#i am way too tired to figure out whether i used the possessive it right. but i can figure that out tomorrow

[sethelliott]

Friday

It is homecoming weekend. Downtown Boulder is overrun. The energy is contagious, and yet I am drinking a “fall chamomile tea” at a bookstore after telling the barista I knew nothing about tea but wanted to drink some that didn’t have caffeine. It smells like a tree, and Big Red gum, and is delicious, and, I have been assured, hard to burn.

The very young couple to my right at the taco restaurant resorted to tic tac toe rather than fight to make themselves heard over the din. At the bookstore, a young Indian man is involved in an animated game of chess with a very old man with a narrow face, a bright red scarf, and a beautiful smile. I hope he is British.

Out back is a courtyard, with its curling vines and obligatory strings of lights. There is live music, which I don’t particularly enjoy — they seem very angry — but am glad is happening, suitably muffled by a bright yellow and very heavy door. It’s not wood, but I wish it was. Someone just opened that door and several patrons visibly gasped and jumped at the sudden blast of snare. There are many things I am overly reactive to, but this was not one of them.

The yellow door feels like a gift. It lets through enough music so that all the couples and trios and quartets must raise their voices, but not so much that they retreat to tic tac toe. I can flit between all their conversations without intruding on any of them. The first date to my left is going badly, but I can’t tell whether the man knows this or not. He should lean in some, ask more questions — I am sure his date is more interesting than bouldering, yet that’s all he has to talk about these couple minutes. To my right: enthusiasm for chocolate chip cookies, a sense of loss at too much time at church in years past, and a robust recommendation for potatoes, fingerlings roasted with just oil and salt, he says. Across the way, a gay couple are endlessly tender with one another in that perfect way where no one could be uncomfortable observing and no one could misunderstand how important they are to each other.

I haven’t written like this in years — since before Colorado? — but it feels refreshing, to observe such that you can articulate.

The floor is hardwood and it is very old and the color is all wrong but the sound is exactly the same as the childhood white oak at 310 Scott Street that I will never step on again and do not miss, but if that’s true why am I now crying as I write?

I haven’t interacted with anyone in the bookstore since the barista and, tonight, I don’t really want to. I am happy to observe pieces of these people’s lives, rather than try to be one of the pieces. I am profoundly tired and not in possession of my usual wit or charm and anyways why should I inject myself into the interactions of these happy strangers? Today that sounds selfish, perhaps because I feel more at peace today and yesterday and the day before than I have for most of the year.

It’s been a reflective hour here, not the quiet hour I expected of learning more of the cowboys who are profoundly unhappy and don’t know why or what to do about it or why they feel obligated to live in a certain way so contrary to the few desires they are able to put words to.

Perfect timing. The silt of the cassia starts peeking through tepid tea as the owner shouts “iiiit’s Friday! We close at 9! 10 minutes!” and the baristas make their rounds of square tables, collecting tea pots and what used to be containers of hot chocolate and are now just containers.

This wasn’t the evening I left home wanting — I haven’t read a page or figured out my family’s housing for Thanksgiving or replied to that one work email or my brother’s heart felt reflections on parenthood as March draws nearer. But I’m glad I had it, observing and writing instead of putting in my headphones and forcing the night to look like I thought it might when I left. And I will be back, for more of this contagious energy.

[theprincipleofescalation]

And you are walking down the road in the dead of night on the way home from work and a man offers you a ride and you refuse and aren't worried about the consequences because you are not a woman you are not a girl you are the eldest you are the first born son for all that your body does not agree with that.

And you know the terrible things happen to girls and women in the dark on the back roads at night and in alleys and you know that there's always a risk that could one day be you but it never seems real because as long as you could remember you were not ever just a girl. And this this is just the tip of the iceberg. And you wonder if anyone else has ever felt this way.

And you are fatherless and you are motherless and yet you have a father and a mother. And you have spent half a lifetime it feels like standing between your mother and your father and your brother making peace in a peaceless place, and honesty is a currency from another land that has no value where you live.

And you are 14 going on 15 and your mother is in the car with you on your way to church telling you how your uncle used to come home drunk and put his fist through the wall as grandma and grandpa watched as grandma fretted and yelled as Grandpa turned a blind eye, and you are 10 going on 11 and you have questions about how babies are made and you know you can't ask either of your parents so you asked the internet and you find things that you should not have been able to find given how young you were, and you are seven going on eight going on nine and you are watching TV unsupervised and you are watching bad things being done to people by other people because your mother is exhausted and your father is out looking for a job and your grandparents are asleep and your brother is playing with his Legos and the TV was the easiest way to distract a child with nothing else to do and no one else to do it with. And you are 13 going on 14 and you take eight sleeping pills with a shot of whiskey stolen from the family bottle and you lie on your bed trying to remember how to breathe and you are afraid, you are alone, and you are afraid not that you are going to die but that your mother is going to come in and she's going to yell at you. (That's why you took the pills in the first place, because you could not take the tension of waiting for her to scream again.) And you are aping maturity from figures on television and online and in books that you do not actually possess, and your parents tell you stories and confide in you and your parents' friends tell you stories and confide in you about their pasts and their troubles and their trauma and look to you for advice, and you look for answers in books and shows and you know all the right words and all the right terms and it works well enough for them and you're too busy trying to stay afloat to wonder whether you're doing more harm than good. And you are a teenager and you are three steps from a midlife crisis.

And you spend two years of your life at a small 2-year college getting an associate's degree racking up 78 credits in the process and at your graduation the first one you've ever attended in your homeschooled life and your father looks at you and tells you not to get too excited it's just an associate's degree, and how he meant it means less to you than the words said. And you are 20 and you are more tired than you have ever been, and supposedly your life is just beginning.

And your father is not your father but he is and you do not know him for all he lives in the same house as yo. it's not his fault it's the world we live in the culture we live in, the fact that your father had to work so that you would be taken care of but that doesn't change the fact that you don't know him and that you look at him and you wonder what am I to you what do you see when you look at me. And you love them you do love them and you would tear this throat out of anyone who claims otherwise but you do not know whether that is enough.

And you are 18 going on 19 and your mother calls you to look at your brother's writing assignment and tells you how impressive it is that he actually managed to do so so well when he put his mind to it, and you are so proud of him. And you are so envious of him. Because for the longest time that was what you were you were the one who could write and write and write and he was the one with all the answers to all the math problems and suddenly you and he are an equal footing in that ground. And you love your brother and if you would lie to protect him and you would lie to help him and you would stand between him and your mother and her directionless anger and you still would. But now it's a competition and it's one he does not know of and it's one that you cannot win. Because he has a way with computers and now he has a way with words and he's so so smart and you are so proud of him. But. But. But. But but for so long you were the eldest the first born son the only daughter. And for all you've done for all you stood in the midst of you have a creeping feeling that in spite of all of it there is something less about you then there will ever be with him and you have a feeling, for all that you're sure it would be denied if you were to voice it that the fact of the matter is you are not the eldest son for all that you do not know what it's like not to feel like it.

And you are 21 and you are alone and you are laying on your floor talking to your phone, the only therapy that you will ever be able to have, because if you actually went to therapy that would be admitting you have issues that would be admitting that there was something that caused the issues that will leave your mother feeling as though she were the bad guy and you father confused that there was ever anything wrong in the first place and your brother in some no man's land of a middle ground and you have been so tired for so long but it is honestly not worth fighting this battle. And you are the eldest daughter and the firstborn son and you are 21 lying on the floor of your room talking to your phone.

[thecollectionsof]

hehe :)

crygi with “did you steal my chocolate bar?”

“Did you steal my chocolate bar?” Gigi is startled out of its single-minded focus on its latest design by the signature whine of a Crystal who’s been denied something, and it can already picture the pout that it knows will be present on her face.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” it’s quick to brush off the accusation, but it can’t help the smirk from making its way onto its face. It schools its expression before turning around to look at its girlfriend. 

Unfortunately for Gigi, Crystal’s eyes look to its desk.

“Gigi! I can see the wrapper next to you, you traitor!” Crystal comes to the desk and snatches the wrapper off of the desk before turning to it with a pout—the very same pout it predicted she'd be wearing at the start of the conversation.

“Okay, yeah, I ate it. We can go get another one at the store if you want?” Gigi asks, and Crystal lights up at the suggestion. “I should take a break now, anyways.”

Crystal’s pout disappears, and she holds out a hand for Gigi to take, pulling it out of its chair and towards the door. “Come on, Geege, let’s go!”

[hunxi-after-hours]

《烈火浇愁》: a crash course

by priest

Summary:

When Xuan Ji is called upon to thwart a demon summoning on his first day at his new job, he begins to suspect that there’s more to this whole Bureau for Supernatural Affairs than he was led to believe. Look, all he wanted was an easy way to pay off his credit card debt, lao Xiao!

Meanwhile, someone has rudely roused Sheng Lingyuan—better known as Sheng Xiao, the unspeakably powerful warrior-emperor of ancient history—from his grave. A dark conspiracy threatens to reignite the Chiyuan, the volcanic source of all magic in the world, and Sheng Lingyuan must seal the Chiyuan once more before he can return to his eternal rest.

Forcibly dragged into the modern world, Sheng Lingyuan grudgingly partners with Xuan Ji to face the coming storm. As ancient demons reawaken, more and more questions emerge: who is trying to reignite the Chiyuan? Why can’t Xuan Ji remember anything before ten years ago? And exactly how much did the history books get wrong about Sheng Lingyuan?

When past and present, legends and lies, swords and spirits collide, even raging fires might not be enough to drown centuries of hidden sorrows.

random bullet point thoughts, in no particular order:

genre-wise I’d slide this title right into the intersection of horror/dark fantasy, urban fantasy, and, uh (squints at notes) time travel? huh I guess that happened

I am speaking as a Cosmere fan when I say that I understood, optimistically, maybe 65% of the worldbuilding

the first arc of this novel is Straight Fire. the way I yelled when Sheng Lingyuan Did That

I live for Xiao Zheng and Xuan Ji’s dynamic. “If you can talk seriously for a minute I’ll give you 100 kuai” is iconic comedy gold

the way priest handles Sheng Lingyuan dealing with modernity is simultaneously Not What You’d Expect but also Exactly What You Want

never forget Sheng Lingyuan arriving late to a fight scene because he couldn’t figure out how the elevator worked and had to resort to blasting his way through the parking structure. the man may not know Arabic numerals but he is in possession of ungodly magical abilities and is more than willing to use them

the donghua is Extremely Good and I’m not exaggerating in the slightest when I say I was animation baited into reading this 783k+ word novel. also the music is absolutely stunning

I feel like I should say something about the angst in this novel but I don’t even know where to begin. it’s like. mind-bending. heart-rending. world-ending. cosmic. comedic. disgustingly sappy. utterly shameless. bafflingly devastating

for the love of all that is good and holy I would ask someone to smash their dense heads together except there’s been literally decades worth of telepathy between these two and they STILL haven’t figured their shit out

priest really said “if you haven’t lovingly nurtured your soulmate in your spine for fifteen to three thousand years you’re not worthy of being called soulmates” and “nothing is sexier than your spiritual weapon” and “birds are vain therefore winged people are as well” and “backstabbing can be a love language too”

uhhhh I feel like the sheer quantity of war crimes and human sacrifice should get its own bullet point so here it is

no really a great deal of the novel’s thematic focus is “What Measure is a Non-Human,” what it means for a person to be forged into a weapon and what it takes for a weapon to become a person, whether it’s possible to rediscover happiness/one’s humanity despite the war crimes that you have committed and have been committed upon you, the paper-thin line between heroism and monstrosity, and the question of what—or who—you would set the world on fire for

please let Sheng Lingyuan rest. yes I am aware he is a war criminal yes I am aware that he physically does not need to sleep but consider: the man is so tired

[dorimena]

𝕻𝖗𝖊𝖙𝖙𝖞 𝖕𝖙.𝟏

𝔠𝔥𝔞𝔯𝔞𝔠𝔱𝔢𝔯; monoma neito

𝔴𝔬𝔯𝔡 𝔠𝔬𝔲𝔫𝔱; 5.1k of filth,

𝔴𝔞𝔯𝔫𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔰; nsfw, Overstimulation, edging, dacryphilia, degradation/humilliation, cursing, cockwarming, crossdressing, school girl kink (?), mommy kink, pegging, cum play+eating, dom!fem reader, sub!character

𝔬𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔯 𝔱𝔞𝔤𝔰; whiney Monoma, loud sex, Monoma in a skirt, soundproof dorms, mentions of other 1B characters, aged-up character, Monoma is 18 in this

𝔰𝔦𝔡𝔢 𝔫𝔬𝔱𝔢; this was meant to just be some long fic, but I find it easier to just divide it into 2 parts while I figure out how to write out the scene I actually wanted to get to. I got carried away. This is what I've been doing during holy week. My religious school would be ashamed of me. This has been proofread, but if there are still any mistakes, I apologize.

𝔭𝔞𝔯𝔱 𝔦𝔦.; incomplete/in progress.

Monoma had a shit week.

It all started on Monday when his school pants ripped conveniently from the back as he bent down to pick up his fallen notebook. They didn’t even look like they would rip! So how did they...? All he could hear during his inner turmoil and growing embarrassment were murmurs of pity, whispers of curiosity, and his homeroom teacher calling his name countless times to send him back to the dorms to change. Permission slip in hand and underwear out, he silently nodded and made his out, all while ignoring a burning sensation in his eyes and sudden dryness in his throat.

(Walking out the doors with his blazer tied around his waist, he swore he heard a familiar giggle and mockery coming from a smart-mouthed girl.)

Tuesday came bulldozing so suddenly that it ran over him. Well, really it was Yaoyorozu’s canon that almost ran him over. 

The day, in general, was normal, none of his classmates made comments about the minor incident the day before, well, except for Y/N who asked if he sent his pants to be fixed or not. (He didn’t, so she demanded him to hand it over to her.) He didn’t go back to the dorms after their last class, since he has to carry out classroom cleaning duties after he accidentally pushed Bakugou into the mud last week. No, seriously, it was an accident. First off, he didn’t see the mud. Second off, he was messing around with Kaibara’s quirk, which spooked Nirengeki who was somehow walking close by to the hot-headed explosion man- and… well, Monoma mistook Bakugou for Honenuki. For some odd reason. How insulting to his intelligence and great memory skills.

So after such a tiring task of brooming, wiping, dusting, and inspecting, he expected to be knocked off his feet with whatever Kendo decided to cook for dinner, not Yaoyorozu’s canon. God, and he shrieked! Who fucking shrieks?! He’s 18, he’s not supposed to shriek! Unless you’re pegging him just right-  

Wednesday only sucked because you canceled your biweekly study session in favor of hanging out with the girls in 3A. Now, regardless of what people still say, he has matured and slowly grew out his competitiveness and “jealousy” over class A, and doesn’t really have much issue with most of them (mainly because Shinsou somehow helped him become more “friendly”). However, how dare you choose the girls over him! You’ve never done that. 

(And whether or not he was moody and pouty is just a hallucination of yours, he swears it.)

The only bad thing, if you could even call it that, that happened on Thursday was that it slipped his mind how much time he had left to use Tsuburaba’s quirk and lost against his good ol’ pal. 

Friday though… Friday was just really weird and he hated how it only felt weird for him. Maybe it’s pent up frustration with how the week went? Maybe it’s the pouty baby in him still being butthurt over Wednesday’s missed study date? Maybe it’s you staring at his legs and ass? Maybe it’s the way you look so delectable in your hero outfit? Maybe- well, now he was just overthinking it, and he rarely ever does! He was tempted on asking Shinsou to, y’know, brainwash him so he could forget this weird feeling of him feeling weird.

Now comes Saturday. 

Today is Saturday.

Today is 10:06 pm on a Saturday.

You’re over at his dorm for the already mentioned biweekly study date. He should feel happy, considering you brought over some snacks, ordered take-out from his favorite French restaurant, even played with his hair every time you guys had the 15-minute study break. 

But he’s not happy.  He’s not unhappy, but he isn’t happy? Again, the weird feeling he felt the day before hasn’t really left and it’s been crawling around his skin, only getting worse when he saw you coming in with pants. 

It’s not supposed to make him feel not happy, but you usually come over with a cute skirt or dress, showing enough of your thighs and panties to keep him up at night, fantasizing about them wrapped around his head, suffocating him as he eats you out so delicately or ferociously, littered with his desperate bites and kisses, making him whine out in horny pain-

“Monoma?” you asked, eyebrows furrowed in worry as you ditch your phone to look over at your whining boyfriend. “You okay there?”

Shit. He must’ve gotten lost in his thoughts. “Yes, I am perfectly fine, darling.”

Now that’s weird. He’s speaking so softly, and he only ever does that after he’s cum at least a few times, or when he’s totally relaxed and ready to call it a night. Well, there are those few times where he lies and he speaks about the same.

Humming, you smile sweetly at him. 

“Are you sure about that, baby boy?”

Oh, that sent a shudder through his body, his white shirt suddenly feeling too thick and his shorts feeling a bit constricting. In other words, he’s now turned on.

He stays quiet, however, because he feels like his voice will give away his actual feelings, whether it continues being soft or it decides to crack and show how he’s ready to give himself away to you.

“Neito. I asked you a question.”

“No, mommy! I-I mean, I don’t know…” He huffed out, embarrassment now outweighing his neediness. God, why did you have to pull out the mommy card?! You’re so wicked. Did you not know how horrible his week was and now you want to be mean to him?

“What do you mean by that, baby?”

“Well, I’ve had a horrible week, mommy! You should know that!” 

“Don’t dare yell at me, Neito. Mommy’s trying to be patient and understanding, but if you’re going to just be a brat, then I should just leave you in time out, right?” Monoma gawked, his whole body and attention turned towards you as you got off of his bed, arms crossed and disappointment showing on your face. Really? You’re disappointed? Just as he opened his mouth to talk back, you spoke first.

“And here I brought one last gift for you. I’m here trying to be such a caring, doting girlfriend, and you start making assumptions about my efforts? Bad boy!”

Wait, gift? These were gifts? Oh! You… you were trying to comfort him? God, guess he was a bad boy. 

Seeing him deflate, eyes losing whatever snark they possessed, you sigh and walk towards your bag near the door. And this made him stand up so quickly he lost his footing and slightly fell forward, shocked that you could be leaving already, which you aren’t. Startled by his sudden movement, you quickly take out a plastic bag and hold it in front of him to show the last gift. 

It was quiet between you two, staring at each other before looking down at what you are holding. 

“What is that?” He’s the first to speak, blinking as he tries to figure out what the dark blue item could possibly be. It’s pleated, though, so-

“Is it the skirt you’ll change into?” And you laugh, shaking your head as you walk back to the bed and sit. 

“Not me, baby. You will change into it.” He’s going to be wearing a skirt? 

Blinking once more in confusion, he giggles awkwardly before frowning. 

“You’re joking, right?” Now it’s your turn to frown.

“No.” And you smile confidently. “I promise, if you wear the outfit in here, it’ll lead us to the actual last gift, hm?” You bat your eyelashes like a little girl asking her dad for a new Barbie doll, or whatever it is they bat their eyelashes for. You’re curious to see what he’ll do.

And you didn’t have to wait long for his decision to be made.

Sitting on your naked lap, thighs trembling in either overexertion or overstimulation, is a certain sweaty, defiled blond male with gorgeous teary, periwinkle eyes trying their best to focus down on you. 

After he swiftly and elegantly changed into the outfit, it came to show on his mirror that this wasn’t some random crop top and skirt combo, but a whole schoolgirl uniform: apart from a cropped school girl top and the pleated navy skirt, there were white thigh highs and cute hair clips. 

Turns out, you misunderstood his ‘subtle’ hints of some kinky schoolgirl skirt sex; you thought he was offering, with the way he’d bat his pretty eyelashes at you and stare at your skirt during lunch. Really, he was implying you stay with it on, somehow. 

Regardless of who was wrong, the fact your pretty boy is squirming uncontrollably with your strap-on deep inside him is something you just have to engrave in your mind. Who knows when you’ll be able to buy another skirt his size? You can’t wait to render it useless.

“Y-You’ve been thin-thinking for too-oo long!” Monoma whines, bringing a hand to wipe away his bothersome tears he doesn’t want you to see, huffing at the end before moaning loudly as you roll your hips upwards, the tip of the dildo teasing his sweet spot.

“Mm, I didn’t say you can speak yet, did I? Guess mommy spoiled you too much.” Sneering, you shift on the bedsheets under you while placing your hands on his thighs, slowly raking your nails upwards. You try your best to avoid the white thigh-high socks, not wanting to make him ticklish and forget why you’re even touching him there. 

Monoma shakingly gasps, squirming even more as he tries to have his pathetic, precum weeping dick grab the attention of either one of your hands but ends up staining the clothing covering it. Rolling your eyes, you smack the hairless skin hard enough to watch it quickly flush red and hear him groan, whether in pain, arousal or both.

“Stop it. You’re making me angry with how selfish you’re being. Isn’t mommy supposed to be satisfied first? Or did you forget our rules, baby?” 

“N-no! No! No, I- no!” Is whining all that he can do? He’s been whining or moaning for the past hour, with the occasional groans or gasps. You don’t want him to only whine, you need to see him cry. 

Cry prettily as he did on Monday when he thought no one was looking back at the dorms.  Watch him struggle to keep his whimpers of humiliation at bay. Make him forget all about his silly pride and stupid competitiveness against a class who doesn’t really see him as a threat, but just a crazy motherfucker (or so says Hagakure.)

“No what, Neito? ‘No mommy! I do know the rules!’ or ‘No mommy! I forgot the rules!’ C’mon, baby. I thought you knew how to speak properly? Now you’re making Bakugou seem eloquent.”

Oh no, you’re upset at him. Monoma gasps in offense, though, at the implication that the anger and pride-driven Bakugou is better than him at speaking. Ouch, okay, that actually kind of hurt but it was kinda hot? Kinda not? What’s wrong with him?

Yeah, what’s wrong with him? You’re expecting him to go on with his speech of how Bakugou isn’t anywhere near his expertise and social skills, how he’s clearly more coherent than the other, or the typical ‘how dare you’ sentences. What you didn’t expect was him to whimper and clasp his hands together as if asking for forgiveness so soon.

“No mo-mommy! I do know! Th-The rules, th-that is! I know ‘em!” 

“Then you’ll stop moving so much and let mommy continue marking you? If you do, and I’ll be repeating this for the last time, Neito, mommy might let you cum first, mm? Sounds good?”

“Ye-ES!” Okay, maybe you should’ve waited until he answered to land another slap on his thighs, although this one was close to his dick. Oh well, at least he’s making other sounds, but no struggle or tears. 

Leaving nail marks around the pale, smooth skin, even carving your name on both thighs with light scratches, you’re in awe at how he’s trying not to move too much. Then again, he is your sweet baby boy, who thrives and gets off of making you proud of him and cumming because of him. 

Lifting your eyes from the satisfying reddening skin to his face, you’re struck with awe again: finally, as if some god were listening to your wishes, you see him blinking rapidly as a new batch of tears quickly accumulate on his lashline and slowly trickle down his red cheeks before being furiously wiped away by him. Seems like this has been going on for a bit, seeing how his eyes are slightly red and his hands, clasped back together, if not tighter, look kind of wet. He didn’t want you to know he was trying not to cry and then failed so beautifully.

Gosh, and here you were expecting him to be a brat, to defy your authority over him, to challenge you like he usually does. 

(If only you had some mind-reading quirk, you would’ve known he actually had been planning his next moves.)

“Good job, baby! You let mommy mark you so pretty with her hands, and look! Mommy’s name is on your thighs, so that next time you touch yourself you won’t forget who you belong to- I mean, who you’re a baby boy for.” 

You’re basking in happiness, in pride, in complete bliss while he thanks you in small whimpers, hips twitching and hole clenching around your strap. Right, you forgot how long he has been cockwarming you; guess he deserves an even better award. He never manages to hold back for so long when sitting on your silicone cock.

Rubbing your palms around his thighs without moving your stare from his face, you command him to put his hands to use and lift the hem of the skirt, getting a good show of a new dribble of precum dropping heavily onto your pelvis. His dick is even shaking just as much as his body, pulsing even more than any other past encounter. It’s also competing against Kirishima’s red hair for the title of the “most red thing ever to exist”. 

Monoma’s opening and closing his mouth, eyebrows furrowed in question and silent begging.

“You can speak now.”

“M-Mommy, you pro-hah-mised t-to make hn-me cu-um!”

“...Watch that tone, little boy.” You glowered before continuing. “Remind mommy what she promised you and explain why you deserve it.”

Now you’re being unfair again and Monoma doesn’t want to deal with how you’re suddenly trying to milk out his responses to the way you want. Crossing his arms and glaring down at you, he mutters, “Wh-why should I? Did y-you forget?” 

Humming, you move your hands to his hips, rubbing your thumb on the cheap material covering them before beginning to lift him off, at least trying to. “Guess mommy should go back to her room since her baby boy decided to be a little bitch.”

“No!” That’s startling on both your ends hearing such a loud, anguished tone come out of him. Bottom lip trembling and quickly putting his hands to grip tightly at the skirt, Monoma holds back a sob. 

“I’m so-sorry, mommy! ‘m not a-a, um, little b-bitch. I’m sorry.” Ending with a whisper, he slowly puts all of his body weight down on your lap, wanting to keep you there and make it impossible to lift him off, and hangs his head in defeat. (Really, it’s because of shame, but you’ll never hear that from him.)

Do you not realize how hard he’s shaking? He can feel his heartbeat in his ears and hear it from his brain. He’s all sweaty and flushed red, his pupils dilate every time you look deep into them. He’s seen the way your eyes light up when glancing at his weeping dick, and he loves how wet it looks, it feels, it sounds, whenever he shifts. 

Most importantly, other than his neglected manhood slowly turning a shade of purple, his prostate has been teased for so long that he just wants to ride you hard enough to find bruises tomorrow and hypothetically ‘destroy your cock’.

“If you’re sorry, you’ll tell me what I want to hear. I’m not going to repeat what I asked for.”

Gulping to ease down the shame building up in his body, he lifts his head enough to catch your gaze before softly responding. 

“Mommy, um, promised I-I get to cum… she’ll m-make me cum if I-I stopped movin’ s’ much.” Goddamn it, Monoma, get yourself together! “I d-deserve this be-because I stopped. Was a g-good ba-um, baby boy.” He loves hates it when you make him do this, even if not often.

Satisfied with the answer you’ll probably only ever hear once and as clear as possible, you nod your head. 

“Then fuck yourself on my cock, Neito.”

No need to repeat yourself. Every little noise he tried so hard to hold back, every twitch and shudder he tried so hard to subdue, every twist of his face to show off the agonizing pleasure is quickly overcoming his insides and dick.

He’s whimpering so loudly, so shamelessly, as he bounces greedily on your lap. Loud and wet skin slapping against each other, and you at first thought, through every lost huff of air, that it’d be his ass connecting to your lube-covered thighs. Instead, your eyes shift towards his crying cock, the way spurts and spurts of precum are left on your lower abdomen, how this furiously blushing extremity keeps slapping itself onto you with every one of his desperate bounces. It’s even wetter than moments ago, you would’ve thought it’d be lube.

Monoma opens his eyes, which seemed to have closed at some point, and looks down at your face, huffing out airy whines of ‘what’, not knowing what you’re looking at. His dick has been wet with his precum for the past hour, so what could be new?

Until he looks down at himself and is mesmerized with how his dick, heavy with unreleased cum and flushed with blood, is tainting and slapping against your beautiful skin with his horny juice- wait, how stupid is he to refer to his precum as ‘horny juice?’ 

Stupid enough to forget to close his mouth and make his built up drool mix in with the mess below, his whimpers and whiny moans turning into high-pitched cries of your name and loud moans, a normal person would worry about their neighbors. The more he stares at himself, the louder he gets and the sloppier his hips gyrate.

Until he suddenly feels the tip of the toy punch against his prostate. 

“Ahn! AGAIN! A-aga-again! Nngain!” Monoma screams, eyes crossing and welling up with old and new built-up tears, ready to drip down. He’s gripping and pulling the hem of his skirt in all directions, his hands never staying still even when a light rip could be heard upon a harsh pull. He recreates the same move, thighs quivering and tensing, begging to be closed. Each accurate hit to his sensitive spot forces out a louder cry and threatens his tears to let loose. 

His movements get sloppier and lazier. Seems like he’s tiring out, which isn’t good. Sure, you’re hoping to make him cry with pretty tears and ugly sobs, but you were also hoping to make him do so repeatedly. Then again, if he’s tired out, there wouldn't be much fight or snark from him and maybe you can still make him cry freely. 

Good thing you know how to execute fantastic sneak attacks against him.

Under the pillow where your head is situated, you reach for a not-so-small device that kind of looks like a walkie-talkie. Monoma sees this when trying to focus his sight, tensing up at the thought that maybe you were recording this for some benefit or blackmail. But why would you want to blackmail your own boyfriend? Had he done something not to your liking?

The answer came in the form of loud buzzing and sudden quaking starting from deep inside him. 

“Wh-wh-wha-what is- hnngh, st-sto-op!”  Monoma wails out, almost falling onto your body with how powerful the vibrations are churning hot inside of him. His vision is getting blurry, blocked by the tears that finally, finally are let go and kiss his cheeks with every hot trail left behind. 

“You, oh, want me to stop?” He can kind of see your wicked grin, the mockery in your tone and amusement oozing out making him let even more tears fall. Why would you want to stop? 

“St-sto-op?! No? N-no! No! P-pluh-plea- nnnghh!” 

Ah, so he’s gone dumb. He doesn’t realize he said to stop. Well, now you can either continue watching him break on your lap and admire the waterfall of precum and fresh tears and make him continue working for his orgasm; or, you can tease him some more while turning up the intensity of the toy, now that it’s pleasuring you for once. The way it tickles your clit is enough to make your panting much more noticeable and thighs tense. You wonder how a setting at 4 could already drag out such reactions from the blond male. Enticed now, you decide to go with the second choice. 

“P-pluh-plea…? Didn’t think y-you’d be stupid! Where did m-my smart-mouthed baby go? Ugh.” 

“N-n’where m’mmy! ‘m h-here- Fuck! Fuck, pl-please! Please! Mo-more? Nngh!”

“You’re slurring, b-baby. But, you a-asked politely.” You hover your thumb over the ‘+’ button, hips grinding upward to drag out some more tears, more cries, more whimpers as you melt into the bed.

“Mommy’s g-gonna count to 10, al-alright? Ugh, then you’ll c-cum, mm. Understand?” 

You’ve never seen so much eagerness come from Monoma before, well, not unless it’s because he knows he’ll win at something or get to prove his worth even more. But the way he nods reminds you of a bobblehead: empty in the head, cute to look at. 

“G-good. Don’t forget t-to keep riding m-mommy’s big, th-thick cock.” You then lower your voice, sending shivers down his spine even with how hot he feels. “Understand?”

You don’t wait to see more of his eager nods. You press down on the button until it reaches the maximum intensity, which makes your hips jolt up so harshly, thrusting the silicon toy back up to him that it’s enough to make him squeal. Now that’s new. 

As much as you’re enjoying how satisfying the stimulation is on your wet cunt, you can’t help but moan out loud Monoma’s name as the boy’s reduced to short-lived squeals and rapid hiccups, so rapid that you’re beginning to think he might be hyperventilating. Worried, you bring your thumb to reduce the intensity before feeling him grind so desperately on your lap. So without any more distractions or hesitations, you quickly begin the countdown.

“Ten.” Monoma repeats with a strained moan, his hands flailing about as he tries to grab purchase onto something, letting go of his ‘forgotten’ skirt.

“N-nine.” Monoma finally plants his trembling hands onto your shoulders, pinning you down enough to give enough strength to his arms. Hovering over you, you frown at his skirt-covered dick. 

“Ei-eight.” Monoma tenses his thighs as much as possible to stop the shaking. Even if it didn’t do much, he begins riding you again with more vigor and desperation than previously. A high-pitched whine of your name quickly leaves him as his sensitive dick receives friction from the fabric covering it, the stain that had dried over time reviving as more precum marks it.

“Seven- shit.” Monoma’s trying to look down at you. He can’t really see much of anything, not with his tears never stopping or his mind not setting back into an intellectual phase. He can barely think to say anything else but lewd chants of your name and ‘please’, ‘more’, ‘faster’. It’s not until he moans out a timid “f-fu-ugh- fuck!” that you pay mind to the rapidly growing heat in your stomach.

“Six! Fuck, Neito!” Monoma’s continuous chants and growing volume suddenly sound babbled as he drools down on you, his saliva hitting your chin before you growl up at him. No words are exchanged as he swallows the liquid that had accumulated, although with difficulty. His thighs are beginning to burn and shake with exhaustion, quaking even worse than when he was cockwarming you. His riding turned into hard bouncing, finally stealing your breath away physically and providing some movement on the other end of the silicone toy to press harder onto your clit. 

“Fi-five!” Monoma’s eyes cross for the second time, staying longer in that position as he chokes on his scream, all because you’re beginning to meet up with your own thrusts. Your feet planted on the bed as you let go of the control for the vibrator, gripping onto his hips tightly to match him with you. You’re beginning to moan so sweetly, gasping out his name loud enough for him to-

“Cl-clo-ose! F-ugh-fuck! Fuck! Clo-oooose!” 

“Ho-hold it! Hold i-it, baby, a-almost the-there!” God, the heat is growing so deep in you that you know this will be violent.

“Four- shiiit.” Monoma’s sobbing now, ever since you told him to hold it. Mission accomplished, so far. He’s blinking rapidly, trying to get rid of the tears and allow him to actually see you. He needs to see your lewd faces, ignoring the fact he is probably rivaling yours. The intense need to cum is building up far too quickly for him to even catch up and he just wants to cum right here, right now. But if he does, you’ll punish him. So, he tries his best to hold it. 

“Three! Three, Neito!” Monoma’s trying so hard to not cum, to not even think about it, but how can he if his prostate is being overstimulated and his cock keeps receiving such familiar friction, enough to make him sob even louder. He’s not going to make it.

“T-two! Lif-ft your sk-skirt!” Monoma can’t or else he’ll fall on you. But you’re grabbing onto him so hard that he hasn’t felt the need to support himself on your shoulders. Using whatever energy he has left, he throws himself up to his old sitting position, making his bouncing sloppier and unsynchronized with your thrusts. He quickly grabs onto the wet hem, biting his lip as he tries to swallow and control his sobs. Lifting it, he’s rewarded with the sight of his slick covered cock, so red and noticeably throbbing that his eyes slightly roll to the back of his head.

“One! Fuck, one!” Monoma’s mouth opens wide, his throat constricting as every choked moan and cry tries to escape while his ass begins to tighten alarmingly fast around the toy. He jumps when he feels something wrap around him, quickly looking down at himself again to see, then feel, you viciously stroke him. And that does it.

“Cum.”

Monoma gasps as he relaxes his thighs and lets go. One more hit to his prostate and he’s…

He’s quiet.

Your eyes are as wide as dinner plates as you watch him reach his orgasm: on you, in all his beautiful glory, is Monoma Neito. A guy whose back is arched at a certain angle you’re sure it’s uncomfortable. A guy whose nipples are completely being seen through the drenched crop top. A guy whose mouth is leaking trails of drool, but not as much as his eyes are leaking streams of unstoppable tears. A guy whose face is so red and sweaty, his bangs are striking to the skin and his eye color pops out more. A guy whose only warning of his cum leaving his body, as much as his soul had, is to roll his eyes so violently to the back of his head and convulse forward.

You forget about your orgasm as you try your best to support his body in the current position, not wanting him to fall on you or backward. Well, maybe you should’ve let him fall onto you.

His cum spurts seem to be gold medal Olympians in ‘how far can we reach’ and ‘how much can we be’. The first one barely misses your eyes, but the second one hits you on the forehead. With each spurt leaving his twitching cock, Monoma hiccups whiney and loud words of gratitude and mercy, hips jumping up, torso jolting forward. His knuckles are white upon the unforgivable grip he has on his absolutely ruined skirt, slowly but surely being dirtied with each load forced out of him with the still-buzzing toy inside him.

This whole scene is enough to remind you about turning down the intensity of the vibrations while grinding slowly, both to help milk him out his incredibly overwhelming high and to bring you back to the tip of paradise. 

By the time he’s done, he nearly collapses on you but first lifts himself, somehow, off of the toy before leaning back onto your lifted thighs. He’s still twitching, the color of his face slowly coming back as his eyes dry up from the tears. The socks have moved a bit down on his legs and most of the pretty hello-kitty themed hair clips are barely fastened on his hair. You’re pretty sure some are littered around the bed.

Monoma’s eyeing his mess curiously and taking in a cum-covered you before he scoops up some of his cum, tastes himself and you both moan softly. You turn the toy off, still rolling your hips as much as possible to ride out your harsh, hot, and wet orgasm. You’re pretty sure you somehow squirted, but that doesn’t matter too much right now. 

Because the moment Monoma came back to his senses and made eye contact with you, you find yourself living in a slow-motion picture: with a shaky hand, he uses the same fingers to write down his first name before scooping up as much of his excess cum and, without any warning, moves forward to thrust his fingers in your mouth, dragging the pads of his fingertips down onto your tongue as you swallow. 

Pulling his fingers out slowly while giggling breathlessly, his signature smirk grows onto his blissed-out face.

“H-how do I ta-taste, m-mommy?”

[styx1an]

A Chat about Chat

A short fic about how Chat came to be a singular being, written by yours truly. By all means, this isn’t canon, it’s just my interpretation of things.

Word count: 1,863

Fandom: RTGame, Miitopia (NGL I’m a little displeased with how I wrote the ending, but oh well!)

You know, there is this odd sense of irony in knowing how terrified Chat was of Magical John when they aren’t even human nor a singular being in the first place. Wait, so you didn’t know? Of how they became such a being in the first place? (They chuckle.) Then I suppose that means I’ll have to tell you their story. Well then, shall we begin the tale of Chat? (You see the twinkle in their eyes. They must’ve been waiting a while to be able to do this.)

> You nod. You’ve been waiting a while to understand Chat’s origins. Tonight, like many others, belongs to the storyteller.

> You shake your head. No thanks, you think you’re too tired. Dawn shall rise anew soon, and you will not waste your time with tall tales.

(They nod, pleased with your decision.) Then I shall begin to relay their tale.

Our tale begins in the vast lands known as Twitch, a domain that belongs to another, a far crueler being whose tale is for another time. It is a place where one is free to express their opinions and whatnot (as long as it suits the many whims of its Amazonian overlords, of course), and many are versed in the easy to learn, but difficult to master art of gaming. Many such masters have gained a large following, and even if they do not possess such skill, more often than not their humor and charisma paves the way to fame.

One example of the latter would be RTGame, a man of sizable repute. Aside from the frankly ridiculous story of the origin of his moniker, he is also known for doing some… questionable things for the sake of entertainment. There are still tales of his quest in the bathtub along with Gilbert (yes, the very same Gilbert on the quest to defeat The Darker Lord Khadgar!), the night of the Painted Wall’s Communion, the birth of Mr. Compost- But my dear, we are here for one of his lesser-known exploits, one that would change the world as we know it.

> You lean closer to the campfire, watching the storyteller with a renewed interest. Where does the tale lead? Where does it end? You need to know.

> It’s getting even later. You think some rest will be needed before tomorrow’s travels begin. Perhaps the rest of the story can wait another time?

It was a dark and stormy night. The then-Dark Lord Von Karma had just been unleashed upon the land, and I Want Die set along the path of salvation with his fellow party members, Mr. Bean the Warrior, Goofy the Thief, and Mint the Horse. He was pleased with the ease with which they vanquished monsters and saved (literal) faces, but the lack of actual conversation within the party had begun to get to him. Mr. Bean had nothing to offer other than a simple “Bean!” every now and then, and Goofy terrified him with all the “hyuck!” and talks of absolving the world’s many sins. Mint is a horse and therefore cannot participate in a verbal conversation unless you happen to understand what her neighs meant. She also happens to be the most normal member of the party, strangely enough.

Either way, I Want Die longed for a proper conversation.

And God took notice.

It was inevitable. The fourth party member was always going to join, whether he wanted one or not. It shouldn’t be notable in any way whatsoever, yet here I am regaling this tale to you.

It is not how Chat had come to join the party that I wanted to explain, but rather how they came to be.

Do you remember the man I had called RTGame? I hope you had not thought of him as irrelevant to our tale, as he is the patron saint of I Want Die’s adventures. Surely you know of the vast armory that belongs to the party? The various delicacies fed to the team? All his work. Along with his followers’ contributions, of course.

Chat was what he called his followers, the ones who watched his various endeavors as he traveled across the land of Twitch. Oftentimes the crowd would conversate with him (hence their name), offering jokes and sardonic commentary whenever he did anything remotely comedic. Other times, RT would have to tell them off for being such a rowdy bunch- the usual group of thousands could never keep quiet for long.

It happened that Chat witnessed I Want Die’s pilgrimage along with RTGame. They all looked upon him with a jolly sense of humor (after all, their master is well-versed in the art of comedy), some wondering where his travels will bring him. The others who knew how it would all end kept silent at the behest of RTGame. Either way, every single one of them was enjoying the show he had put on for them. 

And came the time to summon the fourth member.

As per usual, RTGame withdrew into his workshop, closing the curtains around him so no curious onlooker could see inside. But that did not stop Chat from yelling their predictions and demands.

“EDGEWORTH” one cried.

Another begged for a certain “End Mii!”

“CHAT CALM DOWN!”

“!uptime”

“69420toesucker just subscribed for 5 months!”

“TURG”

RTGame smiled at them. He wasn’t surprised at all at their reactions, rather it was something he had hoped would happen.

“Alright then Chat,” he said, “here they are!”

His pale, thin hands reached out to open the curtains-

And unveiled a faceless, empty husk of a being. 

Under any other circumstances, Chat would’ve rioted, demanded justice against the irony of sending a faceless doll to retrieve the faces of others. But they had no time.

Almost in an instant, the skies darkened. Clouds swirled up above with vibrant shades of violet, cobalt, magenta. Bright blue lightning strikes a tree and dissolves it into dust. Somewhere distant, something roars. The air feels thick- something magical, something electric is positively buzzing. Magic truly is in the air.

And thunder strikes once again. 

The crowd is gone.

Silence fell. All that is left is the master and the doll, no longer an empty husk.

> You look up to the storyteller, their eyes reflecting the blazing flames. You have a feeling that you know how this ends, but you’d rather have them confirm it first.

> You’re sleepy. As tempting as it is to continue listening to their story, you must admit that the very idea of slumber is even more tantalizing.

RTGame had managed to do exactly what he wanted. Chat’s consciousness, placed inside of a single, physical being. A puppet controlled by a hivemind would not be very easy to control, yes. But the idea intrigued him. And wouldn’t it be better than having a large gaggle of people constantly behind him, watching his every move? It could help I Want Die on his journey too.

So it is settled. It happened that one of the members of his temple had just crafted a rather nice puppet, in case RT needed one. And he did come to use it. It does look a little plain, as both body and head are painted in the same shade of bright white. However, the face was not white like how it was in the beginning, but a disturbingly pitch-black space. No, that’s not the right word.

Rather, it was like a void had formed. That’s also not the right phrase to describe it either, as there were drops of ichor dripping down onto the ground, dissolving the once green grass. But I digress. 

Chat broke the silence that had fallen between them, wailing as a cacophony of noises and emotions spilled out. Despite what RT had done to them, they were still determined to voice their opinions. Quite in character, really. 

“RT WHAT”

“NO NO NO”

“!uptime”

“I'M ON TV!!!”

“bazingabanana just gifted 5 subs!”

“that’s kinda meta”

As their voices grew louder, ichor kept pouring out of the void. As expected, RT thought to himself. He still needs to act fast. So with a quick snap, he fastened a wooden mask the temple-goer made; the same shade of white, a pair of beady black eyes almost as dark and soulless as the void, bright purple ears. 

The yelling and complaining didn’t stop of course. Still, as their voices were muffled by the mask, it was an arguably better experience than the previous ear-splitting wails. And it was less deadly too. Ichor had stopped dripping down onto the grass, which meant that the constant sizzling would finally stop.

Now, one last thing.

RT stared into Chat’s eyes.

This in itself wouldn’t have been quite a remarkable action had it been anyone else, but it’s Chat that we are talking about. The very sensation of doing something as simple as gazing into a hivemind’s many souls wasn’t anything ordinary, either.

It felt like you had just plunged one of your hands into ice-cold water in the middle of winter and not only are you freezing, you’re scared and you don’t know whether you’d come out in one piece.

They all stared back. Thousands and thousands looked upon RT, all different yet whispering the same things, each claiming to be an individual yet virtually nothing distinctive belongs to them. A true hivemind. It’s exactly what he wanted, but he wondered if perhaps other troubles would arise.

He let himself go from their gazes. It asks too much of him.

“Alright then, Chat. Ready?”

A gaggle of voices reply, sounding their agreements.

“OK then!”

--

I Want Die finally opened the inn door, after convincing himself that he’d like this new friend. That this one would be neither an anime villain, a comedy star or a horse. Someone with actual rational thoughts and words to speak.

In front of the door stood a short figure, clad in a purple mage’s robes. Their pitch-black eyes looked at I Want Die, and a chorus of voices came from their permanent smile:

“Hi, I’m Chat!”

And I Want Die wondered if he had forgotten to cross off ‘hivemind’ off his list of potential party members.

Chat’s introduction ends here, of course. But not their tale. The journey was far from over in fact. The party had yet to meet the Royal Court, witnessed the court’s love affair, or get kidnapped by the Dark Lord Von Karma. Even the party wasn’t complete, as it was only the first party I Want Die would encounter in his tale of redemption.

And it’s not the only story either. You haven’t heard of Magical John’s past life, or how Cupcake isn’t as pure as she seems. Gilbert’s fear of the kitchen. How Jefferson came to be, and Obama’s past life with Mr. Bean.

But I’m afraid I must stop here, for it is late already, is it not? Our journey must continue tomorrow. Let us rest. Goodnight, may the stars shine for you. (They head off into their tent, leaving you alone with the flickering embers of a dying fire.)

> You bid the storyteller goodnight. Perhaps they’ll tell you another one of their stories, underneath the moonlight once more.

[redrosesartcabin]

So yeah, I wrote the thing based on an anon message for @itsme-star

I made it a Barley x (female) reader (based on my self insert character) fanfic ‘cause I had to be a little self indulgent lmao

I hope you enjoy it! It turned out longer than I had planned xD

——————————————————

The double-decker couch

Barley x (female) reader fanfiction

———

Around three months ago:

Y/n’s boyfriend, Barley Lightfoot, had knocked on her window… with small stones… in the middle of the night:

At first her ear just twitched and the noise had mashed with the dream she was having, but the more the noise repeated, the more her consciousness felt pulled into the physical realm again, and with a groan, she had to face the reality that the noise would not stop until she got up (she already had a suspicion as to who was causing the noise).

With a heavy sigh, y/n forced herself from under her comfortable blanket, before ripping the window open.

‘Of course it’s him’, she thought, looking down at Barley as he waved his hands up at her, somehow wide awake.

‘How much energy can a person have?’, she asked herself, before she motioned with her hands, that she’d come outside.

“What in the world are you doing here?”, she asked as she arrived, whisper-yelling at him.

“Well you know how it is my lady: sometimes one just drives around at night after finishing a campaign of quests of yore and sees the poster of a double-decker bus and then one might think: ‘Wouldn’t it be cool if one could have a couch after that structure?’ After having had thought about a new couch for a while and ‘wouldn’t it be cool, if one might be able to build that with their girlfriend?’”

“I can’t say I relate, though I am impressed by one having the idea”, she said, deliberately accentuating the word ‘one’, as she couldn’t now but smile at her beautiful dork, “And I have to say I love the idea, though I still have to decide whether it was worth waking me up at three a.m… but for now I’ll just say yes, because I love you too much to be mad at you for this”

“I know: I’m irresistible”, he winked, pulling her closer to him and engaging her in a sickeningly romantic kiss.

“As nice as this is, I would still like to catch up on some sleep. We’ll write later and you tell when we should start building”

“I actually thought… you know… that maybe now-”

“Don’t push it”

“Right”

Now:

It hadn’t been easy. First they had to scavenge several junkyards for old couches (because let’s be real: They were both poor college students and buying material or new couches just was too expensive), who weren’t completely busted. Then they had to figure out how to build the thing.

After studying art for a while, where y/n had to do a bunch of installation projects, she had gotten significantly better at building things with woods and such, though she still wasn’t an expert. And whilst Barley also got crafty from time to time, he also wasn’t a master.

But somehow, after sweat, and even a couple of tears after y/n once got her hand stuck under one of the couches, they had finished it: The double decker couch.

“This-”, Barley said, pointing his finger at it, “This is beautiful”.

It was a yellow and a green couch, connected through metal poles and stabilized with old wood planks with two ladders placed on top of it and just enough space between the couches, so that one could sit up straight. It sort of looked like a bunk bed, but with couches.

“It is. It really is”, y/n agreed, looking at her bandaged hand, “totally worth busting my hand”

“Totally worth going through every junkyard in the city”, Barley added.

“Totally worth being awake once for 48 hours”, she added as well.

“This should be awarded some kind of price… maybe I’d also just be happy for some money for a wellness weekend ‘cause my back could really need a nice massage”, Barley groaned, touching the small of his back.

“Hard agree”

They stayed standing there for a while, looking at it, before y/n occurred a question that should’ve occurred to her much sooner.

“So-uhm-”, she started, “what do we actually do with it now?”, she asked

“Sit on it of course. You sit below and I above so I can feed you grapes like you’re a roman emperor”, Barley explained matter of factly.

“That sounds lovely darling but that’s not what I mean”

“What seems to be the issue then?”he asked, a little frustrated. What could she possibly have to say now? After so much hard work?

“I mean… where do we put it?”, she asked with a sincere expression which immediately washed away his annoyance, “because it certainly won’t stay in my parents basement”, she stated.

“It’s certainly more worthy than this old, dusty room with your family's junk. And also because this place is crawling with bugs that I will have to remove every time because you’ll just screech and run away until it magically disappears”

“Hey!”, y/n interjected

“It's true!”

“Ok yeah fair enough, though seriously- where? I also can bet’ya we can’t put it anywhere in our homes either. It probably barely fit under the ceiling”

“Yeah no”

A moment of contemplative silence spread across them.

After a while, Barleys thoughts wandered to the night where he had gotten the idea. He thought about his beloved car-

‘OH. MY. GOD. That’s it!’, he thought to himself.

“I got it!”, he then yelled excitedly, his face contorted into one of the most adorable expressions y/n had ever seen anyone wear. No matter what it would be: She couldn’t but say yes to that smile.

Still she asked, “What’ya got?”

“You know how I got my idea from a poster with a double-decker bus?”, he asked her, still smiling like he had won the lottery

“Yes?”

“And you know how I have a van, right?”

“No”, she answered sarcastically, “I know absolutely nothing about your most prized possession of a van that you called Guenivere the second after you sacrificed your first Guenivere when on a quest-”

“Ok I got the gist”, he chuckled, “but ok hear this: Since I have this wonderful van, this wonderful BIG van-”

“Wait a minute: You really want to put the couch in-”, she interrupted as she realized what he was saying, but got immediately interrupted back as he realized she had caught on

“Yes! I absolutely am”

“Dear lord… but ok I have no better idea, let’s do it”

“YES”

“Barley I am telling you, this is NOT working”, y/n huffed as she let her side of the construction gently land on the ground once again.

“Come on, just one more time!”, Barley pleaded.

“You’ve been saying ‘just one more time’ for an hour!”, she argued, “there is no way around: this just doesn’t fit inside the van. You underestimated Guenivere”

“Hey! There is no underestimating Guenivere! It’s not her fault”, he pouted.

“Ok ok ok... Sorry Gueni”, y/n said, giving the car a sincere pat on one of the back doors. She has gotten used to treating the car similar to a pet, “but seriously: We’ve been trying this at every angle, and as cool as Guenivere is, she can’t magically shapeshift”

“Magically shapeshift”, Barely repeated her last words, suddenly deep in thought, before an “ohhhh”, sound escaped him, “wait here my lady, I’ll be back in a sec”

“O...k”, she said, a little confused.

Five minutes later, she saw Ian storm out of his house, his hands clenched around his magic staff, with Barley closely behind him. “WHAT'S THE EMERGENCY?”Ian yelled as he came to a hold, which caused his brother to almost crash into him.

“I need you to make Guenivere big enough so that our self made double-decker couch fits into her”, Barely explained, breathing as though he had just run from death.

For a moment nobody said anything to that before Ian and y/n both shouted

“WHAT?”,at the same time.

“So much for an emergency”, Ian also mumbled, a little annoyed at his brother's antics.

“I mean: If she’s too small, then we can just make her bigger, right?”

“Technically yes but I think you didn’t consider a very small, tiny detail”, Ian commented.

“And what would that be?”, Barley asked irritated, not understanding what the issue was.

“You are aware as a supposed magic expert, that I can’t only enlarge the trunk, right? I would have to make the entire car big, and that would lead-”

“-to the entire street being filled with the car”, y/n finished the thought, apologetically laying her hand on Barleys shoulder, “I’m sorry my love. It was a nice thought”

“Dang it”, Barley breathed out, “I was looking forward to make my own uber-van-couch-double-decker-business”

“Hm”, y/n simply hummed. She had known from the beginning it would probably go south, but his enthusiasm had given her hope.

“Sorry Barley”, Ian said quietly, now feeling bad for having been so harsh beforehand , before slowly heading inside again.

Y/n and Barely sat down on the edge of Guenivere’s trunk, tired and disappointed that it all hadn’t turned out like they wanted as they looked at their creation.

Y/n leaned against Barley’s shoulder, lovingly rubbing her cheek against him like a cat (she loved doing that).

After a while Barley decided he had enough of sulking, standing up to go to the front to put on some good old metal (which luckily she enjoyed too).

As he however returned to the trunk, he noticed some ropes laying around.

He had used ropes last time to tie up some of the material he had bought for their project, so they wouldn’t move around- what if though…

“Ok I’ve had enough”, Barley decided, “I WILL have my double-decker-couch-van for more people to ride with me and my buddies and if its the last thing I’m gonna do!”

“Barley, what are you-”, y/n wanted to ask, but as she saw him pick up the ropes from the trunk floor, she understood, “- Are you sure this will work out?”

“Nope”, he answered truthfully, “but I will surely try!”

She was still skeptical, but at the same time she would try anything with him, and if it meant helping him tie a double-decker-couch to the roof of his van.

“If you believe it can be done, I will too”, she smiled, giving him a quick peck on his cheek, “let’s do this!”

It was eight p.m. The sun was almost behind the horizon and the streetlamps threw dodgy looking lights in the middle of the street and kept the corners dark.

But the elven couple, who stood in front of a yellow van with a double-decker couch tied to its roof, couldn't help but see what they had accomplished: Which was accomplishing what, at least the female elf, had thought was impossible… yet again.

“I can’t believe that worked”, Y/n mumbled.

“Told ya”, Barley hushed back.

“Should we drive around? See if anyone is crazy enough to go on a drive?”, she asked.

“You bet we are. And tomorrow… and whenever we can. I’ll be the driver and you the tourist guide.. or maybe some kinda sturdess, after all you’re good lookin’”

“Oh hush”, she giggled, visibly blushing

“And-”, he continued, though not without giving her a good wink after his compliment, “then we’re gonna show the dear people of this town another perspective to life”

“That we can promise”, she laughed, “that we sure can”

[archaxwii]

The Tiny Fox Thief

Warnings: This story contains soft, safe, vore. Scott catches Fundy trying to steal his stuff for the 100th time and decides to punish him to deter him from doing it again.

I promise I didn’t stop wanting to write these, I originally wrote this like two months ago but works been rough recently and killing my motivation and time to write, but hey at least I got this out in time for Origins to come back? I’m hoping the next one won’t take as long but I can’t make any promises. Despite the long wait I hope you enjoy! 

A tiny fox man was rummaging through his things.

Again.

Scott had causally walked into his house to get some payment for Ranboo and Tubbo for a trade they were doing for his new build, and he was greeted with a familiar sight.

He opened one of his chests to grab some gold and out of the corner of his eye he spotted a tiny ball of orange fluff hiding behind a diamond that was suspiciously not with the other diamonds.

Scott rolled his eyes, he grabbed the gold he needed and safely stored it away from the greedy fox before plucking Fundy up from behind the diamond.

Said fox yelped a little at being caught and now being so close to the giant.

Scott shifted his grip so Fundy was gently held in his hands instead of dangling by the fingers. Even if he was a little thief Scott didn't want to hurt his friend.

Scott raised an eyebrow at him." This is the fifth time this month Fundy, don't you ever get tired of gong through people's things?" He questioned flatly.

Fundy gave Scott a sheepish look." Uh, heyyy, Scott...I uhh, don't know what you're talking about, I was just looking at your pretty gems, they're uhh, very shiny from down here, you know?" His eyes darted around, trying not to make eye contact with the agitated giant.

Scott didn't seem convinced.

"You know, you'd have your own shiny diamonds to look at if you went and got them yourself instead of stealing from other people." He deadpanned.

"Pshh, what's the fun in that?" A look of fear crossed his face as he realized his mistake." Uhh, not that I was stealing, cause, uh, heh I was totally not doing that, I promise haha." His ears flattened against the back of his head as he grinned nervously.

" What am I gonna do with you? You know I could blow you to smithereens right?" Scott shook his head. He was obviously joking, but a little intimidation never hurt anybody.

"Ahah, but you'd never do that right?" In the back of his mind he knew Scott wouldn't do that, but Fundy did shrink a little further into Scott's hand nonetheless.

"Hmm, maybe I should, teach you a lesson to quit stealin' from everyone." Scott threatened.

At first it was an empty threat, but a small rumble from his stomach gave him a different idea.

It wasn't uncommon for someone to go missing for a little while due to being tucked away in a persons belly. Most of the giants in this server had the ability to protect their prey and keep them safe for as long as they wanted, and for the ones who didn't have those powers there were potions that could easily help keep prey safe as well.

That's why Fundy knew as soon as he heard that growl, with the look that crossed Scott's face, that it was time to bolt. He immediately panicked and started trying to squirm out of the hand he was trapped in.

"I think I know a good place I can put you for tonight, maybe it'll teach you a lesson." Scott himself had never eaten anyone before, but he knew he had a control over his own digestive system, so he wouldn't actually hurt Fundy.

"P-please, Scott! I-I promise I won't steal again, I've changed, I've mended my ways and all that!" He stuttered frantically.

Now, Fundy has spent a fair few nights in the belly of one of his friends, especially after he'd been caught stealing from them, but just because he knew it was safe didn't mean he liked it. It was just so humiliating.

And I mean do you know how long it takes to get saliva out of fur?

In a stroke of luck, Fundy managed to squirm out of Scott's grip and he leapt off of Scott's hand onto the floor.

Fundy was speedier than the average tiny, fast enough to almost make it to the little hole the tinies used to get into Scott's house.

Key word there is almost.

Right as he got to the entrance, as the scent of the outside hit his muzzle...he was swept right back up into Scott's hands.

He whined as Scott's grinning face looked down at him." So close, yet so far Fundy." He petted Fundy's head with his thumb." I promise it's just for tonight, it'll be a good nights sleep and I'll let you out in the morning." Scott tried to reassure.

It was quite warm inside, it was soft and it was easy to fall asleep knowing he was safe.

Fundy huffed. That didn't mean he liked it! It was slimy and gross, it was so loud, and being eaten was so just embarrassing, and don't even get started on the trip down! No, he most certainly did not want to get eaten.

Scott kept a firm grip on him as he lifted Fundy above his head. Fundy yelped as Scott opened his mouth and unceremoniously dropped him in.

To Fundy this was a familiar hell. To Scott this was an unfamiliar heaven.

He hummed as he felt squirming around. Fundy battered his tiny paws at his teeth, trying to get him to open his mouth.

Scott didn't relent and instead started licking the little fox. He had a very salty taste that made his mouth water.

After Scott figured Fundy had been covered in enough saliva, he tilted his head back so Fundy knew what was coming. It was strange to feel Fundy physically tense, and after a couple seconds he swallowed him down.

Fundy yelped as he was shoved into the dark tunnel.

This was always his least favorite part. Not that he liked any of it, mind you. But this always left him dizzy and disoriented and feeling a bit sick.

He squirmed at the painful crushing that slowly pulled him down. He could tell Scott had never eaten someone before, it was much more painful than usual.

After a few more swallows his feet were pressed against something, he whined as he was squeezed through something much tighter and then unceremoniously dropped into a shallow pool of liquid.

Tired as the decent down left him, Fundy didn't hesitate to scramble up and start battering at the walls. He didn't want to actually hurt Scott, but he was still upset, it was so disgusting and humiliating. Why did they always do this to him?

Scott stumbled a bit, leaning against the chest at the unexpected assault on his stomach.

He didn't expect to be able to feel everything so strongly, and it felt kinda nice, despite the attack inside.

He hummed, pressing a hand to his stomach." You doing alright in there Fundy?" He inquired. He wanted to make sure he wasn't gonna actually hurt him.

"No, Scott, you just ate me!" He growled, trying to jump and climb up the slick walls to no avail." Please let me out, it's really gross in here!" He whined.

Scott chuckled, rubbing circles on his belly." Well I didn't exactly swallow you for your enjoyment, this is meant to be a punishment after all." He lowered his voice, tone more serious." Are you actually ok in there? I'm not hurting you, right?"

"...If I said yes would you let me out?"

"Fundy."

"Ok, ok, yeah I'm not dying or whatever." Fundy huffed, slumping against the wall with his arms over his chest.

"It's just for the night Fundy, I promise I'll let you out in the morning." He reassured.

Fundy remained grumpily silent, until Scott heard the thumping of footsteps and a figure appeared in the doorway.

"Scott?" Inquired the dark, imposing figure of Ranboo. The poor ender hybrid had to duck to see into the door.

Caught up in catching Fundy, Scott had forgotten his original goal when coming in here.

"Oh, I'm sorry Ranboo, I was trying to grab the gold for you guys and found a certain someone rummaging through my things again, so I had to deal with that." He quickly explained, sliding off the chest.

At the mention of Ranboo, Fundy scrambled up trying to claw at the walls again." Ranboo! Help me! I don't want to stay in here please!" He cried.

Unfortunately for Fundy, Ranboo couldn't hear him from the inside, but from the slight glance to Scott's belly he seemed to be able to figure out what happened.

Regardless of whether he knew or not Ranboo only lightly chuckled." You'd think he'd get tired of stealing one day." He stepped into the house, shaking his head." Well, do you have our stuff?"

Scott did a little "Oh yeah!" jump before turning around to dig in his chests. Fundy was still fiercely trying to get Ranboo's attention, which Scott blithely ignored.

After a couple seconds Ranboo was in the possession of 3 stacks of Redstone, a couple gold blocks, and some obsidian, and Scott now owned several stacks of concrete that he couldn't be bothered to harvest himself for a new build he was working on.

After saying their goodbye's Ranboo wandered off to...wherever he and Tubbo wandered off to, and Scott was left alone with Fundy, who was now grumpily sulking against the stomach wall.

After shifting his spades of concrete into his chests Scott retired to his room, flopping backwards onto his bed, trying not to jostle Fundy around too much.

He curled up around his middle, wrapping his arms around his stomach and allowing himself to revel in the sensation of Fundy being in there. Fundy wasn't moving much anymore but Scott could feel his weight, like a warm stone sat in the center of his belly. If he concentrated enough he could even feel the fox's soft breathing.

As much as Scott wanted to punish Fundy he did still feel bad for trapping him all night." You gonna be alright in there?" He softly asked.

Fundy huffed tiredly. It wasn't...that bad. It could actually be quite calming if he had wanted this to happen. It was much warmer than his cave and softer than the bed he slept on. The deep sounds of Scott's lungs and organs working around him did much better to soothe him than the dead silence he slept in at home. It wasn't really that bad in here if you ignored the disgusting amounts of slime...it's just that he hated feeling like food. And he knew nobody on the server felt like that towards him, but it didn't stop his brain from thinking about it that way.

He curled up tighter in a ball." I don't like being food for you guys." He mumbled, Scott could barely even hear the fox.

Scott pressed a hand to his belly, surprised at the sudden vulnerability. He didn't know Fundy felt that way about being eaten. Scott had assumed it was a fun game to him like it was everyone else." Fundy...none of us think like that about you, any of you, we like to have fun and mess with you guys but I-none of us- would ever think of you as food." He reassured. He'd never taken much consideration into how tinies really felt about being eaten, since people like Tubbo, Tommy, and Niki seemed to enjoy it (most of the time) and with the knowledge that it was safe, he didn't consider how negative it could be for some tinies.

He rubbed circles into his belly, feeling regretful." Do you actually want me to let you out? I don't want you to be in there if it upsets you."

Fundy sighed, licking at the few stray salty tears on his face."...No, there's no point when I'm already in here. And it isn't...that bad, I just...hate being reminded of where I am."

Scott chuckled lightly." Just think of it like a really weird waterbed, except with more slime." He offered.

Fundy snorted. It was like a waterbed of sorts, except it felt more like you were inside it than on top of it.

He laid his head down on his arms, closing his eyes. He didn't fall asleep immediately, but Scott's words soothed his nerves enough to where he found the stomach much less distressing than it had previously been. With Scott gently rubbing him and the sound of his heartbeat filling his ears and drowning out his thoughts, Fundy drifted to sleep.

Scott wasn't tired just yet. Being a Starborne, he much preferred being out at night and as such he was mostly nocturnal. He didn't mind staying awake anyway. He didn't know the next time he would be able to do something like this and wanted to enjoy himself as much as possible.

For now, Scott was content to just settle down and comfort Fundy. He'd had a rough couple hours thanks to him so he wanted to make him feel better as much as possible. He hadn't eaten tonight, but Fundy filled his belly enough where he didn't need to, a nice comfortable weight to keep the hunger at bay. He softly rubbed circles into his belly around Fundy, who seemed to slowly be drifting off. He was happy to lay like that for another few hours, enjoying the feeling of Fundy inside, as close and safe to him as a friend could be.

[shorkbrian]

Villain! Bakugo out here with a Mommy kink hoping for milk? Sign me up

I did a bunch of research on this, and am armed with practical knowledge of how Bakugou might treat you if he had a lactation kink.

(What to expect - HEAVY lactation kink, not super NSFW but it’s there, dubcon. I get a bit more explanatory and less smutty lol sorry)

At the beginning of his kink development, Bakugou wouldn’t necessarily be looking to actually make his partner lactate. He just finds the sensations comforting, lying on a pillowy chest, wrapping his lips around a nipple and sucking until he falls asleep. Does he have an oral fixation? Maybe, but that’s not necessarily why he’d do it.

Something about the closeness, the skin-to-skin contact, the trust and safety that’s felt just really gets him going. He gets all soft and relaxed, sucking on his babe’s nipples. As such a rough, irritated guy, the oxytocin he gets from committing such a deeply intimate act is literally like a drug to him. He wants more and more of that feeling, of the close connection with his darling, whether or not they’d be willing.

It’s a huge, huge act of love and generosity, especially taking the time to commit and induce lactation.

Bakugou would go all out, he’d have pumps, creams, make his darling eat a special diet, I think he’d even go to lengths to get lactation-inducing drugs. Lactation can happen outside of pregnancy, it just takes a lot of time, patience, and research.

Those drugs (like Domperidone) have to be taken 3-4 times a day, pumping has to happen pretty regularly, and the woman has to be relatively relaxed and in a good headspace. Stress, poor sleep, and a lack of water or food can result in a woman’s production lessening and drying up, so Bakugou’s darling really isn’t going to ever get a break.

Like, she’s stressed because she’s with him, because he’s so controlling and possessive and won’t let any other man even look at her. Stressed because Bakugou insists on her lactating, even if she’s not that into it or if it makes her uncomfortable. Stressed how needy and demanding the man is, how it’s his way or the highway, how if she doesn’t go along with whatever he wants, Bakugou accuses her of not loving him.

So already, it’ll be hard for lactation to happen.

But every night, just like clockwork, Bakugou’s there.

He’ll knead your breasts for a while, warming them up, enjoying the feel of them in his hands. Sometimes he’ll do this when you’re watching TV, or trying to cook dinner, or on your phone. Just sidles up behind you and grabs your chest, squeezing and groping and massaging the mounds with care.

While he’s rough and aggressive during sex, he’s more controlled during times like these, softer and less prone to acting like he’s got a toilet bristle brush shoved up his ass.

After he’s sufficiently “warmed you up” you get sat down somewhere comfy - sometimes the couch, but preferably the bed, just in case Bakugou feels a little more pent up than usual and wants to relieve some stress using your body in another way.

If he hasn’t stripped you of your shirt already, that’s next, along with your bra. Bakugou prefers you to be completely nude, but you find that extraordinarily uncomfortable, so after a couple of heated arguments, Bakugou’s decided to relent on that rule.

The man’s shirt comes off too, so he gets to lie flush against your and feel your soft flesh against his own.

The first couple of times, he had always started out far too eager, pulling and tugging at your nipple painfully, creating such a tight suction with his lips that it made you cry, and you’d begged him to stop. He hadn’t, not until you’d made milk for him. Something that you had thought to be impossible, considering you weren’t pregnant.

But not he starts of gentler, with soft kisses over your breasts, little kitten licks across your nipples, hands holding your sides, your shoulders, anywhere he could grab with uncharacteristic tenderness.

When he finally does dip down and begin sucking, it always feels weird. NO matter how many times he does this, you can’t feel comfortable with it. It’s such a strange, pulling sensation, relieving, emptying.

Bakugou’s figured out how to suckle and breath at the same time, just like a baby. He’ll purse his lips and nurse, stop for moment to breathe through his nose, then continue. This results in his warm breath intermittently puffing over your skin, making desperate little noises as he continues to drink you up.

You’d never have thought that Bakugou Katsuki could be defined as desperate, or soft.

Whichever breast he’s not sucking at gets massaged with one of his hands, tweaking the nipple, groping your flesh. You don’t know how or when he got so good with his mouth and hands, when he was able to practice coordination like that, but the movements are seamless for him. 

He spends a significant amount of time lathering one breast with attention. If his jaw gets sore, or his mouth feels tired, he’ll pull of for a few moments to nuzzle at your plushy tits before latching on again.

And when he’s ready, he’ll switch to the other breast, hand immediately coming to spread his saliva around your nipple, to try and combat the chill that always makes you shiver whenever your spit-slick nipple gets exposed to the air.

All you can do is lay there and let him drink his fill.

Trying to catch his attention or try to divert him back to different activities is like trying to water a fake plant - absolutely nothing happens.

You get ignored, or Katsuki slaps at your hands if you try to pull him off, squinting up at you like a petulant child.

He usually falls asleep like that, it’s been months of the same routine, every single night. Bakugou suckling at you like you’re the first drink he’s had in years, obviously desperate and wanting, but trying his absolute best to hold himself back from devouring you.

Sometimes, if he’s excited, he’ll fuck you like that, hips slapping against your while he’s hunched over your tits, panting against your flesh.

Cumming always feels better when that happens, but it’s not like you’ll tell him that. He already pushes for you to let him nurse at your tits any chance he can get, and especially when it comes to sex. 

Even after an intense, tiring fuck, Katsuki can’t fall asleep unless his mouth is on you, tongue sucking at your nipple. 

Bakugou highly enjoys suckling at you at any time of day - right when he wakes up, before you’re even conscious, when you’re watching TV or reading a book, at lunch time... really any chance he gets, his face is buried in your chest. He always gets sleepy afterwards though, so he’s prone to even more irritability if he can’t take a nap, of which he completely denies. Says you try to use that as an excuse to not let him touch you, and then it’s back to the old argument of Katsuki claiming you don’t love him.

He’s manipulative, but you don’t know what else to do except give in.

During the day, he has timers set for when you’re supposed to take your lactation pills. The man had hand-fed you them at first, not trusting you to do it right yourself, considering how you were against the idea. 

When he has work, Katsuki video-calls you, makes you take the pill and show him your mouth afterwords.

Pumping happens semi-regularly, only if Katsuki hasn’t been able to nurse for as long or as often as he usually does. You’ve learned not to do it while he’s around, even if he’s in the house working on paperwork. Katsuki hears the sound of the pump and suddenly appears, bulge in his trousers, a gleam in his eye. 

So you do it when he’s away, per his rigid instructions. He makes you text him when you do, as a video call would make him too excited.

He’s very good at keeping you taken care of. When you’re starting to chafe and get sucked raw, he makes sure to slather your chest with cold creams and oils to speed up healing time, to heal the angry, swollen skin. It’s like your body dislikes his nursing as much as you do, with how often it seems to ache from his treatment. 

Bakugou makes sure you get eat foods that help increase prolactin, the lactation hormone. Dates and Apricots are staples in your diet, and you’re sick of them. Bakugou insists you eat them anyway. You’re going to produce milk, no matter how much he has to force it.

You provide him with safety, security, a warm place to lay his head at night (your chest) and the one thing that seems to help him calm down in any situation.

When he comes home angry, you only have to wince through his rough fondling before he begins to pacify, and by the time his mouth reaches your breast, he’s quiet and relaxed.

Something’s agitating him beyond belief? he comes to you, salivating, expectant and sure of relief.

Whatever you want, however you feel - that’s all an afterthought, always has been, and always will be.

[ontowanderlust]

SYPNOSIS. What do you do when you couldn't find the right words to say? You express yourself through different means, of course. But what about years worth of things left unsaid? Well then, what better way to do so than express it through a mixtape, right?

PROMPT. Prompt #23 [The Way You Said "I Love You"]: Through a song

TROPES. S2F2L; Idiots in love; Slow Burn; Two timelines; Non-linear storylines

WC. 19k words. (Longest fic of mine as of the late. Yes, I am so happy and satisfied. 😌)

WARNINGS. Unedited; Grammatical errors; This fic is written in tagalog so most of the story won't make sense to some; Slow burn. You know what that means, folks. [angst. lots of it.]

NOTES. I had been contemplating whether to post it here or in wordpress but since I've gotten too used to tumblr's features, I chose to post it here under this account. Forgive me as it's been a while since I last used this style of writing [I call this one: my wattpad-ish style] so if you see any inconsistencies in grammar or if it's a bit clumsier, you know why. This fic is also a commissioned piece- some parts are written in tagalog so please bear with me, non-filo tumblr users.

DEDICATION. There is beauty in stories. It’s where you can escape when reality hits too hard. And while people may not know it but sometimes, all we ever need are just little opportunities for an escape. Just for a little bit. And so this is for you, dearest. Belated happy birthday. Hope it's worth the wait.

She must've been really tired than what she had expected because for some reason, the counter that separates the living room and kitchen had been void of clutter.

Why, earlier this morning, she couldn't even take a glimpse of the marble top of that same counter since she and her roommate just loved dumping all of their stuff there. So we could see our stuff easier, Rianne had reasoned out. Oh the irony.

So why is she looking at a clutter free counter?

Taking a step forward, her eyes narrowed as she found a single parcel lying on the counter with her name written on it.

Was Rianne trying to prank her again? Hasn’t she learn her lesson last month?

Before she could even spiral down her thoughts, the phone in her hand buzzed with a message from the devil herself.

What the hell.

Furrowing her eyebrows, she reached over the post it note stuck on the parcel, confusion written all over her face.

You know how I'm shit at expressing my thoughts so I figured, if I can't tell you directly, what better way than to tell you the best way I know how, right?

Kinda old school, but here's a mixtape of some of the music I found myself listening into these past few months. I hope they convey what this heart of mine can't.

So. Will you listen?

Despite the nondisclosure of the sender's identity, the neat handwriting had given it away. Scoffing to herself, she swiped the parcel from the counter, pushing all rampaging emotions deep down.

The nerve of this guy to send cryptic parcels and vague post its when he hadn't even bothered staying in contact after graduation. Ano, wala lang sa kanya yung pinagsamahan nila? Ah so that's how it is, huh?

Come to think of it, it's quite weird that Rianne seemed to know a thing about this package even if her message says otherwise. Was she still in speaking terms with Cj? Not to be that person but she would've thought Rianne would be the last person Cj would get in contact with. After all, it wasn't a secret that the two had acted civilly just for her sake.

So- since when are they close enough that Rianne would willingly let her roommate borrow one of her prized possessions? Was there something she missed?

Traipsing her way to her roommate's room, she ignored the way her stomach would flutter as she searched for Rianne's vintage speaker- the one gifted to her by her boyfriend- which is kinda odd that she would let her borrow it considering all the times she tried telling her friend multiple times that owning a vintage item would be the start of every horror films.

Ah but then again, this is Rianne and if her friend's in need, she would still let them borrow her stuff- despite the slander she had spoken against that speaker.

Heaving out a small sigh, she gingerly took the speaker before going to her room, unwrapping the parcel only to find a single cassette.

Well. Only one way to find out then.

-=-

Now Playing: Atin ang Mundo 0:46 ─ㅇ─────── 4:13

Paglingon ikaw agad ang nakita, di maiiwasan na ikaw ay titigan.

He noticed her first.

Oh how he noticed her in a room full of people whose attention had either been towards one of his friends who had been cracking jokes in his abnormally (affectionate) loud voice or the group of people arguing about the latest gossip just in front of them.

She always chose the second row, right wing of the room, aisle seat which baffled him at first because- who would want to sit in the professor's line of sight where the probability of getting called during recitations were at high rate- only to understand where her sentiments lie when he realized just how soft spoken this professor was. Should he switch seats as well? It’s not like he’s learning anyway, right?

That, and he had learned from someone that she had poor eyesight, something he inwardly winced at. This professor of theirs is not only soft spoken that he suspected only dogs could hear that decibel level but they also wrote in miniscule lettering. Nagtitipid ba ‘to ng space or what?

Despite their professors obvious flaws, it’s not worth exchanging seats, nope.

Actually, he'd prefer if he is seated two rows behind her just... because. That could mean a lot of reason, right? Not just the fact that his interest on her grew each passing day, nope. Maybe it could mean that he just doesn't want to answer the professor's questions or maybe it could mean that he wanted to play mobile games discreetly.

See, there could be a lot of reasons he could make up on why he always always chose to sit on the fifth row, left wing of the room, second chair to the aisle and no, it's not because he had been staring at the girl with ridiculously huge glasses that it framed half of her face, weird hair style that could use just a little bit of brushing or iron- whichever she prefers, no judgment there- and a permanent glare that often sends people running to the opposite side of the room or- from what he had heard, gives them the ominous chill (trademarked) that often gets associated with psychopaths.

Truthfully, the moment he had set foot in this department, there had already been rumors circulating around and more often than not, it sounds terrible and paints her a not so good image.

But if she were terrible, he mused, his head unconsciously tilting. Then shouldn't she be shunned instead? From what he could tell, she had at least three friends by her side. And from what he had gathered, two of those friends of hers happen to have good reputation for themselves, in terms of academics that is. Though, it’s not like she’s a problematic student when it comes to academics, that he could see. But perhaps, her reputation as someone unapproachable painted her in a bad light.

So which among her rumors are true then? Oh how he wis-

Before he could even spiral down his thoughts, he could feel a sharp jab to his side making him glare at the person beside him who had this annoying knowing look on his face.

"Baka matunaw," his friend gently warned, chuckling at the automatic eye roll he had earned from him. "Seriously, CJ, you're wasting your time with that fleeting interest of yours." he continued, knowing what- or rather, who's consuming his thoughts.

Cj hummed, a small smile slowly creeping across his mouth albeit the annoyed expression he is currently sporting. "Who said anything about fleeting interest?"

His friend's amused expression quickly morphed into bemusement, exasperation seeping through his eyes. "I'm telling you this now, nothing good will come if you associate yourself with her. I'm trying to save you from becoming the object of her piercing glare."

"She's not Medusa, you know."

"She might as well be,"

Scoffing, he jerked his head slightly towards the girl who had been sitting beside their subject who is now being engaged into a small talk.

"See, hindi naman nagiging bato si ate girl na kausap niya." he argued, earning a small groan from his friend. "Makes me wonder... do you think I won't turn into stone if it were me to talk to her?"

His friend stared at him for a bit, shoulders shrugging in defeat as he heaved out a sigh. Sometimes, he just couldn’t understand what goes in his friend’s mind. "You're going to talk to her nevertheless, aren't you?"

Grinning, he let out a small chuckle. "Better yet, I'm gonna befriend her."

-=-

"The first time I saw you," she jumped at the suddenness of his voice as she stared at Rianne's speaker, wondering if it was one of those possessed shit they usually see in horror movies. (How many times had she been telling her roommate that owning shit like this would most likely result to haunting? Or worse, possession?)

"You were an urban legend. People don't like you because of your piercing gaze. Kala nga nila nun you were the embodiment of Medusa."

The fucker had the audacity to laugh. What the fuck. If it weren't for the fact that she didn't know where he lived, she would've choked him to death. She could only imagine his amused look as he record this shitty of a commentary.

"My friends told me not to get involved. They told me I'm wasting my time. And siguro, at the time I do like challenges or maybe it's because I'm bored but I told them I'm gonna befriend you."

"You, out of all the people enrolled in Doc Hina's class."

-=-

Now Playing: Fine Time 0:13──ㅇ─────3:02

I hope we could spend more time together, a few hours is better than never. If we could only make it longer, a whole day would be fine.

"Nandito ka na naman?" oh if looks could only kill, he would've been six feet under by now.

They really weren't kidding about how her glare could pierce even the sturdiest material known to man, huh? But of course, what an exaggeration it was for how can he still be alive with all the glares she had thrown his way?

Or baka masamang damo lang talaga ako, he mused as he gave her his most charming grin (try: annoying shit eating grin that could most likely earn him a punch or two) as he sat down next to her, waving to their silent audience of one (the same girl who he learned was a dear friend of Monique) who looked all too amused with what was going on.

"Didn't I say I was gonna see you again soon?" he asked in response to her question albeit her rude tone. "And besides, I did say that I wanted to be your friend and friends hang out so..." he purposely dragged his words as he gestured to the review materials he had oh so graciously placed on their table.

Looking at her, his expression morphed into an all too pleading one. "...let me review with you?"

"No." not even missing a beat, she gave him her most deadpanned look as she went back to reading while at his peripheral view, Rianne's mouth pressed into thin line, obviously hiding her amusement at the on-going conversation.

Normally, this is where people usually give up, retreating with their tails tucked in between their legs but not him. If anything, this had just spurred him to do better.

And do better, he shall.

"Ah but as you can see," he purposely let out a small sigh, earning a raised eyebrow from the girl across them while Monique simply ignored him. "All of the tables are occupied and yours is the only one that could accommodate one more person."

"So?"

"I'm saying wouldn't it be better for you guys to share this table since you still have space and all?"

"Both of us are claustrophobic. Adding one more person to this table is an invasion of our personal bubble."

A small snicker in front had her jerking her knee to kick her friend on her shin, causing the table to jerk slightly.

Staring at the unbothered girl, he decided to lean forward, catching her attention as she looked up at him partly surprised and partly annoyed. "Didn't you just hear what I said? What part of it did you not understand?"

"The part where you said you were both claustrophobic. Why, if I recall correctly, don’t you two hug on a regular basis as a form of greeting? So, hindi ba ‘invasion of personal bubble’ yung ginagawa niyo?" he asked, making her eyes widen. For a second there, he swore he had seen one of her eyes twitched at his remark but maybe that was just a trick of the light?

Gotcha.

Her jaw dropped as her eyes squinted in suspicion. "Were you watching us? Are you a fucking creep?"

"I was merely pointing out my observation. Besides, creepy na ba agad kung lagi niyong ginagawa yun sa public space?" he countered as he leaned back, mouth curling into a smug smile when he saw her falter with her words.

"Yes it's creepy," she fired back, her reading materials now abandoned in favor of him. "No one would willingly watch random people go about with their daily activities. Especially not with us."

"Why's that?" he hummed as he placed his elbow on top of the table, cheek resting on his palm. "Look, I just want to sit with you guys, is that too much of a bother?"

"Yes. Kanina ka pa sagabal, actually. Learn to take a hint, will you?" waving her hands in a shooing motion, she then gave him a scathing look. "So please lang, pwede bang lumayas ka na? We're not comfortable with having a stranger sit with us."

"Why didn't you say so? "Yun lang naman pala eh." Brightening, he managed to find his opening as his hand straight up took hers, vigorously shaking it. "The name's Christian pero hindi ako mabait eh so just call me Cj."

Oh how he wished he had his camera with him. With the stunned look on her face, he could only imagine her thoughts are filled with nothing but curses and questions about his sanity and audacity. He had a feeling that he had been pushing his luck since the beginning but what he had just done would be the reason for his demise.

Lord, baka naman gusto mo akong tulungan dito. Kakapakilala ko lang sa kanya masyadong maaga pa kung kukunin niyo na ako after nito.

Just before she could even open her mouth- probably to shout at him (or kill him, whichever comes first), her friend had beaten her to it.

"Well, well..." they both turn their heads towards their audience, her eyes twinkling in delight as her eyes shifted her gaze from their faces towards their interlocked hands, her mouth curling into an amused smile. "Mukhang nakahanap ka na ng katapat mo, Monique." she commented, sending her a knowing look before nodding at him in acknowledgment as she went back to her studies.

He could feel the hostility from his side softening as he turned his attention back to her only to see her snatch her hand from his as she grumbled underneath her breath.

"This means nothing, Christian na hindi mabait. You're still a stranger to us."

Letting out a small sigh of relief, he could feel himself relaxing as he discreetly looked up with shit eating grin plastered on his face. She's saying that now but wait till he charms her! Oh but first things first...

The best ka talaga, Lord!

-=-

"So ayun, I was on a mission to be your friend. Kaso langya naman Monique, you make it so hard to approach you!" she couldn't help the small giggles escaping before her hand slapped over her mouth in an attempt to control it. "Sana masaya ka at nagmukha akong desperado nung mga panahong gusto ko lang naman makitable sa inyo."

"Ang hirap grabe. Though, I guess it could be karma because- well, the intention sprouted from boredom but then, when you finally talked to me? Shet, kaya mo akong sabayan. And I couldn't help but think, the best nga talaga si Lord for giving me persistence otherwise, I wouldn't have known what an awesome person you are."

-=-

Now Playing: Asan ka na ba? 0:23 ──ㅇ─────── 3:55

Nasa'n ka na ba, maghihintay nga ba? Para 'kong tangang nalulungkot sa wala

"Ay wow, it looks like the elusive prince charming had finally graced us his presence," one of his friends bellowed as the rest hollered while the others laughed boisterously, making him raise his eyebrows at their antics. "Quick, somebody give him a drink before he change his mind!"

"Or worse, might bail on us cause his girlfriend came calling!"

Another round of laughter ensued as they continue enumerating possible causes why he couldn't be with them.

"Mamaya niyan di pala kasi alam ng jowa niya na andito siya!" Taking a seat next to his friend, he smacked the back of his head, rolling his eyes as he shot a glare towards him. "The fuck you're going on about, Rob? Hinay hinay lang sa kakainom, pwede ba? Kakarating ko lang at ayokong umalis nang maaga."

"Oh dear lord, there's two of them!" someone in the background laughed at Rob's statement, making him frown. Was there an inside joke that he failed to understand? "Totoo pala yung nakukuha mo yung mannerisms ng jowa pag palagi kayong magkasama no?"

Staring at his inebriated friend, he gave him a lopsided grin as he slung his arms over his shoulder, offering him a glass to which Cj downed in seconds.

With the company he's with? He'd definitely needed more than just a glass of beer. "Speak clearly, Rob. What's with you guys and this girlfriend nonsense? Ano, nag materialize bigla jowa ko out of nowhere?"

Letting out a small tsk, Rob looked at him as if he was deciding if he was joking or not. "You're still sober," he mused, flagging a passing waiter for another round of drinks. "Di mo ba pansin na you kept ditching us to hang out with that little girlfriend of yours? Sana pinapakilala samin no? Whatever happened to us being your ride or die? Grabe, nagkagirlfriend lang and suddenly you have no time for us, shame."

Scoffing, he shrugged off his arm from his shoulder, reaching over for another glass, flipping the drunken man the finger. "One, sinong may sabing girlfriend ko siya? Di ba pwedeng maging friends ang opposite sex? Two, that one time I hadn't been able to come, ditching na agad yun? And three, di ba pwedeng busy lang?"

"Busy pursuing that medusa girl!" someone from their circle piqued to which he easily shot a glare at, making her cackle before shrinking to her seat.

"Oh god there's really two of them!"

"Are you sure sa mga desisyones mo sa buhay, Christian?!"

"Can you guys stop with the medusa jokes already? I swear, para kayong mga bata- just because there had been rumors surrounding the person, does it make it alright for you to call her names?" his voice had started to raise but with the chuckles emerging from different sides of the room, he couldn't press down the annoyance bubbling within him.

"So would you rather us call her your girl instead?"

"Mukhang ganun na nga, he hadn't been correcting us ever since we started the girlfriend jokes!"

"Ah so should we refer to her as The girlfriend, ganern?"

"The chosen one!"

"Guys, ano ba?" he bit off, gritting his teeth as the rest of them kept on hollering. "Enough already."

"Wait, wait! I think I have one more- ang nagpatibok sa tigang puso ni Christian!"

"That's a fucking mouthful! What if-"

"Enough!" he bellowed, the noise surrounding the group slowly faded as he looked at them in the eye. "My god, tama na pwede ba? You guys are adults so fucking act like one."

The silence was too deafening as all eyes of the room fell on him. Can he blame them? It was a bit out of character for him to be pissed over something he could've laughed off.

Why was he pissed anyway? There's nothing wrong with what they were saying, he could've denied everything they were playfully accusing him.

"You're awfully too easy to rile this evening, Ceej," James’ voice cut the tension down as he turned to meet his gaze. "Katuwaan lang 'to, we're not trying to imply something. Unless..."

"Unless nothing," he cut him off harshly to which the other man shrugged off before turning back to his companion as the buzzing noise slowly returned until they all went back to their respective conversations as if what had transpired did not happen at all.

"Aight," Rob's voice is surprisingly calm coming from someone who had been too close to being inebriated few minutes ago. "What was that all about?"

He knew that outburst would pique his friend's curiosity and knowing Rob, drunk or not, he wouldn't just let it go without getting the answers he wanted.

"Nothing," even so, it couldn't hurt to try and deflect the man from getting the answers he wanted but seeing the disbelieving look on his face, Cj rolled his eyes before swiping another drink to drown himself into. Can't he get drunk any faster? "Look, it just doesn't feel right to hear that the person I've befriended's being called different names. And I wouldn't want any misunderstanding that may evolve into rumors, okay?"

He didn't know what's more unsettling, the stares or the prolonged silence, and so groaning, he turned to meet his gaze. "What?"

Humming, his friend had the audacity to smirk before reaching for another glass- looks like them leaving earlier than expected is inevitable after all. "You're playing a dangerous game, Ceej. Especially since you're unaware of it."

Their staring game seemed to reach for an impasse as Cj took the glass out of his reach, prompting him to stand up. "You've had your fill now," he announced, pushing the man to stand up. "Tara na bago pa tayo palayasin dito."

Shaking his head, the inebriated man let out a small satisfied hum. "Are you sure you can see it through?" he slurred, making Cj freeze.

"What the fuck are you going on about now?"

"Hmm... I wonder."

If only this bar prohibited fist fights, he would've punched him already. Well, he still can- it's just that, he had already caused one awkward situation, it would be embarrassing to start another one.

"Robert, I swear-"

"Just... be careful, dude." Rob cut him off, slinging his arms once more over his shoulder as Cj began walking beside him. "As much as I wanted to see you humiliate yourself on a daily basis, I'd rather you not get hurt."

-=-

"My friends weren't exactly the perceptive type. Well, not like Rianne," by the time his voice came around, she had gotten a bit comfortable, chin tucked over a pillow she had been hugging as she listened. "So imagine mo, they had been teasing me ever since I began spending my time with you. You know the drill- they think I had hots over you cause I've been putting too much effort in being your friend."

"I think I even caused a scene because I've been vehemently denying all their teasing kasi hindi ba pwedeng maging magkaibigan ang magkaibang kasarian? My god." hearing the exasperated tone from him had her fighting off a smile before dropping it completely. How was it that he keeps having that effect on her? "But you know what, Monique? They were on to something," he let out a small shuddering sigh.

"And that scared me."

-=-

Now Playing: Upuan

1:38 ───ㅇ───── 4:32

Isang tingin mo lang hanggang dun na lang ako.

Minsan, nakakabadtrip din ang pagiging isang overthinker.

Isipin mo yun, he rarely uses his brain for the things that required critical thinking like say, school works, perhaps? Tas bigla bigla na lang sasabay ang pagooverthink mo sa mga bagay na di naman dapat pagtuunan ng pansin like say, feelings.

So yes, nakakabadtrip ang pagiging overthinker. And he is definitely not amused.

And yet, here he was, lying eagle spread just at the corner of the campus' quad, staring blankly at the clear skies, head empty except for thoughts about certain... things.

Well, to be more precise, a certain person.

Were his thoughts useless? Never. Thinking about his friends had never been useless, not to him anyway. It's just that, when feelings are involved then that perhaps is where things get useless.

Emotions, he came to realize, are trivial thing. You either feel, or you don't. And the last time he checked, emotions aren't tied with friends- not the emotions that would give you reason to overthink, anyway.

Friends... are there during happy moments, and they are also there whenever you needed someone to lean on during your lowest.

At least, that's how he see it.

So. What's up with these stray thoughts, then?

Thoughts wherein he'd suddenly have this urge to pull her close, to reach for her even when she's just a few steps away. Maybe these urges flare up when she's just... right there.

And maybe, he'd always acted upon these urges whenever he had the chance, always justifying it by saying it's crowded at the hallways or if the situation calls for it, in the pretext that he was just looking out for her safety whenever they were walking just along the sidewalk.

Sometimes, his straying thoughts weren't always about subtle touches. Sometimes, it's about how their gazes lingered more than necessary during these past few days- perhaps even more than how she looked at that up and coming professor.

And if his brain is feeling too productive, his thoughts might even waddle over the fact that she had finally started to open up to him, filling him with blooming hope that all his efforts had finally started to come to fruition- something he couldn't understand himself.

See? Useless, useless things.

Ah, he should be preparing for his next class. Hell, he should be worrying about the difficulty of the exam he hadn't bothered studying for. ("Bakit mo ba lolokohin sarili mo, hmm?" a little voice at the back of his head whispered.)

And yet, here he was. Consumed by nothing but these conflicting emotions that he could only feel whenever she's-

"Huy! Christian! What the fuck are you doing just lying there?" Startled, he found his view being blocked by Monique, the expression on her face looked like a mix of weirded out and flat out concerned for his sanity. "Di naman sa nangaano, ha? Pero mukha kang mas tanga than usual."

He didn't think that such combination of expressions exist and most importantly, he didn't think she'd be able to pull it off- ah, Jesus Christ. What on earth has been happening to him?

"I'm resting, can't you see?" he found himself answering as his free hand patted the space next to him, earning a bemused expression from her.

"You do realize we have class in like, five minutes, right?" chuckling, she began nudging him with her foot, making him reach out to her free hand, pulling her next to him.

Her landing just right to his chest, an oof escaping her lips had his mind screaming how bad of an idea it was to pull her in without thinking the consequences.

Is it just him or is it becoming hotter than usual?

"Why bother showing up for an exam when you know you're gonna fail anyway?" he mumbled, clearing his throat. Is he coming off with a flu? Right in the middle of summer season?

Laughing, she shoved him off as she stood up, offering her hand for him to take. "Uh-huh, wag mo akong idamay sa mga kalokohan mo, pwede ba?"

Looking up, he couldn't help his breath hitching just as his eyes met hers, the light surrounding her had gone seemingly brighter, the chatter around them becoming nothing but pleasant white noise.

Ah, shit.

-=-

"Alam ko naman na may pag ka-goldfish ang memory mo so I wouldn't bother asking you to remember but there was a time- out of all our campus' quad shenanigans- when you found me lying on the grass and you said- and I quote, 'mas mukha kang tanga than usual'," his voice came out light and airy as if he was trying to be nonchalant about it but something within her tells her that he's been all too consumed by the memory.

'You're wrong', she'd want to interrupt him before he could even feel melancholic about the memory. 'I remember that time all too well.'

"Ang di mo alam, I was too far up in my headspace that time. Too busy overthinking things and you know that nothing good comes with overthinking, di ba? But there I was 'nagmumukhang mas tanga than usual' because I've been too busy thinking of our dynamics." furrowing her eyebrows, she looked over Rianne's speaker with an unreadable expression on her face, willing for the sentient object to sprout out answers.

What did he mean by that?

"And then bigla ka na lang umeksena as usual." aaand he is back with his playful tone. Goodness, Cj. Couldn't you be straightforward just for once? "Okay na sana eh kaso panira ka talaga, Monique! But... y'know, Ben and Ben were right- isang tingin mo lang, hanggang dun na lang ako."

-=-

Now Playing: Ikaw Lamang

0:10 ─ㅇ───────── 5:26

'di ko maintindihan ang nilalaman ng puso, tuwing magkahawak ang ating kamay. Pinapanalangin lagi tayong magkasama, hinihiling bawat oras kapiling ka.

"So nasaan ang anino mo ngayon? Mahina ba ang sinag ng araw?" the suddenness of Rianne's voice had him freezing in his tracks, eyes widening as he looked up only to sigh in relief when he saw the two girls seated a table away from the bookshelf beside him.

"The fuck you're talking about, di ba ayaw mong naarawan ka?"

Maybe it had been a few days since he last interacted with them for how could a simple statement from the girl he had been unconsciously hiding from had his heart beating wildly against his chest?

God, how could her voice affect him that much? Granted, it was simply her usual fuck off tone.

"I swear, I'm surrounded by idiots," he could hear the rolling of Rianne's eyes as she muttered, the sound of rhythmic tapping can be heard between the two friends as silence followed, the shift in the air had became a little bit palpable. "Did something happen between the two of you kasi for some unknown reason, ang lawak ng table and I've already took out all of my reviewers, plus my laptop."

Stifling a laugh, despite Rianne's complaints of how he took up the space when he began joining them at their table, she still let him have the space next to Monique whenever he's around.

"Not that I'm complaining," her voice brought him out of his musings. "But for some reason, ah how do I say this? Parang you looked as if may kulang sa’yo? If that ever make sense."

His head perked up. He wasn't the type to eavesdrop on others' conversation, this he swore. In fact, those two girls loved rumors more than he did. It's just that, when it comes to Monique, he just couldn't help but stop and listen.

There's always something about her that had him stopping in whatever he's doing and just listen... whether the rumor be bad or not. He liked to think he always wanted to see for himself if they were true or not.

Making himself comfortable by slumping against the bookshelf he had so graciously hid himself from them, he waited for Monique's inevitable scoff, all too aware he had pissed her off with how she tried to brush off her friend's prying earlier.

Hearing a scoff, he let out a small grin as if celebrating a small victory. Whoop, there it is.

"The hell? Tignan mo nga, sinisiksik mo na ako sa dulo oh. Paano mo nasabi na may kulang pa?" Ah, these two. It will always be live entertainment so long as he hang out with them, won't it?

Shuffling could be heard at the other side, making him wonder if they had engaged in a playful fight that had him wishing he's in Rianne's position instead of sitting against the cold floor.

"So, ano nga?" he heard Rianne probed after rounds of shuffling and giggling had subsided between the two of them. "Where's that giant of a shadow-"

"Ewan ko, okay?" Monique snapped, earning a sudden bout of silence between the two of them. He didn't need to be there to see the suddenness had startled Rianne as it did to him. "Sabihin mo nga sakin, may ginawa ba akong masama sa kanya or anything for that matter or something na nakakaoffend na bigla na lang siya mang-g-ghost? May nang-g-ghost ba na kaibigan? Ha?"

Just as she had uttered the last line, collective 'shhs' can be heard throughout the area, making her huff in annoyance as he could imagine her shrinking to her seat while her friend gave her an amused look.

Oh how he wanted to see it all. How tempting it must be to give himself away if it weren't for his curiosity getting the best of him.

"Well, well..." he could feel his heart dropping as he heard Rianne perk up, immediately sensing that whatever it is that is about to leave the girl's lips would not help his case. "'Ghost' isn't a term I would use. Try mo 'drop'. As in din-rop ka niya as a friend."

For the first time in his twenty something years, the urge to commit murder had never felt so strong.

"Ikaw ba ay nangiirita or nagc-comfort?"

"...both? I think both. Okay, wait. Seryoso na." the fucker had the audacity to laugh. Which method of murder best suit her? "Again, my statement stands. You guys are both idiots." The sound of Monique's muted protest tells him the fucker had flicked his friend's forehead.

"Rianne, isa." Monique warned, earning a tsk from her. "Can’t you just go and I dunno, fuck off for a few minutes or so?”

“Sure. But answer me this first, bakit affected ka?” she asked immediately before Monique could even put another word in. “You, who gave no flying fuck towards other people has become suddenly affected by a single dude who just upped and left… or so you say.”

Furrowing his eyebrows, he craned his neck onto the bookshelf as silence engulfed the two. Despite his murderous intent towards Monique’s friend, he had to admit that this girl is scarily perceptive of the people around her. She could be really dangerous when she put her mind to it, making people face the things they hide from.

As the silence dragged on, he heard a sigh from the other side, making him perk up as he anticipated for his friend’s answer.

He had to know if she could sense that something is indeed brewing between them- those lingering stares, the accidental brushes, the prolonged skin contact, and the comfortable silence in between.

He had to know, did they mean anything to her? Did they even mean something or had he been just imagining it?

Was it a wishful thinking? Or was it all just lost in the translation?

It wasn’t as if he intentionally put his distance between him and her. It’s just that… for the past few weeks, there’s always a cloud of confusion looming above him as he found himself hanging out more and more with her.

And in his typical way of understanding the situation, he had to step back and try and see the bigger picture but in doing so, he may have unintentionally… ghosted her, as she said. But was it wrong? Had he been wrong in choosing himself? Choosing to understand what has been happening to him?

Never had he been the type to be mindful of people. Not that he cared about their opinions but with her, it’s different.

Hence, the urge to eavesdrop had never been so strong.

“I’m not.” Never had he heard Monique use a somber tone before and for some unknown reason, it made him nervous. Had something happened when he was lost in his thoughts?

Had Rianne took it too far this time? Does Monique need him to save her from her own friend?

“I’m not affected, Rianne.” He heard her repeat her words, this time with conviction- as if she’s pleading for someone to believe her. “I don’t give a flying fuck to anyone and that won’t change, even if it’s him.”

Ah. He should’ve expected this. He should’ve known better.

Was it just him or had the silence between had gotten a bit heavier? Was this a sign to come clean and come out of his hiding place, facing the wrath of not one, but two crazies? Or was this his cue to leave with his dignity intact? What dignity? he scoffed inwardly.

“I see,” before he could even decide his next course of action, Rianne had once again filled the silence between them. Was he reading too much or had he picked up the disappointment from her voice? “So be it then.”

Ah. For some reason, everything hurts.

Clutching his chest, he let out a muted laugh as he bowed his head.

So be it then.

-=-

"Confession time," for some unknown reason, his voice was breathless and-Jesus Christ, why does it affect her so much that she had to pause the godforsaken music player as she took a minute to compose herself.

The air conditioning unit is functioning well, right? So how come she could still feel the heat creeping through her face as she clutched her chest, willing for her heart to stay still.

'My goodness, Monique. Pwede bang huminahon ka kahit saglit?' She silently berated herself. 'Ano na naman ang naiisip mo, ha?'

Pressing play, the next words that came out of the speakers had her sobering. "Sometimes, I accidentally find myself wandering into the middle of your and Rianne's conversations." he what now? "At nang dahil sa inyong dalawa, natuto akong makinig sa mga usapan na di naman dapat pinapakinggan."

That little shit! Panic bloomed into her chest. Just how many conversations did he stumble upon? Did he stumble upon all of them??

"Yung pinaka tumatak sakin was the one where you told Rianne that I 'friend ghosted' you." oh god. "And I think an apology was overdue, don't you think? Monique, I didn't mean to. Please believe me, it wasn't my intention."

"But for the sake of my sanity, I had to." he let out a small bitter chuckle. "I had to step back so I could listen to what my heart was whispering about."

-=-

Now Playing: Lihim

1:04 ───ㅇ─────── 3:56 'Di mo ba nakikita sa isip mo'y ibang-iba, damdamin ko'y 'di madama

Did he miss something?

Knowing Monique, he knew just how petty she can be whenever she wanted to but this… this is a new type of pettiness that even he was not expecting for her to do.

Of all the things she could've done, he was definitely not expecting to see a cardboard cut-out of a random Korean dude occupying the large space he had claimed for himself at their table.

Looking across the cardboard cut-out, he met Rianne's amused stare, biting her upper lip to avoid laughing boisterously all the while her gaze shifted towards the unbothered girl sitting beside the cardboard cut-out.

"Mawalang galang na ho," he started, earning a scoff from Monique making him frown. Yep, she's still pissed. "Pero parang meron po yatang naligaw na bantay ng mall dito or sadyang nakaw to?" he couldn't help the helpless tone coming out of him that he had to look at Rianne for enforcement, the girl cringing as she shook her head as if she couldn't believe the words coming out of his mouth, bowing her head in the process as her shoulder shook in silent laughter.

Gee, thanks a lot, Rianne. Ano pa bang silbi mo dito? Really. He would've dissed the girl more if it weren't for Monique's sharp turn of head, her eyes wide in offense, mouth curling into one of her deadliest sneers, nostrils flaring with undisputed anger.

The fuck did he do now?

"Excuse me?" she drawled out, her tone lowering as chills began to creep into the back of his neck. "Bantay ng mall? Nakaw?" she repeated his words, genuinely affronted all the while their audience of one is shaking uncontrollably and yet, they paid her no attention to.

"…hindi ba?" oh how he hated her effect on him. Asan na ngayon ang tapang mo, Cj? How was it that the mere slight of change of her tone had him cowering in fear? Was this the power of guilt? "I mean-"

"Out."

What?

Meeting her steely gaze, she gestured for him to leave and find another table to study on. "Namumuro ka na ah. First, you dare befriend us and then had the audacity to ghost us-"

"-Why am I being dragged into this?" Rianne deadpanned as she composed herself when she saw the fight between them wasn't going to escalate.

"-then you go and diss my man sitting beside me? How dare you? Fuck off. Layas. Humanap ka ng bagong table dahil di ka dito welcomed." Monique finished off, completely ignoring the bewildered look from his face.

"Teka, teka, teka- you mean to say, this guy is my replacement?" he couldn't help raising his tone as he turned from Monique to the dude with wide eyed innocent look, and a hint of small curl of his lips— what, is that supposed to be tantalizing? (seryoso, sinong matinong guard ang magpapapasok ng estudyanteng may dalang ganyan?) and looked back to Monique who looked at him, challengingly.

"Seriously? You replaced me— who, by the way, had some issues that needed resolving that's why I was gone for a while- with some fucking cardboard guy na pwede nang maging bantay ng stall sa mall? How on earth did you even manage to bring that thing inside the campus without anyone questioning your sanity?"

If he was in the right state of mind, he would've known better than to speak his mind about the cut-out but it's been days- weeks, even since he last seen and talked to his friend.

Was it that bad that he'd want to have her attention on him? So excuse his lack of tact, thank you very much and yet, it seemed that Monique has yet to perfect telepathic communication as she just stared at him with that offended look on her face, snarling at him as if he had just declared himself as anti-fan of whoever the fuck is that dude sitting beside her.

"You're dead to me." Monique spat as she huffed, standing up as she gathered her things making his eyes widen as he shot a helpless look to Rianne only for her to gesture her head towards Monique, silently urging him to act fast.

And act fast he did.

Without thinking, his arms reached out towards her, wrapping them both around her arms, effectively caging her and preventing her from leaving them.

"Let me go." she gritted her teeth, squirming from his hold.

Holding her this close, he could feel the warmth emitting from her despite the coldness of the library. He didn't know if it was because it had been weeks since he last saw her but the overwhelming need to snuggle closer to her had never been this strong.

"Never." he breathed out, acting upon instinct as he pulled her closer. Was it just him or did she gotten warmer? If only they could stay like this for even just a little longer then maybe he might be able to-

"Okay ang cringe," Monique suddenly declared, pulling him out of his reverie as she shuddered in his hold. "Jesus Christ, Cj sang lupalop ka ba napunta at bigla kang naging ganyan? Yung totoo, did you ghost us just so you could read your Wattpad stories in peace? Alam mo naman na tanggap ka namin ano man ang hilig mo, right?"

The small protest in the background about being dragged into the middle of this had gone unnoticed as he watched her twist against his hold.

Looking straight in her eyes, he knew for a fact that her anger towards him had slowly melted but just to be safe, he untangled one arm from her, raising it to flick her forehead, earning a small cry from her.

"Guard, may nakawalang baliw na naman po oh." he grinned as he watched her nose scrunched in annoyance, breaking herself free from his hold as she pushed him half-heartedly.

"Guard, may bastos po oh." she fired back, making his jaw drop in mock offense as he pointed to himself to which she nodded at with that playful annoyance displayed on her face.

Oh how he missed their playful banter.

Just as he was about to retort, he watched as her eyes widen in surprise as she ducked her head, turning away from him. What just happened? And was that- did Monique seriously blushed just now?

Before he could even comment on it, he felt the air behind him whoosh, making him turn to see what had caused his friend to act weirdly only for his stomach to drop.

She couldn't possibly, right? There's no way in hell was she acting all shy up when the university's basketball varsity team had just passed by.

Turning back, he could feel the dread rising up when he saw Rianne's amused expression had turned sympathetic towards him.

He could feel the cold seeping through his fingers, not caring as he snatched a chair from the neighboring student's hold, crying out a small protest to which he paid no mind at as he sat down next to Monique, the cardboard cut-out guy had been long forgotten.

"What the hell was that?"

"None of your business. Mag aral ka dyan."

If she thought he was going to drop it, then she didn't know him that well. But she did know him and he knew that she knew he wouldn't just simply drop the topic.

"So sino dun?" he didn't know that he could physiologically feel pain just by saying random things. "Sino sa mga higante ang nagpapatibok sa iyong malamig at patay na puso?"

Sending him a half-hearted glare, she let out an exasperated sigh. "First of all, hindi pa patay ang puso ko. Nakikita mo ba ang bebe Yoseob ko?" she gestured at the cardboard cut-out guy beside her making him roll his eyes. "Two, bakit parang may hinanakit ang tono mo? Hindi lahat ng babae nagkakandarapa sa'yo, we've talked about that already."

Why would I care about their attention when I only wanted yours? He wanted to protest but with the way her eyes twinkled just at the sight of the guy, he just couldn't find the courage to.

"And three, para sa ikakatahimik ng kaluluwa mo, his name is Adam and no, he's just a happy crush. Okay na? Happy?"

Flashing her a sarcastic smile, he dumped his bag on top of the table slightly harder than normal. "Very much so."

-=-

"Sa lahat ng babaeng kilala ko, ikaw yung pinakatopakin, alam mo ba yun?" his tone had gone softer- fonder, dare she even say. And if he were here, she would've probably opened her mouth to retaliate-- no, scratch that, she WILL retaliate. "Opps, wait. Alam kong kating kati ka dyan mangaway, patapusin mo muna ako, pwede? Perfect ka?"

Letting out a small laugh, she couldn't help but press pause as she looked at the speaker with her own fond look flashing across her face.

Ah, Cj. I wonder how you're doing now.

Shaking her head, she let the tape continue where it left, savoring the words that came out of his mouth.

"It's not necessarily a bad thing. Siguro, pahamak lang. Remember the time where you snuck in some cardboard cut-out of some random korean guy sa library just cause you overheard my friends that I'd be coming to share a table with you guys?" Fighting a grin, her eyes shifted towards the exact cardboard cut-out next to her closet. How could she ever forget? "It was so weird that I was torn between throwing that piece of cardboard out of my spot or if I should just find another table to sit on. Pero syempre, support lang tayo sa kaibigan natin gaano pa ka-weirdo sila, di ba?"

'Tangina, matapos lang talaga tong tape na 'to, hahanapin talaga kita,' she vowed silently, ignoring the sudden clenching of her heart as she heard the last part of his comment.

"Being with you is quite the rollercoaster ride, Monique. Isipin mo, sa'yo ko lang naranasan maweirduhan, maging masaya, malungkot at matakot in a span of minutes."

"Is that a bad thing?" she found herself asking in time with his same question, their voices blending in chorus. Her hold on her pillow tightened as she waited in bated breath for his answer.

Humming, he let out a sigh. "I don't think so."

-=-

Now Playing: Di Bale Na Lang

1:12 ───ㅇ─────── 4:42 Hindi ko na alam kung makakaya ko pa, 'di bale na lang kaya

Is it just him or did his friend gained attention the past few weeks?

Well. There's nothing really wrong with gaining attention here and there- in fact, he's secretly hoping that the nasty rumors surrounding her would dissipate as time goes on and people get to see how true and great of a person she is.

Heaven knows she's a good person. Despite all the weird and aloof exterior she possess.

So really. He's all for supporting Monique with her newfound popularity. Though the thing is, what ticks him off was the fact that most of the attention she's gaining were of male population.

Yung totoo, Monique, pumunta ka ba ng Quiapo?

"Weren't you the one to say na ayaw mo sa mga exaggerated phrases?" Rianne's voice drifted somewhere behind him, cutting him off from his offhand rants that he didn't knew he was voicing out loud. "Kala mo naman ang dami dami ng competition with the way you're acting. Ano ka, boyfriend?" snickering, she gave him a side eye, making him cringe at how easily she had caught him.

"Oh wait, you haven't even confessed!" and now she's mocking him. Wow. The audacity. "So pray tell, bakit ka nagmumukmok dyan?"

Squinting his eyes, he let out a small groan. "Ano na naman ang pinagsasabi mo dyan?" it was a poor attempt to salvage the damage, that much he knows. And with the look she's giving him, he knew that she knew what he was doing yet, he didn't know why he even held on to the hope that this girl would pity him and let him have his dignity back.

Was it too much to ask for a little empathy? Then again, this was Rianne he was talking to. Her empathy towards him is little to none.

"Asus, patay malisya ka pa dyan when you've already outed yourself," letting a disapproving tsk, she continued despite the roll of eyes they threw at each other. "Like siguro five minutes ago pa. So again, bakit ka nagmumukmok dyan? Do you even have the right?"

"Don't you have an off switch somewhere? You're being extra annoying today." he gritted his teeth, glancing momentarily over her shoulder, narrowing his eyes before turning back to his abandoned laptop, fingers pressing the keyboard harder than necessary. "And di ba pwedeng maging reason kung bakit nagmumukmok yung tao ay dahil iniwan siya ng kausap niya in the middle of the conversation?" he snapped, earning a shake of her head.

Looking at her back, she let out a small scoff. "Dude, you do realize that she's just talking to the professor, right? I don't know what kind of scenario you've conjured in that petty head of yours pero I think-- and this is a crazy idea but hear me out, it's pretty much a violation of several codes of ethics to form a relationship outside of professional setting, especially one of professor to student."

"With Monique? Don't count that idea out." he muttered, earning a snicker from her, silently agreeing with him.

"Well," she drawled, leaning back on her chair, twirling her pen on one hand. "Kinky." she commented, laughing at the disgusted expression on his face. "While that may likely to happen, I don't think Professor's is the type to engage a relationship with a student so I guess that's one less of competition for you, huh? Shame. Was hoping for drama, at least."

"Why are you so adamant with this competition thing? Ano, are you really that bored that you just impose your imagination onto people? Pwede ba tigilan mo yan? That's not healthy."

"Harsh," she commented airily as if his comment hadn't fazed her. "Are you being like this because she cheered the loudest last week at that basketball game? Or perhaps, was it because you're not the sole focus of her attention these past few days?"

"Hah," he let out an exasperated sigh, his eyes flashing her an irritated look that had her mouth curling in a lazy smirk. "Stop psychoanalyzing me, psycho. Gaano ba ako ka-self-centered dyan sa utak mo that you think her shifting her attention to someone else had me in a bad mood?"

Shifting his eyes momentarily, the irritation he felt had somewhat grew just as the professor gestured for the newcomer to join his conversation with his student.

Feeling the shift on the mood, Rianne turned just in time to see the varsity that caught Monique's eyes reaching for her friend's hand, shaking it firmly, the growing smile on her friend's face didn't go unnoticed. "Just admit it, Cj. Mas lalo mo lang sinasaktan sarili mo the more you deny it." she found herself saying. "You're jealous."

"Me? Jealous?" his reply had been instantaneous as if he had been expecting her to say it their entire conversation. Shaking his head, he gave her the most serious look he could muster. "Di kaya."

-=-

"Did you know, may pagkademonyo yang kaibigan mo?" was it just her or did his tone changed into- how should she put it? Para bang nagsusumbong? "Wala siyang preno, Monique! Kung makapagsalita akala mo naman may karapatan siya no? Who does she think she is? My therapist? Please."

Jaw dropping, her eyebrows furrowed as she stared at the speaker with disbelief dancing through her eyes. He is! He really is complaining about Rianne!

She couldn't help the giggles escaping from her lips as she let him rant on. What did Rianne do this time? Not even trying to hide the smile creeping across her face, she sunk onto her bed, humming as she listened on.

"Just because she had my feelings figured out doesn't give her the right to call me out. At the end of the day, whatever I choose to do with my feelings should be my business and mine alone." his tone turned serious that had her frowning.

What? What exactly happened- that had him ranting like this? Did both of her dearest friends fought without her knowing? How come she hadn't heard about this? And why didn't they tell her?

Was she really out of the loop for so long that she had no idea what had been happening between the two people she considered dearest to her?

Is it just her or does it seem like her chest had been dumped with heavy bricks? Having half a mind to reach over for her phone and call her roommate, she was stopped on her tracks with Cj's next words.

"'Wag mo muna siyang tawagan, Monique. She and I didn't fight, if that's what you're thinking-- and I know you, lods. Whatever you're thinking, get rid of it. It was just the usual jab and bickering. It was a passing thought." Just how did he do that?

How is he quick to reassure her when she's far from him? When he couldn't even see her reaction? How does he know what she's going to do when they haven't even talked for a while now?

"Although, don't tell her this but she's right," mumbling the last part, she had to strain her ears to hear him, pausing it for a bit and rewinding the last part in disbelief.

Is the world ending?

"The more I deny, the more I hurt myself, yeah. I learned that the hard way. But as for her accusation?" he let out an exaggerated scoff. "Nope. Di bale na lang, talaga."

-=-

Now Playing: Balang Araw 0:58 ──ㅇ────── 4:52 Baka pwede lang kahit isang saglit, masabi lang na merong konting pagtingin

Head buzzing, ears ringing, the flitting sound of chatters and jazz music had all became nothing but muted as he came bearing to his senses, realizing his body had not been the only one that had slumped over the table helplessly.

What the fuck?

Blinking blearily, he finally became well too aware of the heat radiating from the body next to him, just as helpless and blissfully unaware like him.

Groaning, his face scrunched as he tried to fight the headache that had been pounding its way into his brain as he tried to remember what the fuck had happened because from what he could vaguely recall, it wasn't just Monique who had been with him earlier this night.

Did… their so-called friends left them both alone in this fucking bar?

Did they seriously finally acted upon their threats of leaving their sorry asses be?

Again, what the fuck.

Wasn't it already established never to let the two of them alone when they eventually became too shitfaced of drunks? Who knows what could've happened- slowly jolting awake, the sinking feeling of what could've been had him sobering in an instant, eyes wide as he looked around his surroundings only to relax when the familiar sight of Rianne's kitchen greeted him.

While he appreciated her being considerate enough to offer her home to them, he vowed he'd get her back for scaring the shit out of him, knowing she had deliberately mimicked the ambiance of the bar they had went to just to get a rise out of him probably.

Why did he get drunk anyway?

As if she heard his thoughts, Monique's hand reached over, pulling his arm towards her head, seemingly looking for comfort as she let out what seemed to be satisfied sigh, a serene expression painting her face as she succumbed further into dreamland.

Fighting off a smile, his free hand went over as he brushed the stray hair that had fallen over her face, fingers tracing her cheek as he indulged himself. "Alam mo, ang amo amo ng mukha mo ‘pag tulog ka. Pwede bang ganito ka na lang palagi? You kinda don't look like the gremlin you are during the day." he found himself saying as the reason for their spontaneous happy hour finally came rushing back to him.

Oh. Right.

She had been gushing over the fact that whatshisface had finally noticed her. That her months of pining had actually come to fruition. Hah. As if.

It’s bad enough he had to compete for her attention during one of their classes because of that goddamned professor, now he had to compete for her attention outside of their class too? And to that motherfucking giant of all people? Hah.

And while she had been talking their friends' ears off with the possibilities with her possible beau, he found himself drowning in liver poison, hoping and praying the burning sensation leaving its wake could at least ease the burning feeling he had desperately repressed for so long, ignoring the pitiful stares he had been getting from Rianne.

Everything afterwards became all too blurry and hazy even for his sober self. What had happened after? He knew why he had gotten drunk but what about Monique? Why had she gotten drunk?

Granted, getting your crush to finally notice you after so long is a reason enough to celebrate but if his memory serves him right (90 percent guaranteed), then why in the world had she been all too sulky in the end?

He knew her. He knows her. Probably more than he could ever know himself. And the stages of drunk Monique that came out earlier had not been one of celebratory kind. If anything, it felt like- it felt more like… something he couldn’t put his finger into. Ah, he’s too drunk to over analyze shit.

"Kung madali lang ako mahalin, it wouldn't be as pathetic as it is to celebrate the fact that he had looked my way," he recalled her hiccuping those words albeit drunkenly. Her eyes had been all too wide, glistening with unshed tears that he had forced himself not to reach for.

"It's not pathetic," he found himself saying as his heart skipped, heartstrings being tugged as he found himself helpless. "Madali kayang magmahal. Madali ka namang mahalin eh."

There was a pause between them, too palpable to ignore. And with the way her expression slightly crumble, fumbling with her quivering lips, he knew she was holding back.

What was it? his eyes screamed. How can I make it all better?

"If I am easy to love then how come-" Forcing a smile upon her lips, she had been the first to avert her gaze- just as always.

It had always been like that. Just as he thought he was close to figuring out the enigma Monique is, she goes around and shied away, fleeing as if opening herself is a crime against humanity.

If it had been a different time, he would’ve left it be- after all, he never tried to pry into her life, not like Rianne who they all know is easy to confide into.

But this is different, he justified. She’s hurting because of some asshole. And he didn’t like it. Not one bit.

Does it hurt? Fuck yeah. But that doesn’t mean he had to stop caring for her. Not when she means the world to him.

“If you’re easy to love…?” He prompted, eyes pleading to-just this once- trust in him, confide in him.

He heard her swore, making him hide his glee knowing she could never deny him of anything.

“Madaya ka rin no?” Giving her a small victorious grin, he dared push his luck, nudging her slightly as if to encourage her. "Akala mo naman kung sinong gwapo. May nagsabi na ba sayo na ang sagwa kapag nagpapacute ka?"

Letting out a guffaw, he could feel his insides twist with glee when he saw small hint of smile upon her lips, nudging her forehead with his as he settled for a cheeky smile. "Excuse me, ang swerte mo sayo lang ako nagpapacute. Andaming nagkakarandarapa sa ngiti ko, huy."

Is it just him but for a moment there he saw something flash on her eyes but just as he was about to comment on it, how quickly it faded. Perhaps it was all wishful thinking? Perhaps a moment of weakness, something to hope for? Was it a trick of the light?

"Nako, parang hindi naman," she scoffed and for a moment, she had let the moment between them simmer before turning melancholic. "If I'm easy to love then why can't he?"

"Because he's a fool," he uttered automatically as if it was the answer to the world's most difficult question. "Because he's a fucking blind pole and a fucking idiot. Sabi sayo panget na jowain ang mga basketball players pero nakinig ka ba sakin? Hindi. Sheesh."

"I don't think that's it," she mumbled, shaking her head as if she's dismantling the idea he had planted on her head or perhaps- it looked as if she was disagreeing about something he had said which he inwardly scoffed at. There’s nothing wrong with his statement, right? "Because if it were then…"

Something in him wanted to push her further, to confide in him the way she could with Rianne. Despite his heart going crazy, it felt like he had to know the rest of the sentence. Even if it hurts. But looking at her bittersweet smile and the way her eyes turn glassy with contempt, he knew better than to. And so, with heavy heart, he had to drop their conversation, acting as if nothing hurts.

Letting out a shuddering sigh, he willed himself to forget that piece of memory. He should've forgotten that. Fuck.

Oh but he couldn't. His traitorous heart couldn't let him. Not when it comes to her.

"You're easy to love," he found himself whispering as if he is finally sharing a secret he held close, not really caring the numbing sensation from the arm she had stolen from him nor the fact that the walls probably have ears.

He had, after all, downed in liquid courage tonight and he'd be damned to let it slip.

Threading his fingers over her hair in the barest touch as possible, he dared continue. "You make it too easy to love you, Nic." Letting out a small nervous chuckle, his eyes softened as he stared at her. "Because if you weren't then how come I have been hopelessly and tremendously in love with you all these years?"

-=-

She had been too accustomed for his voice to come through the moment the song ended but for some reason, all she got was silence.

Eyebrows furrowing, she turned her head to check if the tape had finally stopped or heaven forbid, Rianne's vintage speaker had finally gotten possessed. Just as she was about to lean over, his shuddering sigh greeted her ears once more, making her jump in surprise.

"The fuck naman Cj," she muttered, clutching her chest to calm herself. "Pwede bang bigyan mo naman ako ng konting warning dyan?" her tone had been too light, talking as if he was there beside her but when the silence that followed became all too deafening, she couldn't help but feel all too worried.

Which is- silly, thinking about it. This was pre-recorded. Meaning, it's not exactly happening as of the moment. She didn't even know this was being made so why worry?

"Give me a few minutes, will ya?" his voice- muted and soft and if she would strain her ears more, she could've sworn she could hear the shakiness he had tried to suppress.

Was the song that too deep? Granted, she wasn't really much of a fan of the singer, going as far as referring to him as Abu Bukar (no offence, really. She's just bad with names.) but was there a reason- a story behind this particular song?

"Cj, please…" she whispered. "Pakigalaw ang baso, I don't fucking care if bigla na lang maging Conjuring set 'tong apartment namin. Come on, I need to know-- are you okay?"

"I'm fine," turning her head in record speed, she couldn't help the fear spiking through her (did she really jinx it? Is this the start of her horror story?) "I'm fine, Monique. I'm fine."

If she didn't know him any better, she'd say that this is a perfect demonstration of the concept of neuroplasticity: repetition matters but she did know him… maybe just as well as how much he knows her.

Just who are you trying to convince, Cj? Ako lang naman to, di ba?

"I don't really know what to tell you, so can I just sing the song again? Well, wala kang choice. I'll sing it again. Magtiis ka dyan."

Flashing the speaker a small, bitter smile, she couldn't help but close her eyes as the first note hit her ears, relishing the warm baritone voice he had always possessed, ignoring the cartwheels of her heart and the rampaging dinosaurs in her stomach.

Bakit ako magtitiis when all I wanted was to listen to you all day?

-=-

Now Playing: 214

1:33 ────ㅇ────── 4:41 'Cause time may pass, but longer than it'll last I'll be by your side

“Bakit ako?”

It was quiet.

He could hear her voice dropping as if she’s trying to retreat back into her own void, the one she had created solely for her not because she wanted to but because she had to, which is something he hadn’t understood the first few encounters he had with her but as they gradually became close, this was a notion he had learned he hated. It’s like… a piece of him dies every time she does this.

The shift in the air was palpable as the sounds around them had faded into muted noise, his head turning to look at her.

Taking his silence as an invitation to continue, she shifted into a more comfortable position, knees coming to her chest as she wrapped her arms around them.

“Bakit mo ako nilapitan? Bakit mo ako kinausap?” she dared ask and suddenly, the ground seemed more interesting to look at than the incredulous look plastered on his face. “I mean… I’m not one of the typical people you’ve hung out with. I’m not really like your people so… why me?”

He could see her spiraling.

Down… and down to her thoughts, with no way out and with nothing to hold on to. It’s dangerous, he kept warning her. She’d drown herself before she could even notice she had waddled in too deep but that’s okay.

That’s what he’s here for, anyway.

He didn’t know when it happened or how in the fucking world it was even possible but he knew. A self proclaimed self absorbed person like him knew her like a lifeline.

He knew her like the back of his hand. He could see her eyes glazing with heaviness as she slowly entertain the thoughts that lingered at the back of her mind before she could even notice herself, the way her breathing went shallow and how her usual boisterous voice became subdued.

Looking at her now, he couldn’t help the small smile creeping across his lips.

Not to be that person, but he’s fucking grateful he’s the only one who could see her like this.

The only person she trusted completely as she let her guard down.

Ano ka ngayon, Doria?

Ah the sweet sweet scent of victory knowing he had one upped that motherfucking giant of a varsity.

Though despite the sweet satisfaction, he knew he couldn’t let her continue to think of whatever negativity her mind had concocted- not if he wanted her to feel saddened and burdened and so he had to act fast.

Humming to himself, he nudged her slightly, garnering no change from her attention and so he nudged her continuously until she turned to him with slight annoyance painting her face as he grinned at her.

“You done being dramatic? My god, Monique! Drama ah. Nakainom ka na naman?”

“Cj naman! Kala ko ba seryosong usapan tayo dito?” She all but exclaimed, prompting people to stare at them momentarily to which they both ignored. Maybe having a heart to heart conversation like this shouldn’t be done in the campus quadrangle, he mused. But then again, it wasn’t like he was the first to approach the topic anyway.

If anything, he’s blaming Monique and her impeccable timing as usual but he’d rather keep this to himself if he wanted to live another day.

Huffing, she rolled her eyes at him before turning to stand only for him to pull her back down, making her slightly lose her balance as she sat back down next to him, leaving no space between them.

Eyes wide, she could feel the air being sucked away from her as she stared at his eyes- those warm brown eyes blown wide with mischief and mirth dancing upon them, his mouth curling into cheshire grin as if he is offering every solution to her unending questions.

For a moment, it felt like the world around them had stopped just for the two of them. Dare he even say, it felt like time had stopped just for them.

Is this… is this normal?

Before she could even comprehend what was happening, she watched as he ducked his head closer to hers, his forehead coming up to gently nudge hers.

“Silly girl,” is it because of the mood or had his voice dropped a few octaves? “Because you’re interesting. Because I feel like you and I will get along well. Because I saw you and looked only at you.” He listed off, nonchalantly while she could feel the inner turmoil inside her grew despite quelling the first thoughts she had.

Does he… have the same effect he had towards other girls on her? Can she even feel the wild beating of his heart, how it beats because she’s near?

Before she could even think, he could feel her breathing hitch as she listened to his next words.

“And yeah, you’re right about that, Monique- you’re really not one of my people. Not typically anyway.” Having his forehead rest upon hers, eyes closing as if relishing this moment right here, just between the two of them.

As he opened his eyes, he could feel himself getting lost with her glint of hope and… something else. A sentiment he shared with her. Can she feel his utmost sincerity? “You are my person.” He whispered slowly as if he was… asking, pleading for her to understand.

A moment passed.

Letting out a shuddering sigh, she found herself relaxing onto his hold as she offered him one of her own sincere smiles before nudging his forehead gently.

“Hay nako Cj, ang drama ah. Ano, nakainom ka na naman?” She grinned as he let out a small annoyed groan, his finger replacing his forehead to gently flick hers, earning an indignant cry from her.

“Aray! What the fuck? Ang bayolente mo talaga no?” she cried, clutching her forehead in pain as she glared at him, to which he rolled his eyes at playfully before standing up, reaching over to pull her up as well. While he may have averted the crisis, he couldn’t help but wish he could’ve done more. And so while it’s not really part of his plan, and he knew his wallet will make him regret it later, he had to resort to other means of cheering her up.

“Bakit ikaw, hindi?” he singsonged, throwing his arm over her shoulders before she could even retaliate, pulling her close to him. “Tara, milktea tayo. Libre ko.”

-=-

"Classic Rivermaya. You gotta admit they do have one of the best songs, yeah?" Listening to his voice now, she couldn't help but reel in her shock at how he's quick to switch moods. If she didn't know any better, she'd say this dude could pass as a woman with the way he jumped from serious to light hearted conversation at a snap of a finger.

But she did know better and she knew this is his way of deflecting. His way of hiding what he truly felt, not wanting to burden people with the brewing storm inside his head.

Just what exactly are you trying to hide, Cj? After all these years, di pa ba sapat yung tiwala mo sakin?

She had to admit, it kinda hurt. They had, after all, been through thick and thin, survived all those hell weeks with little to no sleep only to get just enough passing scores.

Throughout those years, he had been her confidante. Her consistent companion. And yes, she knew if Rianne were to hear these thoughts of hers, she would beg to differ but if she were to be honest, there's just something different between Rianne's and Cj's companionship with her.

"Anyway," Cj's voice filled the air once more. "This song reminds me of that one time sa quad where you were asking me why I chose to befriend you. Ang weird ng timing pero siyempre, on brand na yan sa'yo so di naman na nakakapagtaka," hearing his small laugh should've annoyed her, should've launched her into strings of curses and promises of bodily harm the next time she saw him and yet, she found herself looking at the speaker with concern written all over her face.

Something's wrong, that much she knew and it frustrates her to no end that she couldn't fathom whatever the hell it is.

"Despite the weirdness, alam mo, ang saya ko that time. Not because you were wallowing in self-depreciating thoughts-- grabe Monique, inubos mo pera ko sa milktea, ah- but rather, because you chose to trust me." she could feel her stomach dropping at his next words. Blinking, she held her breath. "At that moment, you chose me… even if it was fleeting."

-=-

Now Playing: Dahan

1:30 ────ㅇ────── 4:57 Dahan dahan mong bitawan puso kong di makalaban

In a hindsight, he should've seen it coming.

He, of all people, should know how a person acts when they are hopelessly smitten- hopelessly in love?- same shit. After all, didn't he do the same to his circle of friends back then? Disappear on them, that is.

Di kaya, he disagreed. Hadn't I just saw them earlier this week? Besides, with the way they were swamped with their own shit, it would be a miracle for them to notice we don't hang out as frequent as before. he justified, leaning against the tree he had always frequented on the quad.

Even then, why didn't he notice the change in her? Or did he perhaps have known all along what was happening right before his eyes but chose to be blind about it?

Or baka naman busy lang siya, he reasoned to himself, heaving out a small sigh as he pinched the bridge of his nose, trying his might to keep the headache. pero kahit na, di ba?

When was the last time he saw Monique? When was the last time he had her undivided attention? The last time they shared conversation, or ate a meal together? Weren't they supposed to study together today?

Looking at the sprawled materials before him, he let out a bitter scoff. Certainly, not. he wanted to laugh, a sinking feeling in his gut had started to make itself known.

Out of the two of them, he had to admit-- and he swore it's not that he intentionally did it- but he's the one who had most likely cancelled on them.

Sometimes, it's because his parents were visiting. Sometimes, it's because he had fucked up with the course he had struggling in that he had to make up for it and sometimes, it's because his friends have had enough of him ghosting them that he hadn't had the choice but to go out with them.

All are valid points, he supposed but actually, she was with him during the mentioned reasons so technically, it wasn't exactly cancelled but more of change of plans.

Not that he's saying that Monique hadn't had her fair share of blowing their plans off but during the course of their friendship, she would let him know beforehand if she couldn't make it so as he wouldn't expect her.

Not until now, he thought bitterly, looking up as his gaze wandered off, aimlessly watching other students mind their own businesses.

It's not that Monique owed him an explanation or something- there may be an emergency that she had forgotten to let him know and that's fine. Cool.

It's just that, shouldn't she really be prioritizing something right now when she herself had stated that she oh so desperately needed to pass this course? Hence, why he offered to tutor her in the first place.

So. Not to be that guy, but where the hell is she?

Baka nga talaga emergency? he reasoned to himself, picking a random notebook to distract him from the pain he's currently feeling. Was he being too overbearing? Was he being overly dramatic over something simple? Knowing her attention span, baka nga nakalimutan niya lang talaga?

But why does it feel like it isn't? Why does it feel like there's something else and that he's just trying to justify her absence more than he should've?

Shaking his head, he was about to revert his focus on his notes when a loud chatter of a nearby group of students caught his attention.

He could've easily ignored it. Just one of the background noise even. However, he could've sworn he heard her voice. He must've- after years of being with her, her voice had been one of the things he had imprinted on his memory. He could easily distinguish hers even if he was put in a loud room.

Turning his head, his gaze immediately found her figure, just in the middle of a group of students- varsities, he belatedly realised- laughing without any care, leaning against that same dude that had caught her attention.

He knew it shouldn't affect him. It wasn't even any of his business, she's free to do whatever she wants, right?

Her choice whether she wants to study or not, it was all under her discretion.

Ah but it hurts, his face contorting on that painful smile he had found himself sporting these days. Why does it hurt? Why is it something as simple as her blowing their study session off to hang out with that guy and his circle of friends hurt so much?

-=-

"Now here's what I'm curious about,nagtampo ka na ba sakin without me knowing?" he wondered as if she was there with him to provide him the answers he wanted. "Yung tipong di mo sakin sinabi na nagtatampo ka kasi wala naman ako at that situation tas di mo na sakin sinabi kasi nawala rin agad yung tampo mo or something along those lines?"

Frowning, she thought hard for any instances he had described. Was there a time where she was pissed at him and hadn't let him know?

Just before she could even blurt out her answer, she found herself holding back as she remembered that he wasn't there to hear her answer.

Nagmumukha akong tanga sa'yo, Cj, she groaned inwardly, thanking the heavens that Rianne decided to stay the night at her boyfriend's.

"It was a horrible feeling, did you know?" he continued his monologue. "Lalo na 'pag wala ka naman talagang karapatan magalit. Pero di ba common courtesy na lang din na magsabi kapag di ka makakarating sa usapan?"

What?

"Sorry," he let out a small mirthless laugh. "Naguungkatan na rin naman tayo ng past, right? Ah ako nga lang pala so might as well, no? That time where you and I had a scheduled study session, the time where you-- I don't know if you forgot- blew me off just to hang out with that wannabe varsity dude."

She could feel her stomach dropping with every sentence he uttered. True, he knew of her goldfish-like memory so to have him directly remind her of what had happened back then gave her a sense of dread.

"I know I have no right to get mad, cause you're entitled to do whatever you want pero sana di ba nagsasabi?" Was this the reason why he had been acting all too strange that time they had met afterwards? Was this the reason why he was all too tense before going back to his normal self? "But no matter, kahit naman nagtatampo ako sa'yo, tingin mo matitiis kita?"

That's the thing, she wanted to disagree. You should've told me off. You should've made your thoughts known. So why didn't you?

-=-

Now Playing: Di Makatulog

1:08 ───ㅇ─────── 5:29 Bago pumikit ang iyong mata, ayokong managinip ng mag-isa

"What are we even doing?" he didn't mean for the question to escape his lips but the thought had been all too overwhelming that it finally slipped out of his mouth, prompting the person at the other side of the phone cease her animated storytelling of the events that had transpired earlier that morning.

"Huh?"

Closing his eyes, he berated himself silently for not being able to control himself. Was it because it was the dead of the night? Was it because his sleep was interrupted? Or was it because he had been feeling tired lately that he couldn't suppress his inner thoughts? "This," Might as well continue- take it head on, right? "Why are we even doing this?"

"We're just talking?" he could imagine her frowning as she tried to make sense of the shift in his mood. "Cj, if you're tired, you could've just said so. Di na sana kita naistorbo, di ba?"

Panic bloomed in his chest as he shifted from his position. "Wait no, that's not it." he rushed out before she could even hang up on him.

When she made no move to continue on, he took it as a sign to elaborate and so he did. "It's just that- Monique, why are we talking this late at night?"

She let out a small noise of confusion. "Because we haven't seen each other kanina? I barely saw even the glimpse of your shadow today tas ngayon ko lang narealize so I tried texting you and well, you answered naman so I figured, instead na text kasi mamaya nyan tulugan mo ako tas magaantay lang ako sa wala, tawagan na lang kita, ganun." she rambled on, not knowing how her words made its impact on him.

Shaking his head bitterly, he let out a small sigh as he stared at his bare ceiling, deep in thought. So ngayon mo lang napansin, he wanted to tell her. After weeks of not seeing each other, ngayon mo lang napansin na di na tayo naguusap?

"Pero Cj, dude, wait lang," the concern in her voice brought him out of his reverie. "Why are you- what's with the question? Again, if you aren't up for talking, you could've just said so."

She's starting to feel agitated, that much he could tell. With the way she stuttered, the way she repeated herself even if she hated doing so. It's funny how easily he had picked up her tells despite her not being there physically. It's funny how observant he had become just for her.

And just how easy he knew her tells, he could've easily stopped right there and then with the game he wanted to play and just let her continue with her tale as if nothing's wrong.

But there is. Something's wrong and if he had gotten a hold of himself, he would've held back and let it be. But he was getting tired and in his haze, he felt a great need to let whatever's bothering him known.

"It's not that," he backtracked, running his free hand over his face as he racked his brain for the right words. "Believe me, there's nothing more than I want than to hear about your day. Kasi for some reason-- and I think something's wrong with me when I say this pero parang may kulang kasi ngayong araw."

Silence engulfed the air and for a second, he had feared that he might've set her off but all of that was washed off when he heard her chuckle.

"It's me, isn't it?" he could already picture the silly grin adorning her lips as she asked him and for that alone had him smiling lopsidedly as well. Is it worth setting aside what he felt? Perhaps. "Sabi na nga ba ako talaga ang kukumpleto sa buhay mo."

Ignoring the skip of his heart, he let out a small groan for her to hear. "And there goes your delusions again." he let out a small chuckle as he heard her huff. "You sure you don't want me to drive you to the mental institute?"

"Hah. Eh ikaw nga tong pabago-bago ng mood so baka ikaw yung may kailangan nang idiretso sa mental institute?"

"Please. Kung baliw man ako, dahil yun sa'yo. I think you just had that effect on people, yeah? Nakakabaliw ka, Monique."

Hearing her scoff, he closed his eyes as he felt the tension released from his body. "Lahat naman nababaliw sakin, Cj. Ewan ko bakit ngayon mo lang yan narealize."

Should he dare? Is it worth risking for?

"Uy, seryoso dude?" In his silence, he failed to notice how her voice sobered. "If you're tired, then I'll let you rest."

"Nah, I'm okay. Di pa naman ako pagod."

"Sure ka? Just earlier you were questioning why we're doi-"

"I just missed you, s'all." he was quick to cut her off, mentally kicking himself for even bringing it up. "You were right, di tayo nagkita today and we haven't talked for a while kaya let me just- savor this, I think."

She let out a small laugh. "Savor this? You speak as if we're not going to talk anymore. Na parang di na tayo nagkikita ah. Na parang di tayo naguusap ah."

"Haven't we?"

"Ah but I'm right here, di ba? And medyo busy lang tayo kaya siguro di tayo nagkakatagpo or something."

"Are you really? I mean, paano pag sobrang busy ka na talaga at wala ka nang time para makipagusap, much less makipagkita?"

"I don't think that's possible, Cj. You and I- we make time for each other di ba? Like right now, masyado na ngang late but we're still talking, di ba?" oh how he wished he could see her, figure out her thoughts as she uttered these words.

He let out a small shuddering sigh. "Yeah," he conceded but with the thoughts running through his head, he couldn't stop himself from adding, "But why does it feel like-"

She let out a small hum, as if she had all the patience in the world. "Feel like what?"

"Like I'm losing you." he let the gravity of his words sink in. "Am I losing you?" he whispered as he heard her breath hitch.

"No," it was her turn to let out a shuddering sigh. He wanted to think that the thought itself repulsed her. "Never. Di ba nga sabi mo, mas madikit pa ako sa linta?" she asked, eliciting a small choked laugh from him. "You're not gonna lose me, Cj."

Her words were meant to soothe his fears. She was meant to placate this wavering heart of his. But for some reason, all it did was to give way to the dread he had been feeling.

Swallowing this feeling, he made a sound of disbelief. "Bakit naman parang nangbabanta ka, Monique?"

At the sound of her exasperation, his mouth curled in a small smile. "Hay nako this dude. It's an assurance, Ceej."

"But you know, people tend to just leave."

"And I'm not gonna be like them, Christian na di mabait." her voice had been too firm, too serious. And for a moment right there, she had made him believe in her. "I won't leave you even if you don't want to be in my life anymore."

Closing his eyes, he couldn't help the sharp breath he had taken. Ah. He must've been so tired, after all.

-=-

Having friends with someone who articulates words really well (read: Rianne), she had been made aware of how much words can mean so much more when they are used in the right context.

Take the word 'Oh', for example. In her opinion, this word had been overused in every possible way. In songs, sonnets, poems, stories, and even in mundane conversations. She couldn't understand how this simple word can make such an impact that people would use it over and over and so in silent protest, she refrained to use it on her daily conversations much to Rianne's amusement. (And much to the latter's delight, she had lasted at least two weeks before breaking her self-protest.)

"Am I losing you?" he whispered, his voice quiet and careful as if there's fragility in every syllable spoken.

Oh.

Now she gets it. Oh. Like oh, how does he know how to break her heart like this? Oh, please don't do this. Can't he see her heart breaking for him? Can he break her heart even more?

"Have I lost you?"

Turns out he can.

As silence followed him, she heaved out a shuddering sigh, trying to reel in all the emotions that are about to spill out any moment now.

Oh how she wanted nothing more than to be oblivious of what he was referring to. Oh how she wanted nothing more than to have forgotten the myriad of emotions she had felt that night where they had shed off the illusion of a strong front.

"That day, I was missing you, you know?" Cj continued, voice wavering. "For some reason, my best friend and I see each other less and less as days passed and I- for some reason, I can't confront you about it because I didn't know how to approach the topic. So I just let it be."

Closing her eyes, she could feel his emotions bleeding through the speakers, becoming tangible enough that she could almost feel them as if they were her own.

For the first time that night, she was grateful for his shyness- she couldn't bear to see him bare his soul to her right now, not when she, too, are in too deep with her emotions.

"And that night when you called me, I was really grateful. Though a small part of me was thinking, ah so naalala mo pa pala ako. Salamat ah? Pero kasi mas nananaig yung pagkamiss ko sa'yo." She could imagine him smiling oh so bitterly to his recorder as he paused. "I asked you once, have I lost you? And you answered instantly-"

"No," they chorused, albeit hers was more of a whisper whilst his was more of a resolute.

"And like a fool, I believed you." he sighed. "You just have that effect on me. You could tell me so many lies and I would still believe you."

Words can be weapons if used in the right context, Rianne would often tell her. And right now, she's bearing the brunt of it.

Oh, how it hurts.

-=-

Now Playing: I need you more today

1:13 ────ㅇ───── 4:11 I need you now, more than ever, more than words can say

"Handa na ako," he had blurted out as he watched Rianne look up from her reading material, cocking an eyebrow at what he hoped to be determined expression on his face before giving all her attention on him. At her silence, he took it as a sign to continue. "Handa na akong aminin ang aking lihim na pagtingin sa kanya."

Letting out a small sigh, he scanned his surroundings, methodically making sure not even a speck of dust was out of place.

With what he had planned for tonight, would it be an overkill to decorate their usual place at the quad? Was the addition of fairy lights an obvious give away of what he wanted to talk to her about?

Originally, he would've preferred to do this at their usual table in the library since not only it's lowkey but he wanted to think there's sentiment behind such place but Rianne was quick to poke his forehead with a revolted look on her face. ("Are you serious? Library? What's next, will you give her a badly constructed love letter and some tacky chocolates?") If it weren't for JK- her esteemed boyfriend holding her back, he might've been smacked on the head multiple times. (Honestly, that guy is a saint for even putting up with her. How on earth did she even snagged the guy?)

Silence engulfed them until he saw her mouth twitching as she cringed at his words. "Wow naman, di ko alam na meron pala akong kasamang makata dito," she bobbed her head, raising her palms as she gave him a small applause, obviously mocking him.

Shaking his head, he began inspecting the fairy lights Rianne and JK had set up for him, making sure it was working properly, silently thanking them.

While they may not see eye to eye, he knew he could always count on Rianne on things that matter and this, right here, is a testament of how far she'll go to help him.

Before he could even open his mouth to retaliate, her expression turned into a complete 180, shooting him a serious look as she closed her book, sliding it aside as she placed both of her elbows at the top of the table, giving him a once over. "Thank fucking god. It only took you what? Four years?" she asked rhetorically, making his jaw drop.

Was he really that obvious? "What made you decide to end all of our misery and finally confess to her?"

"'Our misery'" he echoed, eyebrows furrowing as she nodded her head, blinking owlishly.

"You two are really perfect for each other, being painfully dense and oblivious this entire time." she muttered, shaking her head when she realized the reason behind his question. "It's cute that you think you've hidden your feelings for her that well." Setting her lips in a tight line, she let out a small sigh. "I guess when the object of your affection is equally dense as you are, you're really bound to think that, yeah?" Mirroring the smug grin on her face, he threw a small piece of paper at her to which she had dodged easily, cackling softly at his indignation.

Patting over his hoodie's pocket, he let out a small sigh as he felt the familiar weight of the cassette tape he had been carrying the past few days, giving him a small sense of comfort just to quell in the nerves he had been feeling as the night creep in.

"So what's the plan?" she asked, picking up the paper he threw only to throw it back at him, making him glower at her. "Confess to her in an empty classroom like a school boy or do you just blurt it out as if you're talking about the weather?"

"Actually," he trailed off, scratching the side of his face as he met her curious gaze, suddenly feeling all too sheepish. "I was kinda hoping this is where you'll come in." he muttered. "Well, you and your boyfriend!" he backtracked as he saw her mouth curling in an all too familiar smirk.

"Come again?" she leaned forward, obviously enjoying how the tables had turned. "I don't think I heard you correctly. Did you just admit that you needed my help?"

"I'm starting to think this is a bad idea and I should've just approached your boyfriend instead." he groaned, earning a cackle from her.

"You know, for someone who's asking for a favor, you're not being nice." She's clearly enjoying this. Why did he even think it was a good idea to ask her? "Besides, I don't think you've got the courage to ask Juju by yourself. Not when you thought you're being sneaky with your emotions."

He let out a small grumble. "You're never gonna let that go, are you?"

"Siguro mga for this week's punchline lang. Iba naman next week." she grinned. "So when are you gonna grovel for my help?"

Rolling his eyes, he clasped both of his palms as he stared at her directly to her eyes. "Pretty please, can you and your boyfriend help me set up a place for my confession to Monique?" he asked lifelessly, already dreading her impossible demands-

"Sure."

Stunned, he stared at her as if she just grew four heads. "Just like that? No- 'you owe me Cj', 'wow Cj, if you're that desperate drop and give me twenty burpees ya piece of shit?'" if she noticed how his voice went octaves higher, he was grateful she decided not to comment on it.

When he was asked by Rianne if he had a plan, he had let her know the mixtape he had put together way back, giving her the idea of setting up a small picnic blanket by the tree they used to hang out at, transforming it into a somewhat vintage-ish look that three broke college kids could come up with.

Scoffing, she rolled her eyes as she began packing her things. "Au contraire mon ami, I'm not that heartless." she said, giving him a pointed look. "I may be a demon but there are some things where I draw the line. Messing with my friends' happiness is one of them."

"Thank you,"

Glancing at his watch, his eyebrows began to furrow as he mentally recalled his last text to Monique. He hadn't texted her the wrong time, had he?

Checking over their last message, he could feel the familiar coil of dread creeping over his stomach. She wouldn't ditch him this time, right? Surely, she's just running late?

"Don't thank me. I haven't even talked to JK yet." Faltering, she blinked as if she has been struck by a sudden thought. Turning to look at him once more, he could feel that whatever she's gonna say would dampen the mood. "Say, Cj, I'm curious about something."

Raising an eyebrow at her, he wordlessly gestured for her to continue.

"What will you do if-" she furrowed her eyebrow as he saw her contemplate whether to continue or not but before he could even ask, she had made her decision. "What will do you if Monique might not return your feelings?"

Plopping over the blanket, he tilted his head back, eyes closing as he let out a shuddering sigh.

Ah, how could he had forgotten? No wonder the quad's been all too serene, void of life.

Ah. That. He was hoping she wouldn't bring it up but he should've known better.

Averting his gaze, he could feel a bitter smile creeping across his face. "Then… I'll let these emotions go."

"That easily?"

It's the homecoming game. Last game of the season and from what he had heard, the last game that guy would be in too so it is a big event. He should've known. God, what an idiot.

"You seem to forget, Rianne. I love her more than I cherish my own happiness. I'd rather wish she's genuinely happy with someone else rather than force her by my side."

The implication hanging between them weighed heavier than what he had intended but he knew- they both knew he was right. Was it his wishful thinking to have Rianne contradict his words?

Biting his lip, he let out one last huff of air, quelling in the raging emotions he had been feeling, hoping to at least hold the tears at bay just until he's back in the safety of his apartment.

Just a few more minutes, he pleaded. Maybe she just lost track of time. But when there's no sign of even a shadow of hers, he knew better than to keep on waiting.

"Confessing to her is just me wishing she'd choose me. That perhaps, I may be enough for her to choose me this time." he whispered carefully as he looked up only to meet her eyes. Times like this he'd wish he had her ability to easily read emotions but perhaps he's also grateful he hadn't. After all, ignorance is truly a bliss.

Shaking his head, he hung his head low, a slow bitter smile plastered on his mouth.

She made her choice… and it's not him.

-=-

"What happened to us?" his voice came out in a shaky whisper a few minutes after the song had faded out, breaking her out of her reverie. "That's probably what you've been thinking this entire time, yeah?"

"You're probably thinking it's shitty of me to drop off the face of the earth the moment we graduated tas out of nowhere bigla na lang ako magpaparamdam through this, right? Siguro nga naiirita ka knowing I made Rianne and JK my accomplices dito but knowing you, I don't think you'd welcome me if I do this directly."

Wait, what? Even JK? She knew about Rianne's involvement the moment she received her message but to hear that Cj asked for her boyfriend's help is news to her.

Why, the last she saw that boy, he had been shooting her looks she couldn't decipher. At that time, she thought he was judging her from the way she couldn't be bothered to get dressed, brushing it off as she had known him throughout their college days but if what Cj said was true, then could it be those looks were more of pity rather than judgement?

"Remember that day where I asked you to come by our place by the quadrangle? I had it all planned, you know?" She couldn't miss the pain beneath his cheery voice. "I suck at decorating so I asked their help- picture this, just beneath our tree, there's lights-- fairy lights as what Rianne called them- hanging from the branches, underneath them, there's a picnic blanket Jk borrowed from his roommate cause he claimed it's better than to lie on the grass. And man, Monique you should've seen it! There's an actual picnic basket full of food that they both cooked because we all know that I am hopeless in the kitchen."

Bakit ganoon? She wanted to ask, her free hand unconsciously reaching to clutch her chest as she felt her heart being squeezed with every word coming out from his mouth. It took so much for her to feel intensely, to feel strong emotions but with Cj, she could build a great wall around her heart and he would topple it in minutes tops.

"Sa gitna ng picnic blanket, nandun yung speaker ko," he continued with a shuddering breath. "With one cassette tape inserted. This exact cassette tape filled with songs that reminded me of you- of us, throughout the years. Siguro hindi mo ma-connect yung kanta but for me, they were filled with memories of me and you and how our story came to be. I had it all planned- to tell you all about these memories while listening to the songs just beneath that tree while stargazing.

"Ang corny no? Hah. I tried telling Rianne about that but all she told me that if I wanted to confess how I felt then I should be sincere and open and that's why I have this tape with me."

Her breath hitched as she felt her heart stopped along with time as she looked at the speaker with wide eyes. Did he just-?

"Cause if I can't tell you these thoughts, these feelings out loud then I'll do it in the way I best know how… and that is through songs, don't you think?"

She could almost hear his heart shattering at the background as her trembling hand reached for her phone. With her vision blurred with all those unshed tears, she had to use both hands to frantically send a text to Rianne all while willing her breaths to even out.

Millions of thoughts rushed through her that she couldn't comprehend them all but one thing stood clear-- she had to see Cj now.

"So now you know," Cj's hushed voice made her pause before returning her attention back to her phone. "Why I had to disappear for awhile. It's a shitty excuse but I had to step back because I had to respect your decision. But I didn't even made it clear no? I didn't made it clear to you that you have options- that I am an option too."

Could it be…? Faltering, she faced the speaker once more, hope sparking within her, her phone pinging with an answer from her ever so loyal friend. With renewed vigor, she took her hoodie and her keys before rushing through the door, not caring if she faced Rianne's wrath for leaving her speaker on- apartment haunting be damned.

Just before she closed the door, she could hear his voice- the quietest she had ever heard from him, "…do you think I can try again?"

-=-

It was just like he said but not quite like it.

They weren't at their typical place- there weren't any trees, nor students bustling around the quadrangle. There's no field of grass to lay on, nor picnic blankets to sit upon.

Instead, she was directed at some rooftop of a random apartment complex (no doubt this is the very one he lived in currently) situated conveniently in the middle of the city that never sleeps.

There's no fairy lights hanging from the branches just as he had claimed and yet, with the city lights glimmering from a distance, it almost felt like it added a little bit of etherealness to the ambiance he was going for.

There's no stars- not in this light polluted city but just a glance of his eyes, she could've sworn there's galaxies of stars shining behind his eyes the moment he saw her.

Really, it was just like he said: it was a sight to behold. But this, right here? She wouldn't let him know, but this is infinitely better than what he had described.

"Bilis ah," she heard him before she could even see him all in his glory. That mouth of his would really be his undoing, had she even told him that before? "Don't tell me, tumakbo ka kaagad papunta dito?"

Hay nako Lord, may preno ba ang bibig nito? Feel ko may masasapak muna ako bago magungkatan ng nadarama.

But that's just a part of them, isn't it?

The playful bantering that would often end up with one of them wanting to sock the other in the face, the endless jabs that would often leave the other scrambling for a wittier comeback, and the assurance that despite the gap that separated them, they would always be okay.

Scoffing, she took a step closer towards him. "Bakit naman ako tatakbo? Ikaw ba si bebe Yoseob ko? Hindi, di ba?"

It was his turn to scoff. "Oh please. Di ka talaga papapasukin ng guard dito pag dinala mo yun. And really, Monique? You still have that old thing? My god, di pa ba yun inaanay?"

Jaw dropping, she squinted her eyes as betrayal etched on her face. "How dare you slander my love?" she couldn't help the venomous tone seeping from her voice as the fucker had the audacity to laugh at her reaction as if he was proud of himself. "You take that back."

"Take what back? Di ba prone ang mga cardboard sa mga anay?" he challenged, grinning at her as he . "And what, di ba matagal na rin yung cardboard mong yun? Ancient artifact, ganern."

Oh if only looks could kill. He would've been six feet under this entire apartment complex.

"…You're dead to me." she huffed, turning back to the doorframe when she felt two arms snaking around her waist, engulfing her in that familiar warmth she hadn't known she had been missing.

Oddly enough, it felt like she had basked in his hold before as if… it happened once upon a dream. And while being in his hold made her feel like she's back home, she couldn't help the feeling of disappointment wash over her.

Disappointment for herself, that is. If only…

"Hey," his voice quiet and soft, tugging her to face him, meeting his equally soft gaze and a small smile hanging upon his lips making her think that despite everything, he's still the one comforting her. "What's going on up there?" he asked gently, knocking on her forehead softly.

There's so many things she could've said to him- after all, what do you even say to the person you've made to wait?

"Why me?" she asked instead, voice barely audible but with the way he stiffened slightly, she knew he heard her. "You could've had anyone and yet you choose to stick by me, why?"

For a moment there, she anticipated him choosing to answer the same way he did all those years ago- back when all her insecurities ran deep within her.

"I could ask you the same thing, why didn't you pursue him?" he countered, pulling away from her momentarily. "Wasn't that what you wanted? What changed?"

"He's not you," her answer was instantaneous, catching them off guard. She didn't mean to come off too strong, she hadn't mean to confess first and yet, when she saw the stunned look on his face, she knew she had to find the courage to continue.

Letting out a shuddering sigh, she muttered, "No matter how much of a total package he was, there's one thing he couldn't be and that's- he's not you." She could see the conflict dancing upon his eyes and while she understood, she couldn't help the pang of sadness washing over her.

She could've said more but with the way she saw the understanding dawning upon his eyes, she knew she didn't need to elaborate.

"Ang daya mo, alam mo yun?" he let out a small chuckle, shaking his head fondly at her. "Pinatawag nga kita para ako yung aamin and yet, here we are."

"Ayan!" She exclaimed, startling him, his hold on her faltering momentarily. "Kinuntsaba mo talaga sina Rianne? Goodness Cj, kala ko ba kaaway mo ang beshy ko?" she asked him, tone accusatory making him roll his eyes at her, good naturedly.

"Focus," he mumbled, poking her forehead before placing his arms around her once more. "Moment ko na nga 'to, aagawin mo pa talaga?" he whined, earning a grin from her.

"Ay sorry, sorry- please, do continue." she nodded off as if daring him to act upon what he had been planning the entire night for.

"I like you."

Drawing in a sharp breath, it was her turn to be stunned as she met his gaze. Taking her silence as his cue, he dared to continue. "I think I've said all I can in that mixtape so I hoped you listened to it carefully kasi ang hirap umulit, Monique please lang." if she didn't know any better, she could've thought he was offering her a cheeky grin when in fact, it was actually a nervous smile.

"I've liked you for a long time, Monique. Back then, I thought I would've been satisfied being your friend cause that's better than nothing but as time went by, my feelings for you just grew stronger and I-"

"-I think I got greedier, wanting to be the source of your happiness. Kasi if I can make you happy as a friend then maybe… just maybe, I can be a source of your happiness as someone more."

Ah. What's this feeling? How is it that this boy in front of her made her go through a rollercoaster of emotions in a span of one night?

How could he make her heart feel so full and content? How could he ease all of her worries with poorly constructed words and mistimed jokes?

But that's just it, right? That this right here, this is what love feels like, right?

Eyes boring right into her, she could feel the surge of emotions running through him as his eyes sought hers. "And so, Monique, do you think I can try again?"

A heartbeat passed.

"Yes."

[mozak-hh]

Genshin impact headcanon:

How they find out they’re in love with you

I was just listening to, “love songs,” by Kaash Paige and I got really imspired to do a cute little headcanon. I would recommend listening to the song while reading this cus it is a major vibe ;)

Pairings: Zhongli, Diluc, Kaeya, albedo

Songs to vibe to for the headcanon lol

Zhongli:

Zhongli’s not used to feeling puppy love, those feeling are beneath gods. Especially after all of his years alive, he thought love was something that had run its course. In his earlier centuries, perhaps, but never now.

After meeting you for the first time, he grow fond very quickly of your childish remarks and youthful attitude. It refreshes him to know that not everyone is made of stone. And after your first encounter he goes out of his way to bump into you more and more often.

This usually disrupts your tasks with Childe, so he is the first one who catches on to Zhongli’s little interest in you. Childe will often bicker with Zhongli about it, but instead of snapping back Zhongli will just act oblivious about it.

Zhongli isn’t the type to think extremely deeply about things, so I don’t think he’ll have trouble accepting his feeling about you. But that doesn’t mean he won’t be surprised, and it might take him a while to really figure it out.

He goes back to the place you first had lunch with him and steals collects the cup from where you sat, holding the fragile price of antique in his hand and turning it slightly, inspecting it. He then circles the brim with his thumb, sighing and putting in his pocket. He then puts it on the shelve in his office. Looking at it time to time.

Further on into your friendship with him. Zhongli finds himself idolising your form and appearance. Caressing you hair when you hug him, lifting the stands to his face for a closer look, you’ll never know that though.

He’ll offer his arm to you when you walk around the harbour with him. Letting you wrap you hand around it while talking about your latest discoveries in Liyue. Rest your head on his shoulder and you may hear him suck in a breath. Trying to compose himself. It’s not everyday gods get attached to humans. So when it does happen, you can expect them to be way more possessive than the average significant other.

Albedo:

this man is quite awkward with his feelings ok? he could write a 30 page essay on the essence of human life but not one sentence could describe the way he thrives when your around him. 

he would see you walk past the alchemy shop everyday, smiling and talking to the shopkeeper. Before he met you he wouldn’t think to much about it, but after the events in Dragonspine, he grows fond of staring at you outside the shop window, leaving his notebooks and research to sit idly and gaze. On some occasions he may even draw you, search through his notepad the next time the two of you meet and you might find out how many pages exactly he has of you. 

the first ones to catch on to his little antics is his apprentices, Sucrose mainly. Though she wont pry too much, as Albedo would often call her ridiculous for thinking such things, she’ll giggle every time she sees Albedo at the window. Knowing exactly what he’s doing. 

One day, while you are staying in Diluc’s tavern, Albedo goes wondering around the stalls in Mondstadt, buying flowers from the little girl near the gates. using his magic he evolves them into luscious blooms of colour, and begins his trek to the tavern. It is only once he reaches your room door does he realise what he’s actually doing. This is when it hits him. That perhaps you are worth more to him than his hunger for knowledge. He lets the flowers drop to floor. So many months of drawing your figure and longing for the taste of your touch and now he’s too scared to even knock on your door? he slouches and walks back to where he came from. Not bothering to pick up those beautiful flowers left behind. It is when you finally open your door to get fresh air do you almost step on them. Noticing their other-worldly hue, you knew only one man would have the kind of abilities to make these.    

A week goes by, and you and Albedo are up in Dragonspine once again to do research on more artefacts he collected. He treads lightly in the snow, gazing at the way your eyes light up as you talk. he then flinches slightly when he feels your warm hand reach for his own, and you look up at him with a smirk. “The flowers where so beautiful, it’s a shame you didn't bring them to me yourself,” you then lightly kiss his cheek and walk off, leaving him a blushing mess in the cold.  

Diluc:

Diluc is known to have little to no interest in women. Much to people’s dismay, this man has no intention of marrying a women so they can steal his money. That is until he met you, of course. 

With him money has no limits, so expect to receive many gifts during your nights out with him, or seeing him after he’s been away on business. Whether that be an embroidered lace from fancy stores, or a jade necklace all the way from Liyue, Diluc will show you a world of luxury. 

Diluc will always place you beside him at dinner parties or fancy ball. Since he’s been surrounded by vicious women his entire life, it calms him to know you’re right beside him. 

there is always a room in the tavern for you, whether you need it or not. The bartenders on duty always know you are allowed to stay after hours, and the drinks always come free of charge. 

After a month or two of receiving these perks, you grow tired of seeing so much of Diluc’s purchases, but never enough of the real him. So you seek him out at his winery. 

you have no luck finding him however, so you opt for waiting in his office until he eventually shows up. While you wait, you notice a large stack of letters, all of which have your name on it. 

Elegant, handwritten love letters. Each and every one of them. Telling you how beautiful you are, and how your smile is always on his mind. In fact, everything about you is edged into his memory, all these gifts you receive having some sort of connection to reminding him of you. The fact that when you wore the dress he bought you last week, it took him days to shake the heat from his body, the longing to touch you. 

After an hour or so of reading these letters, your face is completely red. And as soon as you begin to calm down, the red haired gentleman strides thought the door with a fat stack of papers he needs to sign. You jump from your seat, letters falling out of your lap and down to the floor as you do so. He takes one look at the papers surrounding you, and immediately know what they are. Perhaps if he had been brave enough to send these to you, he may of not been this embarrassed. 

“As much as I am glad that you finally understand my emotions surrounding you, I would have been more keen to have spoke them to you in person. But that can wait for now. How about you join me for dinner?”

Kaeya: 

This lover boy is actually very helpless when it comes to real love. After exposing himself to the elements of your personality, he falls head over heals for you. Possible one of the toughest men to come to term with their feeling to be honest. His flirty and obnoxious behaviour deceiving him in the end. 

Kaeya would prefer to see you in the morning. Having coffee before work with you is his personal favourite. It is these genuine outings that he loves most. Unlike the occasional nights of pleasure he has had beforehand. With you, he feels his heart is more precious to you, not his body. As many women would eventually go with a one night stand with the lesser brother of a rich man, than to have conversations with him over a cup of coffee. 

On a more positive note, Kaeya will start to recruit you for more and more missions just to enjoy your company. It wont be long till people start to assume you are his personal assistant for the knights. Seeing you accompany him on everyone of his outings. This is where you start to use his office.

The both of you slowly start to share the same working space after a few weeks of being on his team. Memories in his office are some of his fondest when it come to you. staying in and having dinner with him after a long day at work. Sharing stories with him during those mountains of paperwork. Joking with him during work breaks. More importantly, comforting him after heavy battles. 

When Kaeya starts to act more like a puppy around you, it is Diluc that teases him bout being a fool in love, and this is what causes Kaeya to finally understand it. Like a break in the ice. All of these months devoting his time to you, never to act on his feelings because on uncertainty. But know he knows he has you, and unlike many of these other women, you wouldn’t be going anywhere. 

Kaeya sits impatiently at the local café, tapping his finger on the table as he glows a light shade of pink. Once he’s sees you coming towards his table, his blush sharpens as he stumbles to grab the flowers he bought you beforehand.  

aaaand there! Another genshin headcanon, sorry such the long wait. I’ve been pretty busy at work :p comment if you have any suggestions x

[skellebonez]

Because you are a fantastic writer, and because I simply adore what you write, how about a continuation to the "Wukong is once again being an idiot and lying to everyone" prompt? And this is an open prompt! You can take this and go absolutely bonkers with it!

THE POWER YOU HAVE GIVEN ME SHALL NOT GO UNDERUTILIZED. This is a follow up to these two previous fills and I am just going off about what I think would be an interesting way to continue into season 3 at this point.

Warning: UH... Sun Wukong is not doing too great. Mild descriptions of his hidden injuries, Wukong is still immortal but what he hid would be very bad for people who are not.

"He's burning up," Pigsy said with a hiss as he pulled his hand away from Wukong's forehead. "Why is he burning up? What even happened to him!? He didn't look like this an hours ago, ain't he immortal-"

"Yeah, but not invincible," MK interrupted with a shake in his voice, watching as Sandy checked on his mentor's newly revealed injuries. "Not entirely anymore. He-he'll probably be fine! No, he will be fine, but he's-shit." He took in a shaky breath, trying to stand on legs that had long since fallen asleep in their awkward position holding his mentor's head off the hard floor. "I'll explain later, we need to see how bad he is now!"

He jumped, feeling a soft touch against his shoulder. Mei had knelt beside him at some point and it wasn't until she reached over to brush her thumb against his cheek that he realized he had started crying at some point.

The chef looked at him with an odd expression at MK's revelations, almost looking like he wanted to say something in anger before shaking his head and standing instead.

"You're right," he said as he turned to Sandy. He didn't need to ask the largest of the group anything, watching as he carefully scooped the Monkey King into his arms and headed off into what they had designated as "the med bay" with Tang following close by. "But you're gonna tell us exactly what that you mean by 'not entirely invincible' on the way, no more of this waitin to talk business! And we're going to walk there calmly."

MK couldn't find it in himself to argue.

~

"Well, shit," Pigsy sighed after MK rushed through the conversation he had shared with his mentor, pinching the bridge of his snout with a sigh. "That's... bad. That explains a whole lot about a lot of stuff, like how he managed to get himself caught on New Years, at least... You're sure he's still immortal?"

"Yeah," MK nodded, leaning into the grip Mei had on his shoulder as they walked. "Yeah, he made it a point to insist he still couldn't die."

"That's... good, right?" Mei offered with a chuckle, her usual exuberance seeming shaken up after seeing the state of the immortal monkey. "That means he'll get better!"

They paused at the entrance to the med bay, really more a spare bedroom they had stocked all the medical supplies Sandy apparently hoarded into, and MK gulped. He thought over Wukong's words, trying to find any piece he could to pick it apart. See exactly what, if anything, may have been just more half truths... he didn't want to believe he was still hiding things, not after that display of dropping the glamor. But MK himself had claimed he would explain everything to the others before... and lied still... and he was more like Sun Wukong than he first realized.

"I-I think so," he finally settled on an answer as they walked in, Sandy's back being the first sight they were greeted with. He could see the bottom half of Wukong's legs and feet, and Tang standing on the opposite side of the bed, as they were doing... something. "He said I was half invincible so... maybe he's still half himself? But he said they'd 'probably heal eventually' so..."

"Maybe he just meant they wouldn't scar!" Mei offered with a smile, moving to grip MK's hand. "Come on... we can't stop thinking about the good outcomes now..."

He turned, looking at his best friend. Her smile was off, uncertain, dark circles under her eyes from lack of sleep. None of them had slept well the last two nights. But her eyes, despite the uncertainty they shared with her smile, were as bright and hopeful as ever.

"Yeah..." MK said with a small smile.

"As much as we'd appreciate the help," Tang said suddenly, moving from behind the bed to stand before them. He had removed his scarf and robe, something that looked bizarre and wrong outside of seeing him in his sleep wear, and instead wore a simple tank top and his regular pants. He had gloves on... already spotted in red. "This room is a little cramped with all five of us and a bed."

"I'll go make us food," Pigsy said immediately, laying a hand on MK's back as he addressed Tang. "We don't gotta eat it when it's finished it's just... gonna be ready for when you're done, ok?"

MK couldn't help but smile a bit. Pigsy didn't just make food and let it sit, not normally. The only other time he could ever remember him doing that was after... DBK. After they volunteered to help clean up the city from the damage his possession caused. He'd made pots and pots of noodles and soup and plates of side dishes and buns and just kept them warm for when anyone came by to eat them. He stayed in his shop, waiting and handing out what he could.

He never once complained about the excess from the last batches, offering them for free to the first few customers the next day if they wanted it.

"Thanks, Pigsy," Tang said with a tired smile. "I think everyone is going to appreciate that."

"I'll finish the ship upkeep Sandy and I were doing," Mei offered, smiling at Sandy when he looked over his shoulder. "I've got a pretty good handle on the specifics by now."

"I trust you," Sandy said with a smile, the first thing he had said the entire time he'd joined them in the kitchen, and turned back to what he was doing.

There was an awkward silence as Tang started grabbing supplies from a cabinet to deposit on a nearby table and Pigsy and Mei turned to MK.

"I'm staying," he said firmly, but nothing could hide the shaking in his hands. "Just... I have to know how bad he is."

"OK," Pigsy said, and they made their way out before Mei turned back inside.

"When he wakes up? Give him one of these for me," she said before making a face and leaving in the opposite direction.

There was just enough of a chuckle that escaped him that MK thought he would be able to do that.

"Are you sure you want to see this?" Tang asked, far softer in tone than he had been before. "Sandy and I were already taking stock of his injuries and... MK, they're not good."

"Yeah, I'm sure," he insisted, taking in a calming breath. "I need to know exactly how angry I need to be at him."

His father figure didn't laugh, but there was amusement in his eyes as he returned back to where he was. "Alright, then you're going to need to help by handing me everything I ask for."

They settled into silence after that, and MK watched and Tang and Sandy worked to check on the unconscious immortal in the bed.

They had stripped off his robe, leaving him only in the pants he wore underneath it. He looked... he looked much worse without it on.

In addition to his eye (which seemed to have been the only hidden injury to have already healed as much as it may have) and the tear in his ear (which seemed to have at least been partly treated by himself already) his torso was littered with little cuts and scrapes. Sandy had rolled up the legs on his pants, one remaining upright and MK could see the slight swell of his knee from some kind of internal injury (probably muscular). His tail and arms were also similarly injured, one nasty gash in particular close to the end of the tail that had gotten almost as much treatment as his ear.

But on his side... there was sloppy bandaging slowly growing redder.

"Sandy, help me get this off him," Tang said, holding out his hand. "Scissors, please."

MK jolted, getting what Tang requested from the pile of stuff, watching as he carefully cut away the wrapping.

Tang winced as he finally lifted the dressing from Wukong's side, but did his model best to look as impassive as possible. There was a sizeable gash on it, large enough that Tang's entire hand barely covered it lengthwise, that had poorly treated with the lopsided gauze and bandages (probably stolen from this very room after he allowed them to treat his visible injuries). Blood had seeped through it, all fresh, and it was most likely reopened upon his fall. It looked... wrong. Not the way it should. The fur around it had been either ripped out or had fallen out and the skin was inflamed and angry.

"... no wonder he's burning up, this is becoming infected," he said evenly, detected, leaning over to look at the supplies he took from the medicine cabinet. "Sandy, I'm going to need your help moving him. MK?" He turned to the young man, face softening as he saw how pale his face had gotten at the revelations before him. "MK, I heard what you were telling Mei and Pigsy earlier. Mei's probably right, he'll be ok. OK?"

MK wanted to believe he had been, he'd been so honest after he told him to stop lying, but... but he still couldn't help but worry his mentor was still hiding more. And he felt so guilty thinking that. But he shook his head, dispelling the thoughts in his head.

"OK... what do you need?"

"Let's start with antiseptic. We need to clean this as quickly as possible."

~

It took longer than MK had hoped. And Sun Wukong had only barely stirred the entire time. Whether it was from the infectious fever or from exhaustion from using his remaining powers while sick he didn't know, but the most of a reaction they got him from was a sharp gasp and a twitch while cleaning the worst of his wounds.

Aside from that... nothing. He remained still, even as Sandy moved him without any effort and guided Tang through the medical stuff he wasn't sure how to handle.

MK knew Tang had some first aid training but this was much more than he expected him to pull off... he supposed he was learning a lot.

After a while Tang didn't need Sandy's help to move him anymore and the massive man shot MK an apologetic look before leaving. MK assumed he had left to wash up, and he did, but he eventually returned completely cleaned up with a hot cup of tea. It was the same flavor as the one he never got to finish during his conversation earlier.

He ruffled MK's hair after the young man gratefully took it, making Wukong more comfortable on Tang's instruction and pulling the covers over everything but one arm before saying something about needing to give Mei some tea as well, before leaving the three of them alone again. MK thought that, maybe, the sight of the Monkey King as he was was somehow making him... uncomfortable. No, not uncomfortable.

Sad.

He didn't say anything.

"He looked... almost fine when he saved me..." MK said after a long sip of his tea and a long silence of watching Tang handle everything else on his own, trying to squeeze his cup. Just like when he had tried before, it stayed firm. "He wasn't hurt then, not by LBD, so... he'd been keeping up those illusions since before he came. How long was he hurt?"

"There isn't really a way for us to know," Tang admitted, wrapping the fresh gauze around the king's arm as carefully as he could manage. It wouldn't have mattered if he wasn't careful, Wukong didn’t stir a bit. "It could have been hours... could have been days. With how quickly his eye healed vs his gash it's hard to tell. But my guess would be hours, given when you... when..." He trailed off, a shudder running through him. "He was actively giving you his powers, yeah? Maybe... he was giving you some of his healing abilities. Or maybe something else hurt his eye long before everything else. We just don't know."

"I think that was from Macaque," MK said with a wince, knowing he was going to have to explain more about who Macaque was eventually. "He said LBD has him under her control and he has the same injury on the opposite eye."

Tang froze for a half a second, the shine of the overhead lights on his glasses keeping Mk from seeing just what kind of expression he had. But he simply nodded, finishing up his work.

"We'll just... have to hope he'll be able to give us some better information when he wakes up," Tang said with a shrug as he removed his gloves. "This is all probably a mystery even to him... I'm going to wash up... will you be alright alone?"

"Yeah."

That was a lie, but he felt at least this one was warranted.

Because even if he wouldn't be fine he didn't want to leave.

~

It was nearly 11 hours before Sun Wukong opened his eyes again, though he didn't realize that at the time.

The morning sunlight was just barely shining through the window to the med bay, and he wondered for a moment why one of his eyes seemed to ache at the light and a tear rolled down his cheek from the strain at trying to see.

Then he remembered that he couldn't see out of it anymore. And the conversation with MK. And... passing out. In the kitchen.

This was definitely not the kitchen floor, which was bad. What he was laying on was soft and had something else laying on top of him. Which meant he had been moved to a bed.

Which meant he had been unconscious for more than a minute, which was the exact opposite of what he wanted.

He tried to move his left arm to cover his eye, but found something... holding it down. And with a little effort he moved his head, looking over to the side.

MK was slouched over on a chair, nearly face down on the blanket that covered him and holding his hand. In his other hand there was a comic book of some kind, horribly bent by his own face.

He had dark circles, much darker than he had the night before, under his eyes and there was a dried wetness on his cheeks that made Wukong's chest hurt at the sight.

He'd messed up... again. He shouldn't have held up the illusion, not for that long. He should have let it fall the moment they hit the drone and been honest instead of insisting that he go on his new Journey to the West on his own. Or at least let it fall the next day, when they questioned why he was so tired. So quiet. Why he was so still and wasn't running around the ship like they expected (the pulled muscle in his knee, which he very much noticed was tightly compressed by either a sleeve or a wrap, being the main culprit along side... that injury).

He sighed, doing his best to remove his hand from his student's carefully before gently resting it on his head and ruffling the hair there.

"...'m sorry, MK," He said tiredly. "No more secrets, I promise."

"You better mean that promise you asshole."

Wukong yelped and jumped, yelping again when it sent a jolt of pain down his side. "YOu're AwAKe!?"

MK sat up, almost smiling at the way his mentor sounded but holding it back. "Yeah... I kinda passed out after a while, but I woke up like... an hour ago? I've just been trying to get as much rest as I can, even if I'm not actually sleeping."

"That's... good," Wukong said with a nod, the way MK described the time frame feeling familiar. "So you saw... everything?"

"Everything."

"Well, shit."

"That's exactly what Pigsy said when I told him what happened," Mk said with a chuckle, reading over to grab a packet of some kind and a glass of water. "Tang gave me very specific instructions to make you take all of this. Or else."

"Or else... what?" Wukong chanced, raising an eyebrow.

"I dunno, I always took the medicine he gives me with that threat so I never got to find out," MK shrugged. "Pigsy says it's not worth finding out."

"I'll take his word for it," Wukong said with a sigh. It was probably best to take whatever it was regardless of threats, he could feel his fever still and he did not want to keep having to fight that off. So he took the medicine, a mixture of pills and some kind of powder MK mixed into his drink that made it taste oddly way too sweet and sour at the same time, and sighed as he closed his eyes again for a moment.

They sat in silence for only a minute before he spoke again.

"Your friends... did all this?" He gestured to himself, reaching up to feel the odd dressing on his ear.

"Tang and Sandy did," MK explained, and went on to tell him what happened. How they treated him. How Pigsy had food waiting for him now that he was awake. How MK stayed by his side just in case.

"Oh, and Mei wanted me to give you this," MK said before pausing, glowering at him in a way that looked odd on his student's face but probably would have looked horrifying on Mei.

"Oh... I made her that mad huh?"

"I think everyone is kinda angry at you to some degree," MK admitted before holding his mentor's hand again. "But... mostly we were worried. You're my mentor, and a part of our little group now. That's what we do. Worry about each other."

Sun Wukong felt another tear slip out of his injured eye, but not from strain.

It had been so long since anyone... worried about him.

He didn't know how much he missed knowing he was cared about like that.

[petri808]

Oh look at the date! Klance ficlet for @diablosart they know why lol 😏

“What the hell we’re you thinking?!” Keith snapped as he popped his helmet off and chucked it hard at the ground. “Thanks to you were now trapped in a cave in!”

“Look, I’m sorry! I got distracted!” Lance snapped back.

“By what?! We were supposed to be scanning for the jababian dagger. What were you doing, watching your smut videos again?!”

Lance pulled off his helmet with a scoff. “First off, I don’t watch smut videos. Second, even if I did, that’s none of your business. And third, no, I was scanning, just wasn’t paying attention to where I was going.”

Keith rolled his eyes and spat back with a sarcastic riff. “Well that explains why you knocked both our cats out of the damn air crashing us into this place!”

Using a flashlight, Keith scanned the inside of the cave and noticed a lot of fractures spanning the walls. According to the computer in his Lion, the cave was full of an unstable and weak type of volcanic rock. ‘No wonder it caved in so easily…’ He groaned again. “Just great, if we try to blast our way out, it might collapse the ceiling on us.” Keith walked over to his helmet and picked it up. “I’ll need to do a thorough analysis before attempting to break free. The computers on the ship could do a better job scanning this cave, but they won’t arrive until morning.”

“Are you serious?! We’re stuck in here?!”

“At least for the night, so, stop your bitching since you’re the one who got us into this mess! Why don’t you start a fire while I get to work with the computer.”

“Fine,” Lance stomped away muttering to himself. He was just happy Keith was too irritated and didn’t press him further on what he’d been distracted about.

The pair had been sent ahead of the rest of the Voltron group to look for some kind of special dagger. Lance couldn’t remember what was so important about it, just that it possessed magical properties and they didn’t want it falling into the enemy’s hands. A distress signal was sent out to their ship, so now they just needed to settle in and stay warm until help arrived. He managed to find a cache of old animal bones deeper in the cave to use as fuel for the fire, coupled with some dried leaves and tetrodontyl feathers that must have blown in over the years for kindling. Whether it would last the night was yet to be seen, but it was all he had to work with. Their Lions only held so much in terms of supplies because they weren’t meant to hold long term reserves. But luckily there were emergency blankets and some instant rations they could eat.

Lance never realized just how cold and uninviting a cave could truly be until he became stuck in one. It was creepy with the sounds of bugs scurrying in the darkness, water drops echoing through the silent air, and occasional cracking sounds from any temperature fluctuations. He hated the quiet emptiness because it left open room for his mind to wander and more thoughts to break through as he stared into the flames of their campfire. Lance frowned and brows furrowed, remembering the distraction that led to this debacle. Of course, this was the opposite of what he would have wanted! Their lions sustained damage, and to be stuck, alone, with the reason for his distracted mind was causing his stomach to turn inside out.

Maybe Lance should have pushed Keith harder to drag Pidge or Hunk or Allura along on this trip and not him, anyone but him. He didn’t want to come. Didn’t want to be alone with the man. Hasn’t, for a while now ever since he’d developed different feelings for the guy. ‘How ironic,’ Lance groaned in his head. To go from professional jealousy to romantic pining, he was such a fool. Could anyone blame him? Keith was handsome and smart, but not surprisingly it took someone who could be as hot-headed as himself to catch his eye. Or maybe it was surprising if Lance really thought about it. Girls easily caught his attention, but with Keith it was an attraction that grew through close working confines and of admiration. In essence, he fell for the character of the man and not just for his looks.

“Oi?” Keith snapped his fingers to get Lance’s attention. “The eta is now 8 hours till Shiro and the rest get here.”

“Huh? Oh, yeah, okay.” Lance responded in a rather distracted tone that mirrored the monotonous looping thoughts in his head. He felt horrible about causing this disaster in the mission while at the same time kept thinking about Keith…

“That’s all you can say?” Keith questioned his teammate. “Okay?” But when he received no response, he pushed the man’s shoulder hard. “What is going on with you lately Lance? You’ve been distracted a lot and it’s starting to affect your performance.”

“Am I not allowed to have a bad day?” Lance retorted. “Everyone has their bad days, man, it’s not always a crisis.”

Keith sighed. His anger had dissipated but that didn’t mean he wasn’t still annoyed. He thought they were close enough friends that would turn to each other if something was wrong, but apparently he was mistaken. “It’s my job as the leader to worry, so cut the bullshit Lance. I know enough to know something is really bothering you. If you don’t wanna talk about it, fine, but you need to figure it out cause this,” he gestured to their damaged lions, “can’t keep happening.”

“I know, I know,” Lance dropped his head with a long exhale. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to screw up. It’s just— there’s something eating me up and I have no idea what to about it.”

A silence took hold as the two men sat there illuminated by the fire’s light. Keith didn’t want to keep pushing, but he could see the angst on Lances face and it bothered him. In all the years they’ve known each other, there was only one other time he’d ever seen the man so… sad? But it couldn’t be for the same reason, because if Lance had met a new girl he was interested in, Keith was certain he would have heard about it immediately. Lance wasn’t exactly shy about the subject unlike himself. So, what could it be? Keith stared at the fire as he pondered what to say next, but nothing really felt right to say to his friend. This wasn’t exactly a topic he was skilled in with his own little buried secret. For the next couple of hours, they stayed that way, shifting only to stoke the fire or eat some of the rations they had available. It would probably be a great idea to get some rest, but neither made a move to do so. Just… kept staring in awkward silence at a dying fire.

The temperature change in the cavern was slower than it would have been if exposed to the outside air, but nonetheless, by the mid-way mark of their wait the pair could feel it dropping. Blankets were pulled tighter around their bodies in an effort to hold back the cold, and the men had moved closer together to conserve the body heat between them. Maybe it was the exhaustion kicking in, but the limited distance no longer bothered Lance. The hours of silent reflection were also leading him to one conclusion. If he wanted to stop the frustration, coming clean was the best solution. Yet one thing kept holding him back from making the leap— the proverbial aftermath.

Yeah, so telling Keith how he really felt might take the weight off his shoulders, but what would happen after that? What if Keith is disgusted? He’ll not only lose a friend, but how could they continue working together? That would be so uncomfortable! Lance groaned in his head. Would he be willing to give up his role in Voltron? What if Keith ended up leaving instead, causing him to feel guilty about it? Would the others hold it against him? Maybe if they talked it out, they can work out something amicable… ‘Argh!’ Lance screamed in his head as cradled his lowered head. Why did he fall for a teammate!

Keith looked over at the movement and saw Lance’s demeanor. “If you’re tired, why don’t you rest?”

“It’s not that,” Lance mumbled. “I mean I am, but it’s not that.”

“Oh…”

“Have you ever had a crush on someone but didn’t know how to tell them?”

‘So it is over a girl…’ Keith’s brow raised. “Why can’t you tell them?”

“Because, it’s awkward when you’ve known them for so long.”

‘Huh, so maybe it is Allura.’ Keith couldn’t say he was surprised, but it stung just a little. “You should probably just tell them, I mean if it’s eating you up this bad, isn’t it better to just know how they feel too?”

“I don’t know…” Lance sighed. “It’s not like they’ve ever given me a reason to think they’d like me back.”

“Still, once you do know, you can start moving forward again, cause right now you’re stuck and that’s worse.”

Lance glanced over to Keith who was looking in his direction. The man was right. Didn’t make a decision any easier… but he was probably right and all he could do is hope for the best. That didn’t mean he was ready to face Keith head-on either or see the physical reaction the man might have. Lance turned his head away and kept his arms wrapped tightly around himself for protection. “It’s… you…” he mumbled quietly.

“Come again? I didn’t catch that.”

“I said… It’s you.” Lance mumbled again, but this time a little louder.

“Me??”

“See, yeah, I told you it would be awkward— just forget I said anything. I feel better just getting it out.”

Keith forced Lance to turn back to him. “No, I mean I was just surprised cause you’re always chasing after women, but—”

“I’ll just drop it and move on,” Lance cut him off. “I don’t wanna make you feel uncomfortable.”

“But that’s the thing,” Keith interjected, “I’m not. It’s okay because I’ve liked you too but I just thought you weren’t into guys.”

Lances eyes flashed wide. He really hadn’t expected such a response, especially not this quickly. “You do?” His voice trembled as he verified the man’s statement.

“Yeah…” Keith blushed. “I don’t exactly have experience in this stuff, but I like you too Lance.”

Lance jumped up in excitement. “Wow— for once my screw up turned out to be a good thing!”

“Uh-huh…” Keith chuckled. “But don’t do that again!”

[chalky]

The Commodification of c!Tubbo

This essay is unnecessary but I think about it too much so here you go

At this point, y’all are probably sick and tired of me rambling about c!Tubbo, as this is about all my original posts are. But, I feel as though this is an important aspect of his character that is either swept under the rug or never given any second glance.

Whether intentionally or not, Tubbo has been constantly commodified by allies and enemies alike (don’t even get me started on the fandom, that’s for a whole other post). Like, throughout the entire story of the Dream SMP, Tubbo has been looked down upon as a yes man, sidekick, or extension of another character who is incapable of making decisions for himself, which is such a degrading thing to experience for so long and explains why his character values himself so little.

This is a long one, heads up!

 I want to break up this dehumanization and commodification into three categories:

Tubbo is either a pawn (something to be used), a trophy(something to be owned), or a scapegoat(something to be blamed) to others.

Tubbo Seen as a Pawn:

Wilbur loved Tubbo, but his treatment of him during the Pogtopia arc was definitely sad to see. (Note: Wilbur was spiraling and his mental health was in shambles. He couldn’t help his paranoia and he deserved way better than the ending he got, but that doesn’t absolve the effects of his actions on others). First he took Tubbo on as a spy, a very dangerous role that landed him dead, but throughout Tubbo’s service Wilbur saw him as an obedient pawn, while not a loyal one. A pawn ready to turn to whatever authority figure commanded him best. His remarks about Tubbo being a yes man back this up, and the way he warns Tommy that Tubbo will betray them erases all of Tubbo’s identity and reduces it to that of a spy (again, this is born of Wilburs paranoia, this isn’t his fault).

Dream made it very clear that he regarded Tubbo as lesser than a toy, so obedient and trusting that he wasn’t worth keeping alive because he was so boring to him. The whole speech about Tubbo being worthless wasn’t even directed at him despite him being right there. Dream only addressed Tommy as if he was the one whose opinion on Tubbos fate mattered.

Jack Manifold literally used Tubbo’s trust to attempt to kill Tommy, saying that he was a sweet guy but way too gullible. No better way to treat someone as a pawn to further ones own agenda than by literally using them. (Him talking about how he’d be there to comfort Tubbo after the assisted murder of his best friend still mildly disturbs me).

Quackity managed to talk Tubbo into going through with the Butcher Army, using Tubbo’s power to further Quackity’s agenda (which, by Quackity’s own admission, did not revolve around the protection of L’manburg.) Quackity didn’t care that Tubbo was against violence, and pushed his concerns to the side in favor of his own ideas and kept comparing Tubbo to Schlatt whenever he acted in a way he disagreed with.

Speaking of, THE CONSTANT DISREGARD OF HIS DECISIONS AS PRESIDENT. His Cabinet never listened to him and lowkey every stream they had together was a bit frustrating to me (I’m also a sensitive bitch). They didn’t respect him in any way and undermined his authority UNTIL THEY NEEDED HIM TO SAVE EVERYONE’S LIFE. (Elaborated on in Scapegoat Category).

Technically, as much as I am a Tommy apologist, Tommy’s constant insistence that the Disc War needed to involve Tubbo kind of fits under this category. As much as Tubbo was happy to help, his involvement wasn’t really necessary, but Tommy needed someone to help him. This involvement nearly resulted in his willing death.

The only reason Dream even wanted to kill Tubbo, on top of perceiving him as useless, was to hurt Tommy and give him something of a “hero origin story” like Batman and his parents or Spider-Man and Uncle Ben. So, literally by Dream’s definition, he wanted to fridge Tubbo.

We could refer to Wilbur assigning Tubbo to presidency as Wilbur using him to make the explosion of L’manburg hurt more, but that feels like a stretch to me.

This may be a stretch, but after Tubbo is executed and Tommy starts getting mad at Technoblade, Wilbur eggs Tommy on by saying “Think of what he did to Tubbo,” while Tubbo is literally right there. His emotions on the event doesn’t matter to Wilbur, only how it impacted Tommy.

Tubbo Seen as a Prize/Trophy

The constant referral of Tubbo as something to be owned by someone, like during Wilburs speech of “he’s your Tubbo!”, is a bit off putting though I don’t think it’s meant to be malicious. Very rarely is the sentiment reversed, seen when Ghostbur gave Tubbo the Your Tommy compass, furthering the idea that Tubbo is an object, something to be sought after and secured with little opportunity for him to own something himself. It’s always “Tommy’s Tubbo”. Also when Schlatt gloated about having “his very own Tubbo”.

Tommy shows more possessive behaviors when dealing with the discovery of Ranboo and Tubbo’s marriage, asking about permission and insisting that Ranboo stole Tubbo from him. I’m sure this is subconscious, I know Tommy values Tubbo as a person but he still reduces Tubbo to an object to guard because he treasures his friend.

Another more vague example would be the fact that Schlatt exiled Wilbur and Tommy, but kept Tubbo as his right hand man even though it was clear he was on POG2020’s side. It was a way to insult Tommy, a way for Schlatt to add salt to the wound by keeping his best friend.

The Dream Team captured Tubbo very early into the Revolution, keeping him in a hole and holding him for ransom (this could be played off for laughs, I just remembered it). They also burned down his base, unrelated really but I remember it.

We could also count the way that Dream kept threatening to kill Tubbo if Tommy didn’t return the disc, but this feels like a mixture of pawn and prize, while still dehumanizing as it compares his value to that of music discs.

Yes, I am going to take c!Tommy joking about killing Michael to get Tubbo and Ranboo to break up so he can get Tubbo back seriously. The way he glared at Michael while holding an axe was just for the stream to see, if it was a joke I feel like he would have said it out loud. Even if it is a joke, laughing about taking something Tubbo loves away just to ruin his relationships is a bit yikes and frames Tubbo as something to be won back. You can ignore this if you didn’t see that moment as canon, but there are plenty of signs pointing to this being in character. (Also to be noted, Tubbo didn’t want to show Michael to Tommy, so Tommy ignored him and asked Ranboo instead, who immediately showed Tommy to Michael despite Tubbo’s clear worries)

Tubbo seen as a Scapegoat

His cabinet flip flopped back and forth on the decision to exile Tommy every five seconds. Whenever they spoke with Tubbo, they were all “You’re right! We’re going to listen to you! We have to do what’s right!” and then they hear a half baked plan and completely switch up on what they already agreed to do. (This happened twice. One at the sit down meeting where Tommy revealed Spirit and the cabinet joined Tommy in his mocking, only to blame him for how the meeting ended. Twice at the exile). So when Tubbo had to follow the original plan to, you know, make sure their country wasn’t put under lock and key until every citizen was eventually killed, his cabinet acted so shocked and betrayed and he was Schlatt and a dictator. It’s very true that he went against their plan (THAT THEY MADE FIVE MINUTES BEFOREHAND AFTER HAVING ALREADY AGREED TO THE FIRST PLAN FOR DAYS), but the way they treated him afterwards, as if he was a vile person for keeping his country safe, heavily impacted Tubbo’s mental state for a long time after. What I’m saying is Tubbo was set up to be the villain in that scenario, accidentally by his allies, and purposefully by Dream.

Tubbo was blamed for the destruction of L’manburg by Dream and a few others (also himself)

TUBBO IS CONSTANTLY BLAMED FOR THE BUTCHER ARMY ARC DESPITE IT BEING COMPLETELY THOUGHT OF AND LEAD BY QUACKITY (This is predominately fandom based).

The full blame for Tommy’s exile has rested on Tubbo (I will never forget Tommy calling him a monster), despite the fact he was manipulated and backed into a corner by Dream. Even when everyone has come to understand that Tommy was manipulated by Dream, the same doesn’t go for Tubbo and he’s hit with “imagine exiling your best friend” jokes many times.

Wilbur puts the decision of blowing people up at the festival on Tubbo’s shoulders, absolving him of the blame.

Schlatt made Tubbo tear down the L’manburg walls and the important signs so he could have to deal with the blame (though Quackity took the fall for this).

This is more theory based, but I fully believe Wilbur made Tubbo president right in front of Techno to egg him on to attack L’manburg. Since Tubbo would be the president, he would take the full brunt of Techno’s wrath (and he and Tommy did), and the destruction fell onto him.

So! With my text evidence we can see a recurring pattern in the way that Tubbo has been used by many people over the history of the server without much regard for his feelings. There are very few times when people besides Tommy ask how Tubbo feels about a situation, leaving him to his dark thoughts without anybody caring. Even during the Final Disc War, when Tubbo was literally moments from death, nobody asks how he is. Nobody (except Quackity once) checks up on him, and he builds up his community by himself. Until Ranboo came along, and I am not overexaggerating this, nobody was with Tubbo to support him. He had no support system and nobody cared. They just assume that he is always fine and if he wasn’t, it isn’t their place to intervene. Tubbo is just not respected, feared, or acknowledged unless he has someone by his side, or unless he’s doing something bad in which case he’s unhinged and evil and sure to have a villain arc.

This is just something to find interesting:

The only few characters Tubbo is actively involved with that hasn’t looked down on him as a sidekick or an object has been Foolish, Puffy, Ranboo and Technoblade. You could make an argument of how Technoblade referring to him as “government” could be dehumanizing but I don’t think I’ve actually seen him do that in character? I could be wrong though. Really, Technoblade takes him seriously, but way more seriously than c!Tubbo warrants. Like, he’s looking for a tyrant to beat up and Tubbo is literally just a guy with a lot of issues struggling to keep a handle on his cabinet, which I find funny. But, jokes aside, Technoblade saw Tubbo as a legitimate threat during his presidency and is respectfully cautious of him and his nukes presently, which is surprising to me. Ranboo adores Tubbo and all of his chaos that people are unaware of because they don’t get to know him well enough. Puffy just wants the best for all the kids of the server and knows how to be respectful of their feelings, and Foolish is respectful of Tubbo, if a bit annoyed and intimidated by him.

The point of this essay is just to show that there is a pattern to these things. This is how Tubbo is treated, this is why Tubbo is prepared to die for whatever because because he doesn’t feel he’s worth anything while alive, and this is why it’s frustrating to see characters call him a follower, pawn, or yes man. And here’s the thing: I DONT KNOW WHY THEY TREAT HIM LIKE THIS??? Why him? I can’t really find out why this started to happen.

To sum some things up, no I don’t think every character who treats him poorly is completely evil. Again, some of this seems to be subconscious, some of this could be argued to be OOC, I just wanted to bring this pattern to light.

[tamagoincident]

To Lure a Bird

arthur morgan x reader

summary: The Van der Linde Gang plans to rob a train, too bad you hit it first. You, being the reasonable person you are, coerce rough-looking men to run a job with you in exchange for the stolen money, and everyone gets more than they bargained for.

chapter: 2/10

link: AO3

Chapter Two - The Man Who Makes All the Decisions

Chapter content warning: brief encounter of sexual harassment

You awoke gasping in the night, heart pumping, heaving in lungfuls of stale air. The darkness of the Saints Hotel room pressed close. You’d dreamt about Emma and Henry again. 

Frightened as you were, you whispered to yourself that you were safe, that the dampness upon your brow was perspiration, and not the spatter of blood from Henry’s gunshot wound. That the screams seeping from the peeling walls were not Emma’s, but recalled from the etchings of your memory. You collapsed back onto the sheets and pulled the blanket over your shoulders, shuddering hard against the nausea prickling in your stomach and praying for sleep to find you once more.

—

Arthur stood at the bar in Smithfield’s Saloon, casual in the way he leaned over it. How at ease he appeared, unapologetic in his taking space. You choked on your envy, allowing yourself to wonder what it’s like to do whatever you wanted, wherever you pleased, unescorted. This feeling climbed as the man seated closest to the entrance pulled his chair out fully in your direction, reclining with his thighs spread. You tightened your grip on the handle of your travel bag and kept your revulsion from showing too much. Folk like that chased any sort of reaction, like they chased down drink after drink.

Ernest waved you over, having noticed how quiet the room fell when you’d walked in through the swinging doors. Arthur remained fixated on his glass despite the change in atmosphere, spinning it idly atop the nicked wood, taking more stock in it than in his surroundings. His voice cut across the idle chatter from the tables. “You even wash these?”

“Funny you ask,” Ernest said, wiping down the bar with a rag. “We’re in the market for a dishwasher. You look right fit for the job.” He abandoned his task at your approach to reach towards one of the dozens of bottles lining the shelves behind him, but you held up a hand to stop him. You needed your full wits to do something as illogical as you were about to, potentially letting a stranger lead you to God-Knows-Where to meet God-Knows-Who, with the pistol shoved in your right boot acting as your sole reassurance.

“So you’re a comedian now, mister? Didn’t realize I was getting dinner and a goddamn show.” Arthur knocked back his shot of whiskey and put the glass down on the bar. You set your bag at your feet and settled yourself in the space beside him. Through the aroma of decades of liquor soaked into the timber of the saloon, you caught a whiff of soap and freshly scrubbed skin. 

“Cursin’ in front of women,” Ernest said, acknowledging you. “Ain't your daddy ever taught you manners?”

“Say that again,” Arthur growled and smacked both palms on the counter, moments away from hopping over it. You cleared your throat before he could hitch a leg up. He turned and froze, as if it surprised him that anyone else was in the saloon at all, let alone you in your best (and only) dress.

The disturbance had caused a bit of rubbernecking your way. While Ernest rattling the clients was always an entertaining diversion, (and privately, you would have seized the opportunity to see Arthur try to throttle him, the mountain of a man Ernest was) an all-out saloon-brawl was counterproductive to anything you’d arrived there to do. The situation had to be defused, and fast.

“I’m not a delicate flower, I won’t wilt from a little profanity,” you said. “It didn’t offend me to hear him swear the first time we’d met, and it doesn’t offend me now.”

Arthur looked at you. His expression turned from confused to even more confused. Clearly he hadn’t recognized you from your previous encounter. Taking pity on him, you helpfully concealed your nose and mouth with your sleeve, resembling the scarf you’d worn when he met you. He rubbed the back of his neck in embarrassment. You dug four bits from your skirt pockets, sliding them onto the counter to Ernest. “For this man’s next drink.”

“Couldn’t tell it was you without the get-up you was wearing the last time,” Arthur grumbled, and accepted the second shot of whiskey, placated for now, “or without the rifle.”

The rifle wasn’t concealable, and it hadn’t fit in the bag with your other travel necessities, so you left it with Ernest. You’d come back to Valentine to retrieve it later, at the right moment, along with half of the train score you had hidden away in a lockbox. “Had to try to look somewhat respectable for a negotiation. If there will be a negotiation, that is. Didn’t want to show up in my dusty travel clothes.”

“You look naïve, and an easy target to swindle,” he said, sparing a glance toward Ernest, who only cocked an eyebrow in response. Arthur cleared his throat. “Not that I’d do something like that. You see, I’m an itinerant worker, laid off from a factory—”

“Save it, please,” you said. “I’m not interested in divining who you really are or where you’ve come from. What I am interested in is whether you can help me with that offer we discussed. From your countenance, I assume your friend decided to take me up on it, against your better judgment.”

“What’s wrong with my countenance?”

“You’re scowling.”

“I ain’t,” he said, scowling. You put your hands up, conceding.

“He said he’d meet with you,” Arthur said. He brought the glass up to his lips. “Still decidin’ if I want to spin him a tale that I came to Valentine, but you never showed. Or, I could just rob you. I don’t think he’d mind that as much.”

“You just said you wouldn’t swindle me,” you accused.

The corner of Arthur’s mouth twitched, as if he wanted to laugh, but didn’t wish to act on it for fear of appearing too amicable. “You said we’d get half the money upfront?”

“Yes. You’ll get half if we can come to an agreement, and the other half once Emma is home safe.”

“I’m gonna be honest,” Arthur said. “We already went through an ordeal with that train, risking our skin to come up empty-handed. Now you want to pay us to risk it again with the score which should’ve been ours in the first place. This might end up being more trouble than it’s worth even with the seventy dollars you promised on top of it.”

“Hey lady, how much for your company?” A grunting voice emerged from behind you. You ignored it, too immersed in assessing the value of all your worldly possessions, your rifle among the other trinkets you had stashed away in different locations. You didn’t own land or assets to sell or put up for a loan. The single thing of monetary value in your possession was Henry’s wedding ring, and you’d hang before pawning that off. It’d been his dying request to return it to Emma. They’d only been married for five months when he was killed.

“I said, how much?”

Ernest jabbed his finger at him. “You best shut your mouth and sit back down ‘fore I drag you out of here, you drunken fool.”

 “Weren’t talkin’ to you.” A hand clapped on your right shoulder, jerking you backwards. “I was talkin’ to this uppity bitch—”

You only had a brief moment to recognize the man as the one from earlier who’d leered at you. In the next second, he was flat on the ground, clutching his newly crooked nose. Arthur was towering over him, shaking out the soreness of the impact from his hand. He bent down and, without so much as a word, wiped his bloodstained knuckles on the howling degenerate’s shirt. Apart from his slightly mussed hair and the wild promise of barely restrained ire lurking in his eyes, an eerie calmness rolled off of him.

So much for preventing a brawl. 

“You broke it! You fuckin’ broke it!”

“Hey,” someone piped up from the cards table. “Ain’t that the feller who damn near beat Tommy to death the other day when Hubert was workin’?”

“That was you Hubert was talkin’ about?” Ernest said to Arthur. “You owe us money for the window you smashed through, my friend.”

“How much was it to replace?” you said. “I can pay—”

More wailing. “I’m gonna skin you alive!”

“You know, Tommy ain’t been right since,” another person called out. “He may be an imbecile, but he’s our imbecile! You think it’s fun beatin’ on all of us?”

People were getting out of their seats. “Yeah!”

“Let’s go,” Arthur barked at you amid the jeering.

“My bag—” you said, surveying around your feet for your belongings. In the chaos, Arthur had grabbed it for you and was heading to the door. You struggled not to trip over your skirts in pursuit, casting one last apologetic look to Ernest, who seemed like he wanted to go after you. 

Arthur stood outside, unhitching his horse from the post. The temptation arose to make a jest, to smooth the terse silence with something guaranteed to irritate him further. You swallowed it and instead listened to the bustle of wagons and barking of stray dogs. 

“Grab your horse,” he said. “You can follow me. We got a bit of a ride south from here. Can’t for the life of me figure out why he wants me to lead you to camp, but I’m tired of arguin’ with him.”

You wondered who exactly Arthur was referring to. At the Trading Post, he’d hinted at a leader of sorts, the one who had yet to be named. You thought to ask for it, but there was a more pressing issue at hand. “I don’t have a horse. Not since my last one ran off.”

“She doesn’t own a horse,” he said to no one in particular, a moment of exasperation to the universe perhaps, if you had to guess. “How the hell you been getting around? Hot-air balloon?”

“Much less exciting than that, I’m afraid. Trains and stagecoaches. Sometimes I borrow a horse from Ernest. Sometimes I ‘borrow’ from strangers and return their horses before they’re missed.”

“I’m not even gonna pretend all that trouble you put yourself up to makes any sense,” Arthur grunted in response, strapping your bag to his saddle. “Alright, then. Come here.”

You didn’t move. In your hesitation, you considered beginning your rescue plan anew, using the train money to pay for hired guns, which you had wanted to avoid. If the first meeting between the two of you had gone well, the incident in the saloon had gone every bit as astray. But Arthur had intervened on your behalf, which you appreciated, regardless of the issue it had caused. You thought if there was any chance of a man caring whether or not Emma made it back alive, he was it. And there was the small detail of the score you lifted off his hands. You imagined it wouldn’t go over well if you offered it to another group.

Arthur placed the tip of his boot in the stirrup and hoisted himself up and over the saddle. He lowered his hand. This, you accepted with thanks and up you went onto the back of the horse. At this proximity, the scent of soap you’d noticed in the saloon was stronger. You couldn’t remember the last time you met a man who bathed with any regularity, let alone bathed at all.

“Might want to hold on to somethin’,” Arthur murmured. Your hands scrambled for purchase on the cantle as the horse fell into a trot. 

And off you both went, past the gun shop and the train station, the muddy roads shifting into dusty trails the further Valentine receded from view. You were glad to quit the miserable little town if only for a moment, and though you hadn’t any high expectations for your destination, you hoped it smelled better.

“You mentioned you’re taking me to a camp. How big is it?” you asked.

“Suppose you’ll find out soon enough,” came the curt reply. 

“Then, how many people are with you? Besides you and your friend.”

“Ain't you full of questions,” Arthur said. The pistol hidden in your boot felt heavier. It might be enough to fend off several people if they decided to take back by force what they believed to be theirs, but an entire camp? You reprimanded yourself for not thinking this whole thing through.

The horse veered left. Though you sat quietly, your mind was rife with uneasy thoughts. The sun blazed high in the sky, but it would soon begin its descent. You wish you’d asked to meet earlier, having not considered where you would lay your head down tonight, especially if your offer was declined. In all likelihood you’d end up sleeping propped up against a tree in the good company of hungry mosquitoes. Or hitching a twilight ride back to the Saints Hotel with some shifty wagoner. It wouldn’t be the first time you’d done either.

Arthur said something, which you were too deeply absorbed in your misgivings to have caught. You asked him to repeat himself. “I said, it’s not too much further now.” 

The horse picked up its pace. Suddenly you were aware of the soreness in your biceps from straining to grip the back of the saddle. Squeezing your thighs harder to maintain balance, you wrapped your arms around Arthur’s torso. If the unexpected contact startled him, he did not show it.

“I never thanked you earlier,” you said.

“For what?”

“Quieting that fellow back in the saloon.”

“I reckon you could’ve done it yourself. One minute you’re firin’ a rifle in my direction. Next, you’ve gone all feeble and quiet.”

“If I rose hell whenever someone pestered me, sir, I wouldn’t be here to pester you.”

This earned you a laugh. You felt sorry you weren’t able to see it. “It’s Arthur Morgan,” he corrected. 

Arthur Morgan. You’d known to call him Arthur from that friend Marston of his, but now that you knew both names, you thought it sounded familiar. You racked your recent memory for it, coming up empty. It was a common enough name, anyway. 

“You ain’t told me your name,” he added.

“That’s right, Mr. Morgan. I didn’t,” you said. And that was that.

—

“Coming through,” Arthur shouts as the horse slows. You crane your head to see who he’s speaking to when you spotted a man stepping into the clearing, adjusting the bowler hat atop his head with his left hand and swinging a rifle with his right. Your arms slipped away from around Arthur’s waist, back to gripping the cantle for support.

“My my, what’s this? Returning with a girl before the sun goes down,” he says with a wide grin. “You’re getting romantic in your old age.”

Arthur groaned. “Do you ever shut up? You fill every waking moment with your nonsense.”

The grin grew impossibly wider. Tilting his head up towards you and Arthur, you were just close enough to make out this man’s freckles beneath the shadow cast by his hat’s brim. “I’ve plenty of time for peace and quiet when I’m six feet under.”

“Just another reason to hasten you there,” Arthur said, then, softly to his horse, “Come on, girl.”

“He doesn’t really mean that, you know. He loves me,” the man called as you passed by, “Isn’t that right, Arthur? Like an older brother, I’d say!”

The horse stopped at a hitching station just beyond the camp entrance. Off you went from the rear of it, lowering yourself until your boots hit the grass. “Quite the lively introduction,” you said to Arthur.

“That boy is too busy cracking jokes and chasing skirts to do much of anything useful,” he said, dismounting. 

“He’s amusing,” you said. “It’s a breath of fresh air from all the prickly folks around these parts. Look at them wrong and they’ll be twitching for their gun.”

“About as amusing as an insect buzzing in your ear.” Arthur led you to a table, gesturing to the folding stools. “You can sit here a moment. And don’t talk to no one.”

You peered down at the tabletop, noticing copper stains that had long seeped into the wood. “Is that blood?”

Arthur shrugged. “Or you can stand, if that’s your preference.”

You tracked him as he made his way straight to the center of camp, to the largest of the surrounding fixtures, a cream-colored tent that stood proudly over all the rest, watchful. He stopped at the entrance, waiting for the dark figure inside to turn towards Arthur as they stooped slightly, perhaps to grab something. 

The figure emerged finally, joining Arthur outside of the tent’s shade. Sunlight beamed against glittering rings on fingers wrapped around a smoking cigar. You squinted.

Oh God, you thought. That’s Dutch van der Linde. You read about him in the New Hanover Gazette. Your mind ran miles per second as you put bits of information together. You had passed his face on wanted posters during your travels, passed Arthur’s too, lingering above a five-thousand dollar reward for one of the largest heists in Blackwater history. A heist that had seen a dozen or more people dead. And now you were in their camp, a camp that bounty hunters across several states would pay a pretty penny to find.

Those wanted faces turned to you. Arthur waved you over. Your legs grew heavy, rooting themselves to the ground. You had a decision to make.

[noladyme]

The Wife - Chapter 1

It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a wife. As rumors spread that Mr. James Delaney had returned to England – making a dramatic arrival at his father’s funeral – you might imagine mothers throughout London, rushing to present their marriable daughters to the man. They did not; and for three very good reasons. First; James Keziah Delaney was clearly damaged from his travels, and not a little dangerous. Secondly; it was the general opinion of the better society that Mr. Delaney had inherited his mother’s madness. Thirdly; Mr. Delaney was not single. In fact, he was very much married.

TW: angst, violence, blood, smut (6573 words)

It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a wife. As rumors spread that Mr. James Delaney had returned to England – making a dramatic arrival at his father’s funeral – you might imagine mothers throughout London, rushing to present their marriable daughters to the man. They did not; and for three very good reasons.

First; James Keziah Delaney was clearly damaged from his travels, and not a little dangerous. Strange reports were made of late night magic rituals, and more than once the gentleman had been seen with red stained hands – though it was unclear whether the stains stemmed from blood, or the powders he would use to draw markings on his face.

Secondly; it was the general opinion of the better society that Mr. Delaney had inherited his mother’s madness; and no one wanted to risk a familiar connection with a woman who ended her days in Bethlem Royal Hospital – in common tongue, Bedlam Insane Asylum.

Thirdly; Mr. Delaney was not single. In fact, he was very much married.

---

Rosalind was seated in front of the small fireplace in her room at Mrs. Owen’s boarding house, fiddling with the garnet ring she wore on the long finger of her right hand. The fire had long since gone out, but she hadn’t the stamina or even will to get up and feed the dying embers with more wood. As it was, the cold she felt streaming through her veins went well with the chill of the room.

In her hand, she held a letter sent by Mr. Thoyt; the lawyer of her late father-in-law. She’d read it twice; and then once more, just to see if she had not been mistaken.

To; Rosalind Beauchamp c/o Mrs. Fanny Owen

Dear Madam, I sincerely hope this letter finds you well, as I received information that your absence from the funeral of your late father-in-law, was due to an ailment of some kind. Had you attended, I had a seat saved for you in the front pew, where it would have been proper for the heiress of Mr. Horace Delaney to be seated. Alas, I had to take the seat myself, as to not leave it unused; and make the fullness of the pews in the church seem uneven.

Rosalind rolled her eyes at this. There was no doubt in her mind that Thoyt would have filled the seat right next to her, if she had been there; claiming that would be proper, as he was the executor of the elder Delaney’s will.

I should like to extend the well wishes of Mr. Thorne Geary, who has asked if it would be in your wish to promenade with him one of the coming days. I counsel you to accept his visit; as you know he has only your well-being in mind, and bears warm sentiments towards you.

These sentiments Rosalind was well aware of; and was in fact doing her best to avoid the man, so she would not have to spend another drawn out visit, avoiding the topic of widows and widowers remarrying.

It is my hope that your ailment is not of the heart, for I fear I have rather disturbing news to pass on to you; and would not want to make you even more frail. I must inform you that James Keziah Delaney has returned to London. He arrived at the funeral service shortly before the minister began his sermon. These past ten years have changed him much, but it is indeed him.

James. After 3 years as a scorned wife, with a runaway husband, and then 7 more as a widow; he’d returned. A hard knot had formed in her stomach as she read on.

My dear, I urge you to avoid any contact with Mr. Delaney. He is, I reiterate, very different than the gentleman you knew; and from the looks of him, more beast than man. I will be happy to offer any legal aid you might need to separate from him, and fight for your inheritance. James Delaney was proclaimed dead 7 years ago; but as he has been gone for so long, I am sure we can find some legal way to proclaim you continued sole heiress of the Delaney fortunes – among them, the rights to the area in America known as Nootka Sound. I should like to call on you at your earliest disposal. With regards; Robert Thoyt, solicitor.

Rosalind’s hands were shaking, as she held on to the letter. She got on her feet, gazing at the intricately decorated chest in front of the bed in her small room. It had been a gift from her father-in-law; one that he had purchased on one of his many travels. It was the only gift she had ever received from the man, that hadn’t been given out of some sense of responsibility to her. She laid down the letter on the bedside table, and walked over and opened the chest. Moving around gloves, fabrics, unfinished embroidery works, and small boxes of beads and trinkets; she reached the bottom of the chest, where a for years untouched muslin gown lay, next to a veil of fragile lace. She pulled out the delicate dress, and laid it on the bed. It still had a dark stain on the front, from where the minister had spilt wine on her, as her husband and she had taken communion together after being wed. Once outside the church, James had stroked his index finger over the red stain – which was just over the left breast, and smiled. “It matches your lips, Rose”, he’d said; and her distress over having her wedding gown ruined in such a manner, left way to happiness. The way any woman should feel on her wedding day. She hadn’t realized she was crying, until another stain disgraced the muslin; one from a tear.

It was all too much to believe. This man, whom she’d cherished with a naïve and young heart, had suddenly reappeared, after being proclaimed dead. She had to see if it was true; if it was truly him.

There was a knock on the door, and Mrs. Owen stepped inside; her large figure filling the doorway. “Lunch is ready, miss Beauchamp”, she said. “Thank you, but I will be going out”, Rosalind said. Mrs. Owen smiled brightly. “Will you be meeting Mr. Geary, then?”, she asked. “I will not”. “Mr. Thoyt?”. Rosalind had become a master at keeping her composure in regards to her nosy landlady; but today she was a little less inclined to be polite. “It is a private matter. Please call a carriage for me”, she said shortly, and the stout woman recoiled slightly at her tone. “Right away, miss”.

After the door closed again, Rosalind stripped off her plain, cotton day dress, and put on a dark blue gown; more suited for an afternoon visit. She shrugged off her inclination to wear the red gown. That would be too much. Her dark grey jacket, a purse and a capote to match, finished her ensemble. Her boots weren’t much to speak of, but they kept her feet mostly dry; though the soles were wearing thin.

The carriage was waiting for her outside the boarding house. She asked the driver to take her back to her former home.

---

Chamber House was even more dreary than when she’d been there last. The smell from the river running behind the house struck her nose, and Rosalind felt a chill go through her body. Trying to open the metal gate, she had to lean against it; putting her whole weight on the rusty thing. It made a loud screeching sound, when it finally opened.

The garden in front of the house was unkempt, and the windows on the bottom floor had been boarded up. For a moment, she considered leaving, as the building seemed abandoned. Maybe Thoyt had been mistaken, and the man at the funeral was an imposter. Smoke from the chimney let Rosalind know that someone was inside, but she had also heard stories of mudlarks roaming empty houses for warmth and the occasional cat that could be made in to dinner. This wasn’t a place for proper ladies, as countess Musgrove would say, but the countess was hardly a proper lady herself, and Rosalind had business to attend.

She went up the few steps to the door, and took a deep breath, before knocking on the door. There was the sound of a dog barking, and then some shuffling around, followed by a voice muttering at the dog. The door opened, and a slight, tired looking man appeared in front of her. “Brace…”, Rosalind greeted him quietly. The old butler stood seemingly dumbfounded at her arrival. She looked up at the sky. “It seems about to rain. May I please come in?”. “Of course, ma’am", Brace muttered, and stepped aside.

The grand hallway was less grand than it had been, years before. The house seemed dark and cold, and Rosalind did not feel inclined to take of her hat or jacket, when Brace reached for them. “I won’t be staying long”, she said. “I just came to see… Is it true? Is he back?”. “He is…”, Brace said with a nod. “This last week". “And you didn’t feel it necessary to inform me?”. Brace looked at the floor in front of him, and fidgeted with the hem of his tattered jacket. “He is changed, Mrs. Delaney…”, Brace began. “Miss Beauchamp”, Rosalind corrected him. Brace recoiled at this, but kept his expression as indifferent as possible. “Yes, miss”.

Rosalind walked towards the sitting room with as much calm as she could muster. “Is he here?”, she asked. “No”, Brace replied. “He is… on business. I don’t know when he’ll return”. “I’ll have to wait, then”, Rosalind sighed. Brace stepped in front of her. “Ma’am… Miss”, he said. “You shouldn’t. James isn’t… He is not the young man you knew”. “And I’m not the girl he knew either”, Rosalind retorted. “In any case, I need to speak with him…”. Brace must have seen the determination on her face, because he stepped aside, and let Rosalind enter the room.

It was dark, and smelled of a mixture of spices, whiskey; and wet firewood and ashes – only slightly taking away from the smell of the river. The furniture was the same, though damaged from the moisture seeping through the walls from the Thames. A large grey dog rested by the unlit fireplace, and lifted its head slightly as she entered. Though it had made its presence known earlier, it seemed to be more bark than bite; and simply let out a huff, as she seated herself on the sofa. It raised its eyes to look at her, and she smiled slightly at it; feeling like she got a sort of smile in return. “Tea, miss?”, Brace asked. “No, thank you”, Rosalind said. “Good. We don’t have any”, the butler smiled. “And from what I remember, you prefer coffee”. His expression had warmed, since he’d apparently accepted that Rosalind had no intention of leaving. She suspected he was trying to soften the blow of whatever she was about to face. “That sounds lovely. Thank you, Brace”.

After the butler had disappeared, Rosalind took some time to get reacquainted with the room in which she’d spent many hours, years before. Seated on this same couch, she’d kept her father-in-law company, as he rambled about his business and how everyone was trying to cheat him. She’d had tea with uninteresting ladies from all over town, who all came with well wishes after the wedding, combined with insincere regrets upon the departure of her husband, so soon after. The same night, in fact. A whole year she’d managed to keep her sanity in the house, which became draftier and drearier almost by the second. When his son had up and left suddenly, the elder Delaney had gone into a strange bout of melancholy; almost seeming to feel guilty about the fact. Rosalind did her best to keep up the façade of a good wife and daughter-in-law, but found it harder and harder to keep up with Mr. Delaney’s moods, and when the letters from her husband stopped, she found no reason to stay in the house any longer. She would visit weekly, but never for long, as the old man seemed rather indifferent to whether she was there or not, and mostly stared into the fireplace, and muttered to himself.

Horace Delaney had made sure she received an allowance to keep up with expenses; but 4£ a month did not stretch far. In the end, Rosalind had taken up work as a chaperone and occasional tutor to young ladies in the south-east of England – never straying too far from London.

Two years after leaving the Chamber House, Rosalind received a letter, letting her know that her husband was suspected dead in a shipwreck. The news hit her painfully hard. Deep down, she had always hoped that James would return to her one day, even after he was thought of as dead; though rationally, she knew better. She’d dreamed of him often. He was always at a distance, always out of reach. It was agony to miss him so. Now, he had returned, and as it was, clearly not for his wife.

Soon after, her visits became rarer. The elder Delaney more or less ignored her when she came, and more than once, he’d asked Brace to tell her to leave, while she was still in the room; so he could get back to work. She’d attended Zilpha's wedding, but the two had never been close; merely friendly acquaintances, with a dead brother and husband in common. Once Zilpha had passed, after a sudden disease that made her seem old beyond her years in just weeks, Horace made it clear he had no wish to see any kind if family; so for two years, Rosalind had stayed away from Chamber House.

Until today.

Brace returned with a tray of coffee and biscuits that looked hard enough to crack a tooth on. Out of sheer politeness, Rosalind picked up one, and dipped it in her cup of coffee, to soften the treat. Brace threw a biscuit at the dog, who gulped it up without much trouble chewing it. Rosalind dropped her biscuit on the floor herself, and the dog got up, and slowly walked over to eat it. It lifted its head, and looked at her; and she timidly scratched it behind its ear.

Suddenly, it turned its head, and looked towards the hallway. The door opened, and a gust of wind blew through the house; making it sound like the building was whimpering, as it passed through the cracks in the walls. A dark figure stepped into the hallway; the sound of his boots loud as canons. A long coat covered his broad frame, and he wore a hat; pushed forward on his head, and hiding his face in shadow. “Brace! Coffee…”, he ordered; his hoarse voice leaving very little trace of the raspy, warm one Rosalind remembered. Brace hurried to greet his master, and took his hat and coat. Rosalind sat very still, with bated breath and beating heart. “In the sitting room, but… sir, you have a guest”, Brace said. “I’m not inclined to receive anyone. Tell them to go away”. “You will want to see her… Maybe”. Rosalind got on her feet, and slowly turned to face the doorway.

James Delaney had indeed changed. Gone was the young gentleman, with the boyish charm and nervous smile; and instead, there stood a bearded, brute man, who had danger and darkness written all over his expression. A scar ran from his brow, and down over his eye and cheek.

Yet, she could not find a flaw on him. He was even more striking than the day they’d met. Love and pain streamed through her body. James took one look at his wife; nodded, and let out a breathy grunt. “Rosalind…”, he said. “James…”, she breathed; trying to keep her composure. Rosalind felt as if she might faint at any moment. She regretted coming to see him, and unsure what had been her reason. But now she was here, as was he; and internally, she struggled not to throw herself into his arms, or attack him with the fire poke.

Rosalind sat back down, and James took his place in what had been his father’s chair, opposite her; looking at the dog. He took a biscuit, and threw it in the air. The dog caught it, and gobbled it down. Brace went over to the samovar, and looked at Rosalind. “More coffee, miss Beauchamp?”, he asked. James eyes flew towards Rosalind, and then down at the ring adorning her right hand; and something hard ghosted his face. She immediately regretted not having worn gloves. “Yes. More coffee for miss Beauchamp, and then maybe a cup for your master, hmm?”, James said. “Of course, sir. And I’ve prepared a cod for dinner. Atticus brought it”. James replied with a grunt, and Brace poured coffee for them. “Will you be staying, miss?”. “No, thank you Brace. My landlady is expecting me at the boarding house”, Rosalind said. Once again, James gave her an unreadable, hard look.

Brace stood uncomfortably by the fireplace, before finally pretending to remember something he had to see to, and scuttered off. James and Rosalind sat in silence for a long moment. Trying to calm herself, Rosalind took a sip of her coffee. “I was told you died”, she said quietly. “I did”, James replied, and drank the entire content of his cup in one go. “You’re a widow, miss Beauchamp”. Rosalind’s cheeks flushed red. “It was easier to use my maiden name…”. “To separate yourself from my father, or me…?”, James grunted. Rosalind looked down. “To start anew”, she whispered. “I had to start over, after you left”.

James seemingly ignored that last sentence. “You did not attend my father’s funeral”, he said, his eyes fixed on something on the far wall. You did not attend our wedding night, Rosalind wanted to reply; but thought the better of it. “I felt indisposed”, she said meekly. “Too indisposed to say a last farewell to the man who has been keeping up your expenses these last 10 years?”, James challenged. “Whom you were set to inherit this house and the rest of his fortune from?”. “I am not kept”, she retorted. James eyes flickered. “I felt indisposed to sit through a sham of a service set up by a lawyer, who had no love for the deceased; and to then have to avoid the wandering eyes of every man in the room, hoping to get his hand on said fortune. And me”.

James raised his brows at her, making the scar on his face even more prominent. “You’ve had suitors, then?”, he asked. “I’ve been a widow, not a nun”, Rosalind retorted, an angry edge to her voice. James’ lip twitched into a slight smile, which was gone as soon as it had arrived. “But never remarried…”, he said. “You know I didn’t…”. “You could have gone to France. Stayed with relatives there. They could have found a suitable match for you”. “I have no family to speak of in France. And I’ve never met any of the few I have”.

With a loud bang, James put one foot up on the ottoman in front of his chair, and pulled off his boot. “So, is that why you are here? Because you want to be married?”, he asked, and took off the other boot. “You said my husband was dead. It seems that is not an option”. Rosalind did not understand why uttering the words brought her as much pain as it did; but she felt something break inside her when she did. “Then why?”. “I need to know where I stand. Dead as you may be, here you are; and my situation is much different than I thought it to be”, she said. “It is clear that I am no longer the heiress of this… grand house, and your father’s holdings. To add to that is that, legally I am bound to you; and you to me…”. “I will keep up with your expenses”, James said, interrupting her. “How much was my father providing?”. Rosalind bit her cheek, and looked down again. “4£ a month”, she whispered.

James eyes widened. “My father only granted you 4£ a month?”, he said. “That is not much money for hats, lace gloves and whatnot”. “Don’t insult me, James”, Rosalind said. “You know full well that I couldn’t care less about hats and gloves”. “Do I? I have not seen you in ten years”, James shrugged. “And who’s fault is that?”, Rosalind hissed. “Hmm”, James muttered. “How have you been making a living? I take it you have had to take on employment? There aren’t many ways for a gentle woman to make money. I hope you have not been forced to solicit yourself”. His voice was cold, and his eyes traced her figure. “You are cruel…”, Rosalind said. “And you are not first to have uttered those words. Though; vicious and evil are more common, when I am spoken of". James took a sip of his coffee, and studied her face for a reaction. Rosalind kept her composure, surprising even herself at her ability to do so.

“You should know I have received a letter from Mr. Thoyt, your father’s lawyer", she said. James met her eyes again, narrowing his own. “He has offered me legal aid in regards to claiming your inheritance”. “Which you will accept, of course". James said. “No. I will not. It is not my inheritance. I didn’t even truly want it, when I thought you were dead". He looked down at her feet, and she instinctively pulled them backwards, and tried to cover them with her skirts. “You could have used it", James said. “I don’t want your family’s money. That was not why I married you".

James got on his feet abruptly, making it clear it was time for Rosalind to leave. She stood up, and walked towards the hallway; clutching her purse. “I will provide you with 15£ a month. I do not want you taking on employment with anyone anymore… no matter what it is”, James said. “Why do you care? Very few people know I am your wife; and I do not use your name”, Rosalind replied. “I will not be dragging it through the mud”. “Call it taking responsibility for my mistakes”, he said. “Is that what I am?”. Her voice was shaking at this point.

James met her eyes, and let out a short, audible breath. “Take yourself to a shoemaker, and have him make you some better boots”, he said. “The ones you have on, are almost worn out. Have them send the bill to me”. “No, thank you. I shall mend them”, Rosalind replied. She went to leave, but James put a hand on the doorhandle; and blocked her exit. “You will buy new boots, and I will see that your current accommodations are suitable”, he said, looking seriously at her. “You don’t know where I live”, Rosalind said. “I will find out”. There was no doubt in his voice, he was merely making a statement of fact.

James opened the door for her, but before she could exit, he stepped outside, and looked across the garden, and turned his head to gaze down the road; almost as if making sure no one was watching them. When he finally stepped aside, Rosalind walked down the steps; and turned to face him one last time. “James…”, she said. “Rose…”, he replied; making her breath hitch. His eyes warmed for a second, before he stepped back inside, and closed the door.

---

Rosalind had a strange dream that night.

She was walking along the shore of a muddied lake. A way out in the water, with his back to her, stood a broad-shouldered man with markings on his skin. He wore no clothes, save a cloth to cover his privates. A dark gravelly voice was speaking strange words she did not understand, and when she called out to the figure in the water, he turned around. He was the one speaking, but the words were sounding as if they were coming from somewhere very close; not from where he was standing.

She closed her eyes in fear, and when she opened them again, he was standing right in front of her. It was James, but he had a painted face, and his eyes were black. She closed her eyes again, and covered her face. A strong pair of hands grabbed her wrists, and pulled them down. “Look at me”, James said. “No… You’re dead”, Rosalind said. “Am I? I am here now…”. “You left me. And then you came back as someone else”.

She opened her eyes again, and saw James as she had seen him earlier that day. No paint on his face, and bright blue eyes. “I was always here”. He put his index finger on her forehead, and then just over her left breast. “And here…”. When he removed his hand, a red stain marked her nightgown. “It matches your lips, Rose”.

She woke up in a jolt, and held her hand to her chest. Looking down, she saw a red stain on her nightgown, just over her left breast.

Getting out of bed, Rosalind walked over to the washbasin, and splashed her face with the cold water. She rubbed at the stain with a moist finger, but all that did, was make it more prominent, and her nipple harden from the cold, damp fabric now covering it. She walked over to the window and looked outside. Across the street, she saw a dark figure; looking up towards her. She didn’t recognize the face, but the menacing glare she thought she could see from under the rim of the persons hat, made her instantly move backwards, and out of view of the window.

The bed felt cold and unwelcoming when she got back under the sheets.

---

As she finished her breakfast the next morning, Mrs. Owen came into the dining room, holding a medium sized parcel. “This came for you, miss. Might you have a secret admirer?”, she said. She handed Rosalind the parcel, and a letter. “And your mail”. Rosalind thanked her, and went up to her room, to examine the parcel, and read her letter in private.

Inside the parcel lay a pair of half boots, in soft, yet sturdy leather. They would keep Rosalind’s feet dry and warm, and it was clear they had not been cheap. There was no note attached to the gift; though gift might be the wrong word, as James seemed to see her more as a responsibility to take care of, rather than someone to bestow presents upon. She threw the boots in a corner, unable to define her emotions – anger or sadness, she was not sure. After a few moments of frustrated groans and a few stray tears, she walked over, and gingerly picked up the boots; dusting them off with her hand. She set them down on top of the chest.

Rosalind turned her attentions to her letter. The writing was in the blunt and crude, yet feminine hand and wording of countess Musgrove.

To; Rosalind Beauchamp c/o Fanny Owen

Dearest friend, It has come to my attention that you have recently been made aware of some rather disturbing news. An acquaintance of mine has informed me that your apparently not so late husband has returned to London. It seems to come at a terrible time, as you were so close to inheriting somewhat of a fortune; at least enough to attract a new husband. Am I mistaken in thinking Mr. Thorne Geary has taken an interest in you? In any case, please call upon me for tea this Friday afternoon, so we might play a round of cassino, and discuss your plans for your now much changed future.

Sincerely; Genevieve Musgrove, countess.

Rosalind let out a very unfeminine and impolite noise. She would rather take an ice bath of lime, than sit through another afternoon of the countess and her friends gossiping and filling their gobs with sweets. None the less, she was obliged to attend, to stay in Musgrove’s good graces; and have a chance for another employment with her. And it was not like she had a husband, who could give her a good excuse to stay away.

There was a knock on the door, and Mrs. Owen stepped inside. “You have a visitor, miss”, she said, a mischievous smile on her plump face. “Perhaps the green gown, for a promenade?”. “Mr. Geary, then?”, Rosalind sighed. “Indeed. And he has mentioned on many occasions, how lovely the green goes with your ten”. Rosalind cocked a brow at her landlady. “May I trouble your maid for help with preparing? I am finding myself out of sorts”. Mrs. Owen nodded, and left the room. Soon the young maid entered. “Please, will you fetch my blue gown?”.

---

Thorne Geary was waiting in the sitting room, politely smiling at Mrs. Owen; when Rosalind entered. “Miss Beauchamp! I came to enquire upon your health, after your absence from the funeral service”, he said. “Mr. Thoyt let me know you wished to call upon me; but I am quite sure I did not respond affirmatively”, Rosalind said. A dissatisfied expression ghosted Mr. Geary’s face. “Alas, I believe we have matters to discuss”, he said through an insincere smile. “Will you do me the honor of promenading with me?”.

A little while later, Mr. Geary and Rosalind were strolling along the lanes of Hyde Park. “Your gown is quite fetching, miss Beauchamp”, the gentleman proclaimed. “Almost as fetching as the green you wore when I last called upon you”. “I am unsure whether that is a compliment, or an insult”, Rosalind replied. Geary cleared his throat, clearly uncomfortable about her response.

“It was quite a shock to see James Delaney at the funeral”, Geary said. He was holding his arm in such a manner, that Rosalind was invited to take it. She ignored the gesture. “I am sure it was”, she muttered; and moved her body to put a little more distance between them. Geary stepped after her, and the smell of the herring he had obviously eaten earlier hit her nose. Rosalind detested herring. “I am sure it came as an even greater shock for you, my dear Rosalind”, he said. “Please, Mr. Geary. I do not think we are quite close enough acquaintances for pet names”. “Are we not family? In-laws?”, Geary smiled. “Now, more than ever, it would seem, as you… husband has reappeared”.

He gestured for them to walk down a smaller lane, away from curious ears. “Ever since we first met, I’ve felt a close connection to you”, Geary said. “And, then when my dear Zilpha passed… well, I must admit, I hoped we might build on that bond”. Rosalind felt bile rise in her throat. “Mr. Geary…”, she began. “Thorne, please…”, Geary insisted. “Mr. Geary!”, Rosalind said firmly. “This conversation is highly improper, and I beg of you to stop”.

Geary sighed, and looked down. “You know of my sentiments towards you. Those have not changed, merely because that savage, who forced matrimony on you years ago, is back”. “You do not know him”, Rosalind said quietly. “Neither do you. From what I am told, your courtship was very brief. There were even rumors of you being in unfortunate circumstances…”. Rosalind stopped in her tracks. “Gossip mongering, Mr. Geary? So much for close connections”, she said.

Geary stepped over to a bench in an alcove, and gestured for Rosalind to sit. “Please, miss Beauchamp… for I insist on still calling you that, and not Mrs. Delaney, if you will not let me call you by your first name”, he said. They sat down together; Rosalind aiming for sitting as far from her companion as she could. “I, of course, am well aware that your chasteness can never be questioned. You are beyond doubt the kindest, most virtuous woman I have had the pleasure to meet. Even as my betrothed walked up the aisle to become my wife, I could not take my eyes off you…”. “You should stop speaking”, Rosalind said. “Please, let me get this off my chest!”, Geary said. His voice was not pleading; but hard – and Rosalind was reminded of how her sister-in-law had wilted from a lively and smiling favorite in London society, to a grey ghost of her former self, after she married. In this moment, Rosalind knew that Mr. Geary had been the one to make his wife such.

Geary took a firm hold of her hand, and when she tried to pull it away, he grabbed her wrist; and continued his speech. “Delaney is mad. I have spoken to more than one sailor, who have told me stories, I cannot repeat in present company”, Geary said. “He should have stayed dead, and let you keep the inheritance. You and I could…”. “There is no you and I, Mr. Geary”, Rosalind tried.

Geary’s hand around her wrist tightened. “I know I am not a very wealthy man, but you and I… we both married in to the Delaney family; and we saw how that mad old bastard brought shame on the name”. “Perhaps we should have helped him, instead of standing by?”, Rosalind muttered; trying to keep herself calm, as the man held on to her. He leaned in closer, and his hot breath hit her face. “No… He got everything he deserved; and sired two wretches, who continued to do the same”. “How can you speak of your wife in such a manner?”. “She was a barren fool…”.

Rosalind finally pried herself free from Geary’s grasp, and stood up; but he grabbed her by the arm, and forced her to sit again. “Let me go”, Rosalind whimpered. She was sure to have marks on her arm after his manhandling her. Geary looked at her intently. “I can do much with the money I can make from selling that plot of land in America; and with you as my wife…”. “I am already married, sir!”, Rosalind sneered. “Are you? Delaney was back for more than a week, without letting himself be known to you. It wasn’t until Thoyt wrote you, that you knew. He hasn’t taken you in; you are still living in that boarding house”. A vile grin, which Geary clearly thought came across as calming, spread across his lips. “But, never mind that. That can all be taken care of”. “What is that supposed to mean?”. A knot had begun forming in the pit of Rosalind’s stomach, and she was shaking.

“You speak ill of my dear sister, and now you have intentions on my wife”. James appeared in front of them; a dark look about him. “Let her go”. “You interrupted our conversation, Mr. Delaney”, Geary said. “Is that what you were doing? Conversing? Or plotting my demise…”, James retorted. “In any case, you have your hands and mind on what is still mine. Release the lady”.

Rosalind tore herself from Geary, and got on her feet, moving away from the bench; and towards James. He gave her a look of dissatisfied confusion, and she went to stand next to him, her eyes on the ground. “You should have stayed dead”, Geary sneered, and got on his feet. He stood taller than James, but in no way seemed as dangerous as him. “Is that what you tell my sister, when she haunts your nightmares?”, James asked. Geary recoiled at James’ words; and James half turned towards Rosalind. “I will escort you back to your lodgings”, he said, and turned his back to Geary. Rosalind followed his lead, and they walked down the path. She felt Geary’s eyes on her back as they went.

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They walked in silence. Rosalind struggled to keep up with James’ long strides; and after a while, she stopped, and went to sit on a bench at the side of the lane. “I have things to do. If you need to catch your breath, then be quick about it”, James said. “You don’t have to escort me. Go about your business”, Rosalind retorted. “And risk the predators setting on you? Come now, we have eyes on us”. Rosalind looked around her, seeing no one but ladies, gentlemen, and the occasional governess taking a child on a stroll. “What eyes?”.

James narrowed his eyes for a moment, as if making a decision of whether to tell her more, or hold his tongue. In the end, he settled for continuing. “Your Mr. Geary made it clear”, he said. “He is not my Mr. Geary. I’d prefer to avoid the connection all together”, Rosalind retorted. “Hmm”, James grunted. “He made it clear, as I said. I am to be taken care of. There are evil men who are out to kill me”. “And my sore feet put you in danger?”. James seemed taken aback, and slightly amused at her retort. “Perhaps you should have worn your new boots”, he said, and stretched out his hand for her to stand. Rosalind was about to take it, when she saw that James had removed his glove. “Come…”, he said; and with her heart in her throat, she took his hand.

It was as warm as she remembered, and his touch sent the same shivers down her spine, as it had those many years before. As she stood in front of him, everything around Rosalind disappeared; and all she could see, was the man in front of her. She breathed him in. Musk, fresh tobacco, grass, dirt, coffee – and that undefinable thing that was merely him. “James…”, she whispered. James expression hardened, and his eyes became dark. “No… None of that. Do not make yourself a weakness”, he said. “And do not let me become one, either. You are too good for that”. “But you…”. James let go of her hand, and his face grew almost saddened. She looked down at his hand, and saw that the tip of his index finger was red. Rosalind let out a soft gasp; and when she opened her mouth to speak, he was already walking down the path again. He slowed his pace, so she could keep up; but did not speak to her for the rest of the walk.

Once back at the boarding house, Mrs. Owen met them in the door. “Going out with one gentleman, and coming back with another… Really, miss Beauchamp”, she said in a chiding voice. “Not a common occurrence, then?”, James said. Rosalind had to will herself not to slap him. Mrs. Owen raised a pair of cold eyes. “I beg your pardon… This is a proper establishment, sir!”, she exclaimed. “And who are you?”. “Her husband”.

Mrs. Owen looked stunned, and for once, she didn’t seem to know what to say. “You are… Well, that’s… You are recently wed, then?”, she asked. “No”, James said shortly. He looked at Rosalind one final time, before turning around, and walking away.

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