar - it was perfect. no meal left you feeling as good as this one did.

and it was how you had made it entirely on your own, too - it wasn't some fancy steak dinner your ex had buttered you up with after a fight, it wasn't boxed brownies shared with your old best friend the night before you found out - no, this was all you.

when you looked back at trevor, there was something molten in his gaze. "sounds amazing," he said, low, like he didn't want anyone else to hear.

you tilted your head, let your smile slant across you face, scrunched up your nose, teasing. "would you want to join me for dinner, trevor?"

his face split into a grin. "i would," he said, "i would want to, please."

and so you found yourself fumbling around someone else's kitchen with an audience, washing kale and peeling sweet potatoes with fingers that twitched towards the figure across the counter, practically irritated that they weren't touching him.

you scolded your hands to behave, which became easier as the night went on, as conversation flowed like cranberry juice, the flavor of it lingering in your mouth just the same.

he might ask you about how the diner was going, to which you would look around as if to make sure no one was there. his eyes would flash. you would miss this.

"harry's been making some real progress in precalc," you would say from behind your hand, speaking of the host, whom you had come to view very fondly. "and you didn't hear it from me, but i think he's going to ask his friend jason to the school dance next weekend."

you would be flushed with excitement and pride, and trevor wouldn't be able to get much beyond that, honestly, the way it lit you up from the inside out.

but then he would clear his throat, and lean forward on his hands, and tell you that if harry needed help asking jason to the dance, he knew exactly the best crew for the job.

"don't tell me you're talking about your rag-tag group of misfits," you would say, cocking a brow as you dressed the kale and arugula.

and he would feign offense, place a broad hand over his heart. "i'll have you know that this group of misfits went 16/16 in high school dance invitations," he would say. "all four of us, all four years."

you might roll your eyes. "real band of heartbreakers, were you?" you would say.

and laughter would shine behind his eyes like christmas tree lights behind store windows, and he would stretch his arms above his head, lazily, comfortably. "'course not," he would say, his voice the sort of raspy that comes with stretching, "only alex."

and this would pull a real laugh from you, as you tossed everything together, the kind of laugh that rung in his ears, that made him pleasantly dizzy.

as the night passed on, time moving altogether too fast and the kind of slow that oozes, you would learn about how he grew up in this town, how he went to trade school, how he had had the same friends his entire life. you would ask questions about if he ever felt the desire to leave (not really), how he got into manual labor (he never really felt like he was that good at anything else), what his family was like (close, but not overbearingly so).

and, in turn, between bites and sips and laughs, you would tell him about how you grew up (humbly), what school was like (hard, but rewarding), how you ended up here (cheap housing, good job, close community). and maybe you would actually tell him about the ultimate betrayal you had faced before you left, why that made you want to be somewhere, anywhere else, somewhere where you had no choice but to make a life entirely for yourself.

at the mention of your ex his jaw might clench, his mouth twitching ever so slightly. he would mutter something about nonsense, and you would smile.

he would ask questions about your family (just your dad and you), your favorite parts of your life here (hikes with bridget, homework sessions with harry, bickering with old man peters).

and he would pout, at that, his bottom lip looking so positively delicious it stole your breath. "'m not your favorite, sugar?" he would plead, joking.

maybe you would really look in his eyes, then, find something hot, tilt your head. "you wanna be?" you would ask, breathier than you intended.

and he would smirk, somehow flipping the dynamic on its head entirely with only a single expression. "you know i do, sugar," he would tell you, low and so loaded you would blush.

it might scare you how easily you let him in, how quickly you were warming up to him. his pretty face might scare you, because pretty faces had hurt you before. there had been no one prettier than your old best friend, after all, and look how that turned out.

so, when the night grew viscous, and the meal was long over, the dishes done, a portion for griff packed up in tubberware on the counter, when he walked you upstairs to your room, both of your steps slow, reluctant, when his gaze lingered on your lips and the smell of him grew distracting, the height of him all-consuming, even then, even though you wanted to, you didn't kiss him. you only bid him a gentle goodnight.

"thank you for tonight," he would say, instead, looping his arms around your neck, hugging you close to his chest. this was so much worse, you thought, as you breathed him in, wrapped your own arms around him and squeezed. the way he held you like he was afraid what would happen if he let go. his hair so messy and his tone so genuine it almost hurt. "sweet dreams, sugar," he said into your hair before pulling away.

even though, that night, you might have dreamed about how his rough hands might feel as they held your soft cheek, how his chapped lips might slot against your glossed mouth. even if you woke up, that next morning, practically sweating. not the sweetest of dreams.

today was your day off. you had plans later with bridget, but you decided to book a haircut and blowout at the salon downtown, since you had the whole morning to yourself. the salon was one place you hadn't been in, yet, and you hadn't had a haircut in months, so you figured now was a good a time as any.

the bell above the door rang when you stepped inside, but no one seemed to notice over the shrill thrum of hair dryers, sinks, and the steady stream of gossip that you appeared to have walked in on.

"she told me her trevor went on a date, julia," one of the stylists said seriously, her eyes expressive as she sectioned her client's head of long curls. "won't stop rambling on and on about her, she says."

your heart jumped in your chest at trevor's name, sunk accordingly. he had been on a date? you weren't sure why you had assumed you were the only girl in his life at the moment, but it stung, nonetheless. you pulled at a thread on your long sleeve, eyes down.

you can't be upset, you told yourself, don't you dare be disappointed-

"oh, honey, how long you been waiting?" one of the stylists called out, making her way over to you and the front desk. "swear you have to throw somethin' at one of us when you come in or we'll never stop talking." she had such an easy way of speaking, a comfortable posture, a genuine face.

"sorry," you said, looking around, still recovering from what you'd overhead.

she just waved you off with a smile. "it's us motormouths who should be apologizing," she said before introducing herself as ginger. "now, what name is your appointment under?"

you told ginger your name, and as soon as you did, her eyes sailed up to meet yours again, wide and bright. she snapped her fingers, getting the room's attention. "you're the doll who stole our baby trevor's heart!"

you blushed furiously, felt the words in your mouth twist and tangle like a toddler's hair. "me? no, that can't be right," you said. there's no way last night counted as a date, you thought. there's no way he's talking about me.

the other stylist just squealed as you were led to a chair. "of course it's you! look at her, julia," she said to the woman in her chair, practically elated, "what a treasure!"

your blush wasn't going anywhere any time soon.

"that boy's been talkin' to 's mama 'bout you, honey," julia said from her chair, her expression knowing. "he's just about smitten, she says."

"and a mother always knows," ginger said, emphasizing her words with hairbrush gestures.

so you spent your appointment getting a couple inches off, hearing about the trouble trevor used to get in when he was younger (apparently alex used to be the biggest troublemaker, though), hearing about how trevor just went around fixing whatever anyone needed fixing.

"swear that sweet boy wouldn't charge a dime if this town'd let him," ginger said as she worked long layers into your hair, "we have to sneak payment into his pockets, and even then he tries to give it back!"

your cheeks burned, your heart heavy with affection as she blew out your hair, leaving it soft and smooth. you paid, said goodbye for about ten minutes, found out just how hard it was to escape salon conversation.

"now go show off for our baby, honey!" someone called out the door after you, making you laugh. you guessed that all the stereotypes about small town hair salons were true.

you went on your weekly hike with bridget, who gave you that understated grin when she saw you. "looking good," she said, bumping her shoulder into yours. "trev doesn't stand a chance."

you rolled your eyes. "didn't get my hair cut for him."

she laughed. "i know," she responded, "but all anyone can talk about this morning is your date last night."

you couldn't help but scoff good-naturedly. "i can't believe people already know about this," you said, "it was literally last night, and it wasn't even a date."

she waved you off. "nobody cares about the logistics. even my girl was moping to me about it. she's got a little crush on her skating instructor."

"trevor teaches your daughter how to skate?" you asked, having never heard of this.

she nodded. "he's the highlight of her week," she said, her eyes soft, picturing her daughter's unabashed smile.

"get in line," you mumbled, covering your face with your hands.

why was everyone so intent on revealing adorable information about trevor to you today? didn't they know he already took up enough of your daily headspace?

"can't somebody tell me he hates animals, or something? or that he's really pretentious about art? or that he has, like, some weird fetish?"

bridget laughed. "sorry, babe," she said, "he's the town's sweetheart."

you were still reeling with all of this information when you got back to the inn, your face rosy from the outside chill, your body pleasantly awake from your walk.

you began up the stairs, humming to yourself, ready to collapse onto your bed, maybe catch up on some reading.

"you followin' me, sugar?"

you looked up, immediately, feeling your pulse in your neck, in your teeth.

there he was, of course, there he was, painting the railing in the stairwell, the sharp smell of paint faint in the air.

all dirtied up from the day, that slouch that only appeared in the late afternoon, that crinkly smile, all of it made him almost too good to be real.

"maybe," you said, like second nature now, after all those times before, his face forcing a tiny smile from your mouth.

you stood just in front of him now, held your breath as he reached up, twirled a strand of your hair around a finger. he let out a low whistle you felt in your stomach.

"lookin' awful pretty tonight," he said, not much more than a whisper as he thumbed the soft ends of your freshly-cut hair.

his words settled like thick caramel on your tongue. "thank you," you mustered, your mind spinning with all of the wonderful things you had heard about him, today.

he bent down to one knee in front of you as you collected your thoughts. "um, what are you doing?" you said, strained, dumb.

he looked up at you through those girlish lashes, smirk heavy on his perfect face. he tugged your foot closer to him. "shoe's untied," he said, gesturing to your sneaker. "may i?"

you blinked at him before nodding, because what alternate universe was this? you tried to imagine any other man you'd known willingly getting on the floor for you, just to tie your shoe. you couldn't.

he tightened your laces with nimble hands.

you cleared your throat. "heard something funny today from the ladies at the salon," you told him, trying to focus on something other than his proximity.

he hummed. "nothin' good, i'll bet," he mused, "ginger loves a good story."

"it was a good story," you said, reveled in the way his expression softened, giving you the courage to press on. he began to tie a double knot. "'bout how you're tellin' your mom we went on a date."

he pulled the bow tight, looked up a you for a second, a guilty, childish grin on his face, caught red-handed. you extended a hand to him, helped him back to his feet.

"oh, yeah," he said smugly, folding his arms across his chest, leaning back against the wall, easy, comfortable. "like how you asked me to dinner, and then cooked for me, and how it 100% was a date-"

you laughed, shook your head. "it was not!" you said, "i never said it was a date!"

he ran his tongue along the inside of his cheek. "call it wishful thinking, then, sugar."

and you couldn't focus too much on what he meant by that, so you just shook your head again. "you're too much," you said, wanting it to come out teasing, but instead there was a breathy sort of desperation behind it.

"yeah?" he asked, that smirk present as ever. you had grown so close to him without realizing it, now just a step away. him leaning back against the wall, you right in front of him, looking up at him.

you nodded, swallowed, your blood hot, your skin prickly, alive.

his eyes fixed you in place, teasing. "too much for you, sugar? can't take it?"

you bit your lip to stop any sound from escaping you, because everything seemed entirely too loud, then. you could hear your heartbeat, you swore you could hear his, the radiator could have been screaming at you. you didn't dare think about just how much you wanted to take.

to stop yourself from doing something much more serious, you simply reached your hand forward, swiped at a spot of paint on his face with your thumb.

your touch against his brow bone felt like an exhale, like melting wax. you could feel his warm breath on your hand as you pulled it back, but then he was looking at you, like that, like you were so, so special, like he would have doused his face in paint just to have your hands wipe it all away, and were you imagining the way his gaze grew fiery?

"trev! old man peters says his sink's still leaking!"

griff's voice rattled down the stairwell, smothering the flames in your eyes, if only just. just enough to break the spell, to pull away, to tell him you'd see him tomorrow for his coffee break, for his hungry gaze to follow you up the stairs until you were out of sight.

and so the routine continued, more butterscotch candies slipped into aprons, more pestering his friends, more slyly asking bridget what she thought about matt (she was deflecting, you'd observed, delighted). more helping with homework and reading in bed and cooking and snapping at old man peters to stop leaving his watch behind.

more stolen touches and longing glances and sideways smiles, backwards hats and work gloves stuffed in pockets, damp hair sticking to your neck, the hem of your skirt brushing against your thigh. more flame and softness and sweetness drenching your frame as he said hello, and goodbye, and sweet dreams, and anything else. that coil inside of you twisted tighter and tighter as you wondered what exactly was holding you back, what exactly you were waiting for.

one day, after work, there was a knock at your door. you'd be lying if you said you weren't a little bit disappointed when you opened it.

"you coming?" griff said, "town hall meeting starts in 5."

you scrunched up your nose. "town hall? what, is it required?"

he smiled, kind. "no, but they're usually a good time," he said, "and trevor's going to be there."

you had your jacket in your hand already. "he's not the reason i'm coming," you said, following him out the door and down the street.

"i won't tell anyone," was all griff replied, his smile understanding and gentle.

you had never been to a town hall meeting before. you'd guessed that the closest thing you could imagine was a student government meeting, which you'd been a part of in college.

this seemed much more laid back, though, taking place in the middle school gymnasium. it looked like almost everyone from town was here. you noticed old man peters, sitting with bridget, her daughter buzzing around from person to person. the salon ladies were talking to pretty much everybody. there was harry, sitting next to his mom. you approached bridget as griff went up to talk to the fire chief, one of his close friends.

soon enough, the meeting began, the first issue on the docket being the prospect of a stoplight on the intersection of drysdale avenue and york street.

bridget yawned, "same issue every meeting," she whispered to you. "always divided down the middle." this time was no different, you observed, the parents in the crowd seemed completely for the stoplight, the older crowd significantly against.

"next issue, a write in from the community, quote," the representative began, reading from notecards, "should the implementation of the 'dibs' rule be observed seriously, unquote." he cleared his throat, looked up to the crowd. "thoughts?"

you stifled an embarrassed laugh, held your face in your hands as bridget rubbed soothing circles in your back. "is this actually a real-life discussion topic?" you asked, incredulous.

"just let them have their fun," she whispered in a way that made her smile evident.

"i think 'dibs' is outdated and juvenile," a woman said, "sets a bad example for the kids."

the man up front was taking notes.

"i think it's cute," bridget piped up from her chair.

"me, too!" her daughter giggled, jumping into her lap.

"alright, i've got two for cute, one for bad influence," the man said, "anyone else?"

"i think it's lame," a very matt-like voice said, gruff, short.

"one for lame," the scribe said aloud.

"well, i think you're lame," that goofy drawl called out, making you pull your head up, look around until you spotted him, near the front. he was swatting matt on the back of the head. "and i learned it from alex, so take it up with him."

his curly-haired friend hid a smirk. "it's a high school move," he explained to the crowd, before turning to face trevor. "we haven't done it in years."

"until now," trevor amended, "but you guys understand. you've seen her. you've talked to her."

ginger put her hand over her heart as if swooning.

someone coughed. your face was burning up. bridget nudged you gently.

"she's here, trev," griff said, to which the fire chief let out a hearty laugh.

"really?" he turned to face the crowd, his voice excited, hopeful, searching. "where are you, sugar?"

you raised your hand, of all things, immediately wanted to smack yourself. "hey," you said, mousy.

"hey," he parroted, mocking, but of course not maliciously. his smile broke you apart.

and then you were having a conversation with several rows of people in chairs between you, on a gymnasium floor.

"you're the only one with the dibs curse on you," he said, "so what's your take on it? should we abolish the practice for good? is it outdated?"

you swallowed, were looking only at him as the scribe sat at the front, pen at the ready. "well," you began, "it works, from what i can tell." his smile put you together again. "so it can't be that outdated."

his eyes shone, only for you. "you heard her," he said, "case closed."

"are we actually still talking about this?" old man peters asked, to bridget, but much too loudly.

the rest of the meeting passed, absolutely delivering on laughs and nonsense, as promised.

"last thing before we go," the man said, "does everyone have a ride to the away game tomorrow?"

you leaned over to bridget. "what's that?"

"the rec hockey team is away this weekend," she whispered.

"rec hockey?" you said, confused, "like kids?"

she shook her head. "like kids, yes, but not kids."

"sugar, do you have a ride?" trevor's voice rang clear against the mumbled chatter of the room.

you looked up, met his eyes again. "uh, i don't think i'm going?" you said.

there was a collective gasp, followed by silence. your eyes widened. "babe," bridget whisper-screamed at you. "everyone goes."

you cleared your throat, realizing your grave error. "well, then i don't have a ride."

"you can ride with me, honey," ginger said, sweetly, with a warning in her eye.

"trevor has to go super early since he's playing," bridget whispered from next to you. you nodded, signaling that you had heard her.

"thank you!" you called out.

rides were sorted, the meeting ended, everyone saying their goodbyes, folding chairs scraping against the waxy floor. trevor and his friends caught up with you and bridget on your way out.

trevor slung a heavy arm around your shoulders that you couldn't help but lean into. he smelled like sawdust and something citrusy. "i didn't know you played hockey," you said, looking up at him curiously, not letting yourself ruminate on how good he felt slotted against your side.

he shrugged.

bridget scoffed. "he's good, too," she said, "i hate to pump his tires, but only the best teacher for my baby girl." she pressed a kiss to the cheek of her smiley daughter, whom she had hoisted up onto her hip. "all of them play," she said, a vague gesture to the group. "lit it up in high school."

"not all of them are as good, though," trevor said, which caused some annoyed groans.

"what about heartbreaker alex, over here?" you teased.

"heartbreaker alex has grown up since junior year," alex said, soft spoken. "and it's not my fault my hair looks like this."

the shortest friend of the group, cole, the one with the loudest laugh, whom you had come to rely upon for book recommendations, put a hand in line with his brow bone, as if blocking out the sun to search for something.

"what are you doing?" alex asked.

"oh, me?" cole said, "just looking for all the girls you must be getting, since you've still got all that hair."

alex rolled his eyes, the group laughed.

"what about you, matt?" you asked as trevor held open the door, all of you stepping out into the night air. "i've heard the team's got a perfect record for dance invites. any high school stories?"

matt didn't say anything for a second, but bridget laughed. "you're really telling people that, trev, as if i didn't ask him freshman year?" she nodded towards matt, who was actually blushing, you thought, but the dark made it hard to tell. "was a tough sell, eh? he was so quiet when i asked i thought he pretending that i wasn't there."

"oh, we remember," cole said, tone alight with understanding. "funny how we grow up, but so much stays the sa-" he blew out a breath when matt elbowed him in the gut.

you smiled to yourself. "i'll see all of you tomorrow, for the game, then?" you said, the inn now steps away.

goodbyes rang out, and you made to remove yourself from trevor's embrace, but he only spun you back into his chest, pulling you close, his arms now wrapped around your back, your nose against his breastbone. you breathed in, melted into him, squeezed him back.

"did you mean it?" he said, soft, so only you would hear him.

you mumbled your confusion into his chest.

"when you said it was working? did you mean it?"

your heart jumped, his words so vulnerable you couldn't look at him. "i meant it," you whispered into his bright shirt. "you're working on me, trevor." you felt his lips brush against your hair, featherlight, before he let you go.

"sweet dreams, sugar," he said, and you walked back to your room with wobbly legs and an overactive heart.

the following day, ginger graciously gave you a ride to the next town over. she, of course, chatted you up the entire time, which you welcomed.

"i know i must be super late to the party here," you said, carefully, picking at your nails, "but what's the story behind bridget and matt?"

ginger tsked. "we're a bad influence on you, honey," she said, taking a right. "you're gonna be a big mouth like me in no time."

you laughed. "it's only 'cause matt's so obvious about it," you told her, "they've known each other forever, and i learned yesterday that she asked him to their freshman dance." you trailed off, hoping that ginger would take your cue.

she nodded, smiled fondly. "our bridget was always such a spitfire," she said, "always going for what she wanted. smart as a whip, too, but you know that."

you nodded. you did.

"and she could have had anyone, but she wanted our matthew, and he wasn't a sight for sore eyes then, like he is now."

is matt good-looking? you'd thought to yourself. you surely hadn't noticed. perhaps you were distracted. perhaps your gaze always wandered.

"but bridget marched right up, asked him to the dance, and the poor boy was so stunned it took him a full minute to say yes." she shook her head, lost in the memory.

"did they ever date, like for real?" you asked, enraptured.

she frowned. "no, i don't think so, at least. bridget was always bouncing around flings, trying out guys for a few weeks, then cuttin' 'em loose." her smile grew wistful. "then she had her darling girl, middle of senior year. dad booked it, never looked back. don't think she's been with anyone since."

you frowned, too, hating the thought of someone abandoning your friend, as lovely and wonderful as she was. what a privilege it would be to be a part of her family.

"and matt?" you asked, as the car pulled into the parking lot. you ran your palms up and down your jeans.

ginger whistled. "that boy's been starry-eyed over her since grade five," she said, "but me and the girls aren't surprised he thinks he doesn't have a shot. his self-esteem's never been the highest, not like the rest of 'em."

"not like cole, who swears he could land a plane, if it came around to it?" you said, grinning.

ginger laughed. "exactly. and not like alex, who was never without a girlfriend, and not like your trevor, who's never needed anyone to tell him how great he is."

you sucked on your teeth. "but we do, anyways," you reminded her.

"that we do, honey," she finished, putting the car in park. "let's go cheer on those knuckleheads, shall we?"

the rink was colder than you thought it would be. the walls were practically made of aluminum foil. you wrapped your arms around yourself, blew out a foggy breath, followed ginger to the away section, absolutely packed with everyone you recognized.

as you settled into the stands, your eyes immediately searched for trevor.

"he's number 11," bridget said, coming to stand next to you.

you rolled your eyes. "and what number is matt?"

she shoved you, playfully, but when spoke, it was bashful. "12," she said. "cole's 22 and alex is 39. police chief is 8, fireman spence is the goalie, and griff is the ref."

you furrowed your brow. "isn't that a conflict of interest?" you asked.

she huffed in a laugh. "if anything, it's a disadvantage for us."

the game started, and you realized very early on that maybe trevor hadn't been lying when he said not all of them are as good. he practically flew around the ice, graceful, mesmerizing. and it was obvious that he wasn't looking to show off, either, that he was just playing to have fun, and if he really wanted to, he could run the scoresheet up into oblivion.

you could feel bridget smile beside you. "yeah," she sighed. "it's pretty crazy."

"he could play professionally," you breathed.

she shrugged. "he's happy," she said simply.

cole scored twice, the other team clawed their way back in. griff threw alex in the box for boarding, which old man peters, even with his granddaughter in his lap, would not let go, keeping a one-man ref, you suck! chant going long after the power play was over.

"does he know it's griff?" you asked bridget.

"of course he does," she said. "he'll buy him a beer after this."

such was small town life, you supposed.

in the end, fireman spence made some crucial saves, keeping it tied late into the third. with about a minute left, trevor made an unreal, practically magical pass to matt, who finished it off in a one-timer that sunk into the back of the net.

the crowd erupted. you and bridget jumped up and down, holding each other as the goal horn sounded.

the team went through the line in celebration, then skating by the away section before the next face off.

trevor blew you a kiss. you shook your head at him, but couldn't wipe the smile off of your face.

the game ended in a win, and the town migrated over to the local bar. you busied yourself with harry's mom, telling her that no, she had nothing to worry about, yes, harry was quiet, but he was kind as anything, and that was most important.

everyone cheered when the team walked in. you clapped along with them, feeling a smile tug at your lips as soon as your eyes locked on trevor.

his eyes found yours immediately, that lazy grin following as he squeezed past people to get to you.

you met him halfway, a hazy neon light over your heads, making color dance in his eyes like starlight. his long hair was damp, curly at the ends in a way that made you want to reach up and tug at them.

"speechless, eh, sug?" he teased, shrugging one shoulder with exaggerated arrogance. "i know, my play tends to evoke that reaction from people. i-"

you scrunched your mouth to the side, smacked him lightly in the chest. "god forbid i try to think of something nice to say to you," you said, smiling. you made to pull you hand back, but his warm, wide palm came up to cover it, holding it against his chest.

you exhaled, looked up at him, unsure.

"what was your favorite part?" he asked, those shining eyes careful. "did you like cole's between-the-legs? or maybe my last assist?" he winked. "always a crowd favorite."

suddenly confidence welled up inside of you, a vault. but we tell him anyways, you had said. that we do.

tell him, the overhead lights whispered.

"when you blew me a kiss," you said, reaching your free hand up to cup his jaw, textured under your touch from his five-o'clock-shadow. "that was my favorite part."

flame crept into his gaze abruptly, suddenly, shockingly. he settled his other hand on your hip, pulled you closer to him, his grip making your breath catch. "was it?" there was a roughness to his voice that felt tangible.

you nodded slowly, speaking to his mouth. you weren't scared. you weren't running. you weren't stalling. your skin was humming, your blood felt hot. he was so perfect against you, his hand over yours somehow the most intimate touch you could remember.

he ducked his head to yours, just a breath away, so you could see the gold in his eyes. "let me do you one better," he rasped, waiting for your single nod before finally crushing his mouth to yours in a kiss that felt like early sunrises, slow and meaningful and only the beginning.

you pushed up onto your tiptoes, looped both of your arms around his neck, tugging him closer, closer, as he kept one hand on your hip, the other grasping the back of your neck, keeping you from collapsing into him.

kissing your ex had felt almost robotic, scientific, stiff in an endearing way at best, stiff in an awkward way in reality.

there was nothing stiff about this, nothing scientific about him. this was all feeling, all malleable, all calloused hands and chapped lips. he kissed like someone who had to work for it, like someone who didn't have to prove anything to you but wanted to, anyways.

just that was enough for you to sigh against him, the fact that there were other people around the only thing stifling your soft moan.

he smiled into your mouth, like a low-spoken secret between the two of you. "taste like butterscotch," he mumbled against your lips, pulling away only just enough to make sure his words didn't disappear unheard down your throat, almost drowsily. "you like those candies i give you, sugar?"

your chest rose and fell against his. the low music in the background roared in your ears, the neon light making him look like some stained glass thing worth kneeling for. "like 'em because you leave 'em for me," you said, your fingertips tracing the top of his spine.

his eyes shimmered. "can i tell you something?"

you nodded.

he hummed, gave a guilty sort of smile. "gave 'em to you because i didn't like the taste of 'em," he started, smirk growing wider. "and i wanted to convince myself to hold off on kissin' you. not to rush you, you know."

you understood, and your swollen lips quirked at the story, but your eyes flashed with something like hurt. "you don't like the way i taste, trevor?" even if it was his own doing, you suddenly wanted to brush your teeth.

"that's the thing." he ran a steady thumb along your hairline. "think my plan backfired, 'cause butterscotch's my new favorite flavor." his thumb reached your chin, tilting it up to his mouth again. "can't get enough of it," he murmured, a man possessed, barely audible as he kissed you again, this time with a softness that cut like a dagger.

you swore your head was still spinning the next day. what was supposed to be just another shift at the diner quickly turned into a flurry of questions, of neighbors looking for a side of gossip with their french toast, of line cooks swearing there was something different about you.

it was hard to answer anyone, to do anything, honestly, when it felt like you were floating, like your head was far, far away, up in the clouds.

harry gave you a fist bump when he saw you. old man peters told you in a stern tone that public bars were no place for fornication, to which an ecstatic bridget patted his shoulder and reminded him that it was only a (sort of) innocent kiss.

she pulled all the details out of you, lit up as you flushed and stumbled over your memories.

the police chief made some joke about that boy being a bad influence when you accidentally brought him whole milk instead of soy milk for his coffee.

ginger and the girls were like some insatiable beast that only let you be when you reminded them that if they kept you much longer, the diner would go hungry.

of course, your heart instinctively fluttered when that tell-tale gust of loud laughter burst through the door, along with the drag of heavy work boots, the shuffling of canvas outerwear, the shoving of gloves into back pockets.

you made your way to the table with their regular pot of coffee, met trevor's dancing gaze almost sheepishly.

"morning, guys," you said, smiling at all of them.

they chimed their chorus of good mornings, pouring their coffee into mugs themselves, as they always insisted on.

"so, what's new?" cole asked, his head resting on his fists. "probably nothing, right?"

alex and matt hid their laughs.

you rolled your eyes, smiled nonetheless. trevor had a hat on, today, making his hair curl out from the bottom of the brim. you tucked a curling lock behind his ear, ran your nails soothingly along the hair at the nape of his neck.

anyone watching would have seen the way his gaze melted like milk chocolate, how his shoulders softened, his posture relaxing completely into your small touch.

he looked up at you, eyes so soaked in affection it spilled down his face like mascara-stained tears. "i missed you," he said.

his friends groaned, as if they'd heard this a million times. suddenly, with a blush, you had a guess as to what his morning had been like. perhaps he had been just as distracted as you.

"i missed you, too," you said, because it was the truth.

"he almost dropped a crate on my foot this morning," matt said, bitterly.

you put a hand over your heart. "how tragic." you looked up, making eye contact with your friend across the diner. "hey, bridge! matt almost hurt his foot this morning. has science found a cure for that, yet?"

she huffed a laugh as she approached, shook her head at matt when she stood in front of the table. she held the back of her hand to his forehead, as if checking for a fever. "are you sure you're okay, sweet boy? this sounds serious," she joked.

matt had paled. trevor pulled you into his lap and you hid your laugh in his collarbone.

"'m fine," matt bit out, to which bridget smiled.

"thank god, that was close," she said. her gaze wandered, landed on something out the window. she squinted. "did somebody dig up some of the flowers outside?" she asked.

"dig?" alex mused, "maybe rip is a better word, eh, trev?"

"right. almost forgot." trevor held you in his lap with one hand, reached the other to the side. suddenly several flowers were being held in front of you, thin, spidery roots still intact. "sugar, will you go to the valentine's day skate with me?"

you smiled, wide and toothy, touched one hand to his face as the other grasped the humble, earthy bouquet. "of course i will, handsome," you said, "what's the valentine's day skate?"

"pta event, tomorrow," bridget said, looking on with interest. "whole town shows up."

"this town shows up for everything," you replied.

she smiled fondly. "heart-shaped balloons and fruit punch and ice skates. what's not to love?"

you turned your neck to look back up at trevor. "'m honored to have been on the receiving end of one of your famous invitations," you teased, "even if it's not for a dance." his delight rumbled into your shoulders, the back of your thighs, firm and warm.

cole yawned, stretched. "duty calls, fellas," he said, making to get up.

you reluctantly pushed up from trevor's lap, quickly pouring his untouched mug into a to-go cup. the team filed out with their typical string of thank yous and goodbyes, matt's extra glance at bridget met with a returning smile.

then it was you and trevor, as the morning break always ended, like clockwork, like a bedtime story that was comforting in its predictability. he tucked a bill in your apron, several candies, the weight of them alone making you smile.

"did i tell you how pretty you look today?" he told you.

"no," you mused, your hands clasped behind your back, shifting on your feet.

he hummed. "so pretty, sugar, never been so nervous to ask someone out," he admitted, that smug smile lazy across his face.

you tilted your head. "don't be nervous," you told him. "you're the easiest yes i've ever had."

at your words he ducked his wide shoulders down to you, flipped his hat backwards on his head so as not to impede you in any way, kissed you with a rough palm on your soft face, your hands still behind your back as you met him up on your toes.

a different kiss, one so lovely, still, soft and beautiful, drenched in daylight.

would your head ever stop spinning, when it came to him? would you ever come down from the clouds, again? even if you did, would there not be cumulus tufts in your hair, wisps of cirrus in your lashes?

he was proving it difficult, especially that next day, the fourteenth of february.

you had the morning to yourself, existing slowly and methodically, reading and running errands, finally starting to get ready for your date in the late afternoon.

before you knew it, there was a knock at your door, just as you had swung your jacket on. you swung it open to find him leaning against the doorframe, the picture of ease, shoulders drooping the way they always did after a working morning.

"ready to go?" you asked, making to close the door behind you before pressing up on your toes to kiss him on the cheek. he caught your face in a hand before you could, though, steering your lips towards his mouth instead. you laughed against his lips. "greedy," you taunted, pulling away, letting yourself lean into his warm side.

"got no idea, sugar," he admitted, voice twinged with a day of speaking. you walked together to the high school ice skating rink, only a few minutes away, the brisk february air biting at your nose, your ears. you caught up on the morning, what book you had finished, how annoying ginger's husband was being about the state of his rain gutters.

when you entered the rink, finally, pushing forward the old doors, you couldn't help but smile, and trevor couldn't help but watch you.

everyone was here, of course they were. balloons hung from the top of the glass, streamers decorating every archway and spare inch. a massive table of themed refreshments was just next to the bleachers.

it looked like something out a ninety's film, mixed with the unique small town charm and wintery love you had come to know so personally.

you and trevor quickly got your skates on, all lingering touches and knowing smiles, and headed for the ice.

you were shaky at first, but his hands were so tight on yours, you knew there wasn't a chance he would let you fall. he spun you around the rink easily, twirling you like a ballroom dance floor, ever the show-off, anything to make you laugh.

"hey, harry!" you called out, at one point, noticing your host-friend helping a taller, skinner kid his age onto the ice. he waved, his eyes glittery in a way you recognized. is that jason? you mouthed. harry nodded, smiled shyly. you gave him an impressed thumbs up, trevor whistled.

you asked trevor how he got into hockey, watched how his mind waltzed behind his eyes when he talked about outdoor rinks with his friends in elementary school, how even piled-on scarves and hats and puffer jackets didn't stop that flying feeling.

significance would gather in your stomach, butterflies morphing into something much more serious, the kind of flame you'd find in a living room fireplace, in the hearts of teenage lovers.

you skated by cole, scooping up the snow he had made with quick starts and stops, and alex, whose neck was becoming the new home of said snow.

alex grunted, immediately breaking into stride to catch a fleeing cole, whose bright and clear laugh echoed under the roof like church bells.

the fire and police departments had started a relay race, ginger and her girls had formed a circle close to the hot chocolate.

old man peters held his sleeping granddaughter in his lap, bouncing his knee gently, both of their smiles blissful.

trevor's hand found your far hip, pulling you into his warm side. you sighed, looked up at him as you let your fingers trace along his jaw.

"touchy today, sugar, hm?" he said into your hair, a rumble to his tone that told you he liked it.

you hummed, nodded. "you just look so..." you trailed off, in thought, thinking about what, exactly, you meant to say. he looked what? practically edible? like an ocean you wanted to drown in?

how could you tell him you'd been avoiding looking at his hands, for fear you'd blurt something out about wanting them around your neck?

you just swallowed, cleared your throat. his smirk was a flash of teeth.

"you feelin' okay?" he cooed. "should i take you home?"

you found yourself nodding, even though you hadn't been at the rink for long.

"yeah?" he mocked, taunting, his hand on your hip suddenly firm, burning.

bridget's laugh cut through the sizzling air like a stream of cold hose water. you both turned to look at where she now sat, having obviously fallen onto the ice. she peered up at matt through her blonde bangs. "some teacher you are," she laughed, "i knew trev was the right choice for my girl's lessons."

matt shook his head, a barely-there smile on his thin lips. he offered her a hand, steadily helped her to her feet, an almost undetectable shake in his breathing as bridget grabbed onto his forearm for extra stability. "alright, smart ass," he mused, "no help for you, then."

he made to drop her hands, to leave her on her own, but she latched onto him tighter. "yeah right," she said, "you're not going anywhere, sweet boy."

cole's laugh sparkled at matt's flush.

you and trevor were already on the way out, bidding your short goodbyes, half-assed excuses about not feeling well given and taken with knowing eye-rolls.

he walked you back to the inn, up the stairs, his hands on you ever-so-distracting, his voice a careless rasp, your heart beating heavy in your chest.

you finally made it to your closed door, your back against it as he looked down at you with that heated gaze, his frame boxing you in.

"well, get some rest, sugar," he said, slowly, smiling. "since you're not feeling well." he twirled a strand of your hair around a finger.

you sputtered. "what? trevor-"

his eyes widened in mock-surprise. "oh, is there something you want?" he asked.

you clutched at his shirt with your fist, pulled. "please."

"please, what, sugar?" he asked, so smug you wanted to punch him. "gotta tell me what you want, hm?"

"you," you whined, but that wasn't enough.

"oh, is that it?" he drawled, ducking his head down to you, so close, but not close enough, not even a little.

you worked your jaw, so frustrated. "just," you tried, "just please, touch me, trevor, i just wanna feel you."

he smiled, held the side of your face in his palm. "am touchin' you, sugar," he said, "tellin' me this isn't enough?"

you ran your tongue along the inside of your cheek, groaned at his feigned confusion. "shut up," you breathed, his mouth an inch from yours.

"make me," he bit back, and then you were kissing him. you swore your lips would be charred, later, as if in proof. you reached a hand behind you, twisted open your door, while the other rooted in his hair, tugged him inside your room as he moaned against your lips.

one of his hands grasped the back of your neck, the other a bruising grip in your side, walking you backwards until the backs of your knees felt the blunt edge of the bed.

you barely registered as he reached under you, flipped you onto his lap, your legs straddling his hips as he sat down on the comforter, far too caught up in this kiss, somehow still so different from ones you has shared before. so charged you felt the air might combust at any second, that, despite his relentless repairs, there was no way this inn could withstand the way he was kissing you, now. surely, the roof would cave in under the weight of your want, water would sear straight through the pressurized pipes.

he smiled against your mouth when you started to rock your hips back and forth across his lap, just so desperate for something, anything.

your exhales came out short, little pants as you reveled in the little friction you were getting against his firm thigh, covered in his heavy work pants, nothing close to what you really wanted, but something, at least.

mercifully, he moved your clothes aside, rocked you more forcefully, making the sensation practically blissful. you dropped your heavy head to his neck, moaned into it.

"oh, sugar," he cooed, and you squeezed your eyes shut. "so greedy for it, hm?"

you nodded into his neck, the tough texture combined with the heavy weight of his thigh catching you in just the right spot, urging a whimper from your throat.

"makin' a mess of me, yeah? could cum just from my thigh?" he said, almost like he felt sorry for you, but you could hear the smile in his voice. you bit down gently on the space between his neck and shoulder, your small retaliation, smiled at his groan.

you slowed your rhythm, picked your head up, let your chest rise and fall as you looked at him in the face, searched his eyes.

his face was slightly flushed, his eyes only just a bit glassy, but he looked at you like you were a wonder, like some divine power had made her way into his lap.

you pressed a feather-light kiss to the corner of his mouth, loved the way you could feel his smile crinkle and widen under your lips.

"please, trevor," you whispered, your touch so soft around his neck. "please just give me what i want."

you shifted on his lap until you felt him, hard and hot and heavy underneath you. his voice came out with a strain. "anything, sugar," he told you, "just tell me."

you lifted your hips up, could feel how wet you were, could tell you had probably left a trace of yourself on his pants. "wanna cum on your cock, trevor," you breathed, couldn't help your sly grin when he immediately began to tug his clothes aside. "please, please let me. i know i'm so greedy-"

he was nodding like he understood as he angled your hips up higher, shifted you so that you sat right above him as he pumped himself up and down, once, twice, so obviously ready for you. "you are, sugar," he said, so eager it almost sounded like a whine, "but i'll give you anything you want, swear it." his hands found your hips. "just promise you'll only be greedy for me, hm?"

you sank down onto him with a nodded promise, bit your lip at the slow, scorching pressure, the pleasant stretch that pulled at your middle, that you felt in your toes. you blinked, trying to get used to the sensation, trying to muffle the groan in your mouth.

"fuck," he moaned, his fingers clutching at the flesh of your hips like you might float away if he let go, "all the way, sugar, 'atta girl." you huffed a short breath when he was all the way in.

words felt far away, suspended in bubbles that whirled around your head.

"speechless, eh?" he teased, and you had a sense of deja vu. "don't worry, sugar. common re-"

and you could have growled at him for alluding to the fact that other girls had felt this, that there were other people in the world who knew what this felt like, so you fitted a delicate hand over his mouth and rolled your hips up and back on him until he was the speechless one, moans falling from his mouth, his brow pinched in pleasure.

"don't worry," you breathed, your mouth an inch from his ear. "common reaction."

you began to move your hips up and down faster as the stretch gave way to something dizzyingly good, as he began to thrust back up into you. so hard and fast, but he held you like something precious. his rhythm built until your mouth fell open, until sweat shone on the high points of his face, until time melted away, until you were reminded of what you'd mistaken him for when you'd first seen him, all that time ago - some ancient sculpture. a work of art.

he cursed as your clit caught on his pubic bone, the friction so overwhelming, and you clenched down on him. "give it to me, sugar," he said, but the strain in his voice made it sound like a plea. "fuck, let me hear you, yeah?" his tone grew gentle. "been wantin' to hear you for so long."

you tightened around him further at his small admission, let your nails rake down his neck, probably a little too hard. he grunted, thrusted harder, shifted you closer to him.

you moaned his name at the new angle, one you felt in the tips of your ears, your hairline, your tongue.

you were so close, so impossibly almost there. "please make me cum," you whined, "please, need you so bad." your exhale was practically pained as you ran your fingers over the red marks on his neck your nails had left. "don't i deserve it, baby?"

he grunted, and it was different. you felt his stomach and thighs clench, his hips sputter as his head spun with the fact that you'd gone right to begging him, skipped the asking part. he pressed his hand to your lower stomach, let his thumb catch against your clit, sending you over the edge in moments. "'course you deserve it, sugar," he rasped, gravelly, in your ear as you rode out your high, his thrusts growing wild. "been so good."

you clenched down on him, forcing his own orgasm, fast and all-consuming, the smell of him everywhere, mixed with your perfume. your exhales were warm and heavy, transparent clouds that settled on the floor of your room, making it every bit the dreamland it had become in your mind.

he held you so close to him as he pulled you to his chest, leaned you both back on your bed. you stared up at the ceiling.

about time, one of the tiles whispered, holding a crisp fiver.

couldn't have waited another week? the losing tile muttered bitterly.

you smiled as his rough hand found your face, tilted it towards him. he was smiling. your stomach fluttered as you felt your own mouth pull wider.

"what?" he asked, his voice rough, drowsy with use.

you shook your head. "nothing," you said, "just you." your eyes crinkled under the weight of your happiness. "i'm callin' dibs on you."

his eyes lit up as he pulled you in for another kiss, slow and overflowing with meaning. he hummed. "butterscotch," he whispered against your mouth. "my favorite."

fin.

[rebouks]

Invictus: Author's Note

Now that we've all survived the horrors, I figured I'd do a bit of a commentary on Robin's nightmare below the cut...

I guess the central themes we were going for within Robin's dream were threefold; the fact that he feels lonely/alone with the burden of his gift, that he's worried about Alex, and that his friends (and some other's) are annoying/confusing him, so let's break that down to begin with.

Robin was always destined to be the last one alive, mostly to compound his feelings of desolation, but also because planning/executing various endings would've taken way longer than 2-3 months to plan on my own 😅 He doesn't dare tell anyone about his abilities due to the fear of being judged or ostracised and I don't blame him. Most people wouldn't believe him, and those that might would probably avoid him or at least act differently around him even if they supported him; he's also paranoid that if a medical professional found out, they'd want to study him or god knows what else, hence the scepticism from the group when he told them (in the nightmare) and his twisted view of Doctor Abbott (who's actually a perfectly lovely psychologist in the waking world).

Alex hasn't written for over six months at this point and Robin doesn't know why; it's not as if they've slowly been losing touch over time with less and less communication either, her letters stopped without warning! Half of him expects there to be a reasonable explanation, but he can't help worrying. Clearly his subconscious mind ran away with all that concern...

Robin's classmates personalities were spot on (thanks to Robin's gift) but slightly exaggerated since each one of them is a proverbial thorn in Robin's side at the moment.

Levi: Extra impulsive, standoffish and contradictory within Robin's dream, I think it's fairly obvious Robin's still pissed at his friend. I toyed with the idea of Robin being the only one to make decisions that we could vote on, but thought the loss of control he'd feel from not being able to stop bad outcomes from happening off the back of other people's choices was far more apt. Levi continues to tread a questionable path irl and Robin can't stop him.. if only he'd just apologise!

Penny: Robin strongly dislikes Penny, hence her being super annoying.. not that she's much better in the waking world! If the psychic doesn't rate someone, I'd say it's a pretty safe bet they're not such a great person.. I'm sure he wishes his friend wasn't so into her 💀

Aster: I think the fact that Aster's stood up for Robin twice now had a big impact on how he acted; he tried to keep the peace where he could and was the only one who supported Robin after he'd told the group about his gift. Robin doesn't know him very well outside of his dream though, so some of this could just be a projection based on what little evidence he has 🤷‍♀️

Jacob: Robin's a bit annoyed/put off by Jacob right now.. he barely spends any time with him and Jude anymore and as they've gotten older, their personalities appear to be veering in different directions. He's volatile, haughty and obsessed with girls, hence his distrust toward Robin after the revelation of his gift and his less-than-stellar treatment of Tess.

Tess: Tess goes where Jacob goes, simple! Though Robin feels bad for her because he knows that she's way more into Jacob than he is and he's not faithful; that's why he so obviously dismisses his own girlfriend within the dream. In the waking world he's much more convincing, but Robin knows better.

What the hell was "x" about?

The dolls - they were usually found pointing toward danger and/or bad decisions, but did we listen? NOPE! Instead we chose to vilify them 😩

The Lab - this was actually a warped version of the seed vault/hydroponic garden Robin, Wren & Oscar explored in Granite Falls. That's why the retina detection system recognised him, 'cause he has technically been there before. I'm not a professional, so don't quote me on this, but apparently our minds can't conjure up people/places/things from nothing, so what we usually see in our dreams is stuff we've seen before or an amalgamation of various things mashed together, even if we don't actively remember them.

The Asylum - Sunnyside Asylum is a real place Robin read about on a late night internet delve down a rabbit hole (don't judge him, we've all done it) he just forgot he'd read about it or seen it before 🤷‍♀️

The butterflies - they're Alex's favourite animals (along with the humble moth!) so Robin thought they were leading him to her, but they were not ;-;

"So, I suppose you know-..." - what was Aster going to say!? Aster was about to assume that Robin knows he has a crush on him, and he'd be correct! Robin never really picked up on it before, but after recent events it's pretty obvious.. to Robin at least! Does he like Aster back? Well, maybe he doesn't know yet, or maybe it's a secret, but (spoiler alert) Robin's pansexual, so there's a chance he could.

Doctor Abbott - briefly mentioned before, but let's dig deeper!

Dr. Abbott is the psychologist Oscar/Courtney sent Robin to a while back for his selective mutism after it started hindering him/his schoolwork etc since starting high school. He's terrifying simply because Robin's terrified of him-.. though I suppose not him personally. Robin's torn between a rock and a hard place when it comes to professional help; on the one hand he'd love to offload all his troubles and get some real guidance, but the other side of him worries what that'd mean. He can't tell anyone the full story, so how could anyone truly help him? Is his mutism even connected to his gift, or does he just use it as a convenient excuse? What if they didn't believe him and labelled him insane? What if he IS insane and imagining everyone else's thoughts? What if they do believe him and want to experiment on him?! 😱 If he's gonna tell anyone about his abilities, it sure as shit isn't gonna be some stranger he doesn't trust, even if it appears they mean well! He'd love to know where his gift came from though. Why him? Where'd it come from? Does anyone else have it?? He doubts anyone would be able to answer these questions but it still kinda ties into the whole theme of being experimented on etc. I think at this point he's wondering who he is (as every teen does around his age) or who he'd be without his abilities too, like another part of him is worried he'd be a mere husk of himself if science somehow explained away his world. It's just a part of who he is now and I think he's starting to accept himself as is, so the thought of someone picking it all apart after his acceptance is perhaps more scary than letting anyone in to help make sense of it. Maybe it's just one of those things, or maybe he's bonkers and has no idea? He doesn't know.. he's very confused, hence the complicated feelings around poor, well-meaning Dr. Abbott.

Mr Handy - he gets an honourable mention because it's funny to me.. like he's usually on the players side, right?! Yeah, but Robin isn't fond of technology in general so in dreamland good ol' Mr Handy is a dickhead instead lmao 😂

Some fun what if's & titbits...

I'm not gonna break down all the what if scenarios because there were a LOT but I still wanna take some time to point out some fun stuff n' share a few fun things we missed out on 🤸‍♀️

If Levi tried to scare Robin, it wouldn't have worked in the slightest which I just find amusing 🤭

If Robin n' co. chose to hide instead of run earlier on in the dream, he would've gotten stuck in a closet with Aster eheuheuheu (this is the fun thing I said y'all missed out on!!)

There were numerous ways for Levi to piss Penny off during the duration of the dream (somehow he only managed one so well done ig) that would've potentially changed their demise and one was Tess falling off the ladder and Levi helping her.. look at those mad lil fists on Penny LMAO 😂 You can also see another lovely doll pointing in the direction of the monster that was chasing them but everyone would've been like ewwww! even tho she was just trying to help.. shame on us tbh ;-;

Just Aster being cute tryna keep the peace.. IF HE'D SURVIVED! T-T

Mr Handy being absolutely demented.. love that for him.

Robin being yeeted back to the asylum.. skjsk idk I just like these screenshots lmao

Aster being a menace to both Levi and Penny ehehe

I had such fun creating this little project (I say little but it literally took months fkfjgkj) and October was kinda shitty for me so thank you to everyone for reading along, voting and generally having fun with me, it gave me something to look forward to! 🧡

I love horror and taking a break from a more realistic style of storytelling is always good fun, dreams especially 'cause they can be as wacky as you like!

I suppose my main inspo for the what if's/voting was Until Dawn but I think we can all thank games like Silent Hill, Outlast, Resident Evil, Amnesia etc etc for the general vibes I was going for 🤔

EITHER WAY! Very fun.. 10/10 would recommend trying to stretch yourselves into doing something something similar, I had a blast!

I think I covered a fair amount of questions n' stuff but feel free to ask anything else! ILY 🧡🧡

[strifetxt]

i get that wild life (and secret life before it) are very different from life series past in that the mechanics are very front and center, and i understand the frustration that causes when part of what tumblr fandom in particular really loves about the series is the social dynamics! i get it, i really do.

but i think at this point, unfortunately, they can't really just do a pure social game anymore in the same way? this group of creators knows each other very well at this point! they've learned the patterns, both of the game and of each other! the social game just isn't going to work as effectively for any of them! there's only so many ways they can do "normal semi-hardcore survival until we all start killing each other", at the end of the day.

that's the reason why they need the gimmicks to be more intrusive. yes, maybe they get in the way of the "typical" progression of a life series, with base building and alliance forming and such, but like. the ccs have done that all before, several times over. the gimmicks give them something different to interact with that isn't just each other, which makes it easier for them to make videos that are new and interesting to a wider audience.

and to the people saying that it gives them no time to build a narrative and form character arcs--isn't the fact that things are different now an interesting narrative in and of itself? isn't it interesting to see the ways in which these characters react when faced with each new bizarre situation? the way that several different crumbling relationships had to be put on pause this past session because everyone had to focus on a threat bigger than themselves?

ultimately, this new style of life series might not be your cup of tea, and that's completely okay. or maybe the snail gimmick felt too unfair; i definitely think grian maybe underestimated the impact that they'd have, which explains the much shorter session. i do personally hope that the next wild card is one that gives the players some more room to breathe, considering how many of them talked about how stressful this last one was. but like. i've seen multiple posts taking this whole thing in bad faith and saying that the gimmicks are proof that the life series is just becoming a soulless content mill and that it's clearly a sign of corporate greed, and like? i mean, putting aside the fact that this is their job, and they do have to make their videos get views to secure their livelihoods (which is hardly 1% bourgeois living, to be clear), at the end of the day, i'm pretty sure grian's just trying to strike a balance between making the series fun to watch, and making sure it stays fun for his friends to play.

[beanarie]

inspired by this post by @epiphainie and people's awesome tags on it.

the messenger

The buzzer rang five minutes after Evan's text (Just coming back from our last call. Thank God. Not even stopping to shower I am outta here. See you in 20. 15 if I gun it. Start getting those clothes off.)

"Hello?" Tommy said, pressing the button. "Is someone there?"

"Oh, Tommy. I didn't even- Good." Something crackled on the other end. "Sorry, it's uh. It's Maddie."

Well, it was hardly his gate to keep. Tommy redid the buttons on his shirt. "Come on up."

Maddie arrived with Jee-Yun on her hip. She still had her work shirt on and she was mostly looking everywhere but him.

"Hi," he said, curiosity shifting to concern. He hadn't spent much time with the Han family unit. Not long after he and Evan became official, Maddie and Howie rescued a traumatized child from a group home and their free moments then went towards maintaining the connection between her and the parents she'd been ripped from, aka Hen and her wife Karen. But from what he'd heard about her, Jee-Yun seemed uncharacteristically subdued. Feeding off her mom, perhaps. "He's not back yet."

She looked up at him, very briefly, just long enough to give a good view of her reddened eyes. "Right. They're pretty much done. I asked Howie to meet us here."

She set Jee-Yun up on the easy chair with a coloring book and markers, then kissed her cheek. "Draw Mommy a nice picture, okay?"

Tommy ducked his head as she approached the kitchen, conscious of their differences in height. "Maddie?"

She took in a sharp breath, her eyes bright as she raised one hand. "I'm sorry. I'd tell you. I'd just hate to have to keep saying it."

"Okay." He touched her shoulder and left his hand there a moment. "I think there's... tea?" She was already too brittle and fragile for alcohol.

She nodded gratefully, her gaze going toward the kid quietly marking up a page of farm animals as he retreated to the cabinets. He thought about Howie's brother, Alfred- no Albert. His name came up occasionally in group conversations. He'd couch-surfed through the family, becoming a firefighter himself until he realized that being barely legal to drink and loving his hero brother weren't good enough reasons to stay at a job that didn't do it for him. After resigning, he'd gone back to Korea.

Tommy didn't ask. Asking would force her to answer.

He thought of some other names, which he also did not bring up.

They each had a mug of vanilla chai, which Evan never touched but Tommy loved. Tommy sipped his. Maddie only stared at hers. The door opened, letting in good-natured smack talk.

"Look, all I'm saying is, if it actually had been a rottweiler, you would've finished the call on the other side of the street."

"Okay, okay, Mr. I didn't enter the tiger apartment until Chimney tranqed it."

Tommy wondered at the logistics, whether Maddie's request of Howie arrived before Evan fled the station house, or if the two of them surprised each other by making it to Evan's building at the same time. Maddie breathed in, letting the motion straighten her posture, and stepped away from the counter.

"You didn't enter until after that, either!" Evan turned away from Howie and the grin fell from his face. "Maddie? What's going on?"

Howie glanced at Tommy, who gave a tiny shrug.

She took Evan's hand. "Buck," she said. "Come sit down."

Tommy discarded several names as Howie came and stood next to him.

Maddie sat next to Evan at the table, both of her hands covering his. "Mom called me about an hour ago from the hospital. Dad had been having some chest pain and they found a severe blockage. They went in for a double bypass, but-"

"But what?" Evan asked quietly.

Her face crumpled. "Something went wrong during surgery and they couldn't stop the bleeding." She removed one of her hands from his to stifle a sob. "Dad's gone."

"Shit," Howie whispered.

Maddie shifted the angle of her chair and leaned forward to throw her arms around Evan's neck. After a second or two of shellshock, he returned the embrace, tightening his grip around her. When he met Tommy's gaze, he didn't look sad, or angry. He just looked lost.

"Daddy!" Jee-Yun cried, making the entire room flinch, right before she launched herself at Howie.

[enviedear]

I've thought of more things!! Imagine Jason coming into your little farm shop all red faced and sweaty from the heat outside. He looks a little ticked off. Probably because he had to drive aallll the way over here for one item. His sleeves are rolled up and when lifts his arm to brush back his sweatlicked hair and adjust his hat you notice the beginnings of a farm tan. You try not to stare, but goodness gracious how can you not? Ticked off is a good look on him. Maybe you offer him a cool glass of water because there isn't anyone else in the store and you're dead bored. His brows smooth out a little seeing you and now his cheeks are red for a different reason. Tehe Imagine him being the talk of the town. Not because he is tall and a ruggedly handsome city boy, but because everyone already knows he is a giant teddy bear. I mean, yeah sure, he is intimidating and everything. But everyone is so friendly they walked up to him regardless and figured it out pretty quick even if Jason sticks to himself. They know he has a kind heart and it helps he is a hard worker. I think that would be the biggest shock to him. The way everyone is so friendly. He'd be like, "??? this is normal?" Subsequently, imagine you want an excuse to see Jason out of the store. Your work clothes aren't exactly the most flattering and even if your confidence in your appearance isn't very high you still want to wear something a little different. So, the giddy thought of will he even notice? bounces around in your mind as you pull up to his home wanting to borrow a cup of sugar or ask if he has seen your run away cow in his fields? You haven't decided on the excuse yet. accidentally asking if you could borrow a cup of him totally wouldn't mortify you. no definitely not. Imagine inviting him over to your place because he is having trouble with his tomatoes and you offered to show him how you keep yours alive. He ends up spending the entire day with you because you have such a pretty garden and he is genuinely impressed and a little jealous. Sorry for sending two so soon. I just love farmer!Jason >//<

i love all of this omg!!! reader showing off her tomatoes as they should!!! i just know jason would go back to his tomatoes and sigh. LMAO also...he's getting reader's number and shooting them at text at 7am (he wakes up a 5, forgive him) asking about tips for the grapes he's trying to grow. so cute. os uber cute—i can't!!!

[dayxero]

TL;DR - Because a relationship between two or more people, defined by falsities, isn't what the average person wants.

-Because for most people, the mask they wear, isn't their true self. Its the face they wear, the expressions they show, the impression they put on to hide who they really are underneath and how they really feel. The desire to peel back this layer to reveal what's underneath typically, at least from my experience and from what others have said and said themselves or told me, it comes down to two major reasons.

-1: People who are used to putting up a front because those around them, cannot or choose not to understand them. This situation can make a person feel so utterly and profoundly lonely that it often times draws them into dark or unsettling places within their own minds. Just to be noticed or accepted or to avoid shame or being rejected, the mask remains, but it means that person rarely, if ever, gets to express who they truly are, unabashedly. Sure, anyone with a high sense of self worth or a massive ego would respond to such a notion with something along the lines of "Just be yourself, no matter what happens." But our lives are filled with so many different various different connections, relationships and circumstances that many times, the average person can't afford to be themselves 100% without consequence. The desire to see characters have their masks peeled back to expose who they truly are underneath and be accepted for it, is a primal urge we all seek in one form or another. We want to be loved, seen, valued for both our benefits and our faults. But many times, many people cannot truly express their true selves to even begin to make that connection with someone else and thus, the deep desire to live vicariously through other characters experiencing such a thing is born within those types of people. The desire to tear off their own masks, completely without fear and to be accepted for it, is also what they want from characters they like and can relate to, who are also doing the same thing as them

-2: This is more outwardly in a way and a bit more complicated but ultimately just an inverse of 1. When a person is trying to form a connection with someone they're being open and honest with, be it friendship, partnership, romantic, etc, that person instinctively wants the other to also be willing to share nearly the same level of forwardness, honesty and transparency. Its innate.

-Now of course I need to preface this by saying everyone has a right to withhold aspects of themselves they don't wish to share. If they so choose, maintain as much privacy about yourself as they want. And furthermore, no one is entitled to the same level of trust and affection offered by someone else.

-In spite of that however, attempting to form a bond with someone, one that is genuine and respectful and direct, only to receive lies, falsities and deceit from that other person, isn't exactly a good feeling. People who are trying to connect with others don't enjoy being lied to, pushed away or led down fake paths because they want a real connection, and this also bleeds into what they're reading/watching. When they see a character trying to form a connection with others, create barriers and hide who they really are and their real intentions, all the viewer can see is someone who is a self-prophesied failure in their own desires. A character that truly manifests the concept of genuine victimhood where they desire one thing but actively create the very same problems that causes their own suffering and misfortune, but still crave empathy and sympathy. That level of self-destruction can be very annoying to watch for people who've reached a certain state of self-awareness and maturity for a wide variety of reasons.

-There is a number 3 as well but I think this is too long and too deep as well for a post like this. If could be one for venting, or one seeking a genuine curiosity, don't know. However since the thought was put out into the ether, I responded to it in kind. But anyways, that's at least 2 out of the 3 major reasons I've personally seen as to why people prefer relationships between characters who remove their masks and show who they really are, than characters who base a connection off of falsehoods to hide aspects of themselves from the world and people around them.

personally I do not understand the obsession with revealing whats underneath the mask a character wears all the time. as far as I’m concerned that mask IS their face. do NOT peel them. that’s the same as the beast from beauty and the beast turning into just some guy at the end

[babyangelsky]

Faith as a love language and why I want Ju Yeong to give Do Hoe his cross necklace

Let me preface this by saying that one, my interpretations are drawn heavily from my own personal experience as well as the culture I was raised in and two, that this is going to be very rambly and maybe not make a whole lot of sense to anyone but me. But @respectthepetty encouraged me to get this out of my brain so here we are.

In order to explain what I mean in the title of this post and actually get into the meat of it, there's two other things I need explain first. There are layers to this so please bear with me.

The first thing is that I am not and have never really been a practicing Catholic. I believe in god and have a very loose, very personal system of spiritual belief but I am not religious. My grandmother is Catholic however, a very devout one, and since she helped to raise me I would say I was partially raised Catholic. Emphasis on the partially because my beautiful mother in her infinite wisdom (and due entirely to her own religious trauma) felt it was important to give me a choice on the matter and figure out my faith for myself, which I love her dearly for.

(She also once infamously refused to kiss the ring of the local very important priest in the village she grew up in which is one of my favorite things about her)

However, I've learned that even if you are given a choice on whether or not religion will play any part in your life, that does not save you from developing religious trauma. Especially if you also happen to be queer and especially if you don't adhere dogmatically to the widely accepted--and arbitrary--set of rules that determine whether you are considered a "good (insert faith here)".

The second thing has to do with cross necklaces and why being given one is a very specific loving gesture.

I lived in Mexico for a while a couple of years ago. On the day that I was due to come back to the States, my grandma gave me a cross necklace. She didn't just give me a cross necklace, she gave me her necklace that had been custom made for her. She wanted me to have a safe flight and get home in one piece so she gave it to me.

I have worn that necklace every single day for the past two years. If I happen to wear another necklace for outfit reasons, I put my cross in my pocket. It's always around my neck or on my body. Always. And the thing is, I don't wear it to signify my belief god.

In the broader sense of faith and what it means to people, giving someone a necklace like that holds a lot of weight. Taking something off of your body, your 'self', that you trust to keep you safe and that represents your faith and your beliefs and then putting it on someone you love to keep them safe is such a visceral expression of love. It becomes a symbol of faith in a different way.

As I've established, I'm not devout like my grandma is. The necklace doesn't represent to me what it does to her. I wear it because doing so makes me feel loved and safe because she gave it to me, not because I have faith of my own.

Now, having said allllll of that.

Ju Yeong's cross necklace has been established to primarily represent not his faith, but his family's expectations. Expectations that he hasn't lived up to and that have turned that cross into a heavy symbol of his failure that keeps him shackled at all times except when he chooses to take it off. And when he chooses to take it off matters.

He took it off when he confessed to Do Hoe and again when he slept with him because in those moments he wants to be free of that burden, free of those expectations, free to just love Do Hoe without having to think about anything else. Not even god.

Because even if the necklace isn't primarily a symbol of Ju Yeong's faith, it still is a symbol of his faith or rather, the faith that he had no choice but to adhere to when he became a pastor's son. That's what makes Do Hoe misunderstand what it means for Ju Yeong to take it off when he's with him. He interprets it as Ju Yeong being ashamed, as wanting to hide his sin, as only allowing himself to love Do Hoe when god isn't watching. He's wrong, of course, but he doesn't know that. Yet. (Petty explained it better go read that post)

We haven't really gotten into Ju Yeong's relationship with his faith and with only two episodes left I don't think we will, and that's a shame because I think recontextualizing what the necklace means to him and what his faith means to him would help him heal.

(Which is something I believe anyone who has religious trauma should do at some point in their life, especially if they're queer. Religion is so often weaponized against people and something that's used to make them feel inadequate and ashamed and like they aren't allowed to draw comfort from it unless they fall in line with what it asks of them. We always think of it being used that way specifically against queer people but that isn't always the case. I'm not out to my family and I once had a relative look me in the eyes and tell me I was going to hell for not going to mass.)

Really it would help both of them heal because even though Do Hoe wasn't the one with the religious upbringing, the necklace is still making him feel the same sort of inadequacy and shame he thinks Ju Yeong feels.

Which is why I want Ju Yeong to give Do Hoe his cross necklace.

Recontextualizing what it means, allowing it to be a symbol of his faith and nothing more, and making the conscious decision to take it off of his body and put it on Do Hoe so Do Hoe knows that he's loved without shame would mean everything to me personally.

Faith is a love language. It's why Mexican mothers pin medals with the Virgin of Guadalupe on them to their newborns' onesies, why parents choose auspicious names for their babies, why the very first prayer Christian and Catholic children are taught is the guardian angel prayer, why grandmothers do the sign of the cross over their children and grandchildren and end every conversation with "que dios te acompañe", and why we put crosses on the people we love.

[kingmaxstatic]

Mainly putting this on my main blog because F/Ovember is currently happening on @staticshipstation (check that out btw)

But one of the reasons I have “if you villainize Amanda/Wooly DNI” is not only because.. well they’re my kids and I adore them. Like these are not villains these are my beautiful imperfect children.

But also because honestly?… I think it’d really hurt the story if either turned out to be true.

One of the reasons I love and adore ATA is its story and how fucking tragic and almost real it is. Guy with genuine heart and ambition wants to achieve his dreams (Sam) but some fuckass corporation taints his goal of wanting to help children (Hamlen). It’s the story of a shitty company doing shitty things to people who don’t deserve it.

And I’m sorry but having the wrench of “OH YEAH AND ALSO THE LITTLE GIRL/SHEEP ARE EVIL!!!” Is.. so out there and would honestly just be really awkward in the story.

Like are Wooly and Amanda perfect? By all means no. But people are acting like Wooly is some Disney twist villain from the 2010s or that Amanda is some spoiled brat. When the reality is that both of them, to an extent, are victims.

They just deal with their traumas VERY VERY differently.

Amanda keeps being invasive and even aggressive at times. This anger is justified, by all means, Jesus Christ. She deserves to be angry. But at the same time that doesn’t negate the fact she’s hurt people doing this, though it’s important to note that doesn’t mean her own pain doesn’t valid. Wooly tends to bootle shit up and push it to the side. When something in his so obviously wrong in front of him he hides it so deep. He’s scared it might trigger something and that he might get hurt.

These characters and the dynamic is just so deep and complex that the sudden twist of “OH AND WOOLY WAS WORKING FOR HAMLEN THE WHOLE TOME >:D!!” Or “AMANDA WAS ACTUALLY TRYING TO KILL YOU!!” In my opinion, minimizes everything set up.

I want to end this off by saying that anyone is valid for believing these theories, despite my qualms with them, I can understand how people came to these conclusions… however it’s just not content I really want to engage with personally.

[evenmorefatallyobsessed]

Hey so to anyone whose ever wondered why I like Jaune I could probably give a good amount of reasons.

From his knight aesthetic, to him not being a Gary Stu, but a very flawed, believable character whose trying to improve himself. Hell I LOVE that he is a reference to Joan of Arc.

That he's not classically played masculine, but also isn't portrayed effeminate or flamboyant to oppose it either. I like that Jaune feels like someone who at a glance could be from a earth.

He feels like he was a Civilian, and you know what, I also have a weakness for blue eyed blondes... Maybe that's why I Love the idea of there being a whole family of them.

Heck conceptionally Jaune has a lot in common with the stereotypical Shonen protagonist... But then again so does Ruby and Yang. And Blake fit the more edgy manga Protags...

But if I had to name one thing I like about Jaune, even more then his determination/ Willpower (Stubbornness when it's misdirected like it was in Jaunedice)

I think what I like most is, well... That Jaune is arguably the bravest character in RWBY (Oscar could be argued to be that too though)

Let me explain, so... Everyone else in Beacon is different then Jaune mentally. And the reason is simple. a combination of their aura and training...

All the main cast besides Jaune were overpowered teenagers with strength like Captain America. And there in lies the reason.

They don't view things the same way Jaune does, in the Red Trailer, we literally see Ruby tear apart a horde of Beowulves in minutes on the way to visit her mother's grave. Which implies she does this regularly on said trek.

Now for those watching we gain the same mentality and understanding as the girls of RWBY. Beowulves aren't that strong, their mobs... Weak, easy to beat and need big numbers to be even a bit challenging.

But if you simply look at them, compare them to Ruby... Every Beowulve is a freaking WEREWOLF!!!

That is fucking terrifying, take away the aura and that is a brickshitting situation Ruby is in. But to her it's really not, because she has spent her whole life killing these things to the point where she can do so effortlessly.

Hell we see this again in Yang when she literally doesn't just enter a fight with a gang of known armed criminals but starts it! Literally grabbing the kingpin by the balls.

Which, why wouldn't she, she punches fucking armored Grizzly bears to death. And so everyone one of JNPR and RWBY outside of Jaune look at Grimm and Criminals in the sense of...

Oh neat, a bad guy, let's kill/ beat them up...

When their being fired at their not thinking they could get shot, NO! Their thinking it's okay to get shot a few times cuz they have aura that'll protect them.

And that's why Jaune is so brave, he went to Beacon as a civilian, unaware of aura. Now stop and think about how far behind Jaune was actually in his own mind.

Because remember, he didn't know about aura, the stuff that lets everyone else be so OP. Jaune fought a Ursa Major and killed it without prior training and wasn't using aura techniques, he had enough physical prowess and strength to cleave through it in a single shot...

A literal Marine couldn't do that... But Jaune did, if it were a world without aura, Jaune would've easily been one of the physically strongest people. But because aura existed, people who were trained their entire lives with it are worlds apart above him.

But my point is this, everyone else isn't so much brave as confident and in Yang and Weiss's cases moreso arrogant. Ruby looked at a Goliath while she was in Mt. Glenn and her first thought was to go and kill it... That thing was a fucking Kaiju. And she wasn't scared of it, oh no she was excited to kill it!

Initiation was literally fun for Yang, she had a blast during it, Nora too, Blake wasn't concerned and until she was forced to ride a Nevermore Weiss was so at ease that she was willing to strike out on her own instead of teaming up with someone else, not once but twice.

But Jaune is different, to him, a Beowulf is a monster that can kill him in a single strike...A Ursa is a beast that could kill the strongest men... A single attack could end you life...

And yet he was still willing to take initiation, there was no second chances, or magic barrier to protect him, hell he didn't even have a gun.

Dude was gonna fight bears and Werewolfs with a sword and shield. In his mind a single blow would kill him, this wasn't fun, this wasn't exciting or something to be taken lightly.

It was a life or death struggle, and just because Pyrrha gave him aura doesn't mean that mentality magically goes away. No to Jaune Grimm still are threat, it why he shows nervousness when fighting them unlike everyone else.

But he still does... everyone else fights Grimm like it's a game or chore. But to Jaune he is actually fighting for his life, these things scare him, fighting scares him, and mentally he is still very much leaning more towards civilian.

But it's because of that that when he fights he is being braver then all the others. Not to say their cowards though.

I think ultimately that's why I like Jaune most, because I never stop realizing that he is fighting in a darksouls game while everyone else feels like their in DMC.

But despite that he doesn't hesitate to fight beside them, to try and help and is willingly putting his life on the line when everyone else is just having a easy run of it.

And I'd argue this is why Ozpin made him leader.

[zeestie]

dearest reader of this diary entry,

I am done suffering in my illusions, I have figured out what living presently actually means, killed my ego, understood the true meaning of manifesting, & stopped worrying about others.

let me explain...

PHASE I: TRIGGER

a while ago I went through something that triggered me A LOT. I don't remember exactly what it was, that's just how insignificant 3d circumstances are but back then I am sure it meant a lot as I was so triggered, angry and frustrated. then I decided to meditate, so I opened a 369 hz pure tone and I just lied down, relaxed, and focused on.. nothing.

that experience has been so simple, yet so profound. I don't feel like the same person before that. when I woke up, the reality I was in didn't feel the same either. everything moved different and felt different. and I was no exception.

I have always prided myself on being an optimist, and yeah I have always been one; however, I have only been the hopeful optimist.

whearas before my optimism has been born out of hope for better, now my optimism is not out of a need but comes from pure love and acceptance for the now cos ik for a fact that I have myself, god, and everything I would ever need to be happy.

I really feel no need to try any more, I just go for what I want, that's it. and that's why I have been very connected to my creative endeavours these past few days. whether being through being active here and on YT or through drawing and writing in my free time, I love creating and I am so glad I realised that instead of indulgence in the material world.

PHASE II: KNOWLEDGE

ever since that incident, I feel like I have started to understand what life is truly about. life is not about desiring and chasing after a goal, it's not about trying so hard, it is not about waiting for better, it is about living it now. becoming okay with what's happening now, not forcing a certain outcome but letting life take its course.

it might sound weird to say that as an loa girlie, but srsly, this is what manifesting is really about. it is about knowing, not desiring. it is about rising above the need for your desires to materialise. ik for a fact that I manifested the perfect life for myself so why would I desire more? doesn't make sense at all.

at first, I approached manifesting from a place of trying and systemised it the way I did with every goal I had in life, "affirm X times a day," "visualise every night," "do X rampages a week." I was too dependent on techniques, but now I understand that techniques are not here to help you manifest, cos it is all done anyway. techniques are here to remind you of the fact that you truly manifested it. it is here to calm you down and remind you of your power.

now, I only use techniques when it feels right, I am not forcing them esp. when my thoughts and feelings are already aligned to what I want. if I am already living as the version of me that has it, why would I do more? I don't need to do more, I just am.

and ofc now that I have changed, I have stopped being so attached to wtv idea I had of me or what other people have of me. I can be whomever I want & me separating myself from my ego helped me really see how I was stuck in narratives that didn't serve me and kept me stuck.

PHASE III: CHANGE

two weeks ago I created a some sort of character sheet of dream me, the next day I became her. I could have been like, "this is not gonna happen overnight" but why? the reason it can't happen is because i was against it & the only reason I would be against it was cos I am too attached to an idea of who I am. but thankfully, I am not any more.

I embrace the qualities I already liked about myself and as for what I didn't like about myself? I don't reject it, I am just simply not it any more. I don't need to force it, I just select the identity I like and that's it. before, my ego would not let me, cos selecting the dream me means forgiving those who I didn't seem deserve forgiveness or leave some of my "very important" past behind.

it also meant that I can't use my past or who I was as an excuse for how I acted, but when I used to always excuse myself, it somehow felt v punishing, like I have been punishing myself by staying this unfavorable version of me because I am not ready to let go of my history. it felt like I didn't trust me enough to change once and for all.

to become a blank slate was terrifying to my ego. but I am not my ego. I and you both know that. my ego can be scared and I will reassure her a million times over if that's what it takes, but I am not folding. just like a parent who knows what's best for their child. even if the child screams in retaliation, the adult comforts them but doesn't bend the rules cos they know what's best for their child.

PHASE IV: TRUTH

I have been neglecting and neglected by myself every time I chose my ego's or other people's comfort. but I am not doing that again any more.

we all understand that others are just mirrors of what we think of them so that's why I couldn't care less about how I come across any more. others can judge but I have decided that none will. others will see me change over and over and will welcome any change I take on, every single time, I have decided that.

since these realisations, life felt sm simpler to live, the pressure of being a certain person in front of others has subsided. the need to stay my "consistent" (more so predictable) self is non-existent. and the need for life to go a certain way has also faded. a lot of beautiful things came about after this change and I am so glad to live every day with the ability to choose my own joy and peace, not waiting for someone or something to make me happy.

rn I am grateful to have realised all of that, to have transcended this physical plane and to have chosen to live as a soul who chose to live this human life. souls full of love and light, that is our true essence.

✦°·

[certifiedsexed]

I don't know if this is gross or common knowledge but, why does my underwear get yellow stains over time? I've noticed that it doesn't always happen with every one (maybe because of different materials??) and that it used to happen a lot more when I was younger (I think it doesn't happen that often now but still). Could it be because of the urine or discharge?? They also usually stay even after washing them 😓

Not gross and also, not common knowledge depending on your living situation! No worries, I love answering questions, Anon.

There are several reasons possible for yellow stains in underwear. The most common is vaginal discharge, which can permanently stain fabric, especially overtime.

Depending on the color of your underwear, sometimes the PH of your vaginal discharge isn't perfectly ideal and that can cause a yellow-ish color. [Especially with yeast infections, I believe.]

Even just vaginal discharge mixing with sweat can cause yellow stains.

Another common reason is just sweat! Sweat can also stain underwear, specifically yellow, especially overtime! It could be urine as well, though that's usually more noticable (as in, urine gets very uncomfortable fast usually and has a very specific scent)

It's not at all uncommon, if you're wondering. Yellow stains on underwear happen! And they can be hard to get out. [Depending on the color, bleaching or using stain remover can help though!]

If you don't want yellow stains at all, you could try pantyliners and see how those work! They're made for things like this. But it's also okay to have some underwear with stains, it happens and its more common than you'd think.

Hope this helps! Let me know if you have any other questions. <3