#i made the pattern for this one back months ago when i was first messing around with how best to represent people in stitch form

[thisbuildinghasfeelings]

SOULMATES 🥺❤️

[leftneb]

Curiositas aka sirens!AU

in which Lando is a siren with species dysphoria and Oscar is the defintion of Just Some Guy, who happens to get caught up in Lando's mess. and obviously they fall in love along the way etc etc

I first posted about this idea over 2 months ago and I'm happy to announce that there is now a fic in the works!!! which will likely take at least another 2 months because goddamn the concept outgrew itself (as you can tell by the fact charles and max also, like, exist now) it's sitting at ~8k words rn, which is by far the longest thing I've ever written in my life already, but story isn't even close to being finished, so yeah it'll take a while lmao

for now though I have some character designs and lots of thoughts, which I'd like to share :3

ramblings about their individual designs and details below the cut!!

and massive thank you to my dear partner @lailau7904 for not only holding my hand through writing the fic so far but somehow being even more insane about this whole AU than I am???

LANDO

main character (and POV holder) his design isn't based on any real fish, closest resemblance is to a fake fishing lure (reference provided)

very little scarring despite sirens' hunting culture, some tiny cuts and scratches around the top of his tail from smuggling pretty stones and shards of glass

absurdly bright green scales (I really could've made him fluorescent but I think that would be overkill) which is absurdly shit for stealth purposes but good for catching the attention of potential victims

vague triangle shape language but in a semi-elegant way

doesn't eat fish and would rather not eat human either

MAX

fills the position of a leader in his and Lando's colony, inherited the role in his late teens but grew up to it pretty quickly

shark motif, all sharp and angular shapes, visibly intimidating

lots of scars collected during hunts, wounds covered over by red scales from Charles

his scales are pretty dark but they shine blue when the light hits them just right (plus Charles' scales are a bright red lmao, which is a bit suboptimal for stealth but he thinks it's worth it)

CHARLES

koi fish motif, soft and round shapes

no scarring at all

has known Max since they were kids but actually didn't meet Lando until their 20s despite Max and Lando being childhood best friends

considered legally dead by monegasque officials (this has lore reasons which I'm not about to spoil)

GENERAL NOTES

the AU plays in a modern setting, altough sirens are very behind on human technology

their gills are on the side of their ribs! they can also all breathe with their lungs above water

funky scales patterns on their torsos around "modified" areas such as their gills and back fin

they have no hands but don't let that fool you! I was simply too lazy to draw any, what you would see if I did draw them tho would include:

webbing between fingers!! matches the colour of fins

longer, and more solid, claw-like nails

wrinkled palms and fingertips

I really wanted to make Max and Charles' torsos more life accurate but could not be arsed, they all have Lando's body type, aka I've accidentally twinkified Charles and Max lmao

by now you might have noticed that there's no design for Oscar, and as much as I really want to make a siren design for him that would have some pretty heavy lore implications so I'm... hesitant to do so

other people on my sirenification waiting list are:

George Russell and Alex Albon (for the 2019 rookies circle to be complete)

Franco Colapinto (based purely off vibes)

the whole grid really god I'm so ill

for the record Logan is a human in this AU but he IS present fuck you James Vowles

you may have also noticed the papaya version I labeled as McLaren themed (this one is also the highest quality image I have in this thread if you're gonna do any zooming in please do it on this one,,,,)

all throughout writing and drawing I couldn't help but think about another banger siren!Lando fic: Salt Skin by @strawberry-daiquiris! in which Lando has orange slash papaya scales, which I just had to draw honestly

a lot of my design process was also inspired by a piece by @dumbf1sketches (it's somewhere in the pile of other gorgeous art in that post)

bonus underwater version of all of them because it wasn't bright enough for me to feel good about it being at the top but it's still like, the main colour example to my brain

TAGLIST(S)

AU @mintraindrop @cx-boxbox (I know the og post is from actual ages ago but you two were interested so I humbly offer you these crumbs)

ART @santongkabayo @cyclonixi @alto-the-avocado @loquarocoeur

people that put up with my ramblings on dc @lyslsstuff @peppysinc @girlrussell

[feltit-wroteit]

The Prodigy Son

Art Donaldson x Fem!reader

Something about all the stress Art had been under all of his early teenage years and right now made him vulnerable. He had always been, the only difference is that he had you now.

Warnings: angst to fluff, hurt/comfort, sad! Art, panic attack, talk of death

Nothing ever made you more worried than the text you had just received from your boyfriend.

Paint :) -> I need you. I'm in the lockers, please hurry...

You took your school bag off the floor quickly and hurried to meet him. Art had never texted you like this. Without a nickname or even a silly exclamation point that showed you he was always happy. Not in this one though. There was an absence of both. When you reached the men's locker room, it was silent. You dared a glance in and saw that the place was void of any other men. "Art? Baby?" You called out to locale your boyfriend.

Sobs. There was only sobs to be heard.

You walked to the sound and saw your boyfriend on a bench in his underwear. His head was held up by his arms propped up on his knees. His entire body shook and his breathing was uneven; dangerously so. You got closer to him and made your presence known by getting on your knees in front of his eyes. "Baby. Breath. Come on, breath for me." He then looked at you for the first time. But his breathing hadn't changed. He was sobbing like it was never going to end. In all honesty, you were started to get scared. "Art, please follow my breathing pattern." You took a deep breath in, telling him to do the same, and followed by breathing out. You repeated the process six times until his breathing had evened out. That is when he said his first words to you: "Can you hold me. Please, Y/n/n?" You didn't hesistate to take him in your arms and wait for him to come back to reality totaly.

It took about ten minutes for your boyfriend to calm down completely and stop sobbing. Your soothing movements on his back had stopped and you pulled away to see his face better. His soft features were marked by tear streaks and you frowned at that. What had made him so upset? It wasn't his first panic attack. You knew that because he had shared that with you during one of your late night talks. But you had never been there during one. He had not had one since you two got together seven months ago.

You helped him get dressed by handing him his Stanford shorts and polo shirt. He kissed your lips quickly a few times and let a few more tears out. Art was a mess and you didn't know why... "Art?" You asked while he was pulling back from a kiss after having put the final item of clothing on his body. "Yeah?" You took his hand and made him sit with you on the bench. "I think we should talk about this. Right? I'm sorry if it's too forward, but it's worrying me and-" he cut you by putting his hand on yours that was on the bench between your two bodies. "I want to talk about it. If you want to ear it, of course?" You nodded silently and held his hand while he started explaining.

"I love tennis. I really, really do. But sometimes I'm wondering if I have what it takes." He admitted while looking down at his lap. You rubbed his thumb reassuringly. "Of course you do, baby. I'm no expert, but Tashi told me so. Your coach seems to think so too... What happened that made you think that?" You tried to meet his gaze but he just went deeper into his head. "Hey. Stay with me..." You took the side of his face in your palm and lightly brushed it with your thumb. "My father called..." He said and tears came again. "What did he say?" You wanted to know what had put him in this state. "My grandma's dead, baby. She died last night of a stroke." He burst out in tears againa nd you went forward and held him.

You knew how close Art had been to his grandma. She was her biggest supporter, she had always been. "I shouldn't have waited to go pro. She never got to see me pro, Y/n/n." He blurted out through sobs. You held him closer than ever and sighed. "I know baby, but she'll see you from up there." You whispered. "I think and know she was proud of you right now, Art. No matter where you go after this, she would've been your biggest fan. That I am sure of. Don't put pressure on yourself over her. From the little I do know of your beautiful grandma, I know she would be sad about it." He pulled back a little and looked at you intently. "You think?" He asks more unsure than you had ever heard him. You nod your head and wiped his tears away. "When's the funeral?" "In two days." He answered and a comfortable silence fell over you two while you held for the third time in the pas hour.

A little while after, Art got up after kissing you and took his bags with him. He led you two to the exit of the lockers and you walked him to his dorm. "Y/n?" You turned your face to look at him while holding his hand. "Would you come with me? To the funeral, I mean." He waited for an answer and you smiled at him softly. "Of course, whatever you want, Art." He lifted your entertwined hands and kissed your knuckles. "Thank you for being there for me. I love you." You smiled even brighter. "I'll be here for you no matter what, baby. I love you more." You said to him as you guys continued your way to his dorm. You had spent the night at his place and you watched his comfort film while cuddling up and organizing your trip to his hometown.

At the funeral, everybody was happy that Art had found a girl as loving and supporting as you. When he walked to the open casket, you held his hand and comforted him to his needs. No one had ever done such a beautiful and meaningful thing for him. For him, you were it. You were the person he wanted to be fierce and also vulnerable with.

It was not even a full year later that he asked for your hand.

[cellythefloshie]

;; You Are In Love

Dedicated to @senditcolton for her birthday bingo!

Summary: When your best friend Luc needs a plus one for his wedding, you don't question it. Even if the key term of pretending to be his girlfriend begs to be questioned.

Nicole's Bingo Card Tropes: Friends to Lovers | Wedding Season | Only One Bed | Argument Scene | Fake Dating | “Don’t you trust me?” | Playlists as a Love Language

Kinks & TW: unprotected sex (are we surprised?), mild choking, intoxication

Word Count: 11k+

A/N:  I refused to be too late with posting this, so I stayed up late to finish writing it. Fair warning, it's not edited. So there are probably going to be some grammatical and spelling errors throughout. Now, with those cautions aside... Happy Birthday Nicole! I hope you had a wonderful day! Thank you for being such a wonderful part of the hockey rpf community! I hope you enjoy this mess of a fic that I threw together for you - and I apologize if it feels rushed. I know if I took the time this fic could have easily ended up being a whole novel.

Playlist.

Act 1. 

Moving the prongs of your fork in circles around your plate, you pushed the contents that remained along the glass. You didn’t quite have the stomach to finish it, but couldn’t bring yourself to tell Luc you weren’t going to finish your plate. If you sat there long enough, if you held the casual conversation long enough, maybe you’d be able to finish it. But not even Luc had managed to clear his plate. Which you didn’t let go unnoticed. Luc had a routine, even during his off-season, and that included eating enough to maintain his busy training schedule. 

That was your first clue that something wasn’t right. The second clue was that he hadn’t met your eyes since the two of you sat down to eat at the island in his kitchen. Instead, you found his eyes staring out the grand glass window overlooking Downtown Winnipeg. You had thought he might have been distracted by the bumper-to-bumper traffic down Portage Avenue as every nine-to-five worker headed out to their cabin for the weekend, or maybe the wail of the sirens that were so frequent you almost didn’t hear them anymore. That was until you saw his gaze flicker over your features for but a moment before falling to his plate. He too was just pushing around what remained. 

Lowering your fork to rest across your plate, you pushed up to lean across the kitchen island, a little closer to your best friend. “Something on your mind?”

Your question drew his bright gaze back up to you, the corner of his lips curling up into a smirk that was framed by the mustache you had been trying to convince him to get rid of or at the very least blend into the rest of his beard. But not even his awkward mustache could distract you from his small smile as he pushed up from his seat and made the few steps that carried him to his fridge. 

“I’ve been meaning to ask you something,” Luc started slowly, piquing your interest and drawing a soft oh from your lips as you pushed your plate aside so you could rest your elbows on the countertop. He stood with his back to you for a moment, and you could see the muscles of his back grow tense as he reached up to pull a single piece of paper from beneath a magnet on the fridge. He only had to turn around to be able to toss the thick white cardstock down, the very weight of the paper and the flick of his wrist giving it enough of a push to send it drifting into your reach. 

It was an invitation, the text was a beautiful gold cursive and the paper itself was embossed with a beautiful floral pattern that was synonymous with a wedding. You traced your fingers over it slowly, your eyes dragging the two names that were only familiar to you because of Luc. He had spoken of the wedding when he had first received the invitation months ago. He and his girlfriend were to take the trip to Montreal together. But Luc was single now, and the wedding date was a mere week away. 

“I want you to come with me,” his words were a statement, not a question as he leaned back against the fridge, as if the distance between you both would make it less likely for you to reject his offer. 

It was a statement that left you staring at him, your eyes wide and your mouth agape, “No, no I shouldn’t.” Your hands raised, shaking from side to side as you offered your careful rejection. Then your lips fell into a ramble of excuses, “It’s really short notice. I won’t know anyone there and I would have anything to wear to something like-” 

As you rambled you looked around his kitchen at anything but him. So you didn’t notice as Luc left where he leaned against the fridge and rounded the counter to stand at your side. There he coaxed you to silence with the softness of his name on his tongue and the careful touch of his hands on each side of your face. His warm touch spread over your cheeks and carefully guided your face to look up at his. 

“I already have the plane tickets,” his words were soft, his eyes staring right down into yours as you pouted up at him, “and I will buy you a dress for the wedding. And one for the rehearsal dinner too, even if you like.”

“Rehearsal dinner?”

“Yeah,” his smile was a little crooked now as he was about to reveal just how busy your weekend would be if you agreed to go, “I’m in the wedding party and I ah-”

“You what, Luc?” you questioned, your voice firm. What wasn’t he telling you?

“And I told them I would be bringing my girlfriend.”

“Luc!” You shouted at him, your eyes going wide. 

He didn’t need to put it into words, you knew exactly what he was suggesting without saying it. Pierre-Luc Dubois, your best friend since he arrived in Winnipeg after a literal run-in at the airport, not only wanted you to be his date to a wedding in Montreal, he wanted you to pretend to be his girlfriend. Just the proposition of it all made your hands sweat. You weren’t girlfriend material. At least not NHL girlfriend material. You didn’t fit the stereotypical cookie-cutter mold that came to mind when you thought of a WAG - even if you knew those stereotypes weren’t always true. Being Luc’s friend, you had the luxury of meeting a handful of the Jet’s wives and girlfriends and they quickly challenged every belief you had about what they were supposed to be prior. Though, you would be lying if there weren’t a few that were the very embodiment of what a hockey WAG was believed to be. Which wasn’t always a bad thing. And maybe, just maybe, pretending to be one would be fun. 

“Okay,” you sighed after a moment of leaving him hanging in the silence of your contemplation, “I’ll come.”

With your words, you could practically see the tension leave his shoulder. They seemed to fall away from his neck and ears as his hands left the hot skin of your cheeks. But his touch didn’t leave you. His hand instead found your back as his arms would around you in a thankful embrace that echoed the thanks in his words as he spoke them into your hair. 

Act 2. 

Growing up in Winnipeg, you didn’t know all that much about Montreal. You knew what your school taught you; that French was their first language and there were often discussions about how they wanted to be their own country but beyond that you knew nothing about it, which terrified you as the plane made its landing in the historic city. That terror sunk further into your gut when Luc led you out into the airport where you quickly discovered your beginner-level French wouldn’t cut it. 

The rush of the French language being spoken so fluently around you left your head spinning and your stomach in knots. If you were alone, you surely would have thrown up and caught a flight back home, but Luc was your anchor. Your savior, as he reached out for your arm and kept you close as the two of you navigated through the airport and the city together. 

Luc spoke so you didn’t have to, the French leaving his lips so fluently it left you jealous. While, if you wanted to say anything there would be a long pause as you thought about what exactly you had to say. Even then, it was probably wrong, and you knew it was when Luc would give you a crooked smile and his eyes would water as he held back a chuckle that was threatening to creep up his throat. He did it in the cab, and again in the hotel lobby as you tried to keep up with the conversation at the check-in desk. But he didn’t comment on it until you were alone in the elevator, making the ascent up to your floor. 

“You know, you don’t have to force yourself to speak French, especially with me while we’re here. I have no issue with translating for you,” his words were kind, but they still tied your stomach into knots - or maybe that was just how quickly the elevator seemed to rise from the ground up. 

“It’s that bad, huh?” You tried to hide your insecurity, but your own voice betrayed you. It had broken as you spoke, and that alone only brought you more embarrassment. It left your palms sweaty and had the handle of your bag slipping from your hold. It fell to the ground in an awkward clamor, leaving you flinching and apologizing as you reached out for it, but Luc’s hands beat you there. 

He would be carrying your bags the rest of the way. 

“You’re doing your best,” Luc assured as the elevator chimed, you had reached your floor. 

He continued to speak as he led the way, “but you’re here as a favor to me. The least I can do is assure that you are enjoying yourself, and you can’t do that if you’re constantly trying to figure out what needs to be said.”

You stood behind Luc with your arms crossed over your chest and your eyes on his feet. You used them as your guide, not once looking up at him because you hated that he was right. The entire trip was going to be a struggle if you didn’t look to him for his help, but the last thing you wanted was to have to rely on a man’s help to do anything. You had gone years without a boyfriend. Years without needing a man to do anything for you, but now you needed Luc just to get through the simplest interactions. And it left you pouting. 

“I don’t want your help,” you pouted at him, following in his wake as he opened the room’s door and led the way inside. 

“Keyword, want,” Luc sighed, and you heard him place the bags down on the floor, “but you do need it,” he said your name so softly it had your gaze rising from the floor in search of his face. 

Your eyes didn’t find Luc, they had been quickly distracted by the simple elegance of the room and the one bed that had been placed at the center of a beautiful accent wall. You looked around quickly. The room was small, with a grand window just beyond the bed, and a television on the opposite wall. Then there were two doors. One that would open up to a  small closet and the other for the bathroom.

You swallowed hard, your eyes rolling back as you let out an exasperated sigh, “One bed? Really?” 

You shouldn’t have been so surprised. He hadn’t been single when he originally made the reservations, and you couldn't blame him for not requesting an updated room. You were both adults. You both knew where your boundaries had been set. And while you were playing pretend, you were friends. Luc respected you. You knew he did. If he didn’t, he would have tried to pull something stupid with you a long time ago. 

Yet, your stomach was left fluttering the nervous butterflies at the thought of having to sleep beside him. The thought of having to feel the warmth of his body so close to yours-

And you felt it then, pulling you from your thoughts before they could spiral as he came to stand behind you. Luc’s body was warm, so warm that you could feel it radiating against your own body before you could feel the touch of his hands against your arms. His touch dragged down in a reassuring caress before you could feel the strength of his chest brush against your back as you both stood together, looking over the king-sized bed. 

“Don’t you trust me?” He punctuated the question with your name, his words teasing as he reached up and took your jaw in the hold of one hand. Luc guided your gaze back to look at him, his face so close to yours you could feel his hot exhale as you muttered out a simple, “I trust you.” 

“Good,” Luc breathed out, then guided your head to the side just enough to place a sweet kiss on your cheek before every part of you was void of his touch and his heat as he returned to the bags, “because I was not going to offer to sleep on the floor.”

“Wow,” you gasped to mock him, “such a gentleman.” 

“I’m going to be on my best behavior for you this weekend,” he promised with a grin that left you wondering how close to lying he may be. Luc always did like to cause a little trouble, “but only if you start getting ready, we have to be at the rehearsal in just over an hour.”

Raising a brow at him, you looked at an invisible watch on your wrist, “I don’t know, Luc. I can’t get ready for such an important function in less than an hour.”

“You just have to change into your dress-”

“And do my makeup, and fix my hair, and-”

Luc stood up, taking a single stride to bring him to stand toe to toe with you. His bright eyes narrowed, his stare dragging over your face as he tried to compose himself, but you could see the smile that tried to creep up at the corner of his lips as he spoke, “Just get changed before I have to drag you down to a Taxi. Besides, you look great.”

And he wasn’t wrong. You did look great. You had gone to the salon the day before to get your hair and nails done just for the occasion. The stylist had given you a tight curl, something that when you slept on it the curls would still be there but softened. You wouldn’t have to do much more than smooth out a flyaway. And you’d keep your makeup simple. Mascara, eye shadow, lipstick, and brows were all soft and natural. It would only take you a few minutes, but you still took the opportunity to tease him and be a little dramatic for the fun of it. You expected him to threaten to rush you out like he had, but what you hadn’t expected was the compliment. And it left you biting down on your tongue, unsure of how to accept it from him. 

“That’s what the beauty sleep on the plane gifted me,” you joked after a minute of contemplation as you slipped into the bathroom, out of sight. 

Luc mocked you with exaggerated snores as the two of you got ready in separate rooms. You were in the bathroom, while he remained in the main room. You didn’t need more than five minutes in front of the mirror with your makeup bag. Everything going on flawlessly for the first time probably ever. But when it came to putting on your dress, you struggled to reach the zipper that ran up the center of your back. 

“I hate to do this but-” you spoke as you came to stand in the doorway, but your tongue seemed to swell before you could get your full sentence out. 

Luc was leaning back against the dresser, his suit pants undone and his belt threatening to bring them down the length of his legs if the weight of the buckle dipped down a little too low, and he had yet to button up his pale dress shirt. It hung off his shoulder, his bare chest on full display, right down the treasure trail that ran down his abdomen and disappeared behind the waistband of his boxer briefs. 

“What was that?” Luc’s hands were trying to fix his tie that had become unmanageable in his suitcase. But you barely noticed the silken fabric, you were too caught up in how his muscles tensed with his every moment. It left your skin hot, you could only hope you weren’t blushing. 

“I’ll help you with your tie if you zip up my dress,” you offered, your words softer, less playful than you had intended them to be when you first entered the room. 

“Can you tie one of these?” Luc arched his brow. 

“You can’t?”

He was quiet for a long moment, his eyes leaving you to glance anywhere else before he pushed up from the dresser. You couldn’t tell if Luc was embarrassed, or if he was just being kind and looking away from you as you struggled to keep the unzipped dress held against your body with the clutch of your own hands over your breasts. You clutched the fabric to your chest. Your own grip amplified your own cleavage as you went braless for the dress. It was a risk but also a comfort. But you couldn’t help but wonder if that was the very reason that Luc was so hesitant to be near you. 

Your friendship with Luc in many ways was still young, even if the two of you were close. But that meant the two of you had a lot of firsts left to experience together, including some things you didn’t think you’d ever experience together, which included pretending to be his girlfriend and standing in front of him so vulnerably in the middle of the hotel room. Clutching your dress a little tighter on his approach you stiffened up and stepped out of the doorway to give Luc room to stand behind you. And you held your breath as his hands found the zipper of your dress. One pinching the sleek pull tab while the other made sure it guided effortlessly up the zipper’s teeth instead of pinching your skin. 

His fingers dragged over your skin as the zipper traveled up, stopping only when the zipper had reached the very top and they were left to graze over your flesh. You could feel as the pads of his fingers stroked over you, in a way that you were sure was done without thought. Moving up until they found your hairline. Then, he followed it, finding where you had your hair thrown over one shoulder before fixing it to hang down your back. Even then his touch seemed to linger, leaving your breath held in your chest as your eyes fell to the floor. 

Luc had never touched you like that before. 

So carefully. 

So slowly. 

Hell, had he ever really touched you? 

Sure, the two of you had shared the occasional hug. Your hands would bump and collide on occasion. When the confines were close, you could feel the heat of his body. And he was never shy about taking your head in his hands when you weren’t listening to him or he wanted to assure you that you were okay, but this? This was different. This was his skin against yours. His fleeting touch in places you were sure he hadn’t even thought of touching you before. And it lingered as you stepped forward, cleared your throat, and reached a near trembling hand out for his tie that lay limp over the end of the dresser. 

It was only with it in your hands, distracted by the silken material that you found your composure. Then, you showed Luc how to tie his tie, pausing on occasion to make sure he was paying attention because you were only going to help him with this once. 

If there was one thing you were good at, it was faking your way through awkward situations. You could put on a smile, and hide any feeling of awkwardness with false confidence with ease. And you couldn’t have been more grateful for that as you found yourself consumed by the rehearsal dinner. You had hoped that you would have been nothing more than a fly on the wall. That you could make your pleasantries with small smiles and sweet I’m great, how are you’s, but you were wrong. You found yourself to be a popular wedding guest, all thanks to Luc. 

He wasn’t the only NHL player that was going to be in attendance, but he was the only one in the bridal party. Which made him a popular target for conversation outside the bride and groom. And by proxy, you were too. 

After the rehearsal itself, and sitting down to eat, when there was time left to mingle every single conversation started with an introduction. It was always the same, with Luc’s hand finding the small of your back and stroking it slowly as he said your name and introduced you as your temporary, fake title: girlfriend. And every single time it had the same effect on you. His touch would coax you in closer to him, your body leaning into his so casually, so effortlessly it was as if you had done it many times before. It made you smile too, so wide, yet so softly that you looked excited to meet stranger after stranger. It hid that you were completely overwhelmed by the introductions and the switch from French to English and back to French again in the conversation. When in reality, you just liked how it sounded leaving his lips, you liked how it left you giddy with butterflies in your belly. And you liked how his hand never left you for in that moment, you were his. 

It was so easy to play pretend with Luc. Your chemistry was so natural because that was how it had always been. The two of you had always been comfortable with one another, especially since you had always just clicked. It was all of the lingering touches and knowing glances that were new to both of you. 

Luc would meet your gaze med conversation, his lips curling into a smirk almost as if he was on the verge of laughter before he forced himself to look away. You were sure it was his attempt at trying to find his composure, that and how his grip on your waist, or hip if it had slid downwards throughout the conversation, would grow a little tighter. 

It left you on edge all night in the best way. Your heart racing in your chest right up to the moment the two of you took to the Montreal streets together after dinner. 

The streets were left wet from the rain that had started to fall sometime after you had arrived at dinner. It reflected the city lights, glistening beautifully even as your rushed footsteps splashed through the puddles. The rain continued to fall, hitting the ground hard and leaving you to shiver as it dripped down the angles of your face and down the curves of your body. It would not be long until your dress was soaked right through, and Luc must have noticed. 

The moment the two of you were forced to stop at a red light, a mere block away from the hotel, Luc was stripping off his coat. He draped it over his arms and held it up high over the both of you in an attempt to keep you dry. But it was already too late. Your dress was sticking to your skin, and Luc was only getting wetter. You could see it in the red glow of the stoplight. The cold, wet rain soaked into the white fabric, leaving it to cling to the muscles that had already threatened the tight shirt. 

While he was failing, you appreciated the effort, your heels clicking against the sidewalk as you stepped in just a little closer to his cover to keep you from the rain. The close proximity, paid with your unsteady feet left your body colliding with his. It was a gentle bump, one that left you reaching out to steady yourself against his chest, and laughing out an apology as you looked up at him. 

Luc’s features were aglow with the red tint of the stoplight, his expression one you could quite place. It left you to narrow your eyes, your lips parting in a slow, curious, breath. He wasn’t quite smiling, and his eyes fixated completely on you. It was a soft stare, one comparable to what you would have after a long night's sleep. After sweet dreams, and before you had to force yourself to get out of bed. But you weren’t dreaming. Neither of you were as you stared at one another, the glow of the lights going from red, to green and red again before Luc leaned in. 

You held your breath, your bottom lip trembling as his smirk grew. 

“Don’t you trust me?”

You let out an unsteady exhale, one that left your entire body shivering as you nodded. 

Frozen, your eyes didn’t leave Luc’s face as he lowered his coat back down to hang off his shoulders. The cold rain met the skin of your face again, but it was only for a moment. Then, all you felt was warmth. 

If came first with the touch of Luc’s hands against your cheeks. That touch alone had sent heat flooding through your entire body. It only burned hotter as Luc leaned, the very proximity of his face sending your eyes fluttering shut. And then you could feel him. His breath washed over your face in a heated wave that came crashing down on you with the kiss of his lips against your own. 

If you had the air, you would have gasped. 

But his kiss consumed you so fully, that all you were left to breathe was Luc. 

Every single one of your senses was met by him. You could taste him, and the drinks he had consumed throughout the night on your tongue. You could smell that distinct scent of his cologne. You could feel him, and the strength of his chest beneath your palms as your hands rested on his chest, so close to clutching at the fabric of the tie. And he was the first thing you saw as you drew back and let your eyes open. 

You wanted to ask him why he had kissed you, but you were at a loss for words as you stood there, and so was he. There were only smiles shared between you as his hand found your back and let him guide you through the crowded streets back to the hotel. 

It was a silence that hung over the two of you as you returned to your hotel room and split off into separate rooms to get ready for bed. You claimed the bathroom once more. It was there you struggled to unzip on your own, and as you struggled you battled the simple thought that you could ask Luc to help you with it. That he could unzip it for you. Yet, you struggled alone. It took you a long time to work the zipper free, your body straining and weakening with every awkward reach that would send the dress to the floor in a wet heap. Then, you washed your face free of the makeup that had held up surprisingly well in the rain, before you used the fluffy white hotel towel to dry your hair. 

Warm and dry, you went through the rest of your night routine which included brushing your teeth and pulling on a pair of pajamas you found yourself regretting. You had packed them thinking you would have your own bed. They were your favorite, comfortable, with fabric light to keep you from getting too hot during the night. And they cover enough. You had planned to wear them to lounge around the hotel room, knowing full well that Luc would see you in them. But sleeping next to him in them was different. You knew the fabric would shift and move in your sleep, and the risk of waking up with one or both of your breasts hanging out was a high probability. 

The risk sat like a rock in the bottom of your stomach as you stepped out of the bathroom and stood awkwardly for a moment in the doorway. The kiss was still heavy in your mind. You didn’t know why he had done it, what his intentions may have been. Maybe he was just caught up in the moment. In the love that filled the atmosphere of the rehearsal dinner and bled into every interaction with everyone afterward. But you didn’t let yourself look too much into it. Not when you knew you were just here pretending to be his girlfriend. But that didn’t mean you weren’t nervous to crawl in next to him when you could practically still feel the warmth of his kiss against your lips. 

“The bathroom’s all yours,” you told him from the doorway, and it drew his eyes straight to you. 

During your time spent in the bathroom, Luc had shed his clothes and sat shirtless on his side of the bed. His shoulders were slumped and his neck craned down to look at his hands before your words piqued his interest. 

“Thanks, I won’t be long,” Luc assured as you watched him place his phone face down on the bedside table, “just set the alarm. The downside of being in the wedding party is an early start.”

Your hands came together in front of your stomach, your fingers picking at one another as you stepped out of what would be his path to the bathroom. But you didn’t crawl into bed. You hovered around it, pacing up and down what you assumed would be your side of the bed as you listened to Luc beyond the threshold of the bathroom. He had left the door open, the water running and the buzz of his electric toothbrush too loud to be ignored, and it kept drawing your gaze.

“What time do you have to be there?” 

“They’re asking before eleven,” he called back out to you after you heard him spit into the sink, “enough time to get ready, and the session with the photographer before the ceremony.”

“Which was at what time again?”

“Three,” he answered simply, “gives you lots of time to sleep in and get ready, that is unless you want to come with me.”

“I shouldn’t-”

“But you can, they wouldn’t say no - they like you.”

“Do they?”

It shouldn’t have mattered if they did. You probably wouldn’t be meeting them again after this weekend, but it made you smile to know that you had made a good impression. That was the reason you were there after all, right? To be good company for Luc? The question crossing your mind left your brows to furrow. You never really did come to understand why you were there. He had asked you to go because he already marked down going with a plus one before his breakup. But why did he have to tell people you were his girlfriend? That you had never been answered. 

“Hey, Luc-” you started, moving to lean against the door frame of the bathroom. You peeked around it, the question on the very tip of your tongue only for it to be lost at the sight of him. 

Luc stood hunched over the sink, his hands pressing a towel to his face but it didn’t stop the water from dripping down the angles of his bare chest. The sight of it was enough to leave you mute, but when his eyes found you, his expression consumed by the softest of smiles as he waited for you to say something, anything, you choked out any words you could manage. 

“Is it alright if I turn the lights off?”

“Yeah, I’ll be right in,” Luc said, and you peeled yourself away from the wall. 

It hadn’t been what you wanted to say, and the question would eat at you all through the night - and maybe even the entirety of the trip - but you struggled to find your composure with Luc now. It had been easy before. He had been nothing more than your closest friend, but that was before he kissed you. 

It hadn’t been a simple kiss. Nor was it fleeting. Luc had stopped you there in the street and kissed you so deliberately, and you didn’t know why. There was so much you wanted to know, so many questions that needed answers, but you didn’t know how to ask them. 

So instead, you suffered in silence. 

You turned off the lights, sending the room into darkness with the exception of the warm glow of the bathroom light bleeding into the room. It illuminated your every moment, casting your shadow across the bed and dancing over the hotel room walls as you pulled back the blanket and crawled into bed. 

The cool, crisp sheets welcomed your body, sending a shiver straight through you as you hadn’t quite recovered from the rain’s cold. And for a moment, you thought you may never. That was until the bathroom lights went dark, and you felt the opposite side of the bed shift as Luc climbed in. He was more than an arm’s reach away. Yet, you could feel his warmth. 

You tried to ignore it, and how it radiated over the sheets and into the blanket. But then Luc rolled over, and his legs brushed yours so quickly it could have only been an accident. The feeling lingered against your skin, his hairy legs so coarse against your legs that you shaved before dinner and would shave them again before the wedding tomorrow.  The contrast of your contact should have left you flinching away, but it was drawing you in. Your legs bent a little more just to feel him. 

It was a slow, careful drag. The inside of your leg moving up and over his. It was then you realized just how small the bed felt with Luc in it. Just how close his body was to yours. 

Then he rolled over again. Leaving you flinching back as he tossed and turned. 

Both of you were restless. 

You were too afraid to roll over, and Luc constantly moved in an attempt to get comfortable. Both needed sleep, but it failed to take you. 

Your mind was too focused on the kiss and on his warmth. 

It left your body quivering with a heavy breath as you shifted from your side to your back, and finally to your other side where you finally came face to face with a sleepless Luc. 

“Can’t sleep?” he asked, his voice a low whisper, so low that it was almost a growl in the dark. 

You shook your head, your hair surely becoming a mess between your head and the pillow. 

There wasn’t much you could see through the darkness. But what you could see, left you holding your breath. There was a glimmer of light coming in through the window and you weren’t sure if it was a street light or if the clouds cleared and let in the light of the moon. No matter what it was, the light caught Luc’s eyes, his stare on your features. It dragged down from your eyes, down over the angle of your nose only to drop to your lips where they lingered before gliding back up again. And it illuminated his chain, a silver gleaming, as it hung off his  neck, down his chest and shoulder, and down onto his arm that he used as his pillow. 

It was a chain he always wore. One that hung off his neck all night, and all day, even when he was out on the ice. He kept it trapped between his equipment, his cross over his heart. And you knew it. Something so familiar, shouldn’t have been so captivating, but it was drawing in your touch. Your arm reached out, your fingers meeting the warm chain before they slipped and landed on his chest. 

Your lips parted, your tongue ready to curse for being so careless but your larynx was left weak. You couldn’t find your words, your throat closer to gasping as Luc was leaning in, closer. Closer. So close you could feel the heat of his breath on your skin and his lips found yours again. 

Unlike the first time, Luc didn’t ask for your permission. He didn’t need to, because you had been leaning in too. You welcomed his kiss as your fingers coiled around his thick silver chain. If you could have twisted it around your index finger you would have, but instead, you fisted it in your hand, using the delicate tension to draw Luc in further. 

You could not get him close enough, even with your lips joined together in a kiss that only grew deeper. You didn’t have to worry about being in the middle of the street now. No one was watching. It was just you and Luc, alone, together in the hotel bed. There was nothing but privacy, and no one to know that you had indulged yourself in the kiss of your best friend. 

The best friend that you told all of your other friends that you didn’t like Luc like that. That that two of you were just friends and it would be weird to be anything more than that. 

But there was no ignoring how good it felt to kiss him. To feel the roughness of his stubble against your face, and his tongue stroke along your own in your mouth. It had you melting, both metaphorically and physically. So much so that you pressed your legs firmly together in an attempt to combat the weakness between your legs that left your arousal to puddle in your panties. 

It was the only thing you could do in restraint, but any thought of holding back was quickly fading as Luc’s hands began to explore your body. They were warm, and calloused from his days spent training in the gym for the coming season. And they ran down the angles of your arms before dropping to your waist. Fingers wrinkled the soft fabric of your pajamas, bunching it up around your ribcage so he could feel the soft warmth of your skin against his palms. Luc’s touch sent a shiver coursing down your spine, and a soft groan from his lips. One that sounded so sweet to your ears, and you felt it against your lips. It was the first of what would be a symphony of sounds.

Soft moans became groans that he guided you to straddle his waist. Your body on top of his, his between your thighs. It coaxed out heavy breaths, and desperate sighs as hands touched what had once been untouched. And you welcomed it, encouraged it as your body became consumed by need, by instinct, and your hips rolled to tease the stiffness of his cock that you could feel pressed up against your clothed core. 

You could feel his smile grow against his lips at the simple action, his teeth coming down to tug at your lower lip in a playful nip that left your legs squeezing around his strong thighs. There was only so much more you could take, and he knew that too. He must have been able to see it, feel it, hear it as he pulled back and mumbled your name against the angle of your jawline. 

There was a fine line between friendship and more. The kiss had toed that line. It had corrupted your mind with the thought of more, and the two of you found yourself on the very verge of crossing a line there would be no coming back from. If you fucked him, you wouldn’t be just friends anymore. You would be caught between friendship and something more. Something complicated, and undefined. Something that could threaten your friendship. There would be no going back to how things were before. That was clear, even with your clothes still on. The kiss changed everything, and put your friendship in jeopardy. Which made the choice you had to make easier. 

You could lose him either way, so you would dive in head first. 

No regrets. 

“Take your clothes off,” you breathed out, a simple instruction, your decision made. 

Together your bodies fumbled, your clothes not coming off fast enough. Limbs collided, your hands pulling off your top before you fell to the side to pull your bottoms and panties both off in swift motions that left you bare. He didn’t help you, and you didn’t help him, but once you both were naked your bodies met again. His hands found your hips, drawing you back to where you had once sat in his lap, and his mouth continued its sweet assault on your lips. 

The first thing you did once Luc was between your legs again, your knees pressed down on the plush surface of the mattress, was let your hips resume their teasing roll. You had hoped to coax another groan from his lips, but this time you could feel his cock glide along your slick and it left you shuddering. If the sweetness of Luc’s lips hadn’t consumed your lips, you would have cursed him for just how good he felt without even being inside you. Your core clenched, and you did it again. And again. Your hips rolling, to and fro, Luc’s cock embraced by your body and coating him with your click. 

The feeling had him throwing his head back, a sting of French words you didn’t understand leaving his lips like a sweet melody. Part of you wished you knew what he said, but a part of you loved it. The mystery of not knowing was sexy. 

You teased Luc with the friction of your body, and the wetness of your arousal so much that it was almost a form of self torture. And he admired you the entire time you did it. His hands stroked over your body, along the curves of your body. Hands cupped at your breast, giving them a gentle squeeze, before trailing down. Fingertips left a grazing touch over your stomach, making the firm grapes of his hands around your hips all the more shocking. Biceps flexed as he lifted you up just enough to reach a single hand down to take hold of his cock.  

Hair fell down into your face as you looked down, your eyes on his hand as it stroked his cock. The careful guidance of his hand brought the head of his cock to your core, and for a second you thought he might tease you. That he would drag the tip of his cock along your dripping entrance until you couldn’t take the teasing. 

Luc had always looked like the type to want to tease his lover. To make them beg. 

But maybe you didn’t know him as well as you thought you did. Or maybe he was just desperate for you because he didn’t waste time with you. Luc raised his hip, pressing his cock up into your eager core before his hand found your hip again to guide you down along his cock. 

Legs quivered at the mere feeling of him, and your lips parted in a gasp at the fullness of his cock buried deep in your core. It left your head spinning, your eyes shut as you were seeing starts at the very pleasure of just feeling him. All of him. 

You rode him slowly, your hips rolling as your hands came down to brace yourself against the strength of your chest. And you rode him until the muscles in your legs burned and your lips parted in a panting breath. It was then that Luc took hold of you and flipped you over until you lay flat on your back, and not once were you void o his cock. It remained buried deep inside your walls, and deeper once he had you laying out on your back. 

His hands guided your legs to wrap around his hips, and your hips collided with his every impactful trust that left your core clenching. Yet, you were desperate for more. 

Your hand that had found the mattress in a knuckle-white grasp left the white sheets and sought blinding for one of Luc’s hands. You found it, taking it in the hold of both of your own and guiding it to where you wanted his hold. 

Around your throat. 

His grasp was careful, yet firm as you stretched your neck out for him. The simple action brought another string of words you didn’t understand spilling from his lips. 

Your core clenched. 

He spoke again so lowly it was more of a growl, and his hold grew a little tighter. Luc could feel the effect it had on you as he fucked you. His every thrust was deep and steady, leaving you gasping, moaning, and quivering as he brought you closer and closer to the very peak of your pleasure. It left you gripping at his shoulders, your nails leaving half-moon crescents in his flesh, and your legs winding tight around him as you were lost in the pleasure of Luc. You were so completely consumed by him, mind and body, that your head was left spinning. It was a dreamy daze of pleasure, one that didn’t feel real as Luc buried himself right down to the hilt of his cock and unloaded deep into your core. 

And he remained there, tired, panting, as he slumped down to lay in the bed, his hand finally falling away from your throat. Together, your bodies still joined as if they were one, you lay there. Panting, staring. Tired, but nowhere near ready to sleep. It was the perfect time to let regret and doubt consume you. 

But then Luc smiled. 

You smiled too. 

And you regretted nothing.  

When you woke up in the morning, Luc was already gone. He had gotten up early with his alarm, and left you to sleep in after your unexpectedly late night together. But it wasn’t without thought. Luc had brought breakfast back up to the room and had left the note. You would have until two in the afternoon to enjoy your day. Then, a town car would be at the hotel to pick you up. It would bring you to the cathedral, where he would meet you after the reception. 

You spent the day in bed, making no effort to dress in anything more than the complimentary robe. You picked at the breakfast he left for you and sipped the coffee that was left along with it. After the night you had, you would need the caffeine to get through the day. Then, when the time wound closer and closer to two, you stepped into the shower and washed away the salt of sweat that remained on your skin, and the remnants of Luc that had dried on the inside of your thighs. 

A part of you felt that what happened was all a dream. That you may be dreaming still. But little things brought you back to reality. The tenderness of your core with every stride around the hotel room as you got dressed. The heat of your curling iron when you held it a little too close to your neck. And the shrillness of your alarm at 1:30 all kept you grounded as you rode out the high of your night. 

There was an elegance in your stride as you made your way through the hotel lobby. One that had a bit of a hop in your step, and a confidence in your smile as you waved to the bellboy who admired your body in your dress as you made your way out the doors and out into the streets where you met the town car. 

It was a quick ride to the cathedral, and you fell straight into the chaos that came with a wedding. There were what felt like hundreds of people, and you were merely one of them as you found an empty seat near the back. You sat in the pew, your eyes admiring the stained glass, the beautiful architecture, and the almost sickeningly sweet atmosphere of love that consumed every person and every little detail in the cathedral. Normally, it would have left your nose wrinkled with disgust. You hated weddings. You didn't believe in love. But you were consumed so fully by the afterglow of sex, and it left you in love with the idea of love. 

Then, the music began to play, and the ceremony began. 

You were sure that you would be lost in the crowd. Just one face lost among family and friends closer to the bride and groom than you could ever be, but Luc found you the moment he stepped through the door with a pretty bridesmaid on his arm.

Your eyes locked, and you held your breath. He acknowledged you with a subtle nod, and your hand raised in a small wave as you admired him. Luc looked too good in his suit, the pants just a little tight around his thighs, and the color of his tie matched the hue of his eyes. It is a color you admire throughout the ceremony, his gaze finding yours as the bride and groom exchanged their vows, and again when they shared their first kiss as husband and wife. 

By the end of it all, you wanted nothing more but to kiss him. But could you?

Sure, you were pretending to be his girlfriend, but last night left you were too many unanswered questions. Did the night have the same effect on you as it did you? Was this more than just pretending? You wouldn’t get your answers. 

But you did get your kiss. 

Luc found you in the crowded church as the guests, his hands falling to your waist to draw you in. You stood flush against him, and one of his hands raised to capture your chin between his thumb and forefingers to guide you up for a slow, simple kiss. And when he pulled back, his soft smile silenced any question that sent anxiety coursing through you. 

It was the first of many kisses that peppered your evening. Luc kissed you sweetly when he left to sit at the head table and you were forced to mingle with strangers. He kissed you again when he found you after the first few dances, his hands guiding you out onto the dancefloor to dance together. And again before he left you alone at your table with the promise of returning with a flute of pink champagne. 

It would be your third, or fourth, drink of the night. You hadn’t exactly been counting. You had one to sip in your hands while you socialized and you needed another after dancing. One after the other, you welcomed its sweet taste and the feeling of the bubbles against your tongue. And you welcomed the warm fuzzy feeling that came with drinking it. It left you too comfortable in the crowded room. Too comfortable with having Luc’s hands on your body, and his lips on your lips,  as you spoke to his friends, to strangers, as his girlfriend.

The title garnered a crowd. Everyone wanted to know how you met, how long you were together, and every little detail that you were willing to offer them. The questions were easy to answer because you didn’t have to lie. And those you did have to create some kind of answer for, were born from truth. But handing it all alone in Luc’s absence, while he was taking longer than expected to get you a drink, left you overwhelmed and desperate for a moment alone. 

Excusing yourself with a smile, you promised to return once you found Luc, and you began to walk past the crowded dancefloor towards the bar. Your steps were unsteady, the buzz of the champagne coursing pleasantly through your body as you pushed your way through crowds. You kept your eyes sharp, looking for Luc in the winding line at the bar only for your brows to furrow. He wasn’t there. You stopped in place, turning in place slowly, trying to find where he could have wandered off to. 

You didn’t find him at the head table with the bride and groom who were still on the dancefloor. He was with the maid of honor who was trying to prepare the cake for cutting. And he wasn’t with the groomsmen on the way back from smoking cigars. No, you found him in the shadows by the bathrooms, tucked away from the chaos. And he wasn’t alone. 

You couldn’t see who he was with at first as you pushed through the crowd to meet him. But then, as you got closer, you wish you hadn’t. 

Luc was tucked away with his ex. 

They were standing a little too close for comfort. His hands were cradling each of her cheeks, her hands resting atop his,  as he stood, arched over so that she could hear him speak in his hushed tones. You could see his lips moving, but you couldn’t hear a single word. But you didn’t need to. His body said it all, as did the look on her face. Her eyes were glassy, her lips swollen, and her hands clutching at his tie. Your mind was quick to connect the dots, jumping to one conclusion, and one conclusion only. 

Luc had brought you there to make her jealous. 

And it worked. 

She wanted him back, and you were sure you had just caught them at the end of kissing and making up. 

There was a heaviness that consumed your gut. It was a coiling of regret and naivety sitting there like a rock as you were sobered by your own anger. How could you have been so stupid to think that this was the opportunity for the both of you to be something more? 

It left a sour taste in your mouth as you stumbled back, running into guests you didn’t know and drawing too much attention to yourself. You muttered out rushed apologies, your voice breaking but you were nowhere near tears. You were too angry to cry, but you knew you needed to get out of there before that anger boiled down to sorrow. 

Quick steps carried you to your table, your hand grabbing your clutch like you were Indiana Jones stealing a treasured idol and a large bolder was now in full pursuit. But your bolder was Luc. 

You could hear him calling after you as you pushed your way to the exit. You ran when you could, but it would never be fast enough. You couldn’t outrun him if you tried. And when he finally caught up to you, you were standing in the middle of the sidewalk, dazed by the rush of traffic on the busy Montreal street. 

There was nowhere else for you to go, so you turned around and you faced him. 

“You knew she was going to be here, didn’t you?” You threw your words at him, the question emphasized by the honking of Montreal city traffic as you stood in the center of the sidewalk, crowds from the wedding and general foot traffic moving around the both of you in a blur. And you just stared at him, waiting for an answer, an answer he couldn’t give you, because he knew you wouldn’t like it. He did know she was going to be here, you could see it in the ashamed look on his face, and the sad look in his eyes. And you should have known that too. They had been together for years. His friends were her friends too. 

It made you want to scream, but instead, you took a few steps towards him, your palms meeting the strength of his chest to shove him back towards the door of the venue. 

“You’re a fucking joke,” you said, your voice not once losing its harsh confidence even if it so desperately wanted to break like your heart already had deep in your chest. 

“You could have saved me and yourself a lot of trouble if you had just come alone, Luc. But no, everything is always so complicated with you. You can’t make anything easy. You’ve got to make her jealous right? So it’s all the more satisfying when you get her back into your bed.” 

Your name slipped from his lips, a desperate plea as he tried to reach out to you. You stared at his hand for only a moment, his reach so tempting to reach out to. He wanted you to take it, to hold your hand and draw you in. What he would do after that, you didn’t know. And you wouldn’t find out. You would rather step out into traffic. And you did. Your heels met the wet roadway, splashing through the shallow puddles as you came to stand between parked cars. 

“We were just-”

You almost groaned at the sound of his voice. You didn’t want to hear it anymore. So you cut in before he could try to feed you any excuse he could come up with. 

“Pretending? Your head cocked to the side, an unpleasant smile on your lips, “you’re right. We were. All of this was just fucking pretend. So I’m done pretending.” 

Throwing your hands up, you moved further from the curb to hail a cab from the chaos of the Montreal city traffic. But Luc was moving into the street after you, his footsteps making your shoulders tense up before you could turn around and see that it was him. 

“Can you just give me a second to fucking say anything?” His voice was strained with the frustration that was painted all over his face. 

“Why should I?” You bit back. 

“Just let me explain-”

“Explain, ha,” you laughed, “As much as I would love to see how you would justify this, I’ve given you more than enough of my time, Luc.”

The conversation didn’t end there. 

Luc always needed to try to get the last word. “You’re impossible!”

But you never let him have it. “And you’re an asshole,” you told him with a forced smile before climbing into the cab that was holding up traffic in the street. 

A symphony of honks was the background music as you told your destination to the driver. You would return to the hotel, spend the night there, and come morning you would catch your flight back to Winnipeg. After that, you hoped you’d never have to see Luc again. What he had done to you, in your mind, was unforgivable, and it sent you into tears as you sat alone in the back seat of the taxi cab. 

Act 3. 

It was the ring of the courtesy call that woke you up the morning after the wedding. Your flight was in a mere few hours, your checkout time dawning on you, and you couldn’t have been happier. The sooner you got home, the sooner you could try to forget what happened. You had tried to forget it already, but as you threw back your blanket, and swung your legs over the side of the bed to place your feet flat on the ground you were met by the biggest reminder of the mistakes you had made when agreeing to go to Montreal. 

On the floor, draped under a decorative throw blanket, was Luc. 

A sigh so heavy that you almost groaned rocked you. He sure had some balls to come back to the hotel room after what happened the night before. You had made it quite clear that you were less than impressed with him, and what he did. Surely he had to know the severity of his deceit. That it had not only been cruel to you but to his ex as well. The manipulation and the lies-

You stopped yourself midthought, your eyes falling to where he slept on the floor so peacefully. If he had come all the way out here playing pretend with you just to win his ex back, why was he here in the room? 

It was a question you tried to ignore as you quietly changed into a pair of leggings and a sweatshirt to wear on the flight home. And one you pushed further into the back of your mind as you took a quick inventory of the hotel room bathroom to make sure you hadn’t left anything behind. 

You shouldn’t care to know why he was there. But you did care enough not to let him miss his flight - or well, be the reason he missed it. Grabbing your packed back you nudged Luc in the back with your sneaker-clad foot on the way to the door. You didn’t greet him with pleasantries and instead met him with the same harshness he heard from you the night before. 

“Get up asshole, you’re going to miss your flight,” you stood in the doorway long enough to watch Luc wake up in a panic. The last thing you saw on your way out the door was his hand lurching out to grab his watch to check the time. 

You left him behind, your suitcase rolling in your wake as you followed the same route out of the hotel as you did the night before. You waved to the bellhop in the lobby, your smile a little weaker this time, and instead of meeting a town car, you found a vacant taxi and loaded your luggage into the back seat with you. 

“Trudeau International Airport, please?” You asked of him with a sigh, your head leaning back against your seat. 

You could have fallen asleep there, your eyes falling shut as you heard the turning signal of the cab begin its rythmic tick as he tried to merge into busy traffic. It was almost soothing, hypnotic, but it was broken by the abrupt opening of the back door. 

Your eyes opened quickly, your body lurching defensively away from the door as your heart raced, startled. Your lips parted to yell at the idiot who didn’t see that the cab was already occupied, but you were met with the familiar face of Luc. You wanted to be relieved at the sign of him, but your disgust continued to bubble deep inside your gut. You couldn’t even bring yourself to tell him to fuck off and find another taxi. Instead, you sat in silence, your gaze leaving him and looking out the window to fixate on the buildings as they passed. 

To your relief, Luc didn’t say a single word the entire ride to the airport. Not did he try to carry your bags when you arrived. Instead, he merely followed in your wake, until you came to the check-in counter. It was there you decided to let him go first. 

It was an innocent thing. Something he didn’t even question as he checked in for the flight. A first-class seat that would take him back to Winnipeg. And he even lingered afterward, waiting for you to check in as if it had been a show of good faith. But in reality, it was the only way you could ensure you wouldn’t have to sit with him on the flight home. 

“I was wondering if you had any other seat available?” You spoke to the airline representative who met you with a perplexed expression. 

Luc wore one of the same, your name leaving his lips as if to beg you to change your mind. 

You weren’t going to. 

“There’s nothing else in first class,” the representative told you as if it were going to change your mind. 

“Something in economy will do just fine,” you assured them with a nod, your grip on your bag growing tighter and you didn’t ease up on your grasp until the updated ticket was in your hands and you were ready to board. 

There was a relief in going home. A relief in being able to spend the flight alone, but it wasn’t without one last attempt from Luc. He spoke your name so softly, so gently, that for a moment you considered listening to him. You hesitated in place, your eyes raising to meet his as he reached out for your arm. He gripped it carefully, not too hard, just enough to keep you in place. Just enough to assure that you would listen to what he had to say. 

“I made you this,” Luc spoke slowly, his free hand raising to show you his phone screen. On it, Spotify was open for you to see, a playlist labeled i’m sorry the only thing you could see. It was a playlist of twenty or more songs, you wouldn’t quite see, and want to get close enough to see. “Listen to it on the flight home?”

Your eyes stared at it for a moment, your tongue parting your lips to lick over them slowly as your mouth went dry. “I’ll think about it,” was all you could offer him before you pulled out of his hold and stepped aside. First class was boarding, and you were in his way. 

Luc lingered for a moment more, his eyes fixated on you until he let out a defeated sigh and left you standing alone waiting to board. It would be some time before you were called to board, yet you stood, lingering where he left you. It was there, waiting for your call to board that curiosity got the best of you. 

Your thumb stroked over your phone screen, bringing it to life with its light and pulling open Spotify with the click of a single button. There, you found Luc’s profile and the playlist he had made for you. Twenty-five songs. 1 hour, 30-plus minutes long. It had artists you knew, and others you didn’t. Songs that were your favorite, and some you didn’t even know what they would sound like. It wouldn’t last the entire flight, but it would kill time, and maybe it would help you understand. 

Quickly you downloaded the list, and when you boarded the plane and found your seat, you pressed play. 

Kiss Her You Fool. 

Take Me to Church. 

Where Do We Go From Here?

Now or Never. 

They were just a handful of the songs Luc had compiled onto the playlist for you. The playlist you had listened to from start to finish, and then started again before you had landed in Winnipeg. It had taken you through a rollercoaster of emotions. You smiled. You laughed. You cried. And it left your heart heavy in your chest as you collected your bag and made your way out to hail a cab. 

You did not completely understand what Luc was trying to say with the song he put together. Some confused you. Others gave you hope. But what you did know, was that you owed him an apology. 

You fumbled with your belongings and your phone as you stood on the platform, taxis waiting for their next passenger in front of you, as you began to dial his number. You were halfway through it when the long honk of a horn drew your eyes up, and you found Luc leaning against his car, waiting for you. 

“What are you doing-” you started, your ace blanketed with confusion as you began to take slow, cautious strides toward him. 

He had reached through the driver’s side window to honk at you before rounding to stand at the hood of his car. Arms crossed over his chest, his tattoos on full display as he left his sweatshirt and back in the backseat of his car. 

“I owe you a ride home,” he told you simply. It had always been the plan, but you hadn’t intended to take him up on it after what had happened. 

“I think you owe me a little more than that,” you told him, trying not to smile as you tossed your phone at him. 

He caught it effortlessly, the screen on, and displaying his playlist. 

Luc smiled. 

“You listened to it?”

“I did.”

“And?”

“Explain,” was all you told him. 

“You’re my best friend,” he said your name, and it oozed with the pain he felt for the pain he caused you, “I didn’t do any of this to hurt you. I invited you because… Well,” he sighed,  “because you’re right. I’m a shitty person. The break up a few months ago, was because of you. She didn’t like how close you and I were. She wanted me to distance myself from you, and that wasn’t something I was willing to do. Then she gave me the ultimatum. You or her. And I chose you.”

A lump formed in your throat, you swallowed it back and held your breath. 

“When I invited you. My intentions weren’t the best. I wanted to mess with her, and that was wrong for me to do. Not just to her, but to you too. But I’m glad I did-”

“Luc-” you gasped out, both in shock at his words and his lack of regret for his actions. 

“I’m not finished,” he cut in, “I’m glad I did because playing pretend with you, fuck, it wasn’t just pretending.” Luc stepped away from the car, and you were frozen in place, watching him as he approached. Your bag slipped from your hold, falling to the ground as your hands reached out to welcome his body as he stepped so close to your own as he took your head in his hands and drew you in so close to his lips you could feel his words in a hot breath against your skin, “Because I’m in love with you. I have been for a long time.”

It wasn’t much of an apology, but it was the explanation you asked for. It wasn’t what you expected to hear, but you liked hearing it. It made you smile as you reached up, your hands finding the nape of his neck and knitting in his hair as you drew him in for a kiss. 

You loved him too. 

[meowsforyujin]

“I can’t keep doing this” Yang Jeongin ff

Jeongin x fem reader

(Warnings!! Contains: fluff, smut, angst, fwb, best friends to lovers, spanking, demeaning talk, fingering, jealousy)

The feeling of rejection was all too familiar to you, but this one hurt. It’s the FIRST time you’d found someone that piqued your interest other than the man you were hopelessly in love with, but could never be with. 

Lucky for you, you had good friends. One of your closest friends, sophie, decided you invite you to the club with her other friends. 

“The best way to get over being rejected is to act like a total slut and spend the night in someone else's sheets.” 

You decided to invite your best friend Jeongin, who also happens to be your current “fuck buddy”. 

“That way we can both finally find someone that isn’t each other.” was the hardest message to send in your life, but it was your idea anyway. 

Jeongin had been your best friend since middle school, always doing everything together. You and Jeongin were not very popular romantically, to say the least. You both went through the entirety of high school single, no first kiss, no first date, no intimacy, nothing. Until one day, 6 months ago you were both drunk and decided to be each other's first. It was quick to become a pattern, sex with your best friend. The sex was great, great, that’s not the problem. The problem is you’re hopelessly in love with him. That's why this most recent rejection hurt more than usual, it was the only person you actually liked other than jeongin, and that's a problem.  

—time skip—

Jeongin regrets coming immediately. You looked so fucking hot and he couldn’t do anything about that. Tonight’s sole purpose was so that he WONT fuck you. But you’re making it so hard. He shouldn't be mad, he really shouldn't. But you flirting with a guy that wasn't him made his blood boil. The way you smiled when you laughed, that was something he didn’t want ANYONE to cherish other than him. He didn’t want to share. 

.

.

.

You yelp feel your arm being grabbed harshly. 

“Let’s go y/n, were leaving.” 

“Jeongin! What the fuck is your problem?” You try to pull your arm away. 

It's embarrassing how fast you feel your arousal creep up on you when he turns around and gives you a furious look. In that moment you decided it wasn’t worth arguing, not with that gorgeous stupid fucking face of his. 

“Mind telling me what this is about?” You didn't dare look at him.

Jeongin laughed and his grip on the steering wheel tightened. 

What was this about? What WAS his problem? He doesn’t know. 

“Just keep that pretty mouth of yours shut until we get home.”

You walked after him, slowly and nervously. You had absolutely no idea what was in store for you.

“Go strip and get on the bed, hands and knees.”

You blinked at him, frozen in your tracks. Sure, you and jeongin have fucked, LOTS of times, but not like this. He’s never demanded anything from you. You couldn’t complain, the arousal told you this was a good thing. 

You nodded at him before rushing to his bedroom, taking your clothes off as fast as possible. You got on your hands and knees like he asked, but it was so so so nerve wrecking. You were so exposed, you weren’t used to it. 

“I fucking knew it, look at you slut, soaking wet. Bet it wasn’t even for that asshole back at the bar hmm?”

You moaned feeling him smack your ass, something he’s also never done before. 

“Tell me y/n, who are you this wet for? Me or that dickwad from the bar?”

You whined as his hand made light contact with your throbbing cunt, shortly followed by another smack on your ass. 

“You, fuck. You jeongin.”

He hummed in satisfaction, pushing a finger into you. You were already a moaning mess, relishing how his long slender finger made you feel. When he added another one, you subconsciously began pushing back your hips, trying to meet his fingers pace. 

“You gonna cum for me? Like the slut you are?”  

You helplessly nodded, moans getting higher and higher pitched. 

“Say my name.” 

You didn’t have to even think before chanting his name over and over while you finished. It was easy. You forgot everything but him, and you finally had to go ahead to vocalize that. Something about this made your orgasm so much more pleasurable.

He left you with almost no time to come down from your high, before thrusting his dick into you. Your cries filled the room, begging for more. How couldn’t you? He hit you spot so so so deliciously perfect from this angle. 

“This is what you get for making me jealous baby, you should know better. You’re just mine, only mine. No one else can have you.”

You groaned into the pillows hearing his words, too lost in the pleasure to even register everything he was saying. 

–time skip–

You stared at the ceiling, watching the fan as your mind went wild. The things jeongin said just hours ago, finally starting to get to you. You turned to see sleeping jeongin, his arm wrapped around you still. Did he mean what he said? Surely he did because he was jealous of you and the other guy. But he shouldn’t have been. That was the point of going out. In fact, that was the point of this whole “relationship”. You two were simply just placeholders until you found someone else. But no one else wanted you, not even jeongin. He probably only brought you back because he couldn’t find anyone else. After all, you are always the last choice. 

Jeongin woke up to your sniffling, but didn’t find you next to him. Instead, he found you on the floor of the living room, curled up in a ball crying your eyes out. 

“Y/n? What’s wrong?” He went to hug you but you swerved away

“I can’t keep doing this jeongin.”

“You wha, what do you mean?” he searched your face for any kind of answer. Did you mean fucking? Or being friends? All he could tell was that he had never seen you this hurt before.

“I can’t do this to myself anymore, nobody wants me, not even you.”

“What are you saying? I never said that?”

“Save it jeongin. you only took me home because you couldn’t find another girl. I’m always the last option, and I don’t want to be that anymore.”

“Y/n, that’s not true.”

“No! I don’t want to hear it! I’ve been spending 6 whole fucking months trying to get over you, and NOBODY wants me. The rejections hurts. It’s taking a toll on me and I can’t do it anymore.”

“Get over me? What do you mean get over me?”

“Do you really want to know?” You stood so close to him he could see every color in your face from crying, he hated seeing you this sad.

“I’ve been in love with you since the beginning. I THOUGHT the first time we slept together it was because you felt the same way! Do you know how much it hurt? When you told me your “idea” ?”

his idea, the idea that you would sleep together to fill the empty voids you both had.

“I was just a void filler. Nothing else. I can’t do this to myself anymore Jeongin. ESPECIALLY when you send mixed signals by lying, “I’m only yours” and making me feel like MAYBE you wanted me the way I wanted you.” You rushed past him in attempt to leave, but of course, he stopped you.

“I wasn’t lying. And I never said I didn’t want you that way. I only came up with my dip shit ‘idea’ because I thought you only slept with me because you were drunk. I thought you’d be disgusted if you found out I had feelings for you, so I came up with that. Because it let me atleast get a hint of what it would be like to have you as mine. Maybe that’s selfish but I never thought I’d get a chance to experience the real thing.”

Tears were uncontrollably falling down your face, you didn’t want to believe him. What if he was lying? You don’t want to get hurt

“You’re lying, you just want me to stay so you can get your dick wet once in a while. You don’t love me.”

Jeongin eyes softened and filled with tears hearing you say that. How could he make you feel this way? Feel so unwanted.

“How could I not love you? Everytime I see you I feel all my troubles float away. Your smile is my favorite piece of art in the world. Your laugh is my favorite song in the world. I don’t want anyone else to get the privilege of hearing or seeing you ever. I want you all to myself. You’re the one person who knows me better than everyone else. You’re the only one I’d ever want to spend my life with. I love you so fucking much it’s insane, and no it’s not just to get my dick wet. I’d give up sex all together if it meant you’d stay.”

you nearly fell to the floor. You must’ve been dreaming. Jeongin never used words like this, especially when it comes to feelings

“Please stay.” He held your hand with pleading eyes.

It took one slow nod and his face lit up, like he was never even sad in the first place. He pulled you into a warm hug, placing a light, loving kiss on your forehead.

—time skip—

It’s been 2 months since you and jeongin started dating, and you swear you’ve never been happier. You basically live at his place. Most of your clothes are there, much to his dismay. (He’d rather you wear his clothes). To your surprise, jeongin and you didn’t have sex for a month. When you asked him why, he said it was because he wanted to assure you he didn’t just want you for that reason. You felt like melting on the spot from his sweetness, you loved him so much.

Sometimes you and jeongin lie awake at night staring at the ceiling fan, entangled in each other’s arms and just talk. Jeongin often said in times like those that you both were meant to be, there was never anyone else.

“Also, there’s something I should tell you..”

“Yes what is it jeongin?”

“Well, it’s not like nobody ever wanted you…I just threatened everyone to stay away from you or I’d put them in the hospital.”

“YANG JEONGIN YOU WHAT?!”

[formerlycookierunauprompts]

Just saying but when Goldie disappeared the first time, the (pre-corrupted) ancients didn't mind at first because she became a shut in for the past few months until it started getting worrisome. She wouldn't answer the letters Eternal Sugar sent her anymore, Silent Salt and Mystic Flour wouldn't find her strolling about in her favorite places anymore. Burning Spice, though his interactions with her are slim, he never saw her anywhere or interacting with other cookies. The final nail in the coffin happened once Shadow Milk knocked on the door... Only for nothing to answer. The door to her workshop opens eerily... It's empty, devoid of life that thrived within the toys and dolls she used to make... Her equipment haphazardly tossed aside and abandoned... Dust hanging still in the air as it hadn't been cleaned in years, her books of research and design untidy and strawn about her work desk.

A few months go by... They've practically given up. Shadow Milk claims he hasn't, but he's closing in on that line. It's like Golden Butter disappeared without a trace, but there has to be a clue indicating what happened to her, right? Dead or alive? Kidnapped? What happened to her dolls? He'll take any answer for disclosure... He needs to know.

So he wanders back to explore and look into the one place he hadn't checked thoroughly yet. Her workshop. It used to be a simple toy store until Goldie had decided to rebrand into robots and machines. She was always so frustrated that they weren't good enough even if they seemed to work flawlessly in his eyes... She was always so busy then... Yet she always had time for him and everyone else...

As he goes through boxes of either melted scrap metal and old porcelain doll parts, he wonders if Goldie would have minded him going through her stuff without permission... She never liked people going into the storage room after all. But... She's not here anymore, is she?

He's frustrated to say the least... She always had time to listen to him when he needed to de-stress... She was always here for him, even if she wasn't seen as relevant as the other ancients... So why wasn't he here when she needed him?!

In anger, he knocks over a stack of boxes, the contents of the cardboard containers spilling everywhere, packing peanuts and bubble wrap sprawled everywhere on the floor in a chaotic matter... Bolts and nuts shimmering in the faint moonlight that illuminated the dark room through the small skylight window... Shadow Milk, distraught by his own actions, already goes to fix the mess he's made from his tantrum... But something catches his eye... There, on a small stool beneath the window, is a small, glowing, golden box. Intricate patterns carved upon its exterior, magic almost radiating off of it...

Huh, wasn't that the box Goldie was working on weeks ago?

He walks closer to it, mesmerized. A jack in the box, maybe? It has a little crank attached to it.

His body slides down the wall, the moonlight shining down in him as he cradles the small box in his arms as he sits amongst metal scraps and package stuffing, staring down curiously at it. His hand slowly wanders to the crank, winding it a bit before letting go... And soon, he hears an all too familar lullaby. Faint, but it's enough to bring tears to his eyes...

As soon as the music stops... It slowly opens... And suddenly his surroundings are obscured by the bright glowing light within the box as a vortex literally sucks him inside.

Welcome to the Toybox Realm, Shadow Milk Cookie.

ANON, ANON I AM LOOKING AT YOU SO HARD RN/VPOS

I love this idea, Shadow Milk first finding the toy box inside of one of Goldie's old workshops... I also imagine that he makes a shrine/sancutuary sort of place for it in the woods so it can be kept safe from people who would want to steal or destroy Goldie's Creations(eventually also from him and the other beasts). Well, once he gets out of the toybox that is.

As for how his first visit goes...

....

AU Ficlet #3 - 💔

" ... huh?"

Those were his first words upon the sight of this new, almost toy-like world displayed before him. This, this wasn't real... right? Did that song put him to sleep? There was no way he'd been sucked into that box... and yet, he knew that that was the case.

But... how? Curiosity nagged at him, telling him to explore and discover all that he could about this peculiar, strange world. And yet, he'd already invaded Golden Butter Cookie's privacy by going through her workshop, would this be going to far? The box itself had screamed that it was made by Golden Butter Cookie, well, not literally but you get what he means.

But, of course, Curiosity killed the cat, and Shadow Milk was said cat. So he wandered forth through what seemed to be the buds of a town, taking a moment to take in how... yellow everything was. Of course there were other colors, but yellow was the dominant one. It was quite odd to walk through such a town without seeing a single cookie although...

But, he didn't have to wait long to see something.

" Intruder discovered!" A squeaky voice shrieked, causing Shadow Milk to whip around in surprise to come face to face with... a doll? A cookie? he... couldn't really tell what it was, but it was pointing at him, menacingly. " Defense Doll Squadron, initiate containment measures!"

What the hell does containment measures mean-

He quickly got to find out what that meant when an entire legion of dolls( cookies? he still couldn't really tell but they felt like dolls) tackled him to the ground. He hit the floor with a grunt, squirming under the surprisingly formidable force of the dolls.

" Augh! Get... off of me!" He yelped, rather helpless against them. It wasn't that he couldn't free himself, rather, he didn't want to tear the dolls. He could tell that Golden Butter Cookie had made them.

It would be rather rude to hurt what she'd made, no? So he was rather helpless here.

" Thyme, please tell your squadron to lay off the intruder." A voice cut through the struggle, a painfully familiar voice. The dolls clamored off of him, all with a resounding ' yes mistress!' preceding their exit. He struggled still to lift his gaze, gazing into the familiar face of someone unfamiliar.

" Golden... Butter Cookie?" Shadow Milk began cautiously, looking at the unfamiliar sight before him. Golden Butter's eyes looked... dull, and she changed out her light and fun more Magical Girl-esque outfit for something more... sophisticated yet burnt. It also looked like her hair had melted a bit as well, yet her hat remained the same... mostly. " Is that... really you?"

Golden Butter Hesitated, he couldn't tell what exactly she was feeling behind the dull expression she was showing. He could see a sadness within her though, some kind of... despair he couldn't imagine. " ... Shadow Milk Cookie..." She murmured out, almost in disbelief.

" Where have you been?" He immediately question her with concern after picking himself up. " Have you been here this entire time? We've all been worried about you! You stopped responding to Eternal Sugar's letters, Silent Salt and Mystic Flour never saw you around your favorite places- you just... disappeared!" He exclaimed, his voice taking upon a worried tone.

She didn't say anything, just a simple nod of her head as she turned away. " I was worried about you too, you know?" He said to her, a frown upon his lips as he stared at her form. He noticed a certain... tiredness in the way she held herself, lacking the energy she once showed prior to her disappearance. She'd always seemed so bright, her smile shimmering like the golden sunlight as she enthusiastically talked about her creations.

And yet, that light seems to have dimmed. How could he have not noticed before? Had he been too ignorant? Too self-absorbed? He couldn't deny he'd been occupying himself with his works lately but...

but...

[yourmomsgranddad]

— 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐆𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐘 𝐈𝐍 𝐌𝐘 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃 𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍 𝐘𝐎𝐔'𝐑𝐄 𝐀𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐃

— CHAPTER FOUR: HUG ME! Bring it in!

— SUMMARY: Falling back into old patterns make new feelings arise.

— WARNINGS: none!

— A/N: I promise the post time I have written down is 7:30, but I literally suck at time. But hey, A for effort. At least this one is on Saturday.

It didn't take long for you two to go back to being best friends. Kate figured it would take months and she would have to work at it for a while. But you two loved each other, you couldn't stay away.

She would come see you at your job, her mom's office, you two would get on her nerves and then go back to her apartment.

Sometimes you would lay on her bed and talk about everything under the sun.

You told her about your summer you spent in Italy, she was envious. She very easily told you about how she worked with Hawkeye, aka Clint Barton, you were proud.

And eventually, the sun would come up and you both would fall asleep.

You would fall asleep first and Kate would find herself watching you as your chest went up and down, seeming so serene in her place. You hadn't been in New York for long and you were already comfortable in her apartment.

Kate was bouncing off the walls.

She kept thinking about you in a different way and was very confused. She kept staring at you, memorizing all the dips and bumps on your face. At this point, she could draw you perfectly from memory.

She wanted to do something, kiss you, something. She didn't have the guts but it's not like you hadn't kissed before.

She kept thinking she could do it, you came pretty close a couple times. But something always stopped her. Closet guy. He wasn't just a shameful make out at a party, you were kind of serious about him.

You were always either texting him or talking about him.

He was basically your boyfriend and Kate was basically jealous.

She didn't want to be. She had just gotten you back and she didn't want to lose you because of some stupid feelings that probably weren't even real. That's what she kept telling herself.

So she never made a move.

It was better this way.

Falling into old habits, it also meant you had to learn about the new ones as well.

"Since when do you like lemonade?" Kate wondered. You were standing in her kitchen, mixing together the lemony beverage.

"Since I tried it at a party a while ago and got obsessed with it."

As long as she's known you, you hated lemonade. You always called it the sourest piss. Every time you drank it, you got sick to your stomach and wanted to pull your organs out. What changed?

As she watched you down two full glasses of lemonade, her stomach was rumbling. She needed a snack.

She reached behind her in one of her tall cabinets and pulled out a bag of chips.

"Since when do you like hot chips?" Your face crumpled, now you were the one that was confused and it showed.

"Since I got covid and my taste got messed up." She shrugged, going back into the bag with the worst red fingers you had ever seen.

Kate was a dirty kid, she loved getting in mud and jumping into fountains when she wasn't supposed to. But one thing she hated was eating with her hands. They were never clean and she didn't want to get sick. She always hated the red fingers. Why did she like them now?

You two were sitting in silence, watching The Proposal and suddenly, you had nothing to say to each other. Non-stop talking for days and you ran dry.

"What happened to us?"

That was a loaded question. There was so many answers and you were not ready for any of them.

"We grew up, Y/n. Once you grow, your tastes change." And that, right there? A loaded answer. It's like she had to tiptoe around what she could say around you. You were best friends, why did she have to?

She wanted to ask you so many things but she didn't want to open Pandora's Box. Not yet.

But she didn't. She stayed silent for the first time ever in her life. And suddenly your hangouts were no longer fun.

No more messing around in the office.

You were more quiet and you never really told Kate anymore things about yourself, and what you been doing. Kate didn't really recount her tales as Hawkeye anymore.

You were losing each other once again even though you were right next to each other.

And all because Kate didn't want to talk.

You felt cramped in Kate's apartment. You wanted to go somewhere else, so you suggested going for a walk in the park.

She agreed, mostly because it wouldn't be as awkward to not talk to each other if you were in an open space, surrounded by other people.

But it didn't help that it was cherry blossom season. Just walking down the walkway with the flowers falling around you, it was way too romantic for Kate's liking. It was stressful.

And you were suddenly in your element, already blending with the fauna. Great.

It was gorgeous and this was not helping her crush right now. Yeah, crush, that's what she's calling it. She figured it would go away since you two were barely talking but it was only getting worse.

You were getting tired so you decided to sit down and enjoy the flowers from the seated position.

"Do you remember when we snuck out of our houses to go to the park and catch fireflies?" Like it was yesterday, Kate thought as she looked up seeing the tale unfold before her eyes once again.

"Y/n! Come on!"

"No Kate! What if we get in trouble?"

"You're such a dweeb! Come on!" She was basically pulling you with all of her 10 year old might. You were almost out of the door and your whining was about to get you caught.

Eventually, she got you out of the door and you sprinted to the park.

As soon as you got there, you forgot all about the guilt you were feeling from leaving. The bugs looked like little lanterns, floating in the sky. You almost didn't want catch them, they looked happy.

And so did Kate.

Sneaking out was worth it.

"Back when things were easy."

"Back when you were around more." Kate felt bad for mentioning it but suddenly it was bothering her. Why did you have to leave? So she decided to ask.

"Why'd you leave?"

You looked down, trying to focus on the leaf that was tickling your shoe at the moment. You really didn't want to tell her.

"Are you sure you want to know? You might not like it."

Everything paused. Was she completely sure about this? Once she knew, she couldn't unlearn it. Could it be super horrible? No. She wanted to know. It's been too long.

"Tell me."

[salamanderinspace]

So tests came back and I do have "mild" sleep apnea, doc says, which apparently means I stop breathing 15 times per hour, and my pulseox goes down to 86. This all sounds pretty bad to me but I've been assured it's mild. At some point the cpap people are going to call me; I guess I get a free trial of the thing for 90 days. I'm pretty pleased about that.

I've been keeping busy this week, working a lot. I've gone to some museums and galleries, talked a lot, made connections. I have a show with my work opening Saturday night here, downtown. I'm making new work too, pretty furiously. It turns out I function very differently when there are not five dog walks and two dog feedings and constant dog "pay attention to me mommy" all day long. At first there was a sort of euphoria as the weight of all that came off my shoulders. Of course I do miss her. I cried so much when she passed that my electrolytes got all messed up and I had a seizure. I'm kind of expecting changes, health-wise, since my daily schedule is so different now. I can really get immersed in work. I can eat a big meal and then sit a few minutes without having to rush off and do the dog. I worry about losing any strength conditioning or fitness I might've gained from walking her, so I've added in more exercises. Overall though my attention span feels so much stronger than it was, now that I can actually make my own plans and do them without being responsible for a very social creature. And the cat is there when I want someone to fuss over.

And husband of course. He's a brick. There are many ways we make good partners. There is only one little piece of me that doesn't quite fit with him, that he doesn't particular want or need anyway. About a month ago I wrested that piece of me away from a place it has not been safe. I don't know if anything is changed, really. I don't like to write about her here because I know she reads this blog sometimes--seems tacky--but I write my feelings here for a reason. I like having a record. It makes things feel more solid. It makes me less alone with everything. And it being all in one place, organized, is helpful. Often I write things elsewhere and then find them, months later, completely having forgotten about them. Not this blog though.

One of the main diagnostic criteria of autism is adhering to rigid routines or repetitive thought patterns. This is not something I associate with me. I love adventure and change and challenge and pizzazz and variety and novelty. I need everyday to be different--I don't even like to eat the same foods. But with relationships, they sort of sink into me and stain deep. Maybe the impetus to write fanfiction comes from that same, "I'm not done with this yet" sort of feeling. Maybe it's a reluctance to trust something new. Most people don't let the deepest part of themselves adhere to just anything, just anyone… I feel like I pick people who are sometimes nice and sometimes mean. Complex. Disorganized. Skeptical. Intense. And overtime the niceness drains away as they come to understand and process who I really am. (just some guy.) (Just a lady.) (Pretty good at art and creative stuff.) (Incurably American.) (Paranoid millennial.) (Used to have a dog.) (Interested in science and politics.) (Chronically ill.) (Sleepy, but maybe that will change when they put the machine on my face.)

[petite-ursus]

With my birthday next week (eeee!) I finally managed to get some journaling done. 7 pages and I only got a fraction of the summer onto paper. So many wonderful and strange and exciting things have happened the last few months... it's just so difficult to sum it up.

I've mentioned there's a part of me that wishes I was at a point where I felt safe to be emotionally available... to really put an effort into dating again... but I think because it has been such a whirlwind summer with Options At Hand I just keep forgetting how little time has past since the ex finally got out of my house.

It was less than a year ago that I was waking up every morning literally drenched in sweat. I was still being touched when I didn't want it. I wasn't being allowed to sleep through the night. I was anxious and scared, sad and lonely in a way I've never experienced before, and honestly it feels so surreal now.

I'm sure the ex has been madly in and out of love at least twice in the time it has taken me just to feel okay again... that's who she is, and I don't view that as a flex. Still, there is a part of me that wishes I could have snapped back even half so quickly and that I had a wonderful gorgeous partner on my arm to validate to the world that I'm Good... that's just not where I am.

She terrorized me. Threw my furniture. Screamed at me. Took over my bedroom and wrecked my sleep. Wouldn't get out of my house, and made the place I loved most into a palace of eggshells. She intentionally made me doubt my judgement, made me feel small and unsure... and yeah, I've spent the last year recovering the self she saw and wanted to have, if not love. Excavate her from the wreckage. Whatever.

I've said it before and I'll say it again... I'm still afraid. Not of her, because she has no access to me... but of what I allowed, and could allow again. Hindsight is 20/20 and I see now how she was like a copy paste in a lot of ways of other people I've loved. The difference of course being that while those relationships were rocky they were based in mutual love. I've been mulling on what a difference that makes... What habits that allows to form. They all had these similar through lines, but with her it was a more dangerous iteration because she wanted to possess me as someone she saw value in... but never actually loved me as a person. Being with her forced me confront some very real relationship patterns of my own, without that glammer of love to make the acts of violence less damning. Who I choose. Why I choose them. The full depth of the harm choosing people like that can do to me. I want to believe that now, having been through that I'll make different choices. I know even as I'm browsing the apps I'm doing it differently than I did before... but people lie, and I don't want to enter my next relationship with my guard all the way up. There's only so much I can do, and then I have to trust another person...

I still can't imagine letting anyone into my home again. I don't know if that's something I'll ever be able to do.Though I hope I say this like a character in a book who doesn't know she's going to be living with the love of her life in 5 chapters(years.)

Two weeks ago was one of the first times since she destroyed the peace I found in my home, where I looked around and said, "Oh I love it here," again. The animals are all happy and healthy, the string lights and plants and all my rocks and decorations make my heart sing. There's no mess and no clutter. I think, maybe now that I have a landing space again... a real refuge again that doesn't feel just like... a place where something terrible happened, with gaps in the furniture and wall decorations where my things were removed to make space for her... maybe now I can get there, to a place where I can let someone else in... but man... tldr, I really just need to give myself a break and let it happen when it happens. It was so so bad. I've had such a wonderful year by comparison that the edges of my memory have softened and made me feel like I should be "back at it," with the life goals that involve another person... but like so bad my actual health deteriorated and I was literally in the hospital. It is OK that it is taking time (LESS THAN A YEAR) to process it all and heal from it. SHOULDERS take more time to fully heal than that sometimes.

Life is so long. There is so much time.

And also, as an aside... I've been rolling around in my head what a surprise blessing it is that in seeing how unloved I was in this last relationship I'm able to find real love in my past relationships where I'd been unsure of it before, because it was so clearly there by comparison. Not that I'd go back to these other people, not that it changes any of the things that were/went wrong, but to know that even if I wasn't loved well... I was loved... That's valuable to me. That's a gift I wasn't expecting.

[quollstar]

Devil in Disguise; ch1

michael (the good place) x reader

warnings: this is a pairing between you and unreformed demon michael, aka before the team cockroach storyline, aka he's evil and mean. what can i say. be mindful that he's going to call you names and stuff so if that makes you upset be careful reading!

notes: there isn't too much actual plot here. basically reader/you are a fifth member of the group of humans michael is torturing. this is somewhere reboot like 300 or something. this work does include use of "Y/N"!

You were pretty sure the Architect was a demon.

It wasn't an easy conclusion to come to. Not at all. And you definitely didn't want to think that, not when you had previously believed you were in Heaven, and believing anything else meant that you were definitely in Hell. He wasn't particularly obvious, either, so long as you weren't looking. He played the part of the helpful, well-meaning, a-little-bit-clueless Architect so well that you wondered if it was a part at all.

Then the mask would slip for just a moment. He would say something so cruel that he had to have known it was hurtful, or he'd smile to himself when he shouldn't and he thought no-one was looking; but you were always looking. Really, your stupid crush on him was the only reason you suspected him at all, because you always wanted to be near him, and thus were always there for his slip-ups.

A few misplaced grins could be excused (he didn't know a lot about humans or social norms after all) but after a while it was a pattern. Maybe you only started looking because of your past experiences with manipulative liars on Earth, or maybe you never really believed you were in The Good Place at all; but either way, it seemed like you were the only one with any suspicions. So you started keeping a mental list of everything he did that just seemed off. Eventually it got so long that you couldn't excuse it. He wasn't what he seemed, and one day, you decided you were going to confront him about it.

So now, here you were. You'd asked if you could speak to him privately and he had obliged, looking equal parts confused and concerned as he ushered you into his office. The place was familiar from when you'd first 'woken up' here, been told where 'here' was, and that you'd made it and now you could enjoy your afterlife. It had been perfect until it wasn't, and you didn't like being forked around with, thank you very much. You tried to hold on to that energy as you passed through the hallway ("Welcome! Everything is fine." Yeah, right.) and took your seat in front of his desk.

Still, sitting across from him now, you started to doubt your suspicions again. You'd always been a paranoid person on Earth; wasn't it possible that you were just thinking too far into things again? And maybe he was just an idiot; maybe he didn't understand how to be nice to people yet. You'd known plenty of actual humans who still didn't grasp that concept, so really, shouldn't he get a pass?

But then you remembered your list; all the times he had laughed when Eleanor would trip, and then tried to cover it up with a cough; all the times he'd backhandedly called Tahani a failure to her face and she'd had to hold back tears; all the times he had oh-so-conveniently forgotten to mention that, by the way, there would be fun, new things involved today, even though he knew Chidi hated not knowing things like that beforehand. Given as the neighborhood had only started five months ago, there was no explanation for just how many times he'd managed to mess up, unless the reason was that he was trying to mess up.

So you'd set your jaw, even as the perfectly realistic look of concern on his face stayed, and he'd tented his hands under his chin and asked you, "What can I help you with?" He looked so much like a not-man afraid of learning that his resident was unhappy that it nearly made you waver again (Fork, he was good at that) but you held strong.

No point in beating around the bush. "This isn't The Good Place."

"I beg your pardon?"

"This is The Bad Place, and you're a demon."

He froze for just a second too long before knitting his eyebrows and slowly blinking once, twice, all the while still staring at you with very apparent shock.

Finally he spoke, calm as ever, aside from the note of surprise in his voice. "Why would you think that?"

You couldn't believe he was still committed to the bit, but then again, you didn't really expect him to throw up his hands and say, 'you got me!'.

You huffed. "There's a lot of reasons, man, but how about we start with my biggest one: you're kind of an ash-hole."

He didn't speak, just kept looking at you (rather uncomfortably), so you filled the silence for him.

"You're constantly condescending in a way I could excuse at first 'cause, hey, you're not human, but then you go and keep pushing everyone's buttons even though, realistically, you should know what's a sore subject- because you know everything! You're mean to Tahani and Jason, you're always putting Eleanor in stressful situations, you're downright cruel to Chidi, and that leads to my next point: you're never not around the five of us. Like, don't you have other residents?"

You paused to give him a chance to offer a rebuttal (and catch your breath), but he stayed quiet. In fact, his face had shifted to one of mild boredom over the course of your rambling, and you balked at him incredulously.

"You don't have anything to say? 'Cause I can keep going, I have a whole list–"

"To be honest, I'm just surprised you actually figured it out."

You mirrored his expression from before, blinking at him slowly.

He sounded completely different, like he'd undergone a total tonal 180°. Not only was his voice different, he looked a lot more sinister now, having finally dropped the mask of concern. His brows were raised over his glasses and his mouth was a flat line, and though he was in the same pose as before, now his tented hands looked devious rather than accommodating. His eyes were half narrowed behind the lenses, looking right at you unwaveringly.

The change was enough to shock you into silence for the time being. To be honest, even though you were pretty confident in your theory when coming here, you'd almost wanted to be wrong. Maybe he would have laughed at you good-naturedly, or asked you if you were feeling alright, then said something to explain his behavior; something that would quell your fear beyond all doubt. You'd have a conversation with him about treating your friends better (he'd say something like, "I'm so sorry, I had no idea!" and it wouldn't be a lie) and you'd be able to go back to enjoying your afterlife, now with a more open relationship between all of you and the Architect overseeing your paradise.

That would have been great, but obviously, it would never happen. He'd confirmed your fears rather than assuage them, and now you were sitting in a small room with a not-man you now knew to be a demon. One that had been torturing you this entire time. One that was watching all of this dawn on your face with a budding grin on his own.

You swallowed, then cleared your throat, trying not to look at his mouth. You were pretty sure his teeth looked sharper now than before, and you didn't want to think about that. Instead you spoke, forcing your tone to remain even and unconcerned. "So, I am right? You're… this is all just an elaborate torture scheme?"

"Yeah, dummy, and to be honest, you took a lot longer to figure it out than I thought you would. If it were Jason, sure, I could excuse it, because that guy is so stupid," he cut himself off by laughing, an evil sort of chortle that didn't feel right coming from the Michael you knew. Though, you supposed, this wasn't the Michael you knew, but instead the one you'd caught glimpses of under the surface since getting here. And man, he was a lot meaner than you could have guessed.

He shook his head, giggles subsiding as he leveled you with an almost disappointed look. "But you? I really expected more from you at the start. I mean, in the hundreds of times we've been through this, this is the first time you've ever been the one to call me out!"

"I'm sorry, hundreds of times–?"

"Yes, hundreds. Each time one of you– it's just you five, by the way, you got that right too; everyone else is one of us– each time one of you figures it out, I just wipe your memories and we start over. Back to square one, as it were. It's great."

He grinned widely as he waved a hand, bringing up a sort of floating computer screen to his left. On it was a chart with a bunch of lines marking different restarts, if you had to guess; some no taller than an inch and a couple that stretched off the top of the screen. Most, though, seemed to hover around the same height, including the highlighted one at the very right. Your current timeline. Probably. To be honest, your head was still reeling from Michael's abrupt change in attitude, so you weren't feeling too sharp. In fact, you felt a little sick to your stomach.

Michael was still talking, gesturing to different points on the chart and explaining his favorite events in those timelines (apparently at one point, you'd been trapped inside a torture obelisk for a month which was– direct quote– "super fun") but you didn't hear much, or at the least you didn't comprehend what you were hearing. It was just too much information overload.

"–Hey, dummy, you look a little pale– you're not going to throw up, are you? Because as embarrassing as that would be for you, and how fun it would be for me, I don't really want to have to clean that up." He waved his hand in front of your face a few times until you focused back on him.

"Why are you telling me all of this?"

He sighed deeply, pinching the bridge of his nose beneath his glasses. "Obviously, because I'm going to restart again, so it doesn't matter. God, you really aren't bright, huh? I mean, in the very first version of this, Eleanor was already coming up with a plan to get ahead of me once I restarted it, and it only took her like a minute. It didn't work, of course, but at least she thought of something. You're just sitting there with your mouth open like an idiot." He snapped.

You couldn't really help it; you winced. His biting tone was a little too alike to all the shitty men you'd met on Earth, and if there was one thing you were excited for when you thought this was The Good Place, it was the unspoken promise that you'd never have to deal with that kind of man again.

Maybe it was even worse coming from him because you'd thought, at one point, that he was your friend. If not a friend then at least someone who had your best interests at heart. Even if it was never true, it still stung to have him sneer and call you an idiot.

Michael dropped the smirk, replacing it instead with a fake pout; pushing his bottom lip out mockingly. "Are you offended? No, don't answer that; I know you are. I hurt your fragile human feelings. Poor baby." He shifted forward, hands flat under his chin as he leaned on his elbows. The elegant desk wasn't big enough to keep him out of your space and you did your best to hold your ground even as he invaded your personal bubble. "I can see those tiny cogs turning– no, literally, I can see your brain move when you think, it's actually very gross… So what are you thinking about? What's your plan here; what's the play? Whatever you're thinking, let me tell you, it's not gonna work." Ending the mocking with another bout of wicked laughter, he watched you expectantly, condescending sneer back on his face now.

Refusing to back down, you stared back at him, trying to look unbothered even while your mind raced. All of this had been for nothing; all the ethics lessons with Chidi, getting to know your new friends (who were the only other humans here, apparently, so you guessed it was a good thing you'd never decided to hang out with anyone else); all of it was pointless because you were just going to do it all again. So, you figured, if none of this mattered, you could afford to act a little brash.

"What are you thinking?" Michael reiterated, calm as ever, wholly unworried. Why should he be?

"I'm wondering if demons can feel pain."

"Why–"

You cut him off when you punched him in the jaw. You had absolutely no idea what possessed you to do so; you were normally a non-confrontational person, but learning you've been forked with for months, maybe years when you count every stupid reboot, will do that to someone– make you more aggressive. It wasn't hard to do given how close he'd gotten while antagonizing you, but shirt, did it hurt like a bench.

You shook your fist out, wincing at the sting. Your knuckles would bruise for sure if given the time, but you had the feeling Michael was going to reboot you pretty soon, so that hardly mattered.

Focusing back on the demon you'd just socked across the face, you weren't too shocked to see that he'd hardly moved with the blow. His head had turned just a bit, and his glasses were slightly askew, but he definitely wasn't bruised or bleeding. For the most part, he seemed relatively unaffected.

Well, maybe 'unaffected' wasn't the right word.

Michael's expression made you wonder if he'd ever been hit before. The pure shock (and even a little bit of awe? Respect? You were probably hallucinating) on his face made you think that he probably hadn't, and it brought you some sick joy to think you might be the first to humble him like that.

You allowed yourself a victorious smirk as Michael slowly put himself back together; silent as he straightened and righted his glasses on his nose. "Has that ever happened in your hundreds of reboots?"

He regarded you in silence for long enough for your smirk to slowly melt as you were reminded that, oh, right, this is the demon in charge of literally torturing you, and maybe you should not have done that. To be fair to yourself, thoughtful decision making was never your strong suit, even when you were still alive. Even so, this was probably your worst one yet.

You refused to apologize, though; groveling would get you nowhere. Instead you lifted your chin and stared back at him as he lounged, calm as ever, head resting in one hand and legs spread– the picture of ease. Actually, regretfully, it wasn't the worst sight in the world, which was a forked up thing to think given everything about the situation you were in. But if thinking with your dick at the worst moments possible wasn't the most human thing imaginable, you didn't know what was. It's pretty much the only thing you can count on a person for.

"...No, Y/N, I can't say that anyone has ever been stupid enough to try something like that."

end of chapter one!

there currently is no chapter two, but i'm getting there. if you wanna read that when it goes up the link is here:

[evilterabyte]

I absolutely love my paradigm shift characters. By that I mean characters who, when put into a situation, can consistently not just respond effectively to that situation, but do so in a manner that turn its parameters on their head entirely.

For some this can be messing with the rules of reality, for others it can be introducing an element of chaos into play that puts everyone on equally uncertain footing, and for others still I can just be taking advantage of what's in front of them to stop their foes' plans in their tracks and force them to change their objectives significantly.

This comes up in combat a lot because I do a lot of combat, but it can also be a social situation thing, or even something on a larger scale that impacts the setting as a whole.

This I think ties in with the genre conventions of D&D and other RPGs that encourage similar stories through their design, as the players often end up a walking, collective paradigm shift. I don't think this is usually quite so intentional (it certainly wasn't for me individually until I realized the pattern recently) but when you do have a character or player in the group who does it on purpose, I think it feeds into the effects of the group as a whole and vice versa, creating a paradigm shift feedback loop[1] that results in wild shit happening.

The risk, of course, comes when the paradigm shifting happens at a cost to the collaborative nature of the game. I know I've in the past had to reign myself in or be reigned in by others, because my love for flipping the rules of what's happening on their head can at times trivialize any struggle. It's fine if this happens occasionally, but if it becomes too constant, it can make other players feel like their contributions matter less than those of the person who's constantly shifting the paradigm.

Let me give an example of a situation that could've exhibited this problem, but was prevented from doing so by solid encounter design. A few months ago in one of my games, the city we were in got assaulted by a horde of beats and monstrosities that had been driven mad and pushed in a specific direction by a magical plague. The first couple encounters weren't especially noteworthy, but the antepenultimate [2] one was largely nullified by my use of a well-placed spell. No problems there, everyone still got to contribute, all was fine and dandy.

The penultimate encounter came a little bit after, when a party member who'd been separated from the group came riding back to us at the head of a pride of lions they'd freed from the plague, while being chased by a collosal worm that could burrow through solid stone.

I had the clever idea to post up on a building in its path (with a party member who could teleport us out of its path if I failed because this character of mine likes to have redundancies) and, once it got within range, attempt to apply a fear effect, which would have left it unable to move closer to me. I made my attack, landed it, forced a saving throw, got really excited as it failed--oops! Legendary Resistance [3]! I was very melodramatic about this but I immediately understood the why of it and wasn't actually upset.

If I'd been able to apply the fear effect, I would have instantly nullified a major threat that had been seeded for an entire session, and had left another player with no recourse but to run away and try desperately to slow it down. I would've thus overshadowed them and also prevented the rest of the party from doing much at all besides wailing on an HP sponge until it died or ran away instead of us getting the really cool and dynamic combat we did end up getting (it got impaled on a 5 foot tall 60 foot diameter summoned tree and also swallowed our Druid. it's okay though I rescued them [4]).

Conversely, yesterday during a special dream arc, the half of our party that was present was being pursued by a Giant Red Dragon From Nowhere (tis the nature of dreams and random rolls). One of our number had done some clever stuff to get us a headstart, but the dragon had reached us again because Adult Reds go real fast.

Luckily, my character was mostly lucid, is a wielder of dream magic, and specializes in Inversion magic because of the whole paradigm shift obsession I have. As such, she proceeded to warp space around the dragon to Invert how directions worked, so as the dragon tried to move forward, its momentum carried it backward, far enough from us that we were able to hide in the alleyways of the city we were in and escape further trouble.

This situation had me successfully nullifying a major threat (this time one we couldn't hope to beat with only three people and had to run from) in one fell swoop, ending prematurely an encounter that might've multiple additional rounds for us to escape (and would've been Uh Bad if the dragon's fire breath had recharged).

However, this time, the encounter was not so important, had not been foreshadowed, did not involve an enemy that had been insurmountable for another player being potentially nullified by me, and had already involved the other characters contributing by the time I finished it.

All that [7] to say, as if I ever had an overarching point to this post to begin with, paradigm shifting to some extent needs to happen in moderation imo. I think nearly every game can benefit from someone who regularly flips the entire situation they're in on its head, but as in all things moderation is... a word I just used. I'm getting redundant which must be a sign I need to wrap things up.

Back to the point, if one person is nullifying encounters to regularly to the point that they overshadow everyone else, then there's a problem--just like how I wouldn't roll up to a game with my casual friends who enjoy light combat and pull out Grognard the Bugbear Ranger/Fighter who can output 24d6+5d8+30 damage on the first turn of combat at level 7.

I don't have a good way to end this and I really should eat. Bye [8]!

--

[1] Which feels like such a pretentious phrase* but listen. I'm in class presentations week, I'm running on four hours of sleep, and part of the thing that kept me up so late was incorporating into my project a paper I read about epistemological injustice in both testimonial and hermeneutic forms regarding Chronic Fatigue Syndrome/Myalgic Encephalomyelitis. Y'all are lucky I'm not worse rn. Also tbh I'm just a pretentious bitch in general so why not own it.

[2] Jesus fucking christ

[3] On the off chance the post gets even moderately big I'm sure someone will divert into criticizing the design of Legendary Resistances as a "lol no ur thing just fails" method of preventing encounters from being nullified, which I think is entirely fair but in this case I feel the LR served its intended purpose well and bear no ill will toward it.

[4] They later died due from complications though**

[5] I need y'all to know I came onto Tumblr to write and post literally the first sentence of what this became. Now it's an hour and a half later and I haven't napped or eaten. Help me.

[6] After I put a readmore on this and break up some of these paragraphs jesus christ.

* I'm now near the end of this thing and wow nevermind "paradigm shift feedback loop" is honestly pretty tame.

** It's fine they got resurrected thanks to an NPC sacrificing himself.

[luvvsisi]

Starter post PS rp.

It had been a crazy couple months, first Ansley and Endicott, covering up for her and dismembering the body, which he didn't even want to get started on how much he actually enjoyed it and how quiet his mind was during the whole thing. It was almost a relief when the case was officially closed and he had hoped for just a bit of a break to regroup but that was never in the cards for Malcolm Bright, it was always go, go, go, one crazy thing after another that would break him just that bit more. No rest for the wicked and all that. Now it was four inmates, including Martin running around causing who knows what kind of havoc and he would have been fine with just chasing them down and capturing them, but, another wrench, his father wasn't with them, another chink in the armor that was Malcolm's brain, though really he was sure it had to be made of aluminum instead.

It all came to a head when he was kidnapped, twice, became a criminal, again, and got away from almost being tortured, yet again...He was definitely not liking that pattern, but that was the least of his problems, right now he had finished tracking and capturing the Woodsman Killer and was now standing in the middle of the forest, dad bleeding out on the floor, bloody knife in his hand. It was Dani screaming his name that finally broke him. His brain taking over and telling his body to shut down and everything went black. He woke up a week later on a hospital, well, more like a fancy asylum for rich people, no doubt strong armed by his mother to allow him to be admitted. He went to run his eyes but found his arms and legs strapped to the bed. He groaned and let his head fall back onto the bed.

The moving around must have triggered something because a couple of nurses came in and started to look him over and running normal tests for someone who had just woke up.

"Can you tell me your name?" Asked one of the nurses. He tried to talked but his throat was dry and he let out a cough. A straw appeared next to his lips a second later and he took a couple small sips, automatically feeling better.

"Malcolm Bright" he said, rolling his eyes, even though he knew it was procedure, it was still annoying. The nurses looked happy though and he felt the restraints come off finally as he shifted a bit to get more comfortable, finally taking in his surroundings.

"How long was I out?" He asked.

"About a week...You were brought here and we couldn't wake you...The doctors figured you had a break and your body was protecting you...The doctor will be in shortly to answer any more questions" said one of the nurses before they walked out, leaving him alone with his thoughts and hopefully be able to actually sort through everything and get back to his 'normal' self.

"It just needs Gil's signature," Azalia spoke, sighing as she closed the file on the recently concluded case. Despite Gil being her father, she maintained a professional demeanor at work. Standing up, she walked over to Dani, concern etched on her face.

"Has anyone heard anything on Malcolm? I've been calling, but they won't answer me," she mumbled, glancing at her phone, perhaps unaware of her persistence.

JT, picking up the phone, broke the tension. "He's awake," he announced, hanging up as Azalia's attention snapped toward him. "If you hold on... or not," he added with a sigh, observing the girl leave the precinct. "She hated him like five months ago," he mumbled to Gil, grabbing his jacket and following the rest of the team.

Arriving at the hospital, Azalia wasted no time, signing the check-in sheet at the front desk. Swiftly locating Malcolm's room, she knocked twice, her relief evident as she entered. "You're awake," she said softly, placing her jacket on the chair. A light laughter escaped her lips as she watched the nurses tend to Malcolm. "I thought JT was messing with me."

Anxiously, she inquired, "Is he good? He's okay, right?" Glancing at the paper in her hands, Azalia sought reassurance about Malcolm's condition.

[luckycolor]

Yo, can you do tutorials on how to make hats like that?

(Referring to my jester-like hat in this post)

YEAH I CAN TRY, I'm gonna put it under a read-more cause it might be a little long 👍👍

OK SO first youre gonna find a sewing tutorial for a hood, cause that's the big base of the hat, I used this one:

(In the video, they use big thick fabric and also double layer it, I didnt do that, I just made mine out of a bed sheet I got from the thrift store👍) (I wouldnt really recommend using super flowy/stretch fabric though cause it could mess with the overall shape..but its really up to preference how you want it to look)

BUT there are lots of other hood styles out there, ones with bigger necks, bigger back parts, I'm pretty sure you can use whatever one you think would be cool. I'm pretty sure i modified the pattern of this one a little for mine to make it bigger, but I dont really remember cause it was a couple months ago

Anyways. Do the best you can, mine ended up a little wonky just cause im kind of inexperienced, but hey I think its fine :D

As for the little points on it, I made those by cutting out a cone pattern (you can pattern this out on paper beforehand, cones can be annoying but with enough tries you can find a shape you like), sewing it into a cone shape, and then sticking little styrofoams into it that I cut down to be cone-shaped as well 👍(that was very messy. i swear)

Depending on how you cut the foam, you can make the tips droop more, the styrofoam in mine is cut to fill the whole shape but i think next time i want them to droop more so I would cut them shorter

Hang on this next part might need a visual

AHHHHH WHEN DID MS PAINT UPDATE

anyways

This sucks i know i drew it with my mouse ok

So yea glue the cut ends onto the foam. Then comes the annoying part of attaching the points to the hood. So my method was, probably not the best out there, was this:

Be careful when taking the hood off once the point is pinned, it might get bonked out of place so be VERY gentle

...Actually I dont think i sewed down my points, I really mightve just hot-glued them. It's much easier than sewing them down, and theyve held so far, but if you want Super Secure ones then you can sew them down

Im sure theres easier ways to do that but Whatever :)

OK SO once the points are attached you can decorate as you please. Go nuts. I dont control you

I put bells on mine but you can do anything. Go wild

HOPEFULLY i didnt forget anything..I dont think i did, if you need clarification on anything let me know and ill try and explain it more. BUT YEA HAVE FUN

[caregiving-compass]

Overcoming Cancer-Related Fatigue

Hi there! I'm Molly, and I've been through a breast cancer diagnosis about a decade ago. One of the toughest parts wasn't just dealing with the disease itself, but also managing with the extreme tiredness that came with it. This tiredness is called cancer-related fatigue, and it's way more than just feeling sleepy. It's like your whole body is weighed down, making even simple tasks feel like climbing a mountain. I remember that walking across the room to the fridge from the couch felt like a miles long hike!

But here's the good news: there are ways to fight back against this fatigue and get your energy back. I want to share my story and some tips that helped me, hoping they might help you or someone you know who's going through this tough time.

What Cancer-Related Fatigue Feels Like

First, let's talk about what this fatigue really feels like. It's not like being tired after a long day at school. It's a bone-deep exhaustion that doesn't go away even after you sleep. Sometimes, it felt like my arms and legs were made of lead. Other times, it was hard to think clearly, like my brain was wrapped in fog.

This kind of fatigue can start during cancer treatment and last for months or even years afterward. It's frustrating because you want to do normal things, but your body just won't cooperate.

My Journey with Fatigue

When I first started feeling this intense tiredness, I thought something was wrong with me. Why couldn't I just "push through" like I used to? I felt guilty for being so tired all the time, especially when my family and friends were trying to help me.

But then my doctor explained that this fatigue was a normal part of having cancer and going through treatment. It wasn't my fault, and I wasn't being lazy. This helped me stop being so hard on myself and start looking for ways to manage my energy better.

Tips That Helped Me Cope with Fatigue

Here are some things that really helped me deal with cancer-related fatigue. Remember, everyone is different, so what worked for me might not work exactly the same for you. But I hope these ideas give you a good starting point:

Plan Your Day: I started planning my days around my energy levels. I'd do harder tasks when I felt most awake (usually in the morning for me) and easier stuff when I was more tired.

Short Rests: Instead of one long nap, I took short 15-30 minute rests throughout the day. This helped me stay more alert without messing up my night sleep.

Light Exercise: It sounds weird, but moving more actually gave me more energy. I started with short walks and slowly built up to longer ones. On days I exercised, I usually felt less tired overall.

Eat Well: Eating healthy foods gave my body the fuel it needed. I ate lots of fruits, vegetables, and lean proteins. I also drank plenty of water to stay hydrated.

Sleep Routine: I set up a bedtime routine to help me sleep better at night. I stopped using my phone an hour before bed and did calming activities like reading or listening to soft music.

Ask for Help: This was hard for me at first, but asking for help when I needed it was a game-changer. Whether it was help with chores or just having someone to talk to, support from others made a big difference.

Stress-Busting Activities: I tried things like deep breathing, gentle yoga, and meditation to help manage stress. Less stress meant more energy for other things.

Set Small Goals: Instead of getting overwhelmed by big tasks, I broke them into smaller, more manageable goals. Completing these gave me a sense of accomplishment and motivation.

Join a Support Group: Talking with others who understood what I was going through helped me feel less alone and gave me new ideas for managing fatigue.

Keep a Fatigue Journal: I started writing down my energy levels at different times of the day. This helped me spot patterns and plan my activities better. The Manta Planner is a great way to track symptoms like fatigue.

The Importance of Patience

One of the biggest lessons I learned was to be patient with myself. Overcoming cancer-related fatigue takes time. There were days when I felt great and days when I could barely get out of bed. I learned to celebrate the good days and be kind to myself on the tough ones.

Talk to Your Doctor

While these tips helped me, it's super important to talk to your doctor about your fatigue. Sometimes, there might be medical reasons for extreme tiredness that need to be treated differently. Your doctor can also give you personalized advice based on your specific situation.

You're Not Alone

Remember, if you're dealing with cancer-related fatigue, you're not alone. It's a real and challenging side effect of cancer and its treatment. But with the right strategies and support, it is possible to regain your energy and enjoy life again.

To anyone reading this who's going through cancer or supporting someone who is: you're stronger than you know. Take it one day at a time, be kind to yourself, and don't hesitate to reach out for help when you need it.

The Manta Cares team comprises cancer survivors, caregivers, and oncologists, offering a unique understanding of the challenges that come with a cancer diagnosis. They provide support throughout the cancer journey and are available to answer any questions. Their resources include a Chemotherapy Checklist for Caregivers and a Financial Checklist for Cancer Treatment, alongside a bi-weekly podcast called the Patient from Hell, which aims to educate and empower listeners. The podcast is available on Spotify, Apple Podcasts, YouTube, and other platforms. Dealing with cancer as a patient or caregiver can feel isolating, but the Manta Cares team ensures that no one has to face it alone.

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Disclaimer

All content and information provided in connection with Manta Cares is solely intended for informational and educational purposes only. This content and information is not intended to be a substitute for medical advice, diagnosis, or treatment. Always seek the advice of your physician or other qualified health provider with any questions you may have regarding a medical condition.

[neversilent]

separate but doll Chucky and Albert Shaw with a reader who��s highly childish/age regressive?

AS SOMEONE WITH AGE REGRESSION, ILYSM FOR THIS! OMG!! I'll do them separately in this post!

HAVING A PARTNER WITH AGE REGRESSION! (CONTAINS CHUCKY, AND THE GRABBER/ALBERT SHAW)

CHUCKY:

• Now, he hates kids.. but he doesn't mind if his partner acts just a little like one! He thinks it's absolutely adorable.

• He'll snicker almost every time you do something child-like. Clapping, hopping, or kicking your feet when you get excited is one he likes the most. You get so giggly and it warms his heart! He was a man who couldn't process love correctly at one point, so knowing he feels it for you every time you light up over something small? He adores it.

• He doesn't even hesitate when you want to carry him. He won't admit it, but he likes it when you do! He knows that carrying him around gives you a comforting feel, you dont even have to tell him. He can tell by your sudden happy demeanor, even if it looks childish to carry a doll everywhere you go.

• He mainly tolerates your sudden energy boots, especially when they happen with no warning. Especially late at night! He'll sit on the bed, watching you play a game by yourself, occasionally joining. Even though he's tired, and will complain almost every ten minutes, he'll still stay awake to keep you company. Even if you tell him to go to bed. He'll even listen to you ramble about your interests until you get tired.

• You getting excited over other dolls or stuffed animals gets him a little jealous. He won't admit it out loud.. but it's noticeable. He'll glare at the doll, even though it isn't alive. Most of the time he'll try and do something to take your attention away from it and back onto him.

"Hey, uh, doll? Ain't that the one guy from that uh- show you like?" He'd ask, half rushed and not specific.

"Who? Where?" You'd quickly turn, interested but confused.

"Ah, forget it. I was imagining things. Let's just go somewhere else, hm? It's boring in here." He'd quickly change the subject, knowing your attention was no longer on some stupid stuffed animal.

• Hide and seek sessions happen a lot. Tag too. It's tiring for him, but he manages until your energy burst is gone.

• He'll kill absolutely anyone who makes fun of your age regression. And anyone who will try to tell you to "act your age."

ALBERT SHAW/THE GRABBER:

• When he first took you, he didn't even know you had it.. but he learned very fast. He was careful with you. Let you warm up to him.. After all, he didn't take you to bring harm to you. He just ran into you and had to have you, being terrified someone would have you before he could try.

• You warmed up to him eventually, and on days of good behavior he'd let you out of the basement and let you roam the house. Never outside though... Only when someone would forget your disappearance would he let that happen, and even then he'd be with you. You automatically got excited upon seeing his dog, Samson, a happy squeal escaping you. The quick mood change made him pick up on it.. you had been kidnapped less than a month ago, yet the moment you get to leave, a dog made you forget that you were STILL kidnapped?

• Once he had learned about your age regression, and your patterns, he learned to work with it.

• Easily emotional? That's okay! He'll help with that. He'll hold you, play with your hair and whisper words of assurance until you feel better.

• Being picky with your food? He'll make you whatever you'd like. He'll even get you candy here and there. He's picked up on your favorites...

• Your energy boosts excite him. He doesn't take long to join you, giggling with you as you two play in the basement. It's almost as if it wasn't even a kidnapping anymore.

• He'll lay with you, letting you examine and mess with his mask whenever he's noticed your interest in it, sometimes taking it off to let you hold it... though you aren't allowed to look at him unless he says otherwise. But you often allow him to wear it, since he's expressed how he hates having to keep it off.

• He's gotten you plenty of comfort blushes for you to hold or sleep with when he isn't there.

• It isnt very often, but if you are scared down in the basement (Due to rain, or loud noises, or just the feel of it getting to you), He'll let you sleep upstairs with him.

• Nobody really has the chance to talk about your age regression outside of the house, unless it was someone who knew you. He doesn't do much about it... He'll cause a scene though if he's out and it's getting out of hand. He'll shout at them how lovely of a person you "were" and that the age regression made you no different. He has to pretend he just knew you though, not once giving away that he still does. Everyone in town is under the impression that you're dead after all, he doesnt want to cause suspicion. He'll end up telling you about it later that night, the lips of his mask pressed against your neck as he assures you that he loves you like this, and wouldn't change anything.

"Don't you think I should.. I dunno.. be a little different? More.. normal?" You'd ask, only receiving a soft grip from the other.

"No.. I like you this way. You don't need to change. I don't care that you're childish. It really doesn't matter to me, Dove, it's what makes you so special.."

[illmoraineakoi]

Vessel Plush Brief Update

Lots of Babbling Below

I canceled the black minky order from the shitty fabric site a few days ago, and reordered it from a different site.

Previous site had it on backorder for two months. New site's already shipped it. I...hate myself.

I had a gut feeling back when i made the first order to just go with the new site, but I went with the old one because it was a little cheaper. Wasted my goddamn time. I could've had this fabric back in January.

So, anyway, black fabric for Vessel bodies is on the way. So I can finally continue getting all the patterns marked and then cut out.

On that note; I still have no idea how to do the cloaks.

The panel idea didn't work out as well as I'd hoped. The panel pieces themselves are really nice, and would be super easy to sew with a machine, but it's the attaching them together that's the issue. Hand sewing them together causes them to get all puckered and wrinkled.

I have one last hope, and that's machine sewing them together with a zigzag stitch. I haven't tested it, but I should.

A part of me is just so tired of struggling with the cloaks that I just want to default to a single flat piece for both sides of the entire cloak. It'd honestly just be easier at this point, despite how much fabric waste that would make.

But I wouldn't be able to do the alternate lengths I wanted to do with it. Every Vessel would look the same/have the same cloak. And Lost Kin would be a bitch to scale up still.

I don't know. I've not been working on the cloaks, because I'm so frustrated with them, so I've been waiting for the body fabric to do the bodies first. But I need to figure out what I want to do for the cloaks eventually.

I'll do the zigzag stitch test, and if I'm still unsure, I'll make a full front/back piece test cloak. And then decide what to do from there.

I suppose, if push came to shove, I could try to make alternate full front/back patterns for the vessels I wanted to have longer/more tattered looking cloaks. I just don't know if I have enough fabric for that. I really don't want to make the bottom tatters separate pieces, I want it to all be one piece so it looks good. But the fabric waste...

I'll throw that pattern into my yardage estimator document. See how I can lay them out to minimize waste, and how many piece I can squeeze out of the amount of fabric I have left.

Which I....don't even remember how much that is FFS

This is a mess. A giant mess. Someone hit me with a table.