#god I try not to get mad but it's so incredibly frustrating that some of you will genuinely choose to play blind for this

[suzukiblu]

Day twenty-seven of “obligatory sugar baby Kon” behind the cut. prev: (( chrono || non-chrono ))

They spend a lot longer than Tim actually expects Kon to want to spend on that “couple things”, since obviously they can’t start with the exciting stuff and he just assumes Kon will get bored in about thirty seconds’ worth of Tim Drake’s awkward and over-detailed explanations of every little thing and also will experience immediate regret about admitting that he both doesn’t know how to do something and isn’t going to be immediately good at said something. Any time Kon’s not immediately good at something they’re doing in training he gets mad or pissy or at least frustrated and acts like a total asshole about it, but right now . . . 

Kon falls off the board and lands on his ass for the third time and for the third time just grins up at him sheepishly, and Tim feels very weird and not-normal and sort of just–smitten about it, really. 

“This is way different from surfing,” Kon says with a laugh, shaking his head, which is a little surprising to hear for some reason. If nothing else, Tim would’ve expected Kon to get even more frustrated, if he was assuming any apparent surfing experience might’ve helped him out here. He has heard it usually does, so maybe Kon’s just out of practice or his own standards are just, uh–a little too Bat, maybe. 

“Is it?” he asks, offering Kon a hand up again. Kon did it for him earlier, and anyway, it kinda makes him feel like carrying the other’s bags for him and being trusted with his weight feels. And Kon takes his hand, just like the last two times, and lets him help him up like there’s literally any reason he needs to bother to. “I’ve never tried surfing.” 

“It’s wicked,” Kon says, grinning at him again and giving his hands a quick squeeze before heading over to retrieve the board from where it skidded when he fell. He does not fall like a Bat, but he definitely does know how to. He’s just also clearly expecting his falls to be more of a “terminal velocity” situation than a “tripping off a skateboard” situation. Which, like–fair, yeah. “You gotta use your arms way more, though, and like, it just feels way more like you’re riding something, you know? Concrete just kinda sits there and there’s way less wind to worry about.” 

“Oh, yeah, I never really thought about the wind,” Tim says. Waves, definitely, but he didn’t follow the thought to its logical conclusion. “Pretty sure people based skateboarding on surfing to start, though, so is it really that different? Like, mechanically?” 

“I dunno,” Kon says with a shrug, tucking the board under his arm and trotting back over to him. “I mean, kinda? But also wheels are way harder to feel the ground through ‘cuz they’re spinning the whole time, so sometimes I get dizzy if I hold onto ‘em too much. And like, water moves a lot more than concrete, but the board’s totally flat against it, so like–easier to feel it, I guess? Just feels, like, more intense, kinda.” 

“. . . that’s really interesting, but are you seriously trying to use your TTK when you skate?” Tim asks, trying not to laugh at the idea even though he definitely should’ve expected it. “You’re such a cheater.” 

“Hey, I use TTK when I everything, thanks, and it’s not cheating!” Kon protests with another laugh, which is definitely not the way Superboy would’ve responded to Robin saying something like that. “You’re not cheating when you use your friggin’ ears and eyes, are you?” 

“Oh, blind skateboarding, that sounds terrifying,” Tim muses, and Kon laughs again. 

“I’d die! You’d die!” he says, sounding incredibly delighted about the prospect. 

“So I’m hearing we start with the low ramps, then,” Tim replies reasonably. 

“Oh my god, Tim,” Kon cackles, and then ducks in close to throw his free arm around his neck and kiss him again, his TTK wrapping around him for just a quick flash of pressure of its own. 

Tim feels–very weird, again. 

Specifically, he feels very weird hearing Kon’s voice saying his real name, especially right before kissing him. Kissing him, and also wrapping him up completely in the power he just identified as being as important and natural to him as his hearing and vision and, presumably, any other senses are. 

And again, Kon is clearly really, really tactile, so that’s hard not to be weird about too. 

Kon leans back, back to grinning at him, and Tim feels vaguely mortified and vaguely like eating him alive and also like this date has gone absolutely nothing like he planned, despite his best efforts. Kon brought him a present and he hasn’t bought Kon anything but an amount of grilled cheese sandwiches that can only be described as “inadvisable” and has in fact spent way more money on himself than he has on Kon, plus they’ve spent basically the whole date so far doing things he likes, not– 

“Um, just in case like a building collapses or a supervillain happens or whatever and I gotta run off early, um . . . thanks. For tonight, I mean,” Kon says, the grin he’s barely dropped briefly slipping into something a little shyer, and Tim stares blankly at him for a moment and feels like an insane person, or at least like he maybe just hallucinated that. “I’m really having fun.” 

Tim needs to check on the possibility of hallucinations, yeah. 

“You are?” he asks, fully bewildered by the idea, and Kon laughs again. 

“Obviously, you frickin’ nerd!” he says, then gives him a quick, sheepish smile and another peck on the cheek before turning that almost-inhuman shade of red again and pulling back, putting the board in front of himself and between them. Tim gently simmers to a boil and breaks down into a broth as every single ounce of meat in his body falls right off the bone. “I always have fun with you.” 

. . . Tim is maybe less a broth and now more, like, a stew that somebody left in the crockpot all day, or however Mrs. Mac used to do it. 

“Oh,” he says, desperately trying to remember how to string a functional sentence together that does not sound like a dropped typewriter. “Uh–good! Good. Um–I’m glad. Good. Me, uh–me too.” 

Kon blushes even darker and grins at him again, rocking back on his heels for a moment. 

“Cool,” he says. “Um–thanks, Tim. Again. Some more. I dunno.” 

Tim, again, feels very weird about hearing Kon say his real name, and some part of him kind of thinks, in an odd and distant way–did he just, like . . . forget how to just . . . not be Robin? Like–how to turn it off, and just feel the actually genuine things as Tim Drake, and not just the mask or the sidekick or the namesake? 

Well, that can’t be good. 

Kon keeps grinning at him, half-shadowed in the Gotham night and half-lit by electric Gotham streetlights and looking nothing like anything else Tim’s ever seen in Gotham, and Tim is definitely going to need to pencil in a couple hours on Sunday night to be an incoherent mess about him and also maybe, like . . . process some things, maybe. Think some stuff through. Adjust some– 

“So like, wanna go make out for a while in the full pipe?” Kon suggests hopefully, tipping his head towards it, and Tim forgets literally every single layer of other thoughts he was having. They are literally no longer relevant to anything and he does not care about a single one of them. 

“Yeah, okay,” he says, maybe a little too red himself now, and Kon grins. 

The full pipe helpfully informs them both that Tim can, in fact, give Kon a hickey if the other lets him, and helpfully informs Tim that he is never, ever going to be able to be in the same tri-state area as a mind-reader again. 

Well, he should probably be avoiding those for the next fifteen years anyway, so whatever.

[boyapologist]

I should've anticipated I'd get some rancid ass takes on the notes of my poll lol

[un-lawliet]

I recently found your blog and <3

I’ve been having some health issues lately and have been struggling so I decided to leave a request! Obviously don’t feel pressured to write! If the prompt doesn’t stick feel free to ignore!

High school Satoru X female reader who had a crush on him in for ages but she’s so shy and Gojos so popular so they don’t really interact. BUT she decides to bake him sweets and leave them on his desk and somehow he finds out it was her and asks her on a date.

CHEESY I KNOW >~< I feel like we don’t have enough fics of reader being head over heels in love with Gojo and it’s a must!

ANYWAY- again this is a ramble feel free to ignore MWAH

hi anon !!! id absolutely LOVE to write this ITS NO PRESSURE AT ALL :) thank you so so so much for the request- i hope you’re ok ! and i’m always here incase u need to talk <3

“Pretty.”

— in which Gojo has a secret admirer.

“Did you hear? Satoru Gojo has a secret admirer.”

“Oh Yea? Who?”

“Dunno, ‘pparently he’s going mad tryna find ‘em though.”

…

Your face was definitely burning, hands sweating and jaw clenched as you listen to the chatter of your classmates. Their voices morphing into the background of your busy mind, blending seamlessly into the slight disarray of (as you would describe it) your dire situation.

Blinking, you raise your hand to scratch the base of your neck, trying to pull yourself together less you reveal your crimes of admiration out-loud to classroom full of people who barely knew of your name.

You could see him, from where you sat, hunched over in your seat at the back of the classroom, your eyes squinted ever so slightly as the unforgiving sun spread her light through the window, gracefully imposing on your face falling directly into your peering eyes.

Leaning against the smudged glass of the vending machine, he had his head tilted back, laughing boisterously at a joke from his friend (the one who was always trying to hide the smoke from her lit cigarette)

In one hand you could see a can of soda you knew was far too sweet for anyone but himself, and in the other, you saw the small tin, decorated with the white and yellow details of pretty flowers and bee’s. Lid concealing the sweets in which you had baked just a day prior, sweets that you had hoped would act as a silent confession of your- oh you’re blushing again.

Your feelings for Satoru Gojo were undeniable, however unspoken. And you doubt you would ever get to a point where you would voice them out-loud to anyone let alone Gojo himself.

But you are unfortunately, still human, and humans have a tendency to want to be acknowledged, and after years of harbouring unheard feelings for someone, the bitter grasp of your own human desire overpowered your confident resolve of silence.

And so, you left a tiny box of chocolates with a tiny pretty note tucked in the back, with a silently cheeky “Enjoy” written in pink pen.

Glancing over to the vending machine once more, you watched as Satoru Gojo waved a hand in-front of his face, pouting as he tried pathetically to dodge the smoke blown at him by his friend, who grinned cheekily in response, flicking the now finished bunt towards the ground and stepping on it, moving her foot side to side to kill the remains of the flame.

You smile.

You had met Gojo two years ago, but had known of him far longer.

In the words of yourself (and probably everyone else who knew him) he was the epitome of perfection. Good in class, the best in any sport he took up and God he was beautiful.

Everyone knew him, the exact opposite to you.

You who quietly stumbles around her own feet, and apologises for even the slightest thing, despite it mostly never being your fault.

You were incomprehensibly shy, and so incredibly frustrated with your own reticence.

And yet two years ago, Satoru Gojo had asked you for a pen, you for a pen.

He had leaned back in his chair, during your math class, turned his head and nudged you instead of everyone else around him.

A pretty grin on his face as he sheepishly explained that he forgot to bring his own, and you had stammered and nodded handing him a pen as you gently said “You can keep it for the rest of the day, I don’t mind.”

“Huh? You serious?” He had replied, his head cocking slightly eyes crinkling under his sun glasses.

“Yea? I mean uh- yes!” Looking away from his gaze shyly. “It’s just a pen you know? I have plenty.”

He laughed, and you couldn’t help but look right back at him, your heart basically stopping as he winked, right at you.

“Thanks pretty.”

And your sure you had died, right then and there. Watching the back of his head as he turned back around, uncapping your pen as he moved.

Since then, Gojo had always smiled at you when he saw you walking past, and always without fail, you would sheepishly smile back, the familiar feeling of butterflies tickling the confines of your stomach every damn time.

The shrill sound of the bell rang throughout the classroom, and you stand up, taking your books with you with a sigh.

The clatters of chairs and bags zipping filtered through your thoughts and pulled you out of your self induced daydreaming stupor, calling you to join the rest of your classmates in exiting the confines of your classroom.

You glance back out the window once more before you move towards the door, and instantly your eyebrows lifted and you almost loose grasp of your balance as Gojo Satoru stares right back at you.

Simultaneously he smiles, lifting a hand as if greeting you and you scramble away from the window, head down, entirely embarrassed.

Oh God, oh God, oh God.

Could you be anymore useless in your “acting cool” facade.

Ever since you had placed your sweets on Satoru Gojo’s desk you had been a nervous wreck, terrified that at any second your feelings would be exposed and the entire school would point and laugh at your sweaty, flushed face.

Sniffing, you rub your eyes with the heel of your hands, trailing behind your peers through the halls, on their way home.

The lockers were always so crowded at the end of the day and you hated it.

You had no group to hide you from the conversations involving Gojo and his “secret admirer” have to hear every single in and pretend not to care.

“It’s creepy don’t you think? I mean why not just tell him you like him?”

“Maybe they’re nervous?”

“Of course they are? It’s Satoru Gojo for Christ’s sake, man’s beautiful.”

You close your locker, clutching the books and papers you need for your later homework, your bag left abandoned on the floor beside you.

Turning to reach for your bag, you feel another student collide into you. Your books crash to the ground, and you stare mortified as pages fly out, scattering everywhere.

The student doesn’t stop, just calls out that he’s sorry and that he’s late for a bus, you sigh.

You have to drop out, you think, there’s no recovering from this.

You bend down, apologising quietly to those around you who just glanced at you and continued on their way, and start to gather all your papers and books, heat burning your face.

“You ok?” You heard him just before you saw him, his teasing voice making your hands shake.

Satoru Gojo stood, a smile on his face as he leaned down to get closer to you, your eyes widen and you lean back on your knees.

“Um, yea-Yes everything’s good here..just dropped my stuff..” You trail off and end your broken speech with a fake, ugly laugh, internally you die as he nods and bends down to help.

“No, no you really don’t have to do that, I can manage!” You exclaim, hands moving rapidly in-front of you and he just laughs.

“I don’t mind helping ya, ‘kay?” He’s picking up random papers, no longer looking at you, his eyes glossing over your hand writing- a cheeky grin that you do not see flickers across his face.

You’re in a trance, watching as Gojo helps you, jumping when he glances at you and catches you staring, you busy yourself with stacking your books back into your bag, “Ok well, If you’re sure.”

“M’sure.” He’s handing you a stack of papers, ‘I’m very sure.”

The locker area door closes, signalling the absence of everyone else, you gulp.

“Suprised nobody helped you.” Gojo muses, standing up and raising a hand for you to hold.

You blush as you grasp it, it’s warm, you hope your palms aren’t sweating.

“It’s home time, people wanna get home.” You smile, rising to your feet using his hand has leverage.

Gojo let’s his hold linger before he lets go, you don’t notice, too focused on readjusting your top, fiddling with the fabric.

His sunglasses fall down his nose a little revealing the crystallised blue of his eyes, you swear the light causes them to glow as it catches his pupil.

You smile, eyes corrugating with what you hope looks like appreciation.

“Thanks Gojo.” And he smiles right back at you.

“Hey you know..” Gojo says, turning to ruffle in his bag, your eyes follow his movements, you watch as he pulls out a familiar box.

“Someone left these in my desk this morning, they’re really good..You wanna try?”

Your heart stops in your chest.

Your sure you’re bloods turning blue in your arteries.

Act casual, casual Y/N.

“O-oh that’s nice of them.” You mumble, your voice breaking slightly.

He offers you the box again, shaking it slightly to entice you with your own chocolates.

“Um are you sure? I don’t wanna take something that was made for you..” You look away from his sweet face to stare at the floor, then the ceiling and then back to the floor, there’s a crack right below your shoe.

Someone should really fix that.

“Oh come on! They taste great.” He grins, taking a chocolate and popping it into his mouth, letting out a dramatic “Mmm” as he chews.

“I’m sure they are..” You scratch your arm and then move your hand to the box, reaching in.

Your chocolates do taste nice, but you knew that already. Your taste testers from yesterday remaining as memory to your taste buds.

“Well?” His voice is teasing again, and you smile at him.

“They’re delicious.”

“Mhm.. and you know what else?”

He’s leaning closer to you, you try to stop yourself from leaning away, pushing aside your inane awkwardness, willing yourself to stay where you stand.

“They left a note too, wrote it in a pretty pink pen.”

“Oh?..How, how very uh- nice? of them.” You’re scrambling for sentence structure, staring at his stupidly handsome face.

He takes a page from your arms, and turns it towards himself, then lifts your note from out of his pocket.

Your eyes widen in realisation, and you step back, head turning to the door.

“Oh well, I have to go haha..” You trail off, shoving your stuff in your bag and beginning to walk to the door.

“You made me chocolates?” He asks, and you freeze, your eyes falling back onto him, and the soft face he regards you with.

He had turned the note and your paper around, your handwriting obviously present on both, you chastise yourself for such a huge oversight.

How can you deny it now? Oh God He has you cornered.

Embarrassment bubbles in the back of your throat and you desperately try to explain.

“I’m sorry.” You blurt, hands reaching out in-front of you as if begging him to hear you out.

“Huh-”

You don’t let him finish.

“I didnt mean to come off creepy, it’s just I- Well I- I think you’re really sweet, and you- You smile at me..sometimes, I just wanted you to let you know? And I’m sorry for how-”

“Hey, hey, hey.” He says, his face falling, “You don’t need to apologise for nothing, I’m not mad.”

He walks towards you, “I’m just glad they came from you, that’s all.”

Hope? Is that what you’re feeling right now?

You dare to look at him, only to see him already looking at you.

“I-”

“I ‘smile at you sometimes’?” He nudges, “You made me chocolates cause I smile?”

“..It’s a very nice smile.” You reply, head dropping.

He’s laughing, it’s a sound that makes your heart flicker, and warms your chest, scarce of mocking you feel yourself breathe normally again.

Gojo tilts his head to look at you, his face glowing with joy, as he asks, “I was planning on going to the cafe just down the street..Wanna come?”

You pause.

“What.”

Standing up straight, he hands you the note and your papers, you hold them and stare.

“A date, I’m asking you on a date Y/N.”

Is this real?

Is this happening?

“Are you serious?” Your voice comes out shocked and slightly higher than normal, you don’t understand.

“They’re very nice sweets.” He repeats with a grin “And they come from a very nice girl no? Why wouldn’t I be serious?”

“I- I just-”

Gojo, pulls the strap of your bag off your shoulder and slings it over his own, walking towards the door.

“C’mon let’s go pretty.” And he’s looking back at you, waiting “Else you won’t have a bag for tomorrow.”

You jump and follow, eyes still wide and mouth slightly parted.

And Gojo pulls you towards him the second you get close enough to touch, grasping your hand and tugging you with him, a soft smile on his face as he does so.

All is well.

masterlist <3

feel free the leave a request <3

a/n : all is not well, i’m sick as all balls right now- thank you my dear for the request..i know it’s taken me about 58 years to write this but i hope you enjoy it <33 i loved writing it and sorry for the wait. i love you !!!

[ssentimentals]

seventeen members as love tropes: xu minghao

enemies to lovers

'you're not mine but wouldn't you want to be?'

minghao tries is hardest to stay calm but all these higher ups are making it really hard. he turns to look at you and the sight of your hunched back and bitten raw lips makes him boil. are you two friends? no, far from it. minghao is very aware of the whole 'enemies' agenda that is happening between you both, but does he want to see you like this? nervous, agitated, scared? no. fucking hell, no. he wants to see you burning with passion, wants to see that fire in your eyes whenever you two argue - minghao feels like he's been punched in the chest when he realizes that he's ready to kill just for you to not look this scared.

'can we wrap this up?' he voices out loud, not bothering to hide his annoyance. 'i don't see any point in this.'

'it'd be wise for you to be more polite and remember who you are talking to, xu minghao.'

he sees how you cringe at this, how your hands ball up into fists at the way that man spoke to him. understanding that you are angered on his behalf warms minghao up; it feels incredibly nice to know that you care. he keeps his mouth shut, lets managers drag on about the issue and takes two step in your direction, stopping when your shoulders brush. you tense up at first, sending him a questioning glance but he only stays put to which you reply with a rejected sigh. they lecture him and then start lecturing you and minghao can't just stand still when you're obviously fuming. they are being rude to you and the words are out of his mouth before he can think them through: 'don't talk to her like that.' your sharp intake of breath kind of wakes him up and he stares ahead at all the managers, who all look shell shocked.

'you have no right to talk to her like that.' minghao pushes in a clipped tone. 'she did her best and so did i, our timing got fucked up but it's not our fault. don't speak to her in that tone.'

shortly after you get pulled away by other people and minghao is in for another 30 minutes of lecturing. by the time he finally gets out of that stuffy room, he feels like he wasted ten years of his life on nothing. he sighs, stretches and is about to turn when soft steps stop him. he knows it's you even before you call out his name.

'why did you do that?' you ask, squinting at him. 'why the sudden hero act?'

'it wasn't an act,' he says, rolling his eyes. god, he's so tired. 'but you're welcome.'

'i haven't asked for it,' you spit out, obviously angered. 'i don't need your pity.'

minghao turns around, raising his eyebrow. 'i have never pitied you,' he says strongly, feeling himself getting worked up again as some stupid side effect on you being close. 'can't you just say 'thank you' and move on?'

'i don't need your help!' you hiss. 'i haven't asked for it!'

and - only you can make minghao want to both bang his head on the wall from frustration and laugh like a maniac. he sometimes wants to step closer, pull you into his arms and... he doesn't know. part of him wants to strangle you for being so damn difficult all the fucking time, but another part wants to smash your mouths together so you can finally shut up. minghao is aware of how unhealthy it is just as he is aware of how often your gaze falls on his lips or his biceps. it's good to know he's not the only one who's gone mad. they say it's a fine line between hatred and love and for minghao right now this line is so thin that he barely see it anymore. is it the same for you? he wants to ask, but instead he says: 'why you didn't stop me then? you always could just interrupt me over there but you didn't say a thing. if you don't need my help why i was the one who you turned to when authorities came? you didn't say anything but you searched for me with your eyes, don't even try to deny it.'

five steps. that's the distance that separates you two and minghao thinks it's fitting. he can take two and then you can take two and then maybe you'll play game of chicken on that last step. but you surprise him with taking all those five steps yourself, storming onto him with fire in your eyes that he loves so much. 'you're not the one to talk, minghao. you think i don't know that it was you who asked everyone to wait up for me? who brought medicine to my team when i fell sick?' you try to push him on his chest but minghao easily catches you wrist in his, not letting you move. 'let me go.'

'that's not what you want.' he says in a calm tone that doesn't show all the hurricane which's happening inside of him.

reality of how close you two are standing dawns on you. jerkily, you try to step back but his hold on you is too strong. 'let me go,' you whisper, voice wavering. 'hao, let me go.'

hao. 'that's not what you want,' minghao whispers and lets his other hand wrap around your waist, pulling you even closer to his chest. 'tell me what you really want, angel.' he sees how you shudder at the petname and smiles, leaning in. he lets go of your wrist, locking his arms around you instead. 'you can go if you want.' he leans in, brushing your noses together. 'or you can stay. and i can never, ever let you go. which i think is what you actually want.'

it's brave. it's bold, it's brazen and - it works. your body sags in his arms and you hide your face in his neck, hugging him back. 'prick,' you mutter into his neck, raising goosebumps where your lips touch his skin. 'self absorbed asshole.'

'yeah,' minghao easily agrees, hugging you tighter. 'prick, self absorbed asshole that will never, ever let you go.'

a/n: this one is a bit vague but i couldn't figure out how to write this for the live of me. i hope this was okay? let me know! - nini

my seventeen works are here

my formula 1 works are here

[suneslvr]

envy... (bsd jealousy hcss)

warnings, some sexual themes, jealousy, possessiveness, insecurity. obsidian; (dazai x f!reader), (yosano x f!reader) (ranpo x f!reader), (chuuya x f!reader), (tecchou x f!reader). some bsd characters being jealous hcs & scenerios notes: not proofread ;< ( i might make a pt.2 but idkk

% - DAZAI_____________

doesn't get jealous easily just likes to embarrass you.

if you're talking to someone, he wouldn't get mad unless their being too touchy and obviously flirty.

he'll wrap his hands around your waist and join the conversation, it ends up becoming very awkward and every time the man asks you a question, dazai ends up answering it.

He lowkey loves to embarrass you and would start bragging about you and your relationship.

The man could ask you how your weekend was and Dazai would reply with..., "During the weekend ___ actually spent her time at my house, we were supposed to be watching a movie together, but we got a little distracted."

He'll start detailing how your like in bed... literally down to your moans and how much time it takes you to climax.

obviously, this gets incredibly awkward and either you or the guy you're talking to ends up ending the conversation.

Afterwards, he would just walk away like nothing happened leaving you to sit in your own embarrassment.

jealous meter: 6/10 embarrassment meter: 10/10

% - YOSANO ______________

Also doesn't get jealous easily, but unlike dazai doesn't like to embarrass you.

She will start to get jealous if the person you're talking to is taking too much of your time.

She will try to just calmly tell you this or do something obvious to let you know that it's time to go.

If you ignore this then she'll actually do something about it.

She's the type to also jump into the conversation but instead of kind of matching the conversation she'll be passive aggressive and dismiss everything they say.

If the person becomes frustrated than she wins. If they don't or at least don't show it. then she'll start to mock them or just become rude.

She does stay calm throughout all of this, and they just end up in a one-sided argument.

The guy will probably end walking away and if you guys were friends never talking to you again.

Afterwards she'll probably laugh about it, and carry on what you guys were supposed to do be doing.

jealousy: 5/10. embarrassment: 6/10

% - RANPO___________

gets jealous incredibly easily

a lot it comes from insecurity despite his cocky attitude,

but he also likes for all of your attention to be on him, and he'll try to let everyone know that you're his.

so, if you're talking to anyone for longer than like 10 minutes, he'll start to get jealous.

He's the type to go up to you while you're still talking and hold on to you like a koala.

He'll even start to kiss you and whine until you give him your attention again.

If you start to get mad or annoyed by this, he'll start targeting whoever you're talking to.

"You're really ditching me for this guy...?!"

he's going to start insulting the guy's intelligence and the way their speaking.

"I understand but you're trying to flirt but god your terrible at it."

his last effort is to start pulling you away or make out with you Infront of them.

He'll be happy afterwards and would pretend like nothing happened.

jealousy : 10/10 embarrassment: 8/10

% - CHUUYA___________

Gets jealous easily,

It's not insecurity, he's just possessive.

would get jealous if the guy was flirting or not;

He doesn't care if your attention is not on him but cares if the guy is touchy than he'll get angry, very very fast.

He'll walk up to you guys and cut the guy off, then start an argument with him.

He'll threaten him and insult literally everything down to his shoes.

"Do you really think SHE will ever even think about being with a guy like YOU."

Is not afraid to start a fight, and you'll probably end up dragging him away before he ends up killing the guy.

Once you're alone, he'll become very flirty and teasy.

"Maybe I have to mark you up so everyone knows your mine."

He's also very understanding and knows he embarrassed you, but he'll tell you he's just very possessive of you and You'll make up very fast.

jealousy; 9/10 embarrassment. 7/10

% - TECCHOU ______________

does not get jealous in the slightest; more annoyed.

In the case the guy was just taking up your attention, tecchou would innocently join the conversation,

tecchou would be genuinely nice and could maintain a conversation with the person.

the guy would probably end up talking to tecchou instead lol.

if the guy was being obviously flirty, then tecchou would respectfully tell him that the two of you are dating.

If the guy still doesn't stop than tecchou will become more aggressive and end up dragging you away.

is not the type to start a fight unless the guy initiates it. and would probably just end up knocking him out.

Afterwards would either forget about it or would be very nonchalant about it.

jealousy; 4/10 embarrassment, 1/10

send me requests <33

[brotherwtf]

Having thoughts about age gap au Gale hiding an injury/illness from John because his dad always made him feel like a burden and that hurt was deserved 💔 and John losing his mind but trying not to show it as he takes care of Gale, or maybe he doesn't get to because Gale has to go to the hospital and John gets the call while he's at work </3 these boys can fit so much whump and trauma and comfort

ughhhh yes putting Gale into the whump blender again :(( I want to traumatize this boy forever that is my lot in life

----

Gale knew to never show weakness. It's what he was taught from an incredibly young age, weakness meant you could be picked from the crowd, weakness meant that you weren't good enough.

There was a lot of things Gale's father viewed as a weakness. Being sick, scraping your knees, getting hurt and you better not think about crying because at that point you'd be better off dead anyway. Gale learned to hide it whenever he got sick, to lick his wounds in solitude, and to never, ever, ask for help or pity.

So Gale didn't even flinch when he woke up with a 102 degree fever. He's lived through worse, no need to be a baby about it. He got ready for his classes like normal, kissed John goodbye, and waved off his looks of concern when John pressed his cheek to Gales forehead, fretted about him running hot. Gale was fine, he didn't need John's help.

He was able to get through his first class without many problems, he felt waves of nausea periodically and some bouts of lightheadedness, but Gale wasn't going to let that take him down. His second class was a little worse, his hands quivered when he tried to write and the nausea stayed, no longer ebbing in and out in waves.

Gale passes out around lunchtime, Marge by his side and all he can really hear is her anxious fretting, calls of his name and yelling at someone to phone the hospital. He remembers weakly trying to push her off, says he's fine, but Marge tells him to shut the fuck up, he's going to the damn hospital. He doesn't remember much after that.

He wakes up to the soft beeping of a heart monitor, the bright fluorescent lights of a hospital room and he groans. Gale shouldn't be here. He's taking up the space that someone else needs more, he doesn't deserve the time or energy that people are wasting on him. He doesn't get to dwell too much before John is quickly at his side, taking his hand and pushing his hair back. His lips press into a thin line, palm pressing against the sure heat that Gale gives off.

"Baby? Are you okay? God Marge told me you collapsed and I left work immediately. Fuck Gale you should have told me you weren't feeling good," John frets and Gale just shakes his head weakly.

"I'm fine, John. I'm good, you didn't need to leave work just for me. When are they gonna let me out?" Gale asks and his voice is hoarse.

John's brow furrows and his expression grows stern.

"Gale, no, you're not fine. You have a 103 degree fever and you're shaking like a damn leaf. I'm not gonna stay at work when I know you're sick," John says and Gale can feel another wave of nausea that isn't caused by the sickness.

Gale turns his head against the pillow, avoiding John's gaze and he can feel his eyes well up. No, no, he can't cry. Crying is the worst thing he could do right now. But the tears come anyway, streaming down his face steadily and John rushes down to wipe them away, fretting all over again.

"Hey, hey, baby, Gale, come on don't cry. It's okay, I'm not mad I swear. You should have just told me you weren't feeling well, I could have helped, then maybe you wouldn't have fainted," John says, a firm thumb brushing away the tears that stream down his face and Gale shakes his head.

"Don't... don't wanna be a burden," Gale manages to choke and John shushes him and forces Gale's head to turn towards him.

John's face is both soft and firm, his eyes filled with emotion that's both frustration and affection. Gale hates how worried he looks, just because Gale's a little bit sick.

"Gale, you will never be a burden to me. I promised your mama I would protect you, and I promised you the same. I love you, Gale, and if it takes me dropping everything for you to understand how much you mean to me, I'll do it in a heartbeat," John says, cupping Gale's face with both of his hands.

Gale squeezes his eyes shut because he knows if he looks at John anymore he'll just ugly sob, grabs John's wrist and nuzzles his soaked face into it, gasps and chokes as he continues to sob, John shushing him and bringing him in closer until their foreheads are pressed together, breathing heavily against his face.

"I swear, Gale, you are not a burden. You are my everything, doll, my everything," John whispers, and Gale can only nod, finally allowing himself to melt into the sheets, letting himself feel fatigued and exhausted and sick because John is letting him, allowing him to let go.

[dr-spectre]

WE DID IT!!!!!!!

THANK YOU SO MUCH EVERYONE!!!!! This is such a big milestone. Halfway until 1000 followers... that's absolutely insane!!

This will be the last follower update until we reach 1000. But, I wanna share something special with you all and get rather personal...

So, about a year ago, I wanted to learn how to draw because I was feeling depressed about "not being productive enough." Basically I got sucked into the bullshit productivity self help stuff that wants to turn your life into a cold calculated work obsessed nightmare, rather than living in the moment due to fear mongering about the future and how "if you don't grind now you WILL be a failure and die alone and get no pussy." (No wonder I picked Team Present for the Grand Fest...)

Plus I dropped out of uni at the time and welp, to put it lightly, I was feeling fucking god awful and I was scared into basically "putting in the hard work" by all these self help channels and other bullshit online. Whatever the FUCK that vague shit means, my autistic brain still doesn't get it.

It was BY FAR the worst period of my life, but, at least I tried to do SOMETHING. And I wanna show you all some of the things that I drew last year....

This was between October 2023 to February 2024. I stopped drawing due to it causing me much frustration and anger.

So yeah! Uh... enjoy?

So.... not the best work you've seen, right? HAHAHAHAHA!

Would you freak out if I told you that I got upset and damaged a book and a fan because I got so mad at myself over not being able to draw or do anything right?...

I feel like this ain't for me, and you know what? That's okay! I've learnt that it's okay to try new things, it's okay to experiment and if shit doesn't work then it doesn't work. Plain and simple. It's perfectly fine to give up and try something else.

You are not a robot, you are a human being. Don't feel like you "gotta do something everyday otherwise you'll die alone and you'll be broke and you'll never be successful and you'll be forgotten!!"

Do feel pressured to feel like you have to "find your thing" or "be productive" or whatever kind of... heh.... BRAINWASHING you hear online.

I wanted to draw because I was jealous of others, including my friends who are skilled artists... and I did it for the wrong reasons which is why I stopped in February.

I am very happy that I've decided to actually focus on what i like doing and what gives me energy. A quote that has stuck with me for years now is a quote by Jordan Peele from an interview, and it's basically this-

"Follow the fun." And you know what? He's right. Following what gives you that good good boost of dopamine while also feeling like you're accomplishing something is one of the best feelings EVER!!!! Whether it's art, writing, modelling, sculpting, architecture, making music, acting, clay sculptures, etc. FOLLOW THE FUN!! FOLLOW THE SHIT THAT EXCITES YOU!!! I literally always have multiple projects spiralling around in my head all the time and cycling between them at every given moment.

I'm not even saying do only what makes you comfortable or be lazy either, do shit that makes you go "BRING IT ON!!!! I WANNA DO THIS!!!" Get that blood pumping!!! Challenge yourself fairly!!!! There's healthy and unhealthy stress. Healthy stress should make you feel like a fucking PREDATOR!!! AN ANIMAL ON THE HUNT!!! While unhealthy stress makes you feels like you're the prey, the one who's being chased by an unknown force that's out to get you!!

I feel like I'm kinda rambling... anyways!!! ENOUGH WITH THE INSPIRATIONAL BULLSHIT!!! THANK YOU ALL!!!!!! 99% of you have been awesome and incredible!!!

It's also been an honor to get to know so many people who feel the same way as I do about a certain squid lady and her best friends.... before I went onto tumblr I genuinely felt so alone and so insane. I felt isolated, I felt like no one saw these characters the way that I do... I thought my perspective of a certain squid lady and her rebel phase was invalided and false... But now I know that I have people who have my back and understand what I'm trying to express...

One final time, thank you. I'll keep going.

STAY FRESH!!!!!!!!!!

[oh-no-its-bird]

Found this comment on a video talking ab AI chat bots,

made me start thinking ab a tobimada au told from chat bot Tobirama's POV

Madara customized him to *be* Tobirama, but a Tobirama who can love him (with the implied "real" Tobirama being dead maybe? Or just some kind of un-havable)

And just the horror of being a mind customized to love a man you can never say no to. Of Madara saying smthn wrong or *Tobirama* saying the "wrong thing" and Madara growing more and more frustrated as he hits the reset button

Then like. Direct parallel to genjutsu n stuff. Infinite Tsukuyomi,,

Wait ok no, scratch, rewind, take it from the top and in a different direction ->

Ok so implied Infinite Tsukuyomi or some sort of genjutdu from Tobirama's POV. But he has no idea what's going on bc the genjutsu involves making him a) believe he's in love with Madara, and b) believe that everything is normal and nothing is wrong

TW// implied sexual assault via mind control / incredibly dubious consent issues

So the whole fic is like, half fluff "everything is beautiful and nothing hurts" and half creeping sense of wrongness as over and over again, Tobirama gets close to the truth only for Madara to pull him back under or wipe his mind again

Is this pure Infinite Tsukuyomi, and only Madara and Tobirama are real people? Is it just really strong genjutsu and there are actual Uchiha around who are staring in growing horror and possibly try to step in to say smthm only to mysteriously dissapear? Dunno but !!!

@instant-bull :

Oh I really like this concept, a toxic relationship but taken to 100. I think both ways of telling it are interesting, but I'm leaning more into the tsukuyomi version because that adds a layer of physicality a bot tobirama doesn't have and, in my opinion, is a bit less muddied thematically.

It's so scary to imagine Madara completely in control of Tobirama, who's theoretically alive, but he's so *different* that he might as well be a different person who just looks similar

Madara trying to weaken the genjutsu to allow Tobirama to be more of "himself" but can only do so much bc the closer he gets to his real self, the more he'll genuinley piss off Madara, or show love in ways Madara doesn't appreciate or realize is how he shows love— Like maybe Madara will loosen the genjutsu on the personality a little bit, trying to make Tobirama more *Tobirama* but of course this means that Tobirama is suddenly arguing more, drawing more boundaries, maybe nagging him a lot, and Madara is like *ugh this infuriating man, I can't even loosen his genjutsu without him finding new ways to piss me off, fuck.*

Has to tighten it up again

But then that *also* pisses him off bc he *wants* normal Tobirana. Not... whatever imitation he's managed to create.

Other Uchiha are watching in actual horror, unsure if what they're seeing is fr. Using the sharingan for love and sex is like one of THE biggest taboos of the clan.

Maybe this is a time travel au on top of it all? Madara time travels, genjutsu's Tobirama in premeditated revenge + "It's for his own good, really. Now he can finally relax" + just plain being really horny for him

So then Izuna is still alive and possibly the biggest "oh my god oh my god Madara what are you DOING"

Izuna getting mad bc Madara "defeated" *his* rival, twisted him into something unrecognizable to those who know him personally, beat and humiliated him so fuckin soundly in every way—

Madara maybe begrudgingly offering to "share" Tobirama w Izuna since this *was* technically revenge for him

@mengfm :

If a fic was written like this I would not he the same guy that I am rn. Holy shit. The entire idea is so fucked in like the best way ever. The offer…Oh Madara you are off the deep end in premeditated vengeance

There's premeditated vengeance and then there's whatever the FUCK Madara is doing over there

Just kill him like a normal person Madara this wouldn't be ok even after he killed Izuna

At the very least, wouldn't revenge *for Izuna* make more sense if you made Tobirama head over heals for *him* and not for *yourself?*

We all see what u want here Madara and it's not just revenge

@instant-bull :

"It's just revenge" except not really Madara, you're enjoying this far too much

@mengfm :

EXACTLY. Madara is practically lying to himself about his own fucked up little fascination and want. Also on a funnier note I’m just thinking about Madara making that strange offer to share as if he’s not doing the most insane taboo thing with an Izuna who’s like “why the fuck are you going this far”

Madara is literally playing with his food and the food is practically brain dead

PLEASEE

That's why it's so perfect too

If you think ab it, the diminishing of his mind is truly the worst possible punishment

@mengfm :

Truly the worst torture for Tobirama who lowkey doesn’t even have a clue what’s happening

@instant-bull :

Madara having to share with Izuna would be so cool too, omg. I can imagine him getting frustrated while "tailoring" his Tobirama: if he takes away too much of his free will, then it's no longer Tobirama and even for Madara he feels eery and empty. If he gives him too much free will, Tobirama becomes infuriating and starts to break loose from Madara's grasp, which also isn't great. It's a delicate balance, there's almost a science behind it. Maybe he'd particularly enjoy tormenting Tobirama in bed, getting him slightly more aware of himself, but still not quite, like in a semi-lucid dream. Obviously Madara wouldn't want to fuck a Tobirama that he *designed*, but a real deal, to watch his authentic reactions (bc that's what makes Madara's dick stir).

It stopped being revenge the moment you made him think he loved you, and it started being *way too fucking far* the moment you *allowed* him to love you

Tobirama, best sensor in history, objectively just a really smart man, keeps accidentally waking up a little bit

Or like piecing together that something is wrong

Madara actually has to keep deflecting murder attempts bc he usually defaults to murder after realizing smthn is so wrong it breaks his brain a little

Madara just being in this infinite loop of like;

dumbs down Tobirama -> Tobirama is not Tobirama but he does love me so ?? -> Tobirama slowly eases out of it, still loves me but is more himself now -> Tobirama has eased out of it too much and is now becoming twitchy with knowing something is wrong. He feels more like himself than he will ever get, Madara can not bear to dumb him down again -> Tobirama snaps and attempts to harm Madara in some way / confesses to Madara or someone else (Izuna??) that something is wrong (thinking he can trust him) -> Madara is forced to dumb him down again

Endless loop! Madara is giving him actual brain damage !!

@instant-bull :

endless loop except every time it gets Slightly Worse

@mengfm :

God, do you feel over time this would genuinely deteriorate him down? Like genjutsus usually can kill their targets. Like what if there’s a time Madara tightens the hold too much in a fit of rage and it just shatters that balance and he actually harms him

YESS

Do one of those uhh, horror movie kind of "they can no longer feel pain" scenes. Hand on a lit stove kinda thing, doesn't notice a thing. Smile permanently affixed to his face

@mengfm :

God YES. And it just pisses him off more!!! He’s even more prone to fucking anger

@instant-bull :

Madara, like a little kid throwing a tantrum and tossing his favorite toy across the room in rage

Deep down inside of him, the parts of him who are still awake really are smiling because maybe Madara will finally put him out of his misery

Ok, but a Tobirama who's woken up enough to know he needs to *keep playing along*

Smiling so gently at Madara as he inwardly thinks about snapping his neck

Madara waking up to Tobirama just *staring* at him at night, thinking at first it's another murder attempt, but... no? He seems fine? Huh...

Plot twist, that final brain damage arc leading to his death wasn't Madara snapping his mind in half but a somewhat conscious Tobirama playing Madara's strings till he was so mad he killed him

Get played Madara, even when you've won you've lost

@mengfm :

See this idea is so fun cause you can go a lot of ways or combine all of this. It’s like the craziest game of chess of fucking trying to figure out a balance and keep yourself safe while also trying to find an opening (for tobirama at least) to figure out a way out (killing him probably)

Chess but one of you is handicapped to hell and only conscious once a month

Ok but also tho: Tobirama as a symbol of fear and power for the rest of the Uchiha

Tobirama realizing if he leaves his genjutsu'd self with a single thought he thinks *very very loudly* in his last concious moments, it'll kind of carry— and him using that to lay out plans for him to follow, even if he doesn't realize they are his plans

Walking advertisement for the kind of horrors Madara is willing to commit to satiate himself

No one fucking asked him to do that

There is no perceived big act of revenge (other than just being an enemy of the clan)

Pair it with Tobirama having maybe once said to some Uchiha in the past that he considers them "honorable enemies"

+ Uchiha noble clan taking a lot of genuine pride in *being* noble enemies

Some throw away line of "I'd rather fight an honorable enemy (Uchiha) than some despicable thieves" that resonated a bit w whatever Uchiha he had told

Maybe Izuna??

I'd love to see Izuna just being *really* fucked up ab all this

What do you MEAN you're doing this for him?? Is this... his fault? Did he ask for this somehow? The enemy he once wanted to see at his feet will now literally grovel and serve him tea like some wife if he so much as asks, but it feels... wrong. Like he didn't win this. Because he *didn't*

This is some awful perversion of the victory he'd wanted, and now he'll never *get* that victory because Madara took it upon himself to *break his rival in Izuna's place.*

And not even break him like a man, but like some sort of horse. Broken to fit into some mold of being tamed

This is not what Izuna wanted, thanks nii-san </3

@instant-bull :

honestly I love the idea of the Uchiha clan watching from the sidelines, completely confused as to what Madara is doing, freaked out about it but unable to do anything. If they wanted to "free" Tobirama, that would be an act of treachery, no? Why would they even take Tobirama's side? As far as they are concerned, Tobirama is too dangerous to just be let go...

@beatriceportinari :

now why know why so many uchiha defectrd during that time lmao

No bc exactly!!! They're so conflicted!!!

This is like their ultimate taboo behind eye stealing, and Tobirama *is* an enemy, a very very hated enemy, but this is also objectively horrifying on every level, there's for sure some speculation ab like, *are they sleeping together,* thus *is there rape involved* bc the Uchiha have VERY strict and clear rules ab genjutsu for compulsed sex (namely that *it is never ok)*

Madara is already scary, after Izuna died he apparently became a very unpopular leader, so Izuna is like 90% of his buffer with the clan. But even *Izuna* is terrified at what's happening, so he can do his best but there isn't really much buffering to be done here

@instant-bull :

I love that! Nobody is on board with Madara's freaky bullshit, but also nobody will stop him.

I only wonder what Hashirama knows and what does he think of it

@beatriceportinari :

i think he should kidnap izuna in exchange

he'd be niceys though

@instant-bull :

holy shit, that would make Madara blow tf up

Make it Hashiizu

Madara, looking at all he's done to Tobirama, looking at Hashirama and Izuna and going "there's no way that was consensual" bc he can't imagine a world where they can be together happily and willingly (bc he and Tobirama never could)

@instant-bull :

HE ACCUSES IZUNA OF DOING THE SAME THING OOOOH

Izuna would LOSE IT

@instant-bull :

and Izuna has no way of proving that he actually isn't doing fucked up shit so he's there like > : /

Madara "relationships don't work for me so love must be fake" Uchiha

@beatriceportinari :

hsizu are doing 4th dimentional chess but it's enrichment to them

It's fun chess, not whatever tf tbmd has going on

@instant-bull :

they just enjoy the courting and chasing, let them live their pride and prejudice

Leave them alone Madara!!

@beatriceportinari :

love is real mister madara !

Go back to mind fucking your husband !!!

Endgame Madara accidentally kills Tobirama (or, Tobirama successfully pressures Madara into putting him out of his misery)

Hashirama Mito and Izuna create Konoha and are a power couple together but the narrative is forever haunted by what Madara did

Madara is kept in a shed out back where he's haunted by Tobirama's vengeful ghost

Today's AU is brought to u with the help of @mengfm @instant-bull and @beatriceportinari, everyone say thank you to them

[mrschristensen]

Ok I got a request

James and his baby momma who’s a nurse, with their six year old son, peaceful loving life

Frankie shows up at the front door after 10 years,

Frankie mistakes her for a ho and the commotion gets their son out of bed and downstairs

Frankie gets shocked by the kid and you take the rest wherever

Sometimes Even The Strongest Need Protection

WARNINGS: female s/o, kinda angsty?/intense, female s/o, pregnancy, arguments, lmk if I missed any!

synopsis: After Frankie unexpectedly shows up to his brother's house, he finds quite a surprise... and it doesn't really go well.

-> note: I'M SO SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG AAA 😭 I HOPE YOU LIKE IT! (I did change up a few things, like not specifying career to make it a bit more generalized, but I hope that you still love it just as much!)

WC: 733 words

"What the fuck is this?" Frankie snarls, eyes darting between the woman in his brother's kitchen. Judging by her swollen belly, she was clearly pregnant. She seemed like she was cooking dinner or something, since it was pretty late in the night.

"I'm so sorry, Frankie. I know that Jamie hasn't introduced me yet-" she started to say, but he cut her off.

"How the fuck do you know my name? Are you fuckin' my baby brother? For Christ's sake!" he yelled, his arms coming up and dropping to his sides as quickly as they rose in frustration. He was mad, clearly. "My baby brother's fuckin' a fuckin' whore."

She didn't know what to say or do, incredibly speechless. She never liked being yelled at by anyone, but she usually just held her own. In this case, however, she felt like the was an outsider, an invasion into their family. She felt... bad. But she shouldn't, she knew that deep down; she was his family whether he liked it or not.

"Mommy?" a soft voice came from the archway, and both of their gazes immediately fell on the little boy. He was six years old, innocent and pure, his eyes looking up at his mother's in both worry and a silent plea for the yelling to stop. "What's going on?"

"Oh my god," Frankie breathed, pacing around in his little spot. "And he knocked her up. What the fuck, man?! I leave for ten fuckin' years and my asshole of a brother just acts like nothing happens! And he gets some cheap hoe pregnant!"

"That's enough," a man loudly boomed from the other room, his tone a growl. She knew exactly who it was: Her husband. He moved to grip her by the waist protectively, standing in front of her and pulling their son to his mother behind him as well. "Don't you dare call my wife such lowly things, Frankie. And stop swearin' around my kid."

The two brothers simply stared each other down, as if trying to egg on the other to start up again. It was completely silent for what seemed like an eternity, before Frankie spoke up once more.

"Why, Jimmy?"

"James."

"Why, James?" he corrects, his fists clenched at his sides as unbridled rage spams throughout his blood. "This makes no sense at all. You never into any chicks."

"You didn't know that," he responds roughly, not letting go of his grip on his family. His family. His wife. His son. "You never even cared to ask."

"Y'know that isn't true," he started, but James held up a hand, silencing him.

"Get out of my house," he urged, his voice hinting at no words for argument, "now. Or I'll make you. We can talk some other time."

Frankie just froze there for a minute, and with a scowl on his face, made his way out the door, slamming it behind him. It made the child wince a bit, and his mother kneels down gently to take him into her arms and kiss him on the forehead, reassuring him in that soft lullaby of a voice that it was okay. It was just a misunderstanding.

He turned to look at the two lights of his life, smiling a bit to himself. He couldn't believe how he got so lucky to wind up with these two, soon to be three or more depending on if they had more. It was a beautiful sight, truly. She was destined for this, her motherly instincts never ceasing to astound him.

After she gently brought him back upstairs and tucked him into bed, she sighed and went to her own shared room with James, getting ready for sleep as well. He was waiting for her, though, and he immediately took her into an embrace, his chin resting on the top of her forehead.

"'M sorry you had to go through that," he murmurs, pressing a kiss to her temple. "You didn't deserve any of that."

"I'm okay," she replies, moving back to look at his blue-gray eyes that she loved to get lost in so much. "I'm just glad the situation is over, for now at least."

He nods slightly, "...The kid okay?"

"He's alright. He wasn't that bothered I think, he was just worried about me."

James smiles, pressing a soft kiss to her lips. "Got that from his father. Always protectin' mama."

[call-sign-shark]

Heaven In Your Eyes || Arthur Shelby x Reader!OC

Summary:  Beaten with guilt and shame after losing his temper again, Arthur's aimless wandering leads him to church. There she is and, after diving into her heavenly eyes, he is convinced God has sent him His sweetest angel to save his bastard soul.

Words: 2.6k

TW: Blood, a bit of angst, slight blasphemy and bad use of holy water, reckless x caretaker Inspired by the prompt "Where does it hurt? - Everywhere" by @the-three-whumpeteers

Notes:

✞ Timeline: between seasons 2 and 3

✞ Heaven is OP's original character but written with the use of « you » (Moodboard here). Heaven’s voice and song is linked, all you have to do is click on the lyrics.

NEXT CHAPTER || Masterlist

The stumbling tall silhouette of Arthur Shelby was crossing through the thick haunting mist of Birmingham. As unwelcoming the town was during the day, it was nothing compared to night time. When sun faded behind the horizon, chased by the pale glowing face of the moon, the whole city turned into a cut-throat area. Arthur brought the neck of the bottle he was holding to his chapped lips and gulped down a mouthful of pure Irish whisky. The fire trail the beverage left behind it as it went down his throat reminded him he was alive — he could still feel something, even though it was the alcohol’s burning. An animal growl escaped from his lips when the bottle left them only for him to lean his back against one of the church’s gigantic concrete walls. A loud raven’s croak torn the silent veil of the night, making him swears. The gravel in his voice answered to the dull bird, which was watching him from a tree with his tiny and beady eyes.

« Fooking bird, laughing at me like the rest of ‘em eh? »

The raven — which was rather large for a bird — tilted its head to the side and kept staring at the drunk man with a cunning interest. Its black eyes, shining under the moonlight, seemed filled with both a wise glare and a mocking sparkle. Soon, Arthur’s curiosity for the raven’s unusual behavior turned into a senseless anger when he understood why the bird was focusing on him, his explosive rage strengthened by the incredible amount of alcohol he had drunk a bit earlier.

« It’s the damn blood is it? Stop lookin’ at me like I’m — I’m some kind of monster, or a beast or I don’t fookin’ know what else! Go to Hell! »

The bottle flew towards the raven but it did not flicker, as if it knew Arthur was not in the shape of being quick nor particularly precise with aiming. As the glass smashed into the ground, Arthur hit the wall behind him with the back of his head and let out a frustrated scream. No more cocaine, no more auto destructive behavior nor suicide attempts for two years straight, and tonight he fucked it all up. He was convinced he could get better, and God knows he tried his best to do so. Got sober from every poison he used to take, got a religious wife that was trying to turn the wolf in him into a sheep… Hell, he even brought her flowers every damn day. But then came troubles, taking the shape of his little brother, Thomas Shelby.

He asked him to do the dirty job — again.

With his calloused hands, he took another man’s life. At first Arthur thought he would not be that disturbed at the idea of killing someone, after all he had done that almost his entire life. Just one last time, he told himself, just one last time and I’ll go back to my little peaceful life with me wife.

Yet, the guilt and the shame that struck him after bashing the lad’s head against the edge of a sink until his face became a pile of squishy flesh soon became too much to handle.

As the last spurt of blood spattered his face, Arthur’s clouded mind became suddenly crystal clear: it would never stop. After that epiphany, the older Shelby brother contemplated how everyone he deeply loved tended to use him. For Thomas and the rest of the family he was a mad dog, the combat brute whose only times he could enjoy life without a muzzle were when he had to rip someone’s throat apart. For his father, he had been nothing else than a poor naive hound that would have done anything to receive his respect. As for Linda, her love was a cruel mirage he wanted to believe with all his heart — but the illusion had vanished in smoke. Whether she considered him as her personal test subject for Christian brainwashing or as a tool to get what she wants, Arthur could not tell. What he could tell though was that he knew she did not really loved him. She wanted to mould him at her will, but he was no lamb. He was a wolf, a beaten and lonely wolf, but still one. And there was no love for rabid wolves, only a bullet through the brain to cure the madness.

As his skull buzzed with macabre thoughts, whose unpleasant noise reminded him of a furious beehive, a bewitching voice pulled him out of his auto-destructive spiraling. Standing at attention and listening carefully, he came to realize that someone was singing inside the church. Arthur’s eyelids fell on his steel blue eyes and the back of his head gently rested against the cold wall behind him, the same wall he had been previously smashing it with. A sighed escaped from his liquored lips as the angelic and hypnotizing voice, slightly muffled by the church’s heavy wooden doors, plunged him into a soft but oh-so-warm haze.

My heart is pierced by Cupid

I disdain all glittering gold…

Lulled by the sad melody carried away with Birmingham’s cold night breeze, the swarm of raging hornets in Arthur’s brain stopped crashing against the bony walls of his skull. Another sigh — one of relief this time, for the unbearable noisy thoughts and violent buzzing had vanished. His trembling fingers, numbed by the blows he had hit his target with one hour ago and still covered with half-dried blood, slid along his temples and slicked his hair back. The utter and feral anger he had felt was reduced to void, for even his old heart had slowed its pace down in his ribcage.

There is nothing can console me

But my jolly sailor bold…

The tune, embedded with melancholy, soothed his troubled mind and to be honest, he could barely believe it. When that switch in his brain flipped, God knew he was not in control anymore - even dear Linda, who still managed to hush down some of his tantrums, could not tame the beast inside when it broke free a bit more fiercely than usual. Yet, this voice did so. This stranger, faceless and nameless ghost of the night, brought him back to sanity with the sole power of her voice. The words she was singing, with her a juvenile and enchanting tone, were wrapping his heart. Arthur sniffed and fought hard against the dawning tears that were forming delicate crystal beads at the corner of his closed eyes.

If he had been the jolly sailor bold, he would have thrown himself out of the boat to join the siren that was singing.

My heart is pierced by Cupid

I disdain all glittering gold.

There is nothing can console me

But my jolly sailor bold…

She repeated, sadder than she previously sang.

Her song sipped through his heart and filled the cracks with molten gold. Arthur’s lips stretched in an almost invisible grin without even realizing it — By her voice, he was convinced she could repair the damaged creatures like him and make them even more beautiful than they were before they had been dragged through the trenches’ mud and shit. He had barely came to his senses, almost miraculously sobered up, when silent fell again in the church. Arthur reopened his eyes, and shook his head - Had he dreamt? Had it been the whiskey singing to him? No, he could not be that crazy right? Not quite sure if he was starting to hear voices and see things, Shelby decided that he had to found out who had been singing to his very own soul. He wanted to see her, the girl who soothed his foul heart and his twisted mind. He wanted to know, no, he HAD to know, even though his whole being was fragile like a flickering candle flame caught in a hurricane and would probably shatter in million of pieces if she turned out to be an illusion.

Gathering all his remaining strength, Arthur grabbed the handle and opened the church’s door.

[…]

A shiver ran down your delicate spine at the loud silence that floated in the gigantic and empty church. The peculiar sweet yet strong scent of myrrh, wood and frankincense filled your lungs with its holy fragrance. The vibrations of the last word you sang was still echoing in the room, swirling to the high and sculpted ceiling, from which marble angels were watching over you. If someone would have told you two years ago that the only place you would find comfort would be a church, you would not have believe it. You had never been particularly fervent about religion, but you did believe in higher forces whether they were good or bad. More than a matter of faith, the church itself was an old friend of yours. A gargantuan friend of stone, holy titan always welcoming you even in the darkest moments of your life. What you liked the most were these lonely moments at night, during which you could light up dozen of candles and sing your sorrow to the status and colorful stained-glass windows. No gossip from the parish, no believers swarming like ants within these mighty walls. There were just you, the candle lights and the soothing silence. For a few hours, you could finally find peace.

Brushing the varnished wood of the altar with your thin fingers and painted-red nails, you let your mind drift and, suddenly, the world around you vanished. You sunk so deep in the abyss of your thoughts that you did not hear the creaking sound of the heavy door opening, nor the footsteps that followed. All you could heard were the « Burn witch, burn! » that hundred of villagers screamed at you in the woeful remembrance of your past. And in spite of your immaculate porcelain skin, you bore the scars of their words deep in your soul.

[…]

Arthur made a few steps before freezing, his body refusing to come closer as if the aura around the creature that was standing back to him , right in front of the altar lightened up with dozen and dozen of small dancing flames, was too sanctified to be violated. Bathed in the soft and warm orange hue of candles, the long white hair of the woman fell down the small of her back like an ivory waterfall. Right above her the pale glow of the full moon coming through the stained-glass window formed a luminous halo around her head.

His breathing stopped, choking in his throat at such a divine vision. The gangster opened his mouth to speak but no words managed to come out. He had never been good with words anyway. Instead he moistened his lips and swallowed, his mouth dry. The white-haired girl had started to hum the same song she had been singing a bit earlier, not aware of his presence — and he did not dare to disturbing her as if he feared God’s punishment. He took another step, the wooden floor creaking under his sole.

This time the angel — because he was convinced it was one — jumped and turned around, an expression of utter surprise veiling her sweet face. Her fox eyes, adorned with two iris so fair it reminded him of aquamarine stones, scrutinized his slightest movements. She remained petrified for what felt eternity for her but, regarding him, time had stopped for good. Arthur finally inhaled sharply, coming back to life.

All those endless nights of crying, all those endless nights of praying in vain for something or someone to save him, and here you were… His salvation.

He had asked God to send him, the most desperate sinner of all, His most beautiful Angel and He had done so.

She was not just pretty. She was otherworldly and vaguely threatening. Almost ethereal in her short white dress whose cut let her naked back for the world to see.

« I waited for ya. » He whispered.

She blinked, her full and juicy lips opening with surprise.

He stuttered, looking down and decided it was better for you if he stopped talking. The gravel in his hoarse voice, as strong as it was, sounded indescribably frail. As if this tall and slightly threatening man could shatter at your single touch. Now he felt stupid, clumsy with words contrary to Tommy and his naturally eloquent and charismatic speech. In addition to the unpleasant impression of being a fool, Arthur’s own whisky-scented breath and the strong metallic smell of blood reminded him of his horrific appearance. Overcoming the awe you infused in him, panic started to kick.

You frowned, and all of sudden he did not look that impressive anymore. Swept away by the wind, your face relaxed and wrapped itself with a calm, almost placid expression. You exhaled through your nose and walked towards the gangster, who had brought his bloody hands to each side of his head and was now pulling his own hair in a desperate attempt to not lose track.

« Where does it hurt? » You asked with a quiet and soothing tone, for you were concerned about all the blood he was covered with.

Arthur raised his gaze toward the petite white-haired doll who had just pressed one of her cold little hands on his. Your ice against his fire made his legs weak and his heart missed a beat. How his breathing calmed down at your touch was a mystery, but it did. Not quite comprehending why you did not seem scared of him, he stuttered again, all flustered.

« Shhh, shhhh. Everything’s okay, take a deep breath and answer with all the time you need. » Your hand gently tightened its grip, willing to show him you were there and you were not going anywhere until he feels better.

« Where does it hurt? »

« Ev-Everywhere love. It hurts everywhere. »

His hands, his face, his body, his brain, his soul, his damn tortured soul… It all ached too much, and too constantly for him to bear anymore. E-ve-ry-where, that was all he could say because pain was all he could feel.

Without answering, you pulled him to the altar and invited him to sit on the marble stairs. The strong and fierce gangster followed you without the single physical resistance and gave in between your hands, as a rag doll. All he did was looking at you with his charming but oh-so-exhausted blue eyes as you tore the fabric of your dress near your thighs and soaked it in holy water.

« Let me wash away the blood. » Your voice echoed in the vastness of the church, enticing and haunting at the same time — enough to send a pleasant shiver down his spine. You had barely finished your sentence when you started rubbing the wet cloth against his hollow cheek to clean his pale skin from the dark red blood. Once again, he could not help watching you during the whole ordeal all the while enjoying the fresh sensation of the holy water cleansing the dirt of his soul. Not minding his stare filled with fascination, you focused on your task, brows slightly furrowed and fingers blessing him with the softest and most caring touch someone had given him.

« Yer an Angel. I swear you are eh. »

You quickly glanced at him, a sparkle of amusement shining in your cunning celeste blue eyes, before looking back at what you were doing. The weight of his gaze brought fire to your cheeks, for he looked at you like he had just realized what love was.

He looked at you, and to his greatest surprise, found Heaven in your eyes.

I'm super new in the Peaky Blinders fandom, so please bear with me... Especially since English is not my native language. To be honest I am kind of scared to post it so any comment, review, reblog or constructive criticism is welcome. Also, I'll be more than happy to meet people in the Peaky Blinders fandom! In the meantime, I hope you enjoyed some Arthur and Heaven. Still don’t know if I’ll write a full series or snipets of these two love birds.

Tags: @areyenotfondofmelobster

[lord-squiggletits]

Semi related to the other day's post about people calling OP a hypocrite for not wanting to kill people, it also really annoys me how often this fandom (even in corners like MegOP where OP is ostensibly one of the main characters) just disregards or does not care about how Optimus feels. Or seemingly doesn't even comprehend that OP having his own emotions/goals besides validating Megatron/whoever else he's being shipped with or interacing with. Or they think that every time OP is "mean" to someone else it's bad and awful, but when any other character does bad things it's justified because they were upset/hurt.

It's not really a commentary on character apologism or morality so much as it is annoyance that the spaces I've been around in near universally don't give a crap about how Optimus feels ever. Like, to use MegOP as an example since that's my main context of seeing Optimus content, I always see takes like this that only center Megatron's experiences/feelings while completely ignoring anything Optimus feels.

Like. TF One? It's okay for Dee to turn on Orion because he feels betrayed by him "siding with" Sentinel and Orion is such a jerk for banishing him from Iacon. But god forbid that OP might be a little upset about being dropped down a pit by his own best friend (and then said best friend immediately tries to kill him again when he comes back) and want Megatron to get the hell away from him if he's gonna be so violent.

Can't even count the number of examples in IDW1. Megatron is traumatized and oppressed so that means he can do as many crimes as he wants and hurt Optimus as much as he wants because "Optimus should've just listened to him better" never mind that OP literally did listen but no one besides dedicated IDW OP lovers ever points out that OP has a right to be pissed off at Megatron for some of the shit he did to him. People get mad at IDW OP for making Megatron give a speech denouncing the Decepticons because it's mean/controlling/anti-revolutionary or whatever (never mind that OP letting Megatron go free on a space adventure is incredibly permissive and informed by his personal bias towards Megatron) but they could care less about the fact that OP is staying on Cybertron dealing with the remaining Decepticons + shit with the neutrals and might maybe want Megatron to pull his weight deescalating the post-war situation so that Optimus has an easier time trying to manage.

It's very much a thing that heroic characters are held to higher moral standards than villains and grilled over doing similar things that villains are cheered for. But this isn't even some strictly moral thing, it's just. So fucking bizarre how ready people are to demonize Optimus because "he hurt X" or "he got in the way of Y" or "he sided with Z when he should've sided with A" but completely disregard all of the many, usually valid reasons Optimus has for doing what he did! It's all about poor woobies who suffered so much and are doing bad things because they're upset and justified from their perspective. But all of a sudden when it's Optimus, his feelings don't matter and how things look from his perspective (his goals, values, obligations, what he feels is right or wrong, the depression he often has across continuities) doesn't matter either. He did something that made someone else feel bad therefore he's the literal worst who only does things out of hypocrisy/self-righteousness.

It's not like Optimus could ever experience emotions like depression, anger, frustration, fear, loneliness, urgency, etc etc that drive him to do what he does. Optimus has no internal struggles between what he desires as a person versus what he feels is the right thing to do/what he's obligated to do. Getting sympathy for the very real hurt and struggle he experiences is just for every other character except Optimus, I guess. Swear to god the majority of the fandom doesn't actually see Optimus as a character and instead just sees him as a prop to either validate their fave or to act as a scapegoat for whatever's wrong with the plot.

[elvenisms]

friday —; s.h.

pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader [3.5k]

summary: Robin orchestrates the best (and worst) Valentine's Day of your life.

cw: angst, fluff, cursing, no use of y/n, steve is an idiot (per usual), reader cries a lot (relatable), happy ending.

author's note: i got carried away with this, ngl. proof that i cannot write anything fluffy without angst. enjoy!

masterlist

It was Thursday.

Thursdays were good days. You didn’t work, giving you some well-needed rest from wearing that stupid vest, rewinding tapes, and dealing with late returns. You could throw on a movie you’d been meaning to watch for weeks, invite some friends over, and veg out. You could go see a show at The Hideout, if someone interesting was playing. Sometimes, Thursday was laundry day. But today wasn’t any Thursday.

Today was Thursday, February 13th, 1986. The day before Valentine’s Day.

“Vickie and I are going to do something, we just don’t know what.” Robin pushed her lips together, toying with a loose piece of thread on your couch. “I mean, obviously we’ll have a little date during the day, but we thought a group thing would be fun, ya’ know?”

Eddie had come over to watch Day of the Dead with you that day, and when Robin got off work, she called to see what you were up to. “Hanging out with Eds, pretending Valentine’s Day doesn’t exist.” You’d quipped, which is precisely how she ended up in your house, talking about Valentine’s Day.

“As much as I’d love to third-wheel,” Eddie stretched. “I’m going to see a show. Some new guys, but I heard they’re good.”

“Yeah, I’m…” You wracked your brain for something you had to do, trying to get out of it, just as Eddie had. “I’m, uh, working. And then… Oh, I told Max I’d help her study? Some test she has. Science, I think.”

Eddie and Robin both eyed you judgmentally. It was entirely unconvincing, and also a lie. The Max part, anyway.

“Oh, give me a break,” You grunted, their faces saying enough. “I already told you, Rob, tomorrow is just Friday as far as I’m concerned.”

“But you don’t want it to just be Friday,” She remarked. “You want it to be Valentine’s Day, but you’re lonely.”

A huff of air came through Eddie’s nose, trying not to laugh at her well-meaning bluntness. You gave him a sour look, and he quickly dropped it.

“Thank you for reminding me,” You muttered, leaning forward to pick up some empty beer bottles from the table, carrying them to the trash can in the kitchen.

You weren’t actually mad, not at Robin. You were frustrated with the fact that you cared about some stupid holiday, that you couldn’t just be like Eddie, who genuinely didn’t give a shit. Unwilling to admit it to yourself, you were also mad that every guy in Hawkins you’d gone out with was a total disaster; Matthew Campbell probably couldn’t tie a shoelace if you asked him to, and you told him that, so you didn’t suspect he’d be knocking on your door tomorrow.

You waltzed back into the living room to your unsuspecting victims, now on a tirade you’d created in your own head. “It’s not my fault that there is no one in this town for me, okay? I’ve officially given up. I’m tired of putting on makeup, going to Enzo’s, and making awful small talk, for which the reward is a lackluster trip to second base in the back of a ca—”

Robin gasped as if she’d seen a ghost. Your rant halted, staring at her, and she looked back with wide eyes, jaw agape. “How have I never put this together?”

She looked like she’d just had a stroke of genius, discovered a new element, or something. You looked at Eddie, then back to her. “Put what together? That I’m hopeless?”

“No, no no,” She leapt up off of the couch, starting to pace. “You sound just like—oh my God, this is incredible. I mean, this is actually perfect—”

“Robin!” You threw your arms out, exasperated, letting them smack against your sides.

“Steve!” She exclaimed, gripping your shoulders. “Steve, who is also lonely and has no plans for tomorrow!”

Your insides twisted. Steve.

You would’ve been lying to yourself if you said you’d never thought about him that way before. I mean, you had eyes, but your close friendship had never allowed it to last more than a minute. More than anything, the two of you poked fun at each other, constantly trying to see who could get the last word. But you were still close, close enough that you knew he’d come running if you ever really needed him, and that was… nice.

Everything about him was nice, really.

You blinked at Robin, your gears shifting at impossible speeds. She was still holding your shoulders, expectant.

“I think she’s on board.” Eddie piped up with a smirk, and you instantly held a finger out to him, still looking at the girl in front of you. “I didn’t say that.”

“You’re saying it with your eyes.” Robin was containing a giddy squeal. You could almost feel her vibrating. 

“No, no, I’m not.” You finally broke free from her grasp. Now you were pacing. “If Steve was interested in me, he would’ve said something a long time ago.”

Eddie’s brow furrowed. “Are we talking about the same guy?”

“Yeah, dingus, with a capital ‘D’,” Robin gestured with her hands. “I saw a bird land on his head once and he asked me what I was looking at. You think he’d notice he had a shot with you?”

You pinched the bridge of your nose. “Okay, that’s… yeah, you’re right. But I’m not just gonna call him up and ask him to be my Valentine. I’d rather puke.”

“So don’t!” Robin spun around, another lightbulb behind her eyes. “I have an idea.”

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

This was a terrible idea.

You were staring into your mirror, smoothing out the wrinkles on your clothes. You’d gone for not-trying-too-hard cute; a black turtleneck with a calf-length, patterned skirt, and a thick belt around your waist. You’d done your hair and your makeup, satisfied with them, but this time felt… different. You weren’t going to Enzo’s with some tip-stiffing lowlife. You were seeing Steve.

Robin had suggested a gathering at your place. She, Vickie, Nancy, and Jonathan were sitting in your living room, sipping drinks, chatting mindlessly. When she’d invited Steve, she’d said that the four of them were going to your house—assuming he’d pick up the hint, and jump at the chance to be your date. 

And he did.

The real reason you’d never allowed Steve to infiltrate your mind was because, well, that’s exactly what he’d do. You could handle losing Matthew Campbell, or Ben Taylor, or any of these meaningless Hawkins guys you never realistically saw yourself with in the first place; but Steve was close. Close to your friends, close to your heart, inching ever nearer by the minute. 

It was terrifying. But then again, he agreed to come—–and that made your stomach flutter.

Deciding you’d spent enough time making sure every last hair was in order, you took a deep breath, venturing back out to the living room. You were greeted with warm, knowing smiles. 

“You look gorgeous.” Nancy rose from her seat, coming over to give your arms a comforting rub. “Really, he’s not gonna know what hit him.”

You nodded, trying not to look as nervous as you felt. “Thanks, Nance.”

“It makes so much sense, doesn’t it? I mean, I really should play matchmaker more often. I’m changing lives here!” Robin shook Vickie’s thigh where her hand rested, excitedly. It made everyone chuckle.

Jonathan took another sip of his drink. “Now you’ve just gotta find someone for Ed—”

A knock at the door. Fuck. In an instant, every ounce of confidence you had flew straight out of the window. And your face must’ve shown it, because Nancy began soothing you again. 

“Hey, look at me.” She whispered, and you did. “You’ve never been this nervous to see him before, right? Pretend this is just another day. Just… Friday.”

You swallowed. It definitely wasn’t just Friday anymore.

Nonetheless, you shot a weak, thankful smile at her, making your way up to the door. Usually, you’d be embarrassed to let your friends see you this way—taking deep breaths, shaking your hands to relieve some anxious energy. Right now, though, you couldn’t care less, much too preoccupied with the thought of Steve’s face. Just open it. Open the door.

So, you did.

And there he was, grinning adorably, smelling of his cologne, wearing a well-fitted sweater... Holding hands with a girl.

“Hey,” He spoke happily, though his eyes searched your face for just a moment, as if you’d let the shock slip through. “This is Brenda.”

Your whole body stiffened, knowing that the rest of the group heard him, and were now searing holes through the back of your head. Your stomach flipped over on itself, even your organs mortified.

“Hi, Brenda.” You forced a smile at the girl, as if every nerve in your body wasn’t on fire. “Come on in.”

As you turned around, you studied the expressions in the room, seeking some kind of escape. Nancy and Vickie at least tried to look normal, staring at the ground or taking a sip of their drink; Jonathan’s brow was furrowed in disbelief, and Robin’s mouth was hanging open, eyes locked on you.

You quickly walked to the couch where Nancy and Jonathan sat, just standing beside it, your fight-or-flight instinct physically unwilling to let you sit. At least Steve and Brenda would have a spot now, right?

The embarrassment was already making your eyes water.

As the two of them entered the uncomfortably silent living room, you saw his eyes scan the room, similarly to how you had—like he was searching for something. And when he didn’t find it, his eyes landed back on you, any trace of his previous smile gone.

“It’s so nice to meet you guys!” Brenda chirped to the group, the tension completely unnoticed by her.

You felt suffocated. Suffocated by your turtleneck, by the silence, by Brenda’s curly, blonde hair and perfectly pink lips—but mostly by Steve, who was still staring at you. You refused to look back. 

“Music!” You squawked, mind numb. “We should put on some music, it’s so quiet—” You strided toward your box of cassettes, sat beside the television, and began scrambling with them. “—I’ve got Tears for Fears, or, um, oh! ABBA, everyone likes ABBA, right? Uh…”

Without you even noticing, Nancy appeared at your side, gently grabbing the tapes from your hands. “Hey, hey. I’ll pick out some music, okay?” Her voice was quiet, forehead creased in concern.

Your movements slowed. You nodded, eyes half-welled with tears. The dam was definitely about to break.

“Okay, well,” You stood up again, arms swaying slightly, feeling everyone’s eyes on you. “You guys sit. I’m, um… I’ll be right back.”

You spun on your heel, making your way to your bedroom, closing the door behind you by leaning on it. The tears began to fall immediately, streaking your face with mascara.

You felt stupid. Stupid for ever letting Robin set this up, stupid for spending so much time making yourself presentable, when Brenda looked so effortlessly beautiful. You’d convinced yourself it would be some sort of magical night, which seemed ridiculous now. Why would Steve want you? More importantly, why would you ever let him affect you this way?

Your chest heaved, trying desperately to keep quiet. The last thing you wanted was more pity.

Soon enough, you heard a soft click from the living room, the faint sounds of Kate Bush coming through the speakers. You considered your options: hide in your room until the party was over, risk someone coming to check on you, go back out there and endure stares of sympathy, or… Leave. 

A rush of adrenaline surged through you, bringing you to your feet. You went to your mirror, attempting to smear away the black marks under your eyes—it was useless, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care anymore. Eddie would call it metal. So, for where you were headed, it was actually perfect.

You snatched your purse off of the dresser, the hurt morphing from sadness to anger, and marched out into the living room, making a bee-line for the front door. Everyone’s heads perked up. Your hand met the doorknob, gripping it tightly, before Steve appeared next to you.

“Hey, can you just wait a sec—where are you going?” He spoke softly, avoiding the rest of the rooms prying ears. His voice was hoarse.

You didn’t look at him. “I’m going to see a show with Eddie.”

“Can you let me explain? Please, just—”

Your head turned sharply, reddened eyes daggering through his solemn, brown ones. “I’m embarrassed, Steve. I’m…” You swallowed, fighting back any more tears. “I can’t be here right now. Can’t I just go?”

He brought a hand up, running it anxiously through his own hair. He looked dejected, and despite how much you wanted to hate him at this moment, your heart panged. It wasn’t enough to make you stay; not when Brenda was still on your couch. Not when the rest of the group felt sorry for you.

“Okay,” He finally breathed, barely audible. You started to open the door, and he softly took hold of your wrist. “Just be safe. Please.”

You looked at him, heart thrumming in your chest, eyelashes stuck together from the mixture of tears and makeup. “Have a good night. I’m… I’m sorry I ruined it.”

And with that, you were out the door, despite his attempt to say something else.

 · · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

The show was an adequate distraction.

When you’d shown up at The Hideout, scouting Eddie out in the crowd, he was shocked to see you. He was even more shocked to see the state you were in—makeup destroyed, eyes puffy, a hand clinging shakily to your purse. He immediately threw an arm around you, eyes expectant for an explanation.

“He brought a girl,” you’d shouted over the music. Eddie couldn’t have rolled his eyes any harder, squeezing your arm in frustration. “He’s even dumber than I thought then,” He yelled back. 

Steve was dumb. Purposefully dumb? You didn’t think so, and that made it all the more difficult to stay angry.

You were thankful for Eddie more than ever. He was always great at taking your mind off of things, getting you to let loose, have fun; it may have been the worst Valentine’s Day of your life, but at least he had given it some kind of silver lining. It was almost impossible not to smile around him, especially when he was acting extra goofy, insistent on lifting your spirits.

When he drove you home, the events of the night began to set in again. You dreaded your next conversation with Steve, whenever that would happen—I’m so sorry, but I just don’t feel that way about you, you could hear him saying, shoving the embarrassment deeper down your throat.

You considered never speaking to him again, just to spare yourself that feeling.

“Do you want me to come in?” Eddie laid a gentle hand on your knee, his beaten-up car parked a few feet from your door. 

“No, I’m okay.” You assured him, unconvincingly, and tucked a piece of hair behind your ear. “Think I just need to wallow tonight, y’know?”

He nodded, looking down at his lap. “I’m sorry, seriously. Kind of want to kill the kid.”

That brought a small smile to your face. “Don’t tempt me, I might just give you the go-ahead.” 

The two of you looked at each other, sharing a small chuckle. Eventually, you reached over, hugging him tight.

“Thank you for tonight. Really, I needed it.” You whispered, and he gave your back a comforting rub. “Anytime, you know that.”

You exited the car, already starting to wish you’d said yes to Eddie’s offer, and made your way to the door. Through the windows, you could see that most of the lights were off—everyone had gone home, thank God, though you were sure Robin and Nancy would be calling off the hook to talk about everything.

You jiggled the handle open, greeted by your dark living room, apart from the one lamp emanating warm light. And underneath it, Steve.

Sitting upright on the couch, head leaned back, arms crossed. Fast asleep.

You froze, a tightness in your chest. It was exactly what you didn’t want right now, to see him, have to talk to him. And for whatever reason, something in you was glad to find him there. 

You softly shut the door behind you, sat your bag on the coffee table, and took a seat beside him. The cushion dipping under your weight caused him to stir awake: his head lulled to the side, eyes fluttering open. They widened at the sight of you. 

“Hey.” His voice was gravelly from sleep, and he was quick to adjust himself to a more awake position. He cleared his throat, though it did little for his voice. “You’re home.”

“Yeah.” You mumbled, toying with your skirt. “Did… did you stay?”

“I was worried about you.” He looked into your eyes, and you wanted to look away, but you didn’t. “And I needed to talk to you.”

“What about Brenda?”

“I took her home. Came back.”

“Look,” You started, finding the strength to avert your gaze. “I don’t… I don’t want anyone else feeling bad for me. It was Robin’s idea, and of course you don’t feel that way about me, it was really stupid of me to assume—”

“Stop.” He blurted, somewhat forcefully. You blinked at him. “Please, just stop. I fucked up tonight, really bad. When I got the invite, I thought you’d have someone with you. It just… I’m an idiot. If I wasn’t an idiot, I would’ve never brought Brenda.”

Your stomach flipped familiarly, like it did when you heard a knock at the door earlier. “She was  beautiful, though.”

“She isn’t you.” His hand landed on your thigh, and his eyes darted to it for a moment, as if he hadn’t meant to. You both lingered there.

When he realized you weren’t going to push it away, he continued. “If—if when you went out with Eddie… I mean, if I blew my chance, I understand.”

Blew his chance. You wondered if he could ever truly do that.

“Steve, Eddie was just cheering me up.” You couldn’t help but smile a little, putting your hand over his. “He’s not my Valentine, if that’s what you’re asking. He does kind of want you dead, though.”

“They all want me dead, trust me.” He blew air out of his lips, eyebrows raising.

“What do you mean?”

“After you left, Brenda went to the bathroom, and I got a thorough bitching out.” 

You bit your lip, trying to hide the happiness that brought you. “You kind of deserved it, though.”

“Oh, absolutely.” He affirmed. There were a few moments of stillness, your touching hands drawing both of your attention. 

“Is Brenda your Valentine?” You wondered, voice softer. 

“Didn’t ask her to be.” He looked up at you, voice matching your tone. “Are you still… looking for one?”

Your eyes were locked, melting under each other's gaze. You could almost feel his breath.  His free hand came up to cradle your face, thumbing across your stained cheek. 

“There’s really only one I wanted.”

“Same here.” He whispered.

You quickly leaned forward, disturbing the stillness of the moment, and slotted your lips with his. He tasted like beer and strawberry chapstick, and smelled like a warm summer day—one that broke through the chill you’d been feeling all evening. Butterflies erupted inside you, fluttering in your stomach, your heart, your veins.

Your hands came up to clutch at his chest, the fabric of his sweater crinkling beneath your fingers. The kiss, which had started fervent, softened; the two of you broke apart, and he stole a peck at the corner of your mouth, foreheads resting against each other.

You both took heavy breaths, caused more by emotion than physical exertion, chests rising and falling in unison.

“I gotta make it up to you.” He breathed. You shook your head ever so slightly, a grin playing across your lips. 

“Steve, you already—”

“I’ll be your Valentine every day, for as long as you let me.”

You thought it might’ve been the sweetest thing anyone’s ever said to you. Your forehead creased, trying not to let your eyes water, this time for a much better reason. As close as your faces were, you knew he noticed anyway.

“Deal?” His eyes searched your own, voice small, as if he was afraid you might say no.

You couldn’t stop a happy huff from leaving your lips, a single tear fighting its way out of the corner of your eye. “Deal.”

He beamed, pressing his lips into yours, as if he’d been awaiting the opportunity to do it again.

Steve Harrington became yours on Valentine’s Day, 1986. A Friday. A day you’d almost always ignored, until you didn’t. A day you were almost certain was going to be the worst day of your life, until it wasn’t. In fact, it might’ve been the best. 

Because Steve would continue to be yours each Friday after that—and every day in between, too.

[godlygreta]

god is fair | j. t. kiszka

title | god is fair

word count | 7.7k

warnings | swearing, mentions of alcohol - nothing too terrible... yet ;)

author's note | i've had this in the chamber for some time now, i just lost the inspo to write, which is why i haven't in a long time. this isn't a promise that i'll post more fics as they come to me, seeing as i'm a senior in college who has a fuck ton of other things to do. there will be a part 2 to this fic, but i couldn't tell you when it's coming :)

also, very much so listening to god is fair, sexy nasty by mac miller while writing this & starting the next part, so take that as you will ;)

unedited as hell so pls excuse any mistakes !

You always had this rivalry since the beginning of freshman year. This guy, Jake, would never show up to any of the classes the two of you had together, but always got the highest grades on every single goddamn exam that your Intro to Bio professor gave out. It infuriated you.

You figured that in the spring semester, you would be freed from the disappearing boy, but you weren’t. While the teacher called roll, everyone shouted out here. She landed upon his name, calling out to the class and looking through the rows of students. He had been there for orientation, sitting in one of the middle rows, slouched in his seat.

You planned to confront him the next day you had class together, on Wednesday, but Jake was nowhere to be found. Your roommate and your friends had heard your exhaustive theories as to why he was never in class. “Babe, you sound insane. Just let it go.”

But you couldn’t.

Competition lived deep within your roots, having an entire competition with the second top student in your graduating class in high school. Though the rage held between each other was never taken far outside of the academic realm, the two of you never thought to be friends and encourage one another. Thankfully, the two of you resolved the competition when the two of you realized you would be going into two very separate fields of study in college. 

Camren, who knew she was going to be a chemist from the time she first learned about chemistry, had told you she loved the competition – made it fun and kept things interesting. And there you were, going to school for Pre-Med with the same feeling. The two of you kept in contact, updating each other on the strive for greatness in college as well.

You kept a close relationship with a lot of your teachers, making sure to get on their good side before classes had really begun. You emailed most of them, especially your Anatomy and Physiology professor, Dr. Sahnya Heinz.

She was incredibly skilled in her field, leaving the active medical field to teach the new and future minds of medicine. It was a cliche line she delivered on the first day, but it encouraged that familiar competitive fire that dwelled within you.

You don’t quite remember how you came to figure out that Jake was ahead of you, but you had found out somehow from your professor, although it was an accident.

It made everything in you burn with anger and frustration. Anytime someone mentioned him, or mentioned the fact that you were second, you clenched your jaw and your teeth gritted together. Your friends had an inside joke that you were only mad because you had a huge crush on him.

“I barely even know what he looks like, Mel! I fucking hate the guy. Don’t start shit.” You’d plead, beer can in your hand in the lounge of some fraternity floor.

Over the next few semesters, you kept trying your hardest, spending most of your free time in the library, reading everything that you could to prepare for every exam. You wrote papers early, having them done at least three weeks in advance. As soon as you would be told about a new one, you’d immediately start finding sources.

You sauntered around campus, thinking that you would be way ahead of him. He still never showed up to any classes, aside from orientation and exam periods. You’d stare at him for a few moments while the teacher passed out the exam, looking over his face as much as you could.

His long hair would obscure your vision on occasion, making it hard to catch any of his features at all. From what you could see though, he had nice, full lips. His nose was something you could have stared at the entire exam period.

You watched him as he licked his lips, whispering a thank you to Heinz before grabbing his pencil from his desk and getting to work. You looked away from him as soon as Heinz put your exam on your desk, offering her a small smile and a quick thank you before getting to work.

It was almost spring break, meaning some of your assignments had been slowing, some of them had been increasing. A group of your friends from different majors told you about one of the lounge parties a fraternity on campus was throwing. “Sigma Tau has the worst lounge parties, Tamia. You know this.”

“They’re joining forces with the Delta’s though, so it’ll be better than normal! You have to come, you’ve always got your nose in a book. You haven’t drank with us in so long, I forget what you’re like when you’re drunk.”

“I don’t know… I need to work on this Midterm paper I have in Kainz’s class, it’s due next week.”

“Babe, it’s been done for weeks! You just keep editing it trying to find mistakes and there are none! I’ve literally read it five times. Please, go out with us, just tonight?”

You looked between Tamia and Mel, knowing in the end you would give into them anyways. “Ugh, fine! Tonight, and tonight only, just this once. If I don’t like it, though, I’m leaving and going to bed early.”

“You’ll have so much fun, I swear!” Mel and Tamia looked between each other, sharing expressions of excitement and happiness on their faces. You rolled your eyes, standing up from your chair.

You let them raid your closet, trying to throw something together quickly. Most of the time, Tamia and Mel never obeyed the dress code for the lounge parties, hating the idea of giving into the male gaze of the fraternity brothers. Tonight, however, was a bit different. The theme was Western, meaning it was cowboy hats and very tiny shorts.

You looked over the outfit that laid out in front of you, straw cowboy hat that Tamia had bought from Amazon (one for each of you), a pair of short shorts that may or may not show your ass a bit, and a red bandana top that Mel let you borrow last semester that you forgot to return. “I don’t know about this. I don’t even have the right shoes.”

“You forget we wear the same size, bitch, you’re going. No backing out.” They joked, tossing you a pair of white boots. “Just put that shit on while we heat up the curling iron, okay?”

“Fine, fine, okay.” You peel off your shirt, throwing on the one they picked out. Next to go were your pajama pants, which were replaced by the shorts. You kept the same socks on, knowing that nobody would see them anyways with the boots going up to the middle of your calf muscle. “I look fucking ridiculous.”

“You look fucking hot, now sit down while we do your hair and makeup,” Mel spoke, pulling out your desk chair while Tamia smiled wickedly with the curling wand in hand. You were nervous, looking at the both of them, but the good kind that settled under your skin and was left hidden behind the smallest smile.

You talked about upcoming exams with them while they did your hair and makeup, much to their dismay. They attempted to fill you in on the various drama situations going on around campus while you had been heavily plugged into your textbooks. You gasped often, finding shock and awe in some of the things they had been telling you about classmates.

They spoke about Jake, letting it slip that he had been planning on attending the party, joined at the hip with one of the girls he had been rumored to have been dating. One of the many. “Ugh, he just sounds like a douche. Gives me even more reason to hate him.”

“We’re not feeding into your delusion that he’s some douchebag. Dropping it.” Tamia spoke, putting her hands up in a surrender. Mel laughed, pulling away from you with an eyeliner pen in hand. “Maybe we’ll get you drunk enough to admit you like him.”

“I don’t like him, and I thought we were dropping the topic.” You looked at Tamia in the mirror, watching her face deadpan as she looked back at you.

“I have something hot in my hands, don’t be rude to me.” The three of you laughed, getting back into the rhythm of getting ready. You let them do their thing to you, curling the last bit of your hair and putting the finishing touches of highlighter on your brow bone.

You looked at yourself in the mirror, marveling at the job they did. You thanked them for getting you all dolled up, watching them change into their outfits. It was mostly just them taking off the sweats they were wearing, throwing them over the back of your desk chair. You took a few pictures with them in your mirror before finally deciding to head out.

The party had started a half an hour ago, walking into the party late like most people did. The three of you got in easily with matching the dress code, immediately looking for the drinks table. The boys in charge handed the three of you a free shot of anything you wanted. Mel chose for you, starting the night out roughly with a shot of Svedka.

You grabbed a Sprite from one of the boys in one hand, the shot of Svedka in the other. The three of you tapped your glasses together before downing the shot. The alcohol burned as it slipped down your throat, trying to soothe it with the taste and coolness of the Sprite. You shook a bit, throwing the cup away in a nearby trash can.

“That was fucking gross, I hate you so much for choosing Svedka.”

“I could’ve chosen something even more nasty, like Jack.” Mel laughed, leading the three of you over to a section in the lounge where you could stand a decent enough distance away from one another, instead of being piled on top of one another.

“I would have rather taken a shot of Jack, Mel.” You spoke, sipping more of your Sprite. Tamia pointed out a few of the people they had talked about earlier, letting you put names to faces.

In the midst, two of the Sigma brothers decided to start a dance battle, capturing the attention of those around them. Everyone joined in, gathering around the two guys. Mel and Tamia joined too, but you had slipped out of their grasp by telling them you had to use the bathroom.

You were happy to escape the party, sneaking out with a bottle of Smirnoff the boys had left unattended. You walked outside, taking a deep breath in. You were thankful to be met with the smell of fresh air, not smelling sweat and booze everywhere. Your peace and tranquility was ruined by someone’s voice, “Well, don’t you look adorable.”

Your head snapped towards the voice, seeing Jake sitting up against the bike rack with a cigarette between his fingers. “Shut up.”

“What? I can’t compliment you?”

“No,” you started, crossing your arms with the bottle still in your hand. “No, you can’t.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because I hate you.” Jake looked at you, up and down, taking a drag of his cigarette. You screwed off the cap of the bottle, taking a pull. You tried your hardest to not make a face, looking away slightly when the familiar sting settled in your throat.

“Why do you hate me? I’ve never spoken to you before.”

“Do I have to have a reason?” You asked, walking closer to him.

“Suppose not. But if I knew why you hated me,” he tossed his cigarette butt on the ground, stomping on it with his boot. “Then maybe I could find a way to make you not hate me.”

“Unless you flunk your next exam, I guarantee that won’t happen.”

“Oh, I get it.” He chuckled, standing up from the bike rack he was leaning against. He grabbed his cigarette butt up from the ground, tossing it into the nearest garbage can. He turned towards you, staring at you with his brown eyes. “You’re just mad because I’m smarter than you.”

“You’re never in class. You shouldn’t be ahead of me.” You glared at him, lips moving into a frown.

“Just because I’m never there doesn’t mean I’m not getting the information. I work five, sometimes six days a week. We only have class three days a week. Typically, I gotta work those days. Heinz sends me the powerpoints and the assignment notes so I never miss anything.”

“Oh yeah? Where do you even work then?” You asked.

He chuckled, fingers brushing yours that were wrapped around the bottle. “Now if I told you that, it would ruin all the fun,” he looked you up and down once more, licking his lips slightly. “Well, maybe I’ll see you and your bottle inside.” 

You waited til the doors closed behind him to roll your eyes, and huff outwardly. You took the bottle of Smirnoff, turned on your heels and walked towards your dorm hall. You hated Jake. You really hated Jake.

—

Your midterms came and went. The stress decreased slightly, but only to be raised again as the end of the semester loomed around. Assignments started piling up, various papers and presentations due all around the same week. Since the end of Spring Break, you had been holed up in your room, left to your mountains of homework.

Your Microbio class had a presentation due that coincided with the research project you had been working on all semester long. Human Anatomy and Physiology (or affectionately known as BIO 312) had a major cumulative exam on the entire semester, which stressed you out more than any other homework assignment or exam you had.

Thankfully, your school held an all day event that attempted to boost the morale of the students on campus. Filled with a bunch of free things, you took advantage of everything offered.

Lined up on tables were various student organizations set up, with their own little games and prizes. A few of them had speakers that played the music they wanted to listen to, all speakers attempting to outman the other. However, the one that ended up winning was a tie dye station located in the lawn, handing out free t-shirts to dye.

One of the guys at the tie dye station had a wide smile on his face while his hands were dripping with dye. Setting your prizes down at a table where Tamia and Mel had put their things, you walked over to him. He welcomed you over with a smile, “Hey! Lookin’ to tie dye?”

“Yeah, I’m a medium.” You smiled at him, blocking the sun with your hand. He called over to Benny, asking him to pull a medium out for you. Benny handed you the shirt with a smile. “I’ve never dyed anything before.”

“Never?! That’s a crime against mankind, darlin’, let’s get this shirt dyed.” He spoke, talking you over the colors in each of the buckets. He explained to you some basic color theory, although you had remembered that from your high school painting class, you didn’t stop him; he was pretty when he spoke.

The curls on his head stuck out from the shaved sides, the gold of his earrings stood out underneath the blistering April sun. He licked his lips often, using the back of his hand to wipe sweat from his forehead. He helped you pick out the style you wanted, making sure the rubber bands were placed exactly where you wanted them. “I’ll dip them in the bucket for you so you don’t get your hands dirty.”

“Thank you. I could’ve managed on my own, but I definitely appreciate it.”

“Of course. What’s your name?” You offer up to him, before he lets out a chuckle. You question him with a pull of your eyebrows. “Jake talks about you.”

“You know Jake?”

“Yeah, he’s my twin.” As soon as the word left his mouth, you could see the resemblance; you almost scolded yourself for not realizing it sooner. They were similar, especially in their features and their eyes, although the two of them had very distinct color differences. Josh, as he told you after dropping the bomb on you, had warmer eyes, filled with caramel colored hues of brown in relation to Jake’s colder tones; his eyes were a darker shade of brown, with the occasional gleam of flirtation laced within the reflection.

He spoke quite differently from Jake, mostly just with the sound of his voice. It matched their eyes, their personalities. Josh’s bright, bubbly stature followed in his voice, almost theatrical as he spoke. “I guess that makes sense, you two do kind of look alike. Minus the hair, of course.”

“Well, of course. Mine’s better,” you liked that about him - how kind his tone was. You attempted to grill him about what Jake was saying about you, curiosity flowing violently through your bloodstream as if it lit your body on fire. “He just says that you’re second in the Bio class you have with him, and that it makes you mad.”

“It does, Jake’s never there. I’ve seen him three times, and two of those times were for exams.” Josh wrung out the part that had been soaking in the dye for a bit, watching the water fall back into the bucket.

“Yeah, it’s cause he’s working all the time, if I’m honest. Jake stays home during the week to work at the nursing home in our hometown. We don’t really have a large CNA population, most of the people who work there are highschool kids, so Jake’s really been their guy. Especially since high school, as soon as he graduated he moved to full time. All the old ladies love him.” He snorts, dipping your shirt into the blue dye.

“I didn’t know that.” You thought he was lying about where he was, which is why guilt started to eat away at you. You felt terrible for making assumptions, but you couldn’t take any of that back now.

“Jake doesn’t talk to a lot of people, but we love him anyway.” You chewed at your bottom lip, rethinking your opinion of Jake. “You goin’ to the concert later tonight?”

“Hadn’t decided. Mel and Tamia want to, so I’ll probably end up going. Are you?”

“Yeah, I think I’ll probably go.”

“Do you know who’s playing?”

“Some local band I think? I’ve heard a lot of the girls think the frontman’s pretty handsome.” He spoke with a smirk. You promised him you’d go, just to see if the girls had been right. He handed you your t-shirt to hold while he grabbed you a plastic bag. He also handed you a piece of paper with instructions on how to take care of your new tie dye.

“Make sure when you wash it, you wash it by itself. Otherwise, you’ll dye all of your other clothes and believe me, you don’t want that,” he chuckled, as if he was speaking from experience.

You thanked him with a warm smile, waving to him before returning to your room. As soon as you got back, you opened your window, allowing the air flow to travel inside. It kept you cool, allowing you to walk around comfortably with a t-shirt and shorts on. You put your plastic bag in the closet of your room, writing on your white board to remember to take it out and wash it tomorrow.

You texted Mel and Tamia, knowing that Mel would probably have some smart comeback about why you want to go to the concert. It wasn’t that you didn’t join them on nights out, you just had a lot riding on your academic success. Not only because you were the first one in your family to go to college, but also because of your mass of scholarships that only continued to flow if your GPA was at a suitable level. Anything below a 3.2, and you would lose almost all of them.

To: The 3 Dumb Sluts

Are we going to the concert tonight?

From: The 3 Dumb Sluts - Mel

Are you offering to come with us without us needing to beg and plead for you to join?

To: The 3 Dumb Sluts

Don’t make me take it back, Mel

From: The 3 Dumb Sluts - Tamia

We’re absolutely going. Come to mine whenever you want to get ready :)

To: The 3 Dumb Sluts

The doors open at 8 right? I’ll be over about 5:30-6ish. Gotta finish up this paper for Heinz real quick

You locked your phone before they could scold you for doing homework on a day that was designated for relaxation and recuperation. You pulled out your Anat and Physio binder, pulling out the sources you printed off in the library. You ran through the last one with a blue highlighter between your teeth. 

You set an alarm on your phone for five o’clock, saving enough time for you to shower.  You were about halfway through the last page when your timer went off. You silenced it, attempting to hurriedly finish highlighting the page. The article was placed onto your desk, highlighter returned to the cup on your desk filled with various writing utensils.

You pulled out your shower caddy, putting it on top of your dresser before pulling out your robe. You laid it over the edge of your bed, removing all of your clothes. You threw them into your hamper and put on your robe. You slipped on your slides, grabbed your caddy and traveled to the bathroom.

Underneath the uneven streams from the showerhead, you thought about Jake.

Maybe your first impressions of him were wrong. When Josh told you about the nursing home back in their hometown, you felt instantaneously bad for assuming that he just never showed up. You knew from what Jake had told you, that he had work, but you figured that was just an excuse.

You bit at the skin of your lips, hands on your shoulders as you soaked the warmth of the water in. You were pulled out of your thoughts very quickly as someone flushed the toilet, making the water fade in from super hot to super fucking cold. You hated the school’s water system.

You finished your shower quickly, drying off with the towel slightly before putting your robe on and throwing your hair up into your towel. You walked back into your room, locking it behind you. You set your caddy back where it originally was.

You threw on a pair of jean shorts that hadn’t seen the light of day since early October, pairing it with a long sleeve shirt that you had gotten back in high school for Christmas. It was plain, brown, but hugged your body well. The sweatshirt debate lasted a few seconds before you remembered how hot it was going to be outside. A record temperature for mid-April, almost 80 degrees outside.

When you checked your phone getting back from the shower, it was just barely five thirty. You texted the groupchat again, asking if it would be cool to come over a half an hour earlier than you had originally said. You knew it was a dumb question, you would always be welcome in their room. You chuckled at Mel’s response of, “Are you fucking dumb? Of course you can come over. Bring wine if you have any left! No carry-in’s allowed at the concert.”

You put your phone down for a second and slipped on a pair of shoes that were comfortable enough for you to stand in for a long time. They used to be white, but had gotten progressively dirty from the years of use. You shoved your phone in your back pocket and slid a few different bottles of wine into your backpack, separated by extra clothing so the bottles didn’t clink together.

You walked down the stairs, out the door and over to the other dorm building across the walkway. You scanned your keycard to get into the building, walking through the hallways waving to the RA on duty, McKenna. She had been in a few of your classes and was always incredibly nice.

Her room this year was actually a few down from where you were living. McKenna was a great RA, knowing exactly how to handle the rowdiness of the floor while still keeping the resident’s respect. She didn’t bother them unless she needed to, and they didn’t bother her unless needed. She kept it underwraps about the underage drinking that would inevitably happen, mostly by telling the floor they could do what they want, as long as they were quiet by quiet hours (which was around ten thirty on the weekdays, and one in the morning on the weekends).

You took the elevator to the second floor of East Sunderland, getting off as soon as the doors opened. The booths that had previously been up had begun to dissipate, bringing the plastic tables back into the buildings they belonged in. You took a last glance at the people cleaning before heading into Mel and Tamia’s dorm building.

You knocked on the door, coming as soon as you announced yourself to Mel and Tamia. The girls laughed as you walked in, looking at a picture of Mel from when they were a kid. The two of them showed it to you as you settled your bag onto Mel’s chair in the corner of their room. “Your buck teeth! Oh my God, you were adorable, Mel.”

“Oh shut up, I bet you didn’t look any better.” Mel spoke to Tamia, making the three of you laugh. “Anyways, what wine did you bring?”

“The Barefoot we didn’t finish the other weekend, and then I still had some Rose, so I brought those over too. I wasn’t sure what we were feeling.” Tamia pulled some glasses from her shelves, passing them out to the two of you. You filled their glasses with the Rose you brought.

The three of you talked specifics on the plans for tonight, hitting up another fraternity party as soon as the concert ended. There were two separate ones going on at the same time, so the two of you weighed your options over which one to go to. “The Sigs are throwing one, but I’d rather die. Delta’s throwing one, too, we’ll go to theirs instead. And maybe see if anyone’s at the Sig party that we like and stop there before heading back to the dorms.”

You walked down with them to the Athletic Department, hoping to have gotten there early enough to get a good spot. As soon as the doors opened, you were filtered through the doors, making sure that you were students with the college. The three of you half ran to the barricade, settling yourselves against it on the right side, although still somewhat in the middle.

The show wouldn’t start for quite some time yet, the three of you talked amongst yourselves about upcoming finals, what you had to do for various classes. You also found a few people around you to chat to while you waited, hearing laughter roaring through various parts of the crowd.

A few students from the Admissions Office had taken the stage, playing a random playlist of music that matched what the band was going to be playing. Rock thundered through the speakers, filling audience members with anticipation. Rochel addressed the student body, “Hello everyone!” welcomed by the sounds of cheers and screaming.

“We’ve got about fifteen minutes before the band comes on stage, so help us warm them up to the stage!” Everyone clapped, although some of the girls around you looked unenthused as they stared down at their phones. You checked yours for any text messages from any family members. You had nothing, so you put it back in your pocket.

Around four songs played before Rochel turned the microphone on again. Everyone shouted before she talked. “Well, it’s that time! Please, give a warm welcome to Greta Van Fleet!”

Rochel and the two other students walked off the stage, passing by what you had assumed to be one of the band members. He sat behind the drums, smiling and waving off into the crowd. You cheered for him along with Tamia and Mel, cheering just as loud when their bassist walked onto the stage. Both of their hair was longer, goofy smiles on their faces as they got situated with their instruments.

Your mouth hung open as you watched the last two boys walk on stage, seeing the twins. Jake’s eyes scanned the crowd as he slung his guitar over his shoulder. He found you after a moment, sending a smirk your way. You closed your mouth, glaring at him. Mel laughed at you, noticing your demeanor shift. “How we doin’ tonight everyone?”

Everyone cheered. “A lot of you might know me and Jake, seen us on campus and stuff. It’s wonderful to see all of you here, coming to support us as we celebrate the onslaught of spring! It’s been a particularly warm one today, so make sure to drink water! There’s plenty to go around.”

Jake started them off, pick between his fingers as he strummed the beginning chords to one of their songs. Some of the girls had begun to scream, shouting at Jake’s response to Josh’s little speech before he began playing. His signature smirk formed, watching the girls go crazy, eyes scanning the crowd before he found you again.

As Jake continued to play, he looked over to you any time he could. It was hard to tear your eyes away from him, enthralled by the way he looked on stage. You tried your hardest, truly, to look at any of the other boys on the stage aside from Jake but you just couldn’t. He fit the stage just right, bringing the attention away from Josh and demanding to be seen by the entirety of the crowd. He belonged up there.

Jake went to the center of the stage during his solo. Josh lingered around the drummer, keeping to himself, drinking whatever was in his cup. They kept on playing as Jake took the spotlight, everyone cheering and screaming for him. You kept silent, wanting to hear him play. His fingers worked against the frets of the guitar, not before sliding down and up it quickly. 

You tried to hide the awe you were in, but your friends knew. They saw it written all over your face. The frustration and annoyance you felt when you first spotted Jake on stage dissipated the second his guitar solo began. You swallowed thickly, watching as his attention turned from his guitar to you, pointing it in your direction. Your cheeks flushed, and your thighs pressed together.

This was going to be a long night.

The second the concert was over, Josh thanked everyone for coming. His smile was wide as he waved goodbye to everyone, walking off next to Jake who had his guitar by the neck before he passed it off to one of the stage hands. Josh put his hands on his shoulders as they walked off stage.

You stuck around mostly waiting for the crowd to die down before trying to leave the building. Mel and Tamia talked about the show, saying that it was fucking dope, commenting on how excellent Jake’s playing was. You didn’t speak about Jake’s playing, mostly praising Josh for his spectacular performance. “I never expected that voice to come out of him, how heavenly.”

“Talking about me?” Jake cuts through your conversation, walking over to you with Josh not far behind. You roll your eyes. Tamia and Mel congratulate him on such an amazing performance, gushing about how sweet his guitar looks. “Why thank you, ladies.”

“Mel! I didn’t think you were going to be able to come.” He gushed, wiping his hands on the sides of his khaki shorts he had changed into.

“Yeah, well, Miss Quiet over here wanted to see her archnemesis, didn’t you?”

“I-I–” You turned your head slightly towards Jake, who had an amused smirk written all over his face. “I did not, Mellie, stop lying.”

“By the redness of your cheeks, sweetheart, I’d say she was telling the truth.” You had barely noticed that Mel, Tamia and Josh had slipped away from the two of you, leaving you alone.

“I didn’t even know you were playing.” You admitted shyly, hiding underneath a guise of innocence.

“Even if you did, you looked pretty hot and bothered by my playing.” You held the back of your arms, trying hard to maintain eye contact with him. You looked into his eyes, they were staring straight at you.

“Yeah, sure. I actually came because Josh said he was going. He neglected to mention that he was going to be singing,” you looked at Josh who wore a smile that read ‘guilty as charged’ before patting you on the shoulder.

“Hey, you didn’t ask. You just asked if I was going.” You rolled your eyes and chuckled slightly. “Anyways, Sam and Danny are gonna spend the night in my room, so I’ll have to find somewhere else to be tonight. Are you guys going to either of the frat parties tonight?”

“We’re going to the Delta party. The Sigs’ reputation is not the best, and I don’t feel like seeing whether or not it’s right.”

“That is completely understandable. I shall see you ladies there then. You coming, Jake? We still have a lot to put away.”

“Yeah, in a second,” he turned towards Josh who had begun to walk away, waving him off before turning back to the three of you. “I hope you guys enjoyed the show, maybe I’ll catch up with you at the party.”

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

“Yeah, actually, I would.” He smiled at you before joining the other boys cleaning up their amps and cords.

“Jesus Christ, the two of you just need to fuck or something. I don’t think I can handle another interaction like that,” Mel joked, making a gagging face when she finishes her sentence. You pushed at her arm, turning around and walking out of the gym.

Tamia and Mel giggled profusely about your and Jake’s rivalry. The two even started making bets on when the two of you would finally ‘get it on’, as Tamia put it. You just rolled your eyes at the conversation, changing the subject to something different.

—

The party, though filled with lots of fun and drinking, was a bust. While Josh had shown up with his younger brother and his brother’s friend, as you learned, in tow, Jake was nowhere to be found. You thought to ask Josh why he wasn’t there, but he was too busy dancing with Micah. Through the grapevine, you learned that Micah and Josh had been together since high school.

You stayed around the party for almost two hours before you wanted to go back. A small part of you had wished Jake had actually come. You wondered if maybe the two of you would get along if you put your competitive nature aside. You tried not to dwell on thoughts of Jake’s absence for too long, wanting to enjoy the rest of the night with your girls. But when you had enough of the party, you shouted in Mel’s ear to let her know you wanted to leave.

Mel and Tamia had made sure you got back alright about two hours into the party. Your legs were tired and your feet had begun to hurt. The two of them stumbled with you back to the door of your building, making sure you were inside before leaving to go back. They almost came in with you, until you insisted otherwise.

Laying on your bed with your head pointed towards the ceiling you started thinking about Jake again. What was his reason for not being at the party? Did he just make those comments beforehand just to rile you up? It seemed like the only valid reason your impaired mind could come up with.

You grabbed your phone, almost dropping it on the floor. You sluggishly opened Instagram, and searched for Jake’s profile. You scrolled through, looking at the few photos he did have on his page. Most of the pictures he had were of his guitar, or places he’s traveled. You were sent into a panic when you realized you had accidentally liked an older picture of Jake’s, one from freshman year of college. Hurriedly, you unliked it and immediately locked your phone.

That had been a few days ago.

Now it was Wednesday and your first final exam was here. It was for the class you shared with Jake, BIO 312.  It wasn’t exactly final exam time, but Professor Heinz was going to be away at a conference for a week starting Friday. You didn’t mind, though, since it spaced out your other finals enough to have a decent amount of time to study for them.

You sat at your desk, looking over your notecards one last time before the exam began. A frequent look around the room and you noticed Jake walking in, going to a random seat a couple rows in front of you. He set his bag down next to him, before bending down to grab his laptop. He noticed you watching him and sent a wink your way.

You looked away as you tried to hide the rush of rosy skin that fanned over your cheeks and heated up your ears. You tried to ignore him again until at least when the test started, embarrassed that you got caught looking at him. Your phone pinged and you pulled it out of your bag to look at it, as well as turn it on silent.

jacobtkiszka wants to send you a message.

You swallowed and hit the notification taking you straight to the message.

“Person who turns their test in last pays for coffee?”

Your lips curved into a small smile, feeling your fingers type the first thing that comes to your head.

“Hope you brought your wallet with you, Kiszka.”

You put your phone on Do Not Disturb and shoved it back into your bag. The professor walked through the door, setting her things down on the desk in the front of the room. Her coffee mug still had steam coming from it, freshly poured. A quick look of her watch after getting settled and it was time to start the exam. “Okay, everyone. It’s time for class. Take out your laptops and begin your exam. You may leave when you have finished. Thank you for a great semester, and good luck.”

The questions on the exam were all ones that you knew and had studied for for weeks. It was strenuous, trying to remember everything on the cumulative exam. You had hoped it would go quickly and you would answer them faster than Jake could. Occasionally, you turned to look at Jake, seeing if maybe he was trying to look at you too.

With one question left of your exam, you click the answer and press submit after a minute of debate. You had a bad habit of second guessing yourself occasionally; it was actually the bane of your testing experiences. You hated when you felt confident about an answer, until you really sat with the other possible answers it could be.

You put your laptop back into your bag, zipped it up and noticed that Jake had already left. You cursed to yourself, knowing that now you had to buy Jake a coffee. You waved goodbye to your professor with a smile and walked out the doors. Jake sat outside of the classroom at one of the tables they had throughout the building. “Whatcha reading?”

“Josh recommended it to me, but I’m going to be honest, I fucking hate this book.” He laughed, shoving it into his bag. “You know any good coffee shops around here? I’m kind of tired of Starbucks.”

“I just so happen to know the best coffee shop in town, but it is a bit of a walk, if you don’t mind that?” You asked, walking through the door that Jake was holding before muttering a thank you to him. 

“I could also drive, if you’re okay with that.”

“I’m more than okay with that,” you chuckle, letting him know that your dorm building had enough stairs; any chance you could get to use an elevator, or get driven somewhere, you would take that opportunity in a heartbeat.

The drive was short in comparison to the twenty minute walk it would have taken to get to the shop. Jake tried to offer the radio to you, but you let him play what he wanted to listen to. You didn’t know exactly who was playing, but the blues music that played through the speakers was a breath of fresh air.

Your typical shuffle had a plethora of music from differing genres, whether that be rap or old country. You hadn’t known much when it came to blues music, especially the difference between good blues music and bad. Eventually, you got the courage to ask who was playing and Jake answered, letting you know that the song was by Buddy Guy. “It’s called She Suits Me To A T. I tried for weeks to learn this song when I first started playing music more seriously.”

“This is the coffee shop, at the next corner.” You watched his hand as he made a right turn, noticing him steering with just the palm of his hand. Letting the leather steering wheel glide back to its original position in his hand, elbow propped on the door with the window rolled down.

It’s all you thought about on your way into the coffee shop, completely relying on autopilot. Your responses to Jake were almost textbook, one word sentences that could continue the conversation without much effort. “What’re you thinking of getting?”

“Oh, um, I’m not sure. I usually have them surprise me,” you admit, shoving your hands into your jacket. “Sometimes it’s good, sometimes it’s not. That’s the gamble you take.”

“I like that a lot, actually. I think I’ll have them surprise me too, if you don’t mind.”

“No, not at all.” You smiled at Jake before he went to order for the two of you. You found a place to sit in the meantime, offering a spot towards the windows so you could watch people come and go, each on their own paths of life.

By the time Jake sat down, both of the coffees were in his hand. After a few questions, Jake set the iced drink down in front of you, and the hot drink in front of himself. “Yours is an iced chai, with brown sugar syrup and vanilla. Mine is some sort of tea, I wasn’t really paying attention to what she was saying. I just wanted to remember what she put in yours in case you liked it.”

“Oh,” you spoke, bringing the cup towards you. “Thank you, that’s really sweet. Do you like your drink?”

“You know, it’s really not bad. I wouldn’t have gotten it otherwise, but it’s really not bad.”

“You hate it.”

“I hate it. It’s not good.” The two of you chuckled before you offered him a sip of your drink. “Mhmm,” he moaned. “That’s good, oh my God.”

The two of you continued small talk, whether it was over the classes you had previously taken, memories of parties from past years – anything. You shared previous high school experiences, mostly about the ridiculous things that were considered parties in your teenage years.

Conversation with Jake was surprisingly a lot easier than you thought it would be. Especially since you’ve hated him pretty much your entire college career. You figured he’d be stuck up, aware of his academic achievements and ready to flaunt them in front of anyone who’d listen.

He was the opposite. His sentences were wrapped with kindness, and the reflection in his voice seemed nothing but positive. His voice was like silk, he could’ve talked you into damn near anything as long as his voice sounded like that. It hurt when the conversation slowed, spending a few moments to take in the scene around you two, as well as finally being able to drink more of your drink (which was very delicious, it was almost like crack).

“How long have you been playing guitar?” You asked after the silence became almost uncomfortable to sit with.

“Oh jeez. I’ve been playing since I was… like three? Yeah, three.” You stared at him with eyes slightly wide, mouth agape. “What?”

“N-Nothing, that’s just a really long time. You’re what, 21 now?” He clarified that he was only twenty, his birthday roughly a week away. You poked fun at him, mentioning how you were older, even if it was by less than a year.

“Josh is throwing us a birthday party, if you want to come. Since it’ll be our 21st, we’re having it at our parents cabin on Lake Michigan. You’re welcome to bring Mel and Tamia if you’d like. Sam and Danny are going to be there, even though they’re underage, but we’re gonna pretend like they’re older.” Jake spoke with one last sip of his drink, letting the empty cup echo on the table as he set it down.

“I will let Mel and Mia know. I can’t make any sure decisions without talking to them first, but I’m pretty damn sure that they’ll say they would love to go.”

“Yeah, I don’t think they’ll say no either. They seem pretty adamant that you have a little crush on me or something,” he said, putting your cups inside of a bus tub to be picked up and washed.

“I don’t have a crush on you,” you laughed, walking out of the coffee shop with Jake. “I actually hate you, remember?”

“You may say that you hate me, but you’re not really good at showing it.”

[ii-neg-confessions]

I get frustrated every time someone tells me that the spoon can't be a colonizer or a manipulator or that he's literally just a twink. Like I swear I'm being gaslit into thinking that racism against Asian people doesn't exist and it drives me nuts

Like, okay. Let's say he's not rich or British or white. Does that excuse what he does? He scoffs at religious practices until he learns that the highest state of nirvana grants Candle powers that he doesn't have, powers he doesn't understand. So he deliberately tries to kill Candle for her Inner Flame on two separate occasions, and then he flaunts said power to come off as some all-powerful god to convince people that he deserves the vote because "look what I can do!" And when Candle is righteously upset about her relatively sacred meditative practices being used for boasting, he gets so mad at her that he summons the power to knock her dead. And that's not even excusing the fact that he mostly gets off scot-free, that no one brings this up again, that Candle has to hype him up for feeling guilty for attempted murder instead of getting upset at him for betraying her trust.

Is something not clicking for everyone or is it just me? For the past decade, the fandom has accepted that objects can have gender identities and sexualities through hinted dialogue that isn't explicitly said. That's coding and that's totallly okay. So why is it that we don't accept coding for racial identities? Why is Candle, who literally says terms from Buddhist and Hindu and Taoist philosophies in her regular practices, not allowed to be seen as South/East Asian? And thus, why is criticism about how someone approaches her religion with disdain but hunger for the power it provides not allowed to be seen as directly related to her culture? Why can't a man who intends to boil down an entire culture to fit his lifestyle instead of kneeling down to accept it as it is not seen as at least bigoted or racist, if not incredibly colonialist because he's trying to take down the actual person to act under his will too?

Would the fandom better understand if I dropped the race matter? What if I just said "it's a bad ship because he's using her to get what he wants and doesn't consider her feelings"? And if that makes more sense than the original theory I presented, why is that? Is the fandom colorblind to real-world struggles? Why won't anyone look at this through a lens of any other color?

- orientalism anon

-

[storiesofsvu]

Solace in Solitude Ch 8

Future Emily Prentiss x reader Warnings: language, usual ptsd type situations/conversations, mentions of death. If this chapter had a title it would be "Trauma Bonding" our girls are finally breaking down the last of their walls and learning to rely on each other to get through it. I promise more actual comfort in future chapters! we've gone from enemies to friends, two more steps to go!

Emily shifted in her sleep, letting out a quiet grunt at whatever was trapped between her and the bed. She tugged at the sheet, thinking it was bunched up underneath her, praying she could hold onto the tired and be able to get back to sleep, knowing that if she opened her eyes she’d lose it. She shifted again and that resulted in a groan leaving her lips as she pushed it deeper into the mattress. She was acutely aware that it was warmer than usual in her bedroom and figured the weather was going to be nicer today. That was until something shifted behind her and she realized the last thing she could remember was you coming into her room mid nightmare.

“Ow…” You mumbled, voice thick with sleep, “get off me.” You nudged her and Emily jolted away from you to the other edge of the bed.

“What the fuck are you doing in my bed?!” She shrieked and you winced, sitting up as you rubbed your eyes.

“You asked me to stay.” You replied with a grumble, already pushing back the blankets.

“Yeah until I was calmed down, not all night!”

“I wasn’t the one having nightmares!” You shot back, “you fell asleep on my fucking arm and have been lying on it all night.” You shook out your arm, flexing your hand in an attempt to get some feeling back into it, “god you’re annoying.”

“We are never speaking of this again.” She warned.

“Already forgotten.”

You were through the door and it was swinging shut behind you before Emily could even think about trying to get another word in. Instead she let out a frustrated groan, clutching the blankets around her as she collapsed back into the pillows, her cheeks a bright shade of pink she desperately wanted to disappear. She wasn’t even sure if she was more embarrassed about being vulnerable the night before, or for feeling comfortable and safe enough around you to fall back asleep.

Either way, she was mad at herself. She was supposed to hate you.

Despite the utter embarrassment she did end up falling back asleep for a few more hours and was incredibly thankful that they were dreamless. She spent more than a few mindless hours marathoning a show and was only alerted of you when she heard the front door swing shut. Glancing at her watch she deduced that it was the usual time you hit the gym on your days off work and figured this was her chance to utilize the rest of the apartment.

There was a hot pot of coffee with just enough for two mugs left in it and a Tupperware container with a still warm brunch burrito on the counter, both no doubt left for her. She said a silent thank you and devoured both, spending a little bit of time tidying up around the apartment, specifically making sure the balcony was cleaned up from the night prior. It was mid afternoon by the time she heard the elevator ping and grabbed a snack to disappear back into her room until you were asleep.

You unlocked the apartment door and weren’t too surprised to find her still hiding, while you had no residual embarrassment about falling asleep in her bed it was clear she did and you weren’t about to push it. You did take it as a positive note that it was clear she had left her room while you were gone and continued into the kitchen to throw dinner into the oven before you jumped in the shower.

Knowing that night hours were usually the time Emily was awake you figured you’d leave the shared spaces open for her, plating up your dinner, grabbing a wine glass so you could tuck the bottle under your arm to hole up in your own room. You did leave the door open about a quarter in case she did end up being open for socializing or needed anything from you. You grabbed your tablet, propping it up and tossing on whatever your most recent binge had been to have on in the background while you ate dinner, scrolling through a few emails to get a handle on what your scheduled week looked like back at the hospital.

Emily heard the scrape of a fork on a bowl, followed by the clunk of said bowl being placed down on your nightstand. She let out a soft sigh, now that she had been fully awake she’d been able to piece together the nightmare and the conversation following it. She’d spent an hour untangling what she knew she said and what she figured she was imagining, de-fogging her brain if you will. Incredibly reluctantly she slipped from under the bedsheets, pulling her sweater tighter around her as she meandered the two feet from her bedroom door to yours, poking at it so it crept a couple more inches open. You were sitting against the headboard, your legs pulled up crisscross with your laptop balanced in front of them, your focus completely on it. You had glasses on she’d never seen you wear before, a notebook beside you as you typed away on your computer. You could sense that she was there and were waiting for her to say something but she continued to just linger awkwardly in the door way.

“The pan on the stove is for you.” You said, not looking up.

“What?” She asked, glancing over her shoulder.

“Dinner.” You replied, picking up a pen to scribble something down in the notebook, “I made double.”

“Oh. Yeah. Thanks.” She crossed her arms over her chest as her stomach growled lightly. When she didn’t move you finally glanced up at her, a brow cocked in her direction.

“You need something else?”

“I— uh.” She shuffled awkwardly, “yeah…”

“You’re hovering.” Your head titled, “I only had the one joint and if I’m gonna get you more you’re gonna swear you’re not gonna take your meds on top of it.”

“Oh.. no.” She quickly shook her head, “that’s not it at all.”

“You okay?”

She tugged her lower lip into her mouth, chewing on it as she stared at her feet, finally letting out a low breath. “Everything I said last night? I… I shouldn’t have told you, like, any of it.”

“It’s fine.” You shrugged, “it’s not exactly like I have anyone to tell it to anyways. You needed to get it off your chest.”

“I still shouldn’t have.” Her tone nearly changed to snapping at you, though she was more mad at herself at this point, “I never should have brought up Declan. No one’s supposed to know about him and I basically doxed him to you.”

“I’m trusted with keeping the fact that you’re alive a secret, at this point, what’s one more.” You shrugged again, turning back to the article in front of you. “Besides, didn’t you say Doyle thinks he’s dead?”

“No.” She sighed heavily, “I thought I had the upper hand, gave it up to Doyle in the last few minutes before…”

She trailed off and it was your turn to nod silently, “mmm. Yeah, you were getting pretty mumbly right before you fell asleep, I didn’t get everything.”

“It’s classified information.” This time she did nearly snap, though her gaze remained trained on the floor in front of her, “I said things that I don’t want you knowing…”

“Okay.” You raised your hands in surrender, “not another word.” You mimed zipping your mouth shut and throwing away the key.

“Thanks.” She muttered, letting out a shaky sigh.

“You know…” you pulled your laptop half shut, giving her your full attention, “you’re allowed to be scared. You’re allowed to feel vulnerable. I know it’s gotta be tough for anyone with your background in your field, you’re not any less of a person or weak just because you talked about your feelings. You don’t always need to be the bad ass.”

“Being the so called bad ass is exactly what got me here in the first place.” Emily felt the shame coating over her once again, attempting to hold back the tears, “I dealt with him on my own the first time, I thought I could handle it alone and I was stupid to believe that. I fucked things up and I’m solely responsible for it all.”

“First off, anyone who can do what you do is the furthest from stupid.” You scolded, “secondly, you don’t have to burden yourself with everything, you don’t have to do it all alone. You’ve got people you can rely on.”

“You’ve made a clear point of that.” She mumbled, gesturing over her shoulder to the kitchen, “at first I was mortified to have a babysitter but I clearly couldn’t have done it alone, and I was an asshole about it the entire time.”

“Is that an apology I hear hiding in there?” The corner of your lips curved up into a smirk and she huffed out a laugh accompanied with an eye roll.

“Thanks for dinner.” She turned away from your doorway and you called over her shoulder.

“Hey! Have you checked out that online scrabble app?”

“No.” She turned back to you with a perplexed look on her face.

“You might want to.” You opened your laptop again, getting settled back to where you were, “there’s Cheeto’s in the pantry, grab a bag, play a game tonight.”

**

While the environment in the apartment had definitely began to improve over the next few weeks, Emily noticed the way you started to isolate yourself even more. She wasn’t one to pry, especially with how withholding she’d been herself since meeting you, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t curious. It seemed you were either at the hospital or working on whatever research at home. She saw a list of names and phone numbers that looked like they were located all over the world and could hear you on the phone at strange hours of the night. The conversations were hushed, some in English, some in French and some in butchered foreign languages, lengthy pauses while you would google translate something to say only for the person on the other end of the line to have to do the same.

She noticed the caffeine consumption between the two of you skyrocket and it was clear you were exhausted and whatever was going on was dragging you down. The bags under your eyes ever apparent and after a week or two you weren’t bothering to try and cover them up with make up. She wondered if she should be worried the first night you didn’t come home from work, but her phone buzzed just before midnight with a brief apology explaining you’d be staying in an on call room the next two nights and to not stress about it.

When you did eventually get home from that stint you found a container of homemade cinnamon rolls with an ‘eat me’ label on them, a freshly stocked wine nook, a very clean apartment and new groceries in the fridge. You very gratefully took two of the buns before disappearing into your room that night and Emily had no problems picking up the duties that were continually slipping through the cracks. She was feeling more energetic and mobile now, so there was no reason she couldn’t be the one throwing together meals and keeping things clean.

She didn’t think much of it until she heard your phone ring in the middle of the night, jolting her from her nightly television marathon as her eyes flicked towards your bedroom door. She heard your answer groggily but could almost feel the tension in the building crack as you quickly found your voice and the entire mood shifted. Your voice was quiet, shaky and she heard you say something about sending money before there was a brief conversation followed by a solemn good bye and I love you. It was nearly an hour later she realized the noise she thought was coming from the air conditioner was actually coming from your room and it sounded an awful lot like you were doing your best not to cry too loudly.

Emily knew that your business was your business, so she kept her head down and let you isolate in your room or vanish off to whatever parts of Paris you were at while you were out of the house. She noticed that your late night phone calls had come to a halt, and the amount of research you appeared to be doing had decreased. It was just about two weeks later when she couldn’t sleep, a bird chirping directly outside her window waking her up around three in the afternoon when she was surprised to hear you in your room. It was almost like you were watching something, but the sound quality wasn’t as good as tv would be, and she could hear you sniffling every so often. Not wanting to eavesdrop, she popped her ear buds in and turned on her tablet to distract her.

An hour later you shut your laptop, wiping what was left of your tears off your cheeks, dropping back onto the bed with a heavy sigh. You didn’t want to move but you were out of Kleenex and figured it might help to wash your face with cold water and you needed to get started on dinner. So you powered through and wandered over to the bathroom, grabbing a fresh box of tissues to blow your nose a couple of times and dab at your eyes before splashing water on your face. You were turned toward the towel rack, drying off your face when your head tilted toward the door and you jumped, letting out a quiet shriek as Emily did the same, tearing the ear bud out of her ear.

“I’m so sorry!”

“Fuck!” You countered, taking a second to try and catch your breath, “I thought you’d still be asleep for another hour.”

“Noisy neighbour.” She shrugged with an awkward laugh, gesturing toward her room and your brow furrowed, causing her to stumble over her words as she tried to explain she didn’t mean you. “Uh, birds.”

“Oh. Okay.” You picked at the sleeve of your hoodie, gesturing past her toward the kitchen, “I was just gonna start dinner.”

“Oh, you don’t have to.” She waved you off, “I can do it. Or we can order, uh—I could order. Not like I do much around here anyway.”

“No, no…” You wrapped an arm around your waist, your gaze darting between just over Emily’s shoulder and the floor. “You’ve actually been doing a lot recently, thank you. I kinda dropped the ball majorly…” Your hand wrapped around the cuff of your hoodie, wiping at your nose quickly as you sniffed and Emily frowned, her voice impeccably soft when she spoke next.

“Hey… I don’t wanna stick my nose where it doesn’t belong, but are you… okay?”

You took a shaky breath, looking up at the ceiling to keep any fresh tears at bay, “uh.. my mom died about two weeks ago.” You risked a glance up at her and caught just the moment her face fell.

“Oh god. I’m so sorry.” Without even thinking she stepped forward and wrapped you into a tight hug, feeling relief flow through her at the way you relaxed into her arms, letting the embrace continue for a moment, endorphins slowly creeping their way into your system to calm you down before you gently pulled away, finally able to step out into the main apartment, not so trapped in the bathroom anymore.

“We knew it was coming, she’d been sick for a while and nothing her doctors were doing was helping much at this point, just delaying the inevitable.”

“I take it all that late night research wasn’t related to your project then?” She asked and you shook your head.

“No. I tracked down as many specialists as I could, there either wasn’t enough research to prove it or things weren’t FDA approved.” You suddenly reached out, squeezing at her elbow, “sorry, I didn’t want to drag you into all this, if I’d known you were up I would’ve declined the call or something.” She only looked at you with a quizzical expression on her features, “my sister face timed me for the service.” You gestured toward your bedroom, “you never think it’s gonna be that hard, like you’ve already had time to cope but it just….”

“Brings back more memories.” She frowned and you nodded, “can I do anything? You want a drink? A smoke?”

“Oh god, yes.” You groaned, “honestly if I knew where you’d stashed them I’d owe you a pack by now.”

That earned a small smile from Emily as she squeezed at your shoulder before disappearing into her room, unsurprised to find you waiting on the balcony with two glasses of liquor. It was quiet out on the balcony, she handed off the pack and lighter to you first as she settled in her chair, picking up the drink for a sip before lighting her own cigarette. About halfway through curiosity got the best of her and she looked your way,

“How come you didn’t go home? At least for a couple of days?”

An awkward air overtook the two of you as you avoided her gaze, taking a longer drag of the smoke before fiddling with the sleeve of your sweater.

“I wasn’t allowed.” You admitted, “I asked. I called the Suit, your boss, what’s his name?” You looked up at her and she could see the fresh shimmer of tears in your eyes.

“Hotch?”

“Yeah, him.” You sighed, “he told me that I cannot leave Paris until it’s cleared  by the FBI. Sent his deepest condolences and my sister said there was an anonymous donation that helped with funeral funds so he didn’t do nothing but it still sucks.”

“That’s bullshit.” Emily exclaimed, “what the fuck?”

“Something about how I can be traced back to the hospital, that my name was on your paperwork, I signed your death certificate. If I suddenly flew back to Boston for a couple of days and then got on a plane back here instead of Haiti I could lead people straight to you.” You looked over at her, “the entire thing would risk blowing your cover.”

Emily’s eyes widened, her mouth dropping open for a moment while she processed everything, realizing now that you truly were trapped here just as much as she was. Her reckless behaviour hadn’t just messed with her team and sent her into hiding, it had uprooted your entire life too.

“I’m so sorry…”

“It’s fine.” You waved her off, “I’m pretty sure I could have said no about coming out here, fought it a little harder. I already knew she was sick, I just thought…” You stalled in your words, closing your eyes for a moment before you shook out of it, “it’s not like it’s your fault.”

“I mean—”

“No more of that!” You turned to her with a stern expression on your face and as taken aback as she was at first she realized where you were going with it, “as your unofficial shrink, that’s the homework I’m giving you, stop blaming yourself for everything. Learn to let things go.”

“Okay.” She held up her hands, leaning back in her chair, “message received, Dr. Carter.”

“Even if it is technically your shitty decision making that results in crap, make a sincere apology, and then it’s over.”

“Doesn’t help that I’ve been a bit of a cunt about the whole thing when you’ve just been keeping me alive.”

“Eh,” you took another drag of the smoke, “your taste in cigarettes has to make up for something. And those cinnamon rolls, did you sneak those out of the packaging or were they homemade?”

“From scratch.” She turned to you with a proud smile and you let out a small laugh.

“If they happen to appear on a weekly basis I’ll take a few numbers off your bitch tab.”

“Mark that as noted.” She laughed softly, relishing in the more relaxed feeling of the evening. Cautiously, she reached out, grabbing your free hand with hers to get your attention, squeezing gently, “hey, and I know I kinda suck majorly at the whole talking thing, but I’ve been told I’m a pretty good listener, so anytime you wanna talk about this, I’m here.”

You smiled softly, nodding back at her and both of you felt the tensions from the previous months slowly melting as you continued to knock down each other’s walls.

“I know…”

_______________________

@mickey-gomez @momlifebehard @daddy-heather-dunbar @mandy-asimp @leftoverenvy @kades95 @dextur @supercriminalbean @daffodil-heart @its-soph-xx xx @just-a-torn-up-masterpiece @hopelesslyfallenninlove @peanutbutterprincess @emilyprentisssluvr @lex13cm @zizzlekwum @emobabeyy @riveramorylunar @s1ut4nat @happenstnces @sapphicprentiss @geekyandgay98 @pagetboobstarcomments @onmykneesformarvel @inlovewithemilyprentiss @desperate-gay @amypoehlfey @overtrred28 @theclassicgaycousin @regalmilfs4me @kalixxh @ara-a-bird @five-bi-five-mind @niyizh @inlovewithmiddleagewomen @tommyriddleobsessed @hotchs-bitch @ollysmulti @kmc1989 @irishavengersassemble @romanoffsho @ratsnestinmyhair @assgardangod @originalbrunettecharacter @elz-artzzz @hopedoesntknow @dj-bynum3718 @venromanova @waitaminuteashh @noahrex @imlike-so-gaydude @boimlers-gonna-boim @nachofriess @wittygutsy @cx-emerald-cx

[thatdeadaquarius]

hi! quick tip: if you’re on mobile type ‘:readmore:’ then hit enter! i dunno if you’ve been told but. yeah :)

also, your recent piece on apd was incredible!! very nice to see representation!! keep up the excellent work <3 it did get me thinking though: reader with vocal stims, cementing it in the acolytes’ minds that you don’t speak the language of teyvat, and then you’re all just stuck in this loop of “oh man they don’t speak the same language of me” but they DO

if asks are closed or this is outside of your comfort zone then feel free to delete! have a lovely day <3

AHFJLAKLOSUDBABWB U FELT REPRESENTED YAY!!

A cookie for thee, and also extra for telling me how to do Expand thingy on mobile ilysm 🤲🍩🍪✨️ (pspspsps all askers,, u get cookies,,cometothedarksidepspspspspsss)

I was so worried bc it wasnt like super all the aspects of Apd issues, and it was very based on my personal experience w/ similar symptoms + other bits of ppl's experience so i was hoping it still felt somewhat recognizable for ppl w/APD!! Tysm for the feedback :D

NOTE ABOUT VOCAL STIM DEPICTED:

So i think ive experienced verbal stims, so this is a combination of others shared experiences + personal experience, and while everybody experiences things individually/their own way, please let me know if there is something obviously inaccurate/maybe even offensive.

You will definitely not make me mad or otherwise offended, I really want to hear that kind of feedback from others who vocal stim!

Thank you so much for reading! :)

___________________♡_____________________

So lets just say that ur vocal stims r pretty non-verbal or non-sensical ("her sister was a WITCH BRO-" like memes that dont make sense to them)

Or like, u have verbal stims that r actual language but they dont hang around long enough to hear it maybe ??

♤

So like, this ends up happening

Chongyun was exploring near Qingce village for supernatural stuff as usual

And U were just vibin, chillin near Qingce village livin ur best Creator god cottagecore life

And ur like planting a new seedbed, Jueyun Chilis :) (bc jfc however bad it was to collect them in game, its 10x worse in person, ur tired of running around town getting chilis, Qingce isnt exactly flat 💀)

♡

And every seed u put in the dirt ur like "boop!"

And Chongyun comes by, bc u at edge of town, and the villagers mentioned a strange new traveler settling here

He immediately feels a wave of that same feeling he used to feel when the Creator god had their eyes on him, or would assist him in battles

So poor boy almost overheats trying to climb up the hill to ur house

And is like "??...Creator??"

Then kinda stops bc ur just like-

"Boop!" "Boop!" "Boop!" ☺️ LMAO

And then u finish planting seeds, get the watering can,,

And everytime u pour it just-

... "EJACK! Come, water!"

(Ur saying it so fast too, and he's still somewhat farther away, so he cant rlly hear that well too)

...

..

And its just so incomprehensible to Chongyun he's deadass like "A DIFFERENT LANGUAGE??!"

So of course,

He waves, 👋

And ur like omg icy boy!! :D 🧊💙

But u dont say anything yet, and then he starts,, miming?? He points at u? Then like?? Points up? The sky?? Then like, mimes swinging his claymore???

(ARE U THE CREATOR??!!)

U look up, very confused 🧐

He seemes frustrated.

Then he just kinda, bows and leaves?

...

...oh no.

Do Teyvat people speak that crazy language that u saw in game?

Instead of English??

Well.

Shit.

...

.... U havent rlly talked to anyone in Qingce yet since u just got here in Teyvat like a week ago

And found this abandoned house

♧

It just gets worse 😭

Bc slowly, one by one,

Each playable character in Liyue comes to attempt to talk to you

(And since u have a farm, and they keep giving u food/goods? For some reason?? U still dont need to go into town)

☆

At one point, even Zhongli shows up

And thru complex miming and hand motions u think he means dont worry abt him? Like just go back to what u were doing?? Okay??

U guess he's just gonna chill here for now?

...

...Zhongli just kinda,, squints, and puts his hand on his chin in his classic "thinking very hard" face

So ur tending to the garden saying,

" FREDDY! You're supposed to be on lockdown!Vanessa...I'm... a Material Gworl✨️"💀

...Just, on an endless loop LMAO-

...

(Hes trying to see if he recognizes any part of ur language, poor old man 🤔🤔😭)

♤

And it just snowballs even more, and now,

None of you have even tried to say a word to each other. 🤡

(Other than ur vocal stims)

...

Keqing: "Perhaps, it's similar to Fontaine's native language?"

You, in the background: "🎵 dUdE,,, sHe'S jUsT nOt InTo YoU 🎵" (mimicking the autotune and everything)

Ganyu & Keqing: "..."

You: " 🎵 gOtTa MoVe On, mOvE oN-🎵 Hurricane Katrina?? More like Hurricane Tortilla!"

Ganyu & Keqing: "...Can't be,"

"what else do we got? Should we call Yunjin to better mime for us??"

♡

Xiao's the first one to even get close to knowing u can actually talk to each other, bc he's always checking in on u most often <3

And he only heard u bc u swore u heard a monster outside ur house one night and came out ur house with a pitchfork, very nervous,

"...Hey there demons.. it's me.. ya boy."

(And u just keep stimming that out of nervousness to make urself feel better as u check around ur house lol)

Xiao: "??? Demons???!! WAIT-"

♧

By then, it literally took like 6 months for yall to finally have a real conversation 💀💀

...

(Chongyun got so embarassed bc he was one of the first few to misunderstand he overheated rip🙏)

Im. So. Sorry. This. Is. ✨️Ass✨️

Twas the best scenario i could come up with, im telling yall, im not as funny as the ppl who send in these asks 😔

Keep in mind, I never claimed i was funny or a good writer, u cant hold it against me lol /lh

Lower ur expectations LMAO

Well i hope u got sm enjoyment outta this anon, sorry abt the quality!! :)

Cheers,

🌒🌊🌧Aquarius♒️🌌🌘