#i wanted to write a letter about feeling down because ive been feeling down so it might be a lil bit projection on my part

[samsno1]

you should write jealous sam!!

Gut Feeling

Sam Winchester x F!Reader

the gif is not exactly accurate since the fic passes after the first lucifer shenenigans but i wanted to use it. also, sorry that it took so long to write this request, ive been struggling for a while with writing but here it is, better late than never i guess

Summary: Falling in love with his brother's best friend is good, Sam could keep it secret and stay close to her at the same time but jealousy eats at him slowly because her and Dean seem way too close for his liking

Warnings: just fluff, kind of hurt/comfort, jealousy (duh), sam wants to kill dean, dean is flirty and reader jokingly flirts back, sam's got it bad, hinted bisexual sam because idc what anyone says this man ain't straight, NOT PROOF READ, english is not my first language

wc: 4.3k

enjoy!

Sam wouldn’t call himself a jealous man, especially of those who weren’t romantically related to him. He had his insecurities but, if any woman or man was willing to be with him, even knowing everything that he did, — and does — he didn’t think they would feel the need to betray him. Besides, Sam wasn’t cocky, but he knew he was above average in the ranking of looks, he had been more than assured of that by both men and women throughout his life. Even so, Sam still was Sam, the one who constantly put himself down, the one who constantly didn’t feel enough and the one that constantly stared at you like a predator eyeing a prey everytime you were too giggly with his brother.

You had come into the Winchester’s lives while Sam was away at college, meeting Dean and his father, John, first. It took a few weeks for you to find out through a fight between Dean and John that Sam existed and that he was Dean’s younger brother. You had questioned Dean at the time while comforting him after the heated argument why he hadn’t told you about Sam and he said it was a sensitive subject. You had assumed Sam died — thank God you were wrong — but he was studying Law at Stanford. You were shocked at that, usually hunters that grew in the life didn’t even care about education, much less were capable of getting into a renewed University such as Stanford. Dean told you about how Sam always hated hunting, complained about constantly moving, had straight A’s in whatever schools he went to and, as soon as he got the invitation letter, he left.

You could see Dean missed his brother, just talking about Sam made him show this nostalgic look, like he was talking about a distant memory. A few months later you finally met Sam while you looked for John — who had disappeared in a hunt. He wasn’t what you expected — usually you picture the younger brother shorter and you didn’t stop making fun of Dean for days after that. Sam was smart with quick thinking and incredible deducing skills, finding out about the Woman in White was easier than you thought it would be.

At the end of the hunt, you said your goodbyes to Sam. You could see the bitterness surrounding Dean when he couldn’t convince Sam to keep hunting with him and your hand rubbed his back discreetly for comfort.

Imagine your surprise when you hear Sam scream in horror as fire spreads through his home. Dean didn’t think twice before going in, soon coming back out with Sam, who was crying his heart out as he put up a battle against his brother while Dean pulled him away from the fire. He screamed a girl’s name — Jess, his girlfriend — and you soon understood what happened.

Ever since then it was you, Sam and Dean against the world, literally. You were there when their father died selling his soul to save Dean, you were there when Sam died and tried to convince Dean not to sell his soul for him and do the same his father did — when you thought you finally persuaded him he sneaked out when you were sleeping and made a deal —, you were there when Dean went to hell and back and met the Angel Castiel, when Sam was addicted to demon blood, when the brothers wouldn’t stop fighting, when Lucifer was freed and everything the boys had gone through up until now.

Throughout these years, Sam grew enchanted by you. At first, he didn’t think much of you, he thought you were dating Dean and when he questioned you about it you made a fake gag sound, dramatizing your motions by putting a hand to your stomach and curving your spine forward. You got a chuckle out of Sam and rolling eyes out of Dean. On a more serious note, you clarified to him that you and Dean were nothing more than close friends and that you had been there for Dean when he needed you, and Dean, for you.

You had developed somewhat of a close relationship with the brothers as the years passed and they were your rock. When your parents died on a hunt of their own you were inconsolable and Sam and Dean were there to help you grieve. When you wouldn’t get out of bed for days it was Sam who brought you breakfast, lunch and dinner. Dean would distract you by telling you stories about 80s drummers and rock bands. They comforted you through the whole thing and you couldn’t be more grateful. When you thanked them they said it was the bare minimum they could’ve done for you since, according to them, you had been there for them through the toughest shit.

Sam never thought he would secretly fall for you, so secretly that not even he noticed. He doesn’t know when it began but he remembers when your smiles got brighter and your eyes shinier as he swam through the color in them. Your laugh got sweeter and your gestures had more meaning — at least in Sam’s eyes they did.

He would catch himself stealing glances from afar, learning the littlest of things about you just so he could impress you, yearning to be closer to you, not just physically but emotionally. He would read your favorite books and watch your favorite movies just to have something to talk to you about and he loved when you shot that confused yet shocked look at him when he mentioned your favorite media. Your eyebrows first furrowed as you looked at him then your eyes widened and a smile opened up in your face — oh, your smile — as you started talking about all the things that you liked in said book or film. It was the most beautiful thing Sam had ever laid his eyes on. 

After Jess, he didn’t think he would feel this way ever again. Of course his deceased girlfriend still crossed his mind until this day, it was hard to forget someone like that, especially with such a horrific death. Especially someone Sam loved. But you were there, in his mind, from when he woke up until he fell asleep, maybe even in his dreams. You were easy to love, your personality was incredible, your looks were capable of taking people’s breath away easily and, being a hunter, your strength was more than impressive, mentally and physically.

But Sam didn’t want to love you, he felt guilty for loving you. He had his fair share of terrible experiences with romantic partners and he would never forgive himself if something ever happened to you — much how he doesn’t forgive himself from what happened to Jess. So he swallowed those feelings down and kept them hidden as well as he could. Even now that you are sitting close to Dean in the booth, his arm over your shoulder as you look through the diner menu. Dean’s thumb caressed your shoulder and Sam felt sick to his stomach.

“I think I’m going to get a chicken burger with fries, it’s cheap and looks good” You said as your finger ran through the page, looking between the prices and the food itself. Being a hunter on the road didn’t allow you to waste much so you always went for the cheapest looking thing on the menu but that still looked decent enough to eat. “Sam”

That brought him back to reality, your gentle voice making him look at you. He hummed as an answer to his name being called.

“There’s some good options of salads here, do you want to take a look?” You said with a small smile, offering him the menu. Dean piped up and brought the menu back to himself.

“Wait, Sweetheart, I didn’t even choose what I want” He complained and you rolled your eyes.

“Don’t pretend you aren’t already sure of what you want. Bacon cheeseburger with fries, extra bacon”

Dean shot you a wide grin. “You know me too well…Okay Sam, dive in” He said to his brother as he closed the menu and handed it to him.

Sam’s blood was boiling. Sweetheart? You know me too well? He was going to kill Dean as soon as he got the chance. He grabbed the menu from him with a fake smile and a weak thanks then looked at you. His face softened. “I’ll look through it, thank you”

“The Cobb Salad seems good, if I was in the mood for salad, I’d go for that one” You said, pointing the dish out on the page. This type of salad had bacon in it. “If you don’t want the bacon, ask them to take it off…or give it to me” You said with a mischievous smile and a playful wink in his direction. Sam chuckled as he gently shook his head.

“I think I’ll try but just because you were convincing” He said. You put a hand to your heart and straightened your spine, filling your lungs with air as would someone who was — sarcastically — proud of themselves.

“I have awesome taste, you won’t regret it Sammy” You teased with the nickname on purpose but Sam didn’t care. It was odd that the only person he somewhat enjoyed calling him that was you. Sam didn’t have many nicknames — Moose didn’t count — so you feeling comfortable enough to call him by any kind of affectionate or teasing name showed him that you were comfortable around him and that felt greater than ever. He knew that if he asked you to seriously stop calling him ‘Sammy’ you would stop, you never made him feel uncomfortable or ignored in any way, you would listen to him.

—

You and Sam were still eating when Dean said he needed to go to the bathroom, after he inhaled his hamburger as if it was nothing. Sam was looking through some stuff on his computer, probably looking for suspicious news that gave away the interference of a supernatural being. You noticed he seemed off, biting the inside of his cheeks constantly, his eyebrows furrowed for minutes on end and you could hear his foot bouncing anxiously under the table. You put your burger down and cleaned your hands and mouth with a paper towel, analyzing Sam’s behavior a little further. Honestly, you were staring. Clearly staring.

“Do I have something in my face?” Sam said without taking his eyes away from the computer screen.

“I don’t know, but you definitely have something up your ass” You replied, raising your eyebrows provocatively. That made Sam look at you with a shocked look and that’s when you noticed he had something on his mind. On a normal day Sam would’ve laughed at you instead of giving you the stink eye. “What’s wrong?”

Sam sighed “Nothing’s wrong”

“Bullshit”

“What do you know?” Sam seemingly snapped and you shut your mouth for a couple seconds.

“You” You said, playing with one of the fries on your plate, not looking at him anymore. You took Sam’s silence as a hint for you to continue “I know you, and I sense that something’s wrong. C’mon Sam we’ve been friends for years, do you really think I don’t see it when you’re not fine? If you don’t want to talk about it that’s fine but don’t belittle me like that” The conversation seemed to end there as you went back to eating your burger. Sam was still looking at you, his finger tapping the table. He let out a long sigh and pinched the bridge of his nose. Friends. That was exactly what was wrong.

“Okay, I’m sorry, it’s just– I’ve been stressing over the last case…” (lie) “...And it’s bothering me how long it took us to solve it…” (complete lie, Sam was in love with you and absolutely jealous of his brother) “...But otherwise I’m fine, I didn’t want to snap like that” (well, there’s the first truth of that sentence). Sam was wondering if you would believe him, you could read him well and if you really looked into it you would be able to see he wasn’t being truthful.

You swallowed the single bite you took of the burger and untensed your shoulders, letting down your defensiveness. “Sam…” You gently called, putting down your food. You cleaned your hands and fingers on a paper towel, wiping away the grease off of them and placed one of your hands over Sam’s fidgeting one on the table. Sam froze. “...You’re too hard on yourself. C’mon, we were able to find and burn that ghost with only the death that you saw on the paper that led us to finding the case, nobody else died, we are all okay and that spirit is now free.” You gave his unmoving hand a gentle squeeze then patted it twice, letting it go. “Don’t stress over it”

People tend to say that, for those who are in love, anything that their loved one does makes them feel euphoric, or feel it a hundred times stronger, deeper. Sam’s heart ringing in his ears showed that this was, in fact, very true. It was stupid, love was really a sickness that ate you from the inside out.

He felt bad for lying to you because he knew you’d always try your best to help him through anything, he could count on you with his life but there was no way he was admitting to you that he was upset because you decided to sit beside Dean at the diner table instead of him. Or because you directed more of your smiles to his brother, that you brushed your hand against his shoulder while you laughed at his jokes, or maybe because Dean always spoke to you in a flirty manner — like he would to a bartender or waitress he wanted to take back to his motel room — and you egged him on, flirting back. Sam would always ignore it because one, you weren’t even his, two, you knew Dean for longer and three, neither you nor his brother knew about his crush on you. To sum it up, if Dean really wanted to try anything with you, Sam had no right to stop him — but he could still be silently angry about it.

And that’s what he was doing. Dean was back from the bathroom and sat beside you again, reaching his hand to steal one of your fries from your plate. Much like Dean, you were overprotective of your food so you almost instantly dragged your plate away from him and pushed him through his chest to stay far from you.

“Hey! You already ate a whole entire burger and fries!” You argued.

“Oh c’mon Sweetheart-” Stop calling her that “-just one fry, please” Dean begged like a child and you shook your head.

“No, stop that, I’m hungry” You firmly replied and, even though he had a frown on his face, Dean backed off with a laugh.

“Alright but I’ll make you pay for this later” He said wiggling his eyebrows, a mischievous smirk on his lips, his words dripping innuendo. You looked at him, already used to his constant dirtiness.

“Mhm, come right on sweetie” You replied, the double meaning in your words as clear as day. Sam could puke. Actually, he would if he stayed there for another minute.

“You guys are disgusting, I’m going to the car” Sam said, closing his laptop and getting up from the booth as quickly as he could, not even looking back as he pushed the glass door of the diner to get out, the bells above it ringing loudly.

You looked at him through the window as he walked to the Impala in long, angry strides. You turned to face Dean with furrowed eyebrows and clear confusion on your face as you could faintly hear the passenger door of Baby being aggressively slammed. Dean looked just as confused and slightly bitter since he saw the way his car shook with the strength his brother just applied on the old door.

“Was it something I said?” You asked Dean, your eyes still looking in the overall direction of where the Impala was parked. You went through your past conversation, it was nothing out of the ordinary, this was usually the setting of when you three were together, Sam focused on something else while you and Dean talked or joked with each other, it was never an issue and, if it was, it was never voiced as one before.

Dean sighed “He’s probably just having one of his temper tantrums, he’ll be back to normal in a few hours”

You hummed unconvinced but didn’t press the issue further. After you finished eating and paid the bill, you left the diner with Dean by your side and Sam was staring out the passenger window at the both of you with that sinking feeling in his gut again. He was biting his nails — a habit he tried for years to overcome but never succeeded — and his knee bounced up and down as if he was trying to drain all his anger through the bottom of his feet (it wasn’t working).

Though muffled through the closed window of the Impala, he could hear your sweet laugh as you approached the backdoor, probably directed at a stupid commentary or joke his brother made. He sighed just as you opened the door and sat down right behind him.

“Okay, I surrender, Ramble On is definitely much superior to The Rain Song, happy now Winchester?”

“Not when you don’t sound sincere about it! It is much better” Dean replied and Sam’s eyes accompanied his movements as he sat on the driver’s seat and started the car.

This is what Sam disliked the most, you had so much in common with Dean it made him sick. From music taste to food you were almost the same and he hated it. Of course that compared to his brother you had your particularities, and it’s not like you hadn’t gotten some mannerisms from Sam himself but when you put them on a scale of comparison, guess who won.

“Yeah, yeah, I agree” You sarcastically said but a smile was on your face, one that Sam saw shining through the rearview mirror. The same way he saw your eyes darting to his through said reflection.

You placed a hand over the one from which he was biting his nails to make him stop. Sam turned to you — a weird sideways position that kind of hurt his back — and you leaned towards the front seat, closer to him.

“Stop” You demanded, looking straight into his eyes. Sam had this expression of a kid that got caught doing something wrong and you saw his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed. You nodded at him, as if to ask if he understood and Sam nodded back, making you smile sweetly at him, retreating back to your seat.

–

Okay, what the fuck.

Right now, you were back at the bunker and Dean had gone to isolate himself in his cave since you guys didn’t have anything to do, nothing to hunt, nothing to kill, not even chores to do because you ate out, so no dishes were dirty — a rare occurrence — and you were sitting across from Sam, staring at him, trying to read his mind about what was going on.

He told you he was fine but the way he was treating you told you otherwise. Ever since he stormed off from the diner he was short and dry with you, something that never happened, not even when you did something stupid during a hunt and he got mad at you for it. Usually in those times he scolded you, yelled at you and spoke his mind.

Of course Sam shutting out wasn’t something you were foreign to, he did it quite often and it was one of his behaviors you always tried to work your way around because you knew how hard it could be to talk about your own problems without feeling extremely vulnerable. And Sam Winchester hated being vulnerable. He hated having to rely on others or speaking up about how he was feeling and you understood that, he had to be strong and independent or whatever his sick father put in his mind that he had to be. But, even though you understood, you wouldn’t take shit from Sam Winchester.

You looked at him one more time, he was biting his nails again. You sighed and got up from your chair, circling around the table until you stood right beside him, who still didn’t look at you, so you decided to take drastic measures. You grabbed his cheeks, turned his face to you and pretended to analyse the patient, putting the back of your hand on his forehead, looking into his eyes to see if the pupils were blown out or not…Sam was in shock, his eyes were wide and he was paralysed. When you started to try and pry open his mouth he gripped both your wrists to make you stop.

“What are you doing?” He asked.

“Trying to figure out what’s wrong with you” You replied and Sam closed his eyes, sighing.

“I already told you that–”

“And I don’t believe you, Sam” You interrupted, a scowl on your face “What is it, huh? Are you under some spell? Did you eat something that made your stomach upset? Did you get cockblocked last–”

“No, no! Stop it! It’s nothing like that–  God why are you like this?” Sam said, looking down slightly, his hair partially covering his face. Your wrists were still grasped in his hands, his rough hands contrasting with the gentleness in which he held them. His thumb caressed your skin unconsciously.

“Oh so I am the problem? What did I do Sam?” You rose your defenses, his words making you feel partially upset, partially angry. You hated making Sam sad or mad and you especially hated when he didn’t say anything about it to you.

“Why do you keep flirting with Dean like that, huh? Why do you laugh so much at his jokes?” He asks, getting up from his chair and staring down at you. “And in front of me too? Don’t you know how that makes me feel? Seeing you all over Dean and him all over you while I just stare from the sidelines?!” He snaps, letting go of your wrists, yet, you’re too stunned to even move. His breathing is quicker after his rant and yours just stopped in pure shock, was Sam–

“Jealous? You’re…jealous?” You asked, almost whispering. Sam opened his mouth as if to say something but nothing came out besides a sigh. He pinched the bridge of his nose, realizing just how stupid this sounded when he said it out loud and he wanted to dig a hole on the ground — his grave.

“I’m not– I mean– I just–” He tried to make something up when he heard a low giggle, his eyes closing in on your hand over your mouth as you stifled a laugh behind it. Sam’s face felt warm suddenly and he avoided booking at you entirely for a moment.

“Oh, Sam…” You said, residue of laughter still on your words as you shook your head.

“Look, I’m sorry, I know this is weird and we are just friends so let’s just forget about it and–”

“Hey, hey, slow down pretty boy, who said I wanted to forget it?” You stopped him, one of your eyebrows raising as he turned to look at you, a confused expression adorning his features.

“What?”

You reached your arms to wrap around his neck, pulling him down slightly, his back curving. Your faces were inches from each other, which made him hold his breath. 

“Who says I don’t like you either Sammy?” You whisper, your minty breath invading his lungs, intoxicating his whole being with the smell of you, so close, so kissable, so beautiful. He didn’t know what to do besides hesitantly put his hands over your waist and squeeze lightly, to make sure you’re there, to make sure he’s not dreaming…he doesn’t know but he wanted to make sure of something.

“Do you?” He whispers back, his eyes looking down at your lips then at your eyes again. You smiled and kissed the corner of his mouth, just a tiny peck, and pulled back again.

“Do I?” You asked, faking confusion and Sam mumbled something intelligible as he pulled you in again for a proper kiss, one of his hands crawling up your back and holding the back of your neck gently. He pulls back for a second and looks at you to guarantee you’re fine with this but you pull him back to your mouth again before he can ask anything.

His tongue teases your bottom lip and you happily let him in, a groan escaping his throat. He tastes the hint of toothpaste in your mouth and he feels in heaven — when he dies, he wants this exact moment to be his heaven, he'll make Castiel convince someone of this. All the worries, all the anxiety, all the jealousy went away because you were his. The thought made goosebumps spread over his skin.

Sam put his hands behind your thighs and propped you up on the table.

“You don’t know how long…” He breathed out, his hands roaming over your body like you were some fragile sculpture. “How much…I dreamed of this, of you.”

You gave him a peck. “Make your dreams come true Sam, I’m right here, I’m yours”

[hrrtshape]

foods i ate in my better cr that now haunt my waking hours.

i have returned from the other side. the gilded penthouse doors have shut, the streets of new york have blurred into the mirage of memory, and yet......i am afflicted. by longing. by hunger. by the ghosts of meals past. my taste buds have been irreversibly colonised by another reality’s superior gastronomy, and now, in this lesser plane, i am left to rot, salivating over what i once had. let’s discuss.

　　　　　　　　　　　  ⊹　 ︶︶　 ୨୧　 ︶︶　 ⊹

　[ i , ] that one bagel that was a religious experience :  i’m talking about the perfect bagel. a bagel so transcendent, it made me believe in fate. it had the perfect chew, the kind that fights back just a little before yielding to divine softness. a smear of scallion cream cheese, the exact right saltiness, balancing that toasty, malty warmth of the bread. try finding that exact bite in this reality....impossible. i am forever chasing the ghost of that bagel.

　[ ii , ] the $24 salad that ruined all other salads for me :  new york, in any reality, is an absolute menace for making you pay obscene amounts of money for food that, logically, should be cheap. and yet, this overpriced, greens-based epiphany had no right being so good. it had the perfect ratio of crunch to creaminess, crisp little gem lettuce, buttery avocado (in this reality i for some reason...liked avocados??? came as a surprise!), these impossibly thin radish slices that made me feel like i was eating couture. the dressing..... i don’t even know what was in it. it tasted like wealth, people. it tasted like i had stocks in something lucrative. now every salad i eat in this reality may as well taste like sorrow.

　[ iii , ] the pasta that might have been a love letter :  there was this tiny restaurant, candle-lit, the kind of place that only seats like 10 people at a time, where i ate the most immaculate cacio e pepe of my life. it was poetry in pasta form. each strand coated in a glossy, peppery, pecorino-laced sauce that clung to it with the devotion of a lover. the pasta itself was handmade. you could taste the craftsmanship. it made me want to sit down with the chef and ask what great tragedy in their life had led them to perfect this dish with such aching precision. because surely, no one cooks like that unless they’ve known longing.

　[ iv , ] the coffee that altered my brain chemistry :  i had a latte so good, i saw colours. it wasn’t just coffee. it was a sensory event. the milk was frothed to the exact texture of a daydream, the espresso was rich but not bitter, caramel-like but not sweet. it was served in a heavy, warm ceramic cup, the kind that makes you want to wrap both hands around it and tell someone your deepest secrets. it made me feel like a person who writes letters on expensive stationery. it made me feel like my skin was clear, like i had purpose. now....i drink coffee and feel nothing.

　[ v , ] the slice of pizza that was more than pizza :  new york pizza is a spiritual entity. the slice i had wasn’t just food. it was a promise. the crust had that perfect crisp-but-chewy balance, the cheese melted in strands of longing, the sauce tangy and bright in a way that could cure seasonal depression. i folded it, i took a bite, and for a moment, i understood the meaning of life. even with lily moaning next to me about how good it was. in this reality, i put frozen pizza in the oven and am met only with disappointment.

 　　　　　　　　　 ‧　　 ₊　　˚　　 ⋅

i could go on..... i should go on. but the pain is too great. these meals have marked me forever, and now i am left to mourn them, to wander this reality’s restaurants like a forlorn ghost searching for something i will never find. if anyone needs me, i’ll be in the kitchen, staring at a sad, lesser bagel, wondering what could have been.

　until my next shift. 　　emma........

[vrystalius]

hi! Ive been reading ur fics for a while and i love them sm and hope ur enjoying ur break!

I was wondering if u could write about giyuu apologizing after an arguement?

once again i absolutely love ur fics lol 💗

Apologies

Giyuu apologising after an argument— how does he do it?

Pairing: married!Giyuu x gn!married!reader

“Why can’t you just talk to me? I feel like I’m the only one trying here!”

You immediately regretted those words the second they left your mouth. Washing out your mouth with soap won’t wash that expression of your husband from your face, him staring at you in both disbelief and deep guilt. Giyuu knows that he can come off as cold or even uncaring, even to you. It’s never intentional but rather a terrible habit he seemingly can’t get rid off and it keeps forcing him to push people away from him. That’s why it may seem he doesn’t try hard enough to express his thoughts, his feelings.

Despite knowing that you will be understanding and listen to his worries, hold him while you kiss his face until he finally smiles again, all those fears and thoughts that dwell on horrific events he experiences on a daily gone in mere seconds.

So, who should apologise first? Giyuu, or you?

Since your husband left your house after the argument, probably wanting to take a walk or get some fresh air, you had time to think about what to do to apologise to him. Directly talking to him might scare him off and result into him being too intimidated to answer or scurry off to hide somewhere else to avoid you altogether. A letter could work, right?

Composing and thinking about every word, every sentence helped you sort your thoughts out and properly speak about the argument from your perspective while also staying respectful to his own view of the issues. You just hoped that your crow was awake to deliver a letter to your husband. If not, you’ll leave it in your bedroom for your husband to find and read quietly while you waited on him somewhere else.

But before you could prepare a method for Giyuu receiving your letter, Kanzaburo, your husband’s elderly crow, weakly called out to you and ruffled his feathers while resting on your windowsill. A letter was secured around his neck. Gently, you took the bird and put it to rest on your lap, giving him well-deserved scratches while gently unravelling the letter from his neck. It was written by Giyuu, obviously, but before you could read, the door to the room opened and your husband stood in the doorframe, staring down at you in surprise. He eyed you, then the letter in your hands.

“Have you.. read it?”

“No, Kanzaburo just delivered it.”

“Ah.”

You could see the gears shifting inside his mind. He probably overestimated the senior crow and thought the letter would be delivered faster. You scratched the crows head and glanced back to the paper in your hand.

“Should I read it? Or do you want to say everything you wrote down to me personally?”

Giyuu silently averted his eyes, his shoulders sagging and a small frown spreading on his face. He was avoiding to look into your eyes.

“No. I’ll be in the bedroom.”

You watched your husband slowly close the door, leaving you alone with his elder companion. While the crow was contently preparing to nap on your lap, you opened the letter.

˚✧₊⁎⁺˳༚

My dearest,

I am sorry. I know I’ve caused arguments again and again because of my silence and my behaviour over all. You feel like you’re the only one trying in this relationship and I’m sorry for that. I thought that if I stayed silent it would be easier for the both of us but that is clearly not the case. I should’ve realised much sooner, but instead I am only doing it now.

I am just too scared to scare you off with my problems and issues since you have your own, just like everyone else does. You are important to me so you always are my priority. My thoughts and feelings can wait, so I stay quiet.

You deserve better than the way I am treating you, you deserve so, so much better. You’ve been patient with me, you stayed with me for so long, through good and bad times. I don’t deserve your love.

I want to do better and I will. Please have a little more patience with me. Please.

I love you, I am sorry that I haven’t said it enough times. I am sorry if you don’t believe me.

Yours forever,

Tomioka Giyuu.

˚✧₊⁎⁺˳༚

💠

Thank you so much for requesting!! I’ve been seeing you interact with my posts pretty often so thank you for all your love and support <33 I’ll happily write more requests for you in the future if you liked this one!

Also, I haven’t forgot about Kyojuro’s thighs request :,) I started writing it and it’s halfway finished— my NSFW meter just ran out and I started writing this instead XD

Anyways, make sure to EAT, SLEEP and DRINK enough!!

Take care of yourselves, physically and mentally <3

[newttxt]

hi quip! i really like your one piece comics and i am curious how you do them! i'm not good at comics and want to be better at drawing them! how do you learn how to make comics?

thank you!

uh oh... im afraid u have caught me at the perfect crossroad of "bored at work" and "unrelated task ive been meaning to do but keep putting off."

this is long. i hope you like reading (and grayscale progress pics). and of course!!! disclaimer before we begin that this is just how I, personally draw comics. there is no "right way."

quip's comic-making process!

Switching my typing to make this more legible...

My process can kinda be broken down into 6 steps:

Brainstorming

Thumbnailing

Sketching

Panels & Text

Lines

Tones/Colors

1. Brainstorming

My brain is a leaky sieve on a good day, so I sloppily jot down ideas in my phone notes the moment I have them. This helps me when it's time to draw too, because if I feel art blocked, I can look through old concepts and see what catches my interest.

Otherwise, I love drawing for other people's writing. :) And if worst comes to worst, doing manga/comic page redraws in my style teaches me new things every time.

Once I have my idea, I'll usually make a bulletpoint list of "plot points" or "story beats" I want. Then I plan the comic with this format that I've adapted from a tutorial I read once. I'm going to use my most recent comic (original comic post) as an example.

I start in the third column, writing notes of what I'd want to see in each panel. I also include the dialogue (in this case, I didn't have to write the dialogue! it's from the fanfic linked in the original comic post!). I usually write the whole name like [Luffy:], but at this point I've drawn so much of these guys, just the first letter works.

I like to handwrite these notes to get an idea for how much text I'm putting in a single panel.

After I describe all the panels, I go back and separate them into pages. I can't tell you how to know how many panels to a page. It's whatever works for you. I just kinda know about how big each panel will be, and so I can feel when I'm probably running out of space. (Also. You can change things later. I don't in this example, but I add/drop pages/panels all the time.)

2. Thumbnailing

Thumbnailing—as the name suggests—should be done tiny. Too tiny to accidentally get sucked into details.

This is about marking down blobs where items/characters go, and figuring out the paneling. I'll draw and redraw these a bunch of times too.

This is also the most time-consuming/brain-working part for me. If I were in a zine that did progress percentage, I'd try to finish thumbnailing around the 50% mark (but I'm also a moderately fast artist, so your mileage may vary).

I think the terrible quality makes them charming, actually. I really like how silly they look. :')))

I will add, when you draw your "page" rectangle, make sure it's the same proportions as your actual canvas for the final image. You want an accurate idea of how much space each panel will take up, especially if you have a lot of text.

3. Sketching

This is my most recent change to my usual workflow, and it's saving me a lot of time. I make my thumbnails a bit bigger (each one about half the size of the final canvas), and I sketch these basic body forms right over them.

It just helps give me placement for my actual lines!

I usually draw these in a paleish color so I can lower the opacity and not get distracted by them while lining. The random darker parts are to either help keep two forms separate (like when two characters have their limbs all over) or to better define sections that were too sloppy/poorly proportioned.

I also think this helps my poses stay looser, because I have more dramatic/wriggly shapes that aren't too bogged down by proportions yet.

Sidenote: I CANNOT show this here, but sometimes this is when I take videos. Of myself. I prop my phone camera up and shoot a video of me acting each panel. :/// It looks really dumb, but it also shows me fun body language ideas like hand gestures, expressions, weight distribution, etc. Just pretend you're an overdramatic cartoon character, and try not to worry about your roommates or mother walking in on you doing odd things. (You can also use the video for anatomy reference later, but I usually just capture the vibe and don't try to copy the actual video frame.)

4. Panels & Text

Oh, boy. So, the panels are usually just straight lines (though it's fun to make creative exceptions, like a round panel to mimic looking through a spyglass), but there are some fancy rules that I don't strictly adhere to.

I believe (I have no technical training in this. Take everything I say with a grain of salt) the vertical gaps (between two side-by-side panels) should all be a consistent width and the horizontal gaps (between two panels on top of each other) should be another. The vertical ones? Should be thinner? Because you want the eye to easily glide between them, whereas the horizontal gaps should be a visual barrier to keep you from jumping ahead. Just something I've vaguely noticed.

There are lots of fun "default layouts" you can look up. Or keep it a consistent grid. I think it's fun to sometimes have characters/objects sticking out of panels and overlapping others. This is just a matter of taste, creativity, and inspiration. (Read Witch Hat Atelier... It has some of my favorite paneling...)

You may also notice I have already done the speech bubbles. This is, to me, a crucial step. This helps me catch early if I don't have enough room for all the words. It also lets me plan the art in each panel with the speech bubbles in mind. There's nothing worse than working really hard on a panel, and then you realize there's no room for the bubbles.

I also try to lay them out in a way that guides the eye! Even without art, can people tell where to go next? Better yet, if I want people to look at panels out of order (aka not left to right, in my case), can I use the speech bubble path to make them? Here's just a vague example of what I mean.

As an added bonus, doing speech bubbles early also allows me to be lazy! :) Ignore the comic; I'm not supposed to post it yet oops,, There's a whole lot of drawing to do on each comic page, and I am not wasting my time on stuff that will be covered up. So yes, if I hide my bubbles, there are a lot of unfinished lines trailing off into nothing. (As a bonus, if there's a part of a character you're struggling with—and it won't look weird to do so—you can move speech bubbles to just hide the problem area yayyy)

Making the actual bubbles could be their own whole tutorial, tbh, but there are some general guidelines I use.

Zoom out when you choose your font size. You want to know how it will look to the average reader, so it isn't super teeny tiny or way too big. You generally want to keep the same text size for all your pages/bubbles.

When I draw bubbles, I try to size them about one vertical letter height (and some change) around the words [left side]. This isn't always the case though, because humorously large or funny shaped text bubbles can convey different feelings [right side].

On Procreate, I set my bubble lines to Reference and just drag-and-drop the white fill on a separate layer below the lines. (Remember to turn Reference back off again when you're done, or your fill bucket won't work right when you're drawing.)

To get the white outlines I use to keep the bubbles from cluttering up the art, I literally just Gaussian blur an all-white copy of the lines + fills... and then I copy and merge it 5 times until it's opaque enough. This is a terrible way to do it, but it works for me. :')

5. Lines

This is the part that I can't tell you how to do. I literally just. Draw right over my wacky sketched body forms. Boom. Comic drawn.

I'll make three suggestions:

Don't focus on making every panel perfect. Give a little extra love to big ones or ones you want people to linger on. Otherwise, know that people are typically speeding through the art. It's way more important to focus on storytelling than art technique. In my opinion, a good story that's told well will always be better than a beautiful one told poorly. (Some comics are beautiful AND well-written... Alas, I am just a hobbyist who needs to get the ideas out of my head at top speed.)

Put your background lines on a different layer. Put your foreground lines on a different layer too, if you have those. Basically, I try to keep the main part of each panel (usually a character or object) on my lines layer so I can erase background/foreground/etc lines to ensure clarity/focus.

You can make background lines lighter colors too. I have too many numbers sorry. (1) Background. The stuff that's farthest away. Lightest lines. Few details; more focused on shapes and the suggestion of a background (I'm not good at backgrounds). (2) Midground. Same distance away as the characters are. Lines can be black. (3) Also midground, and also the same distance away. But they're very detailed, so I lighten them so they aren't so distracting. (4) The characters. Black lines for focus. For people who haven't seen the comic, I swear they are just hugging. This is SFW. D:

6. Tones/Colors

Do not. Do NOT ask me. I don't understand colors. I hate working with them, but I try because I want to improve. I hate doing anything beyond the simplest grayscale shading. Please go elsewhere for your coloring/tone advice. This is how my color picker looks 95% of the time. I have pre-set "percentages" of black that I got by lowering the opacity of a black layer and just color picking it. I don't even know the exact percentages I used. Good luck out there. Be better than me.

7. Sharing

This is a bonus step that I didn't mention earlier, but it's actually the most important of all of them.

You need a friend. Or maybe a groupchat or discord. A family member or coworker if you're really close like that. I don't know.

Find SOMEWHERE you can spam wips and be cheered on. Drawing comics takes a while, especially if you're trying to tell longer stories than I'd dare to attempt. If I don't force someone to praise me for every line I draw, I shrivel up and die.

Also if and when you post online, add alt text. I'll admit I'm the first person to complain and drag my feet on this, and I literally use a screenreader myself when my eyes hurt (strong prescription glasses wearer). Comics should be accessible, because stories are fun and everyone should be able to enjoy them.

***

Learning???

And I guess lastly, how do you learn to make comics? Two steps: 1) read them and 2) make them. This is the tragedy of creating things.

1) Reading them: I grew up reading comic strips, western serialized comics, and webcomics. I've always loved graphic novels too. Then in late middle school, I started reading manga (Death Note and Haikyuu were my first two), and now I'm trying to read more webtoons (sorry im so slow bree)!

I also... mass-consume doujinshi, thanks to proxy mailing services and bilingual friends/Google Translate/knowing some Korean. (I have an entire bookshelf of doujin, actually,,)

The thing is, it's not usually enough to just read comics. You also need to be thinking. :/ I notice paneling, comic devices, clever comedic timing, etc. as I go. It's just a lot of studying/learning while also enjoying the story.

2) Making them: You just have to start. :( Even if you think they're "bad." My first comics were actually just drawings placed randomly all over the page, connected by speech bubbles (yay... I was already practicing how to place bubbles to lead the eye around the page...). I was going to post a pic here, but I'm a coward. Backscroll my account and you can find some older ones though.

I also know my art in general improved dramatically when I did ten comics in ten weeks for my friend's fic. Don't do this. It hurt my hands/wrists. But do practice in moderation.

***

If you actually read all that... I hope it made even a modicum of sense. And maybe it was even helpful? Just know at the end of the day, there is literally no right way to draw a comic.

And if you aren't ready to go for it yet, you can start by just adding a couple speech bubbles to your illustrations or doodles! It's a way to add storytelling and dialogue writing to things you may already be making.

Yay. I love comics. :))))

[voidangxls]

ˋ°•*⁀➷ Secret Admirer pt:2 ʚ♡ɞ

╰┈➤ a part of my valentines special!

pairings(s)- JJ Maybank x reader

Summary- Your secret admirer is still going, it was just days before Valentine’s Day and you needed to know who the person is behind these anonymous letters.

category- fluff

warnings- timeline is before s1, use of y/n, pining, not proofread

word count: 2381

masterlist; valentines special; obx masterlist

- part 1

-----------------------------

It had been a couple of days and it was still going on. Every morning when you would open your locker you would be met with an envelope. It has been a few days since the first one you received but each one was just as sweet as the last, if not sweeter.

With your shoes hitting the ground, you walk the path from the school doors to your locker. Opening your locker you were met with the expecting presence of a white envelope falling out and at your feet, yet this time there were flowers attached.

You reach down and grasp the envelope between your fingers. This time it was a plain white envelope with a couple of hand picked flowers attached to the seal by tape. A smile graces your face, this was the first time flowers have been attached.

Just like always you look around the hall around you, seeing if you could spot your secret admirer. Looking around you see someone quickly turn their body around so their back would be facing you. With confusion etched on your face your eyebrows furrow and examine him.

JJ Maybank

Thats who you were looking at right now, you could tell just by the back of him. Surely he wasn’t your secret admirer, right? No, JJ Maybank is the ladies man of Outer Banks, no way in hell would he ever do something romantic like this, especially keeping it up for this long. You push the thought of JJ to the back of your mind and face your locker, gently pulling the flowers off.

Once you had pulled the flowers off of the envelope, the tape pulling with it. You tape the flowers onto the inside door of your locker and proceed with opening the note.

‘I use to say my favorite thing to look at was the sunset, but I take that back. It’s definitely you. I hope you liked the flowers, don’t have money for real ones right now. Hopefully one day I will grow the balls to actually talk to you princess, I could actually do something about these crazy feelings’

- secret boy :)

You bite your lip and look down at the note in your hands, unable to contain your smile. Tomorrow was Valentine’s day and honestly you were scared these notes would end when the holiday passes, you looked forward to them and they were the best part of your day, you hoped they wouldn’t end. But truthfully you just wanted to know who it was behind all of this.

Tucking the letter into your backpack you then head to class, smile unable to be wiped from your face.

Just like every day before today since you have been getting the notes you looked around and inspected your classrooms, trying your best to figure out who your secret admirer is. You have yet to concoct something, you had absolutely no idea who the one writing these notes are.

JJ’s pov:

I was sitting at one of the many lunch tables in the cafeteria. The only reason I ever stuck around this long for a school day was either A. because Pope and Kiara made me or recently B. Y/n.

If I was being quite honest, I don’t know how she hasn’t picked up on the fact the love letters are me. I feel like Ive been very noticeable with my ogling, unless she was ignoring it. Maybe she knew it was me but was ignoring the fact that it was, what if she’s disappointed that i’m the one sending her letters? what if shes disgusted by me? But she smiles at the notes every morning. I don’t know but i’m kinda stressed and honestly quite frankly pretty very down bad.

My thoughts were cut off by the sound of Pope’s voice “dude, what are you thinking about?” he asks, directed towards JJ. The boy in question jumps slightly in his seat and looks over at Pope. “Jeez! nothing, I’m not thinkin bout nothin.” he tries to defend himself, looking down at his tray

“your future wife just walked in” John B cuts in, nudging his head in the direction of his eyes before Pope could get another word out.

JJ quickly turns around, looking in the direction John B’s eyes are looking. When he does he was met with your beautiful self walking through the lunchroom doors and taking a seat at one of the many tables, somewhat close to the table he was currently sat at.

“funny how you knew exactly who he was talking about” Pope leans forward onto the table, looking at JJ with a mocking smile.

JJ goes to rebuttal but is cut off by a groan. “you still haven’t talked to her?” Kiara asks in annoyance, looking towards the blonde boy with slight confusion. JJ never had a problem with girls, never had a problem approaching them either, you were different.

Once again the blonde boy goes to defend himself but this time John B speaks up before him “He’s too pussy” he teases, looking strictly at JJ

“I am not” he scoffs defensively

“oh really?” Kiara dryly responds

“yeah right” Pope scoffs a slight laugh, looking down at his food and beginning to eat.

“then go do it” John B says, leaning onto the table with a smirk while looking at JJ

“what?” JJ repeats, confused

“if you’re not to scared, go talk to her” John B shrugs

JJ takes a deep breath and looks between all of his friends expecting expressions one by one. “I cant do it” he groans and after his words so do all of his friends

“Dude” John B and Pope complain in unison

“pussy” Kiara coughs

Back to 3rd person pov:

It was lunchtime and you were sitting down at one of the lunch tables with a couple of your friends, unknowingly not that far from your secret admirers table where he sat with his friends.

Time was going by and conversation with your friends hadn’t lessened, you just weren’t completely locked it. You couldn’t help but zone out every now and then. During one of your zone outs you feel the presence of eyes on you, you look around and spot JJ Maybanks blue eyes staring at you a couple of tables away, his body turned to the side so he could look at you.

He flashes you a quick smile but before you had the chance to return it he was already turning back around and looking towards his friends. You then noticed all of his friends look at you once he was turned around

weird

Your eyebrows furrow, he seemed nervous. Why would JJ Maybank be nervous? You then move your eyes away from him and back to your friends, trying to focus in on their conversation.

It was now the last class of the day and you were annoyed just like the multiple days before, you still had no clue who it was sending you the love letters and at this point you didn’t think you ever would. You look around the classroom and see once again JJ Maybank, this time he wasn’t looking at you, he was looking down at his hands. You’re confused but you continue to watch him, he was looking down at one of his hands while the other picked at it.

The bell then rung, causing you to jump from your seat slightly and Maybank looks up quickly.

You quickly got up from your seat and walked towards him. When you got to his desk he was standing up and looking putting his notebook back into his back. “hi” you speak up from next to him

JJ quickly turns to you in shock, his eyes wide and his body freezing. “what?” he utters. A smile creeps onto your face and you repeat yourself “I said Hi”

“oh, oh right Hey” JJ says, leaning onto the desk with his hands but quickly taking them off with a slight almost unnoticeable hiss. You look down at his hands in confusion.

“can I see?” you ask gently, reaching your hands out for his

The boys face is still the same as when he first turned to you, he tilts his head at your words and look down at you in shock. “my hands?” he utters, you nod with a slight upturn of your lips. He puts his hands into yours gently, seemingly nervous.

You pull his hands up closer to your face, palm up and inspect them. When you looked closely at his hands you could see a couple of thorns in them. Thorns? like flowers, you received flowers this morning, could it really be JJ who was behind the letters? You look up at him with a smile “I got tweezers in my car, I can help you” you suggest.

JJ is looking down at you in shock and after a moment he breaks out of his trance, a smile forming on his face. “lead the way princess” he says, his hands pulling away from yours. It was definitely him. He grabs his bag and follows you out to your car. What neither of you knew was that the pogues had been watching the interaction with smirks and smiles on their faces, all of them happy their boy finally got to talk to you, even if he didn’t make the first move.

The two of you arrive at your car, you getting into your drivers seat and him sitting in your passenger seat. Once your tweezers are in your hand you pull his hand closer to you, resting on the console between the two of you. Your thumb was gently rubbing the inside of his wrist while you pluck the thorns from his skin. “thank you” JJ speaks up softly.

You look up from his hands and smile at him “you’re welcome” you respond just as softly as he spoke.

Time had passed and you were now all finished plucking the thorns from his hands. You put the tweezer back into its bag in your console and look up at him “it’s you, isn’t it?” you ask him

JJ’s smile drops slightly and his eyes widen a little. “what?” he asks

“the one sending me the letters, is it you?” you repeat

He stares at you for a moment, bewildered. After the two of you just staring at each other JJ finally sighs, his shoulders dropping as well. “yeah. Yeah it’s me” He says, looking down at his lap and fiddling with his fingers.

“thank you, they’ve been making my day” you tell him and he looks up at you with his own smile. “I would love for you to take me out, like a date. If you want of course” you say

JJ sits up straighter “are you kidding? of course I want to take you on a date. Uh um Im getting paid next week if you wanna…”

You smile at him wider “I was thinking right now. You don’t have to take me on some extravagant date, it doesn’t have to involve money at all. I just want to get to know the person who has been saying these nice things about me.” you respond

JJ’s smile gets bigger if possibly and he looked at you with a smirk “well then princess, can I drive your car then?” he asks

You take a deep breath and look at him in concern, but the smile still very well on your face. “Am I going to regret this?” you ask

“never” he responds, getting out of the car. You follow his lead and step outside of the car, switching his spots so he would now be the one driving.

The drive was calm, the two of talking about your days. In your surprise JJ wasn’t a bad driver, thank god. When JJ stops the car he had pulled up at the beach. Both of you get out of the car and meet on the sand.

You guys walk along the beach together, talking about any and everything. “yknow, I meant everything I said in those notes” JJ says, hands in his pockets while he looks over at you nervously. You look over at him with a smile “Well thats good, i’m glad because it was all very sweet. My favorite part of the day honestly.” you respond

As the day went on between the two of you, you guys felt as if you have known each other for ages. It was so easy to talk to the other, you guys were laughing and you were serious and your hands would brush together when you guys walked side by side.

“thank you, this was really nice” you say softly, looking at him with a smile.

He turns to you with a wide smile “I just cant believe you made the first move and not me”

Your smile turns into a smirk as you look at him, walking in front of him and turning your body towards him so you were now talking backwards. “well you are a chicken” you remark

JJ raises his eyebrows at you “take it back” he responds

You shake your head no and suddenly break out into a sprint. JJ had begun to chase you along the beach, the two of you were in hysterics as he chased you. After a moment he finally caught you and threw you over his shoulder.

The sun was now starting to set. JJ had you over his shoulder as you laughed and told him to put you down. He walked the two of you closer to the shore as you guys laughed. The both of you sit down, your feet gently being hit by the water as you guys sit side by side and watch the sunset. His hand moves over and interlocks with yours.

Both of you turn and face each other, smile on your face unable to be wiped away. You stared at each others faces for a moment and both of you leaned in, interlocking your lips with the others in a gentle kiss beneath the sunset.

JJ couldn’t mess this up, he finally got the girl

and you finally found out who it was behind the letters. Happy Valentines to you.

a/n: This is the end of my Valentines day special!! This is my first ever writings on Tumblr ever and I would like to say i’m decently proud of everything I wrote. Thank you to everyone who liked and read anything of what I wrote. Happy Valentines!!💕

[lure-of-writing]

Done

Summary: you are done with the way Cassian treats you

word count: 2k

There you were yet again. Alone. Cassian had been doing this a lot recently. Avoiding you that is. It never used to be like this. In the past you couldn’t get him to leave you alone, he was obsessed with you. That was until your work took you to the continent for almost a year. Nine months if you were to be exact. Sure being away from the people you loved wasn’t the best situation to be in but yet you didn’t let that stop you. Often after a long day of playing in the world of politics you would return to your room to write each person of the inner circle a letter. Cassians was always the first to be written and sent out. The rest followed soon after. Since you physically could not be the night court you tried to find ways to remind those you loved that you did in fact love and miss them dearly. Oftentimes sending little items that reminded you of them. Hand made emblem for Rhys to stamp his papers with, beautiful paints that weren’t available in the night court for Feyre. So on and so forth. 

At first everything was fine but the more time you spent on the continent the less you heard from Cassian. The first thought that crossed your mind at the lack of communication from Cass was that Rhys put him to work. Giving him something to focus on other than your lack of presence. With a quick letter to the high lord you quickly found out that was not the case. He in fact was not currently tending to anything other than his recurring requirement to his court. This was strange. 

Something you had learned in your time with Cassian was that sometimes you just simply did not have enough energy to deal with another person, let alone have a conversation with them. So you slowed down the letters you were sending but never failing to remind him that you loved him and couldn’t wait to be home once more and if you were able to visit then you would. Sometimes he would acknowledge the letters you sent, sometimes he wouldn’t. If he sent a letter to you he would oftentimes  disregard what you said about missing him, simply brushing past what you said as if it held no significance. This didn’t happen right away of course, no, it was a slow and minute thing that happened over time. When he first stoped sharing your feeling of longing and want to be with the other person you didn’t mind, figuring that he was enjoying some time alone without you but by month six you were concerned, exhausted, sad and overall hurt and frustrated. This lead you to calling him out on his actions in your next letter. “What is going on? We barley talk, when I offer to come visit you say no, when I ask for you to come here instead you say no. Ive tried just about everything to see you but yet you never do the same for me. I find it quite ironic how every time I think I will have enough time to return home you suddenly are very busy, but yet when I ask Rhysand if that is the case it isn’t. You never have enough time in your days for me but you always have more then enough time to spend with your friends. You will pick literally anything and anyone else over me. Why is that? Do you not love me anymore? Am I not good enough? If you don’t feel the same or want to be in this relationship then please let me know because I can’t do this.” 

Cassian obviously talked you down from the ledge of a breakup reassuring you that he did in fact love you; he was just busy with everything happening within the inner circle especially since he was the peacekeeper between Rhysand and Nesta. Bregurgenly you accepted his answer not without reminding him that what he did was not ok and he needed to change his behavior. Immediately he agreed stating that he saw how it was a problem and needed to do better. 

But better never came. Three months had passed since that argument and almost a month more had passed since you returned home. It was mind blowing how even upon your return back to the night court Cassian never came to see you. Not once. Once again something or someone else always needed him more. With a defeated heart and building anger you accepted each of his excuses in hope that he would one day return the effort you were putting in the relationship. That day never came. Rhysand wanted to see you after your long excursion across the ocean and to a foreign land. He also needed a report from you in full but that was neither here or there. Once at the river house Rhys greeted you with a big smile and open arms, inviting you into a very much needed hug. “How are you my friend?” the question was asked as your high lord led you to his office “I’ve been better but you know how that goes.” Rhysand frowns at your answer “Continue on. What do you mean by that?” sighing you deflate in the chair across from him. “It’s Cassian. I asked him when we could see each other and he said he was busy this weekend and last but I know he was just here. I can smell him. If he was just here, why couldn’t he have stayed and finally acknowledged my existence for the first time since I’ve gotten home?” Rhys simply nodded his head in understanding sensing you had more you needed to get off of your chest. He was right about that. “And then when I asked about seeing him this weekend he said he was busy celebrating the new Valkyries. Like seriously? C’mon. You can’t spare five minutes of your day to say hi, how are you?” 

“I see why you have been better.” with another heavy sigh you nod while closing your eyes to stop the burning sensation of oncoming tears from succeeding in their mission. “Not even that but he doesn’t even talk to me anymore. I will try and try and try but it's like he couldn’t be less interested in what I have to say. If I don’t say anything first we would never talk. Gods, we don’t talk. Actually now that I think of it I can’t remember the last time we had a conversation that lasted for more then five minutes. That is when he can pencil me into his very busy schedule.” You felt Rhysands observing eyes take note of your completely exhausted appearance. And the drained feeling radiating off of you. It wasn’t from the trip. He knew that much. “Y/n my dear you need to talk to him about this.” the first sigh of your impending breakdown was your wobbling lip being pressed inbetween your teeth and the deep breath you take to stop yourself from crying. It was not successful as tears freely made their way down your cheeks. Rhysand saw it then. You were not angry, or frustrated you were simply done being treated this way. You knew what you needed to do but your heart hadn’t let you. “I have talked to him about this. All I do is talk and talk and talk.” A broken laugh makes it way out at how completely stupid you feel. “I’m done talking. He has shown me time and time again just how exactly he feels about me. You prioritize the people you love. And I am no longer a priority.” Finally opening your eyes you see those stunning violet eyes staring back. At first it felt like pity but the longer you looked the more you recognized the true emotion displayed. Empathy. Oftentimes you forgot Rhys could look into people's minds but as you felt the gentle nudge in your head asking for permission to see what had been going on you allowed it. A few moments pass as he shuffled through your memories before he finally retreated to his own mind. “Y/n my dear you don’t deserve that. You know this right.” You couldn’t find it in yourself to verbally respond to him so instead you simply nodded your head while trying to hold back the tsunami of tears fighting to be released. “I know.” you whispered 

Getting Cassian to yourself was no easy feat. The first few failed attempts resulted in getting Rhysand involved as much as you hated having to do so. But this conversation was much needed and you knew you would never feel content with your decision unless you were able to talk with the male face to face. There in that exact office where you had cried to your closest friend about your relationship being in shambles is where you now stood in front of Cassian who was silently sitting in the chair in front of you. “We should break up.” That finally got his attention. As soon as Rhysand revealed that the pretend meeting was just a ploy to get him in the same room as you, Cassian had shut down completely. Now he was staring at you with wide eyes and an open mouth. “I have tired and tired to get you to care about me and I am done trying. I am tired.” Cassian tried to speak but with the raise of your hand he was quick to close his mouth. “Everything else in your life has taken more priority in your life than me, and I am not saying that I am the most important person in your life because I am not. But I have been begging for you to give me even an ounce of your attention and you can’t even do that so I am done. I am done begging you to allow me in your life, hell to even want me in your life in the first place. I will not continue to beg and plead for you to show me you care because it is quite obvious that you don’t and that you haven’t for a very long time. This is not how you treat someone you love. I would know because I would never do the same to you.” Cassian stood abruptly closing the distance between the two of you causing you to take an equal about of steps back from him. Seeing the hurt flash in his eyes brought you a sense of disbelief. Only when you are about to walk away does he finally show interest in you again. How ironic. “Please don’t do this. Don’t leave me. I can do better, I can be better.” His whisper of words are overshadowed by the laugh falling from your lips. “That is what you have been saying for months and yet you never change. Sure you do better for like a week and then everything is back to normal. It's time to face the music, Cassian. This relationship is over. It has been for months. I was the only one putting in effort and you honestly can’t believe that I would continue to stick around when you don’t do the same. Relationships are two-sided and you know that but yet I was all alone.” 

Swiftly you move past him and his outstretched arm. Only stopping once you reach the threshold of the doors. You don’t look back as you speak “I hope you are a better partner for Nesta.” Cassian remains silent as you pull open the door. Rolling your shoulders back you stand tall as you make your way down the hallway lined with Rhysand and Azriel. Finally you had set yourself free from the person who valued you the least. Outside of the River house you took in Velaris one last time. Life on the continent was calling and you couldn’t fathom telling it no. Something in your soul had changed walking out of that room. Something no male could ever take away from you again. Happiness. And for the first time in your life you finally understood what it meant to put yourself first.

[prettygirlformula]

things i do to distract myself.

i dont usually post textposts, but i decided to do something different because, its november!!! nd we all know this months is when things go wrong and i've been struggling to practice self-care so here are some of my favourite things i like to do to remind myself i am loved, and perhaps give you all some inspo if you're in a funk too!! <3

listen to music i tend to have different playlists as i believe that the music you listen to dictates your mood. as much as i enjoy my jazz and classical, when im in a funk i need to be hype 24/7!! my go to's are usually anything future, miss stallion, glorilla, king von, tate mcrae, charli or carti. i need to listen to music that'll manifest success and confidence.

read i'll read anything really, just to keep my mind off social media BECAUSE I DO NOT WANT TO ROT MY BRAIN WHEN IM FEELING SULKY. im currently reading letters from a stoic by seneca - im learning plenty and its keeping me stay calm

body movement i love a good run, or a pilates sesh so i'll put all my anger and sadness into pushing myself to run an extra k, or that extra set. sometimes its nice to just clear ur lungs and ur mind, and it'll build my strength physically and mentally!!! plus i'll look even better so he'll regret ever ending things with me

visit the beach im a beach girl forever, the ocean has always been my best friend. a quick swim will alwayssss level me out. there's cute boutiques and my favourite açai place along the esplanade and i love walking down there during the sunset or sunrise to keep me busy.

annoy my friends i love my friends so much they're my everything!!! they bring me peace even if we're loud. there's something about surrounding yourself with positive and loving energy that i'll never get tired of, if i could i would give all my love in my body to them.

write ive always been a writer i think. i have to get everything in my mind onto paper or a document or i lose it. its nice to write in my journal about things im grateful for, things im scared about and things i want to achieve. as well as just what went on in my day - i think that now im out of high school im living a much more dramatic and different life to what i used to, so i need to process these things. also i write w a muji pen so it makes the experience so fun.

cry no matter how nonchalant i try to be, im a crier - even at the clubs (it gets embarrassing) but i find it a great way to rid my anger, sadness or stress - better out than in.

meditate ive only just started practicing this, but its very peaceful!! well duh i like to do it during sunset in the park near one of the beaches i frequent (so i can swim too hehe) and the sound of the waves, the people and life can kind of block out anything in my head!!

clean/re-organise my room organised room = organised mind!! (my dad taught me that one) but during this process i always find something that i forgot about and i get distracted, so it takes longer but i get the job #done

call my mummy my mum and i are close, shes my best friend so i tell her everything (except my tattoos and my ehem..rendevouz..) her wisdom has helped me in a lot of situations...i tend to write down the advice she gives me so i dont forget and fuck up. again :p

retail therapy maybe not the most healthy way of self-care, but it gets the job done i cannot lie!! sometimes you need to spend a little bit of money to sustain some peace in your life. you do need that glossier lip liner babe, get it, you deserve it.

ofc some of these things may not work well for you, but self-care is what makes you feel good!!! im open to new ideas of self-care so lmk what you guys do :p + thank you so much for 3 blessed years on this account, eternally grateful for everyone <3

[gt-zel]

How long have u been into G/t? When did you first start liking it

Id say maybe 4-5 years. Got really into it when i went to a friends house and got introduced to the secret world of arrietty, read a crap ton of fanfics until i saw a comment with the the letters GT and looked it up. From there it was down the rabbet hole. I started writing (my stuff is mostly on wattpad) and of corse my writing was amateurish. I would like to believe ive gotten better. Started doing a lot of art related to gt and then it was history from there.

Unfortunately right now gt and my art has lost any passion, so i just feel empty about it. I still make gt content in hopes that i can rekindle my passion for it, and also because i care about the other people in this community and want to make art to male others happy.

That was a bit long haha. I think gt has always been something special to me, even as a kid. So im a bit scared of loosing my love for it tbh.

But enough about me, how did you get into gt? Id love to hear everyone elses stories and it always makes me so happy to hear about the ways in which we can all connect through this awesome community!!

[faerghusfucker]

If you don't mind me asking then I'd like to ask 1, 2, 3, 7, 8 and 23 for Felix.

omg ive been having a felix moment recently you literally read my mind ive been wanting to yap abt him for a SECOND.

1. Why do you like or dislike this character?

i love felix so so much and it's for so many reasons but the thing that rlly took him from "hey this guy's pretty cool" to "MY DARLING SON" for me was three hopes. NOW HEAR ME OUT. i know they softened him a lot in hopes but it was for a good reason because rodrigue put the role of duke on him SUPER young (why did he do that again????) and kind of forced him to take on this super diplomatic/political role that he fully didnt want to. seeing how he changes when he's forced to suck up his feelings about dimitri and about politics and knights is so so cool to me bc like. he's literally following directly in his father's footsteps and he STILL doesn't understand him. they STILL have that rift in their relationship unless you get their (DEVASTATING) A support. any time felix has a moment of vulnerability i scream and die and cry about it for years and years and hopes gave me so much of those. especially in the paralogue where he cries abt his brother a lil bit aaaaAAAAAAAA

2. Favorite canon thing about this character?

his DESIGN. i've yapped so extensively abt felix's haircut and his character design. i need to draw him again asap bc the first time i drew him and posted him on here it was rlly ugly lol. justice for felix i hope the modern design i'm cooking makes up for him being a lil fuckass rn

3. Least favorite canon thing about this character?

i have two for this one. first one is him being friends with ingrid (this makes sense story-wise i'm just an ingrid hater). second is that in the games they don't explore his relationship with the tragedy of duscur in any explicit way as much as they do with dimitri and ingrid. i feel like in every other ingrid support she has to bring up glenn, and obviously it makes sense for dimitri and ingrid to still be grieving their best friend and fiance respectively, but glenn was felix's BROTHER and yet everyone treats ingrid like she was the most affected by his death and it pisses me offfff.

i do like the subtle indications of the effect his brother dying had on him though. i love seeing him get super upset whenever people protect him in battle (glenn joked abt being a human shield for dimitri in his one letter in hopes) and i love him being upset whenever people compare him to glenn or try to have a sibling relationship with him. also now that i'm writing this i'm realizing that it DOES make sense for someone as closed off as felix to never rlly express his grief in any specific way but. im greedy i wanna see my son upset

7. What's something the fandom does when it comes to this character that you like?

make my favorite felix ship popular lol. the sylvix tag might be the one i scroll through the most i love it so much. i eat up almost any felix ship but sylvix is my otp and just my favorite ship in the game

8. What's something the fandom does when it comes to this character that you despise?

i feel like i answer this question the same every time and it's MISCHARACTERIZE HIM. i know it's super easy to dumb felix down into the tsundere trope but he's NOT just a tsundere he's actually super cool and awesome and well written CRIES

23. Favorite picture of this character?

i actually have a few lol. i’m rlly bad at the expedition minigame in three hopes so whenever i get a perfect one i spam screenshots super hard, both out of excitement and also because having the character’s face follow the camera (and the camera not having a fisheye-like perspective warp) makes for really pretty and draw-able screenshots that also look like candids.

some examples

one of these is actually the banner for my blog lol hopes felix is my babygirl thanks for another opportunity to yap abt him. sorry if im a lil incoherent im feelin pretty sick but we ball

[asordinaryppl]

A3! Main Story: Part 4 - Act 16: Crossing Paths - Episode 1: The Final Baton Pass

Luciano: “Angelo’s a fine choice. Having a stingy partner is a pain in the ass.”

Lansky: “You’ll be fine as long as you don’t get stuck with a stubborn womanizer.”

Luciano: “Ahh? Who are you talkin’ about?”

Lansky: “No one in particular.”

Luciano: “You’re soundin’ awfully specific if you ask me.”

-

Tsumugi: …

Tsumugi: (This is the performance the Autumn Troupe has put on after receiving the baton from the Spring Troupe and Summer Troupe…)

Tsumugi: (I can feel their determination to surpass the passion of the troupes before them. It’s making my heart pound.)

Tsumugi: (This is the flaming hot baton we’re receiving from the Autumn Troupe.)

Tsumugi: (As the anchor, we will carry the baton they carried from the Spring and Summer troupes to the finish line, the best we can.)

Tsumugi: (This is our– the Winter Troupe’s duty.)

Tsumugi: (We have to– no, we want to surpass this performance that the Autumn Troupe put on as a result of breaking out of their shells. We also have to go one step further than the plays we’ve been putting on as the Winter Troupe so far…)

-

[Door knocking]

Tsuzuru: Tsukioka-san, is now a good time?

Tsumugi: Yeah, come in.

-

[Door opening]

Tsumugi: Is something wrong?

Tsuzuru: It’s about time for me to come up with a plot for the Winter Troupe’s play, so I’m going around to ask if you guys have any ideas.

Tsumugi: Unlike the other troupes, our debut performance seems like it’s a little harder to come up with a sequel to.

Tsuzuru: Right. I can’t just write about what happens after that ending… But I suppose there are lots of ways to go about it.

Tsumugi: There’s been a time when I wondered what would happen if Michael was reincarnated as a human.

Tsumugi: He’d reunite with Raphael, and I think it’d be nice if the two exchanged letters.

Tsuzuru: A reunion between Michael and Raphael… The way they were separated was pretty sad.

Tsuzuru: I think I can do something with that idea. I’ll go give it some more thought.

Tsuzuru: If you’ve got any other requests, feel free to tell me anytime.

Tsuzuru: Though, killing the actor called Tsumugi Tsukioka will be a bit difficult this time around.

Tsumugi: Haha, that’s true.

Tsumugi: But it’s exactly because I killed myself in order to perform as Lucifer that I think that…

Tsumugi: I can now return to my origins and make use of the strengths of the actor Tsumugi Tsukioka.

Tsumugi: We also have the nomination for the New Fleur Award to take into consideration this time, so we have to make sure we’ll be able to carry the baton to the finals.

Tsuzuru: Ever since we got 11th in 3Q, MANKAI Company’s been getting more attention.

Tsuzuru: I’ve gotta do my best with the script, too.

Tsumugi: That reminds me, are you working on the script for Towa-kun’s troupe?

Tsuzuru: I haven’t gotten to it yet, but I’ve been thinkin’ it’s about time I get started…

Tsumugi: Has he not gathered enough members yet?

Tsuzuru: It’s just the three of them at the moment, and they’re looking for a fourth. Towa seems to be in a hurry to find someone.

Tsumugi: I think he’s excited to act out your script. I understand how he feels.

Tsuzuru: I’d be happy if that was the case, but it seems he’s got some other deadline in mind…

-

momo has entered the chat momo: one more member has joined! one left to reach the goal! Kar: graaats Iv: good for you shiki: congrats! good luck with finding the last one! momo: it’d be nice if one of u guys would join thoughhh Kar: nahhh Iv: u just don’t give up 

-

Kureha: …

Kureha: (I often go to watch theater plays because of my father, so it’s not like I’m not interested. And putting on my own play does sound fun.)

Kureha: (Being on stage in front of an audience sounds natural for me, and I’ve even thought about going down that path too.)

Kureha: (But…)

Kureha: …

Kureha: And the idea of meeting momo in person is a little…

Kureha’s mom: Kureha, shouldn’t you be going to your job soon?

Kureha: Ah, yeah. I’m just getting ready to go.

previous episode (act 15) | masterpost | next episode

INSTE POST:

Guy-N

The Autumn Troupe's sequel was fantastic. It's a performance I'd want to watch again and again. And now, it's almost the Winter Troupe's turn. I hope you will all look forward to the day we can deliver our performance to you.

NOTES:

(1) the anchor leg is the final position in a relay race, it's typically given to the fastest and/or most experienced member of the team

[lunarle-old]

I honestly have no idea how else to explain this sooo....

I absolutely ADORE how you write tsumugi. Like especially in love letter and heaven given hell. Like she's not just torturing in a constant-beatings-and-i dunno way but like the way she does it is so MASTERMIND-Y and it fits her AND the victim soooo weeeeellll

Like the white room torture. Fucking GENIOUS.

Fits so well for someone as stubborn as kokichi, and it's ACTUALLY useful for tsumugi -like "breaking him", and not just for funsies. I dunno what I'm saying but everything she does in your fics is so tsumugi coded :3 And the way she acts around others knowing DAMN WELL what she's doing is absolutely amazing to me. She even made poor Shuichi WATCH allat In love letter?! WILD.

And technically she tortured EVERYONE in love letter- giving himiko the clicker, the two-late thingy, showing them the photo and all OH MY GOD I ABSOLUTELY LOVE IT.

She was amazing in IA and M5 (gee i STILL didnt read blue eyes shield blue lies IVE BEEN PLANNING ON IT FOR WEEKS but...school >:) too !! M5 is actually my favourite and it's tooottaaallyy not because I am a major SAW fan and will go on rambles for HOURS about how it's not just pointless gore and has a plot aaannd I'm going off topic so buh-bye !! \(>○<)/

Also the Kaito / Shuichi sleepover is melting my heart UGDHCJXJD KILL ME

djhfhehfj wuwUAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA <33

I see a lot of people compare SAW to M5. I'll trust your guys' judgment on that one because I have never seen SAW and don't plan to ;_; The fic was inspired off of Your Turn To Die and this song. Any SAW reference is completely accidental because I don't know a damn thing about it LOL

I only started really giving Tsumugi more thought during Love Letter, and now she's one of my favorite characters to write!! She's just so shapeable and,, hdhfjr :3 my evil and insane blorbo. i adore her . shes covered in blood and it is not hers

Believe it or not I don't really like writing physical beatings. Maybe it's trauma or something but I just,, don't enjoy it? (゜ロ゜) There will probably be SOME physical fighting later down the line, but overall I'm trying to stay creative ♪ also the act of punching someone is inherently funny to me

I actually wanted to do sensory deprivation/overstimulation in Love Letter, but I ... Forgot ....... and by the time i remembered it was too late :( so I'm redeeming myself here !!! I'm doing all the things I didn't get to in Love Letter! Fewer limitations baby >:D !!!!

THANK YOUUU SI MUCH THOUGH<3 THIS Means so much to me Genuinely. thank you ahgttreehehyrhrh ｡ﾟ(ﾟ´Д｀ﾟ)ﾟ｡ it's things like this i look back on when im feeling down so thankyou thank yo u ♡♡

[halestrom]

🔥 CROP TOP?

🔥 also would love to know more about the genesis of road trip (or anything about road trip, tbh, in awe of the way you crafted this story!)

xoxo molly 🪿

@tornadeoqueen

so crop top has also been asked here and here and lol thats about as much as i've got so ROADTRIP.

so, this was inspired by a conversation i was having with @nimuetheseawitch and it turned into talking about california and how much there is to see and ive been living here in 1997 and there is STILL SO MUCH? and it was just about how large it is and all the ecosystems bc socal is so different than norcan and central valley and you've got the mojave and then also the sierras and there is so much. and then randomly i started mapping it? and looking up all the different things to do and ended up with a map long before i started actually thinking more about the story.

and then it just kept being on my mind? and it would grow and change and then i started writing the first chapter and i loved it and started planning the other chapters and i knew i wanted this to be a slow fucking burn. but oh my god it is so much slower than even i imagined. i had them initially starting to date like 3 chapters ago but there is sooo much they needed to get through.

bc like. the more i write this the more i feel like im writing a love letter to hangster and california together and their relationship and i gave jake such a sad background (im all over the place with his history ngl its all good) but this one in particular bc jake had to carve out a space in the world for himself, and then you've got bradley who had a space carved out and its big but it's so empty now and the way the two of them come together.

the story is gonna end with the beginning of everything, but its their foundation. it's them building it up brick by brick so when the ugly edges of who they are clash they don't fall down because the foundation is there. its why i had to have the big blow up so far into the story bc they needed the foundation. that argument would've ruined them if they had done it in solvang or near the queen mary. they had to get closer, they had to share.

they're building their future and neither of them really believes it, not even bradley imo hes just caught up in the moment, but it's there. their future is right there with every conversation every inch they give the other and theres so much more to talk about. because jake is still hurting from his parents and he always will, and maria hurt him as well, and he is gonna take a long time before he actually believes he wont be left behind. and bradleys got so much hurt from mav, and from the deaths of his parents.

idk, theres just...so much there. each chapter is easy to write but its also so hard because there's so much to balance bc even now it still feels like it could tip the wrong way if im not careful. because it's a foundation and its more solid than anything they've had before but its still new. t

[solarswonderland]

dear hanbin

pairing: gn!reader x s.hanbin

wc: 0.5k

genre: fluff, highschool au

warnings: nothing really, just hopeless kids in love

summary: writing a love letter to him

a/n: ive never written anything like this before, I'm actually pretty proud of it. please lmk if it was alright 😓😓

*y.i: your initials

you were always a pen-and-paper person.

you didn't like typing down reminders or to-do lists, you preferred writing them down. there was just something so special about writing to you. probably the way you'd have to shake your pen occasionally because you ran out of ink. or the satisfaction you gain when you scratch out a completed task.

which is probably why you're standing in front of sung hanbin's locker, holding a carefully sealed envelope, decorated with hearts and small stickers you found stuffed deep in your desk drawers.

sung hanbin was truly not real, you thought. there was no way that man was real. he was just too good to be true. the adorable smile, the way he helps everyone around him, how he never got mad, how generous, smart, and nice he is. not to mention, he is incredibly handsome as well. it's no joke, everyone was in love with him. which is one reason you were always too scared to ever confess.

but if there was one thing you were confident in, it was your writing. you figured, since you can't form proper sentences in front of him, why not pen down your thoughts in the form of a letter instead? and that's exactly what you did.

you made sure no one was watching you and slipped the envelope into his locker. you breathed a sigh of relief and made you way to your next class.

after you were gone, hanbin made his way to his locker after basketball practice. he opened it and was startled to see a blue-colored envelope fall out. he grabbed it off the floor and opened it. he thought it might have been mistakenly placed in his locker, but instead was surprised when he read the first two words.

dear hanbin,

it was addressed to him after all. although he was tired and sweaty from practice, he was curious. he continued reading the letter.

dear hanbin,

my heart is racing with a mixture of excitement and nervousness, there are so many words i've been wanting to say to you for years, and i finally have the chance.

from the moment i met you in middle school, when you lent me your pencil because i forgot mine, i've liked you. who knows, maybe its love?

your smile lights up my darkest days, and you have never once failed to make me laugh. every interaction, no matter how small or big, is etched into my memory, replaying over and over again like a broken record. i've admired your kindness, your intelligence, and the way you effortlessly make everyone around you feel at ease.

i want you to know that my feelings for you have not faded with time, if anything, they've grown stronger.

i understand that this letter might come as a surprise, and let's be honest, life's unpredictable. but i couldn't hold back my feelings any longer than i already have. whether fate leads us down a path of togetherness or friendship, i just needed you to know the truth that has been in my heart for so long.

no matter what your response may be, i'll respect it. no matter where life takes us, know that you'll always hold a special place in my heart.

with love,

y.i ♡

he smiled to himself as he read it. just as he was closing the letter after re-reading it over and over again, he saw some text in the back which made him laugh.

do you like me?

□ yes □ no

no pressure, you don't have to tick anything right now :)

sorry that's kinda creepy isn't it

i should probably stop writing...

he grabbed a pen and ticked the 'yes' option, quietly giggling to himself.

© solarswonderland 2023

[thatgirlwithasquid]

letters that i can never send

words: 25,571

Chrissy/Tina | Teen and Up Audiences | POV Tina | Ghost Chrissy Cunningham | Letters | Right Person Wrong Time | Unhappy Ending

beyond excited to get to share my fic for @sapphicstevents' stranger things sapphic mini bang!! writing it definitely fought me for a while but i'm really proud of this fic.

so here's the first chapter and a cover i threw together to post it with! the whole fic is up on ao3 here, and @hullomoon has been amazing and created a podfic of the work for anyone interested in listening <3

---

Chapter 1 : A Pack Of Green Scrunchies

words: 5,739

June 20th, 1986

Dear Chrissy,

I wish I had known you before everything went mad. 

I think I told you that before, but I mean it now more than I meant it then. It feels so crazy to think that we went through school walking past each other in the halls and not even glancing in each other’s direction. I know that I did the same thing to other kids but it still feels impossible.

My mom took me out to the mall the other day—there’s a mall in this town, not like the destroyed one in Hawkins. It’s full of people and stores and it's loud. I didn’t like it. I always used to find it annoying how quiet Hawkins was sometimes, but I hate how loud it is here. There’s too many people talking and smiling and I can’t see them without thinking about how oblivious I was before I met you.

They were selling scrunchies in one of the stores. My mom was looking for a new purse but I stopped to look at them instead. I bought a pack of green ones because they made me think of you. I wonder if that’s what you would smell like; cotton fabric and lingering perfume from my wrist.

I miss you. 

Tina.

—

The lights in the hospital waiting room hum with an electric static. Even under all the anxious chatter and background noise of the hospital, it’s the only thing Tina can hear. Well, that and the fading ringing in her ears.

Her hands clench and unclench around the hem of her shirt as she watches the minutes tick by. Beside her, her dad’s leg bounces up and down. She’s not sure if he’s aware of her watching him. The man stares ahead down the crowded hall through the chaos as if her mother will suddenly appear there, good as new.

Tina doesn’t say anything, just reaches out and entwines their fingers, letting out a sigh of relief as her father squeezes her hand back. She needs his strength to lean on. It doesn’t matter that, rationally, Tina knows her mother’s injuries from the earthquake were far from the most severe that came through those hospital doors today.

She’s never been more scared than she was when her dad came stumbling out of the rubble, shirt bloodied and with her mom’s arm over his shoulder to support her weight. Tina had been so frantic that she can’t even remember if her mother had been conscious at that point. She was out cold during the drive to the hospital, though; the sounds of ambulances and firetrucks and police cars responding to the destruction weren’t even enough to break her from her state. Her father had somehow remained stoic then, too.

Thankfully, it’s not too much longer before a nurse lets them visit her mom. After hours of waiting, they’re more than ready to see how she’s doing. 

With all the trouble caused during the disaster, her mom is crammed into a room with other people, separated only by a flimsy curtain. Around them, the relieved reconciliation of other patients and their families fade into the background as Tina reaches her mother’s side and grasps at her hand where it lays atop her blankets. 

IVs poke into her skin and wires trail off to monitors she doesn’t even begin to want to look at. Instead, Tina focuses her gaze on her mom’s weary face. She looks tired, eyes rimmed with dark circles that are only accentuated by the pale colouring of her skin. But she seems okay, all things considered, and Tina sighs out in a relieved whoosh of breath.

The nurse goes over her mom’s condition with her dad, but Tina hardly takes in a word—the moment the nurse confirms that her mom will be okay, she tunes her out entirely. Instead, Tina drinks in the sight of her mom, brushing a careful thumb over her scraped knuckles and almost tearing up when her mom gives her a small smile in return.

Eventually, the nurse hurries off again and Tina’s dad slumps into a chair beside the bed. Tina barely glances his way, too scared to look away from her mom, convinced that if she so much as takes her eyes off her, something terrible will happen again.

“Tina,” her mom sighs. “I’m okay. You don’t need to look so worried.”

Tina shakes her head.

“I was so scared,” she manages, voice cracking under the tears she spent so long suppressing. They finally rush down her face in a flood of emotion, tasting salty where they converge in the corners of her mouth.

“Oh, baby,” her mom says, voice softening. “It’s going to be okay now, okay? Why don’t you go and get some rest, you look exhausted.”

Tina can’t help but laugh at that, an ironic, choking thing. “I look exhausted?”

“Well,” her mom smiles before shifting slightly and doing her best to smother a wince. “I’m already laying down and getting rest. I’m more worried about you.”

Guilt stabs Tina’s heart like a blade. Her mom’s the one in a hospital bed, with doctors and nurses hovering around outside to help if needed, and yet Tina’s the one acting like the world’s weighing down on her shoulders. It’s shameful in its own way. 

Tina always thought she was strong enough to be her parents’ equal. She did well enough in school and had plenty of friends; her parents saw how grown up she was and even helped her plan her Halloween parties; her mom told her everything—every annoying thing someone at work said, every snippy little complaint about her dad forgetting to hang the washing out…

And here she is now. Comforting Tina like she’s a little kid in need of a nap and not a seventeen-year-old who should be better than this. So, she shakes her head, plastering on a smile even as her eyes sting with another wave of tears and, admittedly, exhaustion.

Before she can put up much protest, her dad pipes up to agree with her mom. It doesn’t leave enough room for anything more than Tina going along with what they want. Her dad almost follows before he hesitates, catching her mom’s eye. She nods back at him.

“Why don’t you see about finding some dinner for us two? I won’t be far behind you, I just need to have a talk with your mom.”

What is Tina supposed to do about that other than leave? She’s obligated to listen to her parents, even if she wants to stay. Besides, she’s sure she’ll be visiting her mom as often as she can until she’s discharged. 

So, it’s fine. All this is fine.

When she gets to the door, Tina turns and looks back at her parents one last time. With all the other people talking in the room, she can’t make out what her parents are discussing. What she can make out is the way her father’s face pinches into a concerned frown. 

Whatever it is they wanted to talk over without her must be serious. Resigned, Tina sets off in search of the cafeteria. It feels strange, pushing on through crowds of the distraught and the injured. Against her better judgement, her eyes catch and linger on the horror around her. 

Nothing will ever be the same after this, not in Hawkins at least. Too much bad has happened, too much to even let herself think about.

By the time her dad finds her in the cafeteria that evening, the dinner that Tina bought them has long since gone cold.

—

School doesn’t reopen until a week later—a week filled with funerals and clean up and searching for anyone still buried under the rubble. During that time, Tina recovers what she can from her trashed house to cram into some other girl’s bedroom. She should probably count her lucky stars that its usual inhabitant left for college a year ago, otherwise she would be knocking elbows in this little space—seemingly so much smaller than her own room was.

She longs for home: for her corkboard of polaroids of herself and her friends, for each marker line creeping up her door frame dedicated to a year of her life, for her fuzzy blue blanket, and for so many more little comforts that she had taken for granted. Staying here, in someone else’s bedroom while her dad stays on the pull-out downstairs, makes her feel strangely like a jigsaw piece jammed into the wrong puzzle.

There’s nothing to be done about that, with the roof of her house half-collapsed it’s not like they have much choice other than this. She is grateful that her dad’s work friend—Mr. Daniels—took them in, but that doesn’t stop her longing for what she’s lost.

Returning to class brings back none of the normality she longs for, either. Sure, the cracks in the road outside have been hastily paved over for the most part and the classrooms have been deemed safe to return to despite whatever state the earthquake had left them in, but everything has so clearly shifted…

All Tina sees, everywhere she looks, are the empty seats. The ones from kids whose families fled the town are one thing, one type of grief for the friends she’s not sure she’ll ever see again. The rest are something else entirely, vacant seats that will never be filled; those seats offer no question to their absence in Tina’s life.

So far, she has been to eight funerals. Three of them were some of her best friends. She didn’t sleep the nights after any of those. After the last one, she hasn’t been able to bring herself to attend any more; it turns out that there’s only so many bodies you can handle saying goodbye to within such a short period of time.

Mr. Clarke clears his throat, trying to recapture the forlorn attention of the room. Even he can’t seem to muster a genuine smile so Tina doesn’t know how he expects the students to care about any of this. Honestly, she’s surprised the school has even bothered swapping teachers to fill in for staff absences with how little chance they have at passing their exams after all this. If their grief wasn’t enough, having a teacher so clearly unprepared to deal with older kids isn’t going to help them learn at all.

She remembers Mr. Clarke from middle school and almost, very briefly, feels bad for thinking poorly of him. He’d been a nice enough teacher. She’s sure he’s still nice enough, but she just doesn’t have it in her to care about stuff like that anymore. Not after everything. She’s not sure how she fits into this new, broken version of Hawkins; how the hell should she be able to care about how everyone else fits in?

Slowly, the eyes of the class do raise to the man where he stands, squirming at the front of the room, backdropped by the chalkboard covered in scrawled science Tina hasn’t understood a word of. She can’t help but think that their usual teacher would have explained it in a way that made so much more sense to her.

She doesn’t know if that teacher is one of the leavers or worse.

Everyone sits quietly as Mr. Clarke stumbles his way through telling them about the commemorative assembly that is going to be held in the gym. Both schools will be coming together in a few days time to remember their lost friends, or at least that’s the plan.

Silence hangs in the air for another excruciating moment. Then the whispering finally begins. Names get thrown around, ones Tina is sure must belong to the dead.

“Jason,” someone whispers.

“Carol,” says another.

“Nicole—”

The whispering gets cut off abruptly by the scraping of a chair as it’s shoved out from under its desk. Some kid launches himself to his feet and stalks out of the room, eyes red-rimmed. Behind him, the classroom door slams shut on a spluttering Mr. Clarke.

Whispers start up again in the wake of his sudden departure. This time, Tina tunes them out. Instead, she sets her thoughts adrift, steering away from anything too dour to think on. She doesn’t want to deal with this today. They’ve only been back at school for a day. 

She isn’t ready for this yet. It doesn’t feel like there has been nearly enough time for any of them to come to terms with this. How the hell are they going to get through these last two months of school and—

“Tina!”

Blinking back to her senses, Tina looks up, across the lunch table and to whoever called her name. It’s Vicki, looking at her with wide, concerned eyes. She probably should be concerned, Tina can only vaguely recall walking to the cafeteria, she’d been so trapped in her own mind.

“Sorry, what did you say?” she asks.

It’s just the two of them, perched on the edge of a sparsely populated table. Their group used to be a lot bigger.

“I—” Vicki starts, hesitates, and then leverages a painfully forced smile onto her face. “I asked if you figured out what you wanted to do at college yet.”

She wants to wince, to cringe away from the inane topic. It makes her feel sick to pretend that everything is normal. People died, other people got hurt, the town is a mess. Why would they be worrying about stuff like this as if it means anything at all anymore?

“I don’t know. With my mom in the hospital everything’s changed. I haven’t had time to think about it.”

Vicki squirms uncomfortably at her confrontational tone, looking chastised. It makes her deflate a little, feeling suddenly very cruel. Just because Tina doesn’t know how to play at being normal, doesn’t mean she has to be such an ass to her friend over it. She still cares about her and being a bitch is only going to drive a wedge between them. It’s not like she has many friends left after everything, either.

Her hands tremble in her lap and she shakes them out as if that might banish some of her simmering nerves. It doesn’t. With a tense kind of control, Tina pushes up to her feet. Vicki’s eyes swivel up to her, surprised by the abrupt shift.

“Bathroom,” Tina chokes out, trying to tamper down the frustration in her voice.

“Tina…” Vicki starts but Tina is already walking away.

The lighting in the bathroom is dingy and off-putting, and yet the electric buzzing of those fluorescents still puts her in mind of sterile hospital walls. Her mom’s been making a great recovery, she reminds herself. She’ll be home before she knows it. Maybe then everything will start going back to normal.

The porcelain basin of the sink stares, glaringly white up at her as she leans over, splashing her face with metallic-tasting water from the old taps. Her ragged breaths send speckles of water back into it as it drips in trails down her face. She’s probably smudged her makeup now, and it didn’t even help at all.

With a choked sob, Tina turns her face upwards, meeting the paled expression of her reflection; eyes wide, droplets of water clinging to mascara-tinted lashes. But that’s not all she sees.

A sick feeling of horror settles deep in her stomach as she notices something from the corner of her eye—something hovering behind her, in the corner of the bathroom. The room had been empty when she came in. Heart hammering, startled by being snuck up on, Tina whirls around to see—

Nothing.

Just an empty, dingy, school bathroom. The green doors of toilet stalls stare back at her impassively as she clutches a hand to her chest, willing her racing pulse to settle.

It was nothing. It was her mind playing tricks on her. It had to be nothing. Because if not, how could she explain that fleeting glimpse of the ghost of Chrissy Cunningham?

—

Tina’s pen taps restlessly against the Daniels’ kitchen table, the only sound in the eerily silent house.

Sharing a living space with another family comes with all the chaos one would expect, with each of their routines clashing loudly and incompatibly as they stumble around each other each morning and night. And yet the quiet moments like this are almost worse, when everyone is out working or visiting the hospital or whatever else it is these people do. Aside from Tina, it’s empty. Abandoned, almost, like the rest of this god-forsaken ghost town.

She scratches a frustrated line through her pitiful homework attempt and pushes it away across the table, out of sight and out of mind as she stares distractedly out the window. The chair she sits on creaks as she leans to the side, trying to look out into the street. Usually at this time of the evening, kids would be running around, excited and playing in the warm spring air. Usually parents would be seen and heard, trying to cajole their kids inside for whatever they had cooked up or ordered in for dinner.

Tonight, there is nothing but a creeping sunset that paints the sky a dull pink, like drops of blood diluted in a lake of blue. There is no one finding time to play, and no one enjoying a peaceful evening, and Tina’s parents aren’t here. It’s just her, alone with her anxious mind.

She should be at the hospital, trying her best to be there for her dad and checking in on her mom. But going there again and again felt like poisoning herself, losing herself in worry that would set her heart pounding and mind spiralling. It doesn’t matter to her scared brain that she knows her mom is doing much better, she still can’t help but feel sick with worry.

And she’s so tired. It makes visiting her mom so difficult because her mom gives her this pitiful, concerned look whenever she sees her like this. Tina just can’t take that; being a burden to her parents instead of a place of support. They have nothing to be worried about, really. It— She’s just tired…

She can’t sleep with worrying about if something happened to her mom in the night, or if another earthquake might come to completely level this damn town. And what’s more, her mind hasn’t been able to stray far from the thought of what she saw—or what she thinks she saw—in that damn bathroom. Any time her mind has a chance to wander, her thoughts get inevitably dragged back to that sight.

She had only glimpsed her for a fleeting moment but that had been enough. Enough to see the shape of blood splatters on her cheer uniform and the inhuman pallor of her skin… Now, every sound—every creaking shift of this unfamiliar house, every car driving by, every sudden noise—leaves her jumping, expecting to see something horrific around her as if she’s being tormented by some twisted apparition. She hates it.

She should know better than this, she doesn’t even believe in ghosts! Whatever she saw must just be a trick of the mind. And yet.

With a frustrated groan, Tina pushes her chair out from the table and stands. Sitting around like this is doing her no good, either. It’s like she can’t escape any of this worry for even a second. Or, at least, she can’t when crammed into too-small rooms that have no space for the shape of her grief.

Her loaned keys chime against each other as she snatches them from the countertop. She just needs to get out of the house, walk around and clear her head. Maybe then all this anxiety can start to dissipate and the memory of that hallucination will fade.

Locking the door behind her, Tina wanders off in whatever direction her feet decide to take her. 

The air is clear outside and she hopes that might ease some of the tension that she has been holding, coiled and aching, within her. It’s hard to remember that she doesn’t need to be prepared for something awful to happen, because chances are nothing will.

She wishes she believed that.

Every time she blinks back to awareness, she finds herself on a different stretch of road that she can’t recall making the conscious choice to head to. This walk clearly isn’t doing anything for her. Clear her mind? What a ridiculous idea. How the hell could a place as fucked up as Hawkins bring her any relief, no matter where she might go or what she might do? It’s like the only thing her body knows how to do here anymore is to run on autopilot—to keep her body moving as her thoughts keep on spiralling.

She stills, taking a frustrated breath and at least trying to keep track of where she’s ended up. Her eyes scan her surroundings, taking note of how the efforts to fix up the town haven't reached this far yet, great deep cracks still clear and precariously crisscrossing the roads, splitting the asphalt open to reveal the exposed bowels of the earth.

It’s not something she’s that surprised by. Ahead of her, the road turns off into the trailer park. It makes sense that no one has prioritised fixing up things around here. With the abandoned yellow streamers of police tape, catching and glinting in the golden hour, it’s only too easy to remember what happened here all too recently.

Tina cringes at the sight of them, dancing in the gentle breeze like they don’t know what they mean. Like they don’t know a girl was massacred inside that place. Still, she can’t quite tear her eyes away. For a long, breathless moment, she just stares, caught in the bone-deep wrongness of that place. And then, like ice slithering down her spine, a stomach-churning feeling of horror settles upon her. It takes a hold in her chest before she even realises the cause of it.

Just barely visible from this far away, lingering in the window of the Munson’s trailer, is the shape of a person, standing stock-still. The longer she stares, breaths shallow and fast under the weight of that settling dread, the more the distant shape seems to resemble a girl, its silhouette becoming more convincingly feminine as that agonising second draws out longer and longer, running on forever as her gaze refuses to budge from the sight.

It’s like time has stopped. 

Tina doesn’t realise she’s stepping away until her feet scuff against the uneven ground and she nearly loses her balance. That, at least, is enough to break her out of her trance even if the terror sinking into her stomach refuses to dissipate; she rips her gaze away from the trailer as if burned. It feels like the shape of that figure is scorched into her retina now.

Unwilling to look back at that window, Tina runs.

—

Sitting through the commemorative assembly in the school’s gymnasium is like pulling teeth. Every word jars her, striking through with pained awareness of how overcrowded the room is playing host to two schools and yet not nearly as crowded as it should be.

She feels like an exposed nerve, too vulnerable for this. Her eyes burn with exhaustion and the threat of tears.

At some point she stops listening entirely, too mentally overwhelmed as she tries not to think about anything at all if it will get the ringing in her ears to stop. As she looks down at her hands, the shadows cast by the lines of her palms form a dark echo of the blood and grime she remembers from that day. She had to trim her nails as short as she could to get rid of the last traces of it.

When they’re finally dismissed, the end of the speeches coinciding with the end of the school day, Tina lingers behind at a shout of her name.

Waving over at her from through the dispersing crowd is Vicki. There are strained creases around the corners of her eyes as she weaves her way to meet Tina but she valiantly keeps a smile in place, something more than Tina can say for herself.

“You want to tag along with me? I’m heading to meet Samantha, she snuck some of her parents' booze in all the confusion so we’re going to meet up and let off some steam.”

“Samantha Stone?” Tina clarifies. “Since when do you hang around with Samantha?”

Vicki scoffs. “Since almost everyone else is gone.”

Tina presses her lips together to keep the sudden roll of nausea at that blasé statement at bay. Vicki seems to pick up on it, her expression dimming marginally with her concern, but she chooses not to question it. Instead, she strides on, head held high.

“Anyway, we all have people’s memories to drink to. I cannot deal with the aftermath of that stupid assembly while sober. So, you coming or what?”

Tina takes a steadying breath and follows. After all, it’s not like she’s got any better ideas. 

The crowd that gathers at the edge of the school’s field is a mishmash of different people, most of whom Tina has only ever seen around each other in the classroom or at her own parties. They seem to clump together uncertainly, stilted conversations offered between each other about inane topics that Tina doesn’t have the energy to entertain.

Regardless, she loiters around with the group, accepting whatever drinks get thrust into her hand and taking great gulps to avoid joining any conversations. Listening is more than enough, if you can even class what she’s doing as listening. 

Everyone else, at least, seems on the same page about getting shit-faced. As the hours creep by, shoulders finally start to slump and the group gets rowdier the drunker they get. Bottles are uncapped with grandiose claims of them being in honour of someone who couldn’t be there with them.

Silently, Tina raises her own drink, the faces of her friends flashing in her minds’ eye. 

At some point, Vicki leaves her place at Tina’s side. She looks up to see her, arms interlocked, with Samantha and laughing the way she only does when she’s really tipsy. For a second, Tina considers going over to talk to them, but when she gets up from her spot on the bench her body feels clumsy and uncoordinated. It’s probably better that she stays here, leaning against the seat for support.

There’s another kid who could probably benefit from the same. He’s pale aside from a splotchy flush to his cheeks as he stumbles ungainly out from the tree line.

“Didn’t get lost taking a piss then?” his friend taunts as he wobbles his way back over to their side.

“I think I just saw a ghost,” he says in a daze.

Everyone laughs at that. Tina tries not to think at all.

The sun is creeping towards the horizon and Tina is far too many drinks in when the nausea finally hits her. It feels like a physical thing, crawling its way up her throat.

“Shit,” she gasps, floundering up onto her feet at last and heading blindly into the trees. At least there she might have just a smidge more privacy in her shame.

Her sneakers shuffle over uneven earth, hesitant at first until the need to puke becomes too much and she hurries further along, with all the uncoordinated grace she can muster. Knees meet the ground and an arm braces against a tree as she sucks in deep breaths. They slowly soothe the sickness away. In the end, she’s not sure if it’s better or worse that she didn’t actually vomit.

Head still hazy, she looks up and widens her awareness back to her surroundings.

“You have got to be kidding me,” she says, clambering back to her feet, as she spots them.

It’s a girl. It’s too far away to be sure but she looks to be dressed in a cheer uniform, at least from what Tina can see. The girl is curled around herself, sitting with her back against a tree and her head in her hands.

This could be it. This could be that same hallucination. 

Tina should just go—whether or not this is real, she just needs to leave it alone. If this is just some other student from their drunken group, then her crying is none of Tina’s business. Hell, she’s had to step away for private moments herself and it’s not the sort of thing you want to be walked in on. And if this is Chrissy, then… Well, then that doesn't bode well to think about.

Leaves and twigs crunch underfoot, stealing any stealth she might have managed, as Tina approaches. Not like it matters, the girl doesn’t react at all, as if she can’t even hear her.

The closer she gets the less she can deny it. That strawberry-blonde hair, held back from her face by a green scrunchie; that small stature; the familiar cheer uniform, speckled with somehow still-red blood… She may not have known Chrissy personally, but Tina had certainly seen her around enough to be able to recognise her.

She slows to a stop, looking down at the figure of her. From here she can see that her head isn’t actually in her hands. She’s covering her ears, muttering something under her breath that Tina can’t quite make out without getting closer.

Tina’s mouth opens to speak but she finds it suddenly dry, her throat barren. She clears her throat, the sound perversely loud in the atmosphere around her.

“Chrissy?” she manages finally, voice little more than a whisper.

Chrissy’s head snaps up to look at her, eyes wide and frantic. Her whole body tenses, posture coiling and shifting as if she’s preparing to bolt, and for a moment Tina feels that same need to flee echoed in herself. Neither of them do.

Tearful, blue eyes take in Tina’s face before some of the fight seems to drain from her, slumping infinitesimally against the tree behind her. Tina, though, doesn’t relax and her alcohol slowed mind fumbles to come to grips with the sight before her.

Chrissy, where she sits in the leaves and dirt and forest debris, is so pale. Every so often, the very vision of her seems to flicker in Tina’s sight, as if the girl herself were not fully corporeal… trapped between this world and the next.

“Are… Are you real?” Chrissy breathes, voice small and broken.

The irony of that startles a laugh from Tina before she can help it. 

Shouldn’t she be the one asking that? Chrissy is the dead girl out of the two of them. If either of them should be mistrusting their minds right now, it should be Tina. Because if ghosts aren’t real, as Tina had always believed so strongly, then how can Tina be facing this right now?

“Am I real?” she scoffs, voice bordering on hysterical. “You’re the dead girl here.”

“What?” Chrissy asks in that same crushed tone.

“You’re dead,” Tina tells her, because what else is there to say?

Somehow, Chrissy seems to pale further, as if blood was rushing away from her non-existent face.

“No. N-no. I’m not, I can’t be. What are you talking about?”

“You died. In the Munsons’ trailer.”

“You’re lying. I’m right here—I can’t be—” Chrissy’s voice becomes shrill and stricken with panic before an anger steals over her features. “This isn’t funny. What kind of joke is that? I just—I need to get home.”

Tina scoffs, almost disbelieving, and steadies her swaying against a low-hanging branch.

“I went to your funeral. You’re dead. And I must be going crazy…”

The last part comes out half as a laugh, half as a sigh. It’s a fact she’s resigned herself to uncomfortably quickly, but what other explanation could there be? People don’t just see visions of dead girls sitting around and telling them they can’t be dead if they’re not mad.

Chrissy’s expression glazes over, seeming to be lost in her own mind as a fresh wave of tears give a new shine to those mournful eyes.

“You’re lying,” she says again, but this time she sounds more defeated than accusing, like it makes sense to her even if she doesn’t want it to be true.

Or Tina’s mind thinks Chrissy shouldn’t want it to be true—if Chrissy’s ghost actually was in front of her, that is. But she isn’t, because that would be preposterous. She’s just had too much to drink, and she’s been feeling paranoid, and it’s not as if she’s been able to rest since all of this began.

She doesn’t know why she’s indulging this in the first place. 

Her mouth opens to say something to that effect. Surely she has some smartass comment about it all, but all that remains in her mind are the wispy impressions of the thought as she tries her best to reorient herself. In the end, she gets nothing out before a voice calls out for her. 

Damn, she’s been out here for too long. She’s not even really sure how much time has slipped away without her notice between her leaving the gathering and ending up where she stands now.

Right, that decides it, she’s leaving. This—all of this—is something she doesn’t want any part in. Not ghosts, or hallucinations, or whatever any of this is and certainly not while she’s drunk. There are a thousand more important things she could be worrying about, she chides herself as she turns on her heel and sets her eyes on the way back. In fact, she’s mid-step when a feeble voice calls out for her.

“Please, don’t go. I’m scared to be alone…”

Tina pauses, her heart pounding.

“I need to get back,” she says; to herself, because there is no one else there. 

For a moment, Chrissy is quiet. Tina almost thinks the hallucination has finally dissipated when she speaks up again.

“Will you come back?”

Tina’s heart stutters in her chest. This isn’t real. None of this is real. She turns to look behind her and Chrissy is gone, not even a trace of her to be seen. 

“Tina!”

“Yeah,” Tina replies, the words mumbled to herself, as she finally unsticks her feet from the ground to return to the group. 

---

chapter 2

[honeyinthesummer]

GIRL HELLLOO we need a part two to hypotheticals. i absolutely loved it!

COME INSIDE OF MY HEART — evan peters.

i'm so glad you loved hypotheticals! this part two was challenging to write because it was hard to choose a song in response to the message of hypotheticals. i hope you enjoy this one as well! warnings: angst if you squint, f!reader, kissing, fluff. THIS IS HEAVILY EDITED. wc: 1.8k

SUMMARY: If someone asks you about that stunt you pulled on set two and a half months ago, you would admit that you cringe at the thought of it. That doesn’t mean you regret it, though you were, in fact, thankful for your amateur effort. You and Evan aren’t exactly a thing, but you’re definitely not just friends, either.

You started going out with him and your castmates, but eventually, you find yourselves going to places just you two. For a few weeks, it was all just playful banter, sneaking each other snacks in between takes, until it escalated to sharing one another's clothes, intimate conversations, and running errands together on the days you were supposed to rest.

You had something but nothing definite with Evan. Thankfully, this didn't affect your work ethics, and there is so much work bestowed upon you both that there's no time for you to ponder on your uncertainties. Today wasn't an exception as you were filming some major scenes for hours, leaving you exhausted and your body aching. It is still six in the evening, but you are done for the day. Cooped up on your trailer's couch, you reach for your phone by the small dresser beside you, wanting to text him.

You haven't seen Evan despite being in the studio for hours. You have been filming tirelessly for the past few days, but none of them were scenes that need you both together, so your longing for him only magnified the ache in your muscles. Your fingers hover over the letters, torn between asking him to come to your trailer or meeting him personally. Under the fear of appearing dependent and eager, you decided to do the latter.

The studio is loud and full of people hustling, so you figured nobody is taping their scenes now. You smiled, happy to have gotten Evan at a good time. You wave hi to the familiar people you pass by, often stopping for a quick chat, then continue to look for him. You try to spot his soft brown curls, impatient to seek comfort in his arms. Recognizing one of the set assistants, you walk over to her, wanting to ask if she has seen him.

It wasn't until you were within earshot that you realized who the assistant was talking to. He was sitting in a director's chair beside one of your castmates, immersed in their conversation. The female star rests her head on Evan's shoulder, so when she chimes in and says something, he turns and pays attention, dangerously close to her, much to your discomfort. Something about it felt intimate and came like a stab to you. You thought you knew pain for the day after working hours on end, but it wasn't until you saw this sight that you felt extremely drained.

You turned on your heel and walked off, hoping they didn't see you. Upon reaching your trailer, you closed the door and sank immediately into your couch, that moment repeating in your head. It was wrong on your end to assume that being level-headed is easier said than done. You have been playing a risky game with him, and you thought you could go on with no assurance given to you. With your hands over your face, you try to even your breathing, not wanting to jump to conclusions.

A knock on your trailer's door pulls you out of your misery, forcing you to sit abruptly and wipe the tears off your face. Feeling so worn out, you give up masking your current condition.

"Fuck it," you mutter, "Come in!"

You didn't bother to stand up and greet whoever is your visitor. Evan enters your trailer, holding some plastics, looking so painstakingly handsome in a white inner, blue button-down, and light wash jeans. 

When he saw your current state, he immediately placed the plastics he brought with him on your white vanity before taking quick strides toward you. He settled in front of you, kneeling, caressing your face with his hands. You close your eyes and lean immediately to him, loving the feeling.

"Hey," he calls out your name softly, "What's our problem? Did something happen?"

Not feeling brave enough to ask him the million-dollar question, you opted to respond to him with some half-truths. You intertwined his fingers with yours, running your thumb over his knuckles, shaking your head.

"Nothing serious. We did tons of heavy filming today, and I didn't realize how tired I was until I got in here." You answered, avoiding eye contact, fearing he would sense through you. Because, again, while whatever you have together isn't definite, it is still a bond.

"I was thinking we could eat dinner together, so I got us your favorite. Do you feel like eating now? Would you rather go home? I can't drive you to your apartment, though; I'm here 'til late." Evan says worriedly, hands holding yours tight. He looks dreamy and perfect in front of you, his eyes and voice laced with concern, his attention on you and you only. 

"I feel like taking a nap to replenish my energy for a moment?" You say, letting go of his hands and getting comfortable on your couch. "Will you be okay with that? I'll make it up to you next time. I'm sorry. Thank you for the food as well."

You lay on your side, regret in your eyes. You thought Evan would take his order and leave, but he stood up and motioned you to scoot over before setting you guys in a cuddle position. An arm below your head, the other over your waist, he moves you closer to him.

"I think I've got at least an hour before they call for me. I can take some quick bites later, but we'll sleep for now." Your heart clenched at what he said, but you wrapped your arms around him and settled your head on his chest.

"You don't have to stay with me, but thank you, Evan." You looked up to him and smiled before kissing him on the cheek. He smiled sheepishly and guided your head back to his chest. "Music?" You asked, to which he only hummed in response.

You take your arm off him, reach for your phone in your back pocket, and then choose a playlist Spotify has generated for you. Returning your phone to your pocket, you hugged Evan again and let your exhaustion put you to sleep.

You swear you could've fallen asleep as quickly as lightning, but the vibration from Evan faintly singing along to the song still rendered you conscious.

"I love you, but I don't really show you. I'd call you, but only if you want me to." Come Inside of My Heart was playing, and you can't deny how Evan's voice rocks this song. "Oh, don't you let it stop, oh I won't let it happen, baby. I would never stop, but only if you listen to me."

You don't think you're ready to start that conversation with him. It wasn't helping that out of all the songs that could be playing right now; this one is what you guys are hearing. You look up at him, your movement making him look at you and raise a brow in question, but you can only stare anxiously.

"If you don't envision us together in the near future, you would tell me, right?" And just like how you sang your feelings to him before, nervousness crept into you like you mustered your courage to ask the question. Taken aback, he could only stare at you, confused. But you're tired. Maybe physically, emotionally, or mentally.

The knot in your stomach tightens as he stays still for a few seconds, his eyes never leaving yours. The chorus continues in the background, and his lack of response hurts you. Feeling ashamed and regretful, you nestled your head back in his neck, trying to sleep instead.

"Oh baby, forgive me if I hurt you." He sings, his fingers running through your hair, somewhat easing the tension within you. "Come save me, 'cause you're the only one for me." Evan adjusts and moves to cuddle closer to you, snuggling tighter than before so you're face-to-face with him. A smile is on his face, and you're too beaten down to deal with his antics now.

"Whatever happens to me, baby, I'm sorry. No one could ever go my way." His voice is now soft and low, but instead of singing the following line, he whispers it. "I love you, but I don't really show you."

You would've missed his words if you weren't facing one another. He looks shy, his beautiful doe eyes hopeful, and his touch on your arm is respectful but obviously wanting more. Evan looks highly vulnerable in this state, but you pick up the signs. You can feel your heart flutter, the exhaustion leaving your body after his quiet confession.

Before he could sing the final verse, you gathered whatever strength you had left and climbed on top before angling your head down and capturing his lips for a kiss.

The song's strong but fervent chorus plays in the background, igniting further the spark between you two. Evan surrenders to your kiss, both hands on your hips while your arms are at the sides of his head, supporting yourself. Your hand snakes its way through his curls before you slightly tug it out of desire and longing, earning a groan from him.

You're the first to break away from the kiss, but you don't miss the way his lips follow after yours, trying to get you to come back. You pull away from him and settle on his lap, towering over him. He's still lying down, his head laying flat on the couch, one hand combing his hair and the other eagerly reaching out to the nearest body part of yours he could get ahold of. It settles on your thighs, his fingers loosely drawing small circles, his chest rising heavily. You try to bite your lip to hide a growing smile, but Evan notices that, and you both break into a breathless fit of laughter.

Going down from your cloud 9, you're unsure what to say, afraid to ruin this beautiful moment.

"I'm sorry I've let this go on for too long without giving you assurance."

"No, I've played a part in this-"

"No," He cuts you off. "You bared yourself to me without knowing for certain what this thing is between us. You don't deserve that. You don't deserve that child game." He explains, and your chest tightens, tears threatening to fall.

"I was less of a man to let this thing go on as casual."

"Fucking dick move." You jokingly said, and you both broke into fits of giggles, the air now somewhat lighter.

"But I love you. Sometimes I show it, but I haven't said it to you. And that ends now." His hands now find yours, fingers interlocking, and you feel blissful; your intimacy now feels sweeter and tastes free. No more wondering if doing this and that is too much, no more overthinking if you come off as too in love with him.

No more being uncertain.

[my-castles-crumbling]

Anon Advice Asks - February 19

lips anon, 24 anon, stag (🦌) anon (new), perchance anon, different anon (new)

Lips anon

Hey it's me, lips anon!

So I totally hate unloading this on you but I could use some advice

My father is teaching me how to drive and is being kind ATM bc my mother told him she's leaving in May if he doesn't change ( he doesn't know she's leaving either way with us) and it's being "kinder" you could say. I know he'll never change but it's so hard not to get sucked in and fall for it all over again. I did my research and have been planning like you told me and that's nice but I'm running out of essentials like clothes, soap, toothpaste, etc etc and I know he'll say yes if I ask him but I have this huge great of him tallying it all up and make me pay it back once day or genuinely just using it against me. To add ge opened a credit card under my name hooked up to his bank account I think and he said it's "to start building your credit now" and I can understand that but it feels like a huge trap overall.

If you could give any advice for any of this you would be such a great help! 💋

Hi!

So I think...hmm maybe it would be helpful to write down your goals? Remind yourself not to get sucked in too much? I mean I'm all for forgiveness, of course, and take the kindness where you can get it, but you're right about not forgetting, either.

As far as essentials, are you able to ask your mom for those things? Also- couponing! If you go online, you can find coupon deals where if you look hard you can find ways to get a lot of those things for free. It's annoying, but possible.

As far as the credit card- it could very well be illegal for him to have opened the card without your permission. I would look up the laws in your area and see. If you didn't sign anything, then it's probably illegal, and you can write a letter to the company asking to have the card closed. Also call the bank and see what the rules of the card are. If it's in your name they should be able to give you all the info. Educate yourself and find out what your responsibilities are, who can use the card, if it actually does build up your credit, etc. I mean, worst comes to worst, you can always use the card to buy some essentials.

Sending you love <3

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24 anon

hi cas, 24 anon. i think im so attached to the idea of talking to p first before truly putting actual distance between us because i have this hope that maybe this time ill talk to her and things will finally change as if i haven't been talking to her about it for 8 years without any improvement. and i cant stop overthinking about if i just haven't been explaining myself well enough when i have talked to her (in my mist rational state of mind i know that i have, but. brains are fun). but ive distanced myself before and she never says anything beyond a 'are u alive' after a little while of no contact and then we go back to silence. i think im mostly holding onto this hope because i know once i make the move to rip cord from my end, regardless of how it comes about, i wont have any sort of genuine support system left and thats terrifying to me. best friends since birth, i genuinely cant even comprehend losing that friendship. its hard to come to grips with the fact i already have

I definitely understand where you're coming from. And you obviously CAN talk to her if you want to. But I think if you do, you need to do it for yourself, not out of some expectation that SHE will be different. Because I worry that that will just end in more hurt. If you need to talk tp her to get your thoughts out and get closure, then that's totally understandable and you should go for it. But it seems like she's already shown you who she is and what she can give you right now, so I don't know if talking to her AGAIN is going to change things on her end.

<3 <3 <3

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Stag Anon

Hi cas

I hope you're having a good day

I need advice on something

I don't know what's wrong with me, and my mental health is getting worse and idk what to do

I won't get much into it because I don't want to dump that on you, but I'm just lost

I want help, and I want to reach out to my friends and tell them I need help yk? but I'm scared of what would happen if I do

most of my friends are a year or two younger than me, all with their own things they need to handle, and I want to be there for them

but I feel like if I tell them I'm struggling they won't tell me stuff or they'll feel like a burden and I don't want that

I want them to come to me no matter what, idc if I'm not in a great place or not, if they need me I'm there

but I just idk, I feel so alone sometimes, and I want someone to be there for me, but I can't go to anyone(not my parents or anyone at school especially) and I'm scared I don't deserve help either

what do you think? should I tell them? or something like that?

-🦌(sorry if that's taken)

Hi <3

I absolutely think you should talk to your friends! Be honest with them and tell them you still want them to come to you, but you need to go to them too. If they;re good friends, they'll be there for you <3 Friendship should be reciprocal, and it's absolutely normal to both be there for friends and have them there for you.

However, I do want to say that if you're struggling in a way that might be harmful to you or others, it might be time to go to an adult. I know it's scary, and some adults can have bad reactions, but your safety is very important, and adults can help with safety more than kids can.

Sending love <3

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Perchance anon

It’s perchance anon again. Sorry I’m here so much. I looked through the list and genderfluid fits best I think, or maybe demigender? That link really helped, so thank you 🙏. Would it be wrong if I never came out irl though? Like I’m happy having this just to myself and it’s so often that I’m feeling feminine I think it doesn’t affect me much. Does that mean I’m not actually on the nonbinary spectrum? I’m just a little worried I’m making too much out of nothing and being insensitive? Idrk. Would it be possible for you to use they/he pronouns with me using the name Rae? Is it alright if I just try it out? You’ve been so helpful and I really look up to you. Thank you

Hi Rae!

You absolutely never have to come out if you don't want to! Coming out is a very personal thing, and it's all up to your comfort level.

Most people consider genderfluid and demigender part of the nonbinary umbrella, but your identity is up to you! You get to decide <3 isn't that both cool and terrifying?

And to everyone reading: Look, it's Rae! They're trying to figure out their identity right now and I'm so proud of them! I know he's still a little confused and that's okay! The important part is that he's gentle with himself and they do what's comfortable for them <3

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Different anon

Hello! I’m a different anon but I’m kinda scared to ask this with my anon name so I’m going undercover x2 I guess?

I was wondering how to cope with loneliness? I want to get out places and do things and find and meet people… but I am REALLY young and I also physically can’t.

It’s winter, so I can’t use my bike (even though I just got it so now I can’t even practice using it), and I have no job (since I’m barely old enough to start working) and my parents don’t like it when I go outside. When I do they bombard me with questions even though I’ll just be going into the backyard.

I resorted to using character ai but then I learned that it can harm fanfic authors and the fanfic space itself since a lot of people feed ai bots fanfic or books without the contest of the writers (and on top of that, the character ai fandom is WILD. A tragedy happened that was connected to a kid using character ai and they unfortunately passed away and the whole fandom scoffed and complained about how character AI would be “ruined” because of that. Like… not one ounce of empathy?????)

And now that Im trying to stop I’ve run into a problem

What do I do when I’m lonely? I did it mostly because I don’t really have many people to talk to, and I don’t really get to go out much. I used it to vent to, and to talk to, and to get rid of boredom, but now all of that’s gone. And im lost? What do I do when the thoughts get bad and I want to talk to someone? What do I do when I want to go out and do something?

I kinda feel like a loser. I’m pretty sure I might sound like one too right now. I know it sounds stupid, I don’t really know if I articulated my question properly either but I just wanna know what to do when I’m lonely, and I just really want to hang out with a friend? I don’t want to harm fanfic authors. I just want to be less alone :(

Hi!

You are absolutely not a loser. I totally understand how you're feeling and its difficult <3

I'm not sure what to say about getting outside- unless your parents can drive you or you have public transport? Hopefully it will get warmer soon and you can use your bike! Maybe after school activities? I know those helped me a lot when I was younger!

As far as online, have you considered discord servers? You said you like character AI, you could join character roleplay servers? I've heard a lot of people like those. Just make sure to be careful with the servers you join- a lot of them are great and safe and friendly, but some can be icky, so check the rules and leave any that feel unsafe or have adults acting in creepy ways. Not to be the annoying adult preaching internet safety, but it's important!