#how do u project that hard and NOT NOTICE. such is the power of the Zone

[stargirllanaa]

Death Grips. II - R.C

Dark!Frat!Rafe Cameron x f!reader

Warnings: Dv( physical abuse),NONCON, Mentions of Dv, Cheating, mentions of cheating, abusive relationship, gaslighting, manipulation, frat!rafe, blackmail, emotional abuse, underage drinking, he’s an asshole guys

Summary: inspired by ‘death grips’ by Etta Marcus/ After a messy break up with Rafe Cameron your freshman year of college, he can’t seem to leave you alone. Whether you’re awake or asleep

Series masterlist 

A/n: hey guys, I’m currently out of the country so this took me a little longer than I wanted it to but hope u enjoy and pls leave feedback and lmk how u like it!

Part: II

………

As you stormed to your dorm, the only thoughts in your head were, What was the point of all of this? And Why was he doing all of this? He had already taken so much from you; why wasn't it enough? You thought you had been going crazy. First, it was the kiss at the party; now, this. I mean, did he still want power over you that bad?

~~~~

The sound of Rafe's engine created a soft hum behind the blaring sound of his music as he used one hand to steer through the night and the other to turn the volume up slightly before resting it comfortably on your thigh. Raindrops smacked hard against The windshield to be quickly whipped away the second they did.

You hadn't felt like yourself in a while. I mean, of course, you felt like yourself, but you felt like a shell, a casing of what you used to be. Your friends had noticed it too, and the abuse you had been enduring daily was getting harder to hide, not just the bruises but your overall mood; whenever you were happy, it didn't seem as big.

Whenever you were sad, it seemed like the end of the world. You constantly felt anxious, wondering if you would say the wrong thing to Rafe; honestly, it made you want to stay completely silent around him.

You were pulled out of your thoughts by your phone buzzing. It wasn't that important; it was just one of your classmates texting you about a project the two of you were working on together. What you hadn't noticed was Rafe peaking at your phone, too.

"Who's that?" Rafe questioned almost instantly, moving his eyes back and forth between you and the road.

"It's just Cam from my research class," you replied nonchalantly, scrunching your eyebrows as you tried to focus on reading the text.

"Didn't I tell you to block him?" Your boyfriend reminded you more than he asked, and his tone hit a dangerous edge.

"Yeah, but—"you try to backtrack and defend yourself before being cut off by the sound of your boyfriend hitting the steering wheel hard, making you flinch, almost as if he was trying to warn you to shut up.

"There is no, but if I tell you to do something... " he took a long breath, shaking his head. You should respect me enough to do it." When you didn't respond, Rafe took that as a sign to do something to make you respond.

This happened very often. When it came to Rafe, you would tend to shut down, too scared to say the wrong thing.

As you stared out the window, not wanting to argue anymore, arms crossed over your chest, you noticed that the nearby scenery started to drift by faster than it should. Rafe's engine grew louder as his truck moved quicker, and when you looked at him, it all clicked. His knuckles were nearly white from gripping the steering wheel so tight, his eyes shifting back and forth from the road, and you in his face hard as a rock.

"R-Rafe?" You stuttered as the speed of his truck continued to grow, the speedometer moving further and further to the right. But he didn't say anything, and now he wasn't even looking at you, his eyes glued to the road as he continued to push the gas.

"Slow down." Your voice shakes as you try to speak calmly through your growing anxiety, your head whipping back and forth between the road and him. When he still didn't respond, you started to lose it.

"RAFE, SLOW THE FUCK DOWN!" You were now screaming through tears; this wasn't fucking funny at all. He was playing with your life, and if this wasn't a joke and he was seriously going to crash the car and kill you both over a text message, it made you feel even more stupid. Rafe had done more than enough for you to leave him, yet you were stupid because you still loved him and couldn't imagine yourself without him.

Instead of slowing down as you asked, Rafe hit the brakes forcefully, causing you to fly forward in your seat and slam your head hard against the dashboard.

"Fuck.." you mumbled under your breath, holding your now-pounding forehead.

Relief washed over you as you looked out the window to see your boyfriend had stopped the truck entirely, but that relief was short-lived when you turned to look at him and were met with cold, calculated blue eyes.

"Get out of my car." Rafe leaned closer, his voice low and dripping with a sinister calm. "I'm not playing around. Get out." The way he said it, flat and final, sent a chill down your spine.

You hesitated, trying to search his expression for any hint of remorse or softness, anything that could explain why he was acting this way. But his face was stone, unfeeling and unmoved by the terror and confusion that must have been clear in your eyes.

"Get out of my car," he repeated, his tone colder, firmer. But you just sat there, clutching your bag and staring at the windshield, hoping that if you didn't move, he'd realize how irrational he was being and calm down.

"Rafe, please… it's pouring out, and it's late. Just take me back to campus, and we can talk about this later," you pleaded, your voice shaking but determined not to show how scared you really felt.

But instead of softening, Rafe's expression hardened, and he leaned over, his hand reaching across to unlatch your seatbelt with a rough pull. "I told you to get out, and I'm not repeating myself again."

You flinched, holding onto the edge of the seat as if it would anchor you there. "No, You're not leaving me out here in the middle of nowhere. I'm not getting out," you replied, your voice firm despite the tremor behind it.

Without another word, Rafe climbed out of the driver's side and rounded the car to your door. The sound of the rain pounding on the roof intensified as he pulled your door open. In one swift motion, he reached in, grabbing your arm tightly, making you wince in pain. You tried to pull back, but his grip was too firm.

"Rafe, stop! Please!" you cried, your voice desperate as you clutched at the car door, digging your fingers into the edges, trying to hold on.

Ignoring your pleas, Rafe yanked harder, digging his nails into your skin as he pulled you from the seat until your feet hit the wet pavement. You stumbled, nearly slipping as he let go, and you could only stand there, drenched and shivering, watching him with wide eyes.

"Maybe you should ask Cam to come pick you up." he sneered before slamming the door shut and stepping hard on the gas. The tires spun momentarily, spraying water in your direction as he sped off into the night, leaving you alone on the empty road.

The silence that followed was thick and pressing; the only sound was the faint drumming of raindrops against the pavement. You felt as if you were standing outside of yourself, staring at this girl who looked so broken and small.

With a shaky breath, you fished your phone out of your pocket, fingers trembling as you scrolled to Cam's number. You hesitated for a second, feeling a strange, bitter sense of defeat. Rafe had already stripped so much of your self-worth; even calling Cam felt like another small submission to Rafe's control. But you couldn't stay here.

The phone rang twice before Cam's voice filled the line, warm and slightly sleepy. "Hey y/n?"

You opened your mouth to speak, but nothing came out at first. The sob you'd been holding back escaped, the weight of the night pressing down on you all at once.

"Hey, are you alright?" Cam's tone shifted instantly, concern flooding his voice.

You took a deep breath, fighting to keep your voice steady. "Can you… can you come get me?"

~~~~~

As you woke up, your heart continued pounding from your dream. It felt so real, and it was for you at one point, and it felt like torture to keep having to relive it again.

~~~~~

You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself as you looked out over the crowd. The night air was crisp, the stadium lights casting everything in a golden glow. You hadn't been to a football game in ages, and even though the noise and energy of the crowd were overwhelming, you were glad you'd let your friends drag you out here.

Your friend Bella leaned over, nudging you with a grin. "Isn't this so much better than moping in your dorm all night?"

You forced a smile, trying to match her enthusiasm. "Yeah, I'm glad I came." You meant it, or at least part of you did. They'd insisted you join them tonight, hoping to pull you out of the isolation you'd slipped into over the past few months. For a second, you almost didn't come, thinking of all the excuses you could make. But here you were, dressed in your school colors, surrounded by people who cared, trying to be normal again.

Yet, as you watched the players run across the field, your thoughts drifted to how much had changed. How you used to feel comfortable in crowds like these, carefree and loud. Now, it felt like a thin layer of normalcy you were trying to wear, hoping it would eventually fit.

As the game broke for halftime, you stood up. "I'm gonna grab some snacks. Anyone want anything?"

They all jumped at the offer. Mia gave you a list with a smirk. "Just think of it as your penalty for making us drag you out here."

Rolling your eyes, you headed for the concession stand, weaving through the crowd until you finally reached the line. It felt oddly peaceful to be alone, a chance to catch your breath from the excitement of the game and the effort of trying to act carefree.

But then, just as you stepped forward in line, a familiar voice behind you made your heart stop.

"Hey," Rafe murmured, his voice low and uncharacteristically soft.

You froze, debating whether to even turn around. You hadn't spoken to him since he ruined your breakfast last week, and you'd been determined to keep it that way. But something in his tone caught you off guard, and reluctantly, you glanced back at him.

"Can we talk?" he asked, hands shoved in his pockets. He looked almost contrite, but his eyes still held that edge, the exact look you'd seen too many times.

You crossed your arms, already feeling your walls go up. "What is there to talk about?"

He sighed, glancing away for a second before looking back at you. "I just think… we should put everything behind us. I mean, we're bound to see each other, and now that Topper and Mia are getting closer, it would be better if we could just… let it go."

Your jaw tightened. "Let it go? You mean forget everything you put me through?"

He shrugged as if that should be easy. "Look, that's just how I am, you know? You could never handle me—"

"You're right," you interrupted, your voice stronger than expected. "I couldn't handle the lying. I couldn't handle being with someone who hurt me just because that's who they are. I couldn't handle seeing you fuck another girl."

He barely flinched, his expression annoyingly indifferent. "You think you saw something. We were going through a rough patch anyway, and you know it."

Your hands shook as you clenched your fists, trying to keep your voice steady. "No, I saw it. You lied over and over and then acted like I was the crazy one for not believing you."

Rafe rolled his eyes as if he'd heard it all before. "Look, we don't have to keep going back and forth about this. I'm here trying to make things easier. If you want to keep holding on to some old grudge, that's on you."

You took a breath, forcing yourself to keep your composure. "Rafe, it's not a grudge—it's knowing who you are. I know you're never going to admit it, but I'm done pretending like you didn't ruin us."

He shrugged, dismissing your words with a half-smirk. "Fine, whatever you say."

Before you could respond, he turned and walked away, leaving you standing there, feeling both angry and strangely free. You'd finally confronted him, and he'd shown you exactly who he was—again.

When you returned to your friends, arms full of snacks, Mia looked at you curiously. " Is everything okay?"

You forced a smile. "Yeah. Better than it's been in a while."

When the game reached its conclusion, as you walked towards the stadium's exit, a familiar voice caught your ear.

"hey, y/n!" The tall brunette man called out to you.

It was Cam. The two of you had become friends since he picked you up after Rafe left you on the street. Well, a little bit more than friends. You wouldn't say the two of you were dating because you'd never put a label on it. Still, you had been ‘talking’ to him since the beginning of the year and sleeping in his room occasionally.

You stopped in your tracks, asking your friends to wait for you before approaching him. He was leaning against a wall by himself, smirking at you as you walked over. It felt good to feel wanted, but part of you knew anything with Cam would never work because you couldn't even picture yourself being in another relationship after Rafe.

"I fancy seeing you here," Cam joked in a mock British accent, making you both cringe and slightly giggle.

You rolled your eyes, but a grin tugged at your lips. “Nice accent, really nailed it.”

Cam chuckled, running a hand through his hair. “What can I say? I aim to impress.” He leaned closer, his gaze settling on you with that familiar warmth. “So, you’re actually out tonight. Didn’t expect to see you at a game.”

“Yeah, it’s… been a while,” you admitted, shifting slightly as his hand found your arm, his fingers lingering just a bit longer than necessary. A warmth spread from where he touched, and you couldn’t help but feel a flicker of something deeper than friendship.

His fingers trailed down to your wrist, tracing lazy circles with his thumb. “You should come out more,” he murmured. “I miss seeing you around.” There was a glimmer of sincerity in his eyes that made you feel seen like he actually cared about you—not just as a friend, but something more.

You were about to respond when you felt an odd weight on you, as though someone was watching. You glanced over Cam’s shoulder, and your stomach twisted as you locked eyes with Rafe. He was leaning against the far wall, his expression dark and unreadable, his gaze trained on the two of you with a sharp intensity that sent a chill down your spine. But he didn’t make a move to approach. Instead, he just watched, his jaw tight and his eyes simmering between anger and resentment.

Cam must have noticed the shift in your expression because he gently cupped your face, drawing your focus back to him. “Hey, you okay?”

You blinked, forcing Rafe out of your mind as you looked back at Cam. The concern in his eyes melted away the anxiety for a second. “Yeah, sorry,” you murmured, leaning into his touch just a bit. “I’m good.”

He smiled, brushing a stray hair behind your ear. “Good. ‘Cause I’ve been wanting to ask if maybe you wanted to go out sometime, just us. You know… something different?”

The sincerity in his voice and the gentle touch of his hand on your cheek made you feel almost safe as if you could finally move forward. You smiled, nodding. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

In your peripheral vision, you could still see Rafe standing there, unmoving, his gaze locked onto you. But this time, you didn’t look back. You stayed in the moment with Cam, focusing on his warm smile and its comfort, realizing maybe it was finally time to let yourself be happy.

~~~~~

You sat cross-legged on your bed, flipping idly through a textbook, when Mia burst into the room with a huge grin, practically bouncing on her heels.

“Guess what!” she announced, eyes shining with excitement.

You looked up, arching an eyebrow. “What’s up?”

“Topper invited me to the beach tonight,” she said, drawing out the last word with a delighted sigh. “And… he told me I could bring you, too.”

At that, you felt yourself go stiff. “Topper invited me? Why would he want me there?”

Mia rolled her eyes, crossing the room to sit beside you. “He’s just being nice! He knows we’re close, and he wants me to feel comfortable. And maybe he figured you’d be the best buffer in case things got, you know, awkward.”

You stared at Mia, skepticism etched across your face. “Mia, you know Topper and Rafe are best friends, right? You really think he just invited me along for the fun of it?”

Mia waved a dismissive hand, her expression somewhere between pleading and confident. “Look, I know what you’re thinking, but Topper promised me it wouldn’t be a big deal. Besides, this is about me and him. You’re just my plus-one, so I don’t feel like I’m getting in too deep alone.”

You folded your arms, still unconvinced. “And you don’t think Rafe’s going to be there? I haven’t exactly been dying to see him.”

Mia huffed, crossing her arms to match your posture. “Okay, I get that, but you don’t have to talk to him. Just be there with me and have a good time. We can stick together, and if he even looks at you wrong, I’ll drag you out of there myself.”

You could see how badly she wanted you to say yes, and you were tired of feeling like the shadow of your past with Rafe was lurking over everything. Maybe if you went, it would feel less like he was still dictating your life from a distance. Still, the thought of facing him—even at a crowded beach with Mia by your side—made your stomach twist.

“Fine,” you finally sighed, feeling your defenses weakening. “I’ll go. But if he starts anything, we’re leaving. Promise?”

Mia grinned and crossed her fingers. “Promise. And trust me, this is going to be good for you. Just give it a shot.”

……

༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶

Enjoyed my fic? Leave feedback! Comment/reblog!

Wanna see more? Check out my fic ‘i don’t smoke’

[aphel1on]

when you reread a fic u wrote and youre like wait that bit of mental illness i gave them was directly from my own brain-experience but u didn't even notice at the time bc u were too busy Channeling the Muses 💀

[werewolf-girlfriend]

ive been enabled so let me share some of my thoughts on how to get ur art noticed online

if u want Engagement on ur posts then i believe that its critical to make people care about ur art. the easiest way to do this is to appeal to something they already care about, like fandom, aesthetics/subculture, current events, having fun (people love humor!). a harder but perhaps more fulfilling route is to talk about ur own ocs and projects enough until people start caring about them too

theres an infinite amount of topics people care about out there so id suggest picking something u already care about urself and channel ur art energy there. trying to make art for the most popular things out there regardless own interests is an exercise in misery, id advise against it..! if im allowed to get superstitious for a moment, i do believe that even untrained eyes can tell whether a piece of art was fun to work on or a chore. and besides! if ur having fun then its easier to create more, and the more u create the more chances ull have at getting lucky and having a post seen :)

on a very related note, art is a way to communicate ideas so the quality of the idea being presented in a piece of art is paramount to how popular a post will be. what i mean by this is that technical skill isnt the primary determinant of a posts popularity. if all your posts are portraits of original characters then people will have a hard time connecting with your posts and theyll keep scrolling, even if those portraits are masterpieces! the major exception to this is probably other artists, who ive found usually have a greater appreciation for the technical side of art (we can only speculate as to why..!)

lemme finish by saying that making popular posts and being good at art are two entirely different skillsets, ive seen many incredibly skilled artists with jack shit for notes because they dont give people a reason to care about their stuff NOT TO MENTION its a huge game of luck whether a post will get seen. so dont go insane in pursuit of recognition!

(i dont want to make this post too long so ive included examples from my own art and their note counts with my analysis after the break)

hello and welcome to the extracurricular segment to this post :) i bring yall two pieces from my art blog @werewolf-artfriend:

here we have a portrait of my fursona that im still proud of and a sketch suggesting "what if sniffers (from minecraft) were the size of mountains?" (let it be noted that the sniffer sketch was posted right during the minecraft mob vote = peak interest in the subject of sniffers).

the portrait at the time of writing has a crisp 30 notes, whilst the sniffer sketch has over 2000 notes. from the same artist, on the same blog, posted only a few months apart. i believe this is a good example both of the power of a piece of art having an interesting idea at its core AND of a piece appealing to the interests of the masses

this is of course just two convenient example posts, but i have experienced fan art of popular topics getting thousands of notes a couple of times now, amidst my other furry shit that these days get around 200-300 notes in comparison

this may sound like a really long winded way of saying "fan art make the world go round" but i just want to point out the nuances that

1) it matters what u make fan art of: if a fandom is small or dormant (waiting on new canon content for example) then clearly less people will be excited about the fan art you make. dont expect 10k notes on ur post if the average recent post in the fandom gets around 200 etc etc

2) it doesnt have to be fan art! ive also had some of my bird art get thousands of notes because people simply like birds :) and this applies to ANY topic people care about! the world rly is your oyster on this one

anyway i think ive started rambling dhgdjhgd thanks if u read this far! i hope i got my point across! and if ur feeling down about ur art not being seen then just keep at it okay! keep creating and keep having fun! keep sharing ur ideas and perspectives with the world and ur audience will eventually find u! i love you!

[st4r-sh0t]

Posting my opinion bc i'm never wrong and don't argue: mouthwashing!!!

I fucking love this game and it has been all over my fyp recently and i wanna talk about it bc 𝔂𝓮𝓼. for those that don't know mouthwashing is a game that u should go check out cuz its rly good. This post is gonna be kinda long bc i have a lot to say but yeah!!😋😋🤞

Stating off with 𝓳𝓸𝓶𝓫𝓪𝓵𝓪𝔂𝓪 i think a lot of people fail to realize that he is the most unreliable narrator ever. He isn't only unreliable when it comes to Anya, he is unreliable when it comes to everyone. He views the entire crew under a convoluted lens. This is because he is projecting! So mf hard!!! Notice how it is only after the crash that these "bad attributes" of every character is brought out.

In reality, 𝓳𝓪𝓶𝓮'𝓼 worse attributes have been shown because of the crash and as he spirals further and further he projects these attributes of himself onto the crew more and more. In this post i personally want to talk about curly because i don't rly see it a whole lot.

When it comes to curly specifically, the crash has turned curly paraplegic and highly dependent on other people. I've seen a lot of people say that this changed the way 𝓳𝓲𝓷𝓰𝓸 views curly but what everyone is missing is that he always thought this way about curly. he always saw curly has someone below him. the only difference is before curly was under him morally, now he is under him physically because he is disabled. He sees what has happened to curly as karma for his way of thinking.

This is common amongst narcissists because the idea of naturally occurring karma absolves them of any fault which lets 𝓳𝓸𝓻𝓭𝓪𝓷 believe that what happened on the tulpar was not his fault. Despite directly causing the crash, jumbo sees it as a necessary evil that had to be done to avoid the consequences of his actions (AKA, taking responsibility for anya). Because he views what happened to curly as justice/karma, having to take care of him becomes a chore and curlys very personhood is taken away from him. He is now a thing. A responsibility that he has to take because of what he has done and he is not happy about it.

Another thing I've seen is people saying that they don't feel bad about what happened to curly and that he deserved it for not defending Anya and while yes i do absolutely hate curly, nobody deserves the abuse that their abuser inflicts on them. "What happened to curly was horrifying" and "curly (in)directly caused everything on the tulpar" are ideas that should coexist. Also thats not the thing you should get from this game. It's not a story of karma, it's a cautionary tale about what happens when we let abuse(of anything; power, people, privilege) go unchecked.

TLDR; 𝓳𝓾𝓶𝓹 𝓽𝓮𝓼𝓽 is an unreliable narrator and people fail to apply that to every character in the game, not just Anya. when it comes to curly, he views him as conceded and sees what happened to him as karma.

Now although I do not argue and my opinion is always correct, I would love to hear your thoughts! Especially because this game is so subjective I would love to hear your opinions and even hot takes on this topic! Stay safe divas😘💅💅

[allthingslinguistic]

But by the end of my five years [as a copy editor], I felt intellectually and psychologically worn down by the labor I logged on my biweekly timesheets. Whatever roller-rink of neurons helped me spot aberrations from convention had grown practiced and strong, and it was difficult to read any unconventional sentence without reflexively rearranging it into a more conventional form.

Something had shrunken and withered in me, for having directed so much of my attention away from the substance of the stories I read and into their surface. Few people in our office, let alone outside its walls, would notice the variation in line spacing, the fact that Jesus’ was lacking its last, hard “s,” or whatever other reason we were sending the proofs to be printed again—and if they did, who the fuck cared? [....]

I can’t help wondering, though, whether there wasn’t something insidious in the way we worked—some poison in our many rounds of minute changes, in our strained and often tense conversations about ligatures and line breaks, in our exertions of supposedly benign, even benevolent, power; if those polite conversations constituted a covert, foot-dragging protest against change, an insistence on the quiet conservatism of the liberal old guard, and if they were a distraction from the conversations that might have brought meaningful literary or linguistic change about. In fact, I sense myself enacting the same foot-dragging here.

It’s fun—it’s dangerously pleasing—to linger in the minutiae of my bygone copyediting days, even if, by the time I left that job to teach college writing full-time, I was convinced that “correcting” “errors” of convention most readers would never notice was the least meaningful work a person could possibly do. I’m writing this, however, to ask whether copyediting as it’s been practiced is worse than meaningless: if, in fact, it does harm.

*

Do we really need copyediting? I don’t mean the basic clean-up that reverses typos, reinstates skipped words, and otherwise ensures that spelling and punctuation marks are as an author intends. Such copyediting makes an unintentionally “messy” manuscript easier to read, sure.

But the argument that texts ought to read “easily” slips too readily into justification for insisting a text working outside dominant Englishes better reflect the English of a dominant-culture reader—the kind of reader who might mirror the majority of those at the helm of the publishing industry, but not the kind of reader who reflects a potential readership (or writership) at large.

A few years before leaving copyediting, I began teaching a scholarly article I still read with students today, Lee A. Tonouchi’s “Da State of Pidgin Address.” Written in Hawai’ian Creole English, or Pidgin, it asks whether what “dey say” is true: “dat da perception is dat da standard english talker is going automatically be perceive fo’ be mo’ intelligent than da Pidgin talker regardless wot dey talking, jus from HOW dey talking.” The article leaves many students questioning the assumptions they began reading it with: its effect is immediate, personal, and profound.

In another article I pair it with, “Should Writers Use They Own English,” Vershawn Ashanti Young answers Tonouchi’s implicit question, writing, “don’t nobody’s language, dialect, or style make them ‘vulnerable to prejudice.’ It’s ATTITUDES.” Racial difference and linguistic difference, Young reminds us, are intertwined, and “Black English dont make it own-self oppressed.”

It’s clear that copyediting as it’s typically practiced is a white supremacist project, that is, not only for the particular linguistic forms it favors and upholds, which belong to the cultures of whiteness and power, but for how it excludes or erases the voices and styles of those who don’t or won’t perform this culture. Beginning with an elementary school teacher’s red pen, and continuing with agents, publishers, and university faculty who on principle turn away work that arrives on their desk in unconventionally grammatical or imperfectly punctuated form, voices that don’t mimic dominance are muffled when they get to the page and also before they get there—as schools, publishers, and their henchmen entrench the idea that those writing outside convention are not writing “well,” and therefore ought not set their voices to paper at all. [...]

Like other emissaries of the powerful (see, e.g., the actual police), copy editors often wield what power they do have unpredictably, teetering between generous attention and brute, insistent force. You saw this in the way our tiny department got worked up over the stubbornness of an editor or author who had dug in their heels: their resistance was a threat, sometimes to our suspiciously moral-feeling attachment to “correctness,” sometimes to our aesthetics, and sometimes to our sense of ourselves. [...]

There’s a flip side, if it’s not already obvious, to the peculiar “respect” I received in that dusty closet office at twenty-two. A 2020 article in the Columbia Journalism Review refers casually to “fusspot grammarians and addled copy editors”; I’m not the only one who imagines the classic copy editor as uncreative, neurotic, and cold.

I want to say they’re the publishing professionals most likely, in the cultural imagination, to be female, but that doesn’t feel quite right: agents and full-on editors are female in busty, sexy ways, while copy editors are brittle, unsexed. Their labor nevertheless shares with other typically female labors a concern with the small and the surface, those aspects of experience many of us are conditioned to dismiss.

I’m willing to bet, too, that self-professed “grammar snobs” rarely come from power themselves—that there is a note of aspirational literariness in claiming the identity as such. [...]

It makes me wonder if, in renouncing my job when I left it—in calling copyediting the world’s least meaningful work—I might have been reenacting some of the literary scene’s most entrenched big-dick values: its insistence on story over surface (what John Gardner called the “fictional dream”), on anti-intellectualism but also the elitist cloak of it-can-never-be-taught. The grammar snob’s aspiration and my professor’s condescension bring to mind the same truism: that real power never needs to follow its own rules. [...]

Copyediting shares with poetry a romantic attention to detail, to the punctuation mark and the ordering of words. To treat someone else’s language with that fine a degree of attention can be an act of love. Could there be another way to practice copyediting—less attached to precedent, less perseverating, and more eagerly transgressive; a practice that, to distinguish itself from the quietly violent tradition from which it arises, might not be called “copyediting” at all; a practice that would not only “permit” but amplify the potential for linguistic invention and preservation in any written work?

--- Against Copyediting: Is It Time to Abolish the Department of Corrections? Helen Betya Rubinstein on Having Power Over More Than Just Commas

[prettywordsyouleft]

Power Up

Pairing: Do Kyungsoo x female reader

Genre: fluff/domestic au

Warnings: nothing, aside from being sickeningly adorable and making me wish for this

Word count: 964

Leaning against the living room threshold, Kyungsoo couldn’t help but grin to himself. It took all his effort to hold back the laughter bubbling under the surface, and he distracted himself by rubbing fondly at his chest.

His heart was squeezing with gratitude at the sight before him.

Kyungsoo didn’t even know where you had found the clothes you and your daughter were wearing. His idol days were behind him, and he had thought he had packed all the items he’d kept away long ago. Or, you had when you’d moved here to the farmhouse. Either way, he hadn’t seen these shirts with the number 12 and his name emblazoned over them in some time. The top on his five-year-old swamped her, barely letting her bare feet peek out from the hem, even with one side knotted up to take up some of the excess fabric. That wasn’t holding her back from shaking her booty from side to side as she screeched-sung into her hairbrush beside you.

It wasn’t his first time seeing you in his clothes. Heck, the first time you’d had sex was because he couldn’t hold back from undressing you in the hoodie he had given you fifteen minutes earlier to keep warm in. It was somewhat of a habit of yours now to pick up his clothes and put them on, yet the gut reaction was still the same, stirring the blood along his veins. If this moment wasn’t so damn adorable, he’d have interrupted it to take you off to any private place he could find and see if you had anything else underneath there.

Usually, there wasn’t a single other item under there, and he’d do best to forget about that tidbit right now before he got carried away.

“Mummy! Mummy!” his daughter screamed, still into the hairbrush as if it could project her voice further.

You flinched a little at her volume, though your smile remained in place. “What, sweetheart?”

“I want Power! I need more POWER!”

“You seem to have more than enough, don’t you think? Besides, Daddy sounds amazing in What U Do, and Mummy wants to keep listening to it.”

“But I want to hear Uncle Bacon turn the music up nah-nah-nah-nah!”

“Baekhyun,” you corrected mindlessly with a sigh. Turning your head to reach for the phone controlling the Bluetooth speakers, you noticed Kyungsoo standing there and brightened again. “Maybe you can get some power from Daddy?”

“Ugh! But he’s not here, Mama!”

“Isn’t he?” Kyungsoo finally spoke, and his little girl screeched, reminding him of the powerful set of lungs she inherited from him that she had used to belt her way into this world, and ever since. All but tripping over the shirt, she ran towards him and threw herself at his awaiting embrace, just as you swapped the song to her requested one.

It had been a long time since he got lost in Exo songs, but he energetically bounced through the dance with you singing at his side, the endless excited screams coming from his arms almost deafening him. Several more songs played whilst he danced with you both, and soon he had a five-year-old dancing on the couch whilst he held you close. It made him laugh when he noted how breathless he had gotten; exercise had never been a favourite thing of his, and he sure as hell hadn’t kept up with any idol fitness regime in years. Still keeping himself trim enough for the odd acting role he took on to break up the monotony of his semi-retirement, he couldn’t believe how fifteen minutes led to him sweating this much. Your skin was flushed just as much, your eyes showing the struggle of parenthood and having the energy to keep up with your daughter as you did daily. Yet you didn’t slow down, and nor did he, holding onto this moment as much as you both physically and mentally could.

Pockets of happiness like this weren’t hard to find, but he cherished every one he got, and soon he was kissing you without a care in the world, even with his daughter screeching like it was the funniest thing to see Mummy and Daddy kissing. She sure had been conditioned to open affection over the years – he had a lot to give.

Kissing you once more before really needing a breath, Kyungsoo laughed heartily before dropping onto the couch, pulling you down with him. He groaned when the final piece of his family jumped on you both, his arm blindly reaching out for her squirming body before covering her in kisses.

“Still looking elsewhere for power, my little squirt?”

Round eyes, the same shape as his with the colour of yours caught his before she shook her head dramatically from side to side. “You turned it up to max, Daddy!”

“Good. I think I gave all of my power to you, anyway.”

“All of it?” you murmured in his ear, running a hand down his torso enticingly. “That’s a shame. My mum will be here soon to pick her up for a sleepover tonight.”

He shifted his gaze from his daughter to yours, his lips curling up into another smile. “Oh, I think I can manage to refuel pretty soon.”

You laughed loudly, patting him on the belly before picking yourself up. “Come on baby girl, let’s get you ready for Grandma’s tonight. We’ve powered you up for her to deal with, huh?”

“Nan-nan has more power than both of you!” she remarked, ever the spoilt granddaughter that she was, and Kyungsoo’s smile grew lazy.

He’d just take a short moment to recoup his strength. There was no way he wouldn’t have the power to spend the night showing you just how happy this life made him.

_________________

All rights reserved © prettywordsyouleft

[EXO Masterlist] | [Main Masterlist]

[spacedoutman]

Here’s you guys sorry if the colors came out rlly weird!! My graphic pad shows colors too saturated and my actual computer screen is broken. Repairing shit on a crashed space ship is hard

I love you guys sonas and it’s so damn cool seeing all of them and being able to draw them is such a fucking honor- thanks so much! These are for the elder project which might be animated but don’t get ur hopes up

I stylized them differently and severely but they’ll all look similar once I actually get the project moving

Ilysm ty <3 I got 2 more to draw too so keep your eyes open! Also lemme know if u wanna be in the elder project and have a drawing done of u thx!!

@thestrangelystrange omg why tf do I hear boss music like omfg Dolly’s design is so fucking powerful my skin almost blew straight off my bones while I was drawing this I love it sm

PAPWJRBDKLANWBEHCHSBWJWKR i love the hair too oh my god maybe one day I can have hair like this…

@angelbambisworld I literally can’t say how much I am in love with your Kissona’s design OMGG- literally gives me early 2000s vibes like so damn aesthetic- pls draw more I gotta see more of ur sona this is my whole childhood

I am so fucking in love also I added a little Gene to keep your sona company-

@that-metalhead-ace here ya go! I really admire that you actually drew acne n stuff, like that’s so cool! Im rlly sorry if I couldn’t get the details correct my brain doesn’t work half the time but the design is so fucking cool

Originally I was gonna go with bolder colors all over but I decided against it

Also you probablyyy noticed I didn’t draw the pentagram. I was raised Christian and even tho I’m atheist now I have ocd so yeah… I’ll hopefully be able to draw 1 later lol

[anzynai]

New Discoveries

Akito x Toya (Project Sekai)

a/n: HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO MY BEST FRIEND IN THE ENTIRE WORLD @thatonetickleblog im so glad to be spending your birthday with u another year and ofc i had to do the traditional birthday fic.. chose akitoya cuz that was at the top of ur list when i asked so i hope u enjoy it! worked very hard on it.. i sweat, i cried, i bled, but i mean. u dont have to like it if u dont want to. i mean. irs not a big deal…. ANYWAYS, enough talking. happy birthday and hope u enjoy this sickeningly romantic akitoya tickle fic LOVE YOUUU 🫶

summary: today was the day that akito was going to confess to akito. things turn out much better than he expected.

word count: 1.3k

——

Today was the day.

Today was the day that Akito was going to confess to Toya. After lots and lots of nudging and encouragement from Kohane, An, and even Ena, he decided to gather his courage and tell Toya about his feelings for him. He honestly had no idea if Toya returned his feelings, but he would just rather be honest than hide it from him. Even if Toya didn’t like him back, he was sure the other wouldn’t stop being friends with him over it.. at least, he hoped.

At the moment, he was at the park, idly sitting on some swings waiting for his other groupmate to arrive. It was getting late, so there was no one there, which he was grateful for. He always felt a bit awkward singing in front of a crowd if it wasn’t at a show. The nervousness he felt in his stomach did not compare to how he felt when he finally saw Toya walking towards him, his heart settling deep into his stomach. He took a deep breath, then attempted to smile weakly.

“Toya.” He said, watching as the other let an easy smile slip into his face that completely melted Akito’s heart (as much as he would hate to admit it).

Forcing himself to act somewhat normal, he swallowed and watched the other join the swing beside him. “Ready?”

“Of course.” And the two spent the next hour running their duet together. Akito never really felt that he could admire Toya’s singing voice enough. Where his was powerful and loud, Toya’s was gentle and soft in a way that made you feel like you could fall asleep to it. It was truly his favorite sound. His normal voice was not much different, calm and controlled. Akito liked to listen to his voice.

“Sounds pretty good, huh?” Akito said after they finally ran through their duet without any mistakes and Toya nodded, agreeing. The pair fell into silence. By now, the sun had nearly set, causing a red glow in the sky and Akito allowed himself to think that Toya looked beautiful like this, and that’s when he realized it. It was time.

Taking a deep breath, because confessing is hard, he starts before he can talk himself out of it.

“Toya.” He says, but the other has decided to speak up too.

“Akito.”

“Ah— sorry. You.. first.” Akito mumbled, feeling embarrassed all of a sudden. Toya looked down and paused, before making eye contact with Akito. A faint blush was planted on his features.

“Akito, I like you.”

What?

What?!

For a moment, Akito couldn’t respond. He couldn’t think at all, in complete disbelief, because not only did Toya like him of all people, he beat him to the punch. He cleared his throat as it started to feel dry and he brought a hand to his face.

“Y-you… wait, you like me?” Akito asked.

The blush on Toya’s face was more noticeable now and Akito would have teased him about it if he wasn’t sure that his face was just as flushed.

“I do.” Toya nodded. “Do you like me back?”

Yes. Is that even a question? Akito thought.

Then, he remembered Toya can’t read his mind and looked up at the other, awaiting his response. Akito averted his eyes.

“Of course I do.. wasn’t it obvious?” Akito muttered, quietly, but Toya heard it and when Akito looked back at him, the smile on Toya’s lips was one he would have spent all of his savings to see just for a second longer.

“Not at all.” Toya said. It shocked Akito, but Toya had always been.. sort of oblivious about these kinds of things. Afterall, everyone else seemed to know.

“Are we.. dating then?” Akito mumbled, fidgeting with his fingers. He wasn’t sure if it was a stupid question, but he had to know and he needed a clear answer.

“Do you want to?” Toya responded, looking a bit nervous. As if he had anything to worry about, Akito thought to himself.

“Obviously.. you idiot.” Akito groaned, trying to ignore the fact his heart was racing a mile a minute and he was resisting the urge to die of happiness.

“So then.. what now?” Toya asked, when they both fell silent. Feeling bold, Akito allowed a smirk to slip onto his face. He took Toya’s face, pulling it closer to his.

“This.” He replied, when their lips finally met. He felt Toya smile against his mouth as the other deepened the kiss.

They each allowed their hands to roam, touching the other with fervor and desire they had always been afraid to act on. It was perfect. Akito had never felt happier and part of him wished that moments like this would never have to end.

And well, maybe it didn’t.

Because Toya liked him back. He liked him back.

He continued kissing Toya, biting his lip and relishing in the gasp Toya let out. That is, until Akito let out a gasp of his own.. for a completely different reason.

Toya’s hands had ended up caressing his backs and sides, two spots that made Akito feel ticklish. Toya didn’t seem to notice, but as he kept doing it, it was harder for Akito to keep his reactions at bay.

When he gasps again, Toya pulls away, concern written in his expression. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, don’t worry.” Akito responded, unable to come up with a believable excuse. Toya looked at him with doubt.

“Are you sure? You were moving around a lot..” Toya examined his body before he seemed to come up with some conclusion. “Are you hurt?” He gently grazed his sides, as if trying to feel for an injury. Akito, not expecting his touch, giggled.

And then, it seems to click what was going on.

“Oh.” Toya realized, eyes widening and Akito blushes. Then, Toya sent him an amused smile and begins to tickle him… and Akito let him.

“T-tohohohoya!” Akito laughed, his voice raising an embarrassing octave.

“How have I never known you were ticklish?” Toya wondered, seemingly amazed by his discovery.

“I-I dohohon’t knohohow! Stahahap!” Akito gasped, squirming in the swing. It makes tickling Akito harder for Toya, but he doesn’t look like he minds.

“Do you really want me to?” Toya asked with a raised brow. The dying protests are all he needs as an answer.

“Hahahahaha!” Akito laughed, his hands trying to get Toya away from him.

“You’re beautiful.” He heard the other mutter, flustering him. The tickling was bad enough, but this was too much!

“Dohohon’t sahahahay thahat!” Akito chuckled, hiding his face with his hands. That idea backfired, because it gave Toya a lot more options to tickle him at.

“Say what?” Toya looked genuinely confused, making Akito feel like such a loser. He should not get so flustered by one measly compliment! “That you’re beautiful?”

Akito nodded, a squeal passing through his lips when Toya found a particularly sensitive spot on his ribs.

“But you are. You’re gorgeous. I’ve always known that.” And if Akito thought his face was burning before, he is sure he is one second away from spontaneously combusting right there. He tried groaning, but it sounded strangled.

“Nohohoho!”

“No?”

“Nohoho! Tohohoya!”

“Yes?” The worst thing about the situation was that Toya was absolutely amazing at tickling, his fingers precise and evilly gentle. It didn’t hurt at all and the touches were so light, Akito was shocked that he could feel it.. and feel it this much.

“Nohoho mohohore!” Akito shrieked, at last, when his cheeks began to hurt from smiling. Toya stopped, peppering his face with kisses. It flustered Akito to no end, but he didn’t stop the other, taking a few moments to catch his breath.

“Are you alright?” Toya asked, looking him in the eyes.

Akito smiled, looking back at him. “Yeah. I am.” Then he forced himself to frown. “But..”

“But?” Toya looked worried and he almost felt bad.

“Isn’t it your turn now?” Akito smiled, mischievous and devilishly. Toya unconsciously began moving back.

“W-whahahahaat?!” Toya laughed, now finding himself to be the victim as Akito pounced.

Akito looked at his partner—his boyfriend— laughing beside him and he couldn’t help but laugh as well. Yeah, he could get used to this.

[nightlix07]

༆Maze of memories༆

Character(s): Reo Mikage (Blue lock)

Reader type: Not specified(Gender-Neutral Pronouns)

Warning(s): mentions of suicide, depression, self-harm, ED)

Genre: Angst, Fluff (Hurt/Comfort), Happy ending(?I mean I think it is...)

Word count: ~5,3k words (I think the site lied to me, maybe)

Author's note: Did I not see enough angst with him and I did it myslef? Yes I did. Did I go too hard on how depressed Reo can be?...maybe. Enjoy! <3

It was a warm sunny day. Maybe too sunny as you had to keep a bottle of water close by if you wished to keep running on the field without fainting. Keeping up with Reo's stamina was tough, playing against him on a 1 on 1 was like running for the Olympics. It was like this boy had no limit.

"Come on Y/N! I know you can do better!~" You heard Reo coo teasingly.

Oh, how he annoyed you... You pushed yourself further, running to block his shot and stealing the ball. His eyes widen slightly seeing how focused you became. He smirked and ran after you, trying to block your shot as well but to no avail. You scored with a powerful blow. You heard Reo clapping as he smiled warmly.

Nagi looked up from his phone to just nod at you as to congratulate you. Then he went to continue his game again... You were wondering what game was so captivating. Maybe an open-world RPG? Or something that required more thinking? Your thoughts were cut off when you heard Reo's voice.

"Impressive, yet easily noticeable by the opponent team. If this was a real match...." You sigh and take the water bottle he was offering you. You were thirsty after that amount of effort under the scorching sun. The water felt divine, it was cold, bringing your body temperature back to normal.

Reo was still rambling about all the other ways you could have stolen the ball, scored and whatnot. You didn't mind it. It was kind of cute seeing how he was able to ramble for hours on end about soccer.

"Hmm, but what's more important is that I beat you so don't be a sore loser~" You say, taking revenge for how much he has teased you while playing.

Reo scoffed and crossed his arms over his chest while glaring at you playfully. You both liked to annoy each other and somehow those banters never escalated into a fight. It was some kind of mutual understanding. On filed it was no different, people said eyes talk and they weren't lying as with just a glance you two could understand each other. Nagi understood those 'signals' as well. It was like a strange string connecting you three, fate most likely as you liked to say. Other schools feared Hakuho High School's soccer team because of your trio. And they feared you for a good reason. This is how every day looked for you: Reo challenging you to try the tricks he learned and Nagi sometimes taking part just to absolutely destroy both of you at soccer.

Today was no different: training, running, laughing and joking...until a teacher brought over some weird-looking envelopes.

"Blue Lock?.... It sounds like a prison. " You say unimpressed.

The three of you studied the weird-looking letters. Reo's full of enthusiasm at the new opportunities that just opened up. His eyes twinkled with joy...until he saw you and Nagi looking at the letter in disdain.

"Oh come on, it clearly says they want us to join to get better at soccer...! It's an opportunity we can't pass!" He was trying his best to get you and Nagi to agree.

You didn't like the sound of the so-called 'project' and Nagi...

"It's a hassle... Too much work."

Reo sighed and wrapped his arms around both of your necks smiling brightly, bringing you two close to him.

"Come on, we promised to become the best! You can't back out now!" Reo was always good at tying the team together. After all, he was the one who 'created it'.

You remember how the school's team came to be. You were tasked to ask students around the school if they wished to join the school's soccer team. Most of them weren't interested and you were ready to give up...until you met Reo. He started acting like his life depended on it, following kids until they agreed or just plain ol' threatening them....subtly.

"Join the soccer team! The best team ever! " Reo shouted with vigour. You barely knew him... Why did he care this much?... You sigh and pay it no mind.

"Hey...we don't know for sure if the team will be that good-" You try to reason with the purple-haired boy but your words were cut off by him almost instantly.

"I'll make sure it will be!" He said proudly and you couldn't help but burst out laughing. He scowled at your reaction but after a bit, he couldn't help but burst out laughing as well.

After that ordeal, Reo said he knew the perfect last candidate: Nagi. Making the white-haired boy agree to join the soccer team...was harder than proving your homework wasn't stolen off of another classmate to the teacher.

From that point onward, you three were inseparable. You still remember the night you two had to practically shove information down Nagi's throat so he would pass, or when Reo refused to talk to either of you because he messed up a shot. You chuckle with fondness at the memories. You liked them. If it weren't for this small group, life would be boring, wouldn't it? A life without Reo nagging you, without Nagi explaining the tactics he needs to use to win the game's next level. A family.

And so you decided to join Blue Lock.

"There are so many people..." You look around in curiosity, walking close to Reo and Nagi, not wanting to get lost in the crowd.

"Means the selections will be hard." Reo mutters in slight concern while looking at the stage up front.

The project's logo stood proudly on the big screen. The rest of the scene was awfully empty, the only 'decoration' being two plants. Nagi was also looking around, meaning it was a fascinating situation if it made him look away from his phone. The lights cut out around the room, and the ones on the stage shine brightly, almost blindingly. You squint your eyes to adjust to the light. On the stage, a tall, slim and weak man appears...Ego, your so-called new coach. He looks like he hasn't slept in decades! He goes on and on about this project, talking about how soccer isn't about a team, how you should be egoists and other uncanny things. It looked like it was a cult! It was weird at best. After Ego finishes his speech, the screen opens up, creating an entryway. It was filled with thick fog, the entrance looking like it was straight out of a horror movie.

"So who is ready to be an egoist should enter at once, the other weaklings can leave!" The man yelled as he glared at the crowd.

People started talking between them, whispers of disapproval and fear. Some trying to hype each other up to join. You were looking at the doorway. Who in their right mind would go? It sounded and looked like a cult! ...And of course, Reo was ready to go, taking both your and Nagi's hands, dragging you to the giant doorway. Did he have no survival instincts?! Maybe his basic survival skills somehow dispersed into thin air but yours were in full swing.

"Hey, hey! Let's think this through! It sounds suspicious Reo!..." You try to pull back but to no avail. Reo's grip on your wrist was firm. No way you were going to be freeing yourself from it.

The first few challenges were easy, more like child's play for your trio. Even the first real match was easy. Reo helping you and Nagi connect while the other team couldn't even tell which one of you will strike thanks to the constant passing between you three. Your team won with 5-2. You breathe deeply to catch your breath after all that running.

"We did it! If the next teams are so weak we're set! Good job Y/N!" Reo says enthusiastically.

Again, how did he have so much stamina? He ran around the field, dribbled, passed, scored. And somehow he was still able to run to your side to ruffle your hair. You push away his hand as you shoot him a warning glance. Reo laughs softly. Your team was happy, celebrating. You, Reo and Nagi rambling happily about the match. You hear someone crying and you look at the other side of the field. It looked like a battlefield.

People laying on the floor, crying, yelling. It was weird seeing all those other kids' dreams be crushed. The looks of pure despair, disdain, hatred even. You decide to walk away before one of them tries anything to take revenge. Before the next match, you had time to prepare and rest, so you decided that a quick meal would give you some energy and prepare you for the next hours of training. Of course Nagi and Reo tag along. Where you went, they went too and this was kind of an unwritten rule.

You sleepily lean your head against the cafeteria table after finishing your food. You look up only to see Reo trying to make a deal with Nagi to eat. You chuckle at the sight as Reo glares at you. You also train for a while before heading off to sleep. You lay in your comfy bed, close your eyes and wait...and wait... Why were you so restless...? It was only a match, an easy one on top of that. Still, you couldn't sleep. You move around, try different positions, count sheep, any old trick in the book but still nothing. You decide to sit up and look if anyone is also awake. Nothing. You sigh annoyed and you move to stand up. If you can't sleep you can at least train. Your stamina needed some training anyway so why not- Well that's what you wished to do before your master plan was stopped by Reo pulling your hand down. Again, his grip on your wrist was like being held down by some of the strongest chains known to man. How does he even manage?! You try to argue with him but he tiredly opens his eyes to glare at you.

"But Reo I can't sleep anyways, I can at least train!-"

"Sleep."

"Reo-"

"Y/N." His eyes were stabbing daggers into you.

Without any place to dispute this, you lay back down. After the effort of trying to break free from the inhuman hold Reo had on you, you fall asleep quite quickly. Somehow his grip on your arm never faltered.

It was time for the match. You were against team Z. Both teams take their specific spots on field, waiting for the kick-off. Reo quickly starts the game, Nagi sprinting forward while you and Reo were using the give-and-go technique, confusing the other team.

"Reo, off to Nagi!" You shoot the ball to Reo after you broke defence.

He quickly catches your pass and sends it to Nagi. Your quick understanding of each other's position on field made the other team lose the first three rounds. They were getting desperate and it was easily noticeable. Some glared at you, others threw insults yet once again you could only see that eerie landscape...despair. You hated that look so you turn to search for Reo's cheerful eyes to shake off that odd feeling. And so you find them, purple eyes filled with nothing other than the most beautiful things in this world: fondness, kindness. He smiles warmly at you and the feeling of fear and pain disappear like they were never there in the first place.

"What, missed me?~" Reo says teasingly while tilting his head to taunt you. He was back to his teasing demeanour.

"Not that much really."

"Oh so you missed me-" You cut his words off by gently flicking his forehead at which he groans and pouts. You pat his head as to say sorry and you go back in position.

And so your eyes leave him and focus on the view in front of you. Misery, anguish. You get goosebumps from the chillness and brutal glares the other team had. You prepare yourself to mark one of the other teams' attackers. The first touch moves towards you, you look at the yellow-eyed boy in the eyes as he smiles insanely. He dribbles past you and all of your team. You watch it wide-eyed as you see him move closer and closer and...he scores. His team welcomes him back with open arms while you look at Reo for any kind of comfort or help but you only see fury. He just...stared at the other team.

"Reo?-"

"They got the taste of victory. Now they'll act like dogs teaming up on us..." His words were pure venom. His usual soft eyes were now void of emotion. He wasn't even looking at you, he gazed yonderly at the other side of the field. His eyes seemed to go past your like you weren't even there in the first place.

"Reo!" You say a bit louder trying to get his attention and maybe calm him down.

His eyes seem to snap back, focusing on your figure. He smiled weakly as his eyes retained some of their usual warmth.

"Ah sorry, I was talking out loud wasn't I? Don't mind it, you know I get mad easily Y/N." He tries to lure you away from the truth with small lies yet you knew him better.

You decide to not push him too far and just pat his head as encouragement. The match starts once again. Reo loses the ball and you're forced into defence. They score again. You see Reo's eye twitch as he stares at Team Z, more precisely, the player that marked him the whole match. The other player notices Reo's hostile look so he walks closer with a teasing grin on his face.

"What is it genius, huh? Never lost a match? I'll make sure you taste failure you-"

Before he could finish his sentence, Reo hits the player with his elbow. You run to Reo's side to pull his hand away and stop him from hitting the guy again. This action earned him a yellow card yet Reo didn't seem to mind, his eyes were calculating, almost predatory while watching Team Z help their stumbling teammate walk to a nearby bench. After you shake him slightly Reo's eyes move to study your figure. They were frigid. He pushes you off while glaring at you.

"I know what I'm doing so stop treating me like a child. If they keep scoring they'll think they're strong...like some strays scaring off some weaklings." His voice was loud and harsh, his demandour aggressive.

You just stare at this whole ordeal. You knew he didn't like losing but still... You notice his eyes faltering when he notices your slightly scared look. He eventually gives up arguing and hugs you closely while hiding his face in the crook of your neck, trying to forget about this whole competition, trying to remember how playing soccer as just a game was.

"Sorry..." That's all he mutters before he looks up to see any sort of reaction. He wanted to know if you were mad at him, startled, sad, anything. Reo just wanted to protect you from those destructive emotions as best as he could and being the cause of them wasn't something he wanted.

"Are you done acting like a maniac? We'll win. I'm sure of it." You say reassuringly while tying his now messed up hair back up.

You see Reo's eyes light up once again. Even if the game was 4-4, a gamble at best, you still had hopes. You were strong enough, you could do it. The first kick starts the game, everything seems to be distorted. The other team was moving rapidly along the field, your eyes were never able to find all of Team Z. You run, you try to block, mark, anything yet it was useless. You hear a whistle. The one that you heard whenever you scored, whenever you won.

"Team Z won! Congratulations, next repartisation will be calculated...-" You don't even hear the rest of the announcement as you just stare at the big screen depicting your failure. Everyone looked at it like it was some kind of painting with some strange untold stories.

You...lost? What was this weird feeling? Why wasn't our team happy? Why was that look of despair spreading around your team? Was this the feeling the teams you beat felt? You didn't like it and neither did Nagi or Reo.

"I don't like this. Why am I sad? This is what losing feels like. I don't like it." You hear Nagi mutter while standing close to you, gazing at the other celebrating team.

Reo was on the opposing side of the field. His gaze was cold, he wasn't looking at the other team, he just stared down. You decide to walk closer to him just for him to look up at you with a shattered look. Like he lost all motivation. You didn't like the look of anguish in his eyes, you only wanted to see his usual joyful look.

"I'm sorry. It's my fault-" Reo's voice was a bit shaky.

You didn't like him being sad. You never wanted to see him lose again if it meant he would be like this. Why were you feeling this way?... You felt like you could do anything to 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐜𝐭 his cheerful personality. You decide to gently smack his head at which he looks up scared.

"Our fault. We're a team." You smile softly at him while Nagi gives a thumbs up as approval. Reo smiles and nods. You appreciated the way your friendship was pure love and support for each other, no matter the case.

Your team still moved to second selection. Before you could move to that stage you had to train for a week straight. You thought it would be easy yet every night, as soon as your head hit the pillow you were out cold. After that week you finally got moved to second selection where followed only...more training. But it was worth it to pass that big door to see Reo and Nagi again. The room was bustling with life. You run to hug both of your friends. You didn't even know you missed them! You were ready to move to the next stage, this amazing trio had a bit more to fight to get to the national team-...

"Nagi?" You turn to see Nagi staring in the distance. Why wasn't he coming?

"Come on Nagi, we'll lose the head start." Reo sounded anxious.

But Nagi wasn't budging. Where was he even looking at?! You finally turn fully to scout the area. Isagi's team? So he was worried about what his team will be like?-

"Isagi, I want to join your team."

Oh, who would even want to join that idiot's team, you think scoffing before you recognise the voice. The voice that used to always nag you about games or deny any training.

"Nagi, what are you saying?" Before you could even react, Reo speaks.

Nagi was only walking further away from you. Where was he going? Was he pranking you? He never did that. Was he testing you? Did he want to see if you really cared? What did he want? Why would he leave? You feel like you're breaking down. The stable walls you had built alongside those two. The pillars of love, trust. Falling. Your face quickly loses all light, all hope. 𝐃𝐞𝐬𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫. It was taking you over. Eating away at all your feelings and emotions. Why was Nagi getting farther away? Why was he leaving? You turn to Reo for support, help, care yet you only see a crushed soul. It felt like the soccer player you loved to annoy was gone. Everything was 𝐠𝐨𝐧𝐞. This was a dream all along, wasn't it? No way everything would be destroyed this easily. Nothing was real, was it? Nothing really happened. Nothing-

"Nagi, we were supposed to be a family, a team!" You don't even know who said it. Was it you, or was it Reo who dared to shout those words?

You heard the door open. Those doors reserved for your small team of three. The small team meant to go to nationals. You stare at it like it was alive, like it took away Nagi, like that inanimate object was the one making you feel all this pain. You snap out of this spiral of doubt, feeling a weak hand taking your hand. Reo. What was supposed to be Reo, what remained. He was almost crying, almost, as always. He was staring at you, begging.

"Y/N. You won't...leave, isn't it?... I'm still of use to you." His voice was weak, shaky. It missed all the force and happiness it had.

You bring him closer and hug him. That's all you could think of. You wanted him close, you wanted to comfort and feel comforted. You feel Reo cling onto you like you would just disperse into small particles of dust if he lost his grip on you. It felt like he was holding onto the last piece of the dream he had. This was surreal.

"Y/N. You didn't respond. Why do you keep looking at those doors? Do you want to leave too? Please...don't..."

His voice. His embrace. It lost all past meaning. It was just pain. The despair you despised.

"I won't leave Reo. Why would I? You're everything I have." It's all you manage to say. You wanted to be strong. To help him yet you were as terrified as him.

The whole room was looking at you two, like you were putting up a show for their pleasure. Your pain, entertainment for them. You hated this place. You wanted to get out. You decide that you have to be the one helping. Some pieces of you still standing while Reo didn't have anything left. You take a deep breath. This was your role now. Build him up to build yourself up. Now how could you help him? Water? Maybe. He's dehydrated... You decide to get to the lounge and get some water.

"Don't...leave. Y/N please don't...I can't anymore."

You immediately turn to hug him once more, trying to soothe his pain. He muffled his cries in your shoulder while you were trying to hide his exhausted body. The others were preying on pain like it was their only source of energy. If you could, you would take out every single one of them...

This went on for a while until Reo calmed down. You both sat in a corner of the room. People were still whispering about what happened. Those useless...

"Y/N, you can leave me if you want to. You know that don't you? Maybe I've lost use or talent. That's why he left isn't it?" He was saying you could leave yet his tight grip on your hand was saying otherwise.

"I said I'm not leaving. I need you. You're talented Reo. Stop putting yourself down"

"..."

"Reo, please."

Silence. You turn to look at him. He was tired, worn out. A shell of what he was. But no worries, you would help him. You're going to always be there for him. You smile at the thought and move to stroke his hair. He just looks up at you, too weak to even react. You were calm yet your mind was racing. Nagi left, Reo is giving up on everything, you need to move forward but you can't push him too much.

"Hmmm, the geniuses fell? Where's the other one?"

You turn to look up at the one talking to you. The redhead from Team Z. Chigiri. You stand up, trying to protect Reo.

"What do you want?"

"Where is the white-haired one?"

"Not your problem."

"He left, isn't it? That's why the so-called genius is weeping."

His tone was sarcastic. You grit your teeth at the smug expression on his face.

"Not your problem I said. I advise you to stop."

Your tone was menacing, bloodthirsty even. Chigiri stopped and just glanced at Reo who was now standing behind you.

"I want to join your team. The white-haired one left you and my own team left me. We're on the same page aren't we?"

Oh, so he meant business. This is your chance. He was strong and his talent was of use. If you managed to forge some new reactions...you didn't need Nagi anymore.

"Very well. Welcome to the team, Chigiri." You shake his hand.

And so you could move to the next stage. Reo was clinging onto you and Chigiri was just walking next to us. He didn't seem to care about what Reo was doing which was perfect. You could rest before choosing who to fight against. You needed it, Reo needed it and by the exhausted look on Chigiri's face, he needed it too. The room was small yet comfy. Chigiri went out to train or just manage his thoughts as well, away from his new companions. And so you were left alone with Reo. He was just standing on the edge of the bed, staring at the floor. What was he thinking? He looked like instead of the floor he saw the replay of all his life. Of all that went wrong. You decide to bend down in front of him to grab his attention. He looks up slowly, his eyes red from crying.

"Reo, want me to bring you something from the cafeteria? You didn't eat today."

"No."

"Reo, you need to eat."

"I said no Y/N."

You couldn't even get through to him. He didn't leave the room. He didn't eat, he didn't train, he was rarely speaking. You move to gently comb your fingers through his hair. You wanted to help him, you wanted to bring his joy back yet it seemed like this was the new Reo. You sigh and move to lie on your bed. It was late anyway, you needed rest and he didn't seem like he was in the mood to talk anyway. You couldn't close your eyes though. Images of your happy memories with your friends flash in front of you if you do. It made you sick seeing how Reo has just gotten worse in just a few hours. You saw his strong figure, his smile, his laugh, yet across from you, you saw how he lost his pride, his everything, even himself.

You finally got to sleep for a while. You toss and turn...yet you somehow manage. It was mostly quiet yet you jumped at any little sound. The board's creaking, Chigiri moving around, anything. Even the quiet steps, the gently closed door, the muffled cries. You knew it was Reo. You wanted this to end. Why was 𝒇𝒂𝒕𝒆 plotting to destroy everything? What did you do? What did Reo do to deserve being torn apart like this? You walk up to the door and gently knock. You couldn't wake up Chigiri yet you couldn't let Reo alone.

"Reo. Open the door."

"Leave, I'm fine."

"You aren't, you're sick. You've been throwing up for at least 5 minutes. Open the door."

You were getting annoyed. Not at him, at yourself. You let this happen, didn't you? You didn't keep Nagi close, you didn't try to push Reo to eat or talk. You left him alone. You're a horrible person- You hear reluctant steps and a quiet click. That's everything that was holding you back. As soon as the pale bathroom light crept through the barely open door, you swung it open and leapt into Reo's embrace. You hug him as close as you can. You try to give him your warmth. He was cold, and fragile yet that made you want to 𝒑𝒓𝒐𝒕𝒆𝒄𝒕 him even more.

"I'm sorry I'm like this Y/N. I don't think I can continue anymore. I don't want to play soccer anymore. I don't want to live anymore. Too much..."

"Shh... I'm not mad. I will never be Reo. Please don't cry. It's fine..."

His arms were frail. He was crying uncontrollably while shaking. You could feel your shoulder get wet because of his tears. You didn't like it. Scouring the bathroom you saw a blade discarded on the floor. It felt like the little hope you still had crumbled. You move his arm up and gently kiss his wrist before moving his hand to cup your cheek. You try to smile while seeing the harrowing sight in front of you.

"It's fine. I'll help you, Reo. You're going to be fine. Please..." You were just pleading. Begging like your life depended on it.

"I don't want to continue. Too much pain. I feel sick Y/N."

His words were pure agony. At that very moment, you lost all composure. You felt like he was slowly slipping away from you. He was leaning against you, searching for support so he wouldn't fall. His hug wasn't strong like his usual ones. You couldn't do this anymore as well. You wanted this to end. You wanted to wake up, to wake up and see Reo and Nagi look over at you as they giggle at how you managed to fall asleep in such a silly position yet the daggers that were taunting your poor heart were real.

"Reo, wash your mouth and drink a bit of water to freshen up all right?" Your voice was soft and caring. You could see a small and broken smile form on his lips. Hope.

Reo did as you said. It was like he was a puppet, he didn't want to do anything yet he still listened to you. You were the only thing he had left. 𝑯𝒊𝒔 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒚𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈. After he drinks the water he looks up at you again, waiting for a new command.

"Y/N, I'll get better. For you." He sounds hopeful, his eyes glistening with adoration.

This was your new reality. Yet you didn't mind it if it meant he would get better. Even if it took years, decades, you will help him find himself again, you'll help him become the best player in Japan. You smile at the idea, it was foolish yet your immature reasoning couldn't stop you.

"Are you better, Reo? Think you can sleep?"

"Mhm... But Y/N, you don't mind what I've become? You don't see me as sickening?"

What question was that even? Reo, sickening? You saw him as the most beautiful boy. He was talented, caring, and loving. His voice was soft and sweet. His eyes were enchanting. His hair was soft and smelled of strawberries which he always denied with a small blush. He always knew how to make you laugh, he always protected you. How could he even ask that?

"Y/N?... Ah, I knew you saw me that way. No need to hide it."

"No."

"Huh? What do you?-"

"I love you."

Why did you let those words slip? You're stupid... He'll get even more scared. This is it, you're done-

You hear him...laugh. Ah, so it was funny...good enough... His arms snake around you, holding you close to him. His eyes were gloomy yet a small flicker of fondness fought its way through.

"I love you more Y/N. I'm not in the right state to give you all my love yet...- Y/N I'll be me again, I'll be even better. Just please, wait for me."

That sweet smile you cherished, it was back. Even if it was only for a split second... It's all you need.

"I'll wait for you."

Hope you enjoyed it! If you have any tips on how to improve please do tell. ฅ^•ﻌ•^ฅ

[pianostarinwonderland]

it's a shame that the relationship between Azul and Riddle doesn't get mention much, istg those two have so much potential to become bestie 😔

IKR ????? ffs these two have been duo partners since the very beginning of Twst and everybody still sleeps on them >:(((

Like..... they're both 2nd year dorm leaders who are in their year's top 10 and they work hard to achieve their goals. If the others were aiming to get what they want, Riddle and Azul already had what they wanted at the start—Riddle's leadership and ability to control the dorm and Azul's power over the students. Notice as well that they have spearheaded big big school projects in main story where other dorm leaders did not do—Azul with Magift in ch2 and Riddle with VDC in ch5.

Halloween 2 was so yummy for giving us Riddle being so ardent about Azul's possessed self being lazy. Like, he didn't have to go on a tangent about how he admired Azul for putting in so much effort in anything he does, but he did. Riddle is very well aware of how sketchy Azul is, and despite that, he still respects his intelligence and diligence. That's so yummy, you know?

When chapter 6 gave us Azul-Riddle tower, that was so GOOD for me. Fandom may not get me, but canon DID and I fucking WON. I just love how ??????? they both clash???????? But then they both get so happy when they defeat one titan together and it was so so SO CUTE THEY'RE JUST TEENAGE BOYS DESPITE THE MATURE FRONTS THEY PRESENT............ and when Azul slept on Riddle's shoulder!!!! That has to be such a big sign of trust especially in a small span of time because Azul keeps people at a distance. From calling everyone except tweels by -san to intentionally putting himself at a position of power above other people, he doesn't emotionally connect with others. It's understandable given his backstory, so it means all the more when Azul decided that he could rest his head on Riddle's shoulder. That was just.. so cute... and there is so much bestie potential just from that.

Part of the reason why I love Azul and Riddle together is because they're my two favorite characters in Twst. But really, their chemistry? Delicious. I really hope to see Twst expanding more on their friendship ;u; I just love seeing Azul getting along with people outside of the twins.

[corruptedplaylist]

act iii: final notes

edit: 4/9/2024: added some more stuff!!! i'll put this emoji 🫧 next to the new things so u know where to scroll.

AHHHHHHHHHHHH I FINISHED MY FIRST FULL LENGTH FIC HOLD ON LEMME JUST THROW UP IN THE CORNER REAL QUICK

i am sooooooo normal rn anyways let's get into it thank u for having me on the show, mr. kimmel. i've had a raging headache all day so the content underneath each sections will be kinda short. i'll go through and add more to it once i recover but i wanted to get this up before the week got too busy!

krolia

guys…. im so sorry for the angst….. it was necessary for the plot…….

maybe it’s just me projecting but in the actual show, i kind of wish we had seen more of the emotional fallout that occurred after krolia revealed that she was keith’s mom. because let’s be real here, there’s no way that keith’s traumatized ass would just willingly accept her back into his life. he’d have questions. he’d be in disbelief. it’s hard for him to open up to others and he carries a lot of hurt from being abandoned.

it was crucial in the course of this fic to have that confrontation between krolia and keith. it's not always going to be rainbows and sunshine, and even though they both missed each other deeply, you don't just automatically connect and forget everything that's happened. even if keith hadn't gone into the foster system, he definitely would have carried a lot of anger and hurt towards krolia when she shows back up. i'm sure that things won't just be smooth sailing and they'll need to hash things out multiple times as they rebuild their relationship but that first fight was a big hurdle to get over.

if you’re curious, i have a whooollleeee backstory for what happened with krolia and why she couldn’t get back to her kid. i couldn’t really fit it into the fic but i’ll put it right here for those who are interested:

2000: krolia in the US on student visa, first year of of PhD program

krolia meets heath and they fall in love

2003: krolia gives birth to keith

2008: krolia finishes grad school/PhD program/doctoral degree and applies for a work visa 

2009: she and heath and baby keith are living their life but krolia’s parents find out and are like girl you need to come home NOW or we will disown you 

krolia’s family are really wealthy and powerful 

krolia: i’ll come back for you guys idk how but i will 

krolia goes back to the states

2009-2011: she and heath write letters but then the letters start getting intercepted by the family and eventually peters out

krolia in arranged marriage and thinks her partner forgot about her or didn’t care

meanwhile heath doesn’t know what happened to krolia but can’t do anything about it bc she’s in a diff country and he doesn’t speak korean

2011: heath and keith move to texas for job or whatever

heath tells keith all about krolia and how she loves him but can’t be there and obvi that fucks keith up bc he misses his mom but where tf is she? how does he know she loves him if she’s not even there? he's a little kid

2013: heath dies and keith is put into the system

heath has no other family members

krolia put her english name on the birth certificate and so ofc she doesn’t exist in the US

texas social services try to reach out to krolia along with some friends but letters are intercepted

2016: someone reaches out to krolia after she finally gets facebook 

friend: thinking of you. miss you. so sorry about heath

krolia: …. what the fuck about heath?

friend: uhhhhhhhh

krolia goes on rampage to her family like wtf u mean u didn’t tell me that the father of my child is dead

cousin shows up with the intercepted letters (official notice from social services, heath’s letters and pictures, keith’s little notes and drawings)

krolia starts the process of legally and financially emancipating herself from her family (she basically was Britney’d)

2017/2018: finally is free and able to get a job in the states

starts tracking down heath (they only had a forwarding address for krolia so they’re like wtf who is this bih)

at this point, keith has already met the shiroganes and changed his name

krolia is in a different state and can only do so much 

spends the next few years trying to find him, hires P.I., again keep running into blocks bc social workers and case managers are NOT going to budge on giving up keith's personal information

2023, winter break: krolia reaches out to keith through facebook but it goes into his spam since they’re not facebook friends

allura

what better allegory for sacrificing yourself to save the universe is there than graduating college? in all fairness, i felt like sticking to the notion of allura saying goodbye and leaving the group had its merit, just y’know, i wanted to take a step down from the whole dying thing. i tried to pay homage to the canon material as much as possible while also providing my own spin on things.

one thing that’s been important to me is depicting allura as a college student. sure, while i think most iterations of allura as a kind and a great leader and intelligent are great, even in modern au fics, i just wish there had been a bit more... silliness? outside of her being like the girlboss, the hell yeah supporting character or love interest or bone-tired leader, i always wonder what she would have been like if she hadn't had to save the universe and was just trying to heal on her own terms. yeah, i nerfed her parents in this universe but i tried to showcase her doing normal college things as well, like presenting at research conferences, getting a bit messy drunk, having pizza nights and group hang outs. the funny thing about grief is that life does not stop for it, so you have to just figure things out along the way.

i also didn't want to elaborate too much on her relationship with lotor. she didn't magically heal from that one conversation with lance in chapter 8 but i wanted the readers to get a taste of what was going on in her head through their dialogue. plus, it was a little moment to show how she was allowing herself to open up to other people like lance. no one woman is an island, no matter how much of a bad b!tch you are.

🫧 also, i wanted to include it somewhere but basically, keith knew allura and romelle were hooking up since chapter 14! keith caught romelle sneaking out of allura's room early one morning and he just kept it to himself because snitches get stitches.

pidge

they are so precious to me. they're an amalgamation of 2 of my closest friends, and well, me.

i always knew that pidge was going to be a super important piece in klance development. while lance and keith are great friends, i think pidge played a crucial role in bridging them together in the beginning, before the two of them had cleared up their misunderstandings and made that truce. sure, allura asked them to be on the paintball team but pidge really forced the two of them into close quarters. lance might have extended the offer to keith to hand out without pidge or he might not have. honestly, i'm not really sure. but pidge inviting keith to hang out in chapter 4 was a quiet but big moment because both keith and lance are friends with pidge and will set aside their differences long enough to tolerate each other's presence in a shared space. pidge just has #babyofthefriendgroup privileges.

🫧 i honestly think that after the main two, pidge has undergone the most growth (physically and emotionally) throughout the fic, even though they're a supporting character. we can all benefit from community and friendship but i think pidge needed it a little bit more.

🫧 i partially wrote pidge to represent my younger self, especially when i first attended college. i was scared and alone and i had never been away from home and it was a struggle to form new relationships (and figure out my gender identity. mannnnnn fuck that). it was nice to see pidge find their place and niche among the greater social fabric of college, kind of like comforting my younger self for all the loneliness and uncertainty i endured.

hunk

i love hunk so dearly. ngl, i wanted him to have a bigger arc than he did but hopefully i did a decent job at making feel more well-rounded as a supporting character. i decided to actually kind of lean into this distance in the later chapters as well, esp from lance's pov, as they both got busier. at the end of the day, though, i knew that those two would come back together. hunk is a kind and sympathetic friend and his and lance's friendship will persevere because they're good communicators. their little talk in chapter 17 was me talking to myself and to anyone else who has went through a similar thing where they find themselves drifting a little farther from a friend.

people get busy and that's okay! there will be ebbs and flows in every relationship. even though shared history is a crucial part of a friendship but it can't be the only thing that will keep it going. you need to nurture it and tend to it in order for it to keep it alive and flourishing. hunk understands this and he and lance will be just fine after their talk. hunk is probably the most emotionally intelligent person after adam in the group, and i'm glad he was there to help both lance and keith out when they needed it.

adam

this man!!!!! got i have gotten so fucking attached to adam throughout this fic. he is so dear to me. i know in chapter 10 i wrote from adam's pov and he's a goofy guy in his twenties who's just trying to be a good dad friend but somehow he ended up being a voice of reason and comfort for klance in this fic. lance misses his family a lot and i think adam can not only relate to lance with the homesickness but also lance has started to rely on him a bit like he would with his siblings.

i wanted to try my own spin on adam and keith's relationship. i've seen fics where adam and keith hate each other, don't interact much, or adam takes on a parenting role towards keith as a kid. i wanted to look at keith and adam in the context of two people who both love shiro and then grow to be good friends/surrogate brother-in-law? idk. long story short, adam is very emotionally intelligent and i think he genuinely wanted to get to know keith outside of his connection with shiro and was patient enough to coax keith out of his shell. i tried to write in small ways adam takes care of keith like giving him LactoJoys because Keith likes the taste better than Lactaids, being there for him for his panic attack, adding food to his plate. things that won't draw too much attention, because we all know how keith is about receiving acts of kindness.

i mentioned this in a comment under one of the chapters but all of the advice adam gives keith is either advice i personally received myself or something i wish i could tell my younger self. i hope those words bring you comfort as well!

shiro

i had a lot more planned for shiro but goddammit i had no fucking time or space at this panned out. it's more so klance's story than shiro's.

look, there's a small moment in chapter 18 where shiro is very pleased (and a little surprised) that keith has talked about him with krolia. it has less to do with his faith in keith and more with how he sees himself. shiro has already acknowledged that he has heavy imposter syndrome and deals with his own struggles with self image. it's just always a jolt to your system when someone (could be your own family or your partner of years) validates your relationship.

shiro loves keith very much and just wants to be the best big brother. he has such eldest child syndrome, where he tries to pretend that everything is fine even though things are actually crumbling around him. the thing is, though, you can't build intimacy— real, lasting intimacy and depth in a relationship— without being vulnerable. shiro understands that even though he wants keith to work on opening up, he has to do the same and reciprocate the actions, or else neither of them will really get anywhere and be stuck in that loop of "are you mad at me/i feel like you're hiding something from me/i don't really know who you are."

i tried writing a bit from shiro's pov but i quickly realized that that would drastically change the tone of the fic so i had to scrap it. i might post a little oneshot in the distant future with adashi, though.

keith

🫧 i've talked about this before but although i think keith grew the most as a character in the canon show, that shit was WAY too fast and off-screen. also, i know that the whole found family trope is what drew a lot of fans to voltron in the first place (like me) but is the found family in the room with us rn? i felt like they all started to fall apart or at least weren't as close as the show wanted us to believe. it felt a lot like telling with no showing. other than some occasional moments in the show, the whole #teamasfamily felt hollow.

🫧 i wanted to build on this potential found family for keith's character. he's never had a support system before and he's used to pushing people away but now he has a whole ass friend group that's ready to fight for him if he gives the word.

🫧 initially, when i was writing keith's pov and trying to get a feel for his voice and tone, i struggled a bit. keith is one of those characters that i liked and sympathized with, but getting into his head was a whole different story. i'm more of a lance kinnie but once i got the hand of keith's voice, it was a lot easier. some of my best pieces of writing are from keith's pov! i tried to be as cognizant of keith's development as much as possible as i wrote (think me having various checkpoints for his journey whereas with lance i could just coast on vibes), and i'm pleased with how far he's come.

🫧 although both keith and lance's progress can showcased through their consciousness and thoughts (like duh ur reading from their povs), i leaned into keith's behavior as a way to portray his progress a bit more than lance. things like him being more open to physical affection, not sitting on the outskirts of group dynamics and sticking to shiro, and allowing himself to collect things, which by the way:

🫧 i like the idea of keith's room, once being so empty and ghost-like, is now full of stuff, mementos of his relationships that he's built. i tried to sprinkle in some relics from past chapters (paintball flag, polaroids, ticket stubs), as well add some new tidbits, like shiro giving him a cacti and that korean cookbook!

proud of u, keith bby <3

lance and marco

no i did not just torture lance for the sake of torturing him i would never do that to my boy.

i know this is a fanfiction, but from the start, i wanted to ground this fic in reality and breathe some life into it. lance's little arc with his brother having a substance abuse problem was loosely inspired by events in my personal life.

🫧 i'm not saying that everyone goes through something as drastic as a loved one going to rehab, but as young adults, when we leave home for uni, jobs, other opportunities, etc, there's this worry that something bad will happen while we're away. and often times it does. someone gets sick, a beloved pet passes away, it's all bound to happen. your childhood becomes a thing of the past, and things that you thought would stay the same just won't.

i projected a lot of my feelings onto lance ngl, and writing him work through his own grief and guilt over not being able to be with his family when they're going through a crisis helped me process a little bit more.

although lance had a happier ending than a lot of families might get in reality, i still wanted to show lance having a support system at college and realizing that he has a second family to lean on, and people who love and support him. he doesn't have to pretend to be okay for anyone and that's okay.

black paladin lance or as close to it as i could get

it was so important for me to make lance the new captain of their paintball team, as a stand-in for the black paladin arc he could have had in the show. he’s always been a selfless guy who puts others first and really pulls up when he needs to. he deserves to be recognized for that. not only did every single one of his friends validate him, but the person he looks up to the most literally endorsed him. lance struggles with his inferiority complex and the election scene was a little feel good moment for me, personally, so that he could receive the acknowledgement he deserves, especially with his growth. he's gonna be an awesome team captain (he'll be shuffling down to shiro's room at 2am covered in hickeys and talking about paintball strategies).

wrapping up loose ends

i tried to wrap up as many loose ends as possible and give all the characters a proper send-off. originally i wanted lance and hunk to also move into the house in castle street, like repurpose the basement or something but i realized that that just wasn’t possible because most college basements don’t even have heating or like,,,, a livable arrangement.

ultimately, i think it makes sense for pidge to be the one to take up allura’s room at the house. pidge has lived a single during the academic year but they also had lance and hunk right fifty feet away so it’s not like they REALLY lived alone that year. there was also the logistics of the house having a vacant room, and as much as i would have loved to have all of voltron under the same roof (hunk and pidge sharing a room, keith and lance sharing a room), i think they would kill each other. pidge filling in the gap felt like the right move. and lance and hunk are gonna be over a lot anyways, so it’s not like much has changed in the trio's group dynamic.

🫧 what was your favorite chapter to write?

i think i have different chapters in mind for different reasons, even if it's a copout answer. here are the chapters that are dearest to me:

chapter 4: recalibration this is the chapter where i really got to play around with character interactions. keith and lance's worlds were beginning to integrate in chapter 3 but in this chapter, i got to explore different friendships, like keith & pidge and lance & hunk, and the dynamics they entailed. you can see how important these friendships are to both lance and keith, and how their connection with others eventually helps them to reflect on their previous feelings toward each other, like "hmm maybe i've been too harsh with the other."

chapter 10: let's go to the beach the group dynamics were so solidified to this point, and it was so fun to write. i loved writing from adam's pov and being able to zoom out and showcase klance's relationship progression.

the winter break interludes i waxed poetic about these in a previous faq but to reiterate: i'm really pleased with the way each individual chapter turned out. i love a good character study, and it was a great challenge to my writing and characterization to dig deeper into their home lives and see how the past confronted the present, where their respective childhoods were brought into the light, and how long-held notions of belonging, home, and identity were challenged and remolded.

chapter 17: warm and light my beta reader drunkenguac said that this was some of my best writing and i've been coasting off of that validation for the past 4 months. keith's reunion with his mother was especially cathartic for me. as an adoptee, writing this chapter honestly helped me work through some of my feelings about my adoption as i pictured what it would look like if i was ever reunited with my birth mother. i'm very fortunate that i didn't have to go through the same experiences keith did, but i tried to imbue as much humanness as possible into his section.

chapter 18: moving on it just felt like a proper send-off, the one that we never got from s8 of voltron. i wanted the last chapter to basically have this vibe of "hey, things won't be the same but it's going to be okay because we have each other." when shiro tells matt in the end, "we'll still be here," that's me as the author, telling you, the reader, that this fic will still be here whenever you want to revisit it. it was a comfort to write and i've heard that it's a comfort to read, which is so so so gratifying. when i set out to write this fic in august of 2023, i didn't have any plans of grandeur or even expect like more than 100 people read it— it was just a passion project that i decided to share, and i'm glad that others have sought safety in it. outside of fandom, this fic is a love letter to my own college experience. i remember reading a college au fic when i was still in high school and lonely and closeted and repressed and wondering if i would ever be able to get out of my hometown and find a community as tightly-knit as the fic portrayed it. in a way, i got to reflect on my college experience by writing looking out for you. i find solace in this fic when i read back over it, and i can see aspects of my adventures throughout my freshman and sophomore and junior and senior years, waving from behind a thinly veiled curtain. this fic is dedicated to all the people who made my college experience.

anyways that's me rambling for now! thank you again to everyone who has tuned into looking out for you. this is the first piece of creative writing i've done in a long time, and i never expected to actually finish it. i'm so happy with the way it turned out and the love it's received. until next time!

[obikinwhore]

Heyyy to the 5 real people and 69 porn bots following me. I wrote a little piece of garbage <3 its f/f padawans obikin with Anakin's unhealthy obsession with Obi-Wan's tiddies.

Title from Electric Feel by MGMT

Rating: Explicit

Words: 5770

Warning: underage (so hold onto your rosaries for me)

Under the cut is the fic if u don't want to read on ao3

Anakin collapses into Obi-Wan’s arms and nestles her head in the older girl’s chest as she welcomes the older girl back from a week-long trip with her Master. Qui-Gon watches and laughs softly at the encounter, seemingly in good spirits despite having been interrupted from the tense discussion with Obi-Wan where they had been discussing the past mission. Obi-Wan feels a quiet dismay at how easily Qui-Gon has always taken with Anakin. He had always been entranced by the younger girl and proud of her accomplishments since he found her 3 years ago. 

The feeling is quickly overtaken by Anakin’s first words. “Obi-Wan I’m so glad you’re back here safe. It was so boring at the temple without you!” The younger girl finally pulls back just enough that they aren’t touching, but only just. “Come, let’s go talk about your mission.” Anakin grabs Obi-Wan’s hand and yanks her away from her master who clears his throat in response.

Obi-Wan has always been blinded by the intense and powerful personality that is Anakin. Without her master’s interruption, she would have followed Anakin towards the temple. The blonde girl is filled with energy and a pervasive desire to have Obi-Wan’s full attention at all times. 

Anakin turns the strength of her personality on Qui-Gon now. Using all the glitter of her charisma to persuade him to let her friend go. “As long as I am not keeping Obi-Wan from any pressing duties Master?”

Qui-Gon’s eyes crinkle and a contented expression passes his face. “Of course not. Go along padawan, enjoy the time back at the temple.” The ease at which he caves to Anakin’s demands with just a grin, leaves a mournful feeling in her stomach that she should be used to by now. 

“Thank you Master Jinn!” Anakin drags her off toward the inner part of the temple, not giving the elder girl a second to catch her bearings. “Thank you, Master.” Obi-Wan speaks over her shoulder as she’s tugged away by Anakin. 

Once they’ve left the landing pad and are making their way through a more secluded hallway of the temple, Anakin drops the cheerful, childlike demeanor. “It really was boring without you Obi-Wan. Master Windu had me doing reports again because I skipped a diplomatics lesson.  Her change from glib to the sweeter more intense tone she takes on with Obi-Wan is always a bit of a whiplash. 

“How was your mission with your Master?” Obi-Wan’s face shutters for a second recalling the mistakes she made and how bluntly they were pointed out by Qui-Gon. “It was fine for the most part. Honestly I’m not sure how much help I was to him. I didn’t exactly show my best skills out there. I’m still having a hard time grasping hand to hand combat. My skills lie more heavily upon saber work.”

“Oh? Do you want to spar then? I haven’t been able to since you left.” Obi-Wan would have known that without Anakin telling her this. Obi-Wan seems to be the only one Anakin has made much of a connection to, and she never seemed keen on making more friends at all.

“I’m not sure, Anakin. I’m sort of tired from the flight and I really should be catching up on my studies for what I have missed.” Obi-Wan notices they’re still holding hands as they’re walking, but doesn’t say anything to dissuade it. Despite Anakin being a bit overbearing, she has always enjoyed when the girl was more tactile with her.

“Oh, please! Come on, let's spar.” A smug look passes upon Anakin’s face. “Oh… or are you scared to lose? I know you weren’t able to beat me the last time we spared.” The smile that blooms on the blonde’s face is incredibly annoying and does exactly what Anakin set out for it to do.

“Anakin, you're being childish. You almost lost to Quinlan the week before I left. I wouldn’t talk such a big game when just before that, I had beaten him easily.” A few weeks ago Obi-Wan had been sparring with Quinlan who was another good friend of hers. She didn’t get much of a chance to hang out with him lately so the bout was a good way of killing two porgs with one stone.

The smile slips off of Anakin’s face when Obi-Wan finishes speaking. The redhead forgets about the not so friendly rivalry that exists only in Anakin’s mind.  “I definitely didn’t almost lose to him. He was using his retrocognition to touch my lightsaber and see the new katas I wanted to try out on him.” The force around them seems to thicken with Anakin’s change in mood and fine tipped words.

“Anakin, please I would rather not. I honestly need to go to my rooms and meditate on my past mission and mistakes.” Obi-Wan was already trying to shake off Anakin’s hand and head in the direction of the dorm. Anakin just grasps her hand tighter and pulls Obi-Wan towards her in a durasteel grip. “If you just go to your dorm, I’m going to follow and bother you. You know that.”

The tense mood around them from earlier dissipates in the force, but soon electrifies with the idea that falls into Anakin’s head. “Why don’t we do this then? Let’s do a few quick matches, just hand to hand with no sabers so you can practice from your mistakes? You win the best out of three and I’ll leave you alone to meditate or sleep or whatever.”

This was honestly the best outcome that Obi-Wan could hope for, she did have a fair chance at winning with her height. Plus sabers would not be used, so Anakin couldn’t use any of her tricky Vaapad. The younger girl could be irritatingly persistent with getting what she desired. Most of the time it was easier to just go along with it. The other times… well, the other times Anakin usually got her way too, but just used more force to get her way. It was both a bit disturbing and something Obi-Wan admired about her greatly. Whenever the blonde had a goal in mind she usually achieved it, her will was almost a sure thing. 

And when that will was focused on her? It both made her feel unbearably warm with a tinge of guilt and dread. She knew that she would most likely fall prey to the outcome that Anakin wanted, but the craving that Anakin had for Obi-Wan’s person and recognition? It was addicting. Especially to a girl who was so very nearly not chosen for padawanship.

“Alright Anakin. Three matches and if I win, then I’ll leave. What do you get if you win?” Anakin’s hand clenched Obi-Wan’s tighter in excitement. Her face filling up with glee at having gotten the redhead to bow to her whims so easily. “Hmm. I’m not sure yet. Why don’t we decide once you’ve lost?” The younger girl laughs throatily with her head tilted back. “Plus the surprise will make you more inspired to win.”

Obi-Wan shook her head at the younger girl’s tactic but felt herself filling up with anticipation anyway. Sometimes nothing was better than being able to knock Anakin down a peg. “Fine. Lead the way, Skywalker.” Anakin’s smile shows both rows of her pretty white teeth which Obi-Wan mirrors back, as Anakin leads them both toward the training salles.

------------

Obi-Wan’s back hits the training room mats again as Anakin sits straddled upon her belly with her hands holding Obi-Wan’s wrists above her head. Her feet hook around Obi-Wan’s thighs to immobilize her. Anakin has Obi-Wan pinned for a few moments while she struggles, captivating blue eyes taking in the elder padawan’s face then slowly tracking down her body to stare at her torso. 

With the skirmish, Obi-Wan’s robes had loosened slightly and opened in a slight v shape, the top of her sports bra peeking out. Anakin gathers Obi-Wan’s wrists in a single hand and moves the other to open Obi-Wan’s tunic to expose her bra to full view. 

“Anakin… What are you doing? Leave my robes alone, anyone could walk in”, Obi-Wan turns her head to the side to cover her rapidly heating face in her arm. 

Anakin giggles endearingly above her, “Release your worries into the force Obi-Wan, isn’t that what you’re always saying?” Anakin continued to fiddle with her robes and further opened them so the majority of her bra was visible. “Anyway I can sense that no one is out there, it’s just us.”  

Obi-Wan turns her head back to face Anakin and feels her stomach twist in embarrassment and something guiltily pleasant at the way Anakin is unblinkingly eying her chest. Her blonde head slowly moves closer as if she doesn’t already have a good enough angle to see. 

The stark difference between Anakin's heated breath closing in and the cooler room air pebbles Obi-Wan’s nipples and has gooseflesh erupt throughout the redhead’s body. The sight of both drawing out a soft inquisitive noise from Anakin. A thumb appears and brushes over a tight nub through the cloth. Obi-Wan gasps sharply and squeezes her eyes shut. No one has touched her here other than herself and even then, Obi-Wan barely brushes them when she changes in or out of her clothes.  

The teasing touch feels electric, a zing that travels from her chest down her body. Anakin doesn’t let up from rubbing her thumb to and fro. Anakin’s small thumb stuttering as it passes over the peak of her nipple. 

“Obi-Wan, do you know how much you have grown in the last few months?” 

Obi-Wan opens her eyes to see Anakin has raised her head to gauge the redhead’s reaction to her question. Both girls are open mouthed, inches apart and caught in each other’s gravity, exchanging humid breath. Anakin licks her lips as if to savor the taste of it from Obi-Wan’s lungs. 

When no words pass from Obi-Wan’s lips, Anakin’s blue eyes narrow and she harshly pinches the nipple she had been toying with. “Aahh, Anakin!” Anakin leans forward and doubles down with her left hand to bruise and melt Obi-Wan’s wrists into the mats when the elder girl tries to shy away from the pain. 

“Answer me Obi-Wan. How much has your chest grown recently? Your tits are so much bigger, my hand can’t even grab one completely.” To emphasize her statement, Anakin does exactly that. She takes her hand and gropes Obi-Wan’s breast, squeezing and playing with it. Switching  to the other breast at her leisure to give it the same treatment. 

Heat gathers anew up her neck and fills her entire face to the tips of her ears. The embarrassment threatens to overwhelm Obi-Wan with Anakin’s casual reference of her breasts as tits. “I…I don’t know. Anakin, let me go and stop grabbing me like that! Don’t refer to my chest that way either.” 

“You lost, remember Obi-Wan? Now it’s time for my prize.” Anakin already started moving onwards as if that was all the excuse she needed. “Wait! What we decided earlier was not just a blanket statement to just do whatever you please Anakin.”

“Why not? We’re both girls and I just want to see. You promised to help me with any questions or problems I had. Or did you forget that too?” Obi-Wan did recall, but Obi-Wan told her that when she had just been taken as Qui-Gon’s padawan three years ago. Anakin had just been brought to the temple. She had been so new and out of place, having grown up in the outer rim and knowing nothing of the force. A small blonde thing with bright eyes and a loneliness that was palpable to even Obi-Wan who had always had such a hard time harnessing the force for such tactics.

Since then Anakin had been stuck to her like the flexi-paste of the younger girl’s mechanical projects. She has also used this line multiple times to get Obi-Wan to follow along with her childish plans or at times, answer invasive questions such as this one.

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan croaked out. She was having difficulty forming a thought with Anakin’s hand continuing to massage and explore her breasts. She chokes back a moan from the treatment and mortified, she feels the beginnings of an unwilling arousal start to pool below her navel. 

The trouble with Anakin is that she is so very tactile. She learns through touch and experimentation. Creates and dismantles droids with ease. Inspecting the parts by hand as her brilliant mind figures out how all the pieces come together. Her exploration of Obi-Wan’s chest is her way of answering her own question. In this aspect, Obi-Wan feels very much like a new toy for Anakin to play with and decipher the inner workings of.

Obi-Wan clenches her thighs together tightly. 

“That was for any trouble you had acclimating to the temple and the ways of the Jedi. Not to pin me down and grasp at me. Let me up and stop fondling me! This isn’t proper.” 

“Well then,” Anakin laughs and is radiant with girlish amusement. “If you want to leave so badly, get out of my hold. I’ll let this topic and you go, but if you can’t?” A predatory smile appears on her face, “Then it looks like you’ll have to stay here and answer me.” 

The nerves twist harder in Obi-Wan’s stomach after hearing this ultimatum while another zing flows down her body in trepidation. Despite Obi-Wan’s four years, four inches on the younger girl and entire childhood having been brought up with learning how to harness the force, Anakin is extraordinarily stronger. Frighteningly stronger actually. 

Rumors had always surrounded Anakin and her mysterious sudden appearance at the temple. The child of the force they called her. The Chosen One. 

With the experience that Obi-Wan has had with her, she knows down to the marrow of her bones that the rumors are true. As true and real as the thrumming, living force that surrounds them here in this room.

“Anakin, this is not some game—“ Anakin darts her other hand to hold Obi-Wan’s wrists once more, bruising and secure. Her tanned face eclipses the lights above them and brings a shadow over both of their faces. The intimate position lets Anakin’s short padawan brain brush Obi-Wan’s cheek. A soft, ticklish caress that is contrasted with Anakin’s next sharp words. 

“If you want out, then prove it Obi-Wan. Otherwise I will find out the answer myself. ”

Obi-Wan began to struggle to get out of the younger girl’s clutch. She tries to strain up and use the force to throw Anakin off, or even push her slightly to try to get an advantage. It was utterly humiliating to see that this 12 year old girl was able to hold her down with ease, as she arched her spine up and ran out of breath. Embarrassing animal noises coming out of her from the effort. 

Anakin moved with her easily, flowing with her movements and manipulating the force to hold Obi-Wan’s extremities down. 

After a sufficient time where even the embarrassment of losing was outweighed by the reality of her weakness, Obi-Wan fell limp and tried to control her breathing. Sweat had gathered at the edges of her hairline and across the bridge of her nose. She focused on Anakin who was watching her with an open mouthed smile showcasing her satisfaction at winning her game. Her pupils dilate and take over the crystalline blue color of her hooded eyes. 

Despite Obi-Wan’s now slack body, Anakin continues to rock her pelvis upon the elder girl’s belly as if Obi-Wan were still in the act of resisting. If she weren’t already breathing hard from the previous exertion, Anakin’s movements would have brought her there all the same. 

Before she could have just explained away Anakin’s actions as her normal inquisitive nature. But her face, the color beginning to bleed into the tops of her cheekbones and her rolling hips can’t be taken for anything else other than what it is. Anakin’s eyes then catch once more on Obi-Wan’s heaving chest. 

Obi-Wan has a bad feeling about this.

“You’re so pretty when you squirm, did you know?. Look how your tits bounce with your breath. You get red from your face all the way down don’t you?” 

The words ionize straight to Obi-Wan’s core, plasma hot. A second heartbeat starts to thrum between her legs. The elder girl lets out a shaky breath and with it feels the fight leave her. “I don’t know.” Obi-Wan chews on her lower lip in trepidation. “I’ve never paid attention to that.” The tension of what Anakin will do next is too much to bear.

“Hmmm, guess we are gonna have to find that out.” Anakin takes a hand from Obi-Wan’s wrists and goes to the bottom of the older girl’s bra. The blonde grabs the edge of the sports bra and yanks the front elastic up and over the curves of the redhead’s breasts. 

Her chest spills out and the elastic of the bra snaps dully at the very top to push her breasts further down. 

“Oh, Obi-Wan.” Her voice has a singsong, entrancing quality to it. “You do get red down here too.” 

Anakin’s bare calloused hand cups her breast and bounces it in her palm. Testing the give like she would when encountering a new mechanical piece. Obi-Wan’s eyes flutter with the sensation and she bites back the whimper that almost jumps out of her throat.

Anakin isn’t incorrect. Obi-Wan’s breasts are tender, sensitive from how much they have been growing in the past year. She’s had to size up in her bras three times and each time she has been so mortified to ask her master for more money to purchase the new clothes. 

“Anakin...” Obi-Wan aches to reprimand her, but her name comes out as a moan. 

“Obi-Wan” Anakin instinctively answers back. The blonde is distracted now with rubbing Obi-Wan’s nipples in maddening circles. “Your nipples are so big and pink. Your tits are the prettiest thing I have ever seen .”

Obi-Wan doesn’t know if she can clench her thighs tighter. The words alone are enough to bring a whine out of her. “Has anyone else ever seen you like this?” 

“I… no Anakin. Who could I have had time for? You’re always with me, who could I have had” Obi-Wan swallows the pooling drool from her mouth and scours her pleasure-addled mind for an appropriate term. “relations with?”

Anakin locks flinty eyes with her and tightens both of her hands to the point of pain. “Quinlan Vos?” The plumpness of her mouth disappears with her venomous look. “Master Qui-Gon?” 

“Master Qui-Gon!?” Obi-Wan wheezes out, mind fracturing from even the thought of her master even wanting to see her in such a state. The living force around them flexes with Anakin’s rising temper. The room turning oppressive, a pot of water just on the edge of boiling. 

“You wanted for him to see you like this didn’t you? Is this why you always parade around with your obi tied so tightly under your tits? Pushing them out? Trying to seduce your master?” The snarl on Anakin distorts her young, beautiful face. The look of a child who will not share her toys. 

“What? You can’t be serious. I’ve been trying to hide them, they’re so embarrassing. I’ve never tried to seduce him…. or anyone.” The ‘I swear’ goes unsaid, but not unheard. The blonde searches the redhead’s eyes searching for any hidden lie. 

She won’t find one. 

Anakin lets the elder girl’s wrists go and splays both hands to cover as much of Obi-Wan’s chest as she is able. She squeezes each almost like a tic, like something that comforts and compels her. Obi-Wan wishes that she could say it wasn’t leaving her slightly wet in her leggings.

“I want you to know Obi-Wan, your tits belong to me.” The blonde girl smiles down a bit manically, eyes far away as she recalls earlier times. “The force brought us together, Obi-Wan. You were the only one that made me feel less alone here. And I’ve been watching you since that day. You used to be flatter like me, but after we met your chest started growing. Growing like your body knew and was making itself ready for me. Filling up for me like a mother’s would.”  

The words awaken a need in Obi-Wan. Ions vibrating and crashing into each other under her skin. 

The blonde’s face tilts back up, so unfairly beautiful. Almost glowing with the surety of her statement, from the invigorating pulse of the force that tells Anakin that its daughter is unmistakably right. “It’s time that I had a taste.”

Anakin slides her body down Obi-Wan’s abdomen. Making sure to rub herself all the way until their crotches match up. A small moan comes out of the open wound of the younger girl’s mouth and Obi-Wan feels the sound like the sweetest brush to her clit. 

Anakin has wanted her. Maybe even for years. Paying attention to her in the way little 9-year-old girls shouldn’t have. 

Her plush rose colored lips pucker up child-like and lay a chaste kiss to the peak of Obi-Wan’s left breast. The touch is electrifying and all the nerves in Obi-Wan’s body light up like a constellation in the force. The stillness of the training room provides the perfect auditorium for the echo of Obi-Wan’s throaty grunt.

“See? You can’t hide from me Obi-Wan.” Anakin’s lovely flushed cheeks bubble up around the perfect smile on her face. “You want this as much as I do. I can sense it. Don’t worry I will give us what we both want.” 

The blonde’s tongue lays a kitten lick to the bud of her areola then swirls all around making sure to enclose Obi-Wan’s entire nipple in her spit. “Mmmm… Obi-Wan you taste so good.” 

Obi-Wan’s hands clutch now at the wrists of Anakin’s. Needing to exert some control over where Anakin is. Needing to keep her where she is. “Uughh” Obi-Wan huffs, overwhelmed. Her mind seems to be caught in a feedback loop, body turning hot and cold in turns, hair standing up as if wielded by static. 

Moans become an echoing sound between them in the empty room as Anakin takes her time tasting each breast. The younger girl tests and tries out any pattern she can think of. 

“Anakin” Obi-Wan can’t help but sigh her name. Head tilted back trying to comprehend the pleasure. Anakin bites down upon her nipple in response. 

“Anakin!” The older girl wails out.  The bite feels like a lightning bolt. A discharge of electricity shocking her down to the tips of her toes. 

The blue hot flame of Anakin’s eyes burn into her own. She’s caught in her orbit and sinking towards Anakin’s center, her desires, endlessly. 

“I’m going to make sure you and everyone else know that your tits are mine” Anakin begins to bite and suck blood red marks into the delicate skin of Obi-Wan’s chest. Every suck and nibble mingling pain and pleasure. She rubs her thighs together trying to get any stimulation on her aching cunt. 

Anakin seems to instinctively know her issue and changes her position to force her muscled thigh between the redhead’s own. Obi-Wan grinds up into the younger girl’s thigh and keens from how unbelievably good it feels. 

In her delirium, Obi-Wan clenches her eyes shut and  wonders how this turned so quickly. Here she is getting her tits sucked and bitten while howling like a loth-cat in heat. Rubbing up against a tween girl’s thigh. She hasn’t even ever been kissed yet. 

She glances down her chest at Anakin. Her cheeks are flushed , eyelashes fluttering upon her own cheeks and she’s grinding back against Obi-Wan’s thigh. Making insane sucking sounds and whimpering into Obi-Wan’s skin like she has been starved for years. 

The sight and sound brings Obi-Wan’s pleasure higher and higher. She’s so close to completion that the edges of her vision are fading. She’s light headed and hyper focused. The colors that make up Anakin turn vivid, they become her whole world. 

Obi-Wan grinds up for the last time as Anakin bites down on her right tit with enough force to break her skin.  She’s on fire, lit from the inside out, then split down the middle like a tree in a thunderstorm. 

The last thing Obi-Wan hears before the static takes over her senses is the high strung moan of Anakin as she sucks on the taste of blood from her body. 

Coming down from her orgasm, Obi-Wan slowly realizes her eyes are half lidded. Tears she didn’t know she shed are traveling down the sides of her face and into her hair. Her own hands are holding onto Anakin’s head. Caressing the sweaty tufts that are matted to the younger girl’s scalp.

Anakin is softly kissing her chest, and must have felt in the force that Obi-Wan can’t handle much more stimulation. The young girl is still rubbing herself  on Obi-Wan’s thigh. Small moans choked in the depths of her throat. 

Obi-Wan feels changed. She has seen those who have been struck by lightning. She feels so certain that if she were to look at herself in the mirror, under the suck marks and bruises that Anakin gave her, she would see her nerves stained into her skin. Showcasing the pathway of pleasure that Anakin burned into her. 

Anakin pulled back and looked at her handiwork. The mess that she’s made of Obi-Wan’s chest. “Hmmm I was wrong before. Now your tits are the prettiest thing I have ever seen. Covered in bruises and all mine” 

When her gaze locks again with Obi-Wan’s, the blonde’s eyes are still smoldering along with the desire that the redhead can sense from her in the force. Now that her brain is back in her body, she notices the bit of her own blood tinting Anakin’s mouth like lipstick.   

Anakin slides back up Obi-Wan’s body until their faces are centimeters apart. Obi-Wan is unable to tear her gaze away from the glistening lower half of Anakin’s face and the red lips that call to her like a siren. Anakin moves in and kisses Obi-Wan with her eyes open. The kiss is chaste and wet and only lasts a second. Anakin pulls back and licks her lips. “You taste so good everywhere Obi-Wan. Your spit is as sweet as the blood from your skin.” She then moves her hand to open Obi-Wan’s jaw to slip her tongue inside and taste her there too. Anakin glides her tongue everywhere she can reach and Obi-Wan kisses back, tongue out to meet the blonde’s and share the taste of the blood that clings there. 

Anakin sucks her tongue with a thirst that could only come from a girl who spent her formative years on a desert planet. She moans from the taste as Obi-Wan feels lightheaded, stars clouding her mind. The blonde pulls back from the kiss with Obi-Wan’s lower lip between her teeth. Reluctant to part with her, Anakin slowly lets her mouth go while sits back up. 

“Even though I still want to taste you, there’s something I want to do more. Stay where you are Obi-Wan.” Obi-Wan doesn’t think she could stand back up if she tried right now. Her muscles are still weak from the tension they were put through. 

Anakin stands up quickly and lowers her leggings and panties in the span of a few blinks of Obi-Wan’s eyes. She takes a single leg out of the clothing and is too hurried to do more than that as she kneels back down over Obi-Wan’s chest. Obi-Wan can’t help but stare at Anakin’s pussy in front of her. The girl doesn’t even have much pubic hair and her inner labia sticks out more than Obi-Wan’s own. Anakin is pink and wet and her clit is swollen with need. It’s the loveliest and most arousing sight that Obi-Wan has seen. 

“Obi-Wan push your tits together. I want to rub my cunt on your perfect, tight nipples.” Their labored breaths are the only noise surrounding them while Obi-Wan takes her own hands to squish her tits together for Anakin. She can’t deny that she wants this just as much as Anakin. To be wanted, to be owned by this girl who is just too much. This girl fated to bring balance to them all. 

Anakin spreads her thighs farther and lowers herself down to rest her overheated and wet pussy on Obi-Wan’s tits. She rocks back and forth then tilts her head back to moan high and breathy. Obi-Wan has to moan in response to the wetness of Anakin’s desire touching her where she’s so tender and bruised. “You feel so amazing Obi-Wan. So soft and so smooth, fuck.”

Anakin tilts her head back down to watch herself rub her pussy on Obi-Wan’s tits. She’s holding the tops of her robes up just under her own budding chest. The younger girl is whining and moaning with each rocking motion, her padawan braid swinging with her.

When Anakin changes her angle, her clit rubs up against Obi-Wan’s nipple and her moans get higher, louder. She keeps the position and tries to stay there making sure her clit continues its kiss upon Obi-Wan’s peaked nipple. The sight of her own areola completely enveloped by Anakin’s lower lips is almost too much to take. Obi-Wan feels herself ramping up again, wetness gathering in between her legs once more.

Obi-Wan has to look away, getting close to the edge just from the stimulation on her chest and the display of Anakin’s pretty cunt 

She looks up and becomes taken with watching the bunching of the girl's abdominal muscles and she works herself on top of her. Watching the sweat drip down the bumps and valleys of her torso and fall upon Obi-Wan. 

Obi-Wan’s mind gets stuck on how the sweat is another physical reminder of the younger girl’s hunger for her and how it mixes on her chest with Anakin’s slick. Complementing the pinks and purples of bruising that Anakin has painted onto her chest. 

Obi-Wan wants more, wants to drown in Anakin’s passion. Wants so much to taste the desire that is dripping out of Anakin’s body. “Anakin– ughh… let me taste you.” She feels herself flush again over the wantonness of her own words, but Anakin’s full bodied moan takes away most of the shame.

“Oh Obi-Wan, fuuuck. Look at you being a sweet schutta for me. Force, I want to sit on your unbearably pretty face so bad, but I need your tits more.” Anakin clenches her eyes shut and moans at the fantasy that must take place in her head. Her face pinkens and is so gorgeous that Obi-Wan’s senses leave her and she feels herself begging.

“Please, please Anakin. I need to taste you.” Obi-Wan opens her mouth and sticks her tongue slightly out, hoping and wishing that the sight will get her what she is craving. 

“Shit okay okay. Here, I’ll give you the taste you want.” Anakin lets the arm that was holding her tunics up, go loose and takes her fingers to plunge them into herself. Gathering her wetness from the source and taking her glistening fingers back out. 

Obi-Wan whines with her tongue out and her eyelids flutter when Anakin places her two fingers in her mouth. The flavor explodes within her, tasting musky and tart. She closes her mouth and sucks on Anakin’s fingers, not wanting to miss a single bit of the wetness that clings to them.

“Aaah, w-where are the– fuuuck, manners you always get on my ass about? What do you say?” 

“Thalk yew” Obi-Wan garbles out the words over and over with the fingers in her mouth. “Force, you are so perfect Obi-Wan, perfectly made for me.” Anakin takes her fingers and explores the cavern of Obi-Wan’s mouth. Obi-Wan keeps her cheeks hollow and her tongue slurping around the fingers, not wanting them to leave.

“Unngh, open your eyes and look at me Obi-Wan” Anakin keeps grinding on Obi-Wan’s tits and Obi-Wan opens her eyes, not knowing when she had closed them. When the two pairs of blue eyes meet, Anakin moves her unoccupied hand to hold onto Obi-Wan’s throat and then takes her fingers farther into Obi-Wan’s mouth making the elder girl tear up and gag.

“Fuuuuuck!” Anakin screws her eyes shut and comes on top of her. She continues rocking, but moves her fingers out to stop choking Obi-Wan. Obi-Wan suckles upon her hand until it finally leaves her mouth. 

When Anakin comes down from her orgasm, she scoots off backwards from Obi-Wan’s chest and sits backwards in the open V of Obi-Wan’s thighs. Obi-Wan is still breathing hard and finally lets go of her own tits that she had held together for Anakin. She takes an arm and places it over her eyes, unable to really believe what just happened.

“Look at you, you were soaking in your pants.” She swipes a thumb down Obi-Wan’s slit through her leggings. The touch immediately brings a fresh moan from Obi-Wan who is so close to coming a second time. “Oh you want more, don’t you Obi-Wan? Grinding against your tits and sucking my slick got you hot again huh?” 

“Yesss.. please” Obi-Wan’s voice cracks a bit on the words as Anakin places her palm on Obi-Wan’s mound and her thumb unerringly finds the elder girl’s clit. It only takes some slow, dragging circles from Anakin’s thumb for her to come again. Obi-Wan’s thighs close and trap Anakin’s hand in between, trying to keep her from moving away.

Obi-Wan slowly opens her legs as the tingling shocks start to die down. She lies there on the mat heaving and trying to get the stars out of her eyes. When she moves her arm and looks back down to where Anakin is, she notices the girl bringing her thumb to just under her nose and breathing it in deeply. The blonde’s shoulders dropping and head tilting up like she just can’t get enough. She sticks her thumb in her mouth and sucks off any lingering flavor. “Next time.”

Obi-Wan closes her eyes again and whimpers at the thought. She is not sure she will survive this girl who hungers and wants with all the power of the Force behind her. Obi-Wan lets out a sigh and basks in the feeling of satisfaction and ownership ringing out between them in the Force.

[fuckyeahthomaspynchon]

A great shout went up near the doorway, bodies flowed toward a fattish pale young man who’d appeared carrying a leather mailsack over his shoulder.

“Mail call,” people were yelling. Sure enough, it was, just like in the army. The fat kid, looking harassed, climbed up on the bar and started calling names and throwing envelopes into the crowd. Fallopian excused himself and joined the others.

Metzger had taken out a pair of glasses and was squinting through them at the kid on the bar. “He’s wearing a Yoyodyne badge. What do you make of that?”

“Some inter-office mail run,” Oedipa said.

“This time of night?”

“Maybe a late shift?” But Metzger only frowned. “Be back,” Oedipa shrugged, heading for the ladies’ room.

On the latrine wall, among lipsticked obscenities, she noticed the following message, neatly indited in engineering lettering:

“Interested in sophisticated fun? You, hubby, girl friends. The more the merrier. Get in touch with Kirby, through WASTE only. Box 7391. L. A.”

WASTE? Oedipa wondered. Beneath the notice, faintly in pencil, was a symbol she’d never seen before, a loop, triangle and trapezoid, thus:

img_5980

It might be something sexual, but she somehow doubted it. She found a pen in her purse and copied the address and symbol in her memo book, thinking: God, hieroglyphics. When she came out Fallopian was back, and had this funny look on his face.

“You weren’t supposed to see that,” he told them. He had an envelope. Oedipa could see, instead of a postage stamp, the handstruck initials PPS.

“Of course,” said Metzger. “Delivering the mail is a government monopoly. You would be opposed to that.”

Fallopian gave them a wry smile. “It’s not as rebellious as it looks. We use Yoyodyne’s inter-office delivery. On the sly. But it’s hard to find carriers, we have a big turnover. They’re run on a tight schedule, and they get nervous. Security people over at the plant know something’s up. They keep a sharp eye out. De Witt,” pointing at the fat mailman, who was being hauled, twitching, down off the bar and offered drinks he did not want, “he’s the most nervous one we’ve had all year.”

“How extensive is this?” asked Metzger.

“Only inside our San Narciso chapter. They’ve set up pilot projects similar to this in the Washington and I think Dallas chapters. But we’re the only one in California so far. A few of your more affluent type members do wrap their letters around bricks, and then the whole thing in brown paper, and send them Railway Express, but I don’t know . . .”

“A little like copping out,” Metzger sympathized.

“It’s the principle,” Fallopian agreed, sounding defensive. “To keep it up to some kind of a reasonable volume, each member has to send at least one letter a week through the Yoyodyne system. If you don’t, you get fined.” He opened his letter and showed Oedipa and Metzger.

Dear Mike, it said, how are you? Just thought I’d drop you a note. How’s your book coming? Guess that’s all for now. See you at The Scope.

“That’s how it is,” Fallopian confessed bitterly, “most of the time.”

“What book did they mean?” asked Oedipa.

Turned out Fallopian was doing a history of private mail delivery in the U. S., attempting to link the Civil War to the postal reform movement that had begun around 1845. He found it beyond simple coincidence that in of all years 1861 the federal government should have set out on a vigorous suppression of those independent mail routes still surviving the various Acts of ’45, ’47, ’51 and ’55, Acts all designed to drive any private competition into financial ruin. He saw it all as a parable of power, its feeding, growth and systematic abuse, though he didn’t go into it that far with her, that particular night. All Oedipa would remember about him at first, in fact, were his slender build and neat Armenian nose, and a certain affinity of his eyes for green neon.

So began, for Oedipa, the languid, sinister blooming of The Tristero.

[dojae-huh]

not attaching the link but I saw a twt criticizing ty for outshining the mebers with choreo ....comon.. .it's ty..he was born to do that...sometimes I really dont get the fans...

anyway I want to ask about mark..did he ever outshined the members with the choreo?? I mean as an artist I respect and admire him...he works hard..his rap is powerful and also he dance well too...but I never get the feelings that he have an impactful aura in dancing..for me jae has it sometimes , when mark is better than him..u knw what I mean is right...even if he dances he cant take full control over the stage..ty can just stand there and make the whole stage his....even dy who is far from all mebers of 127 in dancing gives me the vibe of a charismatic personality when he performs on stage...ofcrs I knw mark is way better than anyone I mentioned..I am not trying to demeaning him with his skills..but u knw like sometimes his face overpower whatever hairstyle nd colour he is having...with his face I cant notice his hairstyles nd colour..that much power his face can hold..but why there is no an overall impression or the power of stage controll..if he is ur bias or bias of any readers here please dont be offended I am just sharing my thoughts....thankyou...

I think this is a question for those who learn dance.

Personally, I can't name such a case. (Maybe in Dream?) He is very withdrawn in himself when he dances, head low, he is not projecting to the audience. He is more noticeable and commanding as a rapper, he is good with power stances (like in Resonance).

Many people who do dance rankings place him above Taeyong. As I understand, he has clean lines, his movements are sharp, the footwork, and other technical things. But then again, it seems to me (street, hip-hop and other modern genres) dancers respect the control of the body, groove, tricks, difficulty, musicality, creativeness (and Mark can freestyle some). Meanwhile the commonfolk like us are more attracted to stage presence, personal flavour, small details with hands Taeyong does or fluidity of the body, foxy smiles, sexyness Ten shows. Or Doyoung's facial expressions as of late, pointed hand gestures during his solo parts.

Personally, I'm not into dancing as an artform or a kind of sport (something cool to show off). Maybe it's because I'm a zoologist with love for animals, but I'm most captivated with the power in the movement, agility, hand gestures. For that reason I like Chinese traditional dance. And for the same reason I enjoy Jaehyun. Like he shines in the front of the final Resonance line-up. All power and vigor. I will prefer k-pop dances like this one to the type WayV sometime does (with all the unnessesary "story telling" movements).

Mark is very boyish, same as his face, he doesn't really change. In any concept his true self shines through. And a boy is not a king. He lacks gravitas. Remember how many times it took him to do that scene with red revolvers for the Sticker MV? Heh. Mark can do evil, for example (his Super M promos, eh, I miss the group...), but that off stage, before the camera, as an actor.

I guess with dancing it is his eagerness? diligence? I don't know wich word to choose to describe... anyway, "he is doing his best, 100% energy" that what I get from the way Mark dances and performs. There is little room for artisticity. He moves from one move to another without a pause. Taeyong, on the other hand, sprinkles everything with some creations, ideas. A smirk here, a twirl there, a play with fingers or a fleeting facial expression. That's why he draws attention.

As shy as Tae is, on the stage he turns into another being. Mark stays himself.

[euphoricfilter]

hi bub 🎀 how are u? sorry i'm kinda late on replying, i suck at that at times.

i'm glad to hear u had a nice dinner ! was the food pretty good? strawberry milkshakes are always the best 😌♡ but ahhh ! u got wootteo 🥺 i know he's just going to be the cutest in person, happy it worked out (sometimes impulsive buys are the best buys yk 🤷🏽)

oh wow ! i didn't know u were bilingual, that's so cool ! but aw i'm sure u did just fine darling 💓💓 u did ur best n that's okay (and i'm sure waitress didn't even notice or remember even after a second) *hugs* .. tho i do understand ur feelings completely. it can be nerve racking on speaking an entire different language (no matter which way). plus i'm sure the pressure of getting it grammatically correct or the right pronunciation is pretty sucky :/

aw honey i think ur putting too much pressure on urself :( i know it's hard to accept thais in an author's prospective .. but ur human and u can't be 100% all the time yk? i think we all have a "burn out" every blue moon .. and i think that's when we all subconsciously know we're in need of a break or change ur scenery. it' okay 💕 ur pace is ur pace and that's okay. take all the time u need. and you'd never let us or anyone down by setting boundaries or simply saying "no". i promise. ur feelings matter always and deserved to be respected. no worries love :)

aw ur too sweet, ty 💕 i'll keep that in mind and of course vice versa always, jus lmk 💕💕😌 but honestly.. i don't even know what's going on? it's kind of hard to explain but basically i'm on my healing journey rn and learning to embrace having "peace" and i've been doing so well but idk.. these past few weeks .. it's been getting a little hard these past few weeks to embrace it. idk why but it's just .. i've been feeling so sad and lonely and bored ig? and it's like.. i've made so so much progress with my mindset, mental health, confidence, and overall .. and let's just say i was in a veeeeeery dark place lol .. i just don't want to relapse back into who was u know? but at the same time i feel like i'm in a "toxic positivity" state rn and it's just sigh* idk.. it's a lot lmao (as always sorry for the overshare omg 😭 )

- 🎀

i’m good!! you’re okay my love <3 i’m really bad at replying to text messages from people in real life

the food was really good, i don’t think i’ve ever had macaroni bites before but i tried them and it was pretty good. i agree!! strawberry milkshake is the best, i think they made it with ice cream as well

ahh wootteo slept on my pillow above me last night, his head is really fat but he’s a cutie so it’s okay 🧍‍♀️

oo another secret fact about me has been revealed, idk if i’d personally count it as bilingual just because i’m far from fluent but i’ve been learning for a while so i guess i know enough to get around 🥲 i think chinese grammar is easier than korean somehow but maybe that’s because i’ve been learning chinese longer?? idk languages make me wanna pull my hair out 🧍‍♀️and my teacher was.. firm in school so maybe that’s where my language anxiety stems from 🧍‍♀️

i think so too 🥲 i think since taking my gap year, i don’t wanna feel like i’m just wasting my life away when this time was meant to be time i took out for myself because the last couple of years of school killed me. now that i know i’ve gotten into university, i really have nothing else to do. like i’ve done my portfolio, done the application, signed up for everything i need for now, so i’m simply existing trying not to feel like i’m doing nothing with my life before i become a slave to the education system again

ahh i still feel bad, but i guess not much can be done about it, and i can only be grateful that so many people are this understanding!! i think for now i’m probably just gonna start the rewritten version of dtik, since it’s an easy project and takes minimal brain power and then i’ll get back to whatever i have in my inbox when i feel like it

i get that!! i was going so well after graduating considering where i was during the last couple of years and then slowly it all just went downhill 😭 and there was times a night where i just felt so lonely?? and so so so out of it, like i didn’t wanna be awake but i didn’t want to sleep it was a really funky feeling?

anyways, i’m always here if you ever wanna chat 🫶 and just know that i’m really proud of you! and you’re doing so well, and remember you’re super cool and take care of yourself 🫡

(shhh dw about it 💕)

MWAH 💕🫂

[wolfjustdraws]

BACKSTORY TIME

before we get to weirdmageddon because no we aint done yet

For Lockwood’s and jess’s backstory im ofc changing the circumstances of their distance. there’s a lot of underlying implications of abuse in Stan’s and ford’s ‘a tale of two Stan’s’ ep, which I really like in the show, but I don’t believe would have gone down like this for this au. 

Anthony and jess used to get along really well as kids despite the 6 year gap between them - no they’re not twins in this au, but they certainly look like they could be. Same hair, same eyes, same smile, same face, same height; if it hadn’t been for their age gap most people would have assumed they were twins. despite their physical similarities though, they were very different personality wise. 

Jess always took after their parents’ interests, looking to understand all the anomalies and paranormal occurrences of the world, and they were overjoyed by this. They brought her on to their research from a young age, pushing her to excel in her studies and encouraging her to pursue all the unanswered questions of the world and beyond just like they did. 

Their son was much different; no matter how many times they tried to explain their research to him he never really grasped it, he had no drive to understand the complexities of the universe, no curiosity for the bigger questions, and sure his just a child now, but…at his age Jessica was already doing all that and more, so… 

at some point they find out his really into acting and participating in school plays and wooooow, that’s so great son! they’re so proud of u! oh, ur playing the lead? That’s so awesome! See it? Oh well they’d love to but Jessica’s getting awarded that night for her project on advanced thermodynamics, u understand right? They’ll definitely go to the next one! 

Ofc they never meant to make it seem like they weren’t excited for him, they loved him and wanted him to succeed just as much as Jessica! his a good actor! great even! But, well. How hard is it to act, really. 

This unassuming favoritism slowly started to drive a wedge between Anthony and Jessica and his parents. Don’t get him wrong, he loved them all dearly, but he couldn’t help notice how much more excited they were when all her uni offers came pouring in than when he was offered a really good scholarship to one of the best acting schools in the country. jess could have her pick of almost any university in the world, and all she had to do was one outstanding project to seal the deal with the one she chose. 

And like in the series, she makes a project that’s sure to knock the socks off the scouts, and Anthony ruins it. 

He didn’t mean to. It was an accident. He barely touched it. He tried to fix it. 

But it was too late. 

He didn’t wait to see the outcome though. He packed his things and left that night for the acting school he’d been accepted into, avoiding the confrontation and shame that would come with having ruined his sister’s future. He almost wished he’d have stayed though. maybe if he’d stayed he could have explained himself. Maybe if he’d stayed he could have helped his family in the aftermath of his screw up. maybe if he’d stayed he would still be in contact with his family. 

He never called them, and he never received a call from them. Not his parents, and not from Jessica. He couldn’t really blame them though, he wouldn’t want to talk to himself either. So, he threw himself into his studies. He graduates with outstanding performances under his belt and immediately starts landing big roles in movies and series and live shows. 

Anthony is paired up with legendary actors for co-stars and romantic interests, he works under the best directors and producers, he makes powerful connections throughout the industry, he dabbles into directing his own films, he even wins academy awards for his performances. 

He spends so much time working and focusing on his own success he almost forgets about what happened, until he receives a letter from Jess urging him to meet her immediately. 

Anthony doesn’t know what to do. Jessica wants to meet him? After nearly 7 years of no contact? What could she possibly want? Why would she want to see him? What could she need of him that would be so important it convinced her to break her silence? 

Maybe…

Maybe she misses him? Maybe she’s not angry anymore? Maybe he could finally apologize for what he did. 

He drops everything to see her. He races back to London, looking for the address on the letter to finally reconcile with his sister and his parents, to make right what he did so wrong, to gain his family back. 

He found nothing of the sort. The letter led him to a quaint townhouse in central London where he’d find Jessica paranoid and crazed out of her mind, talking about afterlifes and ghosts and paranormal atrocities from multiple inexplainable dimensions incomprehensible to the human mind. She shows him an enormous mechanical contraption in the basement that she claims to be an ‘transdimensional portal’, saying how she and their parents worked on it to finally unravel the mysteries they so sought after for years, and that when they went through it they didn’t come back out. Now she feared they’d opened a gateway to a monstrous being that could destroy their world and she needed him to hide the journal they’d put their research in, to keep humanity safe. 

Anthony is pissed. 

Years of silence and cold shoulders, of suppressing his guilt and his shame, of working hard to make something of himself and one day be able to face them and give them something back after he took so much away, and they weren’t there to receive it. They never missed a beat. They continued their research and they kept being a family - the perfect family of curious geniuses with scholarly futures and Nobel-worthy discoveries. Had they even missed him? 

He curses Jess out and she finally calls him out for what he did to her project all those years ago. A fight ensues between them in the basement and the portal is turned on, and after pushing Jess back Anthony watches in horror as she steps into the danger zone and gets sucked into the portal before it turns off, leaving behind only the journal. 

He spends all day and night trying to turn it on once more, to let her back in through, to actually apologize and repent for his mistakes, but it’s too late. She’s gone. Once more, his ruined his sister’s life out of anger. Hatred, guilt and desperation consume him for weeks as he reads the journal cover to cover and every other bit of research he can find in the house in search for answers and understands nothing of it. None of it makes sense to him. He can’t find a single thing on there to help him bring her back. 

Finally he finds himself with no other option than to go out for food and finds a small convenience store on the corner of the street. The people there - all neighbors he presumes - begin asking him all sorts of questions; who is he? Is he new to the neighborhood? When did he move in? What does he do for a living? Why does he look so much like that one famous actor? Does he know that other person that just moved in a few months ago into house 35? No one’s seen them at all, isn’t that odd? What was their name, Jess something-something? 

Anthony realizes none of this people actually ever met his parents and sister, no wonder none of them hadn’t noticed them missing and gone to check on the house. but then again, his sister was never the social type. He realized he couldn’t let them find out she was gone. He couldn’t let anyone find out, if they did they’d come get her things - the research, the journal, the portal would all be taken away and he’d never be able to get her back. He couldn’t let them find out about Jessica. 

So he lied. Actually he was the person who moved into the 35th. His name was Jesse. Jesse Lockwood. And yes he does look like that one famous actor; they’re twin brothers. Estranged for many years. Its complicated. What does he do for a living, he…his opening a curio shop. Right there out of the house. His selling all sorts of strange and paranormal knickknacks once it opens. That’s why they haven’t met him yet, his been- stuck with paperwork. Damn bureaucracy. 

Thus, with his hastily made up story, Anthony said goodbye to his life. He had all the necessary paperwork made for Jesse Lockwood to exist, put all his possessions and money in an account where his new identity would be the sole beneficiary as part of an elaborate plan for his transition; Anthony Lockwood, beloved actor and director suffers through an embarrassingly rough patch in his career that dries out his job offers, gambling scandals appear on the news that tarnish his reputation, and finally he stages a terrible car crash. Anthony Lockwood was gone.

Jesse Lockwood was born. Perhaps it was a bit too much to go to this lengths, but what can he say, the actor inside him has always been dramatic and he couldn’t go out without giving the performance of a lifetime. Now, he had a whole new performance to sell. 

Years passed and he made a relative success of ‘Lockwood’s Vintage Parlour’. His become a part of the community of Portland Row, met his neighbors and socialized, in their eyes his a regular guy just making a living from his home, yet his secretly been working on reopening the portal. 

He taught himself everything he needed to know to understand his parent’s research, spending nights awake struggling to comprehend the complex and advanced theorems they referenced and all the scientific jargon, but he pushed through. He wouldn’t give up. He couldn’t give up. He’d ruined his sister’s life twice, it was only fair he sacrificed his to bring her back and make right with her. 

However, just as his getting close to cracking the whole thing open, he finds himself in need to bring in help to the shop. If he were able to be away from the shop more often he could devote more time to his endeavor, but he couldn’t let go of the shop, it is the only thing giving his story any credibility. 

So, he puts in an ad on the paper offering accommodation and services in exchange for working hands to aid his store, and only two people answer his ad.

George Karim-Cubbins, an unorthodox scholar who just recently lost his job at the university he taught and researched at after bailing on several of his own classes for the sake of his research. After failing to find a job in the following weeks he finds himself late on his rent and must find a new place to live in quick. 

Lucy Carlyle, elementary school art teacher who’s looking for a place to stay so she can move out of her mother’s house with whom she’d been living with since catching her long time boyfriend cheating on her. 

They each find the ad and decide its better than their current living arrangement and lease a room in 35 Portland Row in exchange for helping with the curio shop - cleaning, putting out inventory, working the till, etc, for their eccentric and secretive landlord, Jesse Lockwood. 

The man asks them little about themselves; his not interested in what they do outside the house nor what they work on as long as they complete their hours at the shop, he has no rules about shared spaces so long as they don’t go into that one room on the landing, or rules about what they can or cannot put up in their rooms, or rules about having guests over so long as they make sure they at least look through the shop’s inventory in case they wanna buy something. 

And the shop…sure, curio shops are supposed to have strange items for sale with ridiculously intricate backstories and origins, but some of the stock is just down right uncanny. Rows of books on subjects such as inter dimensional life forms, theories of the afterlife and beyond, all sorts of dissertations on multiple religious and sacrilegious topics, broken contraptions with seemingly no function and apparatuses that never stop moving, displays of creatures that would seem impossible…where does one begin to get this stuff? 

He is friendly enough though; he seems interested whenever they do share about their lives, he seems worried for them if they’re late for their shift, he’ll sit with them for a cup of tea in the mornings, he might even share tiny tidbits of himself and his life here and there.

Guess only time will tell how their stay at 35 Portland Row will go.

...gravity falls au where lucy and george are living-working in this old house in london where this charismatic and mysterious guy named Lockwood runs a semi successful curio shop

shenanigans happen, they become friends before Lockwood reveals the shop is nothing more than a cover up for him to build back a strange portal in a hidden room in the house, one that took his sister and his parents many years ago