#i think it was just the hot person talking to me in a kind way while clearly talking down on me

[alchemistc]

You never let me in, Buck sends, two of three sheets fully winded, and when he kicks his leg over the coffee table he nearly knocks over three empties.

They do this thing, right? Buck gets upset and before the tears can fall, because he's cried too many fucking times already, he makes himself angry. Picks at something that has come up every time he's done a post-mortem on the last six months.

And then he sends that shit to Tommy. Because - because who the fuck else is he supposed to talk to about it? The guy who'd sucked him off in the hallway of a nightclub two weeks ago? The woman who'd spent an hour quietly helping Buck understand that yeah, he was very much bi, and yeah, some people did not like that shit? Maddie, or Chim, or Hen or Eddie, who still might interact with him on the job? Bobby? Fuck, not Bobby.

Bobby who'd blinked at Buck and offered platitudes and apologized to Buck like it was somehow his fault Tommy was good people but he was the kind of good people who just walked out on something that could have been something.

I should have pushed more. I know I should have. I just thought since I was trying to share everything, you were too.

My mistake.

Three months and Buck isn't over it. He's far enough into the mourning process that he thinks this one is always gonna sting, and not for the reasons Tommy thinks.

That's not fair. I'm sorry.

The texts get delivered. Tommy reads them. Buck's had read receipts on since the first time Tommy went quiet on a call and Buck freaked out a little - but back then they were still working towards something. Back then, sometimes Tommy would pull out his phone and open the thread just to give Buck sign of life.

He was always doing that. Heading shit off at the pass.

Buck had just never realized he'd be able to do it to hurt him, just as well as take care of him.

Every four weeks like clockwork Buck gets a response. He has no fucking idea why it's four weeks, what the third Thursday of the month has to do with Tommy feeling gracious enough to give Buck some clarity. He'd never known enough about Tommy, is the thing he's coming around to. He'd done everything he could to bring Tommy in, make him a part, and Tommy had let him. Tommy had distracted him with quippy words and a clever tongue and with being so fucking willing to be integrated into Buck's life that Buck just - hadn't noticed.

No one will say it, but he Bucked It Up in the worst kind of way.

He's waited until Third Thursday to send these texts. He actually hasn't sent anything at all, until this moment, and he wonders if Tommy noticed. If he cared. Tommy picks and chooses from Buck's random thoughts, parses out details like he's reading from a manual and Buck is off topic two thirds of the time. Buck doesn't actually know why he's been answering, all this time. He wonders if, in the last four weeks of silence, he thought he was finally done with Buck.

He wonders if it had hurt.

Buck sets his phone down to stand, skating across to the kitchen in his socks for the pizza rolls in the oven.

His diet is shit. His body feels like crap. He's one more drunken nights sleep on the couch away from emptying the rack in his fridge down the drain and giving sobriety a try. The last person he'd slept with had hinted that they'd prefer not to use condoms and Buck had almost let them.

Buck has worth. He knows he does. It's just sometimes when he remembers that every person he's ever loved has either walked out on him or let him walk away when he needed them, he struggles to find that worth.

His life has meaning, and all that jazz.

Buck sort of wonders if Tommy hasn't finally blocked his number, as he tosses a too-hot pizza roll in his mouth and huffs on the lava cheese burning his tongue. After the last message Buck had sent, three weeks ago, he wouldn't exactly be surprised.

(This is basically just an unhinged grief journal with an unreliable second narrator. Do you know what it's like to realize you're still in love with someone who never let you know them?)

There's been no response to that. Fair. Buck hadn't even actually said the words. No, he'd jumped right into the sharing a life part, cart before the horse as always when emotions were high.

The pizza rolls get tipped onto a plate and are immediately swimming in the heavy pour of ranch he'd prepared after he set the oven to preheat.

It cools them off a lot quicker than popping a hole in each seam and waiting.

It's been eight years since Buck has really even thought about that little trick.

When he opens his phone there's no response. No receipt. Just stark words waiting to be acknowledged.

I gave you my family, Tommy. You didn't even introduce me to your team at Harbor.

It's startling to realize after the fact. He doubts Tommy had meant it that way, but he'd basically spent six months being love bombed only to have the rug ripped right out from under his feet.

And yet. Months later and he still wants to know. Know why. Know how he could have done it, with tears in his eyes, with full awareness that it was already gonna hurt. Know Tommy - anything he'd part with, really, that wasn't something every random acquaintance also knew.

Cool, he'd been jealous of what Buck and the 118 had. (Buck had tried to give him that. Or at least he thought he had.)

Great, he didn't talk to his dad and Gerrard was a shitty captain. (Buck had spent an hour once explaining the first time he and his dad had spoken about Daniel without screaming at each other. Tommy had listened to the rants about Gerrard and offered physical comfort and a 'sounds like him' and Buck had just been so relieved to have an ally amongst the 'life is just like this sometimes' crowd that he'd never examined that.)

He was a Kinsey six who'd been engaged to the first woman Buck had ever really loved and they'd never dug deeper than that.

And Buck had apparently interpreted some of the shit he'd said that night wrong, but he still doesn't think it's fucking fair that Tommy can't trust him to know his own fucking mind well enough to know he hates sleeping around and he'd found the sort of connection he was looking for. He'd found it. Even with the lack of reciprocation. Even with the quiet behind Tommy's eyes that he'd never let Buck in on. Even with the -

His phone buzzes on the coffee table.

Can we talk?

Buck kinda hates those words in that order now. They'd been the start of something twice, but they'd always been leading to an end, if Tommy had his way.

Once every four weeks, apparently, Buck sends back and takes a vicious bite.

His phone chimes with an incoming call.

Buck stares at the name he hasn't had the stomach to remove the little heart from. Lets it ring through to voicemail and then shoves three more pizza rolls into his mouth and doesn't care if they burn off his taste buds.

His phone rings again.

"What?"

"I'm outside your building. Didn't want to make any assumptions that I'd be welcome without asking first."

Buck can feel his ribs cracking under the lurch of angry laughter. "What the hell?"

"Well the parking around here is miserable again, so I figure that's a sign."

"Are you driving right now?"

"Hands off. I'm on Bluetooth. So. Should I circle the building a fifth time or call it now and go home?"

Buck gets stuck on fifth time.

There's no way he hadn't been driving since at least before Buck sent that first text.

Buck sighs. There's absolutely no reason to be hopeful about that. For all he knows, Tommy has just decided dousing any residual flames is just another thing he has to do in person.

"My Jeep's in the shop. I'll buzz you into the garage."

Tommy's silent for a long, long moment. The quip comes anyway. "I keep telling you that thing is a money pit."

"I'm not really feeling the flirty banter, right now, Tommy, so maybe just let me know when you're at the gate."

He does. He hangs up the phone twenty seconds later with a plain "See you soon."

Buck doesn't have time to change. Fix his hair. Hide the sheet pan with half a dozen pizza rolls still laying on it, because he'd cooked way too many again.

(He could absolutely do one of these things but if Tommy's gonna throw this at him, he's getting every little slovenly habit Bucks's picked up since he walked out that door.)

The knock comes while Buck's shoving the last two rolls on his plate into his mouth.

He's still chewing with his mouth open to blow out the steam when he swings the door open, and Buck feels the first inklings of pleasure ripple through him at the sight of Tommy.

He looks like shit.

"You look like shit."

Tommy's brow ticks up. He stares pointedly at the glob of not-cheese that's going to absolutely ruin this sweatshirt.

"That tends to happen when you spend an hour in an armchair two sizes too small picking at trauma you've been hiding from your therapist for six years."

Buck opens the door wider. Holy crap. Tommy might legitimately be more fucked up than Buck.

Tommy's smile is strained. "Can I come in?"

Buck holds his gaze. His eyes are a little red. He's got a red spot along the side of his neck, like he's been rubbing at it. Buck only recognizes it as a comforting motion because he's replayed him doing it half a million times right before he ended things.

"Depends. Is this the last time you respond to my mean, rude, asshole texts for an hour after therapy rubs you raw?" Third Thursday Therapy, is apparently what does it. Buck is - god. He just wants -

"God, I hope not," Tommy says, and Buck takes a step to the side to let Tommy in.

[monstersflashlight]

Patreon Commission for anon

Request: something with an orc and a female human? Something fantasy-based, maybe human owns a tavern? I'd be fine with whatever you thought worked though!

A/N: Sorry this is kind of late, life is hectic. Enjoy!

Kissing an orc

Orc x fem!reader || accidental exhibitionism, oral sex, groping

You are kneading the bread for the next day when the knock on the door startles you. “Your favorite orc is hereeeee,” your annoying naga helper sing-songs to you. You shush them in your way to the door, signaling them to stop or you’ll kill them. They chuckle and disappear to the front, a broom already on their hands. Good, at least they would stop being a little shit while they do the tavern cleaning.

You open the door and have to swallow a gasp. It doesn’t matter how many times you look at him, it always amazes you how fucking beautiful he is. All giant, towering over you, with his beautiful olive skin and big tusks framing his appetizing mouth. Good goddess you’d give all your gold to be able to kiss him at least once to know how that mouth would feel against yours.

“Hi- hi,” you stutter. You chastise yourself, trying to act composed, but suddenly your skin feels too hot and your breathing is pushing your boobs a bit too forward.

“What was all that about? Am I your favorite orc? Do you know more orcs?” He looks so confused and adorable you want to pinch his cheek, but also kiss him senseless.

You look at him completely dumbfounded. “Are you serious?”

“Yes?” You aren’t sure if it’s a question or an affirmative.

You take a deep breath, thinking about all the possible possibilities of what you are about to do, but you are so fucking tired. You want to know, and if it goes wrong, you can always change hunters and find a new person or monster to bring you fresh meat for your tavern every day, right? Yeah. You can probably find somebody else, but you can’t wait more time to know how do his lips taste.

You stare into his beautiful dark eyes and answer truthfully: “Of course you are my favorite orc, I’ve been trying to ask you out for months.”

“What?” He looks so surprised you want to laugh, but the nervousness in your stomach prevents you to do anything. “But, but… I asked and you didn’t… you didn’t…” He takes a deep breath and starts again. “I asked you to meet me for breakfast and you said you had to work. I asked you if you wanted coffee and said you had to work.” As soon as he says that, you can remember a few other times he asked you for coffee or lunch or some snack and you always refused because you thought he did it just because he was nice, not because he was interested. Were you really that obvious?

You look at him, your face mirroring his surprise. “Oh.”

“You are just too cute for your own good, damn it.” He doesn’t wait for your answer before his hands are cupping your face and he’s kissing you breathless. “We could have been doing this for a long time if you just said so,” he mumbles against your lips, kissing you again.

Kissing an orc is even better than you imagined. His tusks frame your mouth perfectly and his lips are way softer than expected. He is perfect and you can’t even comprehend what he’s doing when he crouches and grabs your ass, pulling you up and walking inside, the deer he caught today left there, forgotten.

He moves around the kitchen like he owns it, and before you know it your ass is over a table and he’s kissing your neck, making goosebumps erupt on your skin. His hands are everywhere, tracing the edge of your corset, caressing your back and groping your ass over the skirt of your dress. His hands fit under the skirt and he goes up and up until his hand is over your center and you are panting, his mouth hot against your pulse point as he touches your vulnerable place.

He caresses your legs over your underpants and asks: “Can I?” His lips move against your neck when he talks and you have to suppress a tremor.

“Yes. Yes. Yes,” you chant, already pulling the skirt of your dress up to your waist as he pulls down your underpants, kissing your leg along the way.

“Have somebody ever…?” He doesn’t have to say it, you know what he means. You aren’t a blushing virgin, but you never had enough trust in anyone to let them… kiss you there.

“I never… Nobody ever… Not there,” you try to explain.

He gets it instantly, kissing your mouth until your brain is far away from your worries and his dexterous fingers find your pearl, flickering it and making you bite down on his lip. He groans and you giggle against his lips, he kneels on the floor in front of you and goes for it.

You moan very loudly as inexplicably pleasure breaks through your body, making you throw your head back and arch your back in an arch that leaves your boobs about to spill over your corset. You are sure it looks sinful from his position, but when you open your eyes the only thing you see is his face still buried between your legs, your thighs pressing against the sides of his head so strongly you are worried you are going to hurt him, but his pleased sounds are good enough to make you groan again.

You cover your mouth to avoid screaming his name as his tongue does wonders around your lucky pearl, his tusks framing your pussy in a way that leaves you breathless and ready for more at the same time. It’s wonderful and marvelous and all the adjectives you can’t even comprehend as he sucks and licks your hot center, dragging all kinds of sounds out of you.

You’ve never felt that kind of pleasure, and as it starts to peak, you don’t know what to do with all of it. You grab his hair and pull, making him grunt as his fingers dig into your hips where he’s holding you still. You are messing up his braid, but you can’t care about it as he keeps licking and fucking you with his tongue. It’s the most intense experience of your life and when the pleasure hits its peak, you have to bite down on your hand to avoid the cry that was about to leave your mouth.

He licks you through it, until your legs are trembling around his head and your pussy is pulsating in time with your heartbeat. He doesn’t stop there, he keeps milking all the pleasure out of you with such frantic need that you can’t do anything but match it. When your second orgasm hits you, the first one was still there, joining in the middle in the biggest wave of pleasure you’ve ever felt.

He kisses your pussy and your highs, not trying to make you untie your legs from around his head. His tender caresses are a contrast with the frantic devouring he just did, but it’s the best kind of contrast. You are still breathing hard and he’s still on the floor in front of you licking you clean when the door to the tavern opens with a screech.

“Dude! That’s where I make the bread!” The annoying naga screams as he opens the door just in time to see him kissing your pussy one last time.

[thehigherseekerastro]

Random Astrology Observations (Alternative Meanings Love Edition) 2 🤨❤️🤔

DISCLAIMER: I am in no way, shape or form a professional astrologer, modern or traditional.

I HAVE been studying astrology for a while now, and analysing charts available to me, as well as my own, and noticed a lot of the info you find online doesn't make sense in real life, because it is too reductive, stereotypical or lacks broader context. So I thought I'd share some of my personal observations to see if it resonates with anyone.

This is NOT the end all, be all. Apply it as it makes sense to you.

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The 1st House 🙋‍♂️

The 1H in synastry is a tricky one, because the first house itself is related to our individual identity. It is the house of self. So, when it comes to having a love planet here, things can get really murky. You'll often hear that it indicates instant attraction, but also only surface-level. While that is not entirely wrong, it would be a disservice to reduce it to just that. Yes, first house ties back to your physical appearance and external impact. But what does that mean for someone else being impacted and impacting that? Does it even apply in synastry? The answer is: YES. And it goes much deeper than you'd think. It will talk about an immediate recognition. It talks of being mesmerized by someone's look and demeanor, but that comes accompanied with an obsessive need to know more about you, to be around you, to soak up as much of you as possible, as if to aggressively learn you. And that's because you will tickle all the boxes the person had been holding inside (and vice-versa).

(e.g.: having someone's planet(s) fall into your 1st house doesn't just mean they will be attracted to you, if it's romantic. It also means the person feels like you two share a vibe, share interests, ideas. It means they feel like you move according to their speed, and therefore, that could lead to a lot of trust and comfort on their part, because you feel like a safe place. Not in the same sense as the 4H, but in a more "this person will have my back, cause we're the same!" kind of way. It makes the person feel like you are enough, because you fit them. So even if everyone else disagrees with them or doesn't understand them, they'll sort of look over at you, and if you validate them, that will be enough for them. They'd rather have your approval – since you are someone who gets them – than to have the approval of a bunch of people who don't understand where they are coming from.)

It truly is a beautiful thing, but even positive planets with positive aspects can lead to unwanted side-effects. The house person could come to resent the planet person because of how much they like them. Depending on who the house person is – if they have a dominant or prideful personality, for example – they may come to resent and even become angry with the planet person at times, because they'll feel so strongly for the planet person that they could start acting out of character for them, and that can make them feel like they're losing control of themselves. And as human beings, what do we do when we feel out of control? Shift blame and start looking for culprits. This DOES tend to wear off, though, exactly because of how intensely the house person feels for the planet person, but it can burn hot for a minute or two, specially if they end up getting into an ugly fight and the 1H person tries to forget the planet person, but they can't bring themselves to hate them. They'll get angry at the fact that no matter how hard they try to hate the person, they still feel enchanted by them.

(this could also create an unwanted feeling of "nobody else is like them", so the 1H could panic a bit at the thought of losing the planet person because 1H synastry creates the immediate feeling of the "perfect person for me", so imagine thinking you found the perfect person for you... it can make you feel like if you lose them you'll never recover, because no one else will be like them or able to replace them as perfectly)

All in all, though, first house Synastry tends to usually show up good results, depending on the planets and aspects involved. Another aspect of this synastry that doesn't get talked about for some reason is the fact that they tend to obsess over and notice the tiny details in each other. So it creates this effect of falling for them over and over and over again, cause they'll keep finding little things about the other person that they find enchanting, and THAT'S what creates the physical attraction. It's not that the planet or house person are conventionally attractive to everyone – they might not even fit the beauty standards –, but to the house person, those little details will sort of build up the planet person's beauty step by step, and by the time they catch on, they'll be enamored with every part of them, so, to the house person, the planet person truly is the most beautiful thing ever.

(1H house synastry also brings a 1st house energy to the attraction. NO - NOT ARIES. First house. But it will sound like arian qualities because Aries does rule the first house, after all. What this means is that a big part of the attraction for the 1H person is feeling like the planet person is independent, self-sufficient, confident, self-assured and capable. Because it's taping into their 1st house of self, the house person can sort of see the best of themselves reflected on the planet person, which means they feel like all the things they are insecure to show the world, the planet person has and is not afraid to show them. So they feel like planet person not only embodies their attraction ideal, but also the ideal personality they wish they had themselves. Which they do, but they don't realize it until planet person comes along and brings it out of them.)

First house Synastry is a complex kind of Synastry that is much more psychological than it's given credit for. People often focus on superficial physical attraction and gloss over the fact that it's like somebody is literally stepping into your mind and making your inner fantasies come out. It can feel very vulnerable and intense.

The 7th House 💍

Oh, isn't this one a gem?! Perhaps one of the most sought after in synastry. But the idea here is to provide an alternative perspective, so here goes: if it's badly aspected, or there's other challenging factors involved (the person falling into your 7H is problematic themselves), you're gonna run into the issues people often attribute to 1st house synastry, such as superficiality and a "false love" because 7H Synastry, regardless if it's good or bad, creates somebody who's "perfect on paper". They say the right things, they do the right things, they seem to fit into your whole ideals. But that does not guarantee that that's who they truly are. That's just who you think they are. Remember – the 7H is the house of "other". So it's not about you. It's about the other. But it's rather how you act around said other, and also how you perceive them.

(It's tough to say this, but you gotta be real to help some people out there who might have had 7H Synastry and didn't understand why the relationship failed, since everyone online claims it's a guaranteed soulmate. It's because Synastry goes both ways. And all houses have good and bad. There is no such thing as the perfect Synastry. But in the case of the 7H, I'd say it's the real life case of "if it's good, then it will be amazing. Truly a soulmate. But if it's bad... it will be awful. Just not immediately.)

Going off of the previous comment, another grim way this Synastry can turn out is in its binding effect. And I don't mean anything spiritual or abstract here. I mean literally binding. Imagine a relationship going sideways like that AND you are also now married or share a business together. MESS! This is the house of contracts and long-term. Remember Saturn exalts in Libra, because Libra likes things that last, and Saturn is the planet of long-term, so the house of Libra will sprinkle that lasting effect over whatever it touches. And if you're in a 7H relationship, that relationship will last with you, whether good or bad. It will take A WHILE to break off from it, either mentally, emotionally, psychologically, legally or financially.

(e.g. somebody has their moon in your 7H, but it's a moon at fall, in Scorpio, and it's afflicted in their natal chart. Now, at the beginning they will seem like a gift from God directly to you, so much so that you decide to make it official... And then, one or two years in, living together, each day it gets more toxic and draining and the dark sides just oozes out of your relationship. But now you are legally married, and divorcing will take time, bureaucracy, money and emotional energy, not to mention you'll have to uproot your entire life, explain it to your social circles and families... And what seemed like your dream come true was in fact a bitter lesson to learn).

To veer away from the dark twists of the last ones, let's dissect the correlations people make with the 7th house, like "oh, your spouse will be interested in art, and beauty, and music, and sophisticated things!" Why? Are you marrying a Libra? A Libra rising? Somebody with a Libra Venus? No? Then that has nothing to do with 7H Synastry. Houses are not signs, signs are not houses. Libra is one thing, the 7H is another. Venus rules Libra, which resides in the 7H, but Venus doesn't rule the 7H. It merely influences the 7H. It would be a better guess to say you might have met your person while they (or you) were already in a relationship than it is to say you met because of beauty-related things, or art, or music, since the 7H doesn't talk of any of those things, but it DOES talk of committed relationships.

(e.g. you might have met the person right after they (or you) got divorced. They might be connected to an ex of yours. Or another possibility that isn't talked about is how the person you eventually end up with is someone you have liked for a long time, but never got the chance to be with until now. Since this is the house of long-term relationships, having placements here could indicate that the person you ultimately stay with long-term is someone you already knew prior to getting together, but you needed to experience other relationships before you united with them.)

Another final aspect of placements in this house is the fact that it doesn't just deal with your love relationships, but also the way you consciously present yourself with others. How you behave socially. But also the mirror effect of this house, speaking directly about love. This is, after all, the house directly opposing the 1st house of self. In that regard, this is similar to 1H synastry, with the exception that in this one, instead of you coming out of your shell subconsciously, you make a conscious effort to become your best for your person here. You want to live up to all of your potential.

The 2nd House 💆‍♂️

This one is a bit tricky for me, because I'm not materialistic AT ALL. I have a Taurus Lilith in the 2nd house, so, I express it on the other end of the spectrum. When you have that placement, you either put too much value on money and material things, or you are completely unattached from it, and that's me. So the whole "money this, money that!" vibe is not my scene. I don't see a price in life, I see value. With that said, let's get this going.

Yes, this is the house of money and material things. Yes, it will deal with your personal finances. But no, unless other parts of your chart/Synastry agree with it, somebody's placements falling here should not have a lasting effect. It might merely indicate you overspending on dates and gifts. The 2H is the house of YOUR money, which means that the whole "oh, they're gonna shower you in gifts!", "And this is a sugar baby aspect!", "Your person will want to spend all their money on you and buy you expensive things!" is probably not gonna happen, sorry. If it does, it will be you spending your money.

(And if you do spend your money, the whole "gifts" thing is also not that common, because normal people don't just go around buying gifts for others every other day of the week, unless they have some sort of imbalance. Such a consumerist mindset! Not everything is about paying for things or buying things. That's a VERY American culture of dating, specially for women. This nasty idea that a man has to buy you or he's not good. Which is what encourages habits like thinking the man always has to be covering your finances (how old are you, 5? Get a job and pay for your own damn self! You are an adult woman), paying for your food, buying you a house, giving you gifts all the time and affording expensive dates. You are not a product. If your biggest incentive to be with a man is because of how much he pays for you, then that's the world's oldest profession, not a relationship of love. So this should play out more like them helping you manage your own finances. Don't go around thinking a 2H love placement is gonna turn you into Cinderella.)

If you do happen to be a stay-at-home person in your relationship, which is valid, as long as it's not all about money, 2H love placements and synastry will talk more about other material aspects of things. It will talk of stability, sustainability, longevity and security.

(e.g.: it could mean that you allocate your resources towards creating a safe, stable environment for your life together to flourish, such as buying things for your home together, revising your finances to make life goals and plans together more viable, setting budgets to achieve milestones together... as well as the literal physical aspects of valuables, so using your resources towards nourishment (food, shelter, clothing and health). Things that will ensure your relationship lasts and endures through hardships and tribulations. In the 2H of values, Synastry could indicate the relationship itself becoming your prized possession that you take care of. All the Earth houses are about caring for things, just in different ways.)

Another poorly explored aspect of the 2H is values in the moral, spiritual and emotional sense. It's WORTH. Both the causes you find worthy as well as your self-worth. A 2H love placement or Synastry can and will directly affect that. Even if you do happen to be dealing with financial/material things too, that can affect your self-worth directly.

(e.g.: say you are married to someone who is constantly in debt, or say your spouse is the breadwinner of the household and you depend on them financially. That can really take a toll on your self-worth. It can bring feelings of poor self-esteem, can you make you feel undervalued, inadequate, make you feel like a burden, or make you feel incapable of caring for yourself. It can strike your self-confidence and make you VALUE yourself less. Or the opposite. Your spouse may open you up to new possibilities of making money, which in turn gets you into a new passion project that you succeed in and that can make you feel like a worthy person, make you believe in yourself, make you feel important and valuable.)

I would argue that most often, it's the 8H Synastry that will really have your partner's materials affecting you, because the 2H is the house of your PERSONAL gains, while the 8H is the house of OTHERS' gains and possessions. Most often, the biggest impact I'd say 2H love placements have will be dealing with self-worth, self-confidence, shared values and morals, feelings of belonging and acceptance.

General Things ✨

What I see most often is that positive and negative outcomes tend to happen simultaneously. It's not all doom and gloom, but it's also not all sunshine and rainbows all the time. Sometimes it's great, sometimes it's not so great, and those ups and downs come and go. That's just life. Both are there to be worked with, worked for, or worked through. At the end of the day, astrology will not mandate your life events, and you have to always be learning from your life, and working on yourself and the things that matter to you. Astrology is just a guiding light to identify possible themes to be mindful of.

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That's it! Thank you if you've read it this far! I might have come off a bit harsh (I hope I haven't), but I promise I'm nice lol.

My whole goal is to try to discuss astrology in as realistically as possible, but while making it clear that any possible outcome is plausible. If most times all you hear are fantastic stereotypical descriptions of placements, such as 7H, the not so great ways in which it can play out will be explored here to help people navigate them. If all you hear are bad things about a house, then I'll try to show the positive ways in which it can come out.

The whole point is to try to bring a wide range of notions to these descriptions, together with the information that is already out there and available by many other creators.

At the end of the day, remember this is all POSSIBILITIES. Your personal life has to be analysed to know what's gonna ensue. And don't be discouraged, because the truth is that positive and negative effects tend to happen together for your best.

Hope you have a good day when you find this!

MASTERLIST

[itsthestutterforme]

History Repeating 1/2 (Rafe x black!reader)

Summary: You get jealous that Rafe is spending more time with his bros than with you, so you decide to take matters into your own hands.

Notes: GIF is not mine, all mistakes are my own, some angst, some fluff

**

Your face grew hot as you watch the clock turn 7 p.m. A full two hours after what Rafe had promised.

Letting out a long huff, you stood from your chair and took your wristlet in your hand as you made your way to the front to pay for your appetizer and drink.

“No need, madam.” The waitress stated, holding her hand out when you tried to open your wallet.

“I don’t understand,” your eyebrows knitted together.

Before the waitress could further explain, Rafe walks through the door, guilt weighing on his shoulders. You knew exactly what had happened.

“He paid for your meal over the phone,”

“Yeah, I figured.. Thanks.” You gave her a polite smile before walking directly past Rafe and out of the door.

He tried to talk to you as you walked out but you merely held up a hand and continued out of the door anyway.

“Y/N. Come on,” Rafe starts, watching as you opened your wristlet and took out your car keys. “Y/N,” he repeats and you ignored him once again.

When you tried to open the car door, the keys slipped out of your hand and fell to the floor.

You let out an exasperated sigh and crouched down to get the keys but Rafe beat you to it. Taking the keys into his large hand, he offered the keys to you and you snatched them from him.

“Baby, don’t be like this.” You practically stabbed the key hole and unlocked the car door. “Baby-“

“Once- just for once, I wanted you to show up for me and just be here.”

“I know, okay? I fucked up. I lost track of time-“

“I don’t care, Rafe. I genuinely don’t care anymore.” Tears of anger blurred your vision as you sat in the drivers seat.

Rafe catches the door before you had a chance to close it. “You don’t mean that,” he starts, blocking the door from closing with his toned abdomen.

“I do mean it,” you tried your best to seem as angry as you could, but your body betrayed you.

“If you did, you wouldn’t be crying.” He adds, holding the right side of your face with his hand. He wiped away the waterfall of tears that fell when you closed your eyes.

“Let me make it up to you,” “Please,” he begs when you shook your head no.

“I think I need some space for a little while, Rafe.” He slowly dropped his hand from your face, stuffing his hands in his pockets.

“Is that something you really want?” You took a long pause to compose yourself.

“Yes,”

“For how long?” His heart sank to the pit of his stomach when you shrugged. “Until I’m ready to have this conversation again,” you finally spoke after a long silence.

“I’ll give you a week.” He loosens his grip on the door as he hesitates for a moment.

He dips his head into the car and leans in an inch from your face. His ogate eyes found yours for a few seconds before he examined the rest of your features.

It was like he was trying to memorize as much as he could. “I love you,” he glances down at your lips and steals a kiss from you before you could react.

Once he sees you don’t pull away from him, he holds the sides of your face and kissed you again, this time more passionately. His tongue caressing yours.

A groan turned into a whimper when he bit down harshly on your bottom lip. Your hands took in the collar of his tshirt and balled up the fabric.

When he finally pulled away, he traced your bottom lip with his thumb.

You hated that how quickly you were falling under his spell. A part of you wanted to push him away and shut the door in his face and drive away. Unfortunately, you were not that kind of person.

“I love you too, Rafe. But I mean it- I need a week of space. If you call, I won’t answer.”

“Okay,” he says, hesitantly pulling away from you and closing the door.

You spared him a single look before shifting the car into drive, watching Rafe’s shrink look smaller and smaller in the rear view mirror.

**

It’s been five days consecutively that you haven’t been answering Rafe’s texts or calls. You really did mean it when you said you wouldn’t answer his calls.

All his calls went straight to voicemail. His messages were left on delivered.

He had lost digital access to you. You even stopped sharing your location with him.

Most of the day, your phone is on Do Not Disturb unless it’s 9 am. That’s when your Mom typically wakes up and she’ll most likely need you for something.

Did she ghost me? Rafe would ask himself.

Did I go too far this time?

Realistically, he could drive by your house and wait there until you get back home. But that wouldn’t change anything.

If you weren’t anything else, you were true to your word. When you say something, you mean it.

It’s one of the many reasons why Rafe fell in love with you. You were real.

“Hello? Earth to Rafe Cameron.” Topper says, waving his hand in front Rafe’s face.

“What, dude.” He spits at him, annoyed that he was pulled out of his thoughts of you.

“The red head by the bar has been staring at you since we got here. You going to get her number or should I get it for you?” Topper asks, making Rafe roll his eyes.

“I don’t know how many times I need to say this. Me and Y/N aren’t broken up yet.”

“If a chick doesn’t speak to you for five days. It’s a wrap, dude. Come on, you have the be realistic.”

“She’s not just some chick, douche.” Rafe stands from his chair at the sports bar.

“I’m out of here,” he takes a twenty out of his wallet and sets it on the table before leaving the group.

“Their break up is going to hit him hard,” Kelce tells Topper as Rafe walks away.

“Yeah, man. All we can do is wait.”

When Rafe finally leaves the bar, he piles on his dirt bike and slid his helmet on. A thought rattles around in his head.

Sure the tequila shots were partially to blame, but what’s wrong with a little liquid courage?

Before he knew it, he was pulling up into your driveway to find only your car there. Your mom must have left for her vacation already. Which made what he was about to do that much easier.

Taking his helmet off, he shuts off his bike and walks up your driveway. Just as he was about to knock, the door flies open and you rushed out with your portfolio pad in hand and your purse and car keys in the other.

You gasped when you nearly run into Rafe’s chest. Neither of you say anything initially, you just stared at one another.

Rafe thought you looked different. You looked.. stoic, which was something he’s never seen before.

And to you, he looked defeated. Something you’ve never seen before. Both are reactions to the same emotion: hurt. So it looks like you’re learning a new side of each other.

“I’m running late, Rafe. I have to go.” You finally spoke, your voice was leveled and strong.

Rafe didn’t say anything. He just looked at you.

You stepped out of the door way and turned to lock the door. Side stepping around him, you advance down the stairs.

His window of opportunity was closing. He had to do something.

Come on, Rafe. Open up your fucking mouth.

“I don’t want to be like my dad,” he blurts out, causing you to stop in your tracks. Rafe’s chest heaves with frantic breaths.

“Look, I-I want to make this work. My idiot friends want me to find someone else because they think this,” he motions between the two of you. “Is replaceable. And I don’t know much. But one thing I do know is that this is something you only find once.”

He walks down the stairs and around you to stand in front of you.

“Why don’t you want to be like your dad?” You pressed, accepting the fact that you’re going to be late for your event as the event planner.

“Because my dad met the love of his life when he was in college. But he didn’t fight for her. He let her slip through his fingers and years later, she married someone else and built her own family. And the thought of ‘what would have happened if we’ve stayed together’ is always running through his head. He never let it go.” He starts.

“He still says her name every time he gets drunk. She’ll always be the one who got away. I don’t want that to be me- I don’t want that to be us.” He adds, taking another step toward you and you released a shaky breath.

“This is the most you’ve talk about anything,”

His gaze softened at your words, his own eyes searching yours as he contemplated his response.

“I’ve had a lot of time to think about it. Five days worth.”

He caressed the apple of your cheek as he held your face in his hands. “I miss you, Y/N. Alright? I miss you so fucking much. I don’t want to start over with anyone else. I want to fix things with you.”

“What was her name? The one your father let get away?” “Y/M/N. Y/M/N Y/L/N.” “What?” You said, a little baffled by the new information.

“My mom was..” you trailed off and Rafe nods. “Did you know about this before we started dating?”

“No, I didn’t. I found out like five months in.”

“It’s like history is repeating itself.” You said. “It’s exactly what’s happening. Except this time, I won’t let you slip away. Because even after my dad met my mom and Rose, nothing compared to your mom.”

“I love you,” you whispered, bringing your hands up to hold his wrists. “I love you too,” he rests his forehead against yours and tears swelled in your eyes.

You silently cursed yourself because you didn’t want to ruin the make up you worked so hard on.

It’s the reason why you were late for the event in the first place- shit.

“What’s wrong?” Rafe questions, watching the gears turning behind your eyes. “I’m so late to my event right now. Um..” you trailed off when you looked into his eyes, slowly getting lost in them.

Snap out of it, Y/N. Damn.

“I have to go to this or else my client will have my ass. But, you’re more than welcome to stay until I come back.” You added.

“I’ll come with. Do you need the help?” “You want to help me coordinate an event?”

“Any time spent with you is time well spent. Where’s it at? I’ll drive you.” He said, taking your car keys in his hands.

[zigrethsnotebook]

[SHOULDER KISS]

Ford x Reader

words: 2,846

tags: sfw, toothrotting fluff, non-sexual nudity

a/n: this is so devastatingly self-indulgent,, pls don't judge me. But also, this is for all of you who said there aren't enough Ford fics out there <3

Winter. Snow was falling, but it wasn’t soft. The winds were strong and managed to blow snow in your face no matter which way you turned or how much you covered it up. This was supposed to be a short and simple hike through the woods with Ford. When you had left the house this morning it had been just that, with snow falling softly and all. But now the weather had turned like it held a grudge against you two personally.

The twins had decided to have a little break on their sea adventure for the holidays and while Stan decided to visit the kids and Shermie, Ford had decided to come home to you. Even Soos and his Abuelita had left to spend this time of the year with Melody and her family, meaning you and Ford had the Shack all to yourselves. It also meant that there was nobody home to make sure the Shack stayed warm while you two were out.

Finally, you had made it back to the Shack, and when Ford opened the door you quickly got inside, spreading snow across the floor. You shivered as you took off your snow-laden coat and shoes, the cold having seeped inside your very bones.

Ford wasn’t much better off - his nose and cheeks burned a bright red and his eyebrows and eyelashes had little white crystals hanging off of them. He was a human furnace of a man, but even he was shivering now, rubbing his hands along his arms to generate a little warmth.

“We need to warm up as quickly as possible, I don’t want to risk either of us getting hypothermia. You should go and take a hot bath while I’ll put more wood in the furnace so the house can warm back up. I’ll take a bath after you’re done.”

You shook your head. “Sorry, won’t work. While you were gone we had some problems with the hot water. Now there’s only enough hot water for one hot bath or shower at a time.”

“Oh.” Ford’s eyes darted around the room for a moment, trying to find a solution. “Then I guess I’ll just get some extra blankets and try to warm up like that.” Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “Or you could just take the bath with me. That way we won’t risk either of us getting sick?”

You said it like it was the most natural thing in the world, Ford on the other hand could feel the heat rising to his face even more now, his turtleneck suddenly feeling a little tight around his neck. It wasn’t a secret that Ford was… uncomfortable when it came to nudity.

During your few months of relationship with the man the furthest you had gotten was one very fun make-out session where, in the heat of the moment, Ford had pulled your shirt over your head and immediately turned bright red at the sight of you. You had pulled him back in with a smile but when you tried to pull his turtleneck off of him as well he had pulled away, ending the moment abruptly.

You had tried to talk to him about it afterwards and he had confessed that he felt incredibly self-conscious about his own body after all the things Bill and his time hopping dimensions had done to it. After lots of kind words and soft kisses he had hugged you and shown you the scars around his wrists from the chains Bill had kept him in.

But none of that mattered now and you hoped he knew you wouldn’t think worse of him for any of it. You just wanted to make sure he wouldn’t get sick. “No. You go.” You could tell he was trying to sound determined, but his own shivering wouldn’t quite let him.

You shook your head. “You take a bath, I’ll get some blankets.” Ford looked at you with pleading eyes. “I won’t take a bath before you. Either we take one together-” You had to pause as a more intense shiver overcame you. You continued with chattering teeth. “-or I’ll take one after you.”

“But you just said-” The look on your face was unwavering, he couldn’t win this one. With a sigh he agreed. “Okay. You get the bath ready. I’ll take care of the furnace, then I’ll meet you there. Does that sound good?” You nodded and quickly made your way to the bathroom.

Ford felt silly for being afraid of your reaction to his body. He was a normal guy! Apart from the six fingers of course, but you had shown him again and again that you loved that part of him. Why would this be any different? He shook his head, trying to rid himself of all those negative thoughts as he placed another log in the fire.

With every step he now took towards the bathroom he could feel his heart hammering stronger and louder inside his chest. He was about to reach for the doorknob when he stilled in his movement. There was something he hadn’t even considered. He would also get to see you naked.

Ford’s cheeks, after having cooled down a little, now turned tomato red again. No. No, he couldn’t do this. He was just about to turn around when the door in front of him opened. “Ford? Why are you just standing there? Come in.” You gently took his hand that was still hanging outstretched in the air and guided him inside the room.

The bathroom had already begun to heat up a little through the warm water evaporating and filling the air. You quickly closed the door behind him, shivering again as you felt the fresh air entering the room. Ford just stood there, unable to move, just watching you as you moved around the room, getting shampoos and towels ready and finally turning off the water.

You turned to Ford. The crystals on his eyebrows and lashes had melted away, but his face was still flushed and he looked very tense. You moved over to him, gently put your hands on his arms and looked into his eyes. “I’m sorry, Ford. I won’t force you to do anything you don’t want to. I want you to know that I’m as worried about your health as you are about mine, but if you leave now I won’t judge you for that or think any worse of you.”

One of your hands found his cheek and he instinctively leaned into your touch, closing his eyes. He took a deep breath and brought his own hand up to yours, moved it to his mouth and pressed a soft kiss to your wrist. “I’ll stay.” You smiled and when he let go of your hand you moved back towards the bathtub, taking your sweatshirt off in one swift movement.

Ford watched your movements with awe. You turned to face him again and he struggled to focus on your eyes. It made you smile - you thought it was adorable how much he wanted to stay a true gentleman, even though you were more than okay with him checking you out properly.

“Suggestion: I get in first. Then, if you’re not comfortable with me seeing you naked I’ll close my eyes while you get in as well. How does that sound to you?” Ford couldn’t help but smile at how considerate you were and also admire you for your self-confidence. “Sounds perfect.”

You nodded and quickly started undressing further, looking forward to the warm water thawing your tense muscles. Ford quickly averted his eyes which earned him a quiet chuckle from you, but you didn’t say anything. When you were done, you carefully stepped inside the tub and sighed as the warm water engulfed your shivering body.

The way it was now the water reached to just above your nipples. But, knowing Ford, you had made sure to create enough foam, so you couldn’t see through the water, leaving just your shoulders and upwards visible. When Ford realized that you had settled into the tub he turned to face you again and you smiled an encouraging smile at him before closing your eyes.

Ford hesitated a moment but eventually found the courage to take off his turtleneck. His heart beat rapidly in his chest but when he pulled it over his head and realized your eyes were still closed he relaxed a little. He felt bad for not trusting you enough to see him shirtless while you trusted him enough to sit naked in front of him with your eyes closed. He took another deep breath to steady himself and took off the rest of his clothes.

After you heard what you assumed to be Ford’s pants dropping to the floor you lifted your arms out of the water and placed them on either side of the tub, inviting him in. You heard two footsteps and then felt the water moving slightly. It took all your concentration to keep your eyes closed, not because you wanted to gawk at him, but rather because you wanted to help him sit down safely without hurting either of you.

You managed though, and soon enough Ford sat between your legs in the bathtub. A deep sigh left Ford’s lips as well, as he felt the warm water around his cold skin. He was careful not to lean too far back, trying desperately to touch you as little as possible. When he was as comfortable as he could get, he spoke up again in a tiny voice. “You can open your eyes now.”

The sight in front of you made your heart flutter. It felt so domestic somehow. His gray hair and strong shoulders in front of you - all you wanted to do was reach out, pull him close and never let go. But you restrained yourself, you had to go at his pace. For a moment you just admired him, studied all the scars and tattoos you hadn’t seen before and committed them to memory.

“Please say something.” Ford’s voice didn’t quite manage to break you out of your trance. “I love you.” As soon as the words left your mouth you froze. You didn’t mean to say that - you had never said this to each other before. “Sorry, I don’t know wh-” “I love you, too.”

You were shocked, to say the least, your heart felt like it was about to jump out of your ribcage. With Ford facing forward you couldn’t look at him, but you could tell from the red of his ears that he was blushing. You bit your bottom lip as you tried to anticipate whether or not your next words would ruin the moment. “Can I touch you?”

His breathing picked up its pace and he nodded. Slowly, you lifted one of your hands from the side of the bathtub and moved it to his shoulder. Ford’s breath hitched when your skin touched his. You let your thumb draw slow, soothing circles on his skin and after a few seconds you heard Ford let out a long breath, relaxing a little.

After a few moments like that you slowly let your hand wander up his shoulder until your fingers came into contact with one of his scars and you could feel Ford tense under your touch. With a feather-like softness you let your fingers trace the scar. “Bill.” Was the only word he managed to get out. “You don’t have to explain yourself.” You assured him and he relaxed under your touch again.

A few more moments passed with your one hand tracing gentle patterns on his shoulder, until Ford raised his other arm out of the water and put it on top of your other arm. He took your hand and slowly moved it forward, pulling you along with it. You didn’t protest as you felt him wrap your arm around himself, holding it against his chest and gently kissing your knuckles.

This gave you the perfect opportunity to gently pull him towards you, encouraging him to lean into your chest, while never stopping the soothing strokes of his shoulder with your other hand. A smile formed on your face when you both had settled into a comfortable position, his back to your chest and your head looking over his shoulder.

You stayed like that for a couple of minutes, neither of you saying a word, just enjoying the moment.

You looked downward just enough to look at his shoulder and then leaned down, pressing a loving kiss to your boyfriend’s skin. Ford gasped, not expecting the sensation, but quickly relaxing into it. You could stay like this forever.

After some more time enjoying this moment, you noticed the water losing some of its warmth. Ford noticed this as well. “We should probably start getting ready soon.” He said but didn’t move an inch. You chuckled lightly. “Yeah…”

You took a deep breath, taking in as much of this moment as you could. “Do you want me to wash your hair?” Even with all that’s happened to lead you up to this point, Ford blushed again. It was adorable. He swallowed the lump in his throat. “I-If you want to?”

With a smile on your lips you gently guided him into a more horizontal position, cupped some water in your hand and let it flow over his head. Once his hair was sufficiently wet you grabbed a bottle of shampoo and put some on your hands before messaging it into his hair. Ford's eyes fluttered shut and he practically melted into your touch. You loved to see him so relaxed and it filled you with pride to know that you were the cause for this.

After you had rinsed his hair with water he was about to sit up straight again but you stopped him. “Your hair needs conditioner.” He didn’t protest and let you go through the same motions again. “I could get used to this…” Ford breathed the words out and you almost didn’t catch them. But when they registered in your mind your heart swelled with affection for the man.

“All done.” Your voice made him open his eyes and sit back up. He was no longer leaning against your chest and you noticed that the foam was starting to dissolve. You could see a little more of his back now, but you tried not to stare.

“I-ehm…” Ford started but didn’t know how to voice his question. You understood him though. “How about I close my eyes for you to get out and then I face the wall to wash my own hair while you get dressed?” Ford chuckled lightly, the tension of having to ask an uncomfortable question immediately lifted by your genuine respect for his boundaries.

“They’re closed,” you told him and he stood up, got out and wrapped himself in a towel. As soon as you heard both of his feet hit the ground you turned in the tub and faced the wall, presenting Ford your back. You wet your own hair and when you were reaching backwards for the shampoo bottle you couldn’t reach it. Seems like you didn’t think this one through fully.

“Here.” You felt the bottle gently hit your hand and took it from him. While you were busy washing your hair, Ford realized that neither of you had brought any fresh clothes into the bathroom. He quickly left to get some for himself and then some for you as well. When he came back you were just putting conditioner into your hair.

“I brought you some clothes as well.” You halted. “I knew I forgot something. Thank you.” Ford chuckled and quickly got dressed into some fresh pants and a different red turtleneck. When he was done you were just about to stand up. Ford picked up the towel and held it in front of himself. You stood up, your back still facing him, and he wrapped his arms around you and the towel along with it.

Ford pressed a chaste kiss to the nape of your neck before letting go of you. “I’ll make us both a hot chocolate.” You just hummed in response.

When you stepped out of the bathroom the house felt warm again and the smell of hot chocolate filled the air. You let the smell guide you to the kitchen where you found Ford. Your arms snaked around his waist, hugging him from behind and you nuzzled your face into his turtleneck.

When he was done preparing the drinks he turned around in your arms, cupping your face in his hands. “What have I done to deserve you?” He sighed dreamily and you smiled a crooked grin at him. “You made us hot chocolate!” You both chuckled and took the drinks to the living room where you both settled into the old recliner.

Once the drinks were emptied and you were just about to drift off into sleep in his arms, you heard Ford whisper in your ear.

“Thank you.”

[leupagus]

On Taash

I think one reason people keep pretending that Taash's character is badly-written is because they remind them of what they were like as a young adult: blunt, convinced that they were always right (and everyone else was stupid), and flailing around for an identity that didn't hurt. That often makes for an unpleasant person to be around, and someone who at times is even unlikable. But we never see the beam in our own eye while discussing the splinter in someone else's, so I think there's a certain degree of "well I certainly wouldn't yell at my mom like that!" (You would, honey. You would.)

IMO, Taash is one of the best-written companions in Veilguard precisely because they are thoughtless and callous and blow up at people for no reason at times. They're trying to figure their shit out! They got voluntold to work with the Veilguard without any warning, under a leader who's a complete stranger and alongside people she's never met and often has fundamental conflicts with. They've got an extraordinarily complicated relationship with their mom, who gave up her entire life and culture and place in the world out of love for them, but who withholds approval in a way that so many of us can relate to. They're confronting the wrongness of their old gender expression (woman), then embracing a new one (nonbinary) almost as soon as they learn about it—which is how a LOT of identity works, remember? Remember learning the term "trans" or "bisexual" or "genderfluid" and thinking oh shit that's me? It's relatable, but it's still uncomfortable as hell. Considering all that Taash has on their plate, including hiding a fundamental aspect of who they are (their dragonbreath), it's a wonder they're as stable as they are.

As for the conversations about their identity that people are claiming are "cringe" or "unrealistic"—my babies, I have listened to more people talk through their gender and sexuality journeys than you've had hot dinners, and let me tell you they often sound a LOT like Taash. That's not a bad thing! But it's like learning a new language—or heck, joining a new fandom—where you use the unfamiliar terms in clumsy ways and want to talk about it all the time, even to people who aren't fluent. (Taash talks about other shit too; yes, a lot of their quests touch on their gender, but a lot of them don't and frankly expecting someone who's only just figured themselves out to not talk about it is...kind of cruel. Of course Taash isn't a real person, but man I hope you people complaining about how often you have to "deal with" Taash's gender conversations don't have any friends who have trusted you with those conversations.)

Taash is extraordinary in so many ways—the way they talk to Spite directly like a kid who needs firm boundaries; the possible romance they have with [spoiler]; the nuanced and emotional way they talk about dragons; the way they care for birds and refugees and anyone else in their orbit, if they're allowed to. They are one of my favorite companions (although right now it's kind of a seven-way race between all of them), and I have snort-laughed at more of their lines than any other companion by a country mile.

It's just a shame that so many people saw a reflection of the more grating parts of their own personality and so decided that Taash is badly-written, instead of considering the possibility that they are simply badly-heard.

[givekennyabreak]

Irreplaceable. (Kenny Liu x gn!reader)

Summary: A cop arrived along with Tabitha, and she thinks she owns the place; you think it's time to teach her how to be humble.

Rating: T

Warnings: whole lotta cursing, canon-compliant violence, spoilers for S3E8 of From, survivor's guilt, mourning, Acosta slander, reader is jealous but for a good reason, mentions of blood, mentions of gun. Acosta is her own warning.

Word count: 2.15k

Tabitha was back.

She went through the tree, got into a lighthouse, went outside and wound up back in town. She was hurt - scared, you could see the way she looked around with wide eyes at every waking moment.

You talked to her once; it didn't go far, though, as Jim arrived a couple minutes after you finally got the poor woman alone, telling you whatever went on in their life wasn't any of your business.

You flipped him off.

"If you ever need to talk," you told Tabitha, eyes as gentle as possible. "I'm at the station."

Not only did Tabitha come back, she brought in Victor's father with her (by accident, she said. Of course.). Henry, he said his name was, was a gentle man through and through. You could see how much he cared about Victor - the way he tried his best to be patient and reconnect with his son.

He never berated the man, listened to whatever he said with the utmost patience and always tried to remain calm, although you're all only human - he panics a few times, too.

He went to the goddamn caves with Victor.

If that isn’t love, you don’t know what is.

Victor, your first friend in this hellspace; one of the four people you trusted with your life - the other three, obviously, were Boyd, Donna, and Kenny.

The man was a gentle, misunderstood soul. If anyone asked you who was the person who wanted to leave this place the most, out of everyone, Victor would be your answer. He was used to it, yes - but he didn't like the place.

He was tired.

You were tired.

That's why you tried to help him as much as possible.

(Victor told you how he tried to remember what happened with Christopher and the townspeople at the beginning, but it didn't work - he was going to see Sara.

"Does it have to be her? Do we have to do this?"

"Yes."

"Dude, c’mon. She-"

"I know. But it’s gonna get scary, and she’s the scariest person in town."

You blinked up at him. He blinked back.

You sighed.

"Fine. But I'm taking a knife with me.")

Yet, there was a third party who got in town with the two good parts; and, as all is never well in this place, the woman was an absolute menace.

Acosta was her name - surname? Who knows -, a policewoman who refused to change out of her uniform, going around asking people invasive shit and managing to piss you off more times than you can count by berating Boyd, of all people.

Her last stunt was to come up to the station as you were talking to the sheriff about the kinds of food you managed to find with the last group of people who went foraging, demanding him to give her gun back.

She did so without even acknowledging your presence, trading insults back and forth while you watched the scene, flabbergasted; Boyd, tired of her shit, actually gave it back to her without the ammunition (this is why you trusted him so much), and she walked out of the station, without as much as a glance towards you.

"Am I invisible?"

Boyd sighed. "To her? Most people are."

And then - there went your last straw.

Just as you arrived at the diner, ready to give your boyfriend a tight, much needed hug, you caught sight of a blonde ponytail and blue uniform.

"Oh, hell no."

You swung open the inner door, and walked up to the stools just as Kenny poured hot water into a mug.

"Yeah, they… they do that sometimes." He said, as the jukebox played by itself (again.).

Acosta looked at him - really looked at him. “Is that something else you get comfortable with?” A pause. “Look, thanks for the tea.”

He looked down at the mug. “Uh, you didn't even...”

She stood up, body almost colliding with yours. “Excuse me.”

And then, Kenny looked up, eyes locking with yours. He brightened up immediately - his smile widened, and he put the pot back in its place, just to beckon you over with his free hands.

"Good morning, my love." You said, ducking under the opening to the back of the counter. When you straightened up, your boyfriend was already by your side, arms wrapped around your shoulders, drinking in your presence.

The blonde turned around, now staring at you, with furrowed brows and a scowl on her face.

“Mornin’.” He swooped down, lips connecting with yours in a chaste kiss. A sigh left your body, arms encasing around his shoulders, and you heard a scoff sound from behind, followed by the door opening and closing.

You stayed there for a couple of minutes, in each other’s arms, just enjoying the peace and quiet – the rarest thing to happen when in town. You nosed at Kenny’s throat and he inhaled deeply, red creeping up the side of his neck.

“I missed you.” You whispered. He stayed silent for a few seconds, squeezing you tighter.

“You saw me last night.”

You could hear the smile in his voice; this is it, you thought. This is a good change.

Kenny was hurting.

Kenny was mourning.

But the town – the people, didn’t give him the time he needed to go through this, so the best thing you could do to not see him fade away was stay by his side and not let him wither.

(You missed Tian-Chen, too.

She treated you like her own. She loved you, and you loved her.

She told you to stay with Jade and Victor that night.

You shouldn’t have.)

“It’s a few hours too much, still.” You replied, grinning.

Kenny let go of the embrace first, in favor of throwing away the – now – cold tea. "You're veeeery cheesy."

"This is how you love me, anyways."

"Yeah." He sighed, leaning back onto the counter, arms open again. He didn't need to ask - you gladly embraced him, arms around his waist this time, as he leaned down and hid his face near your collarbone.

"I do."

You stayed there for God knows how long, fingers carding through Kenny's soft, thick hair; humming a song you knew he loved, whispering about how your mornings went, and the dreams you had.

You both had given up on the house after Tian-Chen passed away, and Jim permeated the place with his presence (although you knew he meant no harm, the place was suffocating). Kenny moved into colony house, while you stayed at the station with Boyd. Victor would have no qualms about you moving there with him, seeing as he had the safest room in that place, but Henry was there with him, and you didn't mean to intrude.

The both of you left the diner together, hand-in-hand, ready to face the day ahead.

Shortly after, Boyd assigned you with the task of helping him around - there were more people now, and he could use some help figuring shit out. Ellis was panicking - something happened with Fatima -, and the man wanted to help his kid, so you left to do some of his own chores.

Night came.

You slept in the "archive room", a little nook used to store boxes in the station; Boyd had helped you get a bed in there, and that was good enough. There was one little window on the upper side of the room, and, even though you kept it tightly shut (you nailed it, as a precaution), the whispers and giggles still seeped into the space and made it harder for you to sleep.

The sun rose with a golden hue. The orange glow shone through the clear glass, straight onto your face; with a groan, you rose up from the mattress, stretching as your body slowly woke up.

Another day where you got up, did your shit and hoped for the best - except this time, there wasn't even any hope to begin with.

"Tillie's dead." Boyd told you as you got to colony house, a few minutes after him. "We don't know who did it, but it wasn't a creature."

Ellis fidgeted beside his dad; it looked like he wanted to say something, but held himself back.

"You okay, Ellis?" You asked, with furrowed brows. "Is Fatima okay?"

Ellis inhaled sharply. Boyd glanced at him, and back at you.

"She's fine." The young man replied, nodding his head. "Aside from the nausea, and the, uh. The other stuff."

The ultrasound issue.

"Oh. Make sure she's safe, okay?" You said, nodding at the sheriff. "'m going in."

Boyd shook his head no.

"Wait here, please. Kenny and Acosta are inside, questioning the folks."

A burning feeling made its way up the back of your neck, up to your cheeks and forehead - although it was commonly associated with red, you knew what this was: green.

Jealousy.

Now, you wouldn't consider yourself a jealous person in any way, no; but the lingering glances, the manner in which she scoffed with no shame at your affection, how she thought she was the crispiest fucking fry of the batch?

Oh, fuck no.

Boyd and Ellis rushed away while you steeped in your own anger. Not long after, you heard two sets of footsteps walk out of the house, and there they actually were - your boyfriend, and the blue-uniform menace.

Kenny had a troubled look on his face while Acosta - what the fuck was her name, again? - yapped away with no regard to his feelings; obviously, no one would walk on eggshells here when it came to other people's feelings, but this was too much.

"Was what that guy said about Sara and your dad true?"

Enough is enough.

"It's not that simple."

You trailed off behind the duo, your own brows furrowed and fists tightly closed as you breathed in and out slowly.

Do not fight her. Do not throw fists. Do not. Refrain.

"Okay, you didn't think it was worth mentioning the girl that already murdered two people?"

"Look, it's just, uh, she's different now, and Boyd trusts her."

"Who gives a shit what Boyd thinks, okay?"

"Hey!"

They stopped at your shout, turning around. Turns out you were closer than it seemed; four steps were all it took for you to walk up to her stupid face and swing a fist straight to her jaw.

Kenny yelped, rushing to your side as Acosta doubled over, hand cradling her face; wild, blue eyes stared into your own as she straightened up, raising her own fists. Your boyfriend tried to step in, but you walked around, pushing him behind your own body.

"Come on, hit me." You said, ready for a blow. She hesitated, and then - you spoke up. "You're walking around like you own this place. As if you're mightier than anyone who has been stuck here."

Kenny moved, but you lifted up your hand, placing it on his chest. "Hun, please. Sit this one out."

Acosta scoffed. You faced her, seeing the way she looked between you and Kenny.

"Yeah, we met here. Yes, we fell in love here, we got together here. Yes, this has become our routine. Do you think we wanted to be here? You think we chose to stay?" Her eyes softened. "No, we don't. But we're trying our fucking best to stay alive and sane, because that way, we can think and figure out how to escape."

Your fists shook, angry tears threatening to fall.

"You have no idea what it feels like to witness the people we love wither away and get lured in by those fucks by night. So, at least, try to be a little more considerate of these people's feelings, won't you?"

Kenny took one of your closed fists in his own hand, slowly opening it and lacing your fingers together.

"That way, you might be able to actually help someone." You finished, staring at her bruising jaw. "Sorry I punched you."

Acosta swallowed deeply, glancing between yourself and Kenny.

"I never thought about that." She said, eyes finally settling on your own. "I understand. Apology accepted."

Kenny squeezed your hand, leaning down to whisper in your ear.

"Well, that's better than nothing."

You held in a snort, bumping your shoulders together.

"Are you going to come with us?" She asked, tilting her head towards the forest.

You nodded your head. "Yeah. What did you guys find out?"

Just as she opened her mouth to answer, a shrill yell echoed through the place.

"Help!"

Ethan.

Everyone looked towards the boy, as Kenny rushed to ask him what happened.

Acosta looked at you, and nodded; the both of you ran, and you sure fucking hoped this was the beginning of a good teamwork.

[angelwithdemonictendencies]

last time i was here the street were all bare; did you plant these flowers? are you paying them to bloom?

make yourself at home; chapter two.

5.6k. no warnings! just frustration and introducing more characters and that kind of thing.

(a/n: back again, favorites. here's chapter two of my baby for you. some of the side characters day ones will recognize (aiden is just jack quinn, okay?), and some are new. i hope you enjoy very much. let me know what you think (pretty please?) and tell me what's going on in your life so i can cheer you on. let me know what you want to see next sunday. leaning towards mt19 bartender or maybe something ax72. and either chapter three of this one or more of jack and vic. i hope this week is easy on you. until next week, xx angel).

olive awoke the following morning to lazy sunlight flowing through her window like hot fudge, thick and decadent. she opened her eyes and blinked in unfamiliarity for a moment, took in her surroundings, her mind and body adjusting to the fact that she was not in california, that she was instead back home.

she instinctively reached for her phone, scrolled through her notifications enough to understand that nothing had happened overnight that required her immediate attention. her get unready with me video had been approved, so she quickly posted that, read over her to-do list from management for the day.

good morning, gorgeous, began celeste’s daily text, as it always did, followed by the things olive needed to accomplish that day. she had a couple of calls in the middle of the day, an advertisement for a rain-boot brand to shoot, but other than that, her day was mostly open. i want to hear all about home! came at the end of celeste’s message.

olive stretched her arms out above her head, scrunching her nose up to wake up her face. what was there to report back to her manager, even? that she had a lot more possessions here than she anticipated? that she was even worse at talking to her parents than she remembered? that she wasn’t even brave enough to text back the one person here that she wanted to see?

after letting celeste know that she’d call her later, olive timidly opened her conversation with russell, then closed it again with a sigh. she didn’t want to hurt him, and was afraid that anything she said, anything she disclosed would do just that.

deciding that a walk might clear her mind, olive changed into a workout set, got ready in the bathroom, taking a few pictures in the mirror after she did so. her steps felt heavy, disruptive on the staircase as she made to head out.

“going out?” olive recognized her mother’s voice from a room over.

“just for a walk!” she said. there was a pause, perhaps during which danica was waiting for an invitation. it didn’t come.

"take a hat,” was what she landed on in its absence, and olive wondered if she was imagining a sense of deflation in her mother’s voice. “the uv gets high early now.”

“thanks, mom,” olive replied, snagging a baseball cap from the stair banister before leaving through the front door with all of the gratefulness of a toddler.

it was the beginning of june in the northeast, and the time change meant that olive woke up later than she typically did, so it was already hot and humid enough to make her miss the dry heat of the west. regardless, she pulled her long hair up into a ponytail, fixed her hat on her head, and set out on her walk, feeling a bit lighter, her head less cloudy with each step.

the back of her neck was a bit sticky, but the regularity of her breathing, the lullaby-like nature of her footsteps, it was calming in a way she needed. olive didn’t like high-intensity kinds of exercise, found them pressurized and stressful, but she liked to move, especially in the morning, liked to feel her joints and muscles shed their drowsiness and lingering tension.

her parent’s house was about a mile from the downtown area, and before she knew it, olive’s feet had led her to a familiar stretch, which was mostly the same, but a careful, observant eye could spot a few differences.

the sidewalk had been recently repaved, for example, was much wider and smoother, no longer the crack-filled surface that olive used to frequent on elementary school half-day afternoons. the library appeared to have been renovated on the outside, or at least cleaned up, and the bar must be under new management - the name was different than what olive remembered, and the sign outside the door looked much more modern than the lived-in, almost rustic feel that she could recall.

she passed the town hall, stopping to look at the bulletin board that was a permanent fixture outside of it. olive had fond memories of town hall meetings, chances to see friends from school after hours, to goof off and make fun of adults taking themselves seriously in unserious environments.

the bulletin board looked a little lackluster currently, in olive’s opinion. a few flyers for local businesses, cleaning services, seamstresses, and the likes of that, business cards and event reminders, but otherwise pretty scarce.

the poster that stuck out was a reminder to buy season tickets for the granite falls geckos, the paper pulling away from the board with humidity and age, given that the season had started a bit ago.

say you saw them before they got big! the poster read in bold block letters above a graphic that featured the team’s young stars. of course, russell was front and center, some halfway serious shot from media day that made olive smile. they had probably told him to give them a game face, she mused, but she knew anytime you asked russell to be serious, you were probably asking in vain. as such, even in a pose that was supposed to be intimidating, the corner of his mouth ticked up in a trace of a smile, and his eyes sparkled even through worn-out paper.

i knew him before anyone else, olive thought, however selfishly, although she knew in her heart that she didn’t need to tell anyone else that, that he wasn’t a gold-foil-covered chocolate medal to be bragged about. russell was the kind of person that was destined to be known by many, and olive just felt lucky to be one of those people.

shaking herself from her thoughts, olive made her way a bit further up the sidewalk and entered cool beans, the coffee shop at the end of the block. she inhaled deeply once in the doorway, the scent of roasted beans and sugar comforting and rejuvenating.

“welcome in,” some voice from behind the counter called, probably a knee-jerk reaction to the bell ringing on the top of the door, one that made her happy nonetheless. it was a weekday, so the seating area wasn’t necessarily crowded, but populated enough to tell olive that the store was doing well.

olive got in line, behind the singular person who was ordering at the counter, and looked around. there were two baristas behind the counter, by the shiny red espresso machine, and then the short, round-faced girl taking orders at the register, who looked vaguely familiar. olive thought about what sort of coffee she felt like this morning. she didn’t typically have a regular order, often opting for whatever felt right, whatever she was craving. sometimes it was a light latte, milky and sweet, and other times it was something bitter, dark, raw, like an iced americano.

when olive stepped up to order, she was met with the warm smile of the girl on the other side of the counter, the kind of smile that makes you want to smile, too. her name tag read mia.

“welcome to cool beans,” mia said, brushing her dark bangs away from her face. “what can I get started for you?”

“thank you,” olive said, “this might be annoying, but do you think you could make me whatever you feel like making? i’m indecisive this morning.”

mia’s grin grew, wide enough now that olive could see how sharp her incisors were, an obvious contradiction to the rest of her appearance. “know how to make a barista’s day, do you?”

olive gave a laugh. “barely,” she said, leaning on the counter a bit, tucking a flyaway strand of hair behind her ear, fingertips brushing her hat as she did so. “everything looks good and i’m overwhelmed.”

mia laughed, too, a high-pitched, but pleasant kind of noise, and it rang through the shop like church bells, making olive tilt her head. her laugh left olive a little starstruck. “you do need to help me out a bit, though,” mia continued, “just need a size, and if you’d like hot or cold.”

olive hummed, drummed her fingers on the counter in thought, her rings making a dull noise in contact. “let’s do cold, if you don’t mind,” she decided, “and medium, please and thank you.”

“good choice,” mia said, nodding to herself while writing something on a cup with a marker, then setting it on the counter to ring olive up. “gonna be six dollars today, love. name for the order?”

olive gave mia her name, paid, called out a thank you and left a generous tip, then turned to wait by the edge of the counter. she didn’t make it far, though, barely taking a step before she crashed into another person, sucking in a harsh breath as she felt hot liquid soak through her sports bra, the waistband of her leggings.

stuck for a second in something like shock, olive didn’t say anything for a moment, her gaze slow as it made its way to the culprit of the collision. olive looked up, met the guilty eyes of the person who had ordered ahead of her, now holding two near-empty cups. he appeared frozen, his face in a forever wince.

“now’s when you apologize, aidan,” mia said, and olive could hear a mixture of annoyance and amusement in her voice.

“i’m sorry,” aidan, olive presumed, mumbled. he looked sort of scared, his almost feminine features pained. “everyone’s been tellin’ me i have to watch where i’m going, and i'm trying, i swear, i just-”

“have no spacial or social awareness?” mia said, filling in the blank, tilting her head, teasing.

aidan sighed. he was still holding the empty paper cups like there was something valuable in them. he didn’t seem to mind that his own shirt was stained with coffee, nor did he seem especially cognizant of the temperature of it, as olive was. her face was flushed from the heat of the liquid, and while she didn’t think she had been burned, her clothes were now uncomfortable. “i really am sorry.”

olive mustered a slight smile, which wasn’t too difficult. aidan did seem apologetic, and if mia’s reaction was anything to go by, this was just the kind of person he was. olive had always been pretty quick to forgive, except in specific situations.

“don’t worry about it,” she said, wiping her wet hands on her thighs. “my fault, i'm sure. i can replace your coffees?”

mia was watching the interaction with something like keen interest as she shook up olive’s surprise concoction, poured it into a cup over ice. “olive, this is aidan. aidan, olive,” she said, slid the cup onto the counter. “and something sweet and honey-ish, for you.”

“thanks, mia,” olive said, picking up her cup and swirling it around, “and it’s nice to meet you, aidan, even under less than ideal circumstances."

“that’s generous of you,” mia said, before turning to her fellow baristas. “going on my fifteen, guys.” They gave vague affirmative noises.

mia came around the counter, forcing olive to appreciate just how short she was. olive wasn’t necessarily tall, but she had to have been a full half-foot taller than mia.

“aidan, baby, time to put the cups down,” mia said, not patronizing, just trying to encourage a sense of action and urgency from her friend. her words seemed to snap aidan out of his frigidity, as he walked over to the trash and threw his cups away, then wrung out his shirt over the bin until it was wrinkly and semi-dry where the stain had been. mia waved olive over to a door by the corner of the shop, a closet of some sort. “c’mon, you, i have a spare shirt you can borrow.”

“you’re a lifesaver,” olive breathed out, even though she didn’t need a shirt. she was only walking back to her house, and she didn’t really care if people on the way there saw her with a coffee stain on her clothes. however, she did not feel especially interested in turning down kindness, at this point in her trip home.

“you got a mop, mia?” aidan called from behind them.

“behind the counter, up against the wall,” she answered as she held the door open for olive, pushed up on her tiptoes to grab a shirt from the shelf on the side of the cramped room. “you won’t be the talk of the town in this, or anything, but it will do for now,” she said, handing the pale blue button down over. it was starchy in olive’s grip.

“i definitely don’t want to be the talk of the town,” olive responded, “so this is perfect. can’t thank you enough.”

mia waved her off, but her full cheeks were flushed a pleased pink. “anytime,” she said, following olive back out into the open air of the coffee shop, to where aidan was attempting to mop. he was, unfortunately, getting way too much water on the floor, arguably making more of a mess than there had been to begin with.

he looked up, blew out an exasperated breath, leaned his weight onto the mop. “i don’t know what i’m doing wrong,” he admitted.

“it’s fine,” mia said, holding her hand out, “just let me do it.” aidan shook his head. “just teach me, please. i need to do it.” mia nodded, like this was a common occurrence. maybe it was. as she showed aidan how to use the mop, olive approached the register once again.

“would you mind just doing two of whatever he ordered before?” olive asked the teenager behind the counter, pointing to where aidan stood. "thank you.”

after paying, olive looked at her phone and realized she actually needed to get back home to her computer. her first work call of the day was scheduled to start in less than an hour.

olive shouldered on her borrowed shirt, feeling a little spoiled, warm with content. as an only child, she didn’t know for sure, but she could imagine that this would be what hand-me-downs from an older sister might feel like. “i’ve got to head out,” she said to the mopping duo as she buttoned up her shirt, effectively concealing the coffee on her top. “but it was great to meet you guys. i hope i’ll see you around?” she adjusted her hat.

they both looked up to meet her gaze. “i’m always around,” mia said, “and you better find me.” to olive’s raised brow, mia laughed. “that shirt’s a loan, not a gift.”

olive smiled. “aidan, your drinks are on the counter, i think,” she clarified. the teenage barista had finished replacing them.

aidan looked a little taken aback by the gesture. “that’s really nice,” he observed. it was clear that he didn’t know what to do, what to say, which was endearing to olive. she knew what that felt like. “thank you.” his gaze flickered up for a moment. he nodded, tilting his chin up in gesture. “geckos fan?”

olive blinked, then realized her hat probably had some logo of the baseball team on it. she hadn’t noticed what hat she had grabbed on her way out the door this morning. her parents were fans, after all. maybe not directly of baseball, but absolutely of russell. she laughed, lightly, absentmindedly ran a hand along the brim. “something like that,” she said.

she waved a final goodbye and heard the joyful ring of the bell above her on the way out. the walk back home was swift, made even more pleasant by her drink. olive wasn’t usually a honey lover, but something about whatever mia had made her was exactly what she was looking for, just what she had been craving.

she found herself humming softly as she walked back, energized by her interaction with mia and mia’s odd friend. it had been a long time since she met someone new in this place. whenever she visited home during college, it was only for a few days at a time, so she felt obligated to stay home, or perhaps comfortable with doing so, seeing the same few people for the span during which she was there.

it was refreshing to understand that this town was a bit bigger than she remembered, that the faces of the town were not still confined to the features of her childhood bullies and disapproving family members.

there were no cars in the driveway when olive turned onto her street, which meant jerry was at work, danica was probably out running errands or at the daycare or something like that. olive was a little excited to have something genuine to ask her mom over dinner that night.

pressed for time, olive jogged up the stairs and grabbed her computer, brought it down to the dining room table to take her calls from there, where there was more natural light. her meetings were quick and routine, just check-ins and planning, one run by her manager, whose face was a comfort. as usual, she stayed on the video call when everyone but celeste had left the meeting.

“jesus, enough chatter from me, hm?” celeste said from her virtual box on olive’s screen, taking off her glasses and rubbing her eyes. “what’s new? how’s home?”

“you know i love your chatter,” olive assured her, because it was true. she didn’t know how she would make it through so many logistics meetings and networking events without her manager and friend.

“only because you don’t let me forget it,” celeste responded. “now, don’t try to evade my questions. i’m only asking ‘cause i miss you.”

olive sighed, smiled, crossed her arms in front of her on the wooden table. “i miss you, too,” she said, honestly, “not much new. home is home. the same.”

celeste hummed like she understood. “don’t sound too excited, gorgeous. i might get jealous.” olive laughed, but it was short. “it’s actually fine. i’m complaining, but it’s fine.”

“have you seen him yet?”

olive paused at this, her gaze dropping down to her hands. celeste knew about russell, about their history, the extent of their relationship, but all from the los angeles perspective. to celeste, russell was olive’s nameless high school sweetheart, her faceless small-town fling. to olive - well, she wasn’t really sure what russell was to her, but he seemed to be more monumental than just a bundle of trope-y labels. even apart, even when she hadn’t seen him yet, his presence was felt.

“no,” olive said, soft, “i haven’t seen him. just been-”

“busy?” celeste finished, an amused sort of smile sparkling even through a computer screen. “seems that way. way too busy to see him, even for a moment, i’m sure.”

olive shot her manager a look. “i’m not sure i love your tone.”

“i’m not sure i love yours, either.” olive rolled her eyes, but she was smiling. she sighed, thinking. “has he reached out at all?” to a nod in response, celeste hummed. “and you haven’t responded?”

“i mean, i responded to the first text,” olive explained, waving a manicured hand around in gesture, looking up from her computer and out her window. “but then he said something really,” she paused, exhaled, remembering, “just really sweet, and i felt bad, because no matter when i tell him i'm not coming back it’s gonna be bad, and i just feel like if i don’t see him it will be easier for both of us.”

celeste nodded, holding her sharp chin in her hand. “ah,” she said, “you’re avoiding him.”

Olive scoffed. “it’s only been a day,” she defended.

“sure, but you have no plans that involve not avoiding him.”

“i guess,” olive said, “but it’s not like i don’t want to see him. i just think the whole thing will be-”

“easier, yes, as you’ve said,” celeste finished, waving her off. “thank god. because we don’t have enough people in this world looking for the easy way out.”

“you’re such a help today, aren’t you?”

celeste raised her hands in surrender. “just because i’m suggesting doing something you don’t want to do doesn’t mean i’m not helping.”

olive scrunched up her nose. “i hate when you’re right.”

“really? it is one of my greatest sources of joy.” celeste was kidding, but there was a glimmer of understanding in her eyes. “i just know you, olive. and even if i don’t know him, i can tell that he’s important to you. maybe even more so than you let on.”

olive appreciated her friend, then. even if she didn’t necessarily agree, even if olive believed that sometimes easier was actually better, that it was a good thing to try to avoid hurting the people you care about, olive appreciated celeste, and felt lucky to have her, even through a screen, across the country.

“i really miss you,” she said.

“then finish packing and come home,” was celeste’s immediate response, like it was the easiest thing in the world. it could be easy, olive thought, so why did it feel so hard? why did home feel hard no matter which home she was referring to? “i’ll expect your rough cut for the boot ad in a few hours, and i’ll send your check-list tomorrow morning, okay?”

olive nodded. “i'm headed out to shoot now. it’s not raining, though.”

“you’ll figure something out,” celeste said, “anything you need from me?”

“all good for now. i'll text if anything comes up. love you.”

“love you, too. hang in there.” celeste’s image on her screen disappeared mid-wave goodbye. olive shut her computer with an exhale, headed upstairs to change and grab the boots she needed for her ad. they were a shiny red rainboot, a sleek design, the color selected specifically to fit seamlessly into her account’s feed. with her hands full of camera equipment, she made her way outside, the sun bright on her face.

“no rain rainboots, no rain rainboots,” she murmured to herself, thinking about how to make her photo realistic, engaging.

with so many things in her hands, olive stumbled over something at her feet, cursing under her breath at the sharp pain in her foot. looking down, she discovered that she had tripped over a lawn sprinkler connected to a hose. “that’ll do,” olive said, her mouth in an impressed sort of slant, setting down her things, creativity sparking like a rusty old lighter in her head. In her field, it was always a treat when she could showcase some imagination, something that went beyond surface level aesthetic appeal.

after a bit of maneuvering, olive had effectively set up a manmade sun-shower. she’d configured the settings so, if the sprinkler was out of frame, the water droplets just looked like a smattering of afternoon rain, cutting through the sticky humidity. all of the rainstorm practicality and realism, without the typical poor lighting that came along with it. perfect.

olive changed into the boots, then took a few different shots from a few different angles, some with the sprinkler on, some off. She was in a grove, capturing a wide array of the product’s attributes, and was in the middle of taking a short clip of her stamping the boot into a puddle when she heard the sound of an old engine sputtering off.

she didn’t have to look up to know whose truck was in her driveway. it was a sound she would know anywhere, one she’d heard a thousand times before, usually from the passenger seat perspective. olive didn’t have to look up to know that it was russell’s banged-up truck in the driveway of her parents’ house, but she did, anyway.

she did anyway, and was shocked to observe that russell had possibly become more beautiful since the last time she’d seen him. olive knew that he wasn’t the lanky kid she’d met all that time ago, but seeing him was a reminder that she was growing up too, into her body, into her face, into her mind and being.

russell hopped down from his truck easily, shutting the door carefully, then turned to face olive while fixing a cap down on his head. he moved like the athlete he was, but that ease came with a sense of comfort and confidence, too. his light hair still curled out from under the brim, the way it had since he was a kid. if he’d been beautiful last time she was home, russell was ruinous now, devastating, his features sharper, a slight stubble on his jaw, his high cheekbones illuminated by the late day sun. his immediate smile was what really undid her - made her stomach flutter like a moth's wings, made her fingers twitch like tiny fragments of lightning.

his smile followed her wherever she went, a constant phantom in her mind, so she guessed that it made sense that when it was here, now, up-close and personal, it was monumental, all perfect teeth and genuinity, naturally curving up higher on the left side than the right. focused on her, now, it froze her entirely, turned her legs gelatinous and her heart volcanic.

“i guessed you were busy, but not this busy, ol.”

olive’s breath suddenly felt strangled escaping her throat, as if her heart was fizzing in her chest like a just-opened can of soda. She suddenly felt a little stupid, or at least a little juvenile, standing in her front yard making fake rain, like she’d been caught in some embarrassing act. his voice rumbled through her like something seismic. she could hear the smile in it, the teasing, and no one called her that except for him.

she straightened, ran her palms along the tops of her thighs, trying to hasten the process of adjusting to his presence. “just shooting an ad,” olive responded, her feet keeping her still where she stood as russell walked over to her, leisurely, like he had all the time in the world. she waved her hand vaguely towards her boots. “had to get creative.”

he stopped a few steps from her, not insecure but cautious, maybe, as his gaze dripped lazily down her frame, drinking her in greedily. “i’ll buy whatever you’re selling.”

olive rolled her eyes, but could have sighed in content, too, at his unwavering support, at his seemingly blind belief that was anything but blind, in reality. her job had left her wary of others’ perceptions, but it had never felt like a chore to be perceived by him. more like a privilege. “what’re you doing here, rus?” her words came out sort of breathy.

russell squinted at olive for a moment, like he didn’t know what to say, like he was deciding where to go from here. he had shown up without invitation, after all, unexpectedly. olive had hoped that when she decided she was ready to see russell again, if she decided she was, she would be the one to plan the whole thing, so that she could control the whole situation. she didn’t like surprises. this was a surprise, and she felt unprepared, jittery with nerves.

“had to make sure my intel was correct,” he mused, “wanted to make sure you were actually home.” he rocked back and forth once on his heels, letting out a visible exhale. “hadn’t heard from you, ‘s all.”

olive swallowed, made some lazy gesture to herself. her red boots felt too big for her. “i’m home,” she said, a light laugh tinting the words with something she didn’t like. guilt, perhaps, at not answering his text. at throwing a wrench into the one thing that seemed to work, over and over again.

russell made some humming noise, his brow pinching for a moment, maybe confused at her lack of explanation, the fact that she hadn’t given some excuse for her delay in seeing him. olive was confused, too. coming back home had always been easy, when it came to him. there was practically a script to follow. this used to be simple. what could she do now that she had elected to light the script on fire?

being so close to him without touching him, especially after being apart for so long, it made each heartbeat feel slow like sludge, made her feel almost sick. she didn’t have to shut him out completely, she reasoned, as long as she didn’t let it get too far. olive could toe the line, she told herself, could carefully balance enough distance to be smart and enough closeness to remain sane.

olive cleared her throat, made space for words that didn’t come, willed her feet to take a step closer to him, timid, careful.

russel’s mouth ticked up at this, amused. he leaned back into his posture, adjusted his hat, crossed his arms across his broad chest, waiting. waiting for her to move, to break her silence. he’d been the one doing the waiting, up until now, so it was only fair.

a step apart, now, olive tilted her head back slightly to look russell in the face. his long lashes framed eyes that swam with a million conflicting things. the air sparked with a clash of sameness and difference.

olive’s arms hung limply, awkwardly at her sides. “it’s good to see you,” she said.

“yeah?” russell seemed to soften, at this, to hear something substantial in her styrofoam-stiff words. he uncrossed his arms, his hand drifting towards hers until their fingers touched, feather-light, almost undetectable. a touch that made her shiver, nonetheless, felt like being plunged underwater after a day in the shore-side sun.

olive nodded. “i missed you, rus.” it came out like a prayer, with all of the devotion and desperation to match.

russell gave a short laugh, like olive had made a joke, any hesitation evaporating as he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close, until her cheek was pressed up against the cotton of his shirt.

she swore the world melted away, for a minute. olive closed her eyes, swallowed roughly, felt her own arms slowly reach around russell until her palms rested on his shoulder blades. everything was simple, like this.

“i missed you, too,” he mumbled into her hair, squeezed her tighter. they existed like this, together, for several moments until olive regained some semblance of self-awareness and pulled back, however reluctantly.

she cleared her throat again, smiled up at him, easier than before. he smiled back at her, seemed unwilling to retreat too far from her, instead opting to reach his hand up, brush his fingers along her hairline.

“how long do i get you?” he asked.

olive might have winced. her gaze definitely sank down to her feet, unable to look him in the eye, tell him the complete truth. “i’m home for a bit,” she said, vaguely. russell’s eyes were full of contradiction, again, half-way drenched in excitement at seeing her for a while, halfway aware of the fact that she had clarified that she was home for some time, not that he’d get her for that time.

she tried not to think that she was a terrible person by hiding the truth from him. she tried to feel like she was doing the right thing.

“how’ve you been?” she asked, instead, wanting to change the subject, but also just wanting to know. “fresh off a national title, hm?”

russell laughed, walked over to the stairs of her front porch and lowered himself down onto them, resting his elbows on his knees. olive followed suit, mirrored his posture, just to his right. “already feels so long ago,” he admitted, “onto a new team, new league, new game, practically.”

olive nodded thoughtfully. it was crazy to think that he was a professional now, not surprising, but a reminder of the passage of time, of dreams, being realized. and she knew what it felt like, to feel thrust into something foreign, to have something you thought you understood suddenly come into question.

“what about you, then, kid?” he knocked his knee against hers playfully. “last time we spoke you were, what, goin’ on some podcast? how’d that go?”

olive furrowed her brow. “thought I sent that to you. you didn’t listen?” it was a weird feeling, the prospect that he didn’t dwell on their every interaction as she did.

but russell just gave a bashful kind of smile, tilting his head, scrunching up his nose. “i did,” he said, flushed, “just tryna’ play it cool, ‘s all.”

olive rolled her eyes, secretly pleased. “you’re so nonchalant, rus, it’s killin’ me.”

russell exhaled, a sound of bliss at this fragment of normalcy after bits and pieces of unfamiliarity. “you’re sweet, ol, thinkin’ i know what nonchalant means.”

olive just sighed, laid her head gently onto his shoulder, the both of them looking ahead, out at the well-kept lawn. he reached his arm around her shoulder, pulled her closer. it was easiest to pretend she wasn’t crossing a line, olive observed, when she wasn’t looking at him. “still got that piece of junk, do you?” she asked, nodding towards his truck.

she felt his laugh in her back. “don’t be mean,” he pressed, “she’s been with me through everything.”

he meant it lightly, but olive heard what went unsaid. that his truck had been with him through everything. that she had not.

russell seemed to sense her change in emotion, at any rate, his thumb tracing gentle circles in her upper arm. “so, what’d you do today? besides your shoot, which i interrupted.”

olive smiled, closed her eyes, thought back on her day. “not much,” she answered, “some calls, went for a walk, got a coffee spilled on me-”

“at cool beans?”

olive opened her eyes, tilted her head back so she could look up at russell from his shoulder. “how’d you know?”

he gave a sly smile, shook his head in a disbelieving laugh. “of course you’re who aidan was rambling about at practice.”

olive’s smile quirked at the mention of her new acquaintance. “you know aidan?”

russell scoffed without malice. “that’s my center fielder you’re talking about.” he shot her a look. “should have known, after he came in all flustered over the girl who bought his coffee.” he sucked on his teeth, made a tsk sound. “haven’t seen the affliction in action in a while, can’t believe i missed the symptoms.”

olive elbowed him in the gut, straightened until she was looking at him head on, halfway laughing. “good grief, not this again, rus.”

russell just raised both of his hands in surrender. “nothing against you, ol. i just feel bad, losing yet another comrade to the fleming flu, it’s terrible, really. please, leave me to grieve my friend in peace.”

It was sometime around sophomore year in high school that russell had come up with the concept of the fleming flu - in other words, the symptoms someone exhibited after meeting olive for the first time. nervous energy, prone to stuttering, a little daydreamy. even as a teenager, russell had loved to make fun of olive for the distinct effect she had on others, though always in good fun.

olive groaned, held her head in her hands. “you’re impossible.”

“hey, hey, now,” russell said, almost apologetic, wrapping her in his arms and holding her close again. “i can only say it ‘cause i’ve got the worst case, haven’t i?” he dipped his head down until she could feel his breath on her ear. “pretty sure it’s chronic, kid.”

“we need to get you help,” olive said, shaking her head.

“‘fraid there’s no cure,” russell said, “aid’ll be fine, though. guy forgets about things before they finish happening.”

olive laughed, trying to ignore the way her body basically sighed in relief at being held by him. if she didn’t acknowledge it, maybe she could believe she wasn’t doing anything wrong. “he seems sweet,” she said, recalling aidan’s demeanor. “a little clumsy, but sweet.”

olive could have fallen asleep like this, sinking into russell’s chest. there was a comfortable silence, a pause that could have been a few moments, could have been an hour. the sticky air now just felt pleasantly warm.

“got any plans for tonight?” russell asked, at some point, his voice textured with a slight rasp after however long a silence. “i have my own place now, if you want to see it.”

olive’s exhale felt weighted. she wanted to see his place, sure, wanted to spend as much time with him as possible, but she knew it wasn’t a good idea - that once they were alone at his place together it would be long before history repeated itself and someone ended up hurt.

“i just,” olive tried, voice stable despite feeling anything but, “i just don’t think it’s a good idea for me to come over tonight.”

russell was quiet, searching her eyes for something. the pause felt like a grand piano on her heart. olive could feel his probing gaze on her profile, looking for some signal, some sign. it tore her apart that she couldn’t give him one.

“okay, kid,” he said. “i’ll see you tomorrow? maybe we can do something?”

if there was one thing that olive knew about russell, it was that he would never push her further than she wanted to go. in that sense, as long as she laid the boundaries, he would follow. it appeared to be the laying of boundaries that posed a problem.

“yes, please.” olive nodded, wanting to see him but not wanting to be one-on-one, knowing she wouldn’t survive it, knowing being around other people was safer. “maybe we could meet at the bar downtown?”

russell’s eyes flashed, momentary, but olive caught it, a rocket-ship flare of disappointment. “yeah,” he said, still, “yeah, perfect. i’ll bring some of the guys.”

olive stood up and hugged russell goodbye, and she couldn’t ignore the way he held her, then - like her feet were buoyant in the air, like she was floating away, and he was the only thing keeping her on the ground.

as his truck roared to life, pulled out of her driveway, she gave a little wave, to which russell honked the old horn twice, like he used to do, every time he’d leave her house.

that night, olive slept in bouts of doubt, amidst tantrums of guilt. olive slept poorly.

fin. (until the next chapter).

[perilegs]

it's so weird when there's a kink you're not into, and you'd be uncomfortable at best performing it, and it's not even a denial thing since you genuinely want no part in it. but then you're exposed to it in a highly specific context as a part of something else and your thoughts on it remain the same but at the same time you don't know which part of it made you

[giantkillerjack]

Uh-oh! You are like, SOOO awkward!!

You're so awkward that it is occasionally mildly uncomfortable for people!

You're so awkward that sometimes people are confused by you and then there are awkward silences!

You're so awkward ...... that ultimately no one is harmed!!

Oh damn!!! What a vile crime you have committed! What an unforgivable thing it is to make a fellow human briefly confused!

Why, if *I* were ever briefly confused and kind of uncomfortable as a result, I'd be devastated.... by the absolute net zero change in my happiness and health! - From which I might never recover!! Yes indeed! No punishment can ever be enough for you!!

So you better absolutely hate yourself for it.

Better be SO MEAN to yourself about every single missed social cue so you don't forget your horrible crime! Meaner than you'd ever dream of being to someone else for the same thing! This is YOUR responsibility!

You need to show the world that you KNOW you are bad by punishing yourself constantly! After all, think of all the people who BENEFIT from you punishing yourself! - No, really! Think about it! Think about who benefits from your pain.

Think of alllllll the definitely-good people that your definitely-necessary self-torment definitely helps! I mean, you can't just cut off their definitely-life-sustaining supply of your suffering, right?? Sure, everyone else has a breaking point, but you're probably the only person in human history who doesn't, right? Best not to question it probably. Sure, it's a symptom that billions of people with trauma have had, but who knows? You could be a one-in-seven-billion exception. Anything's possible!

Instead, better just accept that idea that bullies carry like guns in holsters - the idea that people who have trouble with social cues deserve to suffer. Better carry on the burden they placed on you until you drop. Aid the cause of the callous by enforcing shame and suffering upon yourself extra hard; try your best to do their work for them. They're very busy.

Better not recognize that you need patience and kindness to heal from your trauma. Better not find out that it was trauma rather than personal weakness filling your head with self-hating thoughts. Better not find out it wasn't your fault.

Better not find out that awkwardness is not inherently harmful or unkind, and, in fact, the people who act like it is *are the ones enacting harm and being cruel.*

Better not get righteously angry when you realize just how much unnecessary damage this has done to you. After all, if you get mad, you might realize you deserve better. You might even feel brave enough to DEMAND better! You might build boundaries that keep you safe! You might make other people think they deserve to feel safe too! And we obviously can't be having that, so...

Better not show yourself even a little kindness a little bit at a time.

Better not make a habit out of it after all that practice.

Better not get confident.

Especially if you can't first wipe out every trace of awkward. (And you probably never will. Because people who experience absolute social certainty at all times tend to be insufferable assholes that enforce the status quo. And you just don't have the stock portfolio for that.)

Better not be confident and awkward because then you might confuse and delight people

- you might accidentally end up making other people feel less shame for their social difficulties

- you might make isolated, traumatized, and shy people feel like they deserve to be included in social situations

- you might even make them feel they can be themselves around you

- you might start loving the effect you have on a room

- you might enjoy conversations more

- you might forgive yourself and bounce back from shame more easily and frequently

- you might come to enjoy some of those moments of harmless confusion you cause because NOBODY expects the Confident Awkward, and that can genuinely be an advantage in social situations

- you might stop apologizing so much.

- you might find that socializing is like a video game: it requires practice but also a safe space for it to be fun and positive.

Or if you can't become assertive and confident, better not remain awkward and shy and quiet, and then love and forgive yourself anyway!

Why, it would be carnage!!

In either scenario, you run the risk of finding out that it's not your fault that safe spaces full of kind people can be really hard to find, create, and nurture. You could end up building a skillset that helps you do those things if you're not careful!

If you start giving yourself even the tiniest amount of grace at a time, you will find that you've accessed a gateway drug with extreme long-term side effects:

- You might realize that it was never your fault that it took so long to like yourself.

- You might realize that you were always worth talking to, even when you didn't like yourself and communication felt impossibly difficult.

- You might realize that you'll still be worth talking to even if communication becomes harder as you age and/or experience disability.

- You might come to know that you deserve to be heard even on bad days when words come slow and blurry.

You might discover that you were always deserving of kindness, first and foremost from yourself.

So. As you can see, it's FAR too much of a risk to start granting your awkward self free pardons for your many heinous and harmless crimes. Better to just leave it there.

[usercelestial]

okay i get it but i also think its important to acknowledge that there is a difference between knowing from an audience standpoint that a character should be queer VS it firmly being acknowledged verbally within the narrative as a solid aspect of that character's identity irrefutably

[ceruleanfuckup]

So I had a fantastic date tonight.

[slippery-minghus]

hmm. had an actual conversation with nightmare coworker today that seemed mutually productive. she apologized for saying some bullshit that hurt my feelings and i clarified that my intentions are to help not to undermine her, and we both agreed that there's no competition against each other and that it's the lack of growth in our role that's the problem. it was...productive.

and further cementing for me that it is time to begin making my Exit. i will be sending out my resume to a few places this weekend.

i'm still processing the conversation, and am struggling to place myself in where i am responsible to better my behavior. because i genuinely don't want to be an ass, even though i really don't like this lady and will jump for joy the day i never have to see her again. she stated that she knows my intentions aren't to hurt her, and that she thinks i'm very kind. i apologized for if my behavior came off as undermining her, and said that my intentions are only to better my own growth—and that i know she's trying to succeed too. i validated her feelings, and complemented the effort she is putting in.

where i'm struggling with is: am i in the wrong/causing harm and needing to change if the issue is that her feelings are incongruent with what she knows of my intentions? her feelings are her responsibility (WOW i almost typed "her feelings are my responsibility". i feel like that's a freudian slip) and she states that she knows i don't mean to hurt her. i'm going to try to be more clear in wording my intentions with her (she feels like me trying to take work off her plate is to undermine her. when really, i'm caught up and see her getting overwhelmed, and i want to help and also have something to do since i'm bored).

but i'm really struggling to look at my role in this and pass judgement on myself. i can and want to do better, and i don't think i did anything wrong, but i'm always so hesitant to say it's not my fault or i didn't do something bad. like i can't trust my judgement on that. my intentions were good, her bad feelings are ones caused by her insecurities, which she more or less has expressed to be aware that they are not true—the hurtful thing she said to me, she acknowledged was said out of hurt and not what she actually thinks. so, is it fair to say i'm not the bad guy? i'm not in the wrong? i know good intentions that still result in harm don't absolve anyone, but when the things that are clashing are insufficient communication and reactive insecurities... i'm not a monster, am i?

[caninecowboy]

24 days!

[bladeofthestars]

.

[thebigqueer]

Your breakup really really reminds me of my first (and only) wlw relationship/breakup everything you're saying hits home a lot. You will get through it but tbh it's so hard to heal and it still grinds my gears when I think about her and how we broke up. Idk if that helps but I understand what you're going though

YEAH MAN ITS TOUGH OUT HERE FR!!! its not my first queer relationship but like something about this is genuilnely the most world-shattering romantic experience ive had cuz we went into this soooo head over heels for each other like we were literally moving SO fast. and at the time i was like is it ok for us to even be moving this fast (probs tmi but we were literally making out shirtless by like 2nd time we even made out) (probs not a big deal to most people but i experienced a LOT of new things with her that id never experienced befoer & the fact that i was so WILLING to do it so fast was what surprised me the most) but then i was like okk whateverrr i really like how fast we're moving. and i was like 'damn if were moving this fast & if im feeling so good it has to end soon right like theres no way life is going to let me just be happy w this' and then i was like 'no elts not think about it' and then what do you know 5 months later she brekas up w me. and neither of us did anything wrong but it was so random??? like i dont understand how one moment shes telling me how excited she is to spend the entire semester with me and then literally 36 hours later tell me shes not feeling an emotional connection but wont even give us the chance to work it out. i know she also broke it off for personal reasons but its like... this was something we could have TRIED to work out you know!!! maybe it wouldnt have worked in the end but literally nothing felt off to me at all & if id known she was feeling this way i wouldve done my best to make things better. the entire breakup was so sudden and honestly im really not mad at her because i know how nerve-wracking it is to be in your first relationship. i think its just that im really dispapointed she gave up on us so easily you know??? didnt even give us a chance to figure it out