#i still pray all this stomach stuff clears up

[wanderingmind867]

My stomach is still acting up, and that's definitely contributing to me making less posts. As I said in a post yesterday: my overthinking, stomach issues and seeming addiction to the ai character chatbots have caused me to not post as often as I used to. But I've stopped venting about the stomach issues because I don't really know how many more ways I can articulate posts on my stomach issues without just saying that i hate it because pain (even non fatal pain like this) can really hurt.

But I feel like it could be seen as good practice for next semester of school. Because if I'm at school the whole day next year, I may not be making many new posts then too. But even in that case: I still pray this stomach pain clears up. Because it's annoying to not know the definitive cause if the pain yet, and to just have to deal with it. So I hope it clears up before too long.

[chevroletdean]

backstory stuff (req.) ── ✮⋆˙

pairing: dean x fem!reader genre: fluff to note/warnings: objectifying dean bc he looks edible, shameless ogling, kissing and making out, cussing word count: 2.5k a/n: tysm to @midnight--raine for requesting this! i definitely had the "blablabla place name proper name backstory stuff" audio stuck in my head writing this, hence the title for this drabble; btw i, too, would not be able to focus. other than that, this is written in 3rd person pov, which is actually my preferred style of writing/reading.

“Don’t forget the pie,” Dean called out, just before the door closed shut with a thud. That was about the last coherent sentence she was able to make out – and not because what followed was inaudible or anything like that. The priorities of her focus have simply… shifted.

Plus, and that was a much more favorable explanation for her own conscience, silence filled the space currently. Usually silence between them was comfortable, but at that moment she felt like her heart was hammering against her chest so intensely that the sound echoed off the walls, and like her blood was rushing through her veins was as loud as a waterfall in her ears.

With Sam off to buy some much needed food, she and Dean were left behind in the motel room, the space of which suddenly seemed awfully cramped. Ironic, considering how insistent she had been on not minding to share a room with the brothers, despite Sam’s double-inquiry if they should rent separate ones:

“They have another spare room,” Sam said.

“It’s fine, Sam,” she replied.

“Are you sure?” Sam followed up.

“Positive,” she confirmed with a nod.

“Dean might snore again and–”

Cue his older brother: “Speak for yourself, Sammy!”

“One room is enough, Sam,” she chuckled, clearly amused by the familiar bickering.

Two beds and a couch were plenty of space, after all, and it would only be for a night – whoever lost at rock-paper-scissors (Dean, of course) would survive a couple of hours on a couch.

Except she wasn’t sure if she could even make it through the next thirty to forty minutes.

This case was a tricky one and her attention span was pretty much dead as is, especially on an empty stomach. In hindsight, she still regretted grumbling about being hungry. Maybe she should’ve volunteered to make the trip to the convenience store instead of Sam. Then she wouldn’t be stuck here, making a fool of herself.

Neither the tablet in her lap nor the books sprawled around her on the bed were of interest to her anymore. Not with her blood sugar low. Not with too many frustrating hours of not finding anything. And most importantly:

Not with Dean sitting on the couch right across from her.

Not with the way his hand was holding his book open in his lap, long fingers nestled right in the joint of the pages, wedged in the folds in a way that shouldn’t look half as erotic as it did to her. Christ, she had to snap out of it.

As if on cue, Dean cleared his throat, startling her to the point of flinching. Her panicked eyes darted away from his hands and to his face while she silently begged – more like downright prayed – he hadn’t caught her staring.

His eyes remained glued to the pages, unbothered as ever and indicating the coincidental nature of his actions. Relieved, she let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. Not that the fear of getting caught made her stop gawking at him. And, honestly, could anyone blame her? Nobody.

Not with the way he rolled up his sleeves, exposing freckles and veins on his arms, which he – to make matters worse – just had to stretch out, first forward, then upward, his muscles flexing. Not with the way he tipped his head back too, straining his neck until it gave a soft pop and he gave a soft groan.

Snapping out of it was no longer an option. Except it had to be. Dean and her were friends, partners in crime only in a jokeful and strictly platonic matter. In a poor attempt to distract herself, she decided to speak up. Anything to disrupt this silence, the tension of which was as palpable as it was torturous for her.

“If the couch is too uncomfortable, you can have my bed,” she offered, watching as he shifted around on the cushions. Lost game or not, Dean was the one who always had to endure hours behind the wheel and she couldn’t help but feel a little guilty about denying his sore body the comfort of a proper mattress.

“Worried for me, sweetheart?” He scoffed with a teasing grin that made her simultaneously roll her eyes and feel the tips of her ears turn red.

“You’re the one cracking your joints like you’re suffering from arthritis,” she huffed.

“Nah, ‘s fine,” he mumbled in response, rotating his shoulders briefly, before redirecting his focus to his book.

Silence befell the room once more and she had to admit his diligence was admirable, compared to her own. She was still way too distracted to think about the case, while he was purposefully flipping through the pages. His brows were knitted together in deep concentration, those emerald eyes of his squinted slightly as he skimmed over the words. Not to mention his mouth.

Her heart skipped a beat at the sight of his tongue poking out. Its tip ran along the seam and over his bottom lip briefly, moistening the skin there into a glossy state. As if their pink shade wasn’t mesmerizing enough to look at already. His pearly whites followed close, biting the glistening skin of his lower lip, sucking it in for a second, before releasing it with a click of his tongue.

How soft those lips would probably feel, she wondered. She bet they were warm. They probably tasted like whiskey.

Their shape was worth obsessing over, too – plump and full, the soft curve of his cupid’s bow so perfect it might’ve as well been painted by an artist. The left corner of his lips curled upwards suddenly, his mouth forming words, the content of which went straight over her head. She registered the sound of his voice, but the actual syllables fell on deaf ears.

She was so busy observing the movement of his lips that she didn’t realize he wasn’t just mumbling to himself, but actually talking to her. Only when he tilted his head and said her name did her eyes widen.

“Sorry,” she uttered, her own voice breathless and strained and her throat feeling tight. And so very dry, no matter how often she’d try to swallow the lump in there. “What was that?”

Dean’s eyebrows shot up and his gaze wandered down on her, swiftly.

“I said: Could you look up–,” he repeated, but interrupted himself mid sentence with a sigh and a sheepish grin. “Nevermind, give me that.”

Discarding his book onto the coffee table, Dean lifted himself off of the couch and made his way over to her bed with a confident stride. He plopped down right next to her. Her breath nearly hitched in her throat as she felt the mattress sink slightly beneath them, but she didn’t resist as he reached for her tablet.

Usually she would’ve protested at him touching her stuff without asking, but the subtle brush of his fingers against her own sent an electric jolt down her spine that made her forget all her words. Either oblivious to her reaction or simply not caring, Dean proceeded to type away on the screen. She figured he must’ve had an epiphany and was trying to look up a possible solution to whatever creature they were searching for. But with every fiber of her searching for the details of Dean’s body next to hers, she couldn't care less about any monster.

His lips were moving again. That is to say, he was speaking, but the auditive part thereof blended into the background while the visual aspect grasped her full attention. She couldn’t help it; up close the view was even more alluring.

She thought she recognized the vowels O and E in there somewhere, though her reception of that was purely based on what speech patterns she thought she saw his mouth produce.

“Huh?” She asked, which made him erupt in a short laugh. That sound she definitely perceived. Not only with her ears but also with her heart, which skipped yet another beat.

“You’re not a great thinker on an empty stomach, eh?” Dean teased, gently nudging his elbow against hers and turning the iPad for her to look at. Whatever he was showing her on the screen, she didn’t care. She couldn’t bring herself to care. Instead, her eyes remained glued to him, albeit by now her gaze had at least wandered back to his eyes.

“Or maybe you’re hungry for something else,” he spoke, in such a bold and direct tone that she nearly jumped.

“What?” This time she wasn’t asking because she didn’t hear him, but precisely because his words had been loud and clear.

“No offense, but you’ve basically been gawking at me like you want a bite.”

Oh, fuck, he did catch her staring. Her eyes widened and her lips parted, but she struggled to come up with a snarky response on the spot. All she could do was scoff coyly.

“Have not,” she puffed, her body language betraying her even now as her eyes remained glued to his, despite her flustered state. “You wish.”

That’s what this was, right? Bickering, bantering, teasing – they’d always throw quips at each other playfully. Albeit they usually weren’t remotely close to touching a subject like this. Whatever this was, even. Romance? Longing? The aforementioned hunger?

Dean’s voice dropped an octave as he echoed her half tongue-tied denial. “Have not?” He was so smug about it too, victorious grin on those irresistible lips, mischievous spark in his green eyes, tone laced with mockery. “What’re you so flustered for then?”

“I’m not flustered, shut up,” she groaned, before turning her head away from him.

Or trying to, anyway. She was stopped in her tracks by Dean’s hand, his knuckles nestled just beneath her chin and tipping her head back. Just like that, she froze. Her heart froze. Time itself froze. Instinctively she held her breath and she did not dare to move a muscle.

His breath was a warm summer’s breeze against her skin, yet it made her shiver. His whisper tickled her senses — How was it possible for a voice to be as smooth as velvet and gravelly enough to make her tremble at the same time, anyway? “Then I’m sure you don’t mind me doing this?” She was pretty sure there was nothing Dean could’ve done right then and there that she would mind, flustered or not.

His knuckles brushed against her jawline, fingers opening slowly and cupping her cheek properly this time. As he pulled her closer, she couldn’t help but find his ministrations surprisingly tender. If she didn’t know it any better, she’d say Dean Winchester, notoriously known for being a flirtatious womanizer with an inflated ego, was just as nervous as she was. There was a tremble in his fingertips, a slight twitch in the flutter of his long lashes. A flicker of emotions in his darkened pupils.

Perhaps it was her imagination, or maybe she was projecting her own agitation onto him.

Either way, it was on her to fill that space between them. As if on instinct, her body moved on its own, leaning forward, closing her eyes, capturing his lips with her own. Even though the kiss was chaste, she already knew Dean’s pillowy lips were like a soft cloud she wanted to sink into and get lost in. His mouth was, as she had guessed, sweet and smokey with whiskey.

Their lips brushed together, tentatively at first. His fingers gently carded through her hair. The warmth that had blossomed in her chest lingered even as she pulled back again, just enough to be able to look into his eyes again.

“Who’s flustered now?” she teased within a whisper, the pink color on her cheeks betraying her confident act. However, she definitely had a point, considering that Dean’s flushed shade matched her own.

He lunged forward with enough force to pin her down onto the mattress. The sudden fierceness had her grasp onto his broad shoulders, pulling him down with her. His mouth was on hers again in an instant, hot and searing and with the intent to devour her whole. They breathed each other in, their lungs craving the depth of the kiss more than oxygen itself. Raw desire replaced the initial shyness of their first experimental peck. Dean’s tongue moved against hers as if he was trying to erase anything else from her mind. She kissed him back with equal fervor, finally bursting the bubble of endlessly long yearning and pining.

“You’ve no idea how long I’ve wanted t’do this,” Dean slurred as if drunk on her taste, his words muffled by the silky texture of her lips.

His hands traced down her sides, outlining a curve for her that her body willingly arched into. She pulled him impossibly closer and closer still, even when his mouth proceeded to wander down her jaw, down her neck. He marked a path down the column of her neck until his teeth grazed her throat to pull broken gasps and mewls from within. The meek sounds fueled him. She was practically sending him on a mission to coax all the pretty noises from her puffy, kiss-bitten lips. She was an instrument, his fingers strumming her chords. She was his favorite song.

“Should’ve done this a long time ago,” he purred and the rumble of his chest buzzed straight into her heart, down her spine all the way through her core.

“Agreed,” was the simple and only response she was able to choke out.

Her shaky fingers tightened their grip on his shirt, the fabric wrinkling under her impatient pulling and tugging. One hand snaked around his shoulders, finding home in the nape of his neck as she allowed her fingertips to comb through the tresses of his hair. Touching him was grounding, while the low growl she was able to draw from him had her feel all dizzy and fuzzy.

Dean lifted his head again to crash his lips into hers with newfound vigor. Their hands were everywhere, running over every plane of muscle, every hill and valley to the point of their limbs tangling together messily. Nothing could separate them from their magnetized state.

Except the rustling of keys at the door. As quickly as they had found each other, their lips withdrew from one another. Both her and Dean quickly sat up, faces flushed and chests heaving with ragged breaths. He cleared his throat while she busied her shaky fingers with smoothing over her hair. By the time Sam returned and closed the door behind him, they had reluctantly pulled away. The inches between them were as sobering as Sam’s voice.

“They were out of apple pie, here’s cherry,” Sam sighed, placing the plastic bag onto the coffee table. He glanced over to the two, his eyes flickering back and forth between them with wonder. She could practically see the wheels turning in his head as he tried to piece together the clues. Their flushed faces, Dean’s disheveled hair, her messy shirt.

“I think I had enough sweets for today,” Dean muttered half-awkwardly towards his brother and with a half-smug wink towards her.

credit & links: ao3 ──〃★ dividers ──〃★ request here

taglist: @ladysparkles78

comment a green heart 💚 to be added to the dean x reader taglist (please note: ageless blogs will only be tagged in fluff and angst posts)

[reshinless]

Been seeing alot of spiderman Kinich content on the clock app and this gave me an idea

Reader gets gwen stacy'd and kinich fails to save them lol then he wakes up and then they bang

──── through the phone mask

⠀ ۪ ⠀✧ synopsis. before he goes, how about a peck, yeah through his mask!

⠀ ۪ ⠀✧ pairings. spiderman!kinich x gn!afab!reader (this will end up in smut, so !!NSFW CONTENT AHEAD!!) angst + comfort (in a way?? death mention but no actual death happens! just a bad dream)

⠀ ۪ ⠀✧ director's notice. oooo i could not stop thinking about this during class!!

"mwa!" you cheer- briefly backing away as you admire you boyfriend, kinich, that puts his mask on. you pray that this spiderman stuff didn't pressure him at all.

"mmm... one more?" as he turned around to face you again. you chuckled as you tilted your head, stepping closer to the window sill he crouched on. "one more? i think you've had enough for today." a teasing tone present in you sonorously.

he gave you a pleading look in hopes to earn accolade (in which this case is a kiss. or two. or three.) you could giggle, feeling the way he still tried to kiss you through the mask he wore, concealing his identity to all, except you of course.

"mmmwa!" you brush your lips against the fabric that kept all of this a secret. you were so pretty when you smiled. he likes that little dimple that appears on your cheek when you grinned- or maybe the mole on your neck right there. mmmaybe he should count them soon.

but when there's a moment where kinich saves everyone but you, he'd never forgive himself. when there's a moment where kinich can catch everyone when they're falling but you. when there are gonna be moments that only star him, and missing you. like how a seed would long for a soil bed, or how the moonlight doesn't shine without its sun.

he was terrified of losing someone as precious as you were. for as long as you both lived, he wanted to spend as much time with you. his love language was all about spending time with you, and doing things for you, he knew you could handle yourself, but he loves knowing you rely on him for a few things (even if they're simple). so losing you would be losing a huge part of himself.

in all the years you both got to spend together, you spent it along side your best wingwoman; mualani. growing up by both of your sides, he never felt alone, or unneeded. he felt everything was finally coming together.

so when he saw the scene before him- it was you. being stabbed in the stomach by a spike below the now-broken bridge. even in death you were so pretty. your head was laid down on his lap, barely opening your eyes, just enough to let a few tears trickle down the softness of your cheeks.

"i'm.. sorry i couldn't do enough for you." were the words you whispered, holding his cheek before finally passing on to the next world.

no he couldn't handle the scene at all. and only now is when he realizes- he should spend more time. he'll make sure you won't feel like that when he meets you again. he knows he'll recognize you. he'd know you from anywhere, anytime, any appearance, anywho.

kinich wakes up in tears, clear tear stains on the place he rest his face into. your pjs have small marks, drops of tears where they'd landed off his face. your eyes flutter open a few seconds later, realizing he's no longer in your arms.

"kin? wh.. what's wrong? why are you crying?" you immediately got up to wipe the small sobs off his cheeks. "..you're still here.. thank god, you're still here." he suddenly hugs you, fitting his head into your nape. his hold was tight, and affectionate. enough to know that he's happy that you're still present.

"yeah, i'd never leave. was.. was it a dream?" you asked, massaging his scalp to soothe his stress. he could only hum in response, he felt a little pathetic to admit that he was, but it was the first step to accepting it.

"do.. you ever feel like i'm mistreating you?" his head popped up from the spot it was previously. "what? no you're not. in fact, i feel like i'm not doing enough for you, baby." you chuckle, shifting your head to front him a little better.

"you've done more than you think for me." his hand held a soft grasp on your palm, you could feel a few scars on his hand. "really? i find it hard to believe." you let out a giggle, certainly a superhero who does things to make sure the city is a safe place for all, feels like you do more? that was in your point of view anyway.

"may.. i show you how much i can repay you then? i want to show you.. i want you to feel how thankful i am that you're here."

whatever it was in that dream of his definitely helped yours come true. "mmm, someone's ahhn- enjoying, ngh themselves.." he grunted out, hitting you from behind so good, you can't do anything but sit there and take it.

you could feel every little ridge on his dick, the sweat emitting from your body, combined with the drops spouting from the pores of his palms. damn you couldn't even hold your own moans back in courtesy for the people in the next dorm. "mmmffffuckkk.. s'good kin.." you whined, you shut your eyes in ectasy

he throws his head back, groaning at the sight of your plush ass barely swallowing his shaft each time. every shlick only made you even wetter. you could feel his length twitching inside you, each time he hit your very core.

your folds felt so insanely good, wrapping around the base of his dick so well, even inside you it felt so warm. the way you were basically getting stretched out, it reached even further into you, in his observation seeing how your eyebrows knitted- he assumed you liked it like that, kissing your insides!

he slowed the pace of his sloppy thrusts briefly to reach over for the phone on the nightstand. "you mind if we take a photo, pretty? love the way you look right now, 'd hate to miss such a face."

he'd be too busy admiring your face to realize how long he'd been grinding against your precious spot. he knew exactly how to make you use the expressions he wanted.

kissing your neck hungrily, making sure you face the camera as it recorded, letting it see all of you.

watching how your body reacted to his so well, he couldn't help but coo into your ear about how good you were doing.

"such a pretty kitty, mmm? and they're all mine aren't they? he continued, on the edge of the bed- making sure you see yourself in the mirror in front of you.

"this is what i admire everyday. hnnn.. s'tight, fffuck.." he groaned into you, letting you sit on his dick, riding it while watching his reaction through the mirror.

you couldn't help but piston your hips repeatedly, you were already so wet, might as well put it to use!

he held your hand throughout everything, squeezing it every now and then to indirectly ask if you're doing okay. kissing down from your nape to your shoulder blades, you were perfect from the ground till your ears.

for what seemed like the umpteenth time, he cums inside you. warm seed shoots up into your body, creaming on his cock at the same time.

kinich who holds you by the waist, feeling his cock slowly soften inside you. still trying to catch his breath- but still makes an effort to kiss your cheek.

still makes an effort to carry your trembling body to the bathroom. still makes an effort to clean you up. still makes an effort to eat you out slowly afterwards.

he who already misses you while you were still in the room. he couldn't help but cuddle with you for a bit before going out again. it was sunday already anyway, and he spent the moments where the sun rose elsewhere (eating you out/giving bj)

kinich who loved the idea of making out with you right after, still having to go out since you both spent the whole night.. intimately. half of his mask is still on but all you do is lift it up a little, enough for his lips to be visible enough for you to peck.

he makes sure you're sound asleep before he goes, he'll be back before you know it anyway.

[ravencincaide]

Just a cake

Summary:  What was supposed to be a sweet innocent question aimed at gaining a sliver of Chuuya’s attention spiraled out of control. It shook the foundation of your relationship and everything you thought you knew. Indeed with one innocent question you lost it all- and yet saved yourself two decades of suffering all in one go. 

Pairing: Fem reader x Chuuya Nakahara 

Inspired by Raven’s special anon request: Chuuya says something that hurts the reader and she leaves. 

Warnings: Cursing, verbal argument, angst

Enjoy~

“ Can I ask for a birthday cake for my birthday?” 

Your tone was light and playful, almost joking- a stupid question meant to lighten the focused mood in the dark, stuffy, paperwork-filled office. A silent cry for a sliver of his attention, just a tiny reassurance that despite the heavy workload which plagued your lives, that he still cared enough not to forget about your important day. You envisioned that Chuuya would pull you into his lap. Then he’d kiss your skin in between bites of bento that you just brought to him just moments earlier. You envisioned a sweet promise that he had already ordered the best cake in Yokohama. or that he would tap your nose with a gloved finger while he demanded to know what kind of boyfriend you thought he was. 

Especially when all you asked for this year was a cake and homemade dinner.  Just a little time together in the privacy of your home.  You and him without praying eyes. Just you and him. Just you, the special news and–

“ Hmff what kinda cake do you want?” you flinched at his tone and paused in the middle of sorting paperwork, unsure whether you heard him right. Your eyes flickered upwards to meet Chuuya’s narrowed ones. Clear frustration itched into his face “ Tell me now the kind you want, doll. Or I’ll just pick something up on the way” You bit your lip. You knew you did not want just ‘something’; a day-old cake from the bakery, or a generic one from any grocery store still open once he got off work. You wanted a cake picked with time and care, selected with you in mind. The type of dedication he’d show whenever he got wine for his friends' birthdays. The warm kind of affection he’d shower you in on good days. The picture perfect generous and loving boyfriend in the eyes of others. 

“ Don’t bother,” you answered without anger. “ With that attitude, I’ll fix it myself.” You felt his narrowed eyes glare at you, but you did not spare him a second glance. You were afraid that his expression would make the burning rod of anger explode and escalate the situation further. 

Neither of you needed that now. 

“ Oj I said I’ll fix it” Chuuya snapped back “ Just stop fuckin asking about it constantly.” 

His comment was the wrong thing to say. It was the straw that broke the camel's back, the words that made the anger in your stomach spike into an uncontrollable fury. “ You know what? Don't bother getting me anything!” you hissed “ I don’t need a goddamn thing from you.” 

“ What the hell is your fuckin issue?” Chuuya’s fist made contact with the table, his action made the stack of your newly sorted paperwork slide down towards the floor “ You’ve been having a goddamn attitude lately, the hells your problem?!” 

“ I don’t know, maybe if you actually took your time to come home once in a while you’d know!” your palms hands slammed against the table in equally furious fashion. 

Chuuya let out a growl- bit back the insult at the tip of his tongue. Still his words came out just as sharp as before, if not more painful, blaming “ Do you even understand my financial role? Or do you think my apartment gets paid for by itself, just like the wine and other ‘necessities’?-” You opened your mouth, ready to snap back that he had himself to blame for refusing to take a damned penny off your hands. He had no right to blame you when you had offered to pay time and time again only for him to stuff the money right back into your hand. But he did not let you speak. No, Chuuya kept going, not finished in his fury-filled trade. “ - Besides who the fuck would want to come home to someone constantly ungratefully pissy, hmm?” 

“If that’s how you’re feeling then we shouldn’t be together at all” your voice was just shy of a scream, your eyes full of humiliated anger. There was one thing to be pissy because of work related stress but this was crossing boundaries even Chuuya would normally stay clear of. 

Not today. 

“ Maybe you’re fucking right about that doll!” Chuuya didn't yell. Yet his words echoed loudly, louder than any other sound in his god forsaken office.  

You felt like you were slapped. The fight left your system with one big exhale. Your shoulders slumped and you bowed your head. Hands returned to your sides, balled into tight fists. 

Chuuya waited for you to say something. When you didn’t he let out a long sigh and turned back to the papers in front of him. You heard the way he picked up his pen, the scratches of the tip against the pristine papers “ I’ll send someone with you to get your things.” 

“ Don’t bother, I don’t need or want jack-shit from you” you turned on your heel and headed in the direction of the office door. 

Chuuya spoke again before you could leave his office; “ Don’t bother coming back to the Mafia. You’re relieved of your duties.” 

A sense of dread filled you but you were too proud to show it. Your lips set into a thin line as your hand lingered on the doorknob. “ As you wish. Don’t come crying to me when you’ll regret this later.” you spat then snuck out of the room right before Chuuya’s fury could reach you. 

You closed the office door just in time to hear something smash against it behind you, presumably the half eaten bento you had taken such time and care to prepare for him. Made his favourite things and brought it over for him too. 

Fucking ungrateful bastard. 

 A dull frozen feeling set  in your body- your mind hadn’t processed what had just transpired. Could not understand how you had lost everything; your home, your job, your lover and your life over a simple question. A request for something other than a last minute generic cake for your upcoming birthday. 

Still as you sat down in your car and pulled out of the Port Mafia parking lot for the last time in your life you couldn’t help the tears that streamed down your cheeks. The suffocating heartache- but also the tiny bit of relief that bloomed in your chest. The relief at the fact that the bloodthirsty executive of the Mafia finally showed his true colours- true thoughts- about you. Blamed you for the fact that you had stayed home from work during the past weeks. Blamed you for the insufferable act of wanting your partners attention. No, he was your ex partner and that was for the better. 

It was better that you broke up now than if something similar happened in the next weeks. Or so you told yourself. A few days from now you would have told him the truth and then you would have been trapped with him. By him. A caged bird with no chance to escape. No you should be happy, thankful that he decided to finally show the ugly of his character. 

Murderer unable to handle a heart. 

As similar thoughts ran through your mind, you couldn’t help the almost manic smile that appeared on your lips as you drove further and further away from the life you knew. After all, you were certain Chuuya would come to regret this decision in the future. 

But by then it would be too late. 

Your eyes flickered to the passenger seat where a large, obnoxious gift bag sat. With huge golden letters it spelled out “congratulations” and from it peeked out a shirt with the words; 

You’re going to be a dad…

Author note: And Chuuya would most certain regret his actions ...

Hope you enjoyed this little special addition to Raven's special that's the lengths of an actual fic. Yes I've had it prepared in advance and used this as an excuse to publish it. Hope this angst hurt just a tiny bit more than the previous. Don't forget to check Raven's masterlist! and wait for the next Special ;) ©ravencincaide 2024. Do not copy/repost/translate or spread my work(s) without my explicit permission. If you see any of my work(s) reposted/copied anywhere else without my consent, please inform me!

[dellalyra]

Family Formation - Part Ten

Summary: The school’s exchange event endangers your family, but it’s okay, mom and dad are here to help.

CW: swearing, fluff, found family stuff, canon typical violence, I guess some angst ? megumi needs his mom rn

A/N: so!! It seems like nothings showing up in tags!!! If anyone can help pls do i am dumb and confused!! But ! Here is part 10 I have absolutely no impulse control and now you get 2 parts in one night bc adhd. I like this part nd pls don’t forget that requests are open and I love getting them!! Also! Just send shit idc I’m lonely man

Recommended Listening:

In The Woods Somewhere - Hozier

Masterlist

Nothing felt right.

You couldn’t sit still in your chair beside your husband.

There was a twisting in your gut. Akio, now 6 months old, was safe and sound with your parents – Grade One sorcerers and your home were hidden by your husband – so you knew Akio was safe.

But call it mother’s instinct – one of your kids was in danger.

You tried to pay attention to the exchange event, watching the fights but the feeling grew and grew and was soon confirmed when all the student’s lights burned red.

You sprung up from your chair and vaguely heard Mei Mei and Yaga speaking – you gripped Satoru’s arm and soon you, him and Utahime along with Gakuganji were running toward a descending curtain. Gojo reached out only to be violently rejected by the curtain, you frowned in confusion but realised a second too late as you too, were blasted backwards.

You looked at Satoru.

“An anti-Gojo veil, I just don’t think it specified which one.” He said, as you realised this was meant to keep you both out as Utahime managed to slide her arm through the veil.

Panic seized your stomach. Megumi. He was in there, he was in danger. Nobara, Yuuji. What about Maki and Toge, Panda too? All the Kyoto kids? You needed to get in. That anger panic soon turned to anger as you realised someone intentionally made this veil to keep you and Satoru from the kids.

“Utahime, gramps, you two go ahead. Protect the kids. I can break this down, but only with Y/N’s intellect.” He waves a hand at them, he may be calm but you can sense his frustration.

Utahime looks at you.

“Hime, please, get me, my kids.” She only nods and they disappear through the curtain.

“Okay, Satoru. What do you see?” You ask. You and your husband work together like a well-oiled machine by now – techniques working in perfect unison after so long of working together and the intimacy of marriage.

“Veil, the cursed spirit made, specifically meant to keep us both out. 2km radius.” He recites, knowing what you need.

“Okay, I’ll create a diversion – then red?” You don’t even realise it by now but you working on sheer instinct and muscle memory. Trying to clear the emotions swirling through your gut right now is taking everything you have.

“It’s a deal, sweet cheeks.” He replies. God, where would you be without this man beside you?

You activate one of your techniques, one of the more durable and as teenage Gojo when training said ‘damn annoying’ ones, Fae Conjuration, and shape an ancestral spirit’s cursed energy into a gigantic elephant.

“I love your flair for drama, princess,” Gojo says, kissing your hand.

“Go big or go home, right.” You reply, which makes him laugh.

As you send the elephant charging into the barrier, just as it hits and bursts into thousands of small blue petals, Satoru sends a bright red burst of energy into the curtain and you see it shrink back into itself.

You both immediately begin running toward the smoke and dust emanating from where you know the river lies. You pray to whoever might be listening that your kids are safe and that you weren’t, once again, too late.

“Y/N, get them out of the way,” Satoru says from behind you, before branching off behind you. You knew what he meant immediately.

Not far away, a series of flashes come and you see, your Yuuji, sweet, kind, loving Yuuji – has hit the curse with four consecutive black flashes. Pride swells in your chest and a giggle at how Kento will react. Next comes several confusing images which you recognise as Todo switching everyone’s places and before you know it the curse has greatly increased their cursed energy output. Yuuji comes running to Todo and just as the energy reaches its peak, you slid into the riverbed in front of the boys, using your cursed claws as anchors and shouting.

“Cursed technique: Wall of Thorns” comes tumbling from your voice, raw and powerful and the magnitude of energy pulsing from your technique quells the curses own but also wraps it up in piercing tendrils of impossibly thick, strong vines.

You look at the curse, a spirit imbued by nature – a being similar to yourself. You smile sadly at it.

“The Dryad. The monk warned me of you.” The curse speaks in a shockingly gentle voice.

“Hanami. I’m sorry it came to this. Return to the earth, and be at peace.” You say as you’ve spotted a shape lingering in the sky.

You turn as fast as you can, as you spot a figure in the sky and grabbing Todo and Yuuji by the arms you shout again.

“Cursed technique: comments flora.” And with that, you and the boys are standing, by a camellia bush about 100ft away.

“Why have we run? Y/N-Sensei?! Todo?! It’s not dead!” Yuuji shouts and leaves to run but Aoi grabs his arm.

“Hold it, brother!” Todo says.

“Do not go closer, Yuuji. Satoru has it from here.” You say.

“Don’t take another step closer, or you’ll get caught in it.” Todo and you push Yuuji behind you both and just in time as a rumble comes through the ground and you’re all soon swathed in a deep purple light.

You giggle a little, Satoru has had a chance to play a little rough today, he’s probably in heaven.

“Ha, he’s as nonstandard as ever,” Todo says.

As the light clears and you release Yuuji from your grip, you look at them both.

“Where is Megumi? I can feel his cursed energy. Is he safe, is he hurt?” You say, patting them both down and spinning them to assess injuries.

“He’s been taken to Shoko Sensei, he was injured, along with Maki. Panda has escorted them to safety.” Todo informs you as you squeeze the (much taller than you) Itadori into your chest.

“Well, maybe I should have Aoi here as your Sensei if he managed to get a black flash from you.” Coke from behind you, as your husband floats down to stand beside you all. Yuuji immediately starts spouting at him about how cool the ‘purple neon flashy thingy’ was and how he’s ‘so OP Sensei’ and Aoi claps and agrees and admires his panache.

“Satoru – Satoru! Megumi! He’s hurt, Shoko has him.” He whips around and grabs your arm and the next thing you know you’re warping into Shoko’s office and you realise the last time you did that your waters had broken and Akio was on his way. But now, it’s your other son, and it’s fear – not joyous apprehension you’re feeling. Satoru is stock still and stiff beside you. You know you’re both worrying you didn’t get to him in time. Your darling boy.

But much to your relief, sitting up with a scowl in front of you is the spikey-haired boy – seemingly unscathed, with Maki opposite him.

You dive into him, wrapping him in your arms.

“Shoko! Ieiri Shoko! Come here now! SHOKO!” You’re shouting through the room and Megumi is hushing you Satoru is pulling at every limb on Megumi checking for damage and Maki is laughing her ass off at the look on her cousin’s face.

“Jesus, Y/N chill the fuck out, your kids fine. He got a nasty gash in his stomach but it’ll heal fine, was more of a cursed technique issue than a health one. 2 weeks bed rest and some painkillers and he’ll be all good.” Shoko says, wiping her hands on her doctors coat and rolling her eyes at you. A flash of a memory of you and Gojo fussing like this over an injured Geto back in the day with her only learning to heal passes through her mind as she witnesses the scene.

She’s soon knocked back by you tossing your arms around her neck and kissing her hair.

“Thank you, I chose the best best friend ever, thank you I love you.” You finally let her go and then begin to fuss over Maki and Megumi together. Telling them that you’re taking both of them and whoever else needs recovery time to you and Gojo’s house and you’ll take care of them.

Shoko raises an eyebrow at Gojo, wondering how he’ll react to this decision.

“What my princess wants, I’ll give her. And if it’s time to look after her kids, then that’s nothing I’ll object to.” He shrugs, grabbing a candy from her desk.

Shoko leaves to check on Inumaki and Noritoshi Kamo and Maki is given permission to leave back to her dorm, with an open invite to the Gojo Cottage to recuperate if she wants.

You sit beside Megumi, with Gojo sprawling his ridiculously long limbs over the legs of the chair he’s on, playing candy crush with one eye and observing you two with the other.

“You okay, ‘gumi?” You say.

“I’m good, don’t worry Mom.” He says, awkwardly patting the top of your hand.

“You did really good today kid, saved a lot of people. Proud of you.” Gojo says, beaming. “You really take after your old man, and by that I mean me, in your levels of extraordinary talent.”

Megumi rolls his eyes and you just laugh at the two boys. You text your mom that Satoru will be home to take Akio to bed tonight, but you’ll both be staying the night in the chairs beside your eldest before you can take him home to rest tomorrow. She replies, after crying for 10 minutes over him being hurt asking if ‘her darling Megumi needs his Nana’ and he blushes and says it’s okay he’ll see her when he’s home. She tells you she loves you, tells Gojo she loves him, and tells Megumi she loves him the mostest and then you hang up. All of you drifting off, you and Gojo curled together on the armchair beside your kid’s bed.

You guys would be okay.

TAGLIST: @vesta-ro @lilithlunas @mialexandruh @sassy-cat-in-town @madam-ri @cjm-cookiethief

Requests open <3

[smilesrobotlover]

Whumptober day 11- Seeing double

Chat I‘ve ran out of my buffer 😭😭😭 wish me luck

Warnings for fatigue and stuff

~~~~~~

Leon was feeling the consequences of the past few days beginning to catch up to him all at once. He was stumbling like a drunkard down the mountain, shivering inside Linebeck’s coat. The man was stubborn, but Linebeck knew how to get around that, and convinced him to wear his coat. They would take turns wearing it, that way neither of them would freeze to death in the mountains. The warmth that Linebeck’s coat already had felt nice, but his extremities were still numb from the cold, so he continued to shiver. Linebeck seemed fine, surprisingly, only rubbing his arms occasionally in the cold. But he still had his stupid overcoat on, so Leon supposed that it kept him warm enough.

The snow slowly began to disappear as they traveled further down the mountain, with it becoming warmer to Leon’s relief. He crunched through dead leaves and sticks as he stumbled through the forest, and finally landed on hard, trampled dirt. A trail.

He observed the trail, looking to see where it led, and he spotted a village a little ways ahead of them. Thank the goddesses. He turned to Linebeck and gestured him forwards, walking along the trail.

As he got closer to the village, it was clear that it wasn’t the same one that they stopped by before they went up the mountain. It was much bigger than the other one, with a lot more people running about and different shops and inns lined up next to each other. A sinking feeling appeared in Leon’s stomach as he observed it, a thought running through his mind. Were the others even here?

As soon as Leon stepped into the village, he got hit with sudden vertigo and nearly toppled over, only being saved by Linebeck catching him.

“Geez, don’t fall over,” he said, and Leon groaned, rubbing his eyes and blinking furiously. “Are you ok?”

“I’m fine… just feeling dizzy,” Leon mumbled, pulling himself away from Linebeck. “I just pray the others are here.”

Linebeck nodded, pulling off his gloves with his teeth.

“How many fingers am I holding up?” He asked, and Leon glared at him.

“I’m not that dizzy. And you’re holding up eight. Nice try.”

Linebeck glanced at his one hand and gave Leon a look. “Last I checked, I only have five fingers. And I was holding up four.”

Leon’s eyes widened and he looked away. “I-I knew that.”

He avoided Linebeck’s gaze as he trudged through the town, his eyes squinting as he tried to stop the world from spinning. The first thing Leon looked for was a doctor. Knowing the others, they would’ve headed straight for a professional to take care of Rusl, but to his dismay, they weren’t there. Everywhere he and Linebeck went showed no signs of the others, and Leon was having a harder time staying upright. Eventually, Linebeck stopped him as he nearly toppled over again, gesturing to the inn by them.

“Leon, they’re not here, and you look like you’re about to pass out.”

Leon glared at him, but he knew he was right. There was nowhere else for them to go. The others probably went to the village they visited before, that had to be it. He prayed that was it.

The two men walked over to the inn, stepping inside to be met with a humid, loud place, full of people talking loud and eating food. Leon’s mouth watered, and his stomach ached as it longed for food, but the feeling was interrupted when the room suddenly went silent, with everyone staring at him and Linebeck.

“Hey look everyone,” a man shouted, “these folks still think we’re in the mountains!”

The room erupted in laughter, leaving Leon baffled. He was still wearing Linebeck’s coat, but it wasn’t that warm to take it off. Linebeck grabbed his arm and led him away as the room grew loud again with chatter, returning to its regular volume. To his relief, the people in the inn stopped paying attention to them, clearly pointing them out for a cheap laugh—Leon didn’t want to be in the spotlight any longer with how he was feeling. The men walked along the wall, watching each table as the people there ate sloppily and laughed loudly. With Leon’s headache, stomachache, and dizziness, he was feeling overstimulated and wanting to leave this place, but Linebeck stopped him and patted his shoulder, pointing ahead.

“Look!”

Leon looked to where he was pointing, and spotted a bundle of red and blue sprawled out on the table, asleep. He couldn’t help the smile and jogged up to the table, ignoring the pain in his body and shaking the person awake.

“Talon!”

Talon sprung up, looking around like a mad man as he nearly knocked his drink over.

“What is it? What’s wrong? Is everything ok—” He stopped and looked up at Leon, his stress melting away into a smile when he recognized him. “Leon! Linebeck! Oh thank the goddesses!”

Talon got up and pulled Leon into a hug, which he reciprocated instantly, feeling a weight being lifted off his shoulders. They were here, they didn’t have to search the mountains anymore, thank the goddesses. Leon quickly pulled away though, staring into Talon’s eyes.

“Please tell me Rusl is ok.”

Talon stared for a moment before shrugging. “He’s alive… I’m—I’m tryin’ my best,” he glanced down at the open book on the table, which was open to bone structure. Leon winced, feeling guilty for placing so much pressure on Talon’s shoulders.

“It’s good enough,” he said, and pulled him into another hug, which Talon melted into. He gave him a squeeze and Leon had to stop the pained groan as his side was pinched slightly. Finally, Talon pulled away, and grabbed his book, pointing to a hallway.

“We should head to our room! I bet the others would be happy to see you!” He said, pulling them towards the stairs, which Leon didn’t fight against. He needed to see the others, just to see that they’re alright. They traveled three flights of stairs though, which made Leon feel like he was genuinely going to pass out when they reached the top, and they were led to a room. Inside, Benji and Kass rested on the couch, with Benji’s feet plopped on the little table in front of them. There were two bedrooms to their side, with one door open and the other closed. Rusl must’ve been in the closed one.

Benji shot up from the couch as soon as he saw Leon and Linebeck, and he jogged up to them which made Leon step back.

“You guys are ok! Thank Hylia!” Benji cheered, ramming into Linebeck.

“Get off me!” He scolded, attempting to peel the man away from him. Kass walked up to them, a smile on his beak.

“Thank Hylia, I was so worried about you two!”

Leon smiled, lightly patting his wing. "We were worried about you too. How is Rusl?”

The door to the closed room opened, with Ammon peeking out and smiling. “You both made it!” He glanced inside and gestured for them to enter. “He’s awake. Come on inside.”

Leon felt like passing out or crying from relief, but he did neither as he hurried inside, ignoring every ache and sting in his body. He and Talon nearly rammed into each other while trying to enter the room at the same time, and he heard chuckling from Ammon as they squeezed past each other. Leon mumbled an apology and Talon did the same, and they both reached Rusl’s bedside, watching him as he stared, smiling at them. He looked significantly better than when he first fell off the cliff, which surprised Leon; his arm was in a sling, bandages were wrapped around him, and he laid on several pillows carefully wrapped around his neck, but his skin wasn’t as pale, and he looked alive. Leon glanced at the blanket covering him, a hint of blood staining where his legs would be and he frowned. He wondered how badly injured his legs were.

“I’m happy to see y’all are ok,” Rusl said, his voice quiet and strained, but the twang was still apparent, and Leon couldn’t help but smile.

“Rusl,” he started, kneeling down next to him, “I’m so relieved to see you alive.”

“I’m relieved to see you ok too,” he responded, his smile disappearing, “how are you?”

Leon pursed his lips, the ache in his side, his headache, and his empty stomach trying to assault him all at once, but he ignored it all. “I’m better now that you’re alright.”

Rusl gave him a look, observing his face. “You sure?”

“Yes, Rusl, I’m fine. I’m so relieved that you and everyone else are safe. I never want to be separated like that again.”

Rusl gave a weak chuckle. “I’ll try not to get thrown off a cliff again, then.”

It grew silent in the room and Rusl glanced around.

“Too soon?”

The men in the room all nodded and mumbled, and Rusl let out another weak chuckle.

“Sorry.”

Leon smiled and went to stand up, his body feeling like it weighed a thousand pounds. He tried to hide his fatigue though, and he smiled at Rusl.

“You recover now, my friend. We’ll take all the time you need to heal.”

“Thank you, Leon,” Rusl said, a tired smile on his face. Leon smiled again and nodded to Talon, who moved past him and took his place by Rusl’s bedside. Leon left the stuffy room, feeling Linebeck and Kass’s eyes on him.

“Leon? Are you alright?” Kass asked as he passed by, and he didn’t answer. Instead he walked up to the couch, his body finally shutting down, and he felt himself fall onto the soft cushions as his world darkened around him.

[heartfullofleeches]

Graduation Teaser

A teaser for my yan final girl and slasher/loser reader fic. Shooting to be done by tomorrow, but no promises. Reader's gender is never stated, but in the full fic they have a penis as there will be smut. Warnings for bullying/Reader having trauma from said bullying

-

"Class of 20XX, bitches!"

They say its supposed to be the highlight of any young adult's life.

The crossroads between the freedom of youth and the cruel reality those just stepping out into the world have to face.

You wish...

You've known that reality for a long time now. Whenever your alarm rang for school. Everytime you hid in crowds and bathrooms praying for just one normal day. When you had to learn how to treat cuts and cover bruises- That bitter, spiteful reality has beaten you, broken you, and spat you back years before your life truly began...

And now the culprits would meet their happy end.

You could see them on the stage now- Smiling and waving to family. Hugging each other and shedding a fraction of the tears you've spilled over the years with more happiness than your anguish filled heart had known since it all began. You nearly lost what little food you've been able to keep down when the girl that said your value as a person was the equivalent of that of roadkill cried over the microphone about starting school to become a nurse. It's not a big surprise to you, really, but the thought of what her future patients will have to endure or being one of those patients made you sick to your stomach. Why did they make this ceremony mandatory-

You can't do it- You can't be here anymore. Why do you have to sit through everyone who's either made your life hell or turned a blind eye to your suffering have the time of theirs? It's not fair, just looking at their happy faces makes you short of breath. As you catch it, pulling on the tight collar of your robes - you overhear whispers in the surrounding crowd. Your name slips through a few pairs of lips here and there, and it's like you've been dragged kicking and screaming back to the not-so long passed yesteryears of the past. A body moves in the endless, suffocating sea. They push through and politely decline the advances of friends and acquaintances, clearing their way towards your general direction. A smile perfected by braces they cried about and still had to wear proceeding into college singles you out and fills your chest with dread.

Oh God... Not her.

You cross your middle finger with your index. Please be looking for someone else....

"H-hey! Glad I was able to catch you before you left."

Please, please, please- You whip your head around violently as if searching for some fictitious third party. Huffing, the girl snaps the manicured talons she called nails in your face. Your entire body locks up as her nails graze your cheek. You attempt to relax your shoulders with little gained in your favor, hoping the only slight tension in your muscles would be enough for her not to notice-

But as always, luck laughs at your pitiful prayers.

She places a hand over her mouth. "Oh, gosh- Did I scare you? I just thought you didn't hear me."

It's a struggle to force yourself to look at her. You stare anywhere close enough to her eyes to hopefully give off the impression of making eye contact. The freckles kissing the bridge of her nose. Curly strands of chestnut hair dangling from the wild mane she styled herself for the occasion and refused to stuff beneath a cap. Anything to keep you from looking into those eyes. Anything to prevent believing a word she says. She seemed happy enough just having your attention.

"I heard you, but-" You swallow, tongue feeling swollen and drilled to the floor of your mouth. You force a bit of laughter that sounds more like a bark in your ears. "I thought you were talking to someone else. Big crowd, y'know?"

Her hands fall to her chest as she exhales a sigh of relief. "Oh, Good. You've avoided me so much in school I thought you might've been terrified of me!"

What a crazy assumption.

"Aaaanyways, that's part of the reason I wanted to talk to you. Got any plans for the summer?"

Yes. Say yes. Even if it's a lie, just say-

"No."

Stupid.

"Yay!" She claps her hands together, bouncing on her heels like a child who's been given permission to stay up an hour later than their bedtime. She clears her throat, smile wavering as a blush something furious rushes to her pale cheeks. "Well, not that you have nothing to do. Since you have no plans, I was kinda maybe sorta hoping you come out with and a small group of friends to my parents cabin for a couple nights. Won't take up too much of your summer. I was just hoping we could make some final memories to cherish before we all go off to college."

She's talking as if you were apart of that group. Your eyes shoot over her shoulder, following the trail she came from. There's still enough people pushed aside that you can see the little gathering she was with before. They're all there. Ali. Bailey. Michael. Luke. Every single classmate that made you beg your parents to move you to a new school til your throat felt liked it'd bleed. Of course they said no. Too many opportunities here, and to get to any other school near-by on time you'd have to wake up when the night was still young. The world around you feels so distant until the pain of your nails piercing your palm racks up your arm.

"I... actually might be doing something around that time."

"But I haven't given you anything specific yet."

You take a step back, foot catching in your robes. It felt like you were drowning in them, and her gaze. They'd definitely kill you out there or do something much, much worse. There probably wouldn't even been enough pieces for people to find. Nobody would even look for someone like you.

"Y/n?"

Your wrists is in her hands. When did that happen? She pulls you upright and smoothes out your robes. She's a lot stronger than her gentle skin and shorter height would let on. Seriously, it's like touching cotton. A few years back her touch might've meant something, but now even thorns would feel like a soft blanket if they kept you safe from here.

"I know you haven't had the best experiences with us, but it's not just me asking you to come. Everyone wants to apologize to you. Make amends wherever we can. I promise I won't let anyone hurt you ever again."

Shes told that lie before. Her knuckles brush your cheek, stroking the bone in tiny circles that instinctively draws your attention towards her and lowers your guard. Looking up, your eyes lock for the first time during the duration of your conversation.

"Y/n... I need you to be there."

You stare into her eyes....

You're going to die out there.

[aching-tummies]

2h Tummy Ache

Experienced 2+ hours of a really bad stomach ache today. And I think I now have a clear and definitive answer for the worst stomach ache I have ever experienced.

I decided to let myself sleep in for an extra hour before navigating transit to get to my campus (90 minutes on transit 'cuz transfers are a mess). I usually leave earlier to avoid the crowding on transit because there have been some days where the driver refuses to accept any more riders because their bus is dangerously full of people. The absolute last bus that'll get to me and have me arrive at campus on-time is usually packed pretty full, so I intentionally leave an hour or two early to avoid the crowding when I can. Today, I decided to risk the overcrowding to allow myself an extra hour of sleep. The gamble paid off and I got to campus on-time.

Unfortunately, I was still pretty sleepy despite sleeping in. I powered through my morning but I immediately sought out coffee upon reaching campus. Nearest coffee shop without a ridiculous line had a caramel latte thing as the only thing I recognized on the menu, so I got that. Again--caramel, espresso shot, and the rest of the thing is milk. Today, I got it hot rather than chilled…so…more milk in the cup compared with the chilled version 'cuz there's no ice to make up for the volume difference.

Went to my classes, nursing the milky drink the whole morning. Classes let out in the afternoon and I had plans to meet up with friends immediately after--across town…so I booked it to the transit station in hopes of making it to the other side of the city in time to meet up and not keep my friends waiting.

I had forgotten to refill my waterbottle on campus before I left so the only drink I had on-hand during the transit ride was my caramel latte. I drank that on the train and finished it midway through the ride. Roughly 16oz of milky, sugary espresso down the hatch over the course of 2.5 hours as of 1PM.

I got to the meet-up spot and we were off, hitting up various locations around town to hit up everything everyone wanted to see. Everyone works and has different things going on in their lives so time to meet up together is impossible to work out…so when such a rare opportunity presented itself, we jumped on it. I wasn't going to let a tummy ache de-rail my outing with friends I have not met up together with in over four years. we've met one-on-one a few times, but an outing with all of us?! We haven't done that since we were all 'just students'.

First stop was at a nearby mall to get some food. We all went to a food court and got our own food to eat together. After that we hit up the shops for a bit before piling into the one car and hitting up various other shops around the city. Some of us had errands like returning library books or picking up cold and flu medicine for a younger sibling or whatever so we did all that too. In total we were out for a good two hours together after getting lunch.

My stomach started to hurt after lunch, honestly. Most of it was lower-belly stuff. Milk-cramps--my intestines cramping up 'cuz I guess they decided they forgot what dairy is or how to handle it today. Sharp, crampy twinges started jolting through my belly, centred under my navel as I sat in the back seat and tried not to writhe, squirm, or moan. There were three other people in the car and I did not want to draw attention to my tummy or reveal the toxic ache brewing in my guts. This was literally just after lunch and there were at least four different shops around the city to hit up. Not to mention all the stops that we didn't plan for when someone saw something they wanted to check out since we were already there and all.

Throughout the course of the next two hours, the cramps came in waves and got more and more painful with each one. Half an hour after the start of the tummy ache, I'd given in and discreetly slid my hand under my waistband to massage at my crampy lower belly behind my bag--being super discreet and praying that my guts wouldn't get audibly upset. This was in a small sedan, after all. If my belly started growling, everyone would hear--radio or no radio. An hour into it, I was definitely tense. About an hour and a half into it all, I'd given up on fighting my body and I'd brought my knees up, bracing my knees against the passenger seat in front of me while I had both of my hands squeezing my lower tummy under my bag. I was biting my tongue to prevent whining or whimpering from the crampy aches in my gut.

Our last stop was a local library where the friend driving had books to return (for their family) everyone agreed to enter the library to browse 'cuz nostalgia (parents used to take us to libraries often). The second we entered the library, I split off from the group claiming to be on the hunt for something for my courses. In reality, I went for the washroom on another floor of the library and tended to my stomach until I got the text messages informing me that one of 'em was done and waiting for the rest of us to meet up at the doors to pile back into the car. In total I'd had about 4 minutes to deal with my achy belly in that washroom.

Thankfully, after the library we were all on our way home. The second I got home, I made a beeline for my bed, flopped onto it, and gave my stomach a real massage. I strongly suspect it was the milk. Milk in large quanities tends to upset my stomach in a delayed manner. Like…it won't cause any issues in my stomach or anything, but when it hits my lower guts it starts tying everything in knots.

Send me your best responses. What would you have done? Say you were the other back-seat-passenger and you caught on. What would you have done to me? Kinda hoping for some sadistic responses ^^ Also, just because I posted this, does not mean anything else is off the table. If you wanna send me a response to literally anything else I've ever posted to this blog--go for it. Always welcome. Ideally, gimme enough to know which post you are responding to so that I can link it in the response if/when it gets posted.

[hotpinkrathian]

Ahhhh so I have to admit I have been working on something, it's a very big project for me.

It's 30 000 words long as of now, and I estimate to be about 1/2 - 2/3 of the way through the story. I'm super excited about it, however I don't want to get to a point where I'm almost done and don't finish, which is why I am writing it so much.

I want everyone in the kyalin Fandom to be right there with me when it's ready. So I'm going to do my best to finish it before I start posting.

How would I describe it???

A Kyalin mystery slowburn

Here's a snippet from Chapter 3 (spoilers ahead)

“Here,” Tenzin said, passing Lin a notice.

“So secretive,” Kya joked, pretending to lean over.

“It's not that secret,” Tenzin said, “two more came forward getting letters, bringing the total to-”

“Forty-nine.” Lin finished. The names added to the list weren't familiar to her. An Earth Republic mayor, and a fire nation general. “Something tells me there's one more out there,” Lin said.

“You think? An even 50?”

“Stopping at forty-nine would be good thinking on their end,” Kya said, “I mean, it would have everyone worried over the 50th letter, which doesn't exist.” She elaborated.

Lin raised an eyebrow, shrugging it off.

“What are the odds they get out anyway?” Kya asked.

“You mean the dirt?” Lin clarified.

“Yeah. Are the threats… real? Do you think they actually know something, or is it… broad enough to make yo- people think they did something.”

“Well we've bounced around that idea for a while,” Lin said, “but I think the general consensus was that… they were a little too close for comfort.” She looked to Tenzin, whose harrowing eyes reflected the anxieties of her own.

Her own letter bounced around in the back of brain, waiting to be unpacked. She had divulged so much into dealing with the case, and worrying about Suyin, she hadn't put much thought into how she would deal with the information revealed by her letter.

What she would do.

What she would say.

She didn't inherently think she had anything to be ashamed of, but there were plenty others who wouldn't see it that way.

It would be career ending, perhaps enough to chase her out of town in search of a fresh start.

If Suyin was still alive, Zaofu could make for a nice retirement place.

“Excuse me for a moment,” she said, getting up. She made for the bathroom down the hall, but instead opened the window at the end of the hall.

Delicately, and with precision, even in her wine-induced stupor, she climbed outside, hanging onto the ledge.

She'd done it a thousand times in her teen years. Scaling the air temple had been a right of passage, and a necessity, when she was with Tenzin.

It was second nature to her as she hauled herself to the upper floor.

Luckily, the window wasn't locked and she got back inside with ease.

She walked quietly down the hall, praying she didn't wake the kids. It was as she remembered. Almost nothing had changed, and a strange wave of deja vu overcame her.

It ended when she entered the left door, and not the right.

Kya's room was one she hadn't been in much, especially as she got older. It looked as she had envisioned. It was tasteful and colorful. Lin envied her ability to pick out pictures and tapestries of varied colors, still managing to make them go together.

First she checked the nightstand, which had a lot of interesting things, but nothing she was looking for.

She checked the duffle bag on the chair, nothing but clothes and towels.

She sighed, looking around.

She noticed the bed was lifted slightly off the floor. Tenzin used to keep… stuff under his bed.

Perhaps these airhead all thought alike.

She got on her knees before laying herself gently onto her stomach.

She outstretched an arm under the bed, feeling around until her palm landed on a box.

She pulled it out, and allowed herself to stand up before setting it on the bed and opening it.

The unmistakable waxy green seal.

The inky handwriting on the back with a clear name designation.

The clear indication that it had been open and removed multiple times.

She held it in her hand, her fingers frozen.

Fifty

[em1e]

⠀ ⠀ ༝ i had all and then most of you, some and now none of you. take me back to the night we met.

⠀ ⠀バジ // THE NIGHT WE MET ⠀ ༝ ༝ baji keisuke ⠀ ༝ ༝ 3.5k words ⠀ ༝ ༝ angst xp things were looking a little to happy here ⠀ — baji hasn’t changed. won’t. not for you, not for anyone else.

     ༝ march 16, 2011

moving his stuff into boxes shouldn’t sting as much as it does. 

old t-shirts, framed pictures, small gifts exchanged for anniversaries . . . a stupid necklace that took weeks for you to take off after you initiated the no-contact. 

it all goes into cardboard boxes, taped shut and shoved into the farthest corner of your apartment waiting to be picked up. you leave a text to the now unsaved number saying everything was packed, and sit on your couch anxiously waiting for a reply. 

the ding of your phone makes you jump, realizing your apartment was much quieter than you thought. you pull your lip between your teeth, unsure if it’s worth it to actually check it. it’s been over a month, your previous message ingrained in your memory. 

please don’t message me again.         read 2/10/11 

you hold your breath and quickly flip your phone face-up. like ripping off a band-aid, you remind yourself, though your eyes are screwed shut. it’s not like the message would even be marked as read through your homescreen, but the anxiety coursing through your veins is relentless. 

forcing yourself to exhale, you tap the screen twice to wake it up, and read the message as quickly as your eyes allow. it’s easy, given all it reads is an “Okay.” followed by a thumbs up. 

that itself leaves you with a pit in your stomach, bunching your shirt in your fists and taking a minute to just sit and breath. nothing bad would come out of this, right? no arguments, no reviving the flame, nothing that shouldn’t be allowed. he’ll grab the boxes, pile them some way onto his bike, and leave without a word. 

you’re trying to convince yourself baji could have changed, in some way, in the last month. that he’d finally learned when to shut his big mouth and keep it that way. 

a small part of you nags yourself. it’s a stupid thing to think. baji hasn’t changed. won’t. not for you, not for anyone else. but that part of you still hopes, prays that maybe he has. 

the knock that follows a few hours later startles you, well aware he was coming at some point, but not when. you wipe your hands on your sweats, pausing your prep for dinner to go unlock the door. you close your eyes for a second, take in a small breath and exhale. like ripping off a band-aid. you twist the knob and pull the door open. 

a mop of black hair fills your vision, and the sight of him leaves your chest twisting with an ache. you stare at each other for a second, before you’re taking a step back wordlessly, suddenly very awkward in your own home. 

he comes in and looks around, eyes scanning over the little changes he can notice - the framed pictures you guys took are missing from your walls and it makes the room look so much emptier. they snap to you when you reach to anxiously play with the necklace he gave, very aware of any movement your figure seems to make, and a ghost of a frown falls onto his lips when your fingers find nothing to grab. you try to play it off as scratching at your chest, but he knows just as well as you do. 

he’s always been good at reading you. 

you clear your throat, nodding to the corner where three boxes sit neatly stacked together, “everything’s over there.” 

your own voice sounds foreign to you. so soft, quiet, as if you breaking the silence would be the end of anything and everything you’ve been building back up since things ended. 

he’s almost surprised, seeing that he left so much behind when he thought he’d packed everything he had. part of him supposes it’s other miscellaneous things the two of you have gathered over the years, and he’s glad chifuyu at the very least let him bring the van from the pet shop so he wouldn’t have to make multiple trips back on his bike. 

he grabs two of the boxes, stacking them on top of one another, and looks to the third, then to you, as a silent request for assistance. you pull your lip between your teeth, ultimately deciding the quicker they’re out of your apartment, the quicker he will be, too. the quicker you can go back to trying to forget about him. 

with one box in hand, you pull open the door and shut it behind you while he leads the way down your apartment’s steps and out to the parking lot. he opens the vans door by himself, pushing the boxes into the floorboard, then takes the one in your hands. his fingers brush against yours when he does it, and the action has you pulling your hand back faster than intended, leaving him to readjust his grip quickly or risk the box falling completely out of his grasp. 

the look he sends you has you shrinking in on yourself, despite there being no hostility in it. just disappointment, followed by sadness from the way his lip turns down. he shoves that box on top of the other two, and turns to face you. 

“listen,-” he starts, but you're quick to stop whatever rabbit hole he plans to go down. 

“don’t. please don’t.” 

“you don’t even know what i'm gonna say.” 

“i don’t need to.” your arms curl in around yourself, not looking at him. like you’re trying to make yourself smaller. trying to disappear on him. he frowns at the thought. 

“don’t do that.” he says quietly, nails digging into the palm of his hand. 

you shouldn’t ask. you know how it’ll end, but you can’t help but want some form of interaction with him for the last time, even if it means it ends with you far more hurt than before. “do what?”

“act like you don’t give a fuck, or like you don’t want to try and fix this or like you don’t-” he stops when you push him back by his shoulders, shaking your head, and despite it barely moving him, it has his teeth clenching and eyes narrowing. he grabs your wrists when you go in for a second shove, ignoring the way you try to pull yourself away. 

“i’m not the one who didn’t give a fuck, keisuke,” you snap, lip quivering, “and i’m not the one who didn’t try to fix everything. don’t you dare put this on me when it was you who made it so clear how much i meant to you.” 

the reply is enough to leave his grip wavering, and you take the opportunity to pull yourself from his grasp, cradling your arms to yourself as if you’re afraid he’ll go for a second grab. 

he opens his mouth to say something, anything, but he can’t seem to find the proper words to mend this, and that itself is enough to leave you turning on your heel, ignoring the way calls you to come back, ignoring the way him saying your name makes your chest ache, and when you stumble back into your apartment with tears welling in your eyes, you’re left with that sick bitter reminder. 

baji hasn’t changed. won’t. not for you, not for anyone else.

      ༝ december 23, 2010

you check the time for the fifth time of the night, tapping your foot anxiously as if that could somehow make him appear in front of you. 

by some miracle, it seems to work, the lock to your shared apartment turning. it’s followed by the door pushing open, and your disheveled boyfriend stumbling in, clumsily closing it behind him while he kicks off his shoes. 

two hours. that’s what you’d waited for him to show up. two hours, and he comes in drunk, with the smell of alcohol wafting off of him in waves. 

“hey baby,” he grins when he sees you, coming towards the couch to give you a kiss, but frowning when you stand and step away from him, “s’wrong?” 

“you are unbelievable,” you can’t help but scoff, and he has the audacity to look surprised. 

“what’re you talkin’ about?” he moves to pull you towards him, but you’re all too aware of this, taking a step away to keep your distance. 

“our anniversary!” it’s then baji takes in the way you're dressed- hair done neatly, your favorite going-out attire hugging your figure nicely, with the necklace he gave you last year sitting pretty around your neck. 

by the time he’s fully processed it, you’re moving past him to your shared bedroom. 

“whatever, fucking forget it.” you’re undoing all your work while walking down the hall, already in the process of discarding all your clothes in favor of pajamas when he stumbles behind you into the room. 

“hang on a sec,” he hiccups, “we can still go out, s’not too late.” he’s pulling the shirt you’re trying to change into out of your hands and trying to give you back the one you’d previously had, but you pull the former back with a glare. 

“i waited two hours, keisuke! i texted you all day about it, i left reminders on the fridge, and at the pet shop! and you’re already too drunk to go do anything.” you add the last part with a whisper, bitter taste coming up from your stomach and settling in your mouth, “there’s no point.” 

three years. three years you’d been with him, and still the importance of one fucking day is lost on him. 

“‘m sorry baby,” he frowns, reaching for you. the frown grows when you pull away, tugging on shorts, “‘fuyu and i jus’ had a good day in sales today, kazutora said we should drink to celebrate and i lost track of time.”

more like forgot altogether. 

“whatever.” you say dismissively, dejected, and part of you wishes you’d gone out with hina like she invited you to. at least then, you’d be drunk too and could laugh it off. 

“really am sorry.” he’s reaching for you again, and you can’t find it in yourself to pull away, “make it up to you tomorrow.” 

he presses a kiss to your forehead, then pulls you towards the bed, discarding his own clothes until he’s in just his boxers, and clambers under the blankets, patting the spot beside him. you follow without complaint, and he’s out cold in less than ten minutes. 

you find yourself unable to sleep like that, gently shimmying out from the covers and grabbing the blanket on the back of the couch before deciding to settle there for the night. left alone with your thoughts swarming, your sadness soon being replaced by anger. you fall asleep there with fire on your tongue. 

when baji wakes up, he has a killer headache. you aren’t beside him, he notes dully, and one glance to the alarm clock by the bed tells him it should be too early for you to be awake. 

the smell of coffee hits his nose, and he finds himself pulling on sweatpants and following the smell. you’re in the kitchen, blanket usually on the couch draped around your shoulders, and you don’t acknowledge him while you sip on your cup. 

he’s grabbing some tylenol from the cabinet when you finally open your mouth. 

“have fun last night?” 

he doesn’t miss the way the words fall bitterly from your lips, or the way your fingers absentmindedly grip your mug a little tighter. 

“we’ll go out today,” he says instead of answering, “just need to shower and-” he’s cut off by you slamming the cup down, surprised it doesn’t shatter in your grasp from the force. 

“i don’t want to go out today, keisuke. today isn’t our anniversary.” 

his lips twitch to a scowl. no way you’re still bitter, right? 

“well yesterday is already over. so you have today or next year.” 

he doesn’t miss the way you scoff, or the way your hands clench the blanket around your shoulders. 

“what was so important?” you find yourself asking, unable to look at him. 

“the hell are you talking about?” he chugs a glass of water with the pills he previously grabbed. 

“what could’ve been so important you get shitfaced two hours after your shift knowing we had plans?” you clarify, and his jaw clenches at what you could be implicating. his head just seems to throb more, and the thought of an argument does not help. 

“i told you last night, we had good sales and the boys wanted to celebrate-”

“we had these plans for three weeks,” you ration desperately, “three!.” you hold up that number of fingers as if it will help emphasize, and baji shoves your hand from his face with his brow twitching. 

“stop talking to me like i’m an idiot.” and the fact that he’s derailing the issue to that makes you angrier.

“it’s like you don’t even care,” you scoff, retreating from the kitchen and to the living room. he notes the displacement of some pillows as he follows you, how the cushions aren’t exactly how they should be. 

“you sleep out here last night?” 

“does it matter?” you sit on the couch, exhausted from the conversation and from being treated so poorly, but the idea of mentioning it brings more pain than you’d like to think about. 

“yes,” he sits beside you and wraps an arm around your shoulders, pulling you towards him with little resistance. he presses a kiss to your hair, whispering apology after apology, “‘m sorry for being such a shitty boyfriend,” he starts, “and ‘m sorry for not taking things as seriously as i should. i’ll be better, i promise.” 

you’re fine with that, you think. despite knowing his promises are empty, you’re fine with thinking right now they aren’t. if it means the tension will leave your body, you’ll believe anything he’d say. 

      ༝ july 07, 2009

the air is warm around you, humid, when baji picks you up from your apartment for your date. 

he grins when he sees you come down the steps, two at a time to throw yourself into his arms, and almost loses his balance if not for him leaning against his bike for support. 

“you look cute,” his grin widens when you flush, pinching his cheek with a smile, “miss me?”

“always.” you hum, standing on your toes to press a kiss to his lips. he accepts it greedily, hands finding your waist to pull you closer to him and keep you there, but you’re pulling away before he can get too carried away. 

“we’re gonna be late for the movie,” you laugh, offering him a quick peck when he pouts. 

“just the previews,” he argues, chasing you when you pull away from him, “maybe the opening credits too,” his lips press against yours, “and the beginning scenes.” another kiss. 

“no way,” you break away from the curse he has on you with a smile, “i’ve been wanting to see this since i read the book.” just one more kiss, then you’re pushing him to climb onto the bike, following behind him once he’s settled. 

in hindsight, you could’ve skipped the movie altogether. the book was far better, and they didn’t even film your favorite part! but you’re happy you still decided to come out with baji, elated to spend whatever time you can with him. 

though things haven’t been super busy at his shop, chifuyu has been running him ragged to get things in top shape, and most of your own time has been taken by exams and work. it’s a nice break, when you’re with him, and the comfort he brings you spreads warmth from your chest and into the deepest parts of your bones. 

darkness came a while ago, but neither of you can find it in yourself to care when in the deepest parts of roppongi. the cool night air nips at your skin while on baji’s bike, and you find yourself tucking your hands under his shirt in an effort to keep warm while he drives aimlessly through the streets. 

soon you find yourselves on a bridge, and baji stops at the very top and helps you off of the bike when your legs are too shaky with adrenaline to step off on your own.  you giggle when he pulls you towards the railing, pushing your back into the cool bars with him standing in front of you. 

“got you somethin’.” he leans down, lips ghosting over your own.

“oh yeah?” you hum, standing on your toes to meet him halfway, but missing when he pulls back. he grins at the way you pout, arms wrapping around his shoulders as if it would help keep him in place. 

“yeah.” he confirms, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a small box. you eye him, then the box warily, before he’s gesturing for you to take it. 

you do so gently, nimble fingers opening the box and gasping when you see the pretty necklace inside. a silver chain, with a small B at the center. 

“for me?” you can’t help but tease, and baji’s smile widens when he sees you like it. 

“only you,” he kisses your forehead and plucks the box from your grasp, in the process of removing the necklace from it when you open your mouth to complain, “let me put it on ya.” 

you turn, holding your hair out of the way so he can easily clasp it, and he presses a kiss at the nape of your neck once he’s done. it falls nicely at the center of your chest, and baji spins you around with either hand on your shoulders to fully take it in. 

“pretty.” 

you wrap your arms around his torso to pull him closer to you, kissing his nose, “thank you.”  

and the night is settled in each other’s embrace, coming back to your apartment much later than either of you could have anticipated. 

      ༝ april 19, 2008

you’re almost certain you’re at the wrong place. 

the address should be correct, based on what you looked up on google, but the noise from inside the garage has you hesitating from continuing forward. 

with a bit of hyping yourself up, you're stepping past the door and into the garage. inside are three boys, making much more noise than you expected them to be. not one of them notices you as their argument grows heated. 

“-just saying that if she wanted to be with you, she would’ve made a move by now!” argues one with long dark hair, narrowly dodging a wrench that gets thrown his way. 

“and i’m saying she’s shy!” the wrench thrower argues, notably oldest of the three and brushing his shorter black hair out of his face, “it’s been a month! i’m just giving it time to work itself out.” 

“more like losing it altogether,” smallest of the three, the blond hums out, “you’ve never been good with romance shinichiro.”��

‘shinichiro’ visibly deflates, “would it kill you to support me for once mikey?”

“mikey’s just a realist,” the long-haired boy grins, all teeth, “and what kind of friendship would this be if it was built on lies?” 

“a happy one.” shinichiro grumbles, turning to grab something and finally taking you in. “oh . . . um, hi, can i help you?” 

“hi,” you breath out, very aware of the three pairs of eyes now on you, “i um . . . i’m looking for a baji? baji keisuke?” 

two sets of eyes move from you to the boy with long hair, and his own eyes widen for a second before that toothy grin returns. 

“s’me, what can i help you with?”

“left your bag in class,” you offer it when he walks towards you, “i didn’t want it to get stolen or anything. . .” you look away from him, and his head tilts slightly, before he snaps and points at you. 

“you’re in my english class! thought i recognized you.” he opens the bag, digging through it for a second, then pauses, “how’d you know to come here?” 

you flush, bowing your head, “i went through the bag to see if your wallet was it in it -” then straighten yourself, “-for your address! but there was like a bajillion cards for this place in the bottom of the bag and honestly you should probably clean it out because it’s very messy-” you’re talking far quicker than necessary, anxiety increasing when he just smiles at you. 

“you’re cute.” 

you feel your face heat further, turning away from him, “t-that’s all i came for! see you in class!” before you’re walking out of the garage all too quickly and cursing yourself when you’re about a block down the street at how fucking awkward you are. 

“see shinichiro, that’s how you flirt with someone.” 

mikey does not dodge the wrench thrown his way, whining about how mean his big brother is and how he can’t be mean and not know how to flirt, while baji smiles dumbly at the number left on his english notebook. 

[donnerpartyofone]

The little pink brain surrounded by stars and flowers at the end of my computer search bar tells me that it is World Brain Health Day, which is insane but maybe that's appropriate. This was a great year to get my ADHD diagnosis and prescription considering the Very Complicated Things that are happening (mostly fine, just A LOT). I have also become aware that the dose of medical meth that I'm on is helping to manage my severe chronic depression, which is pretty awesome since I have tried what feels like "everything" and nothing really works without some gruesome side effect. The main side effect in this case turns up because I'm working a (roughly) 4 days on, 3 days off schedule as recommended by my doctor to avoid building up a tolerance, and I have begun to notice that on the 2nd-or-so day off I have a bit of a snap-back effect that plunges me into a pit of infinite darkness. It helps to remember that when unmedicated I am OFTEN plunging into a pit of infinite darkness, so this is essentially normal. The most positive version of being unmedicated is that I'm at least "pretty depressed" most of the time, and probably not getting as much done, just schlorping around in a general malaise. Just the getting things done is good for my self-esteem anyway. Work helps too, oddly; when I am completely consumed by a big urgent project, it is hard to find the time and energy to fantasize about being dead. Of course obsessive work causes other kinds of wear and tear, but their negativity is less immediately obvious.

Today I am doing the Extremely Complicated training process to write for this pop culture website you have probably heard of. When I was picked to do this I thought, "This is probably too much work for not enough money," and now I'm realizing that it is actually WAY too much work for not NEARLY enough money. But it's good for someone like me while I still don't have a real job, so I'm coping with this ordeal of doing the online training, thinking I'm done, doing my first assignment, realizing there was way more of the online training but I just didn't click the right button or something, revising my assignment, submitting it, realizing there's still MORE stuff I should have fixed and racing through the assignment making little changes and clicking Save after every single one of them never knowing when somebody's is going to start evaluating it, and just praying for death the best. Then at the same time I heard back from an event organizer who totally refused to communicate with me for the last two months so I just cancelled on them like two weeks ago, and now they're telling me they're so sorry and can we please do the event, and I have to have an annoying back-and-forth with the tricky third party this is dependent on, and do all this other stuff I'm suddenly too tired to describe. And THEN AT THE SAME TIME AS THAT I got invited to write more writing for the super awesome company that sometimes publishes me, also for not enough money on the hour but they're apologetic about that and the writing matters to me (and so does the company). And this is all great but my stomach has turned into a rock and my back muscles are fossilizing and I'm in breathe-on-purpose mode and I'm regretting how much coffee I drank and I wish I could calm down with a beer or even a joint or something, but the beer will actually increase my meth uptake and the joint will add to my anxiety in this state, and so I just have to grind my teeth through this until the day is done. I wish I could play for you guys the earsplitting power tool sound from right next door that has been echoing through the neighborhood since 8 o'clock this morning, just as like the OST to this whole experience, but you'll just have to imagine it! I also meant to apply for Real Jobs today, but now it seems clear that that's not going to happen until tomorrow. The End...FOR NOW.

[mystically-yours]

start of november: not too great

an update on me, my life, and other concerns.

hi guys!! this week has been nothing but stressful, with an event and other stuff and, frankly, it's been terrible. monday was fine — so good that i thought this week would be a breeze.

I was wrong.

since then it spiralled downhill; call after call, search after search, chasing after professors and waiting for late answers. for the past three nights, I've felt unwell, and it has now manifested into a god awful headache and stomach ache. all for those efforts to feel... bastardised.

like all those restless nights, me feeling so bad for falling asleep so easily, and all that preparation felt wasted. I wish I could go back in time and just tell my past self "hey, just bullshit it. they won't even take you seriously over there."

but I'm not willing to think so negatively on a friday night. so, I'll list some stuff that I'm proud of doing:

despite it all, I managed to write. not a lot, but more than what I thought I would seeing the dread this whole week fell upon us.

clearing up and being honest with my irls.

reorganize my stuff and prepare for the trip I'll be attending mid-november.

studying the writing style of two books: one for dialogue, the other for pacing and other stuff.

me being prepared, even when the questions were so... stupid.

there could be more, but these are the ones that I recall for now.

and everyone else... please, take care. I'm not the only one having a hectic week, especially to those affected by the recent US elections—USAmerican or not.

I know this won't be the end. I know I still have a lot to do. I know I wish I could just be living in bliss as I fulfil my dreams and only create art. but then I wouldn't have learned so much if that's the case. I wouldn't see the value of what I enjoy if I'll only be indulging in such for the rest of my life. in moments like now, I'm savouring it.

tomorrow marks another day of endless clicks on the keyboard, and me reading out loud words that frame me to be some sort of out-of-their-mind lunatic. just, I hope and pray, that unlike today—

my efforts will all be worth it.

valor makes the rewards sweeter, but I shall drown in acknowledgement of any form.

thank you for reading all of this. I love you all, and I always look forward to all of you when opening this site. thank you.

xo, eden.

[crackedpumpkin]

|| ᴄᴀᴜɢʜᴛ ʀᴇᴅ ʜᴀɴᴅᴇᴅ || ᴘᴀʀᴛ ꜰɪᴠᴇ ||

a/n: We love a self aware turtle 'round these parts. We're at part five now guys, two more parts to go!!

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This is not how he thought making a new friend would go.

New friends aren’t supposed to make your chest feel funny, much less give you butterflies in your stomach.

And new friends definitely aren’t supposed to look this pretty in his eyes.

“Hi Leo, I’m Y/n.” 

He watches as you hold out your hand for a handshake, and he chuckles in amusement before grabbing it and giving you a playful yet firm shake. He lets go, already missing the warmth your hand provides. 

He tilts his head, admiring the stars and taking in the night sky. It’s peaceful here, with just the both of you. He glances down at you, a soft smile on his lips as he observes the way your eyes reflect the stars, nose scrunched as you smile happily. 

Then you turn and look right at him, and he quickly averts his gaze, his entire body stiffening as his heart begins to pound in his chest. He prays you don’t hear, but he doesn’t dare check.

He hears you clear your throat, willing the pink in his cheeks to disappear before he looks back up. “So, brothers, huh?” 

Leo shrugs. “Brothers.”

The following silence is incredibly awkward, and he catches you glancing at him with hesitance in your eyes.

Oh.

OH.

He realizes all too late that this is your way of making conversation. He sits up straight and coughs. “Yeah, brothers. I have brothers. What about you?”

Good cover Leo; he compliments himself.

“I don’t really have any siblings,” You admit, kicking your feet slightly and looking down at your lap.

“Oh? So you’re an only child, huh, must be great.” He comments absentmindedly.

“Not really; it gets pretty lonely sometimes. I mean, especially since I moved here alone from Arendelle.”

“Oh! I know that kingdom. My brothers went there to get some stuff!” He lights up, finding a common topic to talk about with you.

“Yeah,” You chuckle, the sound like music to his ears. “Honestly, I think it’s pretty lucky that you have siblings. I’d give anything for one.”

“Are you kidding me?” He gives you a deadpan stare, propping his foot up and resting his arm on it. “Siblings are the worst sometimes. Raph never thinks before jumping into things, and sometimes I’m convinced Donnie’s just a step away from overthrowing an entire kingdom.”

“Yeah, but it’s better than being alone.” You point out with a warm smile.

He chuckles, shaking his head. “You poor, naive child.” 

He watches your eyes narrow into a glare, your soft pink lips turning downwards into a frown. “I’m not a child.” You protest.

“Mmhm. Sure.” He’s cut off when you punch his side, clutching the spot and wheezing in mock pain. He half-opens his eyes, hiding a smile at your worried face. He groans, leaning against the wooden frame of the window.

“Oh my goodness, I’m so sorry! Are you okay?” You fret, and he almost loses it from the way your hands hover over his arms hesitantly with worry-filled eyes.

“I don’t know…You’ve really done a number on me this time, Y/n.” He groans out, plastering a wince onto his lips. 

“I don’t have any ointment with me. It’s back at the store. We should go back and treat the wound.” You urge, already looking for ways to safely get down from the tower.

“There is something that would help,” He purses his lips, grinning as he suddenly leans in close, mock pain forgotten. 

“A kiss,” He breathes out with a mischievous smile, his face inches from yours.

It’s worth it, the way your eyes widen before you slam yet another punch into his side that he’s barely affected by. You’re speechless, shoving him away as he dissolves into laughter. He wipes the tears that have formed, smiling widely at your pink cheeks and grouchy expression.

“C’mon, don’t be mad.” He prods your side gently before deciding to give you puppy eyes. You scowl, the blush still evident on your cheeks. 

“..was worried.”

“What was that?” He asks, not really hearing what you said the first time.

“I really was worried.” 

The breath is practically knocked out of him from your words, speechless as a funny feeling begins to stir in his stomach. He looks away at his fingers, beginning to fidget with them. 

“Sorry,” He says guiltily, a flood of shame in his heart. It clenches in his chest as if it were being squeezed tightly. He finds it hard to breathe, not liking that he has made you upset. His gaze is fixated on his fingers, the constant fidgeting only relieving some of his guilt. 

Maybe you didn’t like him anymore. His heart pangs at the thought, lips tugging downwards into a sad frown. He didn’t like that thought. He enjoyed the past few days with you and would miss your friendship.

“It’s okay,” You say after a moment of silence. Leo turns to you, his breath hitching when he meets your soft gaze. The heavy burden in his heart lightens when you smile, his eyes shining with relief. 

“So, what was it like in Arendelle?” He asks, now curious. You hesitate, and he almost misses the flicker of doubt in your eyes. 

“You don’t have to share if you don’t want to.” He adds after a pause. 

You shake your head. “No, it’s fine. You told me about your brothers. Arendelle is great and all, but I haven’t really heard much news about them. My parents rarely send letters. I used to write to them monthly, but the replies slowed until I stopped altogether. I guess they’re busy. Maybe.”

Leo purses his lips, sharing a pained smile. He reaches out, hesitating when his hand is an inch away from your arm. You don’t realize this, busy staring off into the distance with a sad yet wistful smile.

He’s so close. He wants nothing more than to offer you words of comfort to soothe your worries and concerns. All it takes is for his fingers to brush against your skin, to remind you he’s here. That he won’t leave. 

But he stops. He pulls his hand back, fingers curling into a fist as he places it back on his lap. He’s suddenly aware of how close you are, and if he reaches out once more, maybe he could relieve your worries. 

He’s afraid. 

Fear pricks his gut, his hand remaining frozen on his lap as he curls and uncurls his fingers against his sweaty palm. 

He’s so close.

“So, should we head back?” You suggest, breaking him out of his thoughts when you look over with an innocent smile, unaware of the conflict he wrestles with moments earlier.

“Yeah, let’s head back.” He forces a smile, but your hesitant eyes tip him off. “Does this mean I get my bed rights back?” He jokes, relieved when you grin.

“As if you ever had them,” You retort playfully. Leo shifts in his seat, letting you climb onto his back. Your arms settle around his shoulders, resting around his neck with much gentler force than earlier.

He feels the heat creep up his neck to his cheeks, your legs wrapping around his plastron as you almost bury your face into the back of his neck. He flinches at the touch, blinking rapidly with a nervous smile. 

“You alright?” 

“Y-yeah, I’m fine,” He laughs tensely, tripping over his words as his tongue suddenly feels heavy. “I’m just dandy!”

He carefully makes his way down the tower, ensuring it’s not too rocky for you. He finally reaches the bottom, landing carefully on the soft grass. You’re about to get off his back, but he stops you with a simple move of his hands, grasping your arms.

“It’s okay,” He ducks his head, feeling his cheeks flush as he presses his suddenly dry lips together, “I’ll carry you back. Consider it as a bribe for letting me continue working there.”

You can’t see the panic in his eyes, right?

He feels you reluctantly settle on his shell, your cheek pressed against his shoulder. He makes his way back in silence, inhaling sharply as he jumps from rooftop to rooftop, landing on the tiles silently.

He reaches the store all too soon, entering through the bedroom window. You get off his back, and every cell in his body is filled with nervous anticipation.

“Leo, wait.” Your hesitant voice makes him pause. He looks at you questioningly, surprised when you pull out the key from your drawer, unlocking the cupboard in which you had kept his katanas. 

You grab the hilts, and he’s impressed by how you hold them with ease. 

“Here.” You hold them out towards him, and he takes them from your hands, at a loss for words. “I just thought that you might miss those, is all.” 

“I did,” He accepts the swords with a tender smile, not even glancing at them as he holds them at his side. Instead, his eyes are trained on your blushing figure and how you’re trying to find the right words to say.

“So, uh, goodnight?” His words come out a question, rubbing the back of his neck and looking at anywhere in the room but you.

“...Yeah, goodnight.” You answer, and he’s a hundred percent sure that your voice comes out just as nervous as his. He turns, heading to the couch he calls his bed. However, he trips over a loose floorboard, yelping and landing on his face with a loud groan.

“Are you okay?” You scramble to help him up, and he almost rips his arm away from your shoulders as his lips part, repeatedly opening and closing his mouth, speechless. He spots the hurt that flickers across your eyes, feeling guilt once more. 

“Sorry, I think I’m just really….tense? from all the…the guards.” He stammers out, looking away. He feels a gentle touch on his wrist, looking down to see your hand grazing against his as you send him a reassuring smile.

“It’s okay. Just rest well, Leo.”

His heart almost stops in his chest, cheeks instantly turning red when you say his name. He coughs, quickly turning and walking towards the doorway. He pauses at the door frame, glancing at you once more. 

“Goodnight.” 

— — — — — — — — 

He can’t sleep. 

Leo tosses and turns on the sofa, throwing off the warm blanket that covers most of his body (it wasn’t his fault that he had a significant growth spurt!). 

You.

Why were you on his mind?

It’s so annoying, he seethes. All he wants is to sleep, but not even his body and brain are willing to give him a break! 

He grabs a pillow, pushing it down on his face as he groans. Tonight was fun, he has to admit. He moves the pillow down to expose his snout to breathe, staring up at the ceiling as a wistful smile stretches his lips upwards, recalling how the stars shone in your eyes as if you were the night sky itself. Mysterious, yet so beautiful.

He snaps himself out of it with a quick slap to his cheek, wincing when his hand makes contact and rubbing the burning skin after. What on earth was he thinking? 

Maybe a night walk would help.

He sits up, risking a quick scan of the room to check if you had somehow snuck up on him. He avoids the squeaky floorboards, grabbing the pair of katanas he placed next to him.

He wanders the empty streets, the silence giving him time to think. The past few days had been the most fun he’s had in a long while.

He didn’t want to leave. 

The realization strikes him in the gut, and his breath comes short. He leans against the wall, the hood covering his face as his usual smile wavers. 

But he has to leave sometime, he has a whole family to return to! He can’t just abandon his brothers, much less his dad. 

But they’d be fine without him, wouldn’t they? 

He imagines every day with you, exchanging friendly banter as you work through the day with bright smiles and contagious laughs. His heart leaps in his chest, already longing for the morning to come when he can experience that again.

No. Leo shakes his head, trying to rid his delusions. He wouldn’t be accepted into society. He’s a turtle yokai, after all. 

But if it’s you…

No! 

He groans, stopping and hitting his head repeatedly against the stone wall to rid the utter headache caused by the wrestling of his emotions. He spots a random pebble on the street, kicking it in frustration and watching it land far away with a loud clatter. 

“Hey! Who’s there?” He freezes at the sudden voice, looking up with wide eyes to see a familiar guard looking at him with anger-filled eyes. 

“Hi Gary, how’s the wife?” He greets him sheepishly with a slight wave.

“Get him!!” Gary yells, attracting the attention of the nearby patrol. Leo starts to run, feet pumping front and back in a rhythm to avoid getting captured. He skids to a stop on the street he’s on, yelping when he sees more guards coming from the front. He glances around, spotting an alleyway. 

He goes there, hands grabbing his swords that swing unsteadily on his waist. He jumps at the sudden appearance of a horse, the katanas slipping from his sweaty hands. 

Maximus. 

The famous horse known for making almost all crime disappear from the kingdom overnight.

He regards Leo with a wary gaze, eyeing the katanas on the floor. The thief notices this, immediately dropping and snatching them up before taking off into a run once more. Maximus neighs loudly, taking chase.

God, how had he been so careless? 

During the time working with you in the bakery, he’s already forgotten that he’s still a wanted thief being hunted down by the kingdom. He lets a curse slip from his lips, ducking to avoid the low archway of the street. 

“Hey guys, sorry, but I can’t stay out too late. Whaddaya say we continue this another day!” He suggests with a tense smile, only to frown when Maximus snorts from a distance behind him.

“Oh shut up, you’re just a horse! Go eat apples or something!” Leo exclaims, “Woah!” He yelps, ducking the frying pan that the horse flings at him. Maximus whinnies angrily, nostrils flaring.

“Tough crowd,” Leo mutters, skidding to a stop and suddenly turning into another alleyway. 

Just his luck. He hears the storming of footsteps running in his direction, practically having attracted the attention of every single guard in town. He runs past many forked roads, guards running down and blocking each possible route for escape. 

He spots an empty alleyway nearby, sensing his stamina run low. He runs inside, relieved when he doesn’t see anyone inside. He turns, Maximus already standing in the only path of exit.

“It’s just you and me, horse.” Leo grins, only for it to waver when he sees the smug look on Maximus’s face. The horse stomps its foot on the ground, and Leo’s instantly surrounded by the tips of spears that just barely prick his skin.

“Where did you all come from??” He’s absolutely baffled by their sudden appearance, but the comment doesn’t amuse the guards. They press the tips of their spears against his skin, almost drawing blood.

He gulps, smiling sheepishly as he tries to avoid getting stabbed.

“So…How’s everyone?” 

— — — — — — — — 

“I’m sorry?” 

You repeat in disbelief, looking at an excited Margaret who’s practically beaming. 

“I said they caught the thief that attempted to steal the kingdom’s supply of uranium!” She repeats, crossing her arms. “Jeez, you’re not in good condition today, are you?”

No. This can’t be.

You spot the newspaper boy walking past your store, practically shoving the loaves into her arms as you run outside. She watches you leave, baffled by your reaction.

“Brandon!” You pant, calling out to him. The young boy turns to you with a grin. 

“One newspaper for you, Miss Y/n?” He asks. You nod, anxiousness starting to crawl into your stomach. “I’ll pay you back later; just hand me one now, please.” You urge. 

Brandon passes you the top one from the pile on his back, and you freeze when your eyes land on the front page. Dread fills your soul, eyes wide in panic as you read the headline.

“Shocking News as Local Horse Hero Captures Wanted Yokai Thief!”

[noxexistant]

Hiya! this might be really out of the blue but Ive been thinking about mother Delancey recently and like, what do you think happened to her? what do you think her relationship was like with Oscar and Morris if she was ever around?

hi! don’t you worry, i am literally always down to be asked literally anything about the delanceys - and i’m particularly excited about this question, because i do have a lot of thoughts about both of the delanceys’ parents. there’s lots of things i’ve slipped into fics in sort of one-off mentions, but haven’t been able to properly do anything with just yet, but i definitely have a lot of ideas. the topic of the delanceys’ mother interests me a lot, particularly how oscar “i guess he didn’t take care of me” delancey doesn’t mention her once.

cw suicide, mental health issues, abuse, standard my-delanceys stuff

first off, just to establish my basis in my own personal lil universe: ‘delancey’ isn’t their real name. oscar made it up on the spot - based on a nearby signpost - when snyder asked for their family name and he couldn’t stomach saying their father’s. i don’t have a solid idea for their real last name, i believe blaze uses ‘williams’ - i just like it as this clear distinction between the delanceys and their parents. not even a name linking them. harder to trace them, behind the rumours that follow them and race who knows their father’s face only because he saw them kicking it in.

their mother was deeply mentally ill. deeply emotionally absent too, checked out in the face of this clearly volatile relationship the boys had with their father, one which i imagine involved a lot of violence from a very early age. both boys are unwanted, a bastard and a son tying their mother to this man she had to marry to rectify mistakes she’d already made - oscar - and now she’s stuck, she’s here, on this isolated farm with nothing but her awful family to cling to. she ignores the boys being hurt and neglected and mistreated, out of this mixture of self-preservation and her own resentment for them - she hurts them plenty too, on her bad days - and it’s so much easier just to drink and drift. pointless to get involved, defending boys she doesn’t care to defend. her focus is survival, just living one day to the next with whatever she has to do and take and think to cope. she gets a factory job when the farm starts failing and money gets tight, and suddenly she’s gone long hours working too hard rather than sitting for hours listlessly at the dining room table or on the porch, often praying endlessly and muttering hail marys. and then suddenly she’s dead. it’s almost like she was never there in the first place.

i see her having bipolar or something adjacent. something the boys understood as something unpredictable, pushing and pulling her between good days where she’d be absentminded and daydreaming, and bad days where she’d be on a hair trigger to attack them or start screaming over anything they’d done. she’s overworked and overwrought, a woman who needed help and love and never got either, so the boys only ever really knew her as a shell of a person. a ghost of a mother. morris loved her most, desperate for her attention and most likely to get it, albeit just in a brief stroke of his hair he’d struggle not to flinch away from, but oscar resented her. cut all his own desire for her love into pieces and sharpened them into hatred, same as he did for their father.

she killed herself when the boys were still living on the farm, maybe about ten and twelve years old, just a year or so before their father disappeared and they both left for the streets and then the refuge. their father never told them that she killed herself, just came home drunk a few days after the fact and told them she was dead - they assumed it was a factory accident - but wiesel let it slip to oscar years later while spouting cruelty at him. maybe she threw herself from a factory window, from a bridge, into the hudson. it’s a secret oscar keeps fiercely from morris, though he lives terrified that someday wiesel’ll tell morris, drunk and angry and mean, just like he told oscar.

(i also think that jack’s dad killed himself, and it adds a whole other element because Foils.)

oscar thinks a lot about catholic views on suicide and whether ma would’ve made it to heaven, whether pa might. he doesn’t even know if either was baptised, and he’s pretty sure suicide sends you to hell anyhow, but he tries not to think about it. tries not to think about their mother in general, a woman who never did much for them except doom them to being alive and then leave them to it. a sentence she couldn’t even serve herself. he thinks about her whenever he sees the virgin mary, madonna, our lady. he thinks about the prayer cards she kept, and sometimes tore to shreds when she was having episodes. he thinks about her looking on, emotionless, whatever their father was doing. he thinks about her silhouette at the dining table. she was beautiful, beneath everything. morris looks just like her.

morris feels a lot of sympathy for her - or tries to. he searches for answers in his prayers, in his sleepless nights. he wonders if he might’ve done something wrong for her not to love him or oscar. unlike with pa, it’s harder for him to think that his beatings from her weren’t caused by him being bad, deserving it. when oscar spits disparaging words about her, spits on her memory in his bitterest moments - usually when morris brings her up - morris will argue for her. even if it gets him hit just like how she used to hit, a sudden manic burst of anger that leaves him reeling, oscar breathing hard with that fire in his eyes and looking like ma even with all of pa in his face, morris will defend her. try to remember her face and fail, only able to see her silhouetted in lamplight. see her in his own reflection, if he catches himself at the right angle.

if their dad’s a monster loose on the city, she’s a ghost haunting them.

[some-little-infamy]

Chapter 2- You Don’t Want What You Saw, but You Saw What You Wanted

(Read on AO3) (Read from Chapter 1) 

Unfortunately, there are several other places Steve probably should be, like checking in with the rest of his band to make sure their stuff is ready to go on to their next show, meeting back up with Nancy and Jonathan who are expecting him any minute now, and also eating. Steve was waiting until after his set to go grab food and he’s starving, but instead of finding some lunch with his friends, he ignores the sound of his rumbling stomach while the first few notes of Corroded Coffin’s warm-up reach him backstage.

Steve grabs his phone and prays he has enough service back here to send a quick text to Nancy.

‘Hey. Something came up and I can’t meet with you guys right now. Not sure when I’ll be free, grab food without me.’

The reply is almost immediate.

‘Did someTHING come up, or someONE?’ Nancy’s message comes through followed by the eyes emoji.

He loves and hates in equal measure how well his friends know him.

‘You wouldn’t believe me if I told you. I’ll fill you in later, promise.’

Steve’s played enough shows to know better than to risk leaving and getting back before Eddie’s set is over. There’s never as much time as you think there is, especially with crowds like these.

While he waits he scrolls through Twitter, specifically searching through the #Decide tag to see what people say about their performance. He knows it’s a gamble and everyone tells him not to do it, but he can’t help it. He’s too curious for his own good. Scrolling through the most recent posts he sees at least three positive ones for every negative one. Steve knows he won’t be everyone’s favorite - Eddie made that pretty damn clear after all - but it’s still reassuring to see more good than bad.

After a particularly cruel tweet he closes the app with a frown and turns his attention over to what he can see of Corroded Coffin as they start their performance. The downside of backstage means he misses a lot of the center-stage theatrics, but they sound spectacular even from here. He slips around to get a decent view of the side stage to watch Eddie toss his hair as he struts - because that isn’t just a walk, that’s definitely the stage presence of a strut - across the stage.

The only thing that manages to draw his attention away from his crush over the next half an hour is the buzzing of his phone in his pocket when Nancy sends him several photos of her and Jonathan eating a plate of loaded waffle fries that Steve would sell his soul for. He’s just thinking about how he hopes Eddie will be up for food to go with those drinks when the music stops, fading into the sound of enthusiastic cheering as Eddie and his bandmates walk backstage, clapping each other on the back with congratulations of a successful show.

Steve stays out of the way while they wrap up the instruments and equipment. Part of him wants to offer to help but he’s been in the industry long enough to know how particular a lot of artists are about their stuff.

“Still up for those drinks?” Steve asks as the last of the mic cords are coiled.

“Absolutely,” Eddie replies. “If we go now most of the fans will still be here for another hour or two. Maybe we can avoid the worst of them.”

Steve almost forgets that Eddie’s only referring to himself and not both of them.

“Sounds good,” he agrees.

“Do you gotta check in with your group at all?” Eddie asks, glancing around.

“They’ll wait for me, don’t worry,” Steve says with a smirk. He knows he’s playing a dangerous game and he also knows that he should just be honest… but he hasn’t exactly lied, either. He’s just allowed Eddie to make certain assumptions and hasn’t corrected them. That isn’t the same thing - at least that’s what he tells himself on the way to the bar.

“Did you like the set?” Eddie asks as they walk.

“Of course,” Steve says. “I haven’t seen you put on a bad show yet.”

“You’ve seen us before?” Eddie sounds surprised. “I didn’t realize you were a fan.”

“My taste isn’t all bad,” Steve jokes.

To Eddie’s credit, he winces a bit at the lighthearted jab. “Listen, don’t, like, tell anyone I said that about Decide, alright? I’d rather not get in some ridiculous press war. I can see it now,” Eddie pauses for dramatic effect, bringing his hands up and spreading them out wide in front of him mimicking a headline. “Corroded Coffin Frontman Denounces Decide”

Steve laughs. “It’d make a good headline,” he admits.

“I don’t do drama,” Eddie says, the words spoken with an impossibly endearing scrunch of his nose.

“...I do watch your shows, remember,” Steve reminds him, eyebrow raised.

“I said I don’t do drama. Now, stirring up a little controversy, on the other hand…” Eddie shoots Steve a wink that makes Steve go a little weak in the knees.

Thankfully, it’s at that moment they arrive at the bar Eddie had in mind. Steve gets a few minutes of reprieve while they get a table and order some drinks and, much to the delight of Steve’s stomach, food.

“So what do you do when you aren’t on the road?” Eddie asks.

“Honestly? Not a lot. I have a dog at home I enjoy spending time with more than most people, if I’m being honest,” Steve admits, then levels Eddie with a half-smile, half-smirk before adding, “Present company excluded.”

Eddie doesn’t blush, but he looks very pleased with the compliment.

“Good to know,” Eddie replies, popping a fry into his mouth.

They make small talk, every few sentences mixing in a little bit of flirting. It’s more subtle on Steve’s part, things like remarks of admiration for Eddie’s career or his style choices, but it’s much bolder from Eddie with comments on Steve’s hair and eyes and… other parts that leave Steve as red as the salsa on the table in front of them.

Things are going well, or so Steve thinks. Except all of a sudden Eddie’s lips turn down into a frown with an eye-roll of pure annoyance. Just when Steve is about to ask if he’d said something wrong Eddie straight-up groans.

“I knew it was too good to be true that we made it this far,” Eddie sighs. “Sorry about this.”

“About what?” Steve asks.

“I’ve been made,” Eddie says the words with a tone that’s mostly annoyance with a hint of self-satisfaction. It’s a combination of feelings that Steve knows all too well.

“Excuse me, are you-”

Steve is only half-paying attention as the person comes over to their table, their auburn hair styled into one of those fashionable-again mullet cuts, and black eyeliner winged in a sharp, precise line. They wear a jean jacket with haphazardly sewn-on patches and carry the sort of vibes Steve imagines Eddie would be very into.

So he’s surprised when Eddie immediately starts to turn the fan away.

“Listen, I’m just trying to eat here, I don’t want to-”

“What? No. Uh, sorry, whoever-you-are,” they say, turning away from Eddie to face Steve. “You are Steve Harrington, right?”

Steve’s eyes widen in surprise. It isn’t the first time he’s been recognized in public, but it isn’t exactly common. And certainly not while he’s sharing a table with an arguably much more famous - and more recognizable if nothing else - celebrity.

Eddie looks over at Steve with the same wide-eyed perplexity, but for a much different reason. So much for keeping his actual role in the band a secret, then. Steve humors the idea of lying, playing it off as a case of mistaken identity, but the thought is gone as quickly as it arrives. He can’t actually bring himself to push away a fan.

“Yeah. Nice to meet you…”

“Emryn,” they say, grinning wide. “Your set was so good. I’ve been dying to see you live and you did not disappoint. Even my wife - who is not your biggest fan - admitted it was a great show.”

Steve laughs. “Maybe she can come talk to this one, then,” Steve suggests, nodding his head back toward Eddie.

“You don’t like Decide?!” They accuse, turning back to Eddie.

“He’s more of a Corroded Coffin fan,” Steve says, biting back laughter as they scrunch their nose in obvious dislike.

“Oh,” they say, shrugging. “Sure.”

Eddie slow-blinks a few times, clearly trying to process the turn of events this whole scenario just took on him while Steve does his best to, well, perform. It isn’t that his entire persona is an act so much as he is not cut out for being famous, and interacting with fans always goes a lot smoother if he hams it up a bit.

“Would you mind--?” The fan holds out their ticket from the festival and a sharpie, both of which Steve dutifully takes, scrawling his practically illegible signature across the front of it.

“Thank you so much,” they say. “I won’t hold up any more of your dinner!”

Just like that, they’re gone.

And just like that, Steve is left alone with a very displeased Eddie Munson.

[unhingedhearties]

New Year, New You (Same As The Old You) Part 1

Wow… TeamE83Liz really went on a posting spree on New Year’s Eve/Day. Pray for the family members that have to put up with her. That can’t be easy.

First a “poem” she wrote. I guess technically it’s a poem. There are words and some of them do rhyme.

Imagine “having knots in your stomach” and making yourself sick for days because a woman you don’t know and have never spoken to… is in a relationship. Imagine having no problems or hardships in your life so you find the time and energy to physically destroy your own health obsessing over the life choices of a woman that, in all likelihood, does not share your values.  How Erin lives her life has zero effect on your life. Those “knots in your stomach” are 100% a YOU problem. “How bad she can be! Alcohol, “sleeps w/someone” & more!”

Remember when Erin did that sponsored Instagram post where she had half an inch of white wine in a glass in front of a fire and some books? Some people, including Liz here, lost their minds at the idea of Erin drinking a-a-a-ALCOHOL! You know, that substance that’s used during mass in Catholicism and is an important part of cultures like France.

Oh, who am I kidding. There’s a 1000% percent chance that Liz is one of those Christians that thinks Catholics are evil. Still, it always surprises me to see Americans lose their mind at the “dangers” of alcohol but don’t think twice about shoving processed foods and corn syrup down their gullet. 

“Finding that stuff out, Made me kick, scream, and shout!”

I can’t help but notice that it doesn’t say “makes me want to”, meaning this middle-aged woman did actually “kick, scream and shout”.

There’s no shame in putting a family member in a group home, by the way. Sometimes it’s the best way to get them help.

More of this weird, convoluted “Me Me Me Me, how dare people say mean things about a TV character, that’s so rude, but I can say horrible things about the actress playing her, I have the right and free speech to say whatever I want, but if people call me out they’re rude and abusive bullies, why won’t anyone think of Me Me Me Me”.

“She’s SO hot, but he’s SO ugly!!”

Liz, post a photo of yourself. I’m serious. You keep dehumanizing this poor man and saying he’s ugly. Show the world what you look like.

"Living with" a girl/boy friend, Is a good way to go to H_ll in the end!"

Oh, you mean like what Lucas’s actor Chris McNally is doing? 

"Sleeping with someone before "I do", Is a 1-way ticket to H_ll too!"

Again, like what the actor who played Lucas, the other half of “Lucabeth” is doing? He even has a baby with his girlfriend. Wow, funny how TeamE83Liz is silent on that. Almost like it’s a double standard when men do it.

(And to make it clear, I do not think Chris or his girlfriend are “evil”. I don’t care about anyone’s marital status or if they have a child out of wedlock. I think people who harass and bully others for their relationship are evil).

"Short hair, dog=her kid, just to name a few."

Hoooooooly crap! I had suspected this thing about Erin’s hair, but TeamE83Liz never said it outright, so I gave her the benefit of the doubt (I won’t be doing that in the future). No screenshots of it because they seemed like innocuous comments at the time, but Liz has made several comments in the past regarding Erin’s hair and how she prefers it longer than the short style Erin usually has when not filming When Calls The Heart. Her hair on that show is clearly fake since it couldn’t possibly grow that fast when she starts filming. I thought it was just a preference TeamE83Liz had, but she apparently is deeply offended that Erin keeps her hair short in her real life. 

And we’ve already seen Liz freak out anytime Erin posts photos of her little dog. Love and respect for the life of animals is apparently something else that gives Liz anxiety attacks.

“Erin is toooooooooooo private, but also I learned so much about her private life it makes me cry boo hoo feel bad for me :( 

If only there was some way I could stop being upset at what I see on the internet. Oh well, better go make 5 more social media accounts after too many people blocked me. Gotta keep up to date on everything.”

.

.

.

"I'll know if being angry at her is actually the right thing to do! Bc, we could be wrong & mad for nothing!"

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Lucabeth fans… find me a Team Nathan fan this awful.  What the hell does Liz want exactly? Erin to go live on Instagram and describe her SEX life? Is that really going to make you feel better? Will you finally be able to sleep at night thinking you’re justified in acting like a monster?