#i just. burn the stars trio i think about u.

[cream-and-tea]

man danny apollinaire and silas really are like. girl who has sharpened their pain to a laser-focused point that bores a hole both ways into a specific target and also themself, girl who expels all of her pain outwards into endless excess and inferno that burns everyone around her, boy who bleeds all his pain all over the ground because he doesn’t know how to stop but keeps trying to clean it up anyways even though he can’t staunch the flow. and they r all in love.

[gyupremacy]

Friends Can Break Your Heart Too | jjk. ft. kmg.

↳ Pairing(s): childhoodfriend!jk x reader (one sided), jk x oc, kim mingyu x reader

↳ Genre(s): angst (loosely based on "i hate u, i love u by gnash & olivia o'brien), fluff

↳ Au(s): first love au, non-idol au, college au, childhood friends, slow burn

↳ Word Count: 4.3k

↳ Rating: PG-15

↳ Warning(s): cursing, y/n coping with heartbreak (I'm telling you it gets gutwrenching), rejection, mentions of toxic friendships

↳ Summary: Getting rejected hurts. Even more, when it's your childhood friend turned crush... for your best friend.

↳ a/n: The amount of feels I felt while writing this 🥲 This is probably one of, if not, THE angstiest thing I've ever written. Thank you to @shina913 and @kthpurplesyou for letting me break your hearts before everyone else lol. Another thank you goes out to @hobeemin for making this great banner!

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The winter air nipped at your feet as you closed the door of your childhood home. It was winter break and you were spending time with your family for the holidays.

It also gave you the chance to spend more time with your best friend, Jungkook. You had known each other since you were 8 when your family first moved in.

Everyday, once the school bus dropped you off at your stop, Jungkook would come off with you and play together in your tree house. When the sun started to go down, he would go home which was conveniently located on the opposite side of the fence behind your house.

You two would play house, pretending to be a happily married couple or a princess being saved by her knight in shining armor. Despite this, the relationship was your typical "puppy love" childhood friendship. You didn't have romantic feelings for him at the time due to your age (along with the fact he insisted that you had cooties).

This all changed by middle school. Puberty was starting and Jungkook was proving to become a rather handsome boy. Another thing changed as well: your duo had grown into a trio, as you had become friends with a girl named Chaeyeon, who was in your homeroom class.

"The Three Amigos" as your teachers lovingly called your friend group, but your feelings for Jungkook only grew the more time you spent together. You didn't have the guts to tell the boy about your feelings, but your female best friend would understand… right?

Hwang Chaeyeon. That name alone rang around the halls on a consistent basis. She was one of the most popular girls in school, with star athlete status and looks too boot.

She had an "interesting" way of showing her fondness for you, including making jokes at your expense if it felt necessary. During her birthday the summer before 8th grade, she had invited you to a slumber party at her house, along with her teammates on the volleyball team.

A rather intense "Truth or Dare" game had begun, including some TMI from the gaggle of girls. It was your turn to go and you chose "dare", which would become a decision you would soon regret.

"Are you crushing on anyone?" Chaeyeon's teammate, Gaeul asked.

"Well… there's this one guy…" you didn't want to divulge something so personal to girls you weren't really close with, but that's when Chaeyeon spoke up.

"She likes Jungkook!" she blurted out to everyone.

"Wait, Jeon Jungkook?" Ryujin, another teammate, questioned.

"The really cute one that was in our health class last year?" Yoona sighed dreamily.

"Really, Y/N? You don't seem like his type," Aeri, the team captain, said.

"What exactly is that supposed to mean?" you asked pointedly, tilting your head.

"She's just playing! Right, Aeri?" Chaeyeon looked over at the brunette.

"All I mean is, don't you think he'd want a girl a little more developed?" The group of girls all snickered, including Chaeyeon.

You were never self conscious about your bra size, especially considering you were still growing as a person, both physically and mentally. Aeri was mature in everything, but personality. You couldn't get the sounds of their laughter out of your head, even as you tried to sleep.

You avoided Chaeyeon for a while after the incident, but Jungkook was there for you about your friendship troubles. That's what you liked about him, he was always there for you when times were rough.

Reminiscing about all the times he supported you, had put you in your current predicament: finally telling him how you feel. You called him saying you wanted to hang out underneath the tree that held the little house you spent so much together in.

Jungkook's figure soon passed by the wooden planks that made up the house? were placed around your house, hastily climbing over and landing with a loud "thud" on the ground. He brushed the dirt off his pants with ease, taking his spot right next to you.

"Jungkook! I thought we talked about you not breaking bones whenever you came over!" you laughed.

"We did, Y/N! In fact, after the tree stump incident, I've been able to perfect the landing," he replied.

You spent much of your time just talking about your classes next semester, your professors, and what you had planned for the rest of the break. He mentioned going ice skating with his brother and that's when you noticed how beautiful his eyes looked as the sun began to set.

"Y/N? Are you still there?" Jungkook asked.

"What? Oh yeah, I was just thinking about something," you smiled shyly.

"I thought I lost you for a moment. Please tell me if I sound boring," he chuckled.

"I could never see you as boring even if you tried, Jeon!" you pat his shoulder.

The both of you sat there in silence for a bit, letting the world around you be your music. Cars honking, crickets chirping, and televisions playing shows become much of the only noise that could be heard.

You took a deep breath, seeing this as the opportunity of telling the boy next to you about the feelings you harbored for him these past six years.

"Jungkook?" you started.

"Yes, Y/N?" he questioned.

"I like you." you bit your lip and closed your eyes, not ready to see his response.

"How long have you known you did?" was all that he said at the moment.

"Since seventh grade. I can't think of a specific moment, but you've always been there for me and that made me like you more than a friend," you said.

It takes him some time before he says anything else, but when he does, you'd wished that you had kept your mouth shut.

"That means a lot that you feel this way about me, but I have a girlfriend," Jungkook looked at you almost as if to say "I'm sorry" with his eyes.

His words hit you like a ton of bricks. If it didn't hurt that he didn't return your feelings, it stung that there was another girl that captured his heart. Did you know her? Was she nice? How long have they been together? All these questions swirled in the back of your mind until he further elaborated.

"We've only been together two weeks and we're going ice skating with my brother on Saturday. I probably should have told you, but-" Jungkook rambled, only for you to interrupt.

"No! No! Don't feel bad! I'm happy for you. I guess I should have expected that things would be a bit different if I told you how I felt." you flash a small smile, if only for it to hide your true feelings.

"I bet she's awesome if she's able to get a guy like you."

"Yeah, she's really great," Jungkook replied with your same shy smile, but something in the back of your mind felt like he was omitting something, but that all went away as you felt your eyes getting blurry.

"It's getting late, isn't it? I should probably head inside now," you suggested, hearing your voice falter.

"My mom's making chicken tonight, so I'll head back there myself. See you later, Y/N!" Jungkook waved, walking over to the fence before going over it.

"Goodbye, Jungkook," you said, feeling a tear escape your eye as you walked inside your house.

A month had passed and the distance between you and Jungkook was palpable. No phone calls. No "hellos" across the fence. No going outside as much, only to avoid seeing him. The new college semester rolled in and you were apathetic about classes.

Your first class was an intro to photography course. You were undecided on a major, but thought that taking the class might interest you enough into possibly furthering your college years in the photography field. The class looked pretty small, with only six other students sitting down at their desks.

The professor was a young woman who didn't look too far removed from college herself. She looked excited about the new semester and felt like a warm presence in the rather metaphorically and legitimately cold atmosphere.

"Alright, everyone! I'm Moon Bora and I work in the photography/digital imaging department here," Bora began.

"I graduated three years ago with a B.A. in art history, but always had a passion for photography. Don't feel like you have to call Ms. or Professor either, considering I'm only a few years older or the same age as some of you."

The class laughed a bit as she continued going over her background, the structure of the class, the semester at a glance, and most importantly, the syllabus. She was beginning to go over the basic functions of a camera and the style of photographs when a tall guy walked into the classroom.

"Sorry, Bora! I just came back from weight training," the unnamed guy apologized.

"It's fine, Mingyu! Take a seat and I'll continue about what your first assignment is," Bora said.

Audible groans could be heard around you from the thought of already having work on the first day back from break. The only one who was not annoyed about the announcement was the aforementioned Mingyu.

"Don’t worry about Bora. She's a pretty lax professor," he stated.

"I'm Mingyu, by the way!"

"Y/N." you said indifferently.

"Y/N… that's a really pretty name!" Mingyu smiled brightly.

You really wanted to like Mingyu, you truly did, but you weren't in the mood to be hit on the first day of classes. He seemed like a nice guy, possibly even "classroom buddy" potential, but you couldn't shake off your winter heartbreak.

"Thanks. I really needed to hear that," you answered honestly.

"Not a fun break, huh?" he mumbled.

"You could say something like that."

Mingyu's expression was unreadable, but you could see the genuine concern on his face hearing your words. He went back to listening to Bora discuss the first assignment, which was to partner up with another person and find something that inspires you and photograph it.

"Want to partner up?" Mingyu asked.

"Sure. We're already next to each other," you laughed.

"Let me give you my number so we can find time outside of class to find some inspiration." Mingyu beamed.

Bora had dismissed the class for the day and everyone gathered their things as you both exchanged numbers and filed out the door. You were about to walk down the hallway, when he tapped you on the shoulder.

"See you around, Y/N!" Mingyu smiled.

"See you!" you smiled, watching as he walked away in the opposite direction. You were feeling optimistic of the semester so far. Your classes were going smoothly enough and you met someone new. Maybe it won't feel too bad after all.

You had gotten a text from Chaeyeon saying to meet her in the student union. It wouldn't have seemed too out of the ordinary since she is your friend, but it had been almost two months since the last you saw her.

She spent a good portion of the days following finals week and the first week of break on a cruise. Based on her posts from Instagram, it seemed like there was a new guy in her life. She didn't post any pictures of him outside of one story where she took a selfie with her mystery beau's face hidden in the crook of her neck.

"Hey, babes!" Chaeyeon smiled, going in for an air kiss on each side of your face while you had your arms extended for a hug.

"Hi, Chae! How was your break?" you asked.

"Amazing as ever, Y/N! I didn't want it to end!" she sighed with a glint in her eyes.

"What did you do?" you questioned.

"Well, after the cruise I started dating this amazing guy and we went ice skating for our first date," Chaeyeon beamed.

You started experiencing déjà vu as Jungkook mentioned going ice skating with his girlfriend during the break. You shrugged it off as mere coincidence just like previously and continued talking with one another.

Just as you were about to ask more about her boyfriend, Jungkook came right up to the both of you. He had a "deer in the headlights" expression seeing the two of you together, which puzzled you, as such interactions were common.

"Baby!" Chaeyeon nearly jumped into his embrace, leaving you in a stunned silence.

That was the moment you put all the pieces together: Jungkook's girlfriend was Chaeyeon and Chaeyeon's boyfriend was Jungkook. You assumed that they both had forgotten your presence as your female best friend started kissing your male one in front of every passerby, including yourself.

Once the two had stopped, Jungkook avoided eye contact with you before meeting your eyes, frozen in place. If the two of you were having a staring contest, it would be down to a tie as neither one of you averted your gaze nor seemed to blink in that minute.

"Hi," was all he could manage to muster out.

You nodded in response, making a point to look everywhere else but back at him. The tension could be felt a mile away and the only thing that was holding you together was the fact that you had one other class, which was relatively short.

"Hello! Earth to Jungkook and Y/N!" Chaeyeon cleared her throat, attempting to break the awkwardness, which was even more evident once she spoke up.

"Were you about to say something, Y/N?" she asked, Jungkook's arm placed firmly around her waist, which you couldn't help noticing.

"I… was just going to say that… I'm really happy that my two friends are together. In fact, I'm so happy that I'll give you too some space to enjoy each other's company," and with that, you power walked away with little hesitation, trying your best not to drop to the ground and scream.

It was one thing to find out that Jungkook had a girlfriend, but for it to be Chaeyeon? How long did they plan to keep you in the dark? None of that mattered as you tried to get on with the rest of your day.

Two days passed and you were back in photography class, continuing working on the project with Mingyu. You tried your best to listen to what he was saying, but your mind was still stuck on seeing your best friends together after hiding their relationship from you for almost a month.

"Y/N, are you listening?" Mingyu asked.

"What? Oh, sorry! I just have a lot on my mind," you said.

Mingyu sighed, looking at you with concern.

"How about we go get some coffee? I could really use a boost," he suggested.

"That would be great!" you perked up, thinking about the smell of pastries and coffee beans, paired with the open atmosphere.

Bora allowed the students to either stay in the classroom or find a spot on campus to work together on the project. Luckily for the both of you, you had a little over half an hour to discuss ideas but a change in scenery was something you needed.

The walk to the next building over was a breeze as the familiar scent of a chocolate loaf filled your nose. Mingyu asked what you wanted and you replied with "caramel macchiato", as he waited in line.

There weren't too many people in the campus café, but from what you could tell the other students inside were completing classwork. Just being inside was soothing, as you spent much of last semester here.

You sat at the table nearest to the windows, watching as Mingyu grabbed two straws and brought both of your drinks back. He sat across from you as you both sipped your coffees.

He had gotten a mocha and seemed to enjoy it by how quickly he was drinking it. Other than that, you were going through your phone when he sparked up a conversation.

"I was going to ask you on the first day, but what year are you in?" Mingyu wondered.

"I'm a freshman! I haven't declared a major yet, but I hope to find something that piques my interest," you replied.

"Cool! I'm a sophomore and if you couldn't tell by how familiar I am with Bora, I'm a photography major,” Mingyu chuckled.

"How did you become interested in photography?" you asked.

"For most of my life, I was dedicated to sports. I played soccer from the time I could walk until I got injured in high school," Mingyu recalled.

"I'm sorry to hear that," you said.

"Don’t be. It made me realize other things in life could make me feel happy," he continued.

"I became passionate about photography after my aunt came back from a trip to South America: all the different animals and sites she saw, made me want to learn more."

"That must have been amazing!" you exclaimed.

Mingyu shook his head in agreement.

"Is there anything in particular you like capturing the most?" you asked.

"I love taking pictures of sunsets. I think they have the best vantage points." Mingyu responded.

That's when it hit you: sunsets… reminiscing about spending summer breaks with Jungkook. Going to the beach and looking at the light hit the ocean waves. It brought back fond memories, which were now tinged in sadness as you pretty much lost the greatest person you had known.

The tears start to blur your vision when Mingyu stops what he's doing to make sure you're okay.

"Oh no! Y/N, what's wrong?" he asked.

You didn't want to tell him, since you thought it would be stupid talk about how you were crying over a boy you never dated to a guy you barely knew.

Mingyu got up and grabbed some napkins nearby and handed them to you. You wiped the corners of your eyes before you regained your composure.

Talking to him gave you a sense of relief, almost like he represented something that's been lacking in your life. He was easy-going and made you feel comfortable being around you.

"Come on! Let's get back to class!" Mingyu smiled, leading the way out of the café.

Several weeks passed and you became closer to Mingyu than ever. You would hang out at his place, the park, and the movies. He was the closest thing you had to a best friend nowadays, but history repeated itself as you started developing feelings for him.

It all came to a head last week, when he ordered pizza for the both of you while you hung out. You bit into a slice, causing a bit of the cheese to stick to the corner of your mouth. Being the gentleman he is, he wiped it off for you but let his thumb linger near your cheek.

You were doomed! You've just started getting close to Mingyu and the thought of him rejecting you and possibly not wanting to be friends was something that you didn't want to happen.

Mingyu was a genuinely nice guy and you could tell how attentive he was in terms of remembering stuff about you. When you mentioned liking Skittles, he bought a special Valentine's Day pack. Then, there was the time you mentioned getting cold in biology class and he brought an extra sweater.

If it wasn’t for the fact you had a history of falling for people that showed you any form of decency, one might think he had a crush on you, but the only way for you to know this is by telling him how you feel.

You both were sitting in the drive-thru line at a small, family-owned fast food restaurant when Mingyu stared at a couple that was passing by.

"Y/N, do you believe in soul mates?" he pondered.

"Well, Gyu… to be honest, I did, but not so much anymore," you responded.

"Oh, really? How come?" he further asked.

You didn't expect to be asked a question like that right before you were consumed with grease and fat, but now felt like the time to open up to him.

"There was this guy, Jungkook, we've known each other since we were little kids and I had a crush on him," you began.

"I told him how I felt over the break, but he said he had a girlfriend… who is also our friend."

Mingyu could tell it still made you feel sad, but he wanted to be there for support. That's another reason why you liked him: he was always there.

"Was that why you were crying when we first started working on the project?" he asked.

You simply nodded your head and watched along as he got the food from the window and carefully drove off.

"I'm feeling… better now, especially with you caring," you smiled shyly.

"Of course I care, Y/N. You're my friend and I hate seeing you sad," Mingyu rubbed the small of your back, while you reassured him that you were fine.

"Actually, I really like you alot,"

Your eyes lit up when you heard that. The guy who single handedly became the constant presence in your life that you needed for a short period of time, the one who always checked up on you, returned your feelings.

"That's a good thing, Kim because I like you a lot, too," leaving you both facing each other at a red light.

Your faces, only mere inches apart, soon molded as you leaned in for a kiss.

It felt as if you two were the only people in the world at the moment. You were lost in each other's presence, not even worried about the food that much anymore.

Mingyu brought his hand up to deepen the kiss when, unbeknownst to either of you, the light turned green and the car behind honked their horn.

"How about we hold off on kissing at a traffic stop for now?" you giggled.

"For sure," Mingyu laughed.

The past three weeks with Mingyu have been amazing. You completed the project by taking a photo of the Moon during a night outing to the beach. He considers it your first official date after the confession and you couldn’t have picked a better place.

Now, you both were coming to campus on a Friday night which was a game night/pajama party organized by student affairs. It was sure to be an eventful night, with Mingyu wearing a SpongeBob onesie and you wearing a Minions one.

There was an intense game of Twister between him, his friend Joshua, and one of the residential advisors when a hand tapped on your shoulder. You turned around to be greeted by Jungkook's face.

"Hey, Y/N. Can I talk to you for a second?" he asked, looking down at the ground like he was nervous or embarrassed.

"Sure."

The two of you stood in the corner when he decided to try and start a conversation with you. Something about his entire demeanor felt anxious, almost as if he was anticipating the worst.

"So, it's been a while," Jungkook blurted out.

"Why didn't you tell me?" you asked, getting straight to the point, since you knew he was going to mention the circumstances of your last encounter.

"What?" he responded obviously.

"You know what. You could've just been up front about you and Chae seeing each other. I likely wouldn't have cared, rather than seeing two people I thought were my friends keeping secrets." you folded your arms, not even bothering to look at him.

"I-I know, I just didn't know how'd you react? I know you two butt heads at times, but I didn't think we'd stop talking because of it," Jungkook sighed.

"For fuck's sake, JK that's not the point! The point is, why do you suddenly feel so remorseful about something that could have been resolved by simple communication?" your voice began to raise a little bit out of frustration, but only enough to where everyone else continued their activities.

"I didn't want to ruin our friendship, there was nothing wrong with what we already had." Jungkook said.

"Yeah, there was nothing wrong with what we had, but you hurt me. I didn't care if you didn't like me back, but do not tell me that you're dating my friend… that's low," you shook your head.

"We all hung out together, so there could have been a time where you both could have just flat out said it."

You tried your best not to escalate the situation further, but it was taking everything in you to not give him a piece of your mind. It took one deep breath, but you were somewhat calm.

"I'm sorry, Y/N. I do care about you and even though it's not romantic, I still want to be your friend." Jungkook sighed, rubbing the temples of his forehead.

"Listen… Jungkook, we've grown up together, you were the one person that understood who I was and we spent some of the best times of our lives together," you started, closing your eyes before continuing.

"But right now, we're in two different worlds. The past two months that we've been distant from each other, I met the most important person in my life right now and I'm very happy about that." you nod, with a small smile.

"You mean a lot to me, but I've outgrown that part of my life where I'm just waiting around for someone. Goodbye, Jungkook."

With that, you walked back to the circle in the middle of the room watching your boyfriend fall to the ground in a fit of laughter. You pulled Mingyu off the ground, earning a big bear hug from him.

In the corner of your eyes, you could see Jungkook standing off to the side watching as Mingyu held you in his arms. Wounds take time to heal, but for now, you were focused on what was straight ahead.

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© gyupremacy, 2023. All rights reserved. 

[4thenookie]

Hi hi i heard you wanted some headcanons!! As always this is /lh, not meant to be taken that seriously, agree to disagree, yada yada all that good jazz lmao. Most of them are pretty crack-y in nature as well, they're just meant for fun lol. And with that, I'll compile my miles long headcanon list into (mostly) sorted by character for everyone's convenience lmao

- starting off strong with trans EJ! Idk why but do headcanons really need a reason? (I do know why) (i like to make my blorbos suffer 💖) (and also [diverges your neuros] [transes your genders] [homos your sexuals]). Also biromantic asexual king

- more EJ because he's THE blorbo. Boy is british asf and he knows BSL and is learning ASL. Touch averse as well. I feel like EJ would actually be a decent if not great cook.

- EJ purring like a cat when he's content/happy? I think yes! Also has a tail with one of those tail tuft thingies? Kinda like lions if you know what i mean. And the pointy ears (peak character design yaknow)

- moving on. I feel like Jeff knows how to play an instrument. Probably electric guitar. He also has like a bajillion band t-shirts. Jeff also likes to take long, hot showers but hates to comb his hair lol

- while Brian cooks food so bad/raw it could as well just still be alive, Toby is either a great cook or a disaster in the kitchen with seemingly no indicator for which one it's going to be on any given day. I'm talking managing to burn a pot of water one day and cooking a michelen star worthy meal the next.

- Kagekao is actually fluent in English and speaks and understands it perfectly, he just refuses to speak it. He takes great amusement in watching other people lose their minds over this

- speaking of languages, i feel like Toby would be bilingual if not multilingual. He speaks English and German, maybe even Spanish if we're going the multilingual route

- also. Oh my god. The generational difference between BEN "memelord who quotes vines like there's no tomorrow" Drowned and Slenderman is just. I cant stop laughing thinking about it. Any given conversation between these two is just a gamble on who is going to lose it first

- BRVR is kinds Lost Silver's pet but also not really? Like he just kinda goes wherever but Lost Silver mainly takes care of him

- LJ he/it truther

- Me and a friend came up with this which probably explains why it is cracky as fuck but hear me out. Jeff as a makeup artist. He made Slender look like Beyonce once. No one knows how he did it and how he's not dead (the answer, as my friend said, is "no one can hate Beyonce")

- i feel like Toby, BEN, and Jeff would be like. The chaos trio. God knows what will happen when you put the three of then alone in a room together

- i also feel like Brian sunburns really easily.

- Tim is one of those dads that wants to leave in the middle of the night for road trips / holidays to avoid the traffic jams

Hope this makes even a bit of sense and i hope you enjoyed whatever my brain spewed at me lol if u ever wanna share more headcanons or talk about blorbos or share character slander (looking at Brian and LJ (affectionate)) feel free to dm me!! (I dont mind i promise lol /lh)

hi!!!!!!!!!!!!! omg these are so so so real thank you for sharing them with me!!!! ill go into some more detail under the cut :)

to be honest, i can kinda see trans ej being real now that you mention it, ill definitely think about that a lot!! and i also hc him as asexual!!!! :)

im british and i claim ej as one of us lmaooo

i absolutely agree w the purring thing!!! i think ej does a lot of cat things idk :)))) i love all of your ej headcanons!!!

tbh i can see jeff either playing electric guitar like you said or maybe drums?? just any instrument he can go ham on when hes mad lmao

in my hc he has the worst case of chronic greasy hair and he doesnt want to do anything about it

cooking hcs are so real brian can NOT cook!!!!!!! toby will either serve you some 5 star gourmet shit or some rotten takeout he found during a dumpster dive

omg omg omg I hardly see anybody talk about kagekao!!!!!! i totally agree he would do that lmaooo

idk if its canon or not but i read somewhere that tobys German so i totally agree that hed be bilingual!!!

oh my god BEN whos native language is memes meets grandpa slendy that would be so funny

in 4 words youve converted me into a fellow he/it LJ truther!!!! could we consider he/it ej too? maybe??

ik you said it was a cracky hc but i can actually kinda see jeff being good at makeup??? like one of those things where he tries it once and it's the most drop dead gorgeous makeup look you've EVER seen and everyones like how did you do that

toby BEN and jeff are an absolute riot when rheyre together lmao

omg i never thought about it but brian sunburning super easy is so real!! and in summer he always wears sunglasses so he has like an unburnt patch on his face where his sunglasses were yk??

OMG YES LMAOOOOO "guys get up our flights in 10 hours WE'RE GONNA BE LATE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" he would 100% have a checklist or 3

thank you so much for sharing these with me!! i hope you dont mind me adding my own thoughts lol but theyre so much fun to think about!!!! if you ever wanna slander lj and brian with someone feel free to dm me lmao!!!!!! take care <33333

[hannnsh]

Hello!! A poll among my favorite artists, in which you are no exception. So. A list of your favorite fanfiction?

helloo !! first of all so honored to be one of ur fav artists <3 secondly, oh boy this list is gonna be a long one loll. also every single one has joel or is abt joel (r we surprised? no, we’re not)

there’s a lot but these are the ones i reread a lot :3 also im not the best at summaries so i’ll just say why i like it and stuff lol

1. https://archiveofourown.org/works/55000741 sweet talk by pancho_owo (pancho_pinto) - i waited every week for the update of this fic no joke, i loved it sm 🥹 i rlly like pancho’s works they’re my fav writer !

2. https://archiveofourown.org/works/53680036 Somehow, I always end up back in Marianas Trench by Prudent_seer - again, waited every week for the update and enjoyed every single chapter <3

3. https://archiveofourown.org/series/4015792 burning flames or paradise? by INSOMNYA - another one of my fav writers and series !! their relationship is so ugshgsgs pls make up alrdy i know u both want to

4. https://archiveofourown.org/works/39243264 they scratch and bite and bark by HighAsAFlyingFish - this is fully joel angst 😔 i’m an angst enjoyer what can i say

5. https://archiveofourown.org/works/48645778 More Powerful Than Fear Itself Is The Will To Win by smoothlikebutter (caimani) - i have no idea how f1 works but it’s very cute nonetheless

6. https://archiveofourown.org/works/37465834 stars, smoke, and stolen car keys by wormcity - ahh hardcore trio 🧎‍♀️ they go hiking but something goes wrong and stuff happens, yea

7. https://archiveofourown.org/series/3329041 The Game of Life by fynnfynnfynn - this series is one of my favs lol, idk much abt watcher lore or stuff but very enjoyable to read

8. https://archiveofourown.org/works/43383414 The Problem of Etho by owtenen - i like drama. that’s it

9. https://archiveofourown.org/works/41807466 red eye sees no blame by Dayables - they make me crazy /pos , honestly them and horror just mesh so well idk how to describe it

10. https://archiveofourown.org/works/49451008 Tidal Waves by AstronautBeans - i cried so hard at the ending 10/10 i love astro’s works

11. https://archiveofourown.org/works/53169124 the match and the rock by justlukahere - tango/joel i love them sm ughsgshs

12. https://archiveofourown.org/works/53556916 Sail with us (and we'll show you what it means to be alive!) by Hyde0monster - guys boatboys going on boats get it ?? this fic makes me feel warm inside 🥹🩷

13. https://archiveofourown.org/works/53758222 The Gentleman's Guide to the Art of Business by OwnOdin359 (incomplete) - this fic isn’t finished but the the author here on tumblr has their au info and it’s very interesting to me and also im a sucker for historical au

14. https://archiveofourown.org/works/54905563 It's about parallels, about differences, and completely about Joel. by pancho_owo (pancho_pinto) - smallidarity and smalletho rivalry ? yes pls

15. https://archiveofourown.org/works/53632114 Geminislay fishes up a smallishbeans? [Not clickbait] by Moonflowers24 - gem and joel <3

16. https://archiveofourown.org/series/3641545 We’re All Dead by Vinca_Roseus - i cant remember much of this but i do remember me crying very hard

17. https://archiveofourown.org/works/54499372 Kinescope Fashbacks by Maevich (incomplete) - this fic inspired me to start my college au, and i rlly like the writing style idk

that’s all i think, maybe there are more but i must’ve not bookmarked them or i forgor lol. there’s a pattern to my favs, joel centric and angst yummers

[father-time-and-baby-new-year]

happy 200! i’m so glad to see your blog grow, it’s one of my favorites and i adore all your writing. i’ve never cried so much and i love the kind of unsettling feeling you write in your fics, it’s perfect in the category of yandere and dark content. in particular, i loved your drabble about shigaraki mourning over a dead reader and i’ve reread that one too many times to count haha! as for asks for headcannons and drabbles, it would be amazing to see that with bully!eren especially since he was such an awful person to the reader. i’d love to see him suffer honestly, but if you don’t want to write it, that’s completely fine! once again, i’m so proud of you for hitting 200! that’s such a huge milestone and hopefully, there will be many more in the future! :)

SYNOPSIS: bully!Eren has to navigate the world without you.

Pairing: Bully!Eren x Fem!Reader

A/N: I can't even explain in words how much I CHEESED at this message like my grin was ear to ear. can't explain how many times I read this. It singlehandedly made my day anon, and to repay you for my happiness....here is some angst. this is a slightly different route than the shiggy one but I hope it still suits you <3

TW: mentions of death, past dubcon/noncon, mentions of trauma, bullying, alcohol addiction, drunk driving, abusive behavior, revenge porn, nonconsensual photography/videography, mentions of infidelity, angst, so much of angst, violent behavior

WC: 2.5k

It's not like Eren had been doing a lot of soul-searching. He's not delusional enough to label his half-assed epiphany of "maybe I'm a shitty person" as soul searching.

It's just the conversation with his very sick mother burned holes through the back of his mind. Carla had asked about you and why you don't come by the house anymore. How she missed baking with you in the kitchen, and how you sweetly smiled whenever you would see soft creamy peaks form in the meringue.

Eren felt like he was swallowing needles as he assured his mother with false truths, that nothing was going on and distance between childhood friends is natural, and if it means so much--ok ok he'll bring you over.

He stays until he sees her chest slowly rising and falling into a gentle asleep. He touches the tip of his ears, unsurprised by how hot it was.

Eren, when you tell a lie, the tips of your ears turn red.

You're not at school the next day. Or the day after that. Or the day after that.

Guilt is not an emotion he feels often but the events of the past weekend replay in his mind. It was just a dumb party that Floch threw, and he was surprised to find you cornered by a trio of thee dunderheads. Like a distorted fairytale, he swept you away from the bad guys like a knight in shining armor, to only shove you in an empty room and demand compensation for playing hero.

Fuck, with that big mouth, you would think that you'd know how to suck cock.

Use your tongue stupid slut. If you use teeth, I'll shove this dick in your ass without any prep.

No, I don't care, you're taking all of it.

There's a video on his camera roll. How could he not record it? You're sobbing, mascara running down your cheeks, looking so beautiful and ruined with jizz smeared at the corner of your mouth. He was brutally fucking your mouth, making you take all of his length.

Breathe through your nose dumb whore. Or else you're gonna run out of air.

You were pleading with whatever garbled sounds you were constricted into producing.

Breathe through your fucking nose. This is for your sake. Otherwise, I don't mind face fucking your lifeless body. You'd be more useful that way anyways.

Eren is conflicted with muting the video because he can't stand to hear himself like that. But he didn't want to miss out on your pitiful whines.

He remembers the distraught expression on your face when he was finally done with you. He tucked himself inside, and sneered, "I've got a girl coming here. Get lost." You looked so fucking distraught. Why? All he did was make you suck his dick. He didn't even fuck you.

He should have. Eren thinks grimly when he stares at your empty desk on the first day you didn't show up to school. He's gotten off to the video more than enough times than he can count over the weekend, and he was aching to see your pretty face twisted into a terrorized expression when he flipped up your skirt to grope your ass.

Kindly, Eren decides he'd allow you to have a rest day. But the second day, Eren pays a visit to your house finding it dark and locked, like no one was home and hadn't been there for a while.

On the third day, you're declared missing.

Your incompetent workaholic mother who finally came home and decided to give a damn reported you missing to the authorities who had scratched their heads because as far as they knew, the pivotal 72 hours were up.

Paradis was surrounded by forests. No one wanted to say it, but they were all thinking it. If you got lost in there, chances are you wouldn't make it out.

Eren wasn't always this admired and fawned over. He had his fair share of behavioral issues that frightened people (not you though, not then at least, not when you were children, and you still came back every day to play).

But when he channeled that anger into sports, there was somewhat of a star in the making, especially for some small-town boy. He was becoming extremely popular, and that's nice and all, but at the end of the day, he has a mother whose health was taking a sharp decline. He was constantly under stress, stress that he took out on you.

Where did his favorite stress-ball go?

It's all fucking surreal. Having detectives in the school. Not that there were many students to question (because christ, did you even have any friends after Eren turned everyone against you?).

Eren was questioned. He can't help but mirthfully chuckle. Maybe this was your grand plan, maybe you were able to finally sort out a mountain of evidence against him. If you were going to fuck him over, didn't you want to see it happen with your own two eyes?

The dark-haired boy wishes that was true. If you had gotten your revenge, would you be here? No, revenge isn't the right word. If you got any justice for what he made you suffer, would you come back?

Hi, I'm Detective Hange. I would like to ask you some questions today. You're Eren Yeager, right?

Yes, that's me.

How do you know ___?

We were childhood friends. We're uh, we're not as close anymore.

When was the last time you saw her?

Friday night at Floch's party-

-Floch Forster right? There were a number of kids there from your school.

Yeah. It was a big party. She uh, doesn't usually come to parties but she was there that night.

You were the last person to be seen with her. Other kids have said that they saw you and her entering a room together, and then only her leaving the said room.

[Sigh] Yeah we sorta...hooked up.

I thought you said you guys weren't close anymore.

You can be not close to someone and still hook up with them.

But you guys were close once right?

Yeah. Once.

The dark-haired boy asks if he was under any suspicion. The detective waves their hand in a dismissive gesture, “If her diary tells us anything, it’s only that she really liked you.”

Were detectives even allowed to divulge that sort of information? Eren doesn’t know but the stray detail that they offered off-handedly made him feel like he was swallowing needles.

At that point, Eren honestly still doesn't believe you're gone. You had a habit of running away, even when you were little kids, but you always came back.

Still, he participates in the search parties with a renewed vigor, even going alone in the forest with a flashlight on most nights.

And he's just so fucking tired. The darkest crevice of his mind almost wishes you were dead because this ignorance was just agony. Almost. Because he still clings to the feeling that one day, he’ll stroll into class and find you in your seat in the back of the class, looking out the window like some cliche shojo manga protagonist.

There are folders and folders on his phone. Albums. The most recent one is dedicated to your crying face as you were choking on his dick. Earlier albums are composed of creepshots of your panties, of that obscene o-face, of your skirt flipped up and your ass cheeks, pictures of your cleavage, videos of you thrashing as he dunked your head into toilets like a villainous middle school bully.

Pictures of your neck covered in hickeys, your naked breasts, ass cheeks striped with red after getting spanked, your leaking cunt, just endless and endless media dedicated to pieces and pieces of your body like you were never a whole person.

The earliest ones though tell a different tale, from off-guards to your drooling face as you napped in the middle of the day.

He has a favorite picture. Your eyes are watery from the cold, snowflakes stuck between lashes, nose and cheeks flushed red, and you're smiling. Smiling right to the camera. Right at him.

"Eren, are you taking a picture?" You asked, bouncing in place, giddy that it was finally snowing.

"Not of you, shut up. Get out of the way." His voice is gruff but not harsh.

You laughed and jumped into frame anyway, and the bright streetlamp behind you made you seem like you were wearing a halo.

He wishes he had more pictures of you being...yourself. Because now your crying face displayed over countless pixels haunt him. But like a fucking degenerate, he still jerks off to all the nudes he coerced from you. Sometimes he cries when he's jerking off which is probably the most pathetic thing he's ever done. This is what you've reduced him to.

He hates the sound of his own voice.

Breathe through your fucking nose. This is for your sake. Otherwise, I don't mind face fucking your lifeless body. You'd be more useful that way anyways.

Eren goes through the motions of life without really feeling like he's in the moment. Seasons change and time flies. His mother dies, and his withdrawn father dies a year later. He proposes to Mikasa because it's something he was always supposed to do. She loves him unconditionally, so even when he doesn't put any effort into the relationship but proposes, she says yes hoping he'll change and be a good husband.

He doesn't go to his parents' funerals because they're already dead. What's the point. He doesn't visit the candlelight vigils in your honor either. After tearing his ACL again and a somewhat traumatic injury, he kisses his pro-football career goodbye. To be totally honest, he's relieved. Because he had gotten quite bored, and maybe he was looking for excuses to quit the entire time. It's not like you'd be cheering on the bleachers anyways.

Mikasa has an affair, more out of a desire to see her fiancé feel something for her as opposed to any burning lust. But when she asks him if he's ever cared at all, with tears springing out of her eyes, he's just calmly drinking his fifth of whisky.

The dark-haired man doesn't even look up, "Let's break up."

"Is this about her, huh? Fucking get over it already Eren. She's GONE. And you have some big fucking audacity moping about her death like you weren't making her cry in the bathroom stalls every fucking day you piece of shit."

"Get out."

"You know what, I bet she killed herse-"

SMASH

The dark-haired woman doesn't finish her rant because the whiskey bottle smashes on the wall next to her head, sending glass everywhere and staining the carpet amber. She's unharmed, knowing it wasn't Eren's intention to hit her but Jesus Christ, what a monster.

She packs her bags and leaves the town like she should have a long time ago. All her friends had left years before and she stayed behind because that's where Eren was. She thanks her lucky stars that they didn't marry.

It's funny because he had always imagined himself being the first to move out of their small town, but he's the one staying. He can't leave this place. feels too tethered to ever leave. Every diner and liquor store is saturated with memories of you. He remembers buying cigarettes and exhaling the smoke to your face to piss you off in empty parking lots.

Maybe he stays in case you'll come back.

Eren's days consist of alcohol-fueled hazes. He doesn't know how his liver is still functioning. He doesn't know he's still alive after crashing his car into a tree when he was drunk out of his mind. He was on his way to get some more vodka.

He barely recognizes himself in the mirror anymore, not that he looks at himself much. His hair is long, nestled around his shoulder because he couldn't be bothered to cut it, dark circles under viridian eyes, and a perpetual stubble on his jaw.

His parents had left quite a sizable inheritance so there's no need to work but he's good with his hands. Likes crafting up birdhouses and cabinets, and occasionally does odd jobs around the neighborhood, never charging the elderly.

He's under the sink, tinkering with a wrench against the pipes when he hears the old lady coo at him.

"We're so lucky to have you Eren. I'm surprised a handsome young man like yourself doesn't have a special lady. The girls must be lining up at your door!"

The dark-haired man winces, and offers no comment, knowing that that the older lady was susceptible to long tangents.

"You know, we're getting a new neighbor." Eren grunts as a response. "They're young, I've heard. Isn't that exciting? Oh my, Eren! I think they're gonna be living in the house right next to yours..."

He tunes out the rest of the conversation because doesn't really care. He just hopes his new neighbors are quiet.

It's Sunday noon when obnoxious noises of moving trucks and people wake him up from his deep slumber. Eren's annoyed to wake up despite the fact he's probably been sleeping over 15 hours. He oscillates between getting too much sleep and getting none, his sleeping habits completely dependent on his dreams.

His nightmares are too visceral, visions of your corpse asking him if he'd enjoyed hollowing your soul with his teeth.

His dreams are achingly sweet. You in your prom gown, shining so iridescently like diamonds were sewn into the silk. He's dancing with you, holding you close, and then after you guys go to your favorite diner and gorge on burgers and milkshakes.

There's a peal of distinctly feminine laughter that stirs up Eren's senses. He's so pathetic, was the mere sound of a woman laughing getting him excited?

He sighs. He thinks of the whore he's frequently visited because of her resemblance to you. Hair color, skin color, face shape--with enough alcohol, he could really convince the person beneath him, was you. Maybe it's time to give her a call, but she's gotten so fucking needy and he hated how her voice didn't match yours.

The green-eyed man peers from the lace curtains, irritated by the brats playing on his lawn. A full family next door? Great, just what he needs.

The friendly knock on his door breaks him out of his daze. He contemplates whether he should answer but on the second more muted knock, he lets his feet guide him.

He turns the knob.

And Eren Yeager completely shatters.

Because it's you isn't it? You're the person standing in front of him? He can hear what you're saying but he doesn't really register it, soaking in the cadence of a voice he had long forgotten because all he had were pleading whimpers and frenzied moans stored on his cell.

He's shaking. Is he dreaming? He's dreaming, right? He knows it's you. You're older, far more beautiful than he's ever seen you. You have a different hairstyle, wearing clothes he would have mocked you for, and there's this joyfulness within you that makes you glow.

There's a mess of emotions electrifying in the pits of his stomach from euphoria, anger, and dread. He could feel his skin growing clammy like he was about to vomit at any second.

"Hey, are you all right?"

Doe eyes full of concern peer up at him. He voices out the syllables of your name like a desperate prayer.

You tilt your head to the side, "How do you know my name?"

[katsukikitten]

A/N WELP THIS HAPPENED I GUESS THIRST TEXTS ARE HERE TO STAY Please let me know if this one was too long or if I neglected Kiri with such a short word count last time.

Warnings: NSFW, Adult Themes, 18+ AU/Pro hero, Adult AU. [Revised]

One of your best redeeming, and most damning qualities was how blunt you were.

The world faulting you for knowing what you want, when you want it and exactly how you want it. 

Never shying away from voicing your needs either.  

So an "I'm horny" text to your boyfriend would be nothing new or unexpected as your thumbs fly across the screen. You could see him now, rolling those gorgeous eyes while  locking his phone. 

He was anything but your past lovers, male or female all it took was a string of special emojis, 😜😈👅💋💦💦, and they would come running. 

Showing up at your door with dinner and intentions to give you exactly what you wanted. 

But your special hot head needs just a tad bit more convincing, especially since he's always so "busy" with hero work. 

So shopping with your pro hero friends was the best way to have fun and kill time. But if you were being honest you wanted, no needed, your hot headed boyfriend to pin you against the wall by your throat and fuck all of his frustrations into you. Rutting into you so harshly, so deeply, you saw stars. God you hate to admit how addicting that caramel spiced bastard was.

So you struggle to think of a good enough text to send, biting at your lip in annoyance. 

"Y/N!" Mina calls as she motions for you to enter the next store, your eyes go from a blinking cursor to a glass case holding troves of mannequins adorned in smooth lace. A devilish smile settles on your lips as even more devilish thoughts form in your head, each clack of your heel is a promise to sin. 

"What can I help you pick out Mina?" You pur as you browse for yourself picking out items here and there to try on. 

You were already wearing a black thong that would match any bra or lacy little thing you would want to try on. So to say this man was about to be weak in the knees was an understatement. He better be stiff in his pants. 

"Hmm I'm not sure...." She gravitates to the bright pinks and you push her gently to moodier colors. 

Deep purples and blacks would make her seem more mature while you guided U-san to blushes and dusky rose colors to play up her "innocence." Although from the stories you've heard over too many shared daiquiris you knew they were far from innocent. Their men would definitely be weak if they took the items you were picking up for them home. 

"Let's try them on!" You announce, overly eager to get into the ambient lighting that would insinuate the curvature of your body and the lust in your eyes. The three of you enter into plushly carpeted floors that lie behind tall black with golden inlay doors. 

Luxury to remind women they ARE luxury themselves, you lock the door before setting out your items. 

You picked the perfect thing, you truly did. You compliment yourself as you undress half tempted to send him a picture of your perfectly rounded ass before you talk yourself out of it. 

One thing you learned quickly in this game of cat and mouse is that the anticipation of what could be underneath was enough to drive any lover mad. 

So it was time you presented his meal properly. 

You adorn yourself in a lacy and see through bra with strategically placed floral. The garment had more of a sweat heart neckline than a plunge, your tits fit perfectly as you adjust the straps that remind you of a cafe maids apron. The black color perfectly matched your bowed choker with the little silver bell. 

You slide on the garter that sits just above your natural waist, the middle bare save the string that holds onto the sheer matte tulle that gives it a softer feminine look than what you normally wear. 

Your thong matches perfectly and you smooth out the garter straps to bisect your thick thighs. 

You twirl for a moment before lightly biting your bottom lip for more color, your core slowly heating as you think of the things he would do to you in this. 

You angle yourself perfectly after a few tries, toulsing your hair this way and that before getting the perfect picture. 

You looking needy as you press two fingers against a greedy pink tongue, eyes filled to the brim with want as your mouth forms the perfect O. 

The same one that makes a lewd pop when removed from your favorite snack. 

You smile to yourself before hiting send.

"Doing okay loves?" You call out to your friends that sing song their confirmation, "Like anything yet?" 

"I'm uh not sure just yet." U san calls out 

"I'm checking with Kiri on what to get." Mina says devilishly, a shutter of a lens can barely be heard in fitting room over. 

Your phone pings and you lift it with feverish hands. 

"Gonna have to do better than that if you're trying to get me to leave, Kitten."

Your face sours into an angry pout as you rack your brain for a way to make him eat his words. You needed to look submissive, but not too innocent. He wasn't a brat handler for nothing, Kamisama above knew just how much of a handful you were. 

"But aren't our men in a meeting?" Uraraka asks and you can practically see the blush forming on her cheeks. 

Your lips curl up in a cat like smile as a plan formulates in your head. You place your heeled foot on top of the plush pink chair before using it to vault yourself over the top of your dressing room into Uraraka's.

"Y..Y/N." It is not as if she is unused to your brashness, it is more that you have no shame. You interrupt her before she can finish. 

"You look killer, you know that right?" 

This was no lie or flattery but full truth as she attempts to hide. 

But there is no hiding her curvy body, especially not beneath the strappy mesh bodysuit she wears in the perfect mauve pink, a darker in hue floral pattern tastefully hides her nipples, her navel and becomes thick over her final goods. 

The rest is mesh with side cutouts to remind you of just how beautifully plush she was, if Izuku were here now he would be salivating. 

Begging for a bite. 

The plan solidifies as you look over her thick frame, devilish smile returning to your plush lips.

"Let's send some to Deku?"

"T..together?!" She almost shrinks and you straighten her posture with your hands. 

"If you're uncomfortable that's fine. But I would love to take some with you and maybe send them to Bakugou..." You almost pout and she confirms there is no one living being on the planet that can deny you when you give THE look. 

"Ah...okay we can send one to Deku. M..maybe Bakugou. Do you think it will hurt Izuku's feelings?" 

"I think it will entice him the same way it will entice mine when I pose us. Do you trust me? If you're ever uncomfortable you'll tell me right?" 

"Always." She says it with confidence, and you squeeze her shoulders before setting up your phone to the perfect angle of you two and the mirror. 

You count down silently with the timer on the camera before you snatch your phone showing U-san first. 

She nods. 

"S..send it to Izuku first?" She asks sheepishly as if it would bother you.

But it's not you who will be bothered. 

"Imma send it to you and then let me see your phone!" She obliges and let's you type out the message beneath the sinful image. 

An image that makes it to Deku quickly, he spys that it is a message from Uchan.

She did promise that she would send Izuku a picture of her lunch, especially since the trio of women announced they were going to be getting cattachinos from the new cafe on main. 

Izuku eagerly unlocks his phone, wholly expecting a bright coffee and strawberry cream cake but instead his face ignites into a fiery red. 

It is far from coffee but it is still dessert. 

A photo of his girlfriend entangled with...with...oh no entangled with you. 

Why did it have to be you? 

He cannot peel his eyes away from either of you, but especially his girl. Your back is to the mirror showcasing your ass and back, lustful eyes looking over your shoulder but what you're doing to Uchan is what's driving him mad. 

Your body blocks a quarter of hers, shoulder to shoulder as one hand is shoving fingers onto a pink tongue suggesting what she can do, pink lips in a soft O while her sweet innocent cheeks BURN. 

Dusting her in blush all the way to her breastbone. 

A delicate hand grasps onto a deadly forearm pushing up Uraraka's pretty tits that Izuku worships. He bites the inside of his lip, emerald eyes flash to scarlet across from him before flying back to the sinful glass. 

Your phone pings and you snatch it up. Smirking over the reaction. 

"You're out with Moonface right? Why is Deku blushing so God damn hard and why does he keep looking between me and his phone?"

You ignore the response for now, leaving him on read purposefully before snapping another picture. 

Deku's phone again demands his attention and he cannot deny it. 

Somehow his face becomes a darker hue, his large hand palming the ache in his pants as he tries to push through the droning meeting but the photo on the screen makes it that much harder to focus.

He cannot believe what he sees. 

The push pink chair is in the center and turned to the side. His favorite ass sits in the chair beneath thick thighs that sit atop of another thick pair. 

Deku bites the inside of his cheek to keep from groaning as he looks up from his favorite ass. 

The two of you are profile to him as you straddle his intoxicating girlfriend, one of your hands is gripping onto the breast furthest from the camera while the other seems to dip deep between the two of you. 

Right between Uraraka's legs. 

Your heads tilted slightly away from each other, both sets of cheeks heavily flushed as you pull slightly away from a dazed chestnut haired woman. 

Both of your tongues peeking past naturally rouged lips, a little saliva string connecting the two pink points.

Not once in Deku's 23 years did he ever think he would come close to cumming in his pants from an image. 

But shit this was close. 

He cannot peel his eyes away from his phone. And he does something he's never done before. 

"Director I'm sorry I need to take this call." He lies as he stands, pretending to put his now locked phone to his ear. 

Suspicion burns hot in Bakugou's blood and it is shown in a text you receive. 

"Kitten, if you ever want to cum again, you'll send me whatever the fuck you've gotta be sending dumbass Deku."

His voice plays through your speakers in a hush, his voice low and husky. Threatening even, as you can see him standing in the hall just outside of his meeting. The thought of his scowl paired with the sound of his voice had you more molten than your shared kiss with Uraraka san. 

"You okay?" You ask a very flushed Uchan who smiles happily before she reads you her received text. 

"'Baby you've got me fucked up. I'm in the men's bathroom right now. Can you guess why?'" She smiles before adding, "Then it's a picture of him stroking his cock. Y/N. I'm so turned on right now..." 

It takes her a second to hear what she's admitted out loud before you smile devilishly. 

"I guess I'm finally rubbing off on you." You smile before grabbing onto the pink chair once more using it to vault yourself back into your dressing room. 

"I can send the last picture to Bakugou right?" You ask, because her body,her rules, no matter what kind of punishment you might receive. 

"Yes I hope it does half of what it's done to Izuku!" She answers with joy. Humming as she redresses. 

More than going to buy what you picked out. 

"Meet us at the restaurant? We'll text you!" Mina shouts, "We're starving and text us what you want you heathen." 

"Yea, yea." You dismiss, as Mina assumes you're about to take more pictures.  Well she wasn't wrong, you were going to take more pictures.

You lived to remind yourself, and the world, that no matter what your mood or what you wore, you were sex embodied.

And God Damn it your boyfriend was going to notice even if it got you in a little hot water. 

Another text comes in, this time sans voice memo. You won't lie, you become a little crestfallen. 

"KITTEN!"

And you can hear the lustful furry even through text turning you into jelly. 

It's a good thing you're wearing your own underwear, as your thighs are beginning to become slick. The thin material doing nothing to sop you up. 

A picture comes through and your heart begins to race as you look it over. 

It's a black door with gold inlay, a little strip shows into the room. Showing off a pair of legs and nicely manicured toes. 

A tattoo identical to yours and your heart hammers into your chest when a second ping comes through. 

"Open the door, Kitten."

@lady-bakuhoe I guess I can share my husband with you for this😘

[rafecameron]

“I’d punch you, but that’d ruin that pretty little face of yours.” for topper pls bc we all know he’s a pretty boy :)

WARNING: A little more canon like Rafe than I usually write

You felt guilty every time you looked at Topper. You hated him, you knew you hated him and you knew all your friends did too. But you had no control over the butterflies that would stir up at the sight of him, nor could you stop the intrusive thoughts about what it would feel like to have his lips against yours. Your eyes would rake over his body, imagining his chest pressed against yours, his hands wandering your body and his lips pressing against your neck. He was handsome, you could at least admit that. He stirred up so many different feelings within yourself that you never knew how to act around him. If you saw him walking over to you you’d get fidgety with nerves, wanting nothing more than for him to grab you and kiss you right then and there. But then he’d make a comment to one of your friends and the butterflies would turn to lava in your stomach and you’d boil up with anger. He could get under your skin in all the right and wrong ways and you hated it.

You’d gotten into your fair share of fights with the kooks, admittedly not physical, Topper didn’t seem the type to hit a girl no matter how much he disliked them. Rafe on the other hand you were sure wouldn’t mind taking a swing at you if he could. But Topper always held him back, from you if at least not anybody else.

So it came as no surprise when you looked up from your book and noticed the trio sauntering over to you and your friends. The feeling of JJ stirring beside you was what pulled you out of your trance with the pages. He stood up, the rest of you not far behind him, meeting the kooks in the middle like some sort of battle was taking place - you were sure it would do.

“How many times do we have to tell you to stay off the cut?” JJ sneers doing his best to get in Rafes face but no one could match the tall boys stature.

Rafe simply looks down at him amused, “We wouldn’t have to keep coming down here if you’d dare to show your face in figure eight.”

“Have you been missing us, Rafe?” John B asks with a smirk.

Rafe snorts, “I’ve been missing pounding your faces in. Gets a little boring with no one to beat up.”

“I feel sorry for you if the only fun you can find is in beating people up. Must be a pretty boring existence on figure eight.” You comment crossing your arms over your chest.

“No one was talking to you, pogue.” Rafe snaps out, his eyes shooting a glare in your direction before turning back to the blonde in front of him.

You tune out to the rest of the confrontation, your eyes meeting that of Toppers who looked nothing if not amused with his friends antics.

“Don’t worry, we missed seeing your little face too.” He teases with a smirk.

You roll your eyes with a scoff, “Well we didn’t miss yours, feel free to leave at any time.”

Topper laughs at this, “You mean you didn’t miss undressing me with your eyes, y/n?”

If you weren’t so annoyed with the boy you’re sure you would have blushed furiously, “You know, it’s a sign of madness, imagining things that aren’t there.”

Topper just smirks and takes a step closer, his face the closest to yours it’s ever been and despite the anger you could feel the butterflies returning.

“Please, I know you want me.” He states in a teasing manner.

You furrow your brows together, trying your best to look unfazed by his close proximity, “As if. I’d punch you, but that would ruin that pretty little face of yours. Couldn’t have you running off crying.”

“So you do think I’m pretty,” Topper smirks ignoring the weightless threat, “I can see right through you.”

Topper stumbles back at the hard shove to his shoulders, JJ appearing beside you red faced with blood on his upper lip, “Back off kook, don’t lay a fucking hand on her.”

Topper laughs and holds his hands up in surrender, “Wouldn’t dream of hurting that pretty little face of yours.” He grins, finding himself a lot funnier than he was.

JJ glares at the kook as he backs off, joining his cronies as they disappear off down the beach again.

“What was all that about?” JJ asks, taking your shoulders and looking over your face to check Topper hadn’t done anything.

You simply shrug, half in answer half to get his hands off of you, “Just idiot kooks being idiot kooks.” You state then offer him a smile to show you’re truly okay, “Nothing to worry about.”

——

You didn’t usually attend parties on figure either. Preferring to stay as far away from that side of the island as you could - you much preferred the keggers your friends threw on the beach. But Sarah had convinced John B to go, who in turn had convinced Pope who begged the rest of you to go with them. You couldn’t say no to anything Pope asked no matter how much you’d like to.

So you found yourself in the Cameron house, surrounded by drunk kooks who all offered you looks of disdain as you walked around the house. You ignored them like you usually did, if one of them wanted to start a fight you’d be more than happy to entertain them.

You drank too much and danced like crazy, no different to the parties you usually attended. If you were going to be in kook territory you may as well drink their alcohol, and lord knows you have to be drunk to be around them all for this long. You thought the night was goi pretty well, you had managed to avoid Rafe and more importantly Topper pretty well so far. Being small enough to duck behind someone anytime you spotted them and slink away before they noticed you.

It wasn’t until you were exiting the bathroom upstairs that you were cornered. Rafes chest pressing against yours as he backed you into a corner, his arms resting either side of you to stop you escaping.

“Would you look at that, Sarah brought her little pets to the party.” He smirks.

You huff and roll your eyes, pushing on his arm to escape but he was too strong, his arm like a stone wall which you couldn’t budge.

“Back off, Rafe.” You sigh, you were in no mood to deal with him and honestly, Rafe frightened the hell out of you.

He was built, and he towered over everyone. You saw what he did to your friends every week and didn’t want to be on the end of the rage you knew lived inside of him at all times. You’d never been alone with him before and instantly decided you never wanted to again.

“Please, just leave me alone.” You say when he doesn’t budge, your eyes focusing on his chest not wanting to meet his eyes.

“Not so feisty when you’re alone are you, pogue.” He smirks, “Look at me.” But you don’t, your eyes stay glued to his chest.

You feel his hand around your jaw and your face is fired up, your eyes landing on Rafes which were wild with something other than alcohol, “Do I scare you, princess?” He laughs but it’s humourless and dark.

You don’t answer him, not sure what to say even if you could form words. Your heart was beating rapidly, your mind running rampant with all kinds of thoughts about what Rafe was going to do. You wished more than anything that one of your friends would turn up to save you but you’d left them all outside.

“I asked you a question.” Rafe speaks through gritted teeth, his fingers tightening on your jaw.

You open your mouth to speak but Rafes grip on you disappears as hands on his shoulders pull him back. He shoots a glare at the person behind him.

“Kelce’s looking for you man.” Topper states, starring Rafe down until the taller boy finally disappears down the hallway. “Did he hurt you?” Topper asks turning to face you now.

You stare him over for a moment, wondering why he cares at all but deciding the polite thing to do was answer.

You shake your head, your jaw a little bruised from his grip but you could live with that, “Thank you.” You say quietly, your terror soon turning to nervousness as the boys blue eyes study your face.

“I’m sorry,” he says, “He shouldn’t do stuff like that. It’s not right.”

You shrug simply, “it’s Rafe.” You reply with a soft laugh, pretending not to be as affected by it as you were.

“That’s not an excuse.” Topper sighs, he places his red cup down on the side next to you, his hand reaching up to tilt your chin eyes examining where Rafes fingers had been.

“I’m fine, Topper.” You try to get away from his grasp but you were already backed up to the wall and had nowhere to escape from, but you weren’t scared of Topper.

His fingers linger on your jaw, his thumb rough as it ran against your cheek and you felt yourself subconsciously lean into his touch. He moves forward, his chest against yours as he looks down at you. The setting much like the one with Rafe but instead of the fright you had felt you were consumed with fluttering nerves. Your breath caught in your throat leaving you unable to speak for a completely different reason this time.

Topper could sense your nervousness, he could see the way you looked at him and knew he was right with what he’d said the day previously, it caused him to smirk.

“I knew you thought I was pretty.” He comments, you frown and open your mouth to deny it but his lips cover yours before you get the chance. You melt into him, not willing to fight him away even if you had the energy. You let his tongue slide past yours lips, tangling with your own as your hands moved up his chest and around your neck.

You had imagined kissing Topper before, but this was nothing like that you thought it would be. You imagined him to be rough and dominating but instead this was soft and tender. His hand held your jaw gently as his other cane to rest on your hip, his lips moving slowly against yours trying to savour the moment and burn it to his memory.

When he finally pulled away you were both left breathless, eyes staring into one another’s as if you’re the only two people in the world right now.

“I guess I find you pretty too.” Topper murmurs, his thumb running over your lower lip before his own are back on them.

@rafej-cambanks @joshy-obx @topperthornton @starlightstarkey

[lilyhoshikawa]

🎥💕💎

Nyanko didn’t specify so I’m gonna do this abt WKTD and u can’t stop me!!

🎥: Do you have any favorite scenes from your hyperfixation?

I’m a basic Jupiter kinnie sadly so as expected. My favorite scene has gotta be the Red Ending 3am scene. There’s such a beautiful, horrible tension in the early moments- the anxiety and uncertainty over knowing that the least obvious among the trio is going to become the devil, the sad bargaining in lines like

“We don’t need to know who the devil is. It’s just a phase. …right?”

Which transitions into this pleading, and then

Venus: “I can feel fingers on my face and arm and everywhere.”

Jupiter: “Ahaha. Gross. I’m gross.”

And then the most iconic scene in this entire game, the most powerful and tiny act of the hair tie breaking, a piece of symbolism so small yet so monumentally significant. And then everything that follows, the entire speech.

“Don’t touch me. You shouldn’t touch me. I wasn’t born good.”

Talk abt lines that live in my mind rent free dhdjbdjd. Everyone talks about “I wasn’t born good” bc it’s a killer line and very relatable, but shoutout to some other stars:

“I can try hard, but I think… God knows my heart isn’t really in it.”

“Y’all are sweet. But don’t do that. I won’t be happy if you do.”

“I want to touch. I want to be touched. I want to hurt. I want to be hurt. And if you feel the same way, you’re as bad as me.”

“Won’t you let me feel like a real devil for a moment?”

And that’s all just. Amazing. There’s so much to say abt that from the perspective of religious guilt alone, of ppl who have experienced that unique kind of internal struggle with Christianity, let alone the compounded complications of being gay, trans, neurodivergent. It’s a really impactful scene especially for the game’s themes, bringing them all together in the perspective of your typical idealistic leader character, of the one who wants to be good the most (that’s also why it’s imperative you play this ending last).

💕: Tell us about one of your favorite characters and why you like them!

I have committed the grave act of hubris in answering that first category in-depth before realizing I already elaborated on my answer for this one. Oops! Oh well.

Obviously it doesn’t take much to figure out my fave of the trio but every character is really important and I don’t wanna get caught up in rambling about Jupiter knowing she seems to be most ppl’s favorite.

All of the trio have different reactions to trauma, in particular the trauma of their world in which Christian morality is the actual law of the land. Many ppl can relate to Jupiter’s need to go along with it and to “fix herself” but I find the other two equally compelling.

Neptune isn’t happy with the way things are, she’s furious, bitter and burned. It’s criminal that the writers don’t elaborate on it more, but she’s existed for this long in a system that has already judged her bad, has already decided her very existence is wrong, and to her, it’s horrific and baffling how many people are okay to sit back and accept the same. The pain she feels watching the other members of her group suffer, trying so hard to appease a system that has already discarded them. Neptune isn’t interested in offering platitudes to a system that has already tossed her to the side, deemed her bad and irredeemable. Frankly, she doesn’t even care. What hurts her, what bothers her, is seeing other people grapple with the guilt that isn’t theirs to own, to try and fix in themselves what was never a problem to begin with. It’s like seeing a friend suffer a tragedy and blame themselves every time.

And Venus, perhaps most interesting of all, also knows that. She’s aware that the system is stacked against her and everyone else, and she’s bitter about it, but she knows nothing else. She goes along with it, and all the bullying and pain and hardship that comes with it. She isn’t deluded into trying to overturn her odds and prove herself to be good like Jupiter is, she’s apathetic, she’s accepted the hand she’s been dealt. She doesn’t fight back against her bullies because she has simply accepted their abuse as a natural part of her existence. She wants more, wants better, and has glimpses of hope that it’s obtainable- perhaps if she does what she’s told, if she doesn’t complain, if she puts up with it, one day she’ll get what she wants, what she needs to survive. But she won’t, she never will. She accepts all the hardship, all the abuse, all the confusion or a world built for and around people who aren’t like her, who can’t understand her- and she does it silently hoping things may get better on their own.

All three worst girls mean so much, have such meaningful and interesting perspectives and tell such compelling stories on personal levels which are only made more powerful by their union, by their coexistence and the vague, awkward but hopeful clashing of their disparate realities, coping mechanisms and outlooks. It’s shaky, it’s difficult, but they provide for each other what they each lack- Jupiter receive permission to be enough as she is, Neptune receives validation and companionship, and Venus receives the accommodations she needs to be her authentic self, no longer hidden. It’s really powerful, for trauma survivors and the mentally ill and for LGBT+ ppl.

💎 Are there any fun facts or trivia you would like to share?

Something most ppl may know but that I almost missed is that the original demo for the game- titled “We Know the Demo”- is actually not just a shortened version of the game or anything, but a unique prequel story that fills in some more gaps in characterization and worldbuilding, which I found very valuable for my fic “The Light God Didn’t Make.”

It includes such scenes as Neptune being secretly unstoppable at dodgeball, Venus infodumping, Neptune pointing out the fact we all know that Jupiter would look cool holding a guitar, and also Venus singing. All of them iconic bits.

The demo is free off the developers’ website and functions basically the same as the game, with picking a duo of characters to interact in each scene, so it’s a great complimentary piece to play before or after, and it’s really helpful in developing a better characterization of the trio if ur looking for that.

[cottage-babe]

Burning Scars part III

Previous | Chapter 3 | Next 

Masterlist

Sooo I lied... NEXT chapter will give more details on Y/n’s past. I was gonna write it in this chapter, but this came out wayyyy too long. 

I also changed the story up a bit from the shows plot, but it’s generally the same. 

Summary: Y/n, a werewolf from a hidden village, comes across Zuko and Iroh after being exiled. How has fate intertwined the wolf into the avatar's destiny?

*****This chapter takes place on Season 2 Episode 11 (I love using quotes from the show!!)

___

It was late into the afternoon when the three of them set out on their journey to the next town. 

The sun was bright and was about an hour away from setting into the highest peaks of the mountains. The forest around them was quiet; the only noises being made were soft crunches as the feet of the ostrich-horses padded into the dirt path. Yes, you heard that right. Ostrich-horses. 

Lee decided to take an extra one that was there in the stables so the three of them could travel faster. When Y/n asked him how much it costed him, he said the owner had generously lent it for free. Of course, even she wasn’t stupid enough to believe that. 

But nonetheless, they traveled with Mushi on his own Ostrich-horse while Lee and Y/n rode the other one. The girl still couldn’t manage to ride the horse properly and had to stick both legs on one side. She had tried to ride with Mushi, but he insisted that the pain in his shoulder would increase if she ever needed to hold on to him and that it was safer to be with Lee. She doubted she would ever need to hold on to a rider, but she didn’t want to hurt the old man, so she agreed with him. 

Turns out, she was wrong and on multiple occasions the ride became too steep for her to just hold on to the saddle. Y/n had to grip tightly onto Lee until the hills would even out (and let her just say, Lee was not as scrawny as he seemed to be).

The trio traveled a lot faster than they did the first time. An hour had passed and the town and its people were already miles away. The sun’s last rays shone out of the mountains before it faded away; the sky turning from bright orange to a light lavender. 

For the entire ride, they were oddly silent. It seemed that the events that had occurred earlier in the day quieted the two talkative members. This silence was soon broken by a quiet moaning. 

“Uhhhh.... OhhAhoo...” Mushi quietly groaned. 

Y/n and Lee looked over to the old man to see him clutching at his shoulder. 

“Maybe we should make camp,” said Lee.

“No please,” Mushi insisted. “Don’t stop just for me.”

Then, Mushi shot the girl a wink and continued to groan loudly. Y/n giggled as Lee’s shoulders began to tense up and he pulled the reins of their ride to halt the animal. Mushi copied his nephew. 

“This is a good place to stop anyways.” Y/n spoke as she hopped off. “I can hear water somewhere around here.”

It was a quiet sound; a soft rushing of a stream, perhaps a river. It'd be nice for her to finally take a real bath.

"Really? I don't hear anything." Lee said when he jumped down beside her.

She should probably make a mental list of all the things that humans can't do. To start it off: humans have sucky hearing. The water seemed about half a mile away, so a 5 minute jog or 10 minute walk. The fact that they couldn't hear the it was quite alarming.

How have humans survived this long?

Y/n shrugged her shoulders in response to Lee. 

“Seems like my ears are just superior to yours,” she grinned competitively. 

Lee playfully glared back at her before a small smile rested on his face. Maybe the two were finally coming to better terms. 

The trio grabbed all of their things from the horses and set up their camp. They didn’t have much; two sleeping bags that belonged to the boys, a tea pot with cups, and some food from the last village. Unfortunately, Y/n didn’t have anywhere to sleep, but that didn’t phase her at all. The floor wasn’t the worst place she’d slept. 

Although the sun had already set, the sky had yet to succumb to darkness and it was still quite bright. The girl in the group decided that she still had enough time to bathe and make it back before the stars appeared, so she grabbed the clothes she had borrowed from Lee and started on her path to the river. 

Being back in the forest, away from the barren sun and rocky floors, brought a swell of happiness to Y/n. The passing breeze sang to her as it fluttered through the trees; an orchestrated harmony to match the chattering animals that hid in secret places around her. It was so nice to be back, to feel so free. 

She spun around with a quiet laugh and the skirt of her dress twirled around her. The girl felt so at home that it almost seemed that nothing had happened to her; almost like she hadn’t been forced to leave her pack and be taken in by strangers. It just felt so free here. 

Y/n slipped off her shoes and began to run.

The wind blew past her in defiance to her speed, but nothing seemed to slow her down. The smiling girl jumped over wood logs, through leaning branches, and sped past towering trees. 

It wasn’t until the greenery subsided into an open area that the girl stopped her antics. The sound of the wind was soon replaced by a the soft hum of the flowing river. 

She stopped to catch her breath, then undressed to begin her shower. Before she stepped into the water, Y/n sat down on the dirty clothes so she could examine the wound that adorned her thigh. Slowly, she unwrapped the white cloth then set it off to the side; just at the bank of the river. Her hands drifted to the wound and gently felt the skin there.

Her bite had completely healed already. 

She bit her lip as she tried to think. The skin had scarred deeply and settled into  a pinkish tone that showed where the teeth marks had been. She knew that a werewolf’s period of healing was slightly faster than a human’s, so she’s going to have to cover it back up with the used wraps before she could go back to see the boys. 

Ew, that’s kinda gross. 

Ignoring her disgust, Y/n walked into the water. The sensation cooled her skin and the water lapped around her. The river was fairly calm, but the flow of the water gently pushed up against the shore before receding back down. She scrubbed her body with her hands until the area ran clear and the mud drifted down the long river. When she finished, she cleaned out her borrowed clothes from Lee. They weren’t that dirty, but she wanted to be polite as a her way of thanks. 

Soon she waded back to shore (after seeing the first few stars twinkle in the sky) and put her dress back on. The girl looked to where she had set her bandages, but her eyes only found an empty spot. 

Oh no.

She frantically searched around the bank of the river for the white, bloody pieces of cloth, but unfortunately came up empty handed. They weren’t hidden in the reeds or blown away to a near by rock. They were gone.

Y/n stood still for a moment, trying to think if she had misplaced them. No, she had left them right here at the edge of the shore, just a few feet away from the river so it wouldn’t get swept up in the wa-

Just as she thought that, the tides rushed up and touched her feet, exactly where she knew she left her wraps. 

The water had carried her bandages away. 

What was she supposed to do now? She can’t go back to the boys with her bite magically healed. They would suspect that she was a “dangerous being” or something. 

She’s going to have to see if they have an extra one that she could take without their suspicion. She’d steal it if she had to. 

And that was what riddled her mind as she walked back to their campsite. Maybe it would be too dark for them to see her scars? No, they would have a camp fire. 

Eventually, Y/n saw the orange light of their fire and paused before she hit the edge of the treeline. The two boys were sitting on rocks next to the fire while drinking tea and eating. They seemed to be having a light and happy conversation between them. 

Okay, good moods = good reactions. 

Here goes nothing.

Y/n walked over to Lee and Mushi; both of them looking up to greet her. They both had a smile on their faces that met their eyes. It was good to see Lee so happy. 

Lee looked at the pile of wet clothes in her hands that conveniently covered her wound. “Oh, you washed my clothes. You didn’t have to.” 

He held his hands out to take the clothing. Y/n quickly passed it to him, then brought her hands back in front of her. She tried to nonchalantly cover her scar, but it seemed like Lee noticed it anyways. 

“Do you need some new bandages?” He asked, standing up straight. “I can help you put them on. Let me go get them.”

He walked over to his bag and ruffled through it until he pulled out the clean wraps. When he returned, Lee looked as though he was looking for a place for the girl to sit. Instead, she raised one hand up to politely decline him. 

“Really, Lee, it’s fine. I can do it myself.” She tried to reach out for the wrap with the hand that didn’t cover her leg, but he pulled the item back. 

“There is no reason to cover up your wound, Y/n!” Mushi laughed. “It can’t be any worse than what we saw yesterday.” 

Y/n forced a laugh out when she looked at the old man, but unfortunately for her, Lee saw this moment to catch her off guard and grab both her hands. He had planned to pull her down to sit on the large rock, but paused when his eyes met her leg. 

Lee instantly gasped and let go of her.

Y/n slowly backed away in fear of his reaction with wide eyes. 

“U-uhh, I c-can explain,” she said defensively and she raised her hands up in a surrender. 

Once his eyes saw what the cause of the commotion was, Mushi rose from his position and stared at the girl with a confused look. Lee, on the other hand, had drawn two swords out of nowhere and was threatening her with it. 

“Why is your leg healed already? What are you?” He yelled. 

Y/n was a few feet away from him and was still racking her brain for an answer to his question. Should she just confess everything right now? And put her people at risk? Was her life really worth the safety of her town; the people that betrayed her? 

She decided that now was not the time to let everything out and took a step toward Lee, her plan being to calm him before he decided to kill her.

“Lee, listen to me. I’m not-” 

Her words and steps were interrupted by one of the boy’s swords sweeping out, a line of... fire shooting out?! 

Y/n jumped back quickly and barely dodged the lick of the flames.

H-how is he...? Did he just...?

Before she could think much of it, Mushi had shaken off the shock and ran towards Lee.

“Zuko! Stop!” The old man warned. He grasped one of Lee’s arms to stop him from harming the girl.

The young boy grunted while sweeping out the arm that was yet to be captured and another shot of heat spread from it. It tried to reach her again, so instead of jumping back, she ran toward the forest in a complete sprint, ignoring the calls of Mushi behind her. 

She was completely hidden in the trees and bushes before she decided to look back. Her eyes focused on the two males that couldn’t see her and saw that they were arguing quietly... well sorta quietly. Mushi was whisper yelling while Lee was quite loud. 

Lee’s words of mistrust leaked from his mouth and flooded her area. Could he really feel that way? She had thought that they were becoming friends, but it turned out she was wrong .

Y/n’s heart still felt like it was beating out of her chest. 

What was she supposed to do now? Why did fire come out of his hands? Will they try to kill her? Mushi wouldn’t let that happen, right? Lee was such a wildcard, though, so who knows what could happen. 

So much things were happening in such a short period of time. Just yesterday she had been shamed and banished from her pack, marked with a bite that will show her embarrassment for all time. And today she relished in the care of Lee and Mushi before they, too, turned on her. Maybe she should start taking that “lone wolf” phrase more seriously. 

But leaving now was so hard. She didn’t know where the next town was and she didn’t know anyone nearby. Once again, she was faced with the torment of being an outcast. 

It was way too dark to travel, so the lonely wolf girl laid on the softest part of the ground; the two men never leaving her line of sight in case they moved too close. 

Perhaps hours had passed, but soon enough the girl’s exhaustion caught up with her and she succumbed to the patient whispers of her dreams. 

___

“Shut up Ayano!” Y/n whispered as the two of them made it out of their den, past the sleeping wolves. 

They were lucky to even have made it this far; most of the pack had gone out for a long days hunt and were exhausted. Since it was so late into the night, everyone was deep in their sleep. 

Her sister giggled once more into the palm of her hand. She always loved the thrill of sneaking out, didn’t she?

Soon enough, the sisters made it deep into the forest to find their meeting spot. It was a large rock that curved inward and up toward the bright moon. Ayano and Y/n ran to the side of it and began to dig with their hands into the soft dirt; their palms becoming increasingly dirty until their hands met a large leather bag. They opened the bag to retrieve it’s contents, but paused when they heard a low growl. 

The girls looked around worriedly; scared that they had been caught in the act of leaving. The punishment would be severe, especially with their family’s high ranking. Three sets of glowing red eyes appeared behind the bushes and they challenged the sisters. The girls knew better however and stood statue-like. 

Then, the hiding wolves pounced on the two girls and Y/n gasped in surprise. Ayano was tackled harshly to the ground, the impact leaving a bruise on her human skin, no doubt. She let out a small scream and tried to get away from the large animal above her. 

The night was dark, but even the white streak of fur that lined the back of the angry wolf couldn’t be hidden. Y/n scoffed.

“Binu, get off of her.” 

The wolf’s red eyes looked over to where you were standing and bared its teeth in a growl. Eventually, the noise morphed into an obnoxious laugh as the boy changed into his human body.

“We really got you guys, didn’t we?” Binu rolled off of his sister and helped her up. 

Ayano angrily wiped at her body to removed the dirt; she had spent an hour cleaning herself at the pond earlier. 

“You guys are so stupid, what if an Elder heard us and we all would be punished because of your idiotic games.” The girl mumbled. 

The two other boys shifted into their bodies as well. The three of them were the sister’s brothers: Binu, Fen, and Shong. They were all technically twins (or whatever you call a set of five), as they were born at the same time from the same mother. 

“I told them the same thing, Ayano!” Fen whispered while he looked around in fear of someone watching. “I don’t even think we should go out tonight, we should stay here and get ready for the trials tomorrow.” 

Shong pushed his brother to the side and walked over to the leather bag that the girls had dug out before. “Quit being such an ass-kisser, Fen. It’s not like we have anything to worry about anyways. Our plan is fool proof.” 

He opened the bag and threw everyone their clothes. The siblings quickly got dressed in their brown and green attire. 

“Are we ready?” Shong asked. 

The group nodded and started on their journey to the human town a couple of miles away. Binu had overheard that a festival was occurring that night in the village; the cause of the celebration was unknown, but the five of them just adored the liveliness of the humans. They always got so much happier at night when the music was playing and the lanterns were out. 

They eventually made it to the town and heard the soft beating of a drum accompanying the laughter of the citizens. 

Thump... Thump... Thump...

___

Thump... Thump... Thump...

Y/n’s eyes shot open from her dream. That noise was not just in her head.

She slowly got up from her position on the floor and rubbed the sleepiness from her eyes. The sun was barely peaking out from the eastern mountains; it must be morning. The boys were laying in their bed rolls fast asleep, but they probably wouldn’t even hear anything if they were awake.

Y/n strained her ears to listen again for the beating noise. It sounded like a pack of big, four legged animals. The way they ran sounded different than wolves and it seemed like they were half a mile away... okay now way less than that. 

They’re so fast and they’re coming in this direction!

She was going to jump out and wake them up (even despite their large fight last night, she didn’t want them trampled), but then she head human voices near the animals. They must be tamed animals then.

So Y/n decided to wait in her spot at the edge of the trees to see if the boys were going to react in any way. They were certainly cautious when she first met them. 

The animals had finally made it to the boy’s camp and the girl looked around the trees to see them. 

They were five huge... lizard things? They didn’t seem too dangerous, but the men riding them looked like they would kill someone. They were decked out in black and red clothing and made a tight circle around the sleeping men.

Lee and Mushi’s ostrich-horse began to get antsy at it’s post. The squawks of the bird aroused the men from their sleep and they finally noticed the group around them. They jumped up and held their hands in the same position that had threatened her with. 

Maybe that’s how they fight, or it could be that weird flame thing from last night.

The two men were clearly outnumbered. Even if they could fight well, it seemed like the group around them were warriors of some kind. If it came down to it, Y/n would help them without hesitation. 

After a tense moment of glaring, Mushi lowered his arms and placed a hand on Lee's shoulder. The younger boy didn't lower his guard, glanced around at his uncle. 

"Colonel Mongke!" Mushi smiled. "What a pleasant surprise!"

The man who spoke next, presumably Colonel Mongke, had three large feathers poking out the top of his head. His face was long and a gold nose ring adorned it. 

"If you're surprised we're here, then the Dragon of the West has lost a few steps."

Then, he and his group began displaying their weapons; clashing gauntlets, swinging swords, and aiming bows. 

A show of power, huh?

Y/n had seen this many times before when she was with her pack; animals would demonstrate their deadliest trait to scare their opponents. This challenge of strength caused the girl to release a low growl. 

Wow, didn't know I could do that as a human. 

This was really getting serious. Y/n began removing her clothes and throwing them into a pile on the floor. If she was going to change, then she didn't want to ruin her brand new dress. 

"You know these guys?" Lee spoke as the group's flaunting finished. 

"Sure, Colonel Mongke and the Rough Rhinos are legendary. Each one is a different kind of weapon specialist." Mushi looked around to each person. "They are also a very capable singing group."

Y/n let out a laugh, of course he would find something to joke about now. 

"We're not here to give a concert." Mongke snarled, "We're here to apprehend fugitives!"

Fugitives?

Mushi rubbed at his arm. "Would you like some tea first? I'd love some. How about you, Kahchi? I make you as a jasmine man. Am I right?"

"Enough stalling! Round 'em up!"

Those words were a good enough cue for Y/n to join in as well. As the first sounds of battle began to ring out, the girl began her transformation. 

She could feel her bones stretch, her fur growing out of her skin, her teeth elongating. It used to be such a painful experience, but she grew numb to the feelings already. Being in her natural fur could only be described as freedom. 

The girl knew exactly how she looked to everyone; her fur was as black as the night sky and her eyes matched. It was the one thing that separated her from her siblings, their eyes being a fiery red while hers blended with darkness. It's why she was always the best hunter. 

But here in the daylight, she probably looked like a hound straight from the shadows of the spirit world. To humans, she was probably otherworldly. 

Y/n jumped out of her hiding spot and attacked the first red man she saw. He had an arrow docked on his bow that was aimed straight at Lee and was about to release it, but the girl's claws reached him first. She tackled him off his saddle and bared her teeth at him. 

No, I can't kill them. Not in front of Lee and Mushi. 

Instead of doing the harm she wanted, the girl used her paw to push him away like a rag doll. The fear of dying was enough for him to jump on his lizard-animal and ride away in the direction they came. 

Y/n looked around to see that everyone had stopped to look at her. They had probably never seen a creature like her. 

Mushi took this opportunity to wrap the chain of one of the men's weapons around the leg of a nearby steed and sent the lizard running, efficiently ridding the battle of another opponent. 

Lee fought with the Colonel, but the man stopped attacking when he saw Y/n beginning to approach his other two members. 

Mongke yelled at his men to retreat before smirking at Lee and Mushi. 

"I'll just let nature finish the two of you off."

He quickly rode off with the rest of his group and left the trio alone. 

Mushi and Lee looked at you with fear, determination, and confusion written across their faces. The younger boy looked as though he was getting ready to strike her; as if she was some wild animal that needed to be tamed. 

Alright, let's stop this before they try to kill me. 

Y/n began to shrink back down to her human form; her bones reduced in size, her fur and claws retracted into her skin. Slowly, the girl returned to be the person Lee and Mushi had helped before. 

Mushi's eyes widened in disbelief, "Oh my."

Lee had the same look decorating his face. It was as if he wanted to speak, but the only words that left his mouth were stutters of random letters. 

Y/n was kneeling on the dirt floor and stood as the boys processed her. She looked at their faces to gauge their reactions, but was left confused when Mushi looked to the side and Lee froze with a red face. She followed the boy's gaze until it landed on her very naked body. 

Oh, spirits...

Y/n quickly used her arms to cover as much as she could and ran back into the forest. 

"W-wait! Come back!" Lee shouted after her. 

She was kind of flattered that he tried to stop her from leaving. It was the only thing that littered her mind as she gathered her clothing and put them back on with a smile. This might mean that they've changed their minds about her. 

After she was dressed appropriately, Y/n took a deep breath and stepped out of her cover into the duo's line of sight. They looked relieved to see that she hadn't run away. 

"I think we have a lot to talk about," she said, wringing both hands in front of her in an almost shy manner. 

This is going to be a long conversation. 

___

That was about 4,000 words, phew. 

Previous | Chapter 3 | Next

Masterlist

Taglist: @bucky-blogs @hopefuloperaangelnerd @simplyfandomish @oddlypointlessescapes ((Sorry the tag didn’t work!))

[ririnpoga]

OK UH UH UH

I was tagged by @soysaucemachine on this thingie meme thing to put uh my wip’s names EXACTLY as they are on the folder and like. uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh                      hhhhhhhhh *stares at the pile of 59 shit i have to write* Anyways lets gO as always people can ask me about one of these wips or some shit ig idk most titles are me having 7 different mental breakdowns at the same time so yeah

1. toga watches mlp and this is the hill i die on. dabi does too ig 2. COULD HAWKS FEATHERS POTENTIALLY WORK AS TENTA- *B O N K* 3. LoV work on a literal shopping mall and dabi works at kfc the saga 4. LoV work on a literal shopping mall and toga works at starbucks the saga II 5. LoV work on a literal shopping mall and shigaraki decays it down the saga III 6. The bunny stops shigaraki oh fuck oh no shes hot what am i gonna do ha,,,,, 7. toe 8. WHY AM I WRITING VOCALOID FANFIC IN 2021 I 9. The depressed scientist, the sadist doctor and the dumbass vet, all in love. White coat trio. 10. i rlly think antarc should have a polar bear for a pet considering how theyre literally ice on the anime 11. the hair dreamworld thing for padpa which will have 10 chapters or some shit. fuck. WHY DO THEIR HAIR LOOK SO FLUFFY I WANNA SCREAM 12. why am i writing vocaloid fanfic in 2021 part two electric boogaloo 13. ghghhghhhhghhghhgh FRIENDS TO LOVERS TO ENEMIES TO LOVERS AGAIN. 14. i rlly think dabi should learn how to pole dance yk 15. daddy rick astley/reader 16. uh 17. DREAM/BILL 200K ENEMIES TO LOVERS TUMBLR SEXYMAN HIGHSCHOOL (not actually 200k. probably.) 18. WHY THE FUCK AM I WRITING VOCALOID FANFIC IN 2021. PART III 19. do i really want to try and write dumbass ace attorney fanfic 20. toe (2) 21. VILLAIN OCHAKO GOOD. gay 22. dabi and toga have a type and its literally bird 23. LOVE LIVE FANFIC? 24. apparently yes ace attorney fanfic 25. THIS HIGHSCHOOL IS LITERALLY HELL I WANNA CRY its not even a highschool like think about it its a small kids school plus teens plus adult what is this does this has a na 26. demon/angel good but make it bnha 27. demon/angel good but make it 28. SANS/ONCELER 29. toe (3) 30. furry haha 31. I FOUND THIS PAIR ON ACCIDENT WHY IS IT SO FUCKING GOOODDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDD 32. vocaloid fanfic part 6 i wanna cry what is this 33. lets make a highschool idol group~ *star* NO FUCK YOU 34. update they make the hs idol group 35. UPDATE THE SCHOOL BURNED DOWN. 36. update theyre dating now ig (all of these are the same fanfic but different chapters, but alas im too lazy to yk, write only one chapter at a time) 37. sonic/komaeda 38. demo angle 39. dabi stop adopting children i know my apartment was literally empty and only had like a bathroom and a bed but you cant just randomly bring 4 children home and say theyre ours now 40. hawks where the fuck are the children 41. CAN WE GET AN F ON THE CHAT GAMERS 42. toe (4) 43. i rlly think padpa would drop out of school to work on vocaloid to be completely honest. hs aus fun because they never get homework as opposing rela life 44. A 45. i will never finish this 46. VOCALOID FANFIC. PART 8. AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA 47. DASHCON AU DASHCON AU DASHCONA U DA 48. wow did i actually write something for my oc huh 49. was happy feet a movie 50. DANGANRONPA F-FANFIC,?????????????????? 51. no no you will not eat my girlfriend 52. ok this one is actually a fairy/demon 53. dashcon au but for the other fanodm 54. i just think dabi would catfish men into giving him money and hawks would be a simp yk 55. more rarepair content because toga deserves it 56. steals your peepe 57. toe (5) 58. vocaloid fanfic part 10 i wanna cry 59. im babey im taggin @peachygos because u r the only person i talk with here ;)

[whirlybirbs]

birb’s big ol’ take on THE RISE OF SKYWALKER below!

honestly, i had fun. it was a fun movie -- and i’ve never been a star wars purist. these movies, ever since i was a kid, have brought me so much joy. i could care less about the quality a lot of the time because the movies mean so much to me, but honestly TROS cemented my belief that TLJ was a joke. i might catch flak for it, but there was so much that... i coulda just.... never known. or seen. and the end would have been the same. 

in all fairness, watching the originals (4-6) have the same effect on me. same war, same moral high-ground, same narrative, same twists. it’s kinda on brand for star wars to not make much sense until the end. 

i honestly enjoyed it. a lot. there were some weird plot holes, some weird moments, but it was fun. and i saw my favorite characters grow and evolve and !!! anyways, here are some top moments i’d like to address. 

1. king grouch poe dameron ran spice.

he ran spice. this motherfucker. ran spice. he ran spice and had a hot bounty hunter partner and he left for the cause. poe left the criminal underground for the naval academy so he could fight for something and... i love him. 

kinda outta left field -- but you know what isn’t?

2. trio dynamics.

poe and rey arguing. fin is tired. he’s trying to keep it all together. rey likes to prod poe for fun. poe is just trying to fucking do his best. i love the idea that rey and poe, the two poster children for the resistance bicker endlessly -- it’s like leia’s two other kids. 

(also, the base on ajan kloss? beautiful. literally so so beautiful. in fact, all the planets we see? stunning. the movie itself is breathtaking.)

3. what the fuck was finn gonna say

i mean, probably confess his love, bc if i’m not shipping rose/rey or rey/literally any woman ever, i’m shipping rey/finn. their dynamic is pure and good and healthy and they love and support one another and -- ugh GOD my KING JOHN BOYEGA LOOKED SO FUCKIN GOOD. 

4. jedi master leia organa

do i need to make a comment on this? i open mouth sobbed. that’s my princess. that’s my BITCH!!!!!!!!! also? force luke being like “rey u bitch don’t u dare throw my shit into that fire pit”.

5. hux is the fucking mole because of fucking course he is, that slimy bastard, i love him.

honestly, we knew. we alllllll knew. we knew that insufferable brat was out for kylo’s whole ass -- but i do wish, instead of adding old empire general’s, they’d stuck with hux in command. the collateral damage and shock value would have been so much better. not to mention, a good old side switch. i wanna see hux on ajan kloss swatting at bugs and being uncomfortable. 

i’m poe: “I KNEW IT WAS YOU.”

6. thank fucking god for a ben solo redemption arc. thank fucking god. 

i’ve been talking about ben’s redemption for a while now -- one that’s only fitting if he dies in the process and! MY MAN JJ CAME THRU. HE KNEW. 

honestly this movie really did solidify ben solo as one of my favorite characters in the star wars universe -- there’s such a strong dichotomy to this evil creature he’s been groomed to be and himself, the idiot goes “ow” to no one in particular after a hard fall. he’s so so so like han it hurts. 

i think he arc is so much like a manic comedown -- in the beginning of the movie he’s just nerves on fire. 

and the elephant in the room:

the r*ylo kiss. 

ok, here’s the thing. i’m gonna analyze this real quick.

rey, my absolute queen, saves ben the moment after she absolute kicks his ass. the moment of weakness is spurred by leia reaching out -- she distracts ben, he feels her, rey strikes, leia dies with ben. rey feels it. and she feels guilt. so, she gives a part of her lifeforce to ben, healing him.

earlier in the movie, with that big ol’ snake? me thinks: dats symbolism luv.

kylo ren is a terrifying serpent, hidden deep in the caverns of the dark, wounded and dangerous -- but with a tepid hand and compassion, rey offers a piece of herself to heal the serpent. and what happens? the snake moves, and the caverns are filled with light. 

ben comes to after that -- after his sworn enemy strikes him down and saves his life in one swoop. ben sees his father. he reconciles. and han knows he’s sorry. and just like rey tried to throw luke’s saber in the fire to escape the mantle of jedi, ben promptly hurls his lightsaber (a symbol of his imbalance, volatility, evil) into this terrifying sea. 

rey is fire, ben is water. balance.

so, then there’s the whole twin-force-bond-dyad-weird-shit. it’s a bit much of an explanation as to why rey and ben are tied together karmatically -- them just being such polar opposites on a similar journey is enough for me. 

i think -- honestly -- after rey defeats palpatine by his own hand? and she passes? ben felt it. he sacrificed himself for her, in one last show for his mother’s spirit. 

the kiss? rey felt him slipping away, felt what he wanted -- love and acceptance and... i dunno, man, ben’s smile said it all. i’m not a particularly big shipper of it (there’s a lot of toxicity within enemies to lovers tropes, especially one as a deep as rey and ben’s) but it was nice to see, in those last few minutes, ben solo throw away the dark for something good. 

hhhhhhhhhhhh pls don’t burn me at stake

[fbdo-ohyeaaaaah]

oh katelyn! i was thinking about this earlier and i was wondering... do you have any other polyam ships/ot3s besides The ot3? if so i’d absolutely love to hear them and where they’re from!

oh sure of course! i think i had two main ones before i came across the ot3 (although i think there might be more, granted though i haven’t been polyshipping for long). the first one is the vintage ot3 kathy/don/cosmo from singing in the rain, i know they don’t have much screentime as a trio but i really love the screentime they do have together, i did end up rewatching “good morning” a lot haha. i think they have a lot of chemistry and work really great together as characters. also, found fanfic of it on ao3, a lot of it is really good and led me to shipping them even more, bc you get to see more of how well their personalities can work off each other.

the second one is ian/alan/ellie (dinot3 is the nickname) from the first jurassic park movie. ive gotta admit, there isn’t a whole lot to work with when it comes to them in the actual movie, in fact i only stumbled across this ship after putting “polyamory cute” or something in the tumblr search bar (because apparently that’s what you do when you start to think you might be polyamorous) and seeing a fanart of them and getting curious about it. then after seeing some more fanart/posts and reading a few fantastic pieces of fanfic (i’ll recommend them if ur interested) i realized how good of a ship it was. i didn’t know good romance could come out of three witty scientists dealing with dino trauma but apparently it can. 

also at one point i fantasized about a version of the new star wars trilogy where finn’s dating both rey and rose and then rey and rose end up becoming friends and eventually date each other (i know their characters haven’t really talked but nobody argue with me on this those girls would be the start of a friends-to-lovers slow burn within 5 seconds of bonding w/ each other) and then finn and poe have their own separate relationship and all four of them are just. friends yknow like all of them buddies and i still can’t believe we never got to see all four of them being friends in the movies. anyway i never really did anything with it bc i’m not that invested in star wars atm, maybe someday. i also like professor marston and the wonder women but u knew that hehe

i think i might have others but nothing else really comes to mind, sorry! i think i dont have many other poly ships bc ive had fbdo ot3 tunnel vision for the past several months lol, that might change though when i eventually watch other movies w/ practically canon poly rep like leverage or butch cassidy who knows! but yeah that’s all i have to say about this, sorry it took so long btw!!

[ephemeral-afterlight]

Mourning at Midnight

(UwU so Hey. i’m back with some more trash)

Word Count: 7480

Summary: It’s scary, in a way, how in moments like this one, Logan feels as if his consciousness floats away from him, leaving behind only a wave of white-hot, searing anger that drains out of him just as quickly as it comes. There’s sleet running through his veins, and his brain has frostbite, and his fingertips are numb in the face of the ringing resonance after his outburst. The pain comes next, a simmering heat blistering below his fist until it’s coated and red and the beginnings of a bruise are starting to form. He can’t help but stare helplessly in front of himself, eyes burning and filling and blazing with how much they beg to close.

He doesn’t want to look up, to face the suffocating silence that’s fallen over the room. He doesn’t want to see their faces, their disappointment, their anger, their contempt. He wants to yell. He wants to sleep.

Logan sinks out.

Warnings (could potentially be small spoilers, nothing too big, but if you don’t have any triggers I’d suggest you skip reading this!):

There are no u!sides in this, nor does anyone have malicious intent, but the other main three (Virgil, Patton, Roman) and Thomas, to a lesser extent, treat Logan unkindly (not on purpose) and don’t realize their errors. This will be resolved! Just… not yet OwO

Being ignored/talked over

Mental/emotional breakdown

An unidentified illness with symptoms including: [extreme persistent nausea (lots of mentions), vomiting (once), bile, weakness/weariness, shaking, lightheadedness, double vision (once), headache, body aches/pains, breathing difficulties]

General negativity including: [self-doubt, self-deprecation/depreciation, feeling worthless or unloveable, self-hatred]

Anger management/temperament issues

Unintentional self-harm (not anything like c-tting, Logan gets a bruise as a result of an angry outburst)

Separate small, vague allusion to self-harm, but it’s not outright and not detailed in the slightest. Could be read as not even talking about self-harm

Potentially triggering descriptive imagery (metaphors and similes to describe how a character feels or percieves a situation, not anything that actually happens) including but not limited to: [glass, sharp things, blood, injection, live wires, loud noises, screaming, general mentions of pain, masochism, sound torture, knives/blades, wounds, drowning/suffocating, pressure]

Temporarily unresolved tension between Logan/Deceit/Remus and the other sides/Thomas (there will be a happy ending in the next fic, though, don’t worry!)

A few vulgar threats of violence (somewhat explicit, be careful) to the other sides from Remus (out of protectiveness; Remus means well but he does Not express it in a healthy way) that is not carried out or even humoured

Remus’ morning star and descriptions of its destructive capabilites

Loceit as a romantic pairing (for now…. UwU)

Sympathetic “dark” sides

That should be it for warnings! Let me know if I need to add anything!

A/N: So! This is finally done :D !! I’ve been working on it on and off for the past week or so, and although I know it could be way better, I think this is where I’ll keep it! This is technically a sequel to my other fic Tea at Twilight and it takes place in the same universe, and although you don’t need to read that before this to understand the story, I strongly suggest reading that first to get more of a feel for the dynamic! 

This is inspired by @illogicallyinclined and her absolutely amazing Disaster Trio™ headcanons/au, and was prompted by this post so I just started writing! I meant for it to be a bit shorter, but of course my brain would Not let it go, even despite my ADHD, executive dysfunction, and massive amounts of writer’s block. 

This is also unfinished! It is the second of three main works, all happening chronologically in the same universe. The first one is Tea at Twilight as stated previously, then this one, and there will be a third and final installment added to finish off this short little trilogy! I’ll be adding this to the series on AO3, so when the final fic is up, it’ll all be together for an easy reading experience. It is also possible that there will be other small fics in this universe (UA, as has been recently coined) that operate outside of the timeline of the main story, so be sure to watch out for that! 

Thanks to Jay once again for creating these lovely headcanons that haunt my dreams every night, and for inspiring me to get back into my writing groove despite a writer’s block that’s lasted for over three years! Hope this isn’t too terrible, Jay! ilyy <333</p>

Also, a huge thank you to @illogical-anxieties for being such a good cheerleader/enabler! You really do help to keep me motivated and on track (and keep my ADHD in check), which is probably why this was even able to become a full-fledged story rather than a WIP to be buried where unfinished fics go to die T~T Love you tons <3</p>

(If I’m being honest with myself, this is just an excuse for me to live up to my IRL title of “Living Thesaurus”, coined by a friend many years ago and has since spread around to other friends and family. My title is thriving, and I suppose that means I should actually have proof of it, so there’s that.)

(Cross-posted to AO3)

(Read Part 1 here)

He can feel it building.

There’s far too much left to be desired when it comes to frustration. The natural helplessness that makes way for anger when you try so hard to do something or be something for someone and you’re pushed down by anything and everything between ignorance and antipathy. The fear that nothing you can do or say will ever be good enough. The buzzing, ticking, pinpricks upon pinpricks of heat injected into you until your blood and heart have been replaced with glass, fragile as a crumbling stone wall. It’s not as if he hasn’t had his outbursts before, spurred on by the familiar sharp pulse of rage that courses through him in a split-second whirlwind. It builds inside him, and he can feel the pressure in his limbs expand until it feels like his muscles are being squeezed out of existence and then he snaps like a rubber band that’s been pulled too taut. He’s not in denial of the fact that his impulsive, blinding reaction when met with frustration is not okay, and only detrimental to the demeanour he’s trying to retain. He knows it’s childish. He knows it’s immature, and pathetic, and wholly invigorating, at least until the adrenaline has worn off and he’s in the aftermath of his knee-jerk reaction to the tension coiled in his arms and legs and head.

It doesn’t mean that Logan is particularly in control of it though, despite his self-awareness being far above the level that most people with anger management issues are at. Maybe there’s a certain quality to it that allows for growth; it’s not as if Logan stays angry, or that he wants to hurt people. He loves the others, painfully so (as much as he loathes to admit it), to the point where he’s so desperate for their approval that he tampers down his passion, that spark that used to drive him to learn and speak and be happy just to avoid being cast out and abandoned, alone in the way he never wants to be. He wants to find a way to temper the fall into those dark, consuming waters, a way to mute the buzzing and ticking. He wants to seal those exposed live wires and release the tension to the point where he never lashes out ever again. He wants to, and he doesn’t know how to, and that fact infuriates him in an ironic, endless cycle of self-imposed and self-directed enmity.

Logan still thinks on this often, even now, wracking his brain for solutions to problems that realistically won’t be solved as easily as he wishes they would. Excerpts and quotes and data and statistics from many different studies about anger and temper management and irritability and everything in between seem to figuratively run amok through his brain, a screaming crowd of witnesses to the chaos and failure found in his ability to filter through the nonsense and come to a satisfying conclusion, any conclusion at all. He notices how his fingers tremble as they slip into the handle of his coffee mug, endures the dull ache in his mid-to-lower back from falling asleep at his desk for the majority of the day under the guise of work so important he holed himself up in his room to complete it. He ignores the way his head pounds, how he feels so dizzy that he might fall over and pass out any second from lightheadedness. He suffers through the loud conversations between the other three that are typical to the dinner routine that Logan cannot deal with today, not with this headache poking at him like figurative needles in his head.

When he senses the summons from Thomas stirring up the familiar but nonetheless odd ticklish sensation on the back of his neck, Logan can feel the tension knot up his muscles, and the combination of the two just makes him want to growl in irritation. The others, having also felt the summoning, seem to get impossibly louder, ringing and stinging and singing in his head. He still persists, despite the fact that he knows he shouldn’t be out doing anything today that’s likely to exacerbate his sickness, because Thomas is important, more so than Logan himself. No matter how much he wants to hole himself up in his room and sleep the day away, his host needs him, so Logan simply forces his mask of indifference to melt into steel. He refuses to budge, not for the first or last time, and he rises up in the real world standing straight and rigid and as put together as he’s always expected to be.

When he’s finally settled into his usual spot, as still as he can possibly be to not exacerbate the roiling nausea disquieting his stomach, he’s able to take in the other four arranged in their usual positions in Thomas’ living room, already having begun a conversation that Logan has missed the premise of entirely through his all-eclipsing, obfuscating malady. His vision doubles, like broken fractals of glass reflecting onto themselves, and then it pulls back together, merging back into something visible, something manageable.

“Well, I’m sure Danny likes you, too! You just gotta ask him, kiddo!” Patton exclaims, high voice pushing through the heavy, suffocating cotton in Logan’s ears, and the words snap the bespectacled side to attention. He needs context, needs to know what they’re talking about, needs to be able to help for once. Maybe he has to endure the bad to be able to put out the good, and this is where the climax is, the top of the rollercoaster at such a high altitude that oxygen is thin and dispersed before he shoots down the tracks in a rush of fresh air, relieving and calm and sanguine as he’s finally able to ground himself. A shiver runs through Logan’s body, between his shoulder blades and down his hip and through his leg, and his eyes flutter under the weight of consciousness. It recedes, the flow is ebbed, and his head clears to a more sustainable level.

“Oh, that’s so boring, Padre! Thomas should hire a band to play! And we can rig up streamers and confetti and there can be a cake and dancing and a party to celebrate!” Roman crows, throwing his arms and hands up into his signature pose to match his full, booming tone. Patton squeals, clutching his cardigan in his hands to pull excitedly at the sleeves as he bounces giddily on his feet. At the suggestion, as the polar opposite to Patton’s reaction, Virgil grimaces, hunching over even further in his jacket as he protests with every way he can think of that the situation could go wrong. Unsurprisingly, Roman takes personal offense to it and refutes Virgil’s points with the same intensity and fervour that’s been present in himself and his interactions with the anxious side since day one. Logan sort of understands, can infer that they’re discussing how to ask out Danny, a new friend of Thomas’ who has very quickly turned into a crush. In that case…

“If I may interrupt? While I don’t share all of Virgil’s worries, I do agree with his position in regards to the fact that there isn’t a need for such extravagance. It might embarrass Danny, for one, and for two, there are many ways such an excessive venture could backfire, such as technical difficulties or general human error. The idea is, while exciting, frankly outrageous,” Logan says, his role as the voice of reason renewed once more. It’s his job to sift through the conversations they have and get to the important parts, and he likes his job. He’s good at micromanaging, mediating the chaos, good at storing information to sort and consider and veto and bolster. It’s how he operates, how he copes. “We can think of something else to–”

“Oh, shut it, Pocket Protector. We all know you don’t care about romance, but this is important! Thomas wishes to find love with the second most handsome prince in the world! After me, of course,” Roman exclaims, in that boisterous, self-aggrandizing way of his, the way that hides his real insecurities he buries so deeply in himself he doesn’t know how to find them again. Oddly enough, it’s not Roman’s defense mechanism that throws Logan off, it’s the way that Logan stopped talking almost reflexively to allow the other side to finish his statement, as if the prince’s words were more important than his own, and it speaks as testament to how much Logan’s been conditioned (or maybe he’s conditioned himself all on his own) into putting everyone else before himself, even when it hurts him or Thomas. Logan is ignored in the face of his implicit trust, and he hates that even as it pours salt in the open wound, he finds himself taking a depraved, spiteful comfort in the familiarity of it all.

“That’s not what I–”

“Awe, c'mon, Logan! Thomas deserves to have a happy relationship and someone he can live out the rest of his life with! Doesn’t that sound nice, to grow old together with someone you love? Isn’t that romantic? Oh, it just makes me so warm and fuzzy thinking about it!” Patton interrupts, hands clutching each other over his heart as he swoons. Logan knows Patton doesn’t mean to be rude, but he still can’t help but be a little hurt by it, especially since he’s now been ignored twice consecutively. He’s just trying to help, and if that means reigning in Roman’s exorbitant ideas that border on egregious at times, then Logan knows it must be done. Although he encourages Thomas to seek a relationship to improve his mental health and provide more financial stability, there is a limit to how much he can disregard himself and others in doing so, and that doesn’t mean that Logan is the bad guy for pointing that out. He knows that. He knows that, so why does the dismissal still feel so sharp in his chest?

“Yeah, romance is cool and all, but what if it doesn’t work? What if Danny actually hates us? What if we ask and he laughs at us or says no and then we’ll be standing there like an idiot and then he’ll never wanna talk to us again because he thinks we’re pathetic and stupid and–”

“Hey, now, don’t be such a Debby Downer, kiddo! I’m sure it’ll go just fine! We’ll just ask him. The worst thing that can happen is he’ll say no, right? Shouldn’t we give it a shot?” Patton consoles before Virgil can go into a spiral. Although his well-meaning reassurances are meant to be comforting, his voice just grates on Logan’s ears, tinny and hollow and misdirected.

“That’s what I’m afraid of!”

Logan wants to keep listening, he really does, but the noise is rising to levels where it’s too much to handle. He’s already sensitive from his illness, but the discussion that is very quickly turning into an argument falls in pulses through his head, sound torture to the broken, hopeless masochist. He’s barely holding onto himself at this point, consciousness like a dangling thread that swirls and dances and twirls with even the tiniest breeze, a hint of movement sending it shivering and quivering as it spins. It wouldn’t take much for the thread to fray from the weight pulling it down, or to saw through it in a clean slice that leaves it floating feather-light upon air currents, petals spiraling to the ground.

Petals. Flowers. Thomas could bring Danny flowers! It’s perfect! Danny is especially predisposed to gardening, and he frequently talks about different flowers and what they mean based on the type and colour. His interest in botany could make this a sweet gift, to show that Thomas pays attention to what Danny enjoys, and can be the perfect segue into asking him on a romantic outing. Yes, this could work! It would appease Roman’s inclination to classic romanticism while still being practical and not unreasonably expensive, give Patton his ideal relationship fantasy (and a “warm and fuzzy feeling”, apparently), and allow Virgil a little more breathing room, so-to-speak. This is something they all should be agreeable towards, and that confidence is enough to supply Logan with enough energy to push past his lightheadedness and offer a solution. He’s proud of himself for taking the others’ feelings into account, something he knows he’s not always been the most proficient at, and for coming up with a compromise that will likely satisfy everyone’s wants and needs.

“What about bringing him flowers?” Logan asks, pleased and antsy as he feels hope well up in his chest. He doesn’t push it down this time, and he thinks maybe, just maybe they’ll finally listen to him, that they’ll tell him that he did well, that he’s being considerate and maybe even say thank you–

“How would you even know, Roman? It’s not like we just go out and hire mariachi bands every Saturday!” Virgil says with furrowed brows, and Roman huffs in indignation, and Patton sighs as he looks between the two of them, and Logan’s words fall on deaf ears. They didn’t even hear. They didn’t listen. They didn’t care they didn’t care–

“Uh, hey, Virgil, what if–” Logan tries once more to speak, nausea rolling angrily in his gut, head spinning dizzy round and round and round and round and Virgil flinches.

He flinches. Because of Logan.

Virgil hasn’t been afraid of any of them for a long time. Sure, in the beginning, when they fought one another on nearly a day-to-day basis, there would be a moment before he could pull on his figurative mask that a flash of fear would go through Virgil’s eyes, and the sadness kept within wouldn’t subside even when he growled and snapped and blustered whichever side had the misfortune of picking a fight with him during a time where his first instinct was to keep away the pain and longing and loneliness the only way he knew how. Over time, that flash of fear dulled, morphed into something more manageable, more trusting. The sadness never really went away, but it was met with warmth, a soft contentedness that danced in his eyes when he realized he had a family to turn to. He hasn’t been afraid for a long time. And yet, he flinches away from Logan, just from him speaking.

Is he really that bad?

Does even simply the sound of his voice have such a negative association for Virgil that it prompts genuine fear and discomfort? Has he really scared Virgil that much? What did he do? How can he fix this?

Maybe he shouldn’t.

Logan’s felt disconnected from the others for quite a while now. He loves them, of course he does, but he doesn’t feel like he fits. He’s the metaphorical jagged puzzle piece, the one that should snap into the final vacant space but is so broken beyond repair that it doesn’t fit quite right. He wants to belong, to feel at home whenever he’s with them, but he doesn’t. He yearns for the acceptance that Virgil earned, the support that Roman is held up by, the respect and adoration Patton seems to acquire so casually and naturally that it’s like he doesn’t even have to try. Logan wants to be like them. He wants to be loved, but… that isn’t really his place, is it?

Love is not an inherent thing. It’s something that’s earned, by doing good things and being important enough to someone that they give it freely. It’s something Logan doesn’t understand, but despite that, still desperately, painfully yearns for. He wants to be loved, the way he loves the others. He wants to be a part of their famILY, to have that implicit trust in each other that only comes from acute, profound, deep-seated love. He wants that fondness directed towards himself, that devotion borne from hapless, radiating appreciation. The humbled esteem, the maudlin, theatrical longing, the passion and yearning and helpless, acquiescent love that bursts from the seams in a manner that will never diminish or fade. He wants that. Badly. And he’s finally ready to accept that he will never have it. He’s okay. He’s okay. He just needs a moment. He just needs to breathe.

The others must have continued with their arguments long ago, seemingly unaware of anything outside of themselves. Logan supposes he shouldn’t really berate them for that since he often falls victim to getting lost in debate as well, but something is wrong with Thomas, going by his expression and demeanour and the logical side can’t ignore it anymore. It’s highly unlikely that the other three will come away from themselves for long enough to notice, and it doesn’t sound like they’re anywhere close to coming to a conclusion amongst themselves, so Logan is perfectly fine with bearing that responsibility upon himself to check up on his host and make sure he’s okay. He’s the most important one here, after all, and it’s Logan’s job to help him, guide him in his life and decisions.

“Thomas? Is there something wrong?” Although the words come out clear and precise as usual, Logan’s throat burns, and he can barely breathe. He wants to sleep, he wants to sleep, but Thomas needs him, and that doesn’t happen often nowadays, so Logan does nothing but wait impassively. His host bites the inside of his cheek, then sighs as he stares off at the wall, lost in thought. Since he says nothing, the logical side assumes he will continue to say nothing for a few more moments, and decides to give him a once-over to gather more information and any possible context. Thomas’ eyebrows are furrowed, and his posture far from adequate. His expression is troubled, and his arms are crossed loosely, a pointer finger scratching at his elbow unconsciously. There is no obvious cause for his confusion and/or upset in himself or anywhere in the room, apart from the current dilemma, but he was fine before, so something must have changed to distress him now. Logan cannot ascertain what Thomas needs simply from observing him, so he concludes that the best thing for him to do is wait.

So he does. And he does so for a minute, two, five. Every second that ticks by feels like a needle is being shoved into his eyes, his brain, his legs, his everything and it takes more effort to stand than he’s used to. Breathing is difficult, but that isn’t exactly a new development, so at least he knows how to ignore it. Eventually, ten minutes pass with only the sound of the other three arguing in the background, and it doesn’t seem like Thomas is really all there. Although the action makes him want to throw up, Logan shifts forward, moving out of his usual spot and into Thomas’ own. He still doesn’t acknowledge any kind of input outside himself, so Logan lays a hand on his host’s arm gently, which snaps him out of his trance in a slow, unhurried kind of way. Thomas gives him a glance when his logical side sighs, tampering down any audible signs of his nausea in a manner that is unbeknownst to the host, but returns to staring at the wall without a second regard.

“Thomas?” Logan murmurs, bile rising in his throat and shoving his hidden suffering even closer to the forefront of his mind, as though it hasn’t been there all along. It’s hard to think, through all of the white noise and weary irritation and the tiniest sliver of hope that he crushes immediately, but thinking is his job, and he needs to help. “Are you alright? You can talk to me.”

And then Thomas is shrugging him off, turning away as he tells him he should “just stop” with piercing words, that he “can’t do anything to help”, and the rejection feels like a metaphorical knife has been shoved into his gut. Logan can feel the pain and the heartbreak and the insecurity materialize into a cold blade, twisting and twisting just to make him hurt more. Logan is ignored for the fourth time today, by the person it hurts to come from the most, and he can feel the sun whipping and screaming in his chest. His breath is stuck, sucked down into his throat, a sharp pain localizing in his neck, and he can’t help but bring his hand up to rub at the spot with trembling fingertips as he unsteadily lurches back to his regular spot. The others don’t notice, of course, or if they did, they don’t care. Then the nausea he’s been fighting against surges like a violent wave at full force, drowning him and the hurt is forcing its way into his mouth, his throat, his lungs, and he can’t breathe–

His fist flashes down from his neck to the banister, punching the railing so hard it echoes in the reverberation created from his vicious, angry snarl.

It’s scary, in a way, how in moments like this one, Logan feels as if his consciousness floats away from him, leaving behind only a wave of white-hot, searing anger that drains out of him just as quickly as it comes. There’s sleet running through his veins, and his brain has frostbite, and his fingertips are numb in the face of the ringing resonance after his outburst. The pain comes next, a simmering heat blistering below his fist until it’s coated and red and the beginnings of a bruise are starting to form. He can’t help but stare helplessly in front of himself, eyes burning and filling and blazing with how much they beg to close.

He doesn’t want to look up, to face the suffocating silence that’s fallen over the room. He doesn’t want to see their faces, their disappointment, their anger, their contempt. He wants to yell. He wants to sleep.

Logan sinks out.

There’s a very short window of time where the logical side rushes into the en-suite bathroom after rising up in his bedroom, trembling legs aching with exhaustion. Barely a second passes between him falling to the floor and emptying the meager contents of his stomach into the toilet, the bile burning in his tender throat as a reminder of his failure. The floor is cold and hard beneath him, ridges of tiles pressing unrelenting into his knees through his wrinkled jeans. His head spins, unbalanced as it whirls through itself, words and thoughts and ideas that mean nothing and everything simultaneously existing hollowly in a falling echo. There is pain, and aching, and soreness, and exhaustion, and Logan wants to sleep.

It’s hard to rise to his feet, head throbbing and knees shaking as he wipes the spit from his mouth on a folded square of toilet paper. The pain nags at him, persistent and irritating in its attempts to shut Logan out, almost clear in a way that belies the foggy haze blanketing his nearly incoherent thought process. Marking a clear vantage, a faultline to anchor onto is no easy task, and all Logan wants as he stumbles over to his bed is a landmark to pinpoint and find his way back to. He careens toward the mattress once he’s close enough, finally letting his legs give out underneath him when he’s as near as he can bear. It’s so difficult to stay upright in stiff misery, pangs and twinges of sharp pain coursing through his limbs and his back as his muscles are forced together under pressure.

In another familiar, frustrating bout of anger that seizes his breath before it can escape his lungs, Logan shoves his fingers in the knot of his tie, yanking it forcefully even as the motion jerks his own head forward uncomfortably along with it. His fingers run down the length of the fabric, and it falls apart at the end of its cycle, much like Logan has, and he snaps his arm back to chuck the dark blue, silky length to the ground in a motion that does little to relieve the rage built up inside him.

He can feel it building. The buzzing, the pressure, the glass in his veins running on shards. He feels the pinpricks upon pinpricks, the fire burning in his lungs, and the stone crumbles, and tumbles down, and he’s like a rubber band pulled taut.

He cracks, shrill pressure in his knuckles and head and torso, and nothing happens.

Then Logan hears the telltale squeak of his door swiveling on mildly rusty hinges, and a familiar voice echoes right through his bubble, shatters the stone wall like a bulldozer running at full speed, and then the wetness spills over his lashes and over his stony, impassive face.

“Oh, Lo,” Deceit murmurs, sad and tender as the breath rushes out of him and Logan can’t do this. He wants to throw out his fist in a wide arc and pummel the wall next to him until his knuckles are raw and bloodied and bruised beyond repair. He wants to scream until his throat is torn and his voice is gone, lost in the uncaring, empty void that coldly swallowed up his passion. Happiness has never seemed further away, and he knows he deserves it. But then he remembers all of the times where the pressure in his limbs and the buzzing in his brain forced him to lash out, to hurt others, and he thinks that maybe it’s okay for him to hurt right now to even the score. With the last of the metaphorical wall around him in tiny pieces, fragments of a life he never wanted to live but he desperately fought to keep, he lets his guard down for the first time in years.

Logan’s face crumples under the weight he’s burdened his being with, body immediately drooping under the heaviness that he’s forced himself to fight through. He finally submits, and the tears come in an endless stream over his cheekbones, itchy and hot and terribly, mindlessly relieving. It feels so good to finally let the negative emotion he’s pent up inside him out, to fall out of his cage he’s lived in high above a swirling ocean of release and fear and freedom. And he’s so, so lucky because he has someone to save him from the fall.

Deceit’s kneeled down in front of him, wiping away the tears as they fall with uncharacteristically degloved thumbs, and Logan can feel the smoothness of the scales twisting and trailing down his fingers. Every so often, Deceit’s pointed thumbnails catch lightly on the skin of Logan’s cheek, and it just causes him to cry harder. The vulnerability in the room is palpable, a wispy breath of worry and insecurity and trust trailing over their skin, blanketing the room in a warmth that runs even warmer when Logan reaches up to gently lay his hand over Deceit’s own. He shows his appreciation through tactility when the words he so desperately wishes to say are lost in his throat, blocked by the barrier that separates his newfound submission and the part of him that’s still clinging to the feeble grasp at acceptance he craves so dearly.

Logan can barely tell what’s in front of him through the kaleidoscope in his vision, but he doesn’t really need to see to throw himself forward off the bed and bury himself in Deceit’s chest, of whom lets out a surprised noise but doesn’t hesitate a single second in wrapping his arms tightly around the other side. He strokes Logan’s back comfortingly and offers him whispered reassurances through the heart-wrenching sobs and broken, croaky whines that disappear into his cloak, hand coming up to cradle his head in the overwhelming reflexive instinct to keep the logical side safe and happy. It feels like a dagger has gone through Deceit’s chest at the knowledge that Logan has been suffering for so long and hasn’t been able to let it out or just simply be held, the self-preservation that is at the core of his function as a side going off like alarm bells with every sniffle. Logan curls into the first person who’s ever offered him physical affection and emotional safety, and his fists clench the fabric at the snake-like side’s shoulders as tightly as he would if he were to never, ever let go.

Logan is out of breath even as his heart begins to calm, beating and beating in his ribcage and in his lungs. The lump in his throat prevents him from speaking, but he figures it’s okay to not be heard audibly, just this once, and speak with his actions. Although he doesn’t know what he’s saying when he pulls back and wraps his arms around Deceit’s neck, laying his face in the crook of other side’s neck like a small child would, not really, he hopes that his intent still comes across in some sort of intelligible, hopeful way. Deceit seems to take this as a request, a promise, and slides his grip to a point where he can hoist the smaller side up in his hold, carrying him just like a parent carrying their kid to their bed after they fell asleep during a visit to a friend’s house. This situation is much more loaded, stained with impurities and unsure withering, but it’s just as raw, just as real, and Logan finds himself feeling safer than he ever has before.

At some point, they end up on the bed, Logan having been manhandled into a more comfortable position for both of them, which is laying across Deceit’s lap without ever having let go of his neck. The logical side feels small and vulnerable, something that he would normally hate, squash down, bury so deep within himself that he doesn’t even have to acknowledge it. But honestly, right here, right now, he’s so goddamn exhausted, and forcing himself back into the state of repression he’s been in for so much of his life would take too much of a toll, more than he already has on himself. The wetness rolls down his cheeks, bold, blue precipitation falling in droplets onto his skin and the fabric of Deceit’s cape, sinking and spreading and thinning out into airy nothingness. And the nothingness enraptures him, pulls him in even as he breaks and whimpers and spills wisps of forgotten feelings into empty space, at least until his bedroom door opens once more with a loud click, because nothing Remus ever does is truly quiet.

“Hey, are you guys having a sexy party without me? How c–… are you… crying?” Remus asks, suggestive tone split and watered down into something confused, and surprised, and angry. The younger twin kicks the door shut behind him with his foot, more out of muscle memory than conscious forethought, something that stands with nearly every action Remus executes. Logan turns his head wearily, not lifting it from where it rests on Deceit’s collarbone. The latter of the two takes that chance to clear away some of the tears that didn’t get absorbed into his clothing, hoping that since the stream is slowly dispersing, his cheeks will stay dry this time. Remus slowly approaches, body tense and eyes piercing as Logan’s face is wiped off for the nth time, offering no other sounds or words as he crouches down to examine how the bespectacled side’s skin is rubbed red and sensitive.

Logan just whines softly, stare falling to the bedsheets, observing nothing in particular as he tries to figure out why words are failing him. Something that’s such an intricate part of himself, the communication of thoughts and ideas and knowledge that defines so much of who he is and how he exists, it’s dwindled and diminished into nothing. Deceit seems to understand, he always does, and reads him so perfectly it’s a wonder the two didn’t become closer in the beginning, with how much they truly are alike. A scaled hand makes it’s way up to Logan’s head and cards through the soft, disheveled hair there, scratching lightly at his scalp in a motion that seems to draw the aching tension caused by his distress out of his body, leaving his muscles to relax and melt into the chest that holds him upright.

“Something happened before I came in here. I assume it has to do with the others,” Deceit murmurs into thick, heavy air, stale with shame and tired hopelessness. Remus’ eyes flick to Logan’s own, actively searching for some sort of confirmation or denial. There’s a beat of silence, and Logan’s eyes flutter in a fatigued attempt to stay awake, and the nausea creeps its way into his stomach once again like a predator stalking its prey. Deceit repositions himself quietly, pulling the smaller side impossibly closer, as if he knows that he’ll need the added comfort. With his body squished into a protective embrace, and his tie laying flat on the floor below, forgotten and scorned for what it represents, Logan swallows hard around the sharp block in his neck and nods through his nonverbal affliction.

At the minimal admission, something in Remus’ eyes darkens, bathing the bright craze that typically resides there in something hateful, and vicious, and dripping with chemical absolution. He shifts away, rolls onto his haunches in a way that doesn’t read as entirely intentional, as though he’s been physically forced back with the weight of the confession. There’s so much there, in the way his breath comes out shallow and gravelly and low like a beast biting and snapping at the bars that contain it, fighting against the cage it’s locked inside. Nostrils flare, and jaw sets, and fists clench white as bone, and Remus straightens up to his full height, intimidating and looming and dangerous.

“Who?” he spits, venom coursing through the single word in molten streams. It’s a protective fire, serious in a way Remus rarely is, and the storm in his eyes and aura only becomes more turbulent and intense and solid as he reaches behind himself to slowly seize his morning star from where he keeps it at the ready. Pulling it to the front of him is an unexpectedly slow event, yet still ferocious in its quiet, cold fervour. The silver weapon swings in a steady arc around the side of Remus’ body, catching the dim light in a threatening glint, the gleam alluding to its deadliness in a way that’s almost unexplainable. The spiked mace finally comes to its resting point, hovering in the air just beside the fierce side’s leg, unassuming and ready to drive its way into an unlucky antagonist’s skull.

“I’ll cut their fucking throats. I’ll rip off every single limb from their bodies until they’re nothing but a pile of flesh and blood. They’re gonna pay for this,” Remus snarls, each threat bathed in acrimony and malice and choked by fury ripping through the tempest. Logan stares through misty eyes, half-lidded and concerned but too out of it to muster much of a coherent thought. Thankfully, Deceit is still there, soft and warm and well-equipped to deal with Remus and his behaviour. The snake-like side sighs, reaching out to just barely snatch up a frilly black sleeve, tugging him closer and meeting surprisingly little resistance despite the rigidity of the tallest side’s posture. Each breath from Remus comes out like a bullet, brisk and arduous and punctuated by a pang of impermeable guilt.

Even as Deceit motions Remus to lower himself onto the bed in front of them, the latter of the two is still apprehensive, terse movements and restless eyes that flit between anything and everything they can to avoid stagnation. It’s almost fearful, in a way, primal in its aptitude to think, and cultivate, and vindicate a wrongdoing that was never his fault or responsibility in the first place. Logan hates that they need to save him, hates that he doesn’t truly believe they actually care. There’s a level of certainty with himself and with others that the logical side hasn’t reached yet, and it feels too close and yet too far, kept obscure and secluded and almost clandestine in the way it’s ostensibly unreachable.

With the help of Deceit’s hand to guide his way, Remus slowly lets go of his morning star, tossing it to the side with a pensive, trembling swallow. It clatters to the ground, metallic clang resounding in vibrations, tilde-shaped waves that bounce off the façade and yell out to one another. Muted shrieks upon perfect, flat, neutral paint, sepulchral oscillations attacking the drywall.

“You can’t hurt them. I know you’re angry. I am too. But hurting them won’t solve anything, Rem, you know that more than anyone,” Deceit says meaningfully, smiling in a way that’s sad and distant but caring and compelling and relaxing for the tension wrapped so tightly around the three of them. The snake-like side lifts the hand that’s not in Logan’s hair and reaches out to grab Remus’ own, firmly but gently as he squeezes his fingers in a way that reassures, and consoles, and reprimands, not unkindly. He admonishes, and breaks that anger and frustration, and builds up positivity and alleviation and reprieve from everything that allows that buzzing, ticking, those pinpricks upon pinpricks. His care and concern washes over you, paternal in a different way than Patton operates, and it’s why Deceit is so comforting to be around. He manages a respite from vexation, a refuge in sanctuary, discreet freedom for the flawed, defeated dreamer.

“I’m mad. I’m mad that they hurt you, Lo-Lo. I want them to feel the pain you’re feeling,” Remus mutters, frigid and defeated, head bowed and gaze distant in that transparent manner of his that easily broadcasts all of his thoughts and feelings and wishes. Logan feels the pride welling up in his chest without even realizing it, quietly delighted at the progress Remus has made in being clear and forthcoming with his emotions and impulsivity. A weary grin makes its way onto his face, predictably aggravating the soreness in his cheeks, yet he finds himself indifferent to it, unperturbed by the plight that’s ravaged his body for the day, and probably longer without his notice. He wants to reassure the younger twin, to smile and laugh and brush all of it off, but his eyelids droop, and a pathetic mewl is the only thing able to escape his lungs. Of course, since there’s something Logan wants to say, Deceit somehow knows how to communicate it, just as prompt and courteous and perceptive as always.

“We can talk about this later after Logan has slept. Don’t worry too much, Rem, and don’t do anything stupid. If you get angry again, please go to your paints instead of your legs,” Deceit instructs, more of a suggestion than a demand, but he hopes Remus will listen and be mindful anyway. The latter of the two bounces his leg anxiously, grumbling unintelligibly under his breath as he stands up in one swift, fluid motion. As Remus makes his way over to exit the room, Logan nudges Deceit’s hand with his head gently, trying to bring his attention back to the massaging motion that ceased sometime during the conversation. The snake-like side’s eyes flick downward to meet the smaller side’s own half-lidded, teetering gaze, and he huffs a laugh after a moment of searching. Logan doesn’t know what he finds, but he realizes that he doesn’t really care that much about worrying over every little interaction anymore.

Remus finally turns and glances back as he swings the door open, brows still furrowed and shoulders still hunched, but simply shakes his head and leaves. The door closes much softer than before, thankfully, so as not to be too harsh on Logan’s migraine, an unusually conscientious thought from someone that rarely shows consideration to the needs of others that the logical side appreciates that much more. As the sound of Remus’ footsteps slowly fade with his retreat down the hallway, the two of them left are bathed in silence, one that is marginally less heavy and thick than before.

A small while passes afterward, only punctuated by soft breathing and light scratching noises from nails trailing through messy hair. Logan feels like he might pass out any minute, what with the comfortable, quiet understanding the two have come to rest at, but some part of him says to wait, to push through the mind-numbing exhaustion for just a little while longer. That part of him is probably just being considerate toward Deceit, who Logan can’t imagine would be very comfortable with another side falling asleep on him and laying on him for an extended period of time, but he figures that it’s a good of a reason as any. It’s not about him feeling like a burden. It’s not.

Eventually, Deceit must start to get tired as well, or maybe he’s sore from Logan’s weight on his legs, so he sits forward, apologizing quietly for disturbing the peace, and he moves them into a more comfortable position. The new arrangement is far more snug and cozy than the previous one, Logan thinks drowsily, as his head hits the pillow across from Deceit. They lay there on top of the blankets but make no move to pull them up, just content to stare lazily at one another in the dim, ambient light cast by the desk lamp in the opposite corner of the room.

“Why?” Logan finally asks, and although he loathes disrupting the silence, he needs to ask. The words are scratchy in his tender throat, a charcoal whisper on a steel canvas that scratches and sketches away with nothing viable left to keep through the wind that blows the dark dust off the surface. “Why are you helping me? Why do you care?”

Deceit just hums, sending Logan a weak, distracted smile. He mulls over the words, tossing about the meaning and possibilities in his head and on his silver tongue, rushing in an uncertain river through valleys of golden sand.

“I am self-preservation at its core. I exist to keep Thomas safe and healthy and thriving, and that also means you and the other sides by extension. But… it’s not just that. Even though I feel physical pain whenever one of you or Thomas is hurt, I specifically want to help you because… I care about you, Logan. I love you, and want to see you healthy and happy. I haven’t really been doing a good job of that lately,” Deceit mutters, gaze somewhere on their shared pillow, and there’s a quality to his tone that’s bitter beyond the line of frustration. Although Deceit doesn’t expand on it, doesn’t offer up a single clarification despite the heavy air and his resigned demeanour, Logan gets it. He understands, and he wants to prove him wrong.

So he does.

And that comes in the form of surging forward, fighting against the current, the pinpricks in his stomach and shoulders and abdomen, disregarding the exhaustion for just a little while longer so that he can let Deceit’s lips meet his own. Logan’s so close he can feel the shocked rush of air leave Deceit’s nose, feel the vibrations through the air as his body trembles in fear and anticipation and relief. The other side eases in, sinks closer, closer, and finally moves his lips in a careful, emotional dance that leaves Logan dizzy and breathless, for entirely different reasons that have plagued him for the past day.

“Lo,” Deceit breathes, low, wanting, and he pulls back to give Logan a chance to catch up. A scaled hand comes up to caress the logical side’s cheek, a soothing, cool balm for the raw skin beginning to heal there. “I didn’t… I didn’t think…”

“I love you,” Logan breathes, the words he’s refused to say, to acknowledge, to confront welling up through his throat and for the first time, he lets them spill out. The dam has broken, debris left to descend and submerge in the depths of the sentiment crashing through in a roaring, passionate rapid at the narrowest point yet. The words come, and they don’t stop, and Logan almost can’t believe how right they feel on his tongue. “I love you, I love you, I–I love you so much, Dee.”

Logan is like a rubber band, pulled taut and still and trembling under the pressure. And maybe he’ll split, shoot apart, torn in two pieces that will never fit back together again. But maybe he won’t. Maybe instead of snapping in half, he’ll snap back, and that thought alone gives him a quiet comfort that he’s not used to allowing himself. He’s waiting, hoping, and he’s okay enough for now.

[edenkept]

❛                      NOW    I    KNOW    IT’S    NOT    YOU    ,    but    me    that    i'll    love    a    little    more    .

wish    i    could    use    emojis    to    express    how    i    feel    ,    but    jus    know    that    for    the    entire    day    that    ONE    PART    in    roman    holiday    has    been    playing    in    my    head    on    repeat    &    i    ?    couldn’t    turn    it    off    .    anyway    ,    my    intros    r    usually    super    long    SO    i    tried    to    keep    it    -    how    u    say    -    condensed    this    time    .    but    i’m    so    excited    &    i    am    so    hyped    to    write    w    all    of    u    !  @opalsmedia

LINKS    :    google    doc    /    pinterest     /    spotify    /    tik    tok    compilation

𝑭𝑼𝑵𝑫𝑨𝑴𝑬𝑵𝑻𝑨𝑳𝑺

full  name  :  baek  ye  -  seul

nickname(s)  /  alias(es)  :  eden  park  (  english  name  )

age  /  dob  :  twenty  one  /  march  3  ‘99

hometown  :  seoul  ,  south  korea

current  location  :  guildford  ,  england

ethnicity  :  korean

nationality  :  english  -  south  korean

gender  :  cis  female

pronouns  :  she  /  her

orientation  :  pansexual  ,  grayromantic

religion  :  agnostic  ,  raised  catholic

face  claim  :  jung  chaeyeon

language(s)  spoken  :  korean  ,  mandarin  ,  cantonese  ,  english  ,  some  french

speech  :  english  is  her  first  language  -  seven  years  spent  in  london  before  being  whisked  away  to�� another  world  ,  she’s  still  got  a  hold  on  a  formal  accent  -  though  ,  doesn’t  sound  completely  english  or  american  ,  some  ambiguous  mixture  of  someone  who’s  practiced  the  language  with  someone  who  isn’t  a  complete  expert  .  all  being  said  ,  she’s  enchanting  enough  to  fool  even  the  wisest  into  listening  -  schemes  flinging  from  parted  lips  that  garner  attention  ,  though  often  what  follows  is  informal  &  laced  with  sour  intentions  .

hair  :  naturally  dark  ,  so  dark  its  comparable  to  a  moonless  sky  ,  though  ,  in  the  summer  &  constant  sunlight  it’s  known  to  lighten  (  just  -  barely  )  .  kept  just  past  her  shoulder  blades  ,  her  hair  is  naturally  straight  (  barely  wavy  )  &  not  often  styled  .  healthy  &  thick  ,  requires  little  uptake  at  current  length  ,  so  it’s  common  to  see  it  all  down  -  at  most  ,  will  be  swept  up  into  a  messy  up  -  do  to  be  kept  out  of  her  face  when  doing  something  important  .  entirely  effortless  ,  her  hair  is  often  the  least  of  her  worries  .

eyes  :  quite  the  defining  feature  ,  her  eyes  are  sharp  &  cat  like  .  the  same  color  of  the  earth  after  an  unforgiving  rain  storm  ,  it’s  easy  to  see  past  a  confident  exo  -  skeleton  to  see  the  unresolved  pain  in  her  eyes  .  holders  of  wisdom  &  excitement  ,  there’s  a  lot  of  sadness  that  reside  in  her  hues  -  a  lone  survivor  in  an  unheard  war  ,  she  doesn’t  let  enough  people  close  enough  to  ever  let  them  see  it  .  instead  ,  it’s  more  often  found  to  catch  her  sending  a  glimpse  from  over  the  edge  of  a  book  -  sly  &  clever  .

height  :  five  feet  ,  five  inches

build  :  athletic  ,  with  toned  limbs  &  a  toned  torso  .

tattoos  :  none  .

piercings  :  only  earlobes  .

scars  :  easily  hidden  ,  a  small  two  centimetre  scar  on  the  inside  of  her  right  wrist  ,  just  below  the  fleshy  part  of  her  palm  .  when  asked  ,  the  consistent  story  is  an  accident  when  moving  in  with  her  adopted  parents  -  a  child  throwing  a  tantrum  &  getting  themselves  hurt  .  nobody  knows  the  real  story  ,  she  doesn’t  seem  keen  on  sharing  .

clothing  style  :  academia  aesthetic  ,  she  surrounds  herself  with  like  minded  women  who’ve  the  same  ideals  &  personalities  .  distinguishable  by  their  clothing  ,  carefully  smoothed  high  waisted  a  -  line  skirts  ,  high  turtlenecks  &  long  coats  over  black  tights  .  looks  sophisticated  enough  to  have  a  butler  (  which  ,  she  does  )  but  intellectual  enough  to  debate  her  professor  (  which  ,  she  often  does  )  .

usual  expression  :  like  she  knows  too  much  ,  as  if  she’s  seen  too  much  &  she’ll  use  it  to  her  advantage  .  with  the  constant  curve  of  her  lips  &  the  glint  that’s  always  present  in  her  eyes  ,  she  always  looks  as  if  she’s  about  to  cause  as  much  trouble  .  devil’s  advocate  ,  it  wouldn’t  be  too  far  off  for  her  to  be  minutes  away  from  stirring  the  pot  .

distinguishing  characteristics  :  her  fleeting  laugh  -  it  catches  your  ear  as  she  passes  you  in  the  corridor  ,  always  red  nails  ;  deep  in  color  ,  it  matches  the  shade  of  blood  ,  a  walk  that  demands  attention  -  it  exudes  an  aura  of  importance  ,  cat  like  eyes  that  always  look  like  they’ve  caught  you  doing  something  you  aren’t  supposed  to  be  doing  .

𝑹𝑼𝑴𝑰𝑵𝑨𝑻𝑰𝑶𝑵𝑺

exterior   :  ethereal  ,  she  holds  herself  to  an  impossibly  high  standard  that  everyone  can  see  .  is  it  intentional  ?  the  looks  sent  over  her  shoulders  ,  how  she  parts  the  halls  to  reach  a  friend  -  no  .  a  normal  girl  from  a  normal  world  ,  she’s  sat  in  the  front  of  the  lecture  hall  making  eye  contact  with  the  instructors  ;  the  kind  of  classmate  who  learns  everyone’s  (  everyone’s  )  name  &  collects  numbers  in  a  well  worn  notebook  to  send  out  guides  &  make  friends  .  even  if  you  don’t  know  eden  ,  you  know  of  eden  -  the  life  of  the  party  who  always  arrives  with  glowing  skin  &  a  passionate  argument  to  have  in  the  kitchen  .  elite  ,  the  rumors  of  a  heaven  fallen  girl  wrap  around  her  with  the  moonlight  (  her  journal  left  in  the  library  ,  she’s  god  chosen  )  -  passionate  ,  with  the  fires  of   both  heaven  &  hell  wrapped  in  her  .  almost  normal  (  not  quite  )  ,  the  kind  of  girl  to  greet  everyone  by  name  while  running  through  almost  empty  corridors  -  she  tugs  a  lifetime  of  sorrow  behind  her  ,  hides  it  behind  ambition  &  blind  loyalty  .

interior   :  war  torn  ,  a  victim  of  poison  dipped  claws  &  a  dip  into  the  river  styx  .  her  mind  doesn’t  match  her  body  ,  stuck  in  between  the  pages  of  a  grand  journey  where  she  views  the  world  as  a  story  .  a  punishment  for  early  childhood  ,  penance  has  been  found  in  intricate  metaphors  that  don’t  match  the  sharp  callousness  that  falls  from  her  lips  .  lost  in  a  universe  where  she’s  half  god  ,  half  devil  &  her  enemies  are  heaven  -  bound  ,  she  pushes  it  all  down  to  pass  as  normal  .  a  normal  girl  ,  with  normal  goals  &  normal  roles  .  poetry  in  her  dreams  ,  written  down  on  hidden  yellow  pages  that  aren’t  meant  to  be  seen  by  the  ordinary  .  found  hidden  away  in  locked  boxes  are  journeys  &  important  figures  that  only  her  mind  understands  ;  a  gaping  scar  in  her  life  that  she’ll  never  rid  herself  of  .

𝑪𝑯𝑹𝑶𝑵𝑰𝑪𝑳𝑬

this  is  NOT  gna  be  pretty  i  spent  too  many  brain  cells  on  my  app  .

TRIGGER  WARNINGS  :  abuse  

there’s  an  email  from  doctor  seong  ;  it  reads  of  baek  ye  seul  &  important  things  to  note  before  a  first  session  with  her  .  irreversibly  traumatized  from  early  childhood  captivity  &  abuse  ,  she’s  learned  to  cope  by  transforming  her  life  into  an  intricately  weaved  story  .  each  significant  figure  in  her  life  has  a  title  ,  an  assigned  metaphor  &  character  -  though  ,  outwardly  ,  she’ll  show  no  signs  of  trauma  .  in  fact  ,  the  opposite  -  she  shows  tremendous  progress  in  her  personal  life  ,  easygoing  with  peers  ,  approachable  &  passionate  -  keep  an  eye  on  her  movements  ,  if  anything  internal  ever  goes  external  ,  it’s  a  dangerous  sign  .

a  file  left  open  on  an  agent  prothero’s  office  -  MI6  stamped  &  redacted  but  he  knows  the  story  by  heart  .  poor  eden  ,  left  in  the  hands  of  a  capable  agent  that  chose  a  target  over  her  own  country  .  the  product  of  a  traitor  &  a  criminal  ,  whereabouts  were  unknown  for  the  first  six  years  of  her  life  ;  but  through  extensive  therapy  &  decoding  childish  messages  ,  he’s  learned  enough  to  swear  to  always  keep  an  eye  on  her  .  held  captive  on  a  london  penthouse  ,  had  her  life  threatened  &  well  being  always  held  just  out  of  reach  while  her  mother  &  father  stayed  hidden  .  not  much  else  is  known  ,  no  specifics  ,  just  one  instance  -  she  drowned  ,  almost  ,  she  says  .  held  under  ,  he  can  still  remember  her  asking  what  the  most  peaceful  way  to  die  is  .  he  sends  her  to  partners  in  south  korea  ,  people  who  want  a  daughter  &  promise  to  raise  her  the  best  they  can  .

pour  over  comments  left  on  old  social  media  pages  ,  she’s  a  hit  in  her  new  life  .  sheds  her  english  name  as  quickly  as  she  received  it  &  thrives  overseas  while  growing  into  a  formidable  woman  .  she’s  intelligent  (  reminds  someone  of  a  mother  who  had  it  all  once  )  ,  sharp  &  witty  .  filled  with  enough  passion  to  light  a  palace  ablaze  ,  she  strives  for  greatness  &  settles  for  absolutely  nothing  .  always  equipped  with  a  plan  &  a  way  ,  she  gets  everything  she  wants  (  &  she  always  earns  it  ,  there  isn’t  a  single  unearned  trophy  on  her  shelf  )  .  either  loved  or  despised  ,  she  shines  as  bright  as  stars  that  are  millions  of  light  years away  from  earth  .

in  her  planner  ,  an  acceptance  letter  carefully  pressed  &  laminated  .  someone  told  her  she’d  never  get  in  ,  but  she  sits  on  campus  &  smiles  -  she’s  capable  of  doing  anything  she  wants  .  next  to  the  letter  is  an  unblemished  business  card  .  agent  prothero  ,  who  found  her  ,  gave  her  the  means  to  burn  everything  down  -  he  hands  her  a  promise  &  information  that  always  swims  around  her  head  .  her  parents  aren’t  dead  ,  kept  hidden  by  everyone  in  her  life  ,  they’re  still  kicking  &  on  the  run  .  a  goal  formulated  as  he  reminds  her  to  finish  her  schooling  -  there’s  the  same  glint  in  his  eye  that  she  often  sees  in  the  mirror  -  a  promise  made  to  finish  &  return  .  some  people  deserve  a  downfall  ,  her  mother’s  will  be  her  .

𝑪𝑶𝑽𝑬𝑻𝑬𝑫

throuple  /  trio    :    hee  hee  ,  as  explained  in  my  app  ,  jus  three  prodigies  who  get  along  so  well  that  they’re  jus  the  best  of  friends  .  kindred  spirits  ,  always  found  together  ,  wearing  complimenting  colors  while  they  try  not  to  laugh  to  hard  in  the  library  over  something  rly  stupid  .  they  hold  hands  while  walking  through  hidden  corridors  &  keep  their  heads  down  to  the  wind  ,  but  it’s  always  the  three  of  them  .

unrequited  rivalry    :   i.e.  an  opal  who  sees  her  as  a  “rival”  (  or  jus  pushes  her  )  &  eden’s  like  haha  peepeepoopoo  in  response  cos  she  doesn’t  think  anyone’s  worthy  enough  to  be  her  rival  .  if  anything  ,  she  thinks  it’s  more  endearing  than  annoying  &  it  gives  her  something  /  someone  to  look  forward  to  when  the  time  comes  down  to  it  .

the  angle  to  her  deivl    :    anyone  who’s  a  lil  kinder  ,  a  lil  softer  &  not  as  annoying  around  the  edges  .  eden  consistently  plays  devil’s  advocate  &  will  stir  the  pot  it  if  brings  drama  &  a  little  bit  of  chaos  into  her  life  ,  this  muse  is  someone  who’s  always  the  ‘  eden  no  ’  to  her  ‘  eden  yes  ’

in  relation  to  her  circlet    :    fully  explained  in  my  app  ,  but  eden  unabashedly  views  her  coven  as  family  -  even  if  she  does  lean  into  the  role  of  annoying  cousin  .  she’s  no  leader  ,  more  of  an  antagonistic  side  kick  who  always  plays  devil’s  advocate  &  causes  trouble  .  that  being  said  ,  when  things  get  dirty  &  things  need  solving  ,  that’s  her  main  job  (  she  ?  thinks  )

in  relation  to  the  opals    :    opals  ,  shmopals  .  a  characteristic  flaw  is  her  disregard  to  authority  figures  (  always  seen  arguing  with  professors  ,  will  fight  the  p*lice  when  called  to  a  party  ,  has  tackled  various  figures  around  campus  )  ,  including  the  opals  .  respect  should  be  earned  &  besides  being  her  seniors  ,  she’s  seen  no  other  reason  to  respect  them  .  so  ,  she’s  outwardly  disrespectful  &  idk  what  to  say  .

[calypsohq]

► ( lalisa manoban & nonbinary ) according to the school’s records, calypso “cal” saetang is a 21-YEAR-OLD junior studying film, and they live over in gordon. they are a sagittarius, so that must be why others describe them as individualistic, honest, detached and regretful. when i see them, i’m reminded of old journals and diaries with chunks of writing scribbled out, film burning out in an old projector, the faint glow of a television screen late at night. ( gibby, 20, they/them, est ) ◄

andddd we’re on intro number two !!! i still don’t have my braincell but like pls take my bby calypso tyvm.

basics.

name: calypso saetang 

nicknames: cal

age: twenty one.

gender and pronouns: nonbinary, they/them.

sexual & romantic orientations: bisexual, biromantic, femme leaning.

major: film.

housing: gordon.

backstory.

trigger warnings: mental illness, death, death of a sibling, grief.

the eldest child of the saetang clan, when calypso was first born, everything the light touched was theirs. they were the shining star in their parents eyes, the single most important thing to exist in their life. cal was their princess, an invisible crown placed upon their head the moment they took their first breath, and they never really got to experience the true power that this held.

why didn’t they get to experience? well, it was simple. another baby came along only moments afterwards, a twin with eyes that shined just as bright as cal’s. they were two halves of the same whole, and for a brief moment, maybe they were equal.

it didn’t last, however. azalea was said to have been, “brilliant” by their doctors growing up, something calypso never showed signs of due to undiagnosed adhd, and immediately the two were different. while azalea excelled with starting to read eons above the level of her peers, calypso found themself with their head in the clouds, distanced from even many of their peers at school. 

with the taste of greatness on their tongue, the saetang’s weren’t satisfied with a prodigy for a daughter while their other child left away to rot. no, they wanted stars — two golden ones in their family, to bring them greatness. it starts simple: “calypso, you should be more like your sister,” and suddenly both children are found at odds with each other, a battle that calypso was never destined to win.

it wasn’t that calypso wasn’t capable - no, they were, but they weren’t like azalea. while she could dance and sing, they preferred to be behind the scenes, often dreaming up book and movie ideas and a life much different than their own that they’d scratch away into the depths of journals and diaries that could never meet the eyes of another. they weren’t the same.

this war, often fueled by their parents, started a war between sisters. everything cal could do, azalea could do better - a frustrating game of cat and mouse despite how hard cal would try. by the time the two got to high school, their relationship was irreparable - they shared nothing anymore other than their own face.

during their senior year of high school, the two were permanently split by the ways of nature as azalea passed away only weeks before their graduation. despite the two never being close, it seemed to hit calypso the hardest, who suddenly began to hide away in their bedroom. 

in fact, the only reason they left for haddon was to get away from it all - their old swingset in the backyard that hadn’t been touched in years, her old bedroom across the hall, the area where they carved their names into the windowsill in their bedroom, their parents, all of it.

this is SUCH a bad ending to this intro but like ba dum tss that’s where they are now !! they’re in film bc they’ve always been passionate about film and they wear their sister’s bracelet on their wrist always as their tribute to her! also don’t really talk to their parents anymore as they find themself harboring a lot of anger towards them for the rift they caused, but sometimes it’s just them trying to place blame on the lack of closeness the two had on someone other than themself.

study.

trigger warning: drugs mention.

if you say your favorite movie is by [ redacted bc i dont want anyone 2 be offended hello FDHJKFHAJK ] cal will kick you out of whatever room you are in with them. if you are outside, cal will kick you to the sun without any hesitation.

they’re quite opinionated which, is that for their own good or not? only time will tell. they never seem to be able to politely mask their disgust when someone says that they adore the newest adam sandler movie or that, god forbid, friends was funny ( no offense to anyone if u like that, pls know i adore u fdsjhdfhkj ). they can just be a bit pretentious at time, something they will swear they aren’t as they, “don’t care enough” to do such a thing. which, spoiler alert: they do care enough and if you are, unfortunately, someone they talk to, they will ramble to you about how pixar isn’t actually that good but dreamworks ruined itself trying to catch the high of shrek. 

they are... a complete pothead though and frankly if you ever need weed they are there for you

they get really philosophical about life and movies the higher they get though so you have to be prepared for some ramble about how everyone is a main character and that tik tok trend was wrong and this idea that some people are more important than others is exactly what capitalism wants you to think. 

they tend to be very detached tho - one of their biggest “fatal flaws.” they don’t usually give a fuck if they hurt you, not because they don’t care about you, their emotions just aren’t completely... there

consider them * linkin park vc * numb. 

they are very passionate abt hamsters too like they have one named saturn and you WILL see them put it in their pocket and take it to parties simply to go hide in the bathroom and play with it bc their priorities are clearly in check

honestly they just like rodents n probs want a chinchilla too which, valid

was an e-girl before being an e-girl was cool, basically just meaning they are emo. a valid emo, but still they’re quite emo. 

they were probs honestly interested in the school because of it’s dark history - the perfect setting and scene for a dark documentary on such a subject, or even a spooky place to shoot a movie. it’s kinda morbid and out of touch but hey, that’s calypso. 

they also think the minions are kinda cute so pls roast them 

wanted connections.

friends. — i just... i love platonic plots....

best friends. — hONESTLY it’d be really cute if there was a trio that was like, super super sweet bubbly cottage core girl, soft boy, and emo enby n so i am asking for that tyvm

enemies. — i can’t put frenemies down for them bc unfortunately cal is super quick to snip snip bUT LIKE ENEMIES ??? there’s a lot to do here, though frenemies might work if its like, used to be friends n now isn’t like idk listen my brain is gone

exes. — like ?? yea ??

other connections. — did u see my braincell leave ?? did u ?? reread n you’ll see the exact moment it left i swear 

[wonderlustlucas]

eggs - lee taeyong

⇢ prompt Breakfast does not go to the stomach, it goes to the heart. ⇢ pairing taeyong x female reader ⇢ word count 3.1k ⇢ genre fluff ⇢ warnings none unless fluff gives u whiplash :D ⇢ summary “Taeyong fluff. basically like they aren’t a couple yet but they know they both like each other so they’re all cutesy and shit :) plot doesn’t really matter tbh as long as it’s some cute ass fluff”—request ⇢ a/n take this fluffy shit and shove it up ur ass for optimum benefit

“Noona, will you please make us breakfast?” You are one hundred percent going to kill him.

“Ten, call me that again and the only thing I will cook is your arms and legs. I just bought cereal and milk, so leave me alone,” you groan like a branch under the weight of snow, rolling away from the brightness of the sun filtering through the window and swinging a leg out from beneath the covers to dangle off the bed. “No, you finished the cereal Thursday and never told me to pick up more, plus there’s no milk left,” Ten retorts, voice muffled behind the white door and at the sound of his—your—friends laughing, you feel like screaming. “Then go out and buy some more!”

“___, there’s like fifty eggs in the fridge, plus it’s past twelve and loverboy is starving, don’t you want to cook for T—“

“Okay, shut up!” You shout, accepting defeat rather than embarrassment and whipping the blankets away with an annoyed sigh. Picking a crumpled tee shirt from the floor, you pull it over your head with a certain irritation and make way for the door, swinging it open and glaring coldly at the grinning boy despite the heat growing on your cheeks like sunburn. “I hope you rot in Hell,” you hiss, jabbing a finger into his chest and stomping past him.

In a weak attempt to move past your guests as quietly as possible, you direct your attention to the floor and scurry through the living room quiet as a mouse, embarrassingly aware of loverboy’s—as Ten called him—presence. “Morning, ___.”

Caught. “Good morning,” you sigh, finally averting your gaze to look at the trio and offering a feeble wave. Maybe if you just pretend that he isn’t here, you can survive the day. However, as soon as your eyes land on Lee Taeyong and all his glory, hot rosiness is already burning its way up your neck quicker than before and settling on the apples of your cheeks. Curse you, you want to say, mouth sour and stare fixated on the brunette for a heartbeat too long until he smiles and you embarrassingly hurry on to the kitchen.

If it’s not for the incessant growling of your stomach, you truly contemplate opening the refrigerator door just to slam it back on your head; however, even though you would never admit it, cooking breakfast for Taeyong remains to be your first and foremost priority on this lovely afternoon. And so, no matter how much you don’t want to, you smack a cast-iron pan loudly on the stove and twist on the gas, pausing to count with your fingers how many eggs you’ll need before eventually just grabbing the whole carton.

You see, developing a crush on one of Ten’s friends was never part of the plan. To be entirely honest, you had laid in bed the night Ten first moved in, tucked delightfully in your duvets wondering how in the name of God you were going to survive just a week without falling for him. However, as time went on, Ten’s fiery attitude and the fact that it seemed as if his friend Johnny was the one who in fact moved in based on the amount of time he spent in your shared apartment made it quite painless to get over the brief obsession in your newest flatmate.

And while Ten does have a mentality spicier than sriracha, you could not find it in yourself to complain when he brought not one but three friends over two months into moving in. By that time, you were fairly close to Johnny, considering he was knocking on the door almost every day (at this point, you had already settled on the idea that the two were one hundred and fifty percent dating, although you would never ask), but had zero ideas that Ten even had other friends, let alone met them.

And to be quite frank, you did not expect another two attractive men to enter your life. Jung Jaehyun, quite possibly the most angelic human you have ever met and Lee Taeyong, the greatest threat to your existence.

Perhaps you would not have fallen so quickly if it was not for the fact Ten was adamant on having the three over every fucking day. The first time you met was a terrifying case of embarrassment; you had been sleeping in when you woke to quite possibly the loudest noise to ever enter your eardrums. And so, with speed faster than light, you fled from bed with nothing but measly undergarments to see what sort of Satanic ritual Ten was pulling, only to find two strangers grimacing at an enormous box now flat on the floor.

It was painfully awkward, from the moment they noticed your ghastly presence in the doorway, to the realization they just dropped the new television Ten just bought, and finally to the fact you were practically naked in front of them. Without even a glance to their faces and with a noise akin to a frightened mouse caught in a trap you spun back behind the door, slammed it closed, and dove back into bed, shivering under the covers and planning your plan of survival that included never leaving the one hundred and twenty-seven square feet of your bedroom.

However, five hours later your stomach had a mind of its own.

6:07 PM - To Ten: i will literally do absolutely anything u want ever in ur life if u bring me cereal

6:07 PM - From Ten: No shot

6:07 PM - To Ten: oh my god ten please

6:08 PM - From Ten: I think my friends need an apology for seeing ur titties this morning🤧

6:08 PM - To Ten: please dont do this to me im so hungry i will literally do anything

6:08 PM - From Ten: Bj?

6:08 PM - To Ten: yes an infinite everyday

6:08 PM - From Ten: hmmmm

6:09 PM - From Ten: nah

6:09 PM - From Ten: come get food urself

With an infuriated, muffled scream into the downy pillow, you hurl your phone to the mattress before leaning up and mentally preparing yourself for the onslaught of teasing from your sinister flatmate. Sighing obnoxiously as you exit your bedroom for the first time in almost twenty-four hours, absolutely nothing in the entire fucking universe could have prepared you enough for the unquestionably perfectly crafted specimen of Lee Taeyong.

Upon first glance, you barely noticed his figure hidden in the corner of the room, simply a monochrome silhouette concealed in the darkness. It was not until the hues flashing from the television lit up the dark space with brightly colored shades from a commercial did he come into view, seated on the farthest side of the sofa. He was like a single brilliant star on a sky of perfect midnight velvet, a star whose gravity stole the air from your lungs and left you breathless in the doorway upon first glance.

He was by far the most alluring human you have ever seen.

“Hey ___!” Ten suddenly shouted, cutting your train—or lack thereof—of thought into shreds and replacing it with your previous hatred. “Die,” was all you said, earning a chuckle from someone, although you could not seem to care to find out who and instead continued for the kitchen.

“How’s your day been?” He continued, yelling from the other room and you contemplated whacking the side of his head with a cast-iron pan. “Don’t talk to me,” you shouted back while rummaging through the refrigerator, only to pull out a container of half empty white rice left over two days prior and a gallon of Breyers Extra Creamy Vanilla from the freezer.

“Are you grumpy because of what happened this morning?” He singsongs, followed by just leave her alone from an unknown voice as you grab two spoons and slam the drawer close. He was truly pushing your buttons. Ice cream, rice, and spoons in hand you made way for the living room, paused midway, and mercilessly pegged one of the metal spoons at Ten.

It unexpectedly hit him square in the forehead, creating a chorus of oohs from the others and you beamed. “Don’t forget who owns this apartment, Chittaphon,” you sneered, gracing his friends with a beaming smile before spinning on your heels and marching back into your bedroom.

Needless to say, Ten found it in himself to never tread that deep into your patience again and even apologized the next morning. However, the image stuck in your brain of whoever sat in the corner of the living room could not go without questioning.

“Hey, who was over last night, by the way?” You asked as Ten took a seat on the couch beside you, flicking between different television channels. “Taeyong and Jaehyun.”

“Which one had the pink hair?”

Ten huffed, throwing in the towel when it came to choosing an adequate channel, “Taeyong, why?”

You shrugged, “Nothing.” He rolled his eyes. “I’m not dumb, c’mon. You think he’s cute?” More than cute.

“I only saw him for like, a millisecond,” you sniffed, waving him off and returning to your assignment. “Good news. They’re coming over again tonight!”

You groaned, throwing your head back onto the plush cushion and kneading your eyes with your knuckles. “I didn’t pick up enough groceries to feed a whole soccer team,” you sighed, lolling your head over to blink at him. “We have eggs?”

“Yeah, why?”

“Tae will help you.”

And only after a proper introduction when Johnny, Jaehyun, and Taeyong arrived an hour later, you found yourself in the talons of a trap designed to drag you down into the depths of drool-worthy dreams and endless nights of “being in your bag.”

When it came time to cook a meal for the new clan you found ravaging your apartment, it took no less than half a minute for the cotton candy haired art-major (something you found out about him during some unacceptably adorable small talk) to jump up from his spot on the loveseat to aid you in any way possible.

“You like cooking?” He asked as you passed him another egg to be whisked, and you laughed heartily. “No, I just have to so I don’t blow all my money on takeout,” you explained, shrugged, and then followed with, “well, I don’t know. If I had time to cook out of enjoyment rather than survival, I would probably like it.”

“You should, it can be really relaxing,” he said, voice luxurious velvet as he poured the whisked eggs into the hot pan. “I don’t really know any recipes,” you shrugged, watching with quiet admiration as he went through what minimal spices you had while simultaneously folding the eggs into what would eventually be an omelet.

“Oh! I’ll have to show some you one day, then,” Taeyong grinned, and no matter how hard you tried you could not fight the rosy blush warming your features.

It was at this moment you realized you were royally fucked. There was absolutely no way of getting out of this one, you told yourself, and it was a constant reminder nearly every day when him, Johnny, and Jaehyun made their entrance. It was especially obvious on days he came over after class, the top few buttons of his shirt undone and revealing an inch too much skin that made your insides crawl, or the alone time you shared when he would help you in the kitchen, when one day over the course of three months you realized it had gone from two strangers forced to feed a group of helpless college kids to a pair naturally creating meals together, including a handful too many hip bumps, tickles, and any other type of physical touching to be categorized as just friends.

“No way,” you blew Ten off one morning when he asked if you thought you would ever date Taeyong, “he doesn’t like me like that.”

When all he did was roll his eyes, some part of you truly did drop with disappointment. For if he had said, “You should hear how he talks about you,” or, “You really are a dumb bitch,” then maybe you would have had some hope. But his lack of response confirmed your thoughts: Taeyong was an unattainable love.

Four months later, you and your now crimson haired friend dragged an absolutely wasted beyond repair Ten into his bedroom, flung him onto his mattress, removed his shoes, and patted him a good night.

“Sorry you had to deal with him,” you frowned, making way for the tiny kitchen and offering him a water in which he graciously took. Lord knows, if you had known he was coming, you would have been more prepared. And yet there you were, in nothing but an oversized tee shirt in front of the man who held all the stars in his irises and the very being of you in his hands.

“Don’t worry about it,” Taeyong smiled, clicked his tongue after taking a sip of water, “either way, I got to see my gi—you.”

Realizing his miniscule slip-up, Taeyong’s eyes grew the size of saucers, as did yours. My girl? Was that what he was going to say? You gulped, windpipe suddenly dryer than any desert on Earth, heart bumping frantically in your chest because holy shit, were you to blow it off or act on it?

Taeyong cleared his throat, and you did the same, an awkward tension suddenly filling the room thick like syrup and you were suffocating. “Anyway, I’m gonna head home. G’night, ___,” said Taeyong, offering a weak pat to your cheek. You watched him in silence as he left, and as soon as the door shut behind him the world came crashing down, the walls suddenly seemed to shrink and you hopped off the barstool in order to save yourself and sped to your bedroom in a rush of excitement and undeniable shock.

Only two days later you saw him again, a mini celebration in your apartment for the end of the semester with a bit too much soju involved. You found yourself curled into his side as the antics settled down further into the night, however alcohol still had your nerves on fire and you were hyperaware of Taeyong’s hand on what was exposed of your waist where your shirt had ridden up, long fingers drawing random patterns onto the bare skin and you could not breathe.

“___,” he said, you turned from the loud Raymour & Flanigan commercial blaring from the television to look at him, eyes wide and honest and his heart lurched. He suddenly could not find it in himself anymore to ask if he could stay the night and instead languidly studied your pretty features, face hovering closely above your own so you could feel his warm breath fanning across your cheeks and he did not know what to do.

“Taeyong!”

Ten shouted and the two of you jerked back, the serene moment suddenly popped like a bubble and you wanted to scream at him for ruining the possibilities.

The exchange between Taeyong and Ten turned to nothing but marbles in your ears, the idea of kissing him much too loud and growing from a small mustard seed hidden within your brain to an enormous tree. Except now it was in bold font and flashing every color known to man because there was no way he was actually going to kiss you, right?

Fast forward nearly a month later and here you were, found in yet another treacherous predicament as the man of your dreams sat only feet away. The past twenty-seven days were the worst of your life, you tell yourself; for every time you close your eyes, all you can picture is all the diminutive moments shared with Taeyong since your almost-kiss, every insignificant touch, every drawn-out ogling, every unnecessary compliment that only increasing became worse because Ten told him that you liked him. And instead of bringing it up, too fearful to do so even though you are convinced he must like you back, you push it away, avoiding any possible interaction that will lead to your potential collapse.

And so, when a, “Hey, do you want any help?” erupts from just around the wall, you nearly drop an egg when every muscle in your body freezes because yes he’s here but no get away. “Um,” you sniff, glancing down at the dozen eggs and then back to the boy sporting hair the shade of oozy caramel, “sure.”

You go on in silence, continuously passing Taeyong an egg to be cracked and then throwing out the shells, and you are telling yourself oh, this isn’t too bad until he decides to break the relative silence, “I like you.” You blink, squint at the wall before moving around him to wash yoke from your hands, hearing the words from those damn kissable lips makes your legs burn and heart thump at a rate that definitely is not healthy. “I know,” you finally answer, voice clogged in the back of your throat so you continue, “I like you too.”

“I know,” says Taeyong once you look up at him and he bestows upon you a toothy grin.

“I’m glad that’s settled, then,” you laugh breathlessly, leaning into his side as he scrambles the eggs, cheek pressed against his bicep, “you’re bulking up, I like it.” Taeyong drops his head to look down and you glance up with a smile that cannot seem to leave your face. “Jaehyun said the same thing,” he grins, pulling his arm away so that you must pull away but, just as your lips start to pout, he pulls your body close and wraps his arms around your waist.

In a sudden surge of courage, you raise your hand to trail a finger down the razor-sharp edge of his jawline, something you have dreamed of doing for months and now that you are finally able to, you do not know whether you will ever be able to stop. “Wow,” you almost say, breathlessly infatuated by his presence, however, the sudden pressure of his lips upon yours steals your breath furthermore and suddenly everything is all him and you pull yourself closer, air hitching in your lungs, nerves fizzing with sparks, melding your mouth against his own as the anticipation of kissing him over the past months has reached its boiling point.

“Does this mean you’re my girlfriend?” Taeyong asks once you have pulled away, lips swollen red. “That’s the general plan, yes,” you laugh softly, planting a milder peck on the side of his mouth.

.

.

.

“Does anyone smell burning eggs?”