#i would apologize but i'm not actually sorry >:)

[imsofreakingtired]

ok since the people are asking for a sequel to this fic... i must deliver 🫡

crawling back to you

content warning(s): angst - buT THERES A HAPPY ENDING I SWEAR

"crawlin' back to you, ever thought of callin' when you've had a few? 'cause i always do maybe i'm too busy being yours to fall for somebody new."

~~~

Sevika catches you halfway back to the apartment. You are bathed in the neon light of the sign of the Last Drop several steps ahead, making you feel like a hologram. That might have been all you were to Sevika. A hologram. Something pleasant to look at, not tempting enough to touch.

“Baby,” she says, “let me explain.” 

She’s not even out of breath. Your world is falling apart and she probably just decided to walk leisurely after you, as if you barely mattered more than just another one of her girls. 

You avoid her gaze. “I thought you were busy tonight.” 

“I am,” she snaps. “This is ridiculous.” 

You’re silent.

“Did you actually think I was going to Babette's every night? You think I’d lie to you that way?” 

“I don't know,” you hiss. “Would you?” 

You know people are overhearing the two of you, but your anger bubbles over like a boiling vat of undiluted Shimmer. Sevika glares down at you, and you feel a twist in your heart. This is the end of everything. Even though she’s the one at fault, she’s the one with the records in Babette’s and not you, you feel like you’re the one pulling all the wrong strings. 

Your question hurts her more than she would ever let on. Of all the people who’d accuse her of lying, she never thought the dagger would be driven home by you. She wants to tell you she’s sorry, that she doesn’t know why she went into the arms of a stranger rather than risk being vulnerable to you. She wants to tell you all she was trying to do was protect you from her. She wants to ask: if she showed you the cracks in her skin where she’d broken and put herself together again, would you still stay?

But she can’t, because now there’s a wall of ice between you and you are already turning away. This time, she doesn’t follow. 

When she comes home late that night, the apartment is empty. 

~~~

You have found a small, run-down inn where the rats skitter beneath the floorboards and the water doesn’t run half the time, and you’ve sworn every single person you know to secrecy regarding your whereabouts. Every day that goes by feels heavier without Sevika. 

You smoke Shimmer vaporizers to escape the lonely silence of the room, you find work in a scrap metal shop and spend every waking minute of the day trying not to miss her. Trying not to fall into that endless pit of remorse. Go back, go back, get the fuck back and apologize. She was a mess when you met her. You know she can’t live without you. You’re terrified she might do something dangerous and reckless to herself, that she might hurt herself or worse. You find yourself wondering at night if she had eaten dinner or if she had just gone to sleep after a smoke and a shot of whiskey. You have nightmares of seeing her dead at your feet. 

One night it rains like Zaun has never seen before. It’s like the sky has opened up like a wailing mouth, or a gaping wound. Torrents of rainwater rush between buildings and submerge basements. It’s a night no one in their right mind would ever bother going out in. 

So of course that’s the night you hear the banging on your door. 

You open it, a broken bottle in hand, ready for a threat. You think it could be the manager, a sneaking thief who stealthily raises the price of the rooms with each passing week. 

Instead you see Sevika. 

Her prosthetic arm is detached and she isn’t wearing her cloak. Her hair is plastered wetly against her face. Her clothes are drenched. 

Your first thought: is she out of her mind?

Your second: oh my gods. She’s lost her mind.

“How did you know I was here?” You demand loudly. “Are you trying to catch your death?” 

The second part of the sentence comes out as instinct, and you’re embarrassed but it’s too late. Her brows were knit together like thunderclouds, but her expression softens slightly when she hears the concern in your voice. She had been preparing herself for anything. She was convinced you had already found someone new, and were living with them. Now there’s hope. You might still care about her. 

“Get the fuck in here,” you snap, grabbing her by the arm and pulling her into the room as if she’s a misbehaving child. You yank the moth-eaten sheets off the bed and throw them around her shoulders. “Are you drunk? Why aren’t you saying anything?” 

Fear pierces through your irritation. Has something happened? Is she sick? Is she running from something?

Sevika looks down at you, watching wordlessly as you try to rub the water off her skin. When you let go of her, she lets the sheets fall to the floor. 

You throw your hands up helplessly. “What are you doing here? Who told you I was here?” 

“You think I needed a gingerbread trail to find you?” 

You fall quiet, cursing yourself inwardly. Sevika probably knew where you were since the day you left. 

You know why she’s here. You can see it in her eyes, where all her unspoken emotions betray her. But she can’t translate them into words. She can’t say the words you need to hear. 

You sit down on the bed with a heavy sigh. The room is silent but for the sound of dripping water. Finally you speak. 

“Babette says you only went there once.” You look at her. “Why?” 

She looks down. “I was drunk.” 

“You gonna use that excuse every time from now on?”

“No,” she says sharply. “I thought—I thought I didn’t have you anymore.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” 

She shakes her head, frustrated. “I don’t know. I don’t know, I just—I—” 

She comes forward suddenly, and you instinctively draw back, thinking she might hit something. There’s a desperate look in her face that you’ve never seen before. But she doesn’t raise her hand. She kneels on the floor in front of you. 

“Sevika, what—?”

“Take me back,” she pleads, her voice rough. “I swear it’ll never happen again, so—take me back.” 

You try to stay angry. You try to push her away. But when you look in her dark grey eyes and see the tears standing on the lashes, you find you can’t do either. You feel the heat of her body against your knees, and as you slowly remove the string tying her hair and run your fingers through the wet strands you realize with a pang just how badly you missed her. 

Sevika gives a sigh and lays her head down in your lap. 

“You’re not entirely forgiven yet,” you tell her. 

“I know,” she says, her voice muffled. 

It’s as close as she’ll ever come to saying she’s sorry. You think it’s not a bad start. 

~~~

note: your honor she is just a sad wet puppy in the rain and has done nothing wrong in her life ever 😭🙏

~~~

taglist~

@notlores @demothers-empty-blog @theyluvbix @archangeldyke-all @prettyinpink69 @beatdariceee @sevikaaaalover @intrnetrbl @ 00valentina-writes00  @zelluna @mamas-evil-hag @sevikassluttywaist @justhereforsubsevika @iliterallyhavenoideawhattosay @lez-zuha @mascdom @tiyawnyana  

[hongjoongspoetry]

LET'S GO, BABY! A FIC FOR MY BIAS MADE BY THE ONE AND ONLY ARI??? Life is looking bright again, the grass is greener, and it’s raining money—Okay, so I was actually going to read your Yunho stories first, buuuuut I couldn’t hold back, and you can’t blame me. Hongjoong’s my bias, what was I supposed to do?

Anyways, I don’t even know where to start. Whenever I read something new of yours, it feels like you outdo your previous work, which is crazy because I always think, “This is it, this is the story!” But then you go ahead and prove me wrong by creating a new masterpiece that won’t leave my head for an X amount of time.

Both the MC and Hongjoong were really interesting characters in this story and for a good chunk into the fic, I didn't know what to think about Hongjoong. He was quite annoying in the beginning with his "know it all" talk and I feel like his attempt at cheering up the MC was so poorly done on his part, like what was he thinking talking sweet to her when another douchebag was already getting on her nerves? 😭

“Don’t we all wish to have a piece of the pretty barista?”

It wasn't even anything remotely nice, he literally talked about her as if she was an object. what is this shitshow of a man? 👹 I also like how you made his appearance give a hint of "I'm a mysterious guy" but he still turned out to be a douche. I feel like in most stories nowadays, the mysterious character is almost always flawless or perfect. They never get to fuck up.

Your eyebrows furrowed as the guy reached for his Cosmo, your fingers brushing together since you hadn’t retracted your hand yet. You ignored how warm his fingers felt, the softness of them as they lightly brushed against yours, “It’s just sad to see talented people waste their lives away in places like this one, you know? I mean, we all go to college to make something of ourselves, but then we end up in a dimly lit and smelly bar, selling alcohol to entitled pricks, forced to listen to their attempts at flirting, or them berating us for ‘not’ doing our job. Sure, it’s honest work, but at the end of the day, when you walk home after an ungodly long shift, you still hate yourself, so…”

Oh, this shit got me fucked up. Lord knows I would've lost my job that night if a customer ever talked to me in that way. Matter of fact, I'd be put on a blacklist and be unemployed for the rest of my life because not only would I jump over the counter, but I'd beat the shit out of him until he wouldn't know the simplicity of the alphabet. And although this made me furious and angry at Hongjoong's character, I still love how you made him into an entitled prick 😭 Like yes, give me something else than the woke artist who thinks good of everyone. Give me a douchebag who wears a million bucks and gives his honest opinion about others, without thinking if he's going to get his ass beaten to a pulp.

“Hey, yesterday…what I said at the bar, I didn’t mean to berate you.” The guy gulped, his eyebrows furrowing as you looked back at him, slightly taken aback to see such sincerity on his face. You’ve never met someone so easily readable before, “My intention wasn’t to hurt you, I was smoked out too so I was just running my mouth, I do that when I’m high, sorry…”

While I love to drag out on the angst, I really enjoyed his apology. It wasn't anything grand, just him owning up to his mistakes and taking responsibility. It makes the story feel a little more like real life, just two adults talking it out.

The guy hummed, a smile slowly appearing on his lips before he took another drag of his cigarette, his eyes boring into yours again, “I’m glad the pretty barista doesn’t hate my guts anymore.”

THE WAY I SCREAMED, LIKE FUUUUUCK!?!?!?!? WE GOT MULLET!JOONG CALLING ME A PRETTY BARISTA?????? THAT's ANOTHER THING — WE GOT MULLET JOONG BACK!!?! He can psycho analazye me all he wants baby- *GUNSHOT*

Ahem... Anyways!

“Humans are easily susceptible, you know? We judge without knowing first, and we rarely apologise and recognise our mistakes. I hate people like that, rude people for no reason too. I don’t stand for all that bullshit, so I’m glad you told me to fuck myself instead of smiling at me like you do with all the other assholes. I appreciate your hard work, we all have to make due somehow and you aren’t less for working in this pub, pretty barista.”

Man, this lil dude really loves running his mouth, doesn't he? Like NO ONE ASKED what you think of people. WHY IS HE LIKE THAT????? But at the same time, I LOVE HIS JOONG VERS. YOU'VE CREATED?!!? He's not plain and boring and all nice, he actually has some color on his canvas.

It's crazy how they haven't exchanged names until much later into the story :0 That's another thing that makes this story so real, their interactions aren't long enough for them to just stop and ask for each other's names, but they aren't that short to not have grown into some form of acquaintances.

“Pretty barista from the pub!”

HE'S SO SMOOTH AND SHAMELESS WITH IT OMG. If a man (hongjoong) would call me that every time we saw each other, I'd be giggling like Lisa Simpsons, WHICH REMINDS ME. WHY IS THIS (0:34) LITERALLY THROUGH YOUR COLORS HONGJOONG?????

“Sorry, I saw you’re buying The Hobbit. It’s a pretty famous reprint, the covers are gorgeous, my best friend is collecting them so I assumed you are too.”

Is this said best friend perhaps Park Seonghwa? 👀

“We can’t smoke weed with closed windows, so it’ll get colder.” Hongjoong suddenly explained, shrugging on a cardigan that looked very soft, “Wear my hoodie, it’ll keep you warm.”

I would call her out for following a stranger home and getting high on his weed, but he gave her his hoodie 🥹🥹 (the bar is in hell, is it not?)

The scene where Hongjoong and MC talk about their "dreams" /goals is so... nice and so real (again). How Hongjoong won't give his art to just anyone mirrors his irl personality too; how they value their works (songs and paintings) and just how much effort is put into it. We can clearly see the moment he "fell" in love with the MC. It wasn't the first night when she served him a Cosmopolitan or when she called him out on his bullshit, no that just caught his attention. The moment he knew MC was the possible one for him was when she saw him through his paintings. The MC subconsciously showed that she could see beyond Hongjoong's exterior and actually understand his soul. It's quite intimate, at least to me it felt like an intimate scene filled with a lot of emotions and to be frank, it's the best type of intimacy I've read in a while.

And perhaps not just in the city, but also in foreign countries while you attended Hongjoong’s art expositions, an expensive bottle of wine waiting for the two of you back at the hotel.

I always say this, but it won't become less of a truth the more times I repeat myself: Your writing is one of a kind. Both your creativity and the ability to come up with amazing ideas that makes the reader yearn for more, and your writing style that gets better and better with each fic/story you publish. You really outdo yourself Ari and I can't wait to see your next project 🩷

Through your colours

Author: bvidzsoo

Pairing: artist!Kim Hongjoong x barista!reader

੭ Warning: recreational drug use (weed), alcohol consumption, swearing ੭ Word count: 11k ੭ Rating: nc-17 ੭ Genre: fluff, angst-ish, slice of life, strangers to lovers, a hint of simp Joong? post university setting ੭ Summary: A broke barista and a broke artist meet in a student infested dingy pub, what do they have in common? The desire to make something great of themselves, to live a fulfilled life. But first impressions can go wrong, deterring people from each other. You're probably lucky that's not how your story with Hongjoong goes, though.

A/N: Hello, hello, my lovelies! I present you another story that was supposed to be a drabble but instead turned into...a smaller oneshot?? I consider anything that's below 15k a drabble because my oneshots just go over 20k all the time, save me! This idea came on a random whim while my pinterest suggested three photos lol, and it took me some time to write it, but it's here at last. Your feedback is greatly appreciated, let me know what you thought of this little story, and I hope you enjoy it! divider

            Gustav Klimt had once, sometime during the nineteenth century, stated that, “Art is a line around your thoughts”. This could be interpreted many ways, of course, but for an artist it was just as plain and simple as Mr Klimt had said. Whatever was on your mind, you could give it life by putting it on a piece of paper by the brush of ink and feather against the parchment, or by the swift twist of one’s wrist as their brush coloured their canvas. Art comes in many forms, many thoughts, and many interpretations. After all, everyone relates to it based by their own experiences, based on the emotions they feel and have felt before…and overall, their capacity of seeing beyond what’s shoved in front of their eyes. Maybe that’s why Hongjoong would stare at a painting or picture for hours on end without growing tired. He liked to see everything, he wanted to understand every stroke of brush, or why the lightning fell in that specific way on the item in the picture. Hongjoong wanted to feel the same emotions the author of the creation had felt while creating their piece. It helped him draw inspiration, expand his horizons towards new possibilities. Hongjoong liked new challenges as long as they were about his art. In life, he preferred the steady and sure lifestyle, the one that was predictable enough that it wouldn’t send him into an existential crisis over the smallest inconvenience.

Hongjoong needed order in his life since his art was all over the place, judged by many and often misunderstood. He didn’t paint just for the fun of it, sure, there were passion projects he started on a whim without much of a goal in mind, and usually those were well received by his professors, by his colleagues. But whenever Hongjoong wanted to say something through his art, he’d get scrutinized for it. He yet had to find that one person that saw beyond what others called a mess. He’s never thrived for attention or validation, but it had gotten lonely after a while when he realised nobody really understood him. He felt like he was the odd one even in a crowd full of odd people. He’d always been different, more open-minded and receptive to the changes in the world, and he’d always been judged for it. Here, instead of being frowned upon due to his character, he was sometimes ignored because his art was either dull or not good enough. Nobody seemed to understand that art is relative and subjective, that whatever lay on the canvas made by Hongjoong was his and would always be. That he had dipped his brush into a touch of colour from his soul, displaying it for the world to see on the once blank canvas. He became vulnerable for them and yet nobody had appreciated it yet. And so, Hongjoong got used to not being seen for his art, but for who he was.

Quirky with questionable fashion taste to many, bold because he wasn’t afraid to try out new styles—much like with his paintings—and intimidating because no matter how many times he tried out something new, he’d instantly make it his, owning whatever concept he had in mind. Hongjoong knew not everyone was against him out there, but it was easy to fall hostage to such thoughts when he was alone. It would make sense for an artist to have a mind clouded by questions and rarely answers, a mind that worked too fast and yet never good enough. Doubts and fears pulling one down, Hongjoong loved expressing it through his paintings, his hand nothing but a guide to the brush clutched tightly between his fingers, calling out to him even when he chose to step away. Hongjoong was in it for life, and he wondered whether the weeping willow tree by the river bank in his framed painting was a premonition for how his life would look like.

            The bar was busy like every other night in this student-infested town. It wasn’t even a surprise anymore, you should have known better than to wear your boots with high heels. There were no seconds to waste and even less time for breaks between preparing drinks, cleaning the bar, and running around the room to clean the tables too. Nobody wanted their hands sticky because someone had previously spilt their drink, and you were more than ready to clock out for the night. The only problem was, however, that you still had three hours left of your shift. You sighed as you averted your eyes from the clock, realising you hadn’t started preparing the drink the drunk college student had asked for on the other side of the bar. His eyes were glossy and he was swaying in his spot, you debated filling his cup with water rather than Vodka, but you couldn’t risk getting a complaint since your boss was a stinky little fucker. Your hands worked fast, and years spent doing this kind of work were showing as you did a few tricks, hoping you’d get a nice tip. You doubted the college guy would leave a huge tip, if anything at all, but at least you tried. It was all about trying in places like this one. Trying to stay calm when a customer was rude, trying to remain sane when night after night the DJ played the same playlist for the drunken students, trying to smile and hide the fact that you hated when these frat boys flirted with you. And also try and hide the fact that you were fed up with people, and needed at least a month away from civilisation.

But if one wanted to achieve something in life, one had to work for it to happen since it wouldn’t fall from the sky. Going abroad and starting a new life over there wasn’t for free, and it especially wouldn’t happen overnight. You were well aware of that, that’s why you were working day and night, taking up shifts that were probably too long to be healthy. But the dream you had in mind demanded such sacrifices, and if it meant working hard right now for a comfortable life in the future, you were willing to spend your nights sleepless and surrounded by annoying college students. You had been like them once, after all, but that was a few years ago, and since then, the harsh reality has awoken you. What was the purpose of a degree you couldn’t do anything with? Yeah, you could’ve laughed at yourself, but then it would soon turn into hysterical crying and you weren’t strong enough to deal with such emotions. You’ve cried enough, it was time you took action now. You sighed as another rush of bodies crowded the bar, asking for shots and long cocktails. You weren’t a fancy place by any means, but you served the usual sweet cocktails that could be found in every other place. Your hands worked fast as you catered to everyone’s likes, your coworker, Hanni, was somewhere lost between the students as she had gone to clean up the tables. And even in your rush, it seemed like you couldn’t satisfy everyone. It shouldn’t have phased you, but you’ve had a rough day today.

“Hey, babe, think you could work those hands faster, maybe?” You ignored the question and smiled as a group of girls paid for their pink cocktails, leaving a bigger tip than most men would. You felt grateful and felt your smile turn genuine when the tallest in the group winked at you before they became part of the rowdy crowd again. Then, you could face your impatient customer. He didn’t look like a student, way too old to be in a crowd filled with students, but who were you to judge? Some people go to college at a later age, maybe he wanted to get the full student experience. Although, you doubted a thirty-year-old had anything in common with young adults on the brink of maturing, if they managed to mature during their upper-level study days.

“What can I get for you?” Your voice was raised since the music was booming, and unfortunately, you also had to lean over the counter to hear the man better. For some reason, that made the man smirk as he leaned forward as well, eyeing you up as if you were a piece of meat. You ignored it as your teeth ground together, you’ve seen men like him before, he wasn’t the first to act like this and you knew he wouldn’t be the last one either.

“How about…you, sugar?” Your expression didn’t budge as his smirk became shit eating as if he had accomplished anything by saying that. You waited, without blinking or reacting to what he’s said, hoping he’d catch on that he wasn’t hilarious nor flirty.

“Don’t we all wish to have a piece of the pretty barista?” That managed to throw you off as your head whipped to the side, eyebrows furrowing as you just now noticed the newcomer. He was…well, something else for sure. He wore no casual or ordinary clothes, nothing you could compare to the annoying frat boys or just the other dudes with a regular fashion sense. His hair was dark but it looked a little fried, as if it had been bleached already one too many times before. His white blouse was loose and tucked in at the waist, his black pants wide and reaching below his ankles. A thick belt was secured around the guy’s petit waist, and if you looked harder, you swore you could see a dark blue bow tied to it. His brown vest seemed to elevate the outfit even more, the pleated brown choker sitting at the base of his throat with a few other silver chains, a ruby pendant hitting his pecks as he was leaning against the counter lazily. His hip was jutted out and his painted nails tapped against the side of his head, cat-like eyes blinking slowly as he watched you. The hat he wore looked something like you’ve only seen in Peaky Blinders, and for a second, you almost chuckled. He looked peculiar but not in a negative sense, it’s just that you haven’t seen someone like him stumble inside the pub before. He didn’t seem to belong with the crowd and that would’ve been something you’d appreciate on any other day than today.

“I don’t think we were talking to you, no?” The cocky man in front of you raised a mocking eyebrow at the other guy, and you rolled your eyes for a second. But before you could answer, the other guy did for you.

“You threatened my game is better than yours?” The artsy-looking guy asked with a chuckle, his tone was more on the higher side, and you found yourself not irked by it too much. But you weren’t here to have men measure their cocks by who can get the barista’s phone number faster, so you interrupted them before they could piss you off even more.

“Listen, fellas, I don’t have all night. What do you want?” Your tone was sharp, straight to the point, and shut down all attempts at flirting as the man in front of you scoffed, shooting a dirty look at the peculiar-looking one. You tilted your head as the older man finally faced you, trying to downplay his irritation as he plastered on a charming smile again. It made your jaw tick again, but you said nothing more.

“Do you have whiskey?” You were already reaching for the bottle of Whiskey before the man was finished talking, your other hand grabbing a glass as Hanni finally returned to the bar, her tray filled with dirty glasses.

“I’ll just wash these and come help.” She said as she passed by you and you nodded, filling the man’s glass with ice and whiskey, not too much but not too little either. Who even drinks Whiskey in a place like this one? But you didn’t care as long as he’d be out of your hair, so you placed the glass on the counter, but before you could tell the guy how much it was, he had already slid a bill on the counter, sauntering away. You grabbed it and pushed it into your fanny pack, taking a step back to take a deep breath. You could do this, Hanni was back and maybe you could ask her to cover for you for five minutes. A bathroom break was allowed at any time, after all. Your small moment, however, was interrupted by a scoff. You blinked your eyes open and looked towards where the sound came from, eyes narrowing when you realised the other guy was still lingering around.

“What a pig, he didn’t even tip you.” You had to agree with his slurred words but instead walked over with an impassive expression. You weren’t here to be nice or to make friends, and you never failed to make it clear to your customers. These entitled dudes thought they could get your number and get in your pants with just a few—fake—nice words, you could confidently say you hated them all and that they made you wish you never again encountered their species. But alas, that wouldn’t happen tonight, so you headed over to the pompous guy, raising an eyebrow. He was intriguing, you couldn’t deny that, but you also knew not to mingle with guys who frequented the pub. So, even if one sparked your interest, at the end of the day, you’d still walk home alone and relish in the quiet of your room.

“What can I get for you?” You tried to keep your tone level as your hip pressed into the counter, feet aching now even more. You were ready to chuck your damn boots at the wall and call it a night, but as Hanni flashed you her typical sweet smile, you knew you couldn’t leave her alone in the wolf's den. She was too sweet and too naïve, smiling and laughing along to the shitty jokes of the frat boys who were eyeing her up with little regard for the fact that she was visibly uncomfortable.

“Something sweet like you.” You closed your eyes and took a deep breath, telling yourself to keep your cool. He wasn’t saying anything offensive, unlike many other men, he just kept calling you sweet and pretty. That could be considered even nice, but not tonight.

“The menu is literally behind me, you can choose anything from it.” You pointed a finger behind yourself, where you knew the menu was hung high on the wall so that everyone could see it. The peculiar guy just gave you a look of confusion before looking past you, blinking his eyes lazily once again. You tapped your fingers against the counter, waiting for his choice, glad that you could take a breather now that nobody was crowding to get their drinks refilled. Hanni whizzed past you when she noticed a smaller group of girls approaching, her smile reaching her ears and already talking to them, beckoning them closer. Hanni was an excellent barista, she kept her customers entertained and always engaged with them…unlike you, but that’s why your duo worked so well. You were the stoic one and she was the sunshine, but you were both quick on your feet so your boss couldn’t complain.

“Uh, I’ll take a Cosmopolitan.” The guy finally decided and you quirked an eyebrow, grabbing the shaker.

“That’s not sweet.” It was unlike you to make conversation, but the words were on the tip of your tongue so you couldn’t ignore them. The guy chuckled, letting his elbows rest on the counter as he placed his chin in his palms. Your eyes raised for a second to look at him, and you were taken aback by how cute he looked. But as he blinked slowly again, a small smile spreading onto his lips as he watched you, you quickly focused your attention on his Cosmo.

“I know, I was just trying to make you feel better.” He sighed, tracing a manicured finger against the dirty counter. You had to clean that too. As you grabbed some olive to stash on a toothpick, you followed his finger with your eyes and noticed the two silver and shiny rings on his finger, his nail done a neon yellow with a black smiley face painted on top of it.

“What do you even know…” You scoffed to yourself, placing the martini glass on the counter for the guy to take. He was still looking at you, his eyes hazy, and you allowed yourself to take in his features. He had a petite and sharp nose, pretty and well-fitting with his sharp jawline and otherwise intimidating eyes if it wasn’t for the smile in them. His lips were more plump than thin with a pretty Cupid’s bow, slightly pouty as he gave you a small frown.

“Well, I bet you don’t plan on wasting your life away here.” The way he spoke had an airy feel to it, as if he wasn’t really thinking before speaking, “And by the looks of it, it seems as if your degree didn’t take you too far as of now, which is not a big deal, people change their minds all the time.”

Your eyebrows furrowed as the guy reached for his Cosmo, your fingers brushing together since you hadn’t retracted your hand yet. You ignored how warm his fingers felt, the softness of them as they lightly brushed against yours, “It’s just sad to see talented people waste their lives away in places like this one, you know? I mean, we all go to college to make something of ourselves, but then we end up in a dimly lit and smelly bar, selling alcohol to entitled pricks, forced to listen to their attempts at flirting, or them berating us for ‘not’ doing our job. Sure, it’s honest work, but at the end of the day, when you walk home after an ungodly long shift, you still hate yourself, so…”

Something in you broke at his last sentence, making you gulp hard. You still hate yourself, the guy had said with the most easy-going expression on his face, a slight smile pulling at his lips as he continued to blink lazily at you. What did he even know when he was clearly wearing designer clothes to a pub where alcohol could be spilt on you, among many other things? Who was he to assume you couldn’t do anything with your degree, rubbing it in your face that he knew people ended up like this when he clearly came from a rich background with all those accessories on him, his tone airy and almost mocking. Your jaw clenched again as you realised you had tears in your eyes, and your hand came down harshly on the counter as the guy slipped a bill towards you, way over the price of his damn Cosmopolitan.

“Go fuck yourself.” You snapped as you threw the change back at him, watching his expression fall, his eyebrows raising comically high. You didn’t sit around to listen to him trying to get your attention again, you brushed past Hanni and leaned down to tell her that you needed five minutes. She gave you a worried look before nodding, letting you head to the bathroom as a few tears spilt down your cheeks. Today was complete shit, you couldn’t wait to get home and ignore all the responsibilities and problems you had. You were doing this for a better future, this was just a small fragment of your life, and it wouldn’t last forever. At least you really hoped so.

            You released a long sigh as the cool air hit your face, eyes stinging from the sudden coldness as the red backdoor slammed shut behind you. Hanni and you kept telling your boss to change the hinges, but he had more important things to take care of, of course. Stepping aside so that the door wouldn’t slam into your back if any staff member decided to come outside at this moment, you leaned against the cold wall, pushing your hands into your pockets. You didn’t bother grabbing your jacket, although you should have given the fact that your skin was now covered in goosebumps, teeth slightly chattering. It was always a whiplash coming outside from that parched pub, having to forcefully push through the bodies too busy to notice your approaching form. It was another busy night, the weekend was approaching so the students were coming in waves that the pub could barely house. You’ve been telling your boss that you should put a capacity limit, but he wouldn’t make as much money like that as he was making now, so of course, he said no. He was a greedy monster and he didn’t even try to hide it.

Just as you closed your eyes, you heard a loud tsk followed by a hiss, and your head jerked to the side, your eyes widening. You hadn’t realised there was someone else here with you, too taken by your own thoughts of wondering what you’d cook for dinner…if you make it home at a decent hour, which was looking less and less likely to be. With your eyes narrowed and head turned, you tried to find the source where the sound had come from, eyebrows furrowing when you noticed someone crouched down right by the door, their head lowered over their knees. It wasn’t your business what anyone was doing, really, but if a client was feeling unwell and would need assistance, you’d feel guilty if you just walked away without a word. So, sighing to yourself, you pushed off the wall and took a few steps to approach the person, eyes taking in the black messy curls on the top of his head. The person had a baby mullet growing out, framing his pale nape. You cleared your throat and reached down, gently poking at the guy’s shoulder.

“Hey, you good?” You asked unsure, eyebrows furrowing when the guy grunted only. Tilting your head, you realised he was shielding his left hand, his right thumb trying to roll the sparkwheel of his lighter, but to no avail.

“Yeah, this bloody thing won’t work.” The guy groaned, shaking his lighter as he tilted his head back, a hand-rolled cigarette hanging between his lips. Your eyes widened as you realised the face was familiar, having seen him just yesterday. The guy’s eyes looked innocent as they rounded, recognition flashing in his too. You gulped and straightened up, your expression slightly hardening as the guy’s harsh words from yesterday rang through your ears. He seemed pretty fine to you, but before you could step aside and go back inside, he spoke up.

“Hi there, pretty barista.” He then grinned, a lazy pull of his cherry-red lips, his tone easy. You didn’t expect him to be so easy-going after what you had said to him, but it almost looked like the guy wasn’t bothered by you cursing him out…maybe he really wasn’t, “You on a break?”

You crossed your arms in front of your chest, watching as he struggled to get his lighter to work. You had one in your pocket, but you found a bit of satisfaction in watching him struggle. Maybe if he asked whether you had one, you’d let him use yours. But people who didn’t ask wouldn’t get help, that’s what your father taught you, at least.

“Obviously.” You muttered matter of fact as the guy hummed, grinning wickedly when the lighter finally sparked to life, allowing him to light his cigarette. You watched as the flame danced in front of his face, making his dark eyes appear amber-like, sharper from this angle. You realised, alarmed, that you were appreciating his looks so you quickly stopped, looking away as the guy puffed out a whiff of smoke.

“You want some?” The guy asked, reaching his hand toward you as you eyed the cigarette, its smell hitting you. It was too herbal to be a normal cigarette, you belatedly realised as you watched the guy take another hit of his joint.

“What’s in it?” You decided to ask, just to make sure. If you were wrong and it was a regular cigarette, maybe you’d accept a smoke. You didn’t usually smoke but you were still tired from yesterday’s shift, and something that could loosen your nerves would be highly appreciated.

“Good stuff.” The guy grinned, giggling even a little, and the sound almost put a smile on your lips, but you caught yourself in time and instead shook your head, pushing your hands into your pockets again.

“I’m working, so, no.” The guy just hummed as he looked up at you again, taking a drag of his joint as you gulped and everted your eyes. It felt like he was gazing right through you and into your soul as your eyes had met, and given the fact that you were still butt-hurt over what he had said to you yesterday, you refused to look at him too long…you’d only admire his beauty, either way. He wore a fuzzy yellow and pink sweater today, his brown dress pants looking way too thin for this weather, but the guy didn’t seem to mind. His nails stood out with their unique design, and he wore fewer rings today but more earrings than yesterday.

“Hey, yesterday…what I said at the bar, I didn’t mean to berate you.” The guy gulped, his eyebrows furrowing as you looked back at him, slightly taken aback to see such sincerity on his face. You’ve never met someone so easily readable before, “My intention wasn’t to hurt you, I was smoked out too so I was just running my mouth, I do that when I’m high, sorry…”

A beat of silence passed as the two of you shared an apprehensive look, making you bite your bottom lip. You cleared your throat and at last averted your eyes, kicking a few pebbles towards the guy without meaning to, “Right, I shouldn’t have cursed you out either…I’m sorry too, I guess.”

The guy hummed, a smile slowly appearing on his lips before he took another drag of his cigarette, his eyes boring into yours again, “I’m glad the pretty barista doesn’t hate my guts anymore.”

You have no idea what took over you, but your cheeks were suddenly flushing as if you had been noticed by your crush for the first time, your skin prickling. You weren’t one to care about the compliments your clients gave since most of them were only trying to get in your pants, but this guy seemed to be genuine. He didn’t try to hit on you, he was just calling you pretty, and it was getting to you. You hummed and turned towards the door, hand reaching out for the knob when suddenly the guy spoke again, “Humans are easily susceptible, you know? We judge without knowing first, and we rarely apologise and recognise our mistakes. I hate people like that, rude people for no reason too. I don’t stand for all that bullshit, so I’m glad you told me to fuck myself instead of smiling at me like you do with all the other assholes. I appreciate your hard work, we all have to make due somehow and you aren’t less for working in this pub, pretty barista.”

There he was again, making your chest feel heavy as you huffed, a sarcastic smile pulling at your lips. Once again, what did he know about you? Maybe you loved this damned job, maybe being a barista in a shitty pub has been your lifelong dream. You almost scoffed at yourself, eyes narrowing as the guy took more drags of his joint, seemingly waiting for an answer that you didn’t exactly want to give. But you didn’t want him to have the last word, much like yesterday, so you plastered on a sarcastic smirk, “There you go again, blabbering your mouth when you’re smoked out.”

You didn’t expect the guy to start laughing loudly, his head falling back as it landed against the wall, his eyes crinkling at the corners. You didn’t mean to gape, but he was beautiful and painfully honest, it was refreshing in a world full of fakeness. He was an intriguing person, and you would’ve allowed yourself to become interested in him if only you had met in a different setting. With a hum and lingering eyes, you pushed the door open as the guy nodded at you in goodbye once he realised you were leaving for good. And with a faster beating heart, you willed yourself to focus on the few hours that you still had of your shift.

            It’s been quite a while since you had the chance to wake up at the crack of dawn without feeling tired, or without having to rush in for an early shift. Through hard work, you had earned these two days of break, and while you wished you had been given a full week, you made sure to utilise these two days wisely. You had always been an early bird, wishing to wake with the sun, opening your windows to hear the song of the birds, but it was too cold for them to hunker down in front of your window today. You didn’t mind, you’d take a stroll after your breakfast and check out the new art store that’s opened not too far from your apartment. You’ve heard great things about it, the prices seemed to be reasonable, and it had an adjoint bookstore and a coffee shop as well. A quick check on the internet showed you just how cozy it was, so you thought you could buy a book from your to read list and settle down in the coffee shop. It sounded like a great plan to destress and forget for a bit about work and all the idiots that kept you up at night, quite literally.

Your scarf was thick as you buried your nose into it, trying to keep it warm from the cold chill of the early morning. The city was awake with you, orange sun rising on the horizon and blinding you as you were walking towards it, you couldn’t help but smile. It warmed your cheeks and body, feeling the sun on your skin during cold season always felt like a blessing, you would always relish in it as much as you could because you knew it wouldn’t last for long. You exhaled as your eyes remained squinted, watching the people around you as you walked towards your destination. Kids were rushing to school, parents by their sides guiding them, and traffic was as crazy as ever, impatient drivers honking and disturbing the little peace everyone had. You paid it no mind and felt thankful that you were able to wake up so early instead of just going to bed, all tired and wishing for your boss to fire you. But if he did fire you, you would be in trouble, so you didn’t actually wish for that to happen. And suddenly as you turned the corner, the guy’s words from the bar managed to ring through your ears once again. Working at the pub was just as much of an honest job as it would’ve been working anywhere else.

You sighed, realising you were thinking about him again. You’ve been doing this a lot lately, letting your mind wander to his peculiar fashion sense and even more peculiar way of thinking. He seemed almost raw with his words and thoughts, unafraid to say them to your face. It was refreshing and intriguing, but you couldn’t let yourself be sidetracked right now. You had a purpose, and that was working until you had enough money to move away. If somehow a guy came into the picture right now, you felt like that would mess up all your plans and vision of the future. Under no circumstance would you stay here, but you knew your heart would betray you and try to keep you here for longer, with your lover. You didn’t even want to think of the guy as a potential love interest, you didn’t even know each other, so you shoved these thoughts to the back of your mind as you reached the art store, eyes widening at its exterior.

You haven’t seen anything quite like it before, the windows reached from ceiling to floor, a clear view of what was going on inside. There was a spiral staircase that led to the higher level which was littered with bookcases and low hanging retro chandeliers, bean bags spaced out on the floor as people sat around with books in their hands. To the right was the coffee shop with a separate entrance if you were only here for coffee, but you could also enter through the art store. And the art store was gorgeous as you made your way inside, the double doors opening easily. A sweet scent hit your nostrils as you walked further inside, your eyes wide as you took in the whole place. Paintings were hung on the walls, blank canvas placed underneath as many shelves housed all kinds of art supplies. The clerks were all smiley and they welcomed you warmly once they noticed your arrival. Maybe you could find a nicer workplace, something like this one. The workload seemed less strenuous and the people that came here to shop were less rowdy and rude. As much as you loved admiring the fine arts, you didn’t have the talent for drawing or painting, you could mess up even something as simple as a cloud. It was embarrassing, but arts have never been your forte, so you headed for the staircase to look for the book you had on your mind.

Navigating around the many shelves seemed a bit intimidating at first, but then you noticed they were sectioned on different genres, the tags hanging low from the ceiling with an arrow pointing towards the section to help you out. You smiled to yourself as you unrolled your scarf from around your neck, the warmth of the store helping your frozen fingers as you turned down a corner, two tall bookshelves on your sides. At the end of the row sat a younger girl with a manga in her hand, another one pressed to her lips as she seemed to be giggling. You felt yourself smile as you came near her, looking at the titles of the books. Asking for a clerk to help you find the book you were looking for would’ve helped enormously, but you found yourself wanting to stroll around in the warmth, fingers grazing the spines of the books. The girl giggled just a bit louder and blushed when you glanced her way. This wasn’t a library, so she wasn’t disturbing anyone, but she was still mindful of those around her. You turned the corner once again, finding the High Fantasy section, having made your research beforehand, you knew you were in the right place. It took a bit more cruising down the row to finally find the book you were looking for, and you grinned when you found it, taking it off the shelf.

You thought about strolling around the store more just to discover it further, maybe they had cheap trinkets you could buy. You even thought about paying a visit the coffee shop as well, maybe they had one of your favourite patisserie delicacies. You wouldn’t turn down something sweet right now, you didn’t have a sweet tooth necessarily, but there were days when your cravings got the better of you. With that in mind, you headed back the way you had come, sneaking another glance at the younger girl as she gasped, manga now clutched tightly in both of her hands. You chuckled before you rounded the corner, now back on the main aisle that led to the spiral staircase. You noticed that most people who were inside the store looked to be college students, their outfits mismatched colours and patterns, hair coloured something vibrant as most of them had piercings you never even thought possible before. You really liked their style and found yourself staring at them, blushing when a girl caught you and raised an eyebrow before she smiled. You nodded your head and hurried down the stairs, flustered and a little embarrassed. They oddly reminded you of the guy from the bar, you thought he’d somehow fit right in with the people inside the store. It looked something he’d enjoy, not that you knew anything about him besides that he smoked weed, wasn’t afraid to speak his mind, and had a nice sense of fashion.

You were looking at the hard cover of your book as you got to the base of the staircase, taken by the pretty illustration and completely unaware that someone was headed straight towards you, just as taken by items in his hands as you were by your book. The collision could’ve been avoided if you both had been paying attention to where you were going, but alas, you gasped loudly as you felt a hard body collide into yours, items spilling loudly onto the floor. Your head shoot up, eyes wide as you looked at the equally startled man and—wait, it was the same guy from the bar! You gulped, suddenly feeling nervous as your cheeks burned, but the guy hadn’t noticed you yet as he had crouched down to collect his items off the floor. You felt bad and hoped the expensive palette on the ground hadn’t been broken, so you crouched down too and reached for it to inspect it. The guy still hadn’t quite noticed that it was you out of all people, but as you reached for the same brush, his head raised sharply. Your smile was apologetic as the guy’s eyes widened, recognition flashing on his face. This was the third time you met this week, the sheer coincidence of meeting outside the pub was a bit jarring…especially since you’ve been just thinking about him.

“Pretty barista from the pub!” He motioned towards you then chuckled, letting you pick up the brush. Your book was placed on the ground next to you so your hands were free to help.

“Hi,” Your voice came out a lot shier than you had intended it to be, and you chewed on your bottom lip awkwardly, “Sorry about this, I wasn’t looking where I was going.”

“Don’t worry,” The guy chuckled, scooping up the small canvases, “I wasn’t either. If it makes you feel better, it was both of our faults.”

You hummed and grabbed the last item off the floor, standing at the same time as the guy. His arms were filled with his items, and you wondered if you handed over the four in your hands how he’d be able to carry everything. Despite the cold weather outside, he was underdressed. He wore a simple turtleneck with a brown knitted vest over it, long flowy plants and mismatched tennis shoes. As you both stepped aside from the staircase to make way for others, you cleared your throat and averted your eyes once you realised you were staring again. But you hadn’t seen him wearing glasses before, and with the curly strands falling over his forehead, he didn’t only look handsome but cute as well.

“What brings you here?” The guy made conversation as you tried to figure out how to hand him his items without making him drop them all again, “I say this without meaning to be rude, but you seem like the last person who’d be interested in art.”

You huffed, not bothered by his honesty, “While that statement is incorrect, I’m not here due to the art section of the store. I was looking for a book.”

“Right!” He exclaimed, glancing down at his own chest, “Oh, sorry, you can hand me those, I can carry them!”

“Are you sure?” You asked as he nodded enthusiastically, so you complied. You stepped closer to place the other four items in his arms, watching as he clinched the smaller canvas underneath his chin to keep it from falling. You would’ve laughed and offered to help until he got himself a bag or something, but the guy looked pretty content like this. Like it wasn’t his first time doing this…

“Are you collecting them?” The guy’s incomplete question left you raising a confused eyebrow at him, “Sorry, I saw you’re buying The Hobbit. It’s a pretty famous reprint, the covers are gorgeous, my best friend is collecting them so I assumed you are too.”

You glanced down at the book in your hand and bit your bottom lip, trying to brush off your embarrassment. Why were you feeling like this all of a sudden? It made no sense, but you didn’t want to leave a bad impression on the guy…even though his perception of you might already be fucked since this wasn’t your first time meeting.

“I’ve, uh, so, uhm, I have a to read list for books I’ve never read while growing up, so now I have a little tradition that I buy a book from the list each month and read it.” You spoke quickly, avoiding eye contact as the guy listened to your ramble. His intake of breath was sharp and you chanced a glance at his face, finding his eyes wide and his mouth rounded.

“Wait. Are you saying you haven’t read The Hobbit before?!” He sounded incredulous and alarmed, and your cheeks grew hot once again, actually managing to sour your mood a bit. Not having read the book didn’t make you less by any means, but you had a feeling this guy was well-versed in literature, so it felt like a jab and even a subtle scrutinising.

“Yeah, not everyone likes reading while growing up…” Your tone grew cold and voice snappish as you continued to avoid eye contact, looking towards the front desk so that maybe the guy would get the hint that you were done with this conversation. But it didn’t actually surprise you that he continued speaking without noticing you didn’t want to keep conversing anymore.

“That’s totally cool, my brother hated comic books growing up and now he’s obsessed with them.” The guy chuckled, expression innocent and tone genuinely excited, “I think you’ll love the book, it’s filled with adventure and otherworldly creatures. It’s a nice step back from our grim reality, I feel like you need that right now.”

Okay, there he was assuming again that he could just…psychoanalyse you or whatever, “Can you stop doing that? I’m not a painting you can interpret to your liking.”

The guy blinked, face going blank before his cheeks flushed, his gaze averted now from yours, “I…have I been doing it all this time?”

“Ever since we’ve met.” Your answer was sharp and quick and the guy blushed even more.

“Oh, sorry, I just…I’ll stop doing that,” Then he smiled awkwardly and held eye contact with you, “I’m Hongjoong, by the way, I don’t remember introducing myself.”

Because he hadn’t. You repeated his name in your head, finding yourself liking the sound of it, it seemed like a fitting name for him. You hummed, extending your hand.

“I’m Y/N.” But you and Hongjoong glanced down at your extended hand and then his occupied ones at the same time, chuckles leaving your mouths as he seemed flustered.

“I’m shake your hand the next time we see other.”

“If there will be a next time.”

“I quite like the pub you work at, pretty barista.” You cleared your throat and avoided looking at him because as corny as it was, it kind of made your heart flutter. What was happening? The chiming of the doorbell reminded you that it was time you left and took care of other errands you had in your schedule, but before you could say goodbye to Hongjoong, he asked a question that took you off guard, “Wanna grab a cup of coffee with me?”

Then he turned sideways, nodding towards the adjoined café, and you hesitated for a second. You could actually slip in a little time to have coffee with him, but you felt reluctant. You had met him at the pub, after all, and you still couldn’t decide what type of person he was. Of course, he was handsome, and so far, has showed a good character, but there were little moments when he somehow managed to ruin everything with his words. And he was still a complete stranger, so, listening to your rational mind, you slowly shook your head.

“I don’t like coffee, but thanks!” Your smile was easy, Hongjoong’s face morphed into something knowing as he hummed with a nod.

“Sure, I’m glad I caught you here.” Then, as you were about to take off, he added, “The pretty barista now has a name, I can say my morning was successful.”

You tried to huff and look irked, but the blush betrayed you. You just shook your head before heading for the front desk, “Goodbye, Hongjoong.”

“See ya!” His smile was radiant as he turned around and headed for the café instead, and you realised he was underdressed because he had come from the coffee shop, his things already there. And with Hongjoong on your mind, you followed his distinctive walk as he sauntered over to his table with an elegancy yet swagger you hadn’t seen before.

            Now, a week ago you probably would have said no to a preposition that involved you following home a complete stranger whose name you had known for a maximum of four days, but tonight had been literal shit and you were on the verge of tears when Hongjoong had sauntered over to the bar, his Chesire like smile blinding. You had one more hour left of your shift and you’d be clocking out, not even staying behind to help Hani clean up. Your cramps were terrible and a guy who hit on you for the whole night had spilt his drink on your favourite blouse, calling you a bitch as well for shunning him away, so, when you saw Hongjoong approach the bar with mischief in his eyes, you were ready to scream at him and tell him to get lost. Except that you didn’t do all that because his question completely threw you off guard.

“Y/N, do you like art?” He had a rolled-up joint resting at his ear, his hair pulled to the side and clipped back with colourful hair clips. Your laugh that bubbled past your lips sounded incredulous and tired, but you nodded.

“I do, do you want something to drink?” Hongjoong shook his head, leaning across the bar despite it being wet from spilt alcohol.

“When does your shift end?”

“In an hour.”

“Wanna see some of my art?” Then Hongjoong grinned, looking proud of himself, “I’m a painter.”

Something came over you and didn’t even let you ponder over your decision, “Do you have weed?”

The answer was obvious as you glanced at the joint and Hongjoong laughed, tilting his head in a way that sharpened his features under the neon lights of the pub.

“Obviously, got some on me right now. Want some?” Not while you were working, afterwards, however, you were free to do whatever.

“After my shift, yeah.”

“Cool, I’ll meet you in the back. See ya.”

And that’s how you ended up at Hongjoong’s apartment, not even ten minutes away from the pub. Your feet ached and your cramps were so bad you felt like doubling over and emptying your already empty stomach, but you tried to hold yourself together in front of Hongjoong. There was a nervous flutter in your chest as you had followed him up the steel staircase, the building old and dodgy. However, the second you walked inside his studio apartment, it felt like you had entered a different realm. He was the true definition of an artist, you came to realise, with canvas strewn around the apartment, most finished but some blank, oil paint tainting the wooden floor and even the walls. The colours were neutral, beige with a slip of sage green here and there, the curtains sheer and pulled to the side as Hongjoong hurried over to the windows to push them open. There was an earthy smell in the air mixed with something sweet like vanilla, and you couldn’t help but marvel at the cosiness of Hongjoong’s studio. You recognised a few prints on the walls, they were the paintings of well-known painters who no longer lived, and the décor Hongjoong had used was rather vintage than modern. His huge wardrobe was open, and he pushed the door closed with little care as he picked up a hoodie off the floor. You were surprised he even owned one of those.

You flinched when it collided against your head, confused as to why he had thrown it at you. Hongjoong chuckled as he shrugged his coat off, trying to tidy his messy bed but quickly giving up when he realised you didn’t look like you cared. Truthfully, your apartment wasn’t in a better shape, the dishes in the sink had been there for three days and your bathroom was in dire need of a deep clean.

“We can’t smoke weed with closed windows, so it’ll get colder.” Hongjoong suddenly explained, shrugging on a cardigan that looked very soft, “Wear my hoodie, it’ll keep you warm.”

You hummed, glancing down at it before you stepped out of your shoes, shrugging your jacket off and wearing the hoodie. Its scent was sweet but potent with something musky, and you blushed as your nose buried into its fabric, drinking in its soft material.

“Make yourself feel at home!” Hongjoong grinned, walking over to the small kitchen section to grab two cups, “Do you want tea?”

You shook your head as you walked towards the small bean bag, pushing it with your leg to try and get it more gathered together. And then, just as you were about to sink into the chair, you heard a faint sound come from the kitchen. You turned your head and were met with a small black creature blinking at you in wonder.

“You have a cat?” You asked in surprise, staring back at the little pet. Hongjoong chuckled, looking down at his pet as the electric kettle started whistling.

“Is it so surprising? I found him near a dumpster a few years ago, he’s been by my side ever since.” You couldn’t help but gaze at Hongjoong with admiration as he spoke, pouring hot water into his cup for the tea, “His name is Woo ‘cuz he reminds me of my friend. They are both rascals and really loud.”

As if on cue, the cat meowed loudly and you chuckled, finally easing yourself into the bean bag. Your lower back protested and your spine cracked as you allowed yourself to lean back, arching your back. You could’ve cried at the relief, thankful to finally be off your feet. You couldn’t wait for the weed, it would dull your cramps and help you ease up after the day you’ve had. You were probably in dire need of a shower since you smelled like alcohol, but you didn’t feel comfortable showering at a guy’s place you barely knew. Which, now that you thought more about it, realisation started setting in. You weren’t too smart for following Hongjoong home, but he had never creeped you out, so you decided to give him the benefit of the doubt tonight. You stared at the cat as Hongjoong mixed honey into his berry-flavoured tea, the warm mist hogging up his glasses. The cat, still at Hongjoong’s side, stared back at you and then slowly walked towards you, its head tilted in wonder. You smiled at it and let it smell your fingers, taking you off guard when it unceremoniously climbed into your lap, starting to make biscuits against your lower abdomen.

“Ah, of course, you’re already in the lap of the pretty barista.” Hongjoong mused with an amused smile on his lips, “You take after Wooyoung more than one would think.”

You had no idea who this Wooyoung guy was, but it sounded like he was a flirt if Hongjoong wasn’t bluffing.

“I like your apartment,” You blurted out as you started petting the cat, smiling down at it when it started purring, “It’s got character, much like you.”

“That’s the first time you said something completely honest to me.” Your eyebrows furrowed as you looked up at Hongjoong, the joint from his ear now gone as he grabbed some matches to light it up. You didn’t think that was true, but you didn’t say anything as Hongjoong came nearer, sitting down on the floor across from you. You looked at him as he took a long whiff of his joint, then extended his arm for you to take the weed. It’s been quite a while since you smoked any, you knew it would hit you faster, but you hoped it wasn’t too strong or you’d become sick. You took a careful drag of it as Woo settled into a slumber in your lap, and the earthy taste of it made you grimace. But you kept the smoke in your lungs for a bit before exhaling, taking another drag as Hongjoong watched you with a lazy smile. He looked so…handsome. You’ve had a few days to yourself to think about Hongjoong after your encounter in the art store, and you realised you were attracted to him. It was mostly physical since you liked his looks, but his brutally honest character also had you intrigued even if you’d get offended at times by what he was saying.

“I find it hilarious that you decided to come home with me after you declined to have coffee.” Your eyes met Hongjoong’s quickly just as you were about to hand over the joint, “Do you really don’t drink coffee? Or did you just want to get rid of me that day?”

“I…” You licked your lips as Hongjoong took the joint from you, grinning as he took a long drag once again, “Both, actually. I just…I don’t know you well enough and we’ve also met at the pub, I don’t like meddling with clients. Those frat boys are horny and only want to sleep with me.”

“Good thing I’m not a frat boy then, right, Woo?” Hongjoong grinned and ruffled the slumbering cat’s fur, looking back at you with an understanding look, “I’ll be done with my master’s degree in just a few months.”

You hummed, picking at the sleeve of Hongjoong’s hoodie before you saw the joint handed to you again, “And after that? What do you plan on doing?”

Suddenly, Hongjoong had a pensive look on his face as he leaned back on his arms, staring up at the ceiling. You took shorter drags of the joint now but kept the smoke in your lungs until it started burning.

“I want to travel the world, visit art galleries and drink a lot of expensive wine.” That didn’t sound bad at all, Hongjoong continued before you could tell him, “It’s hard breaking into the industry as a painter even though some realtors have already approached me to buy my paintings and put them on display.”

“And? What did you say to them?” You felt genuinely curious, the cat sighed loudly in your lap and Hongjoong looked at you two, reaching out for the joint. Your fingertips brushed together and Hongjoong’s hands felt too cold, but you didn’t comment on it.

“I turned them down,” Hongjoong smiled, but it looked almost sad before he shrugged, taking a drag, “I don’t want just anyone owning my creations. I want someone who understands what’s on that canvas to contact me, I want someone who genuinely loves art and isn’t just doing it for the money. It’s hard to find people like that nowadays, but I’m willing to wait as long as it takes…even if that makes me broke.”

Hongjoong scoffed out a chuckle, sounding bitter by the end of his sentence. For someone who was so good at reading others and commenting on their lives, Hongjoong seemed to be having his own demons he had to fight. You hummed, closing your eyes for a second as you felt your muscles ease up, your cramps less torturous. You were glad the weed was slowly kicking in, your cramps would’ve had you crying if not.

“So how do you plan on travelling if you have no money?” Maybe the question was insensitive, but you were curious. Hongjoong didn’t take offence as he smiled, looking at you with sparkling eyes.

“There are art courses all around the world, I might sign up for one and leave, never look back…”

“Do you hate it here?” The question tumbled past your lips before you could stop yourself, “Because I don’t.”

Hongjoong didn’t look surprised as he nodded, handing back the joint so you could finish it. Three drags and it would be gone, so you took your time savouring it.

“It’s not the worst, but I don’t see much of a future for myself here.” So, Hongjoong was just like you then, “When are you leaving?”

“How did you know?” You sounded shocked as Hongjoong shrugged, averting his eyes.

“You and I are rather similar, you just fail to see it, Y/N.” Well, maybe he was right, maybe he wasn’t. You couldn’t read Hongjoong as well as he could read you, you needed more time to feel out his character.

“Six months and I’m out of here, never to come back if life’s kind to me.” Your voice was quiet as you didn’t look at Hongjoong, smoke wafting through your lips as you finished the joint. Hongjoong hummed, a low and warm sound, as he reached for the stud to take it from you. Your fingers brushed together once again, and you looked at Hongjoong when he held your wrist.

“You’re stronger than you think, you’ll make it big out there, Y/N, have more faith in yourself.” You found yourself smiling now, head a little hazy as you nodded, finding it easier to believe whatever Hongjoong told you.

“You’re the artist between the two of us, you’re the one supposed to make it big.” Hongjoong chuckled and stood, headed for the kitchen.

“Can’t we both make it big?” He raised an eyebrow as he threw the stud away, turning around to face you. You hummed, not entirely agreeing with him, but you decided to nod. Then, Hongjoong turned towards where his bed was and grinned, “You’re here to see some art, no?”

“Right, I almost forgot about that.” Hongjoong chuckled, then beckoned you over. You grabbed the cat in your lap and pressed a kiss against its small head, placing it on the bean bag in your spot. Your feet felt light as you headed towards Hongjoong, who had sauntered over to the desk pressed up against the wall underneath the open windows. He turned the small lamp on, and suddenly you were looking at small canvases filled with colour and abstract shapes. Somehow they looked like an organised mess, even in the overflowing swirl of colours, you managed to find a pattern that seemed to never end like a loop. You turned your head to look at Hongjoong, and suddenly you realised his art was a perfect reflection of who he was.

“I can tell you made these.” Perhaps phrasing it like that was offensive, but Hongjoong only looked curious. He hummed, raising an eyebrow.

“How come?” His voice was quiet, curious.

“I can see you in these.” You pointed at the canvas with orange and yellow as the more prominent colours, circling a deep blue that looked almost black, “The blue is you at your core, dark and perhaps scared of the world. And then all that orange and yellow? I think that’s how you see the world, how you wish it treated you, hoping it would lighten all that darkness that looms over you all the time. And this one? I wonder if it was a coincidence you hid so many infinity symbols in the background, this burgundy is gorgeous, by the way. I think everyone is afraid of disappearing without leaving a trace of themselves in this fucked up world, and I actually…I admire you for being so honest and straightforward, very few people are like you.”

Hongjoong’s eyebrows were furrowed the longer you spoke, but he remained silent as you smiled, looking down at the white canvas, unfinished but with light blue swirls creating the illusion of a clear sky, “I wonder what this will turn into. So far, it reminds me of serenity, of the calm before a storm. Life’s like that too, don’t you think? It’s quiet and gentle, and then it turns into a scary thing that can destroy us if we let it.”

Hongjoong just gulped, his eyes clouded but his heart racing. He was positive no one had been able to interpret his art for what it was before, and he wondered how much of him you could see through his eyes if you could read so well what the trail of his brush had left on a blank canvas. It made him feel seen like never before, not even his biggest supporter, Wooyoung, could see beyond Hongjoong’s intentions when he sat down to paint, to tell the world his pain and rage, yearning for someone to just finally see him.

“You’re…” Hongjoong gulped, his throat feeling dry as you smiled at him, curious if you’d been right, “You are a person I should cherish more from now on.”

Your eyebrows raised in surprise, your heart skipping a beat once again. What did he mean by saying that? You wanted to ask, but Hongjoong stepped closer, his tone breathy as he spoke up again, “‘Whoever wants to know something about me – as an artist which alone is significant – they should look attentively at my pictures and there seek to recognize what I am and what I want’…that’s what Gustav Klimt once said. And so far, you are the only person who’s managed to do that.”

Your mouth gaped open, and you both heard Woo stretch and meow loudly, his soft footsteps loud as he walked towards Hongjoong’s bed, jumping up and finding a new spot to sleep. You didn’t know what to say back to that, but you felt your heart race as your cheeks flushed, shy all of a sudden. Hongjoong was looking at you with a softness no man has looked at you with, it was a bit hard to take it all in without freaking yourself out that this wasn’t real, that it was just the weed, or that maybe Hongjoong wasn’t as genuine as his expression showed.

“Y/N,” You didn’t flinch when his hand wrapped around your wrist, his tone still soft, “I think you already know that I find you pretty, and I…I might have gone to that dingy pub for so long just to see you, actually.”

Those words had your heart racing even wilder as you looked up, finding Hongjoong’s face closer to yours as his eyes now bore into yours, “I should’ve been more specific when I asked you to have coffee with me. I meant to ask you out on a date, but I panicked because I knew I had slightly upset you, but…”

He gulped nervously and you felt so curious to hear what more he had to say, perhaps a smile would encourage him, so that’s what you did, offered him a small friendly smile. He released a breath and cleared his throat, his hand slipping from your wrist to your hand, “Can I kiss you?”

If this was anyone else but Hongjoong, your answer would have been an instant no. But the longer you looked into his eyes, the more excited and giddy you felt, so you just nodded your head and licked your lips, trying to ignore the deep flush of your cheeks. Hongjoong chuckled, suddenly looking shy, but he started leaning in, his eyes fluttering closed just as your lips met. It was careful, it was sweet and it made your heart roar as you stepped just a bit closer, your noses brushing together as your lips moved slowly and carefully, mostly just testing out the waters. Hongjoong’s lips were soft and sweet, and surprisingly didn’t taste like weed but like peaches. You wondered if he used any sort of lip balm to have them taste like that. His hand settled on your cheek and he gently caressed your cheekbone with his thumb, making your heart roar once again. It’s been long since someone had treated you with such gentleness, and you told yourself to remain level-headed, but it would be just so easy to fall in love with Hongjoong. You couldn’t help but smile as you two pulled apart, Hongjoong tried to hide his own grin as he sucked his lips together, but his eyes gave him away. You chuckled and he giggled, and suddenly you felt the urge to pull him into a hug.

“So,” He cleared his throat as he let his arms rest around your torso loosely, “If you don’t like coffee, what do you like?”

“Delicious cakes.” You didn’t hesitate to answer and Hongjoong chuckled, patting your head.

“Well then, would you like to go on a delicious cake-hunting date with me?” You closed your eyes to contain your excitement, but the weed had not only eased your muscles but your always worrying mind as well.

“Yes!” You didn’t mean to squeal, but it was hard not to when Hongjoong startled giggling sweetly once again, nodding his head.

“Good, I’ll make sure we find the best spots in the city then.”

And perhaps not just in the city, but also in foreign countries while you attended Hongjoong’s art expositions, an expensive bottle of wine waiting for the two of you back at the hotel.

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[lohotine]

``Truth is the most important virtue.``

Pure Vanilla x Reader

CW; Some religious tones (brief mention of the existence of a god, comparing Pure Vanilla to an angel), Disturbing discriptions (gore, though only as a discptor of how the reader feels.) Angst, unorganized writing

Adorned in whites akin to glistening stars, accompanied by the warmest of jasmine and the brightest of gold;

With every breath comes a feint melody and a silent song only angels would be able to hear.

Many have asked themselves;

What is divinity?

And as he stands before you, otherworldly and opulent, you begin to whisper, and one word falls from your lips;

"This."

A being, mayhap too pure for this world, gifting everyone the ultimate acuity.

Are people deserving of him?

No matter what your answer is, he remains here, giving his heart out to anyone and everyone, whether they are in need of it or not.

His voice; a choir

His touch; soft, as his fingers gently cup your face. They are like feathers, and they gently wipe away your tears.

Tears that look like pearls, or maybe even diamonds, as they prick the corners of your eyes.

You think it ironic how the gods created tears to be made out of both water and salt;

Two things that suposedly give life to people.

Yet, you are not sad

Far from it, actually.

Because you are with him.

And you ask;

Would you let me dwell forever by your side?

And though Pure Vanilla would hate to break the heart you've so graciously shown him; he simply cannot accept it.

A prayer you hope with the entirety of your being- body and soul and mind- that he'd be able to return.

To not love you fully would be like not loving you at all; at least in his eyes.

And he can not devote himself to you in the way you would for him.

Because he does not want the others to be dammed simply because he loves you.

And so he responds;

I'm sorry, but I can't love you in the way you hope for me to.

And because Pure Vanilla loves everyone; he can't love anyone.

Because Pure Vanilla's heart belongs to everyone: and so at the same time, no one in particular.

So you wish; so desperately and fully, that he would lie to you just this once.

So that when it begins to weep, and so that when it begins to bleed; it may hurt just a little less.

To maybe wrap your heart in the softest silk, or maybe even satin if that's what he'd prefer, and then place it apun a glistening, marble pedestal;

But he would never grant you even the smallest lie, and in turn, the smallest bit of respite.

After all, is he not supposed to be virtuous?

So instead, he holds you close, and you can't help but think;

Why must he be so kind, even when he brutally destroys you?

Why must this angel smile at you while liquidating your heart?

And he whispers into your ears about how sorry he is for not being able to love you.

but all you can hear is how he doesn't love you.

And it's not his fault.

Yet, knowing that it's yours doesn't feel any better.

Pure Vanilla continues to speak-- apologizing--yet his words still sting like that of one thousand arrows grazing your arms and legs.

How you yearn for him to be able to heal these pains, too!

But how can he? When they're not really there?

How can something that hurts so much not really be there?

So your tears continue to fall.

How weak you have become! How sorrowful...

And yet, these tears, he wipes away too.

As if they were never there?

And with those tears, you wish he'd wipe away the emotions you've held for him.

As if they were never there?

Would forgetting those emotions- your love for him- truly be worth it?

And when you listen once more; he is still expressing his guilt.

And you have no doubt that he is being truthful when he says he is sorry.

After all, he would never speak anything that isn't the truth!

And sometimes, that pains you more than if he would just lie.

When he slams you into the ground, crushing your skull and mind, and shreds your heart into small bits of blood and flesh and tears and love, but you know it's true when he says he doesn't want to;

That truth doesn't make the wounds hurt any less.

Yet despite this; Pure Vanilla believes, without even a fraction of a doubt;

That truth is the most important virtue.

[emsdevs]

can we get a tz11 where reader is nervous for something so he just does whatever he can to make her laugh and cheer her up 🙏

Sticks and Smiles

a/n: kirby my love, i'm sorry i made you wait so long for this 🧍‍♀️i hope i make you giggle while you read this MWAH love you 🧡

masterlist | NHL Masterlists | Trevor Zegras Masterlist

You had an important interview at work coming up, and as the day got closer, your nerves became more and more prominent. Trevor could see the toll it was taking on you, and it made his chest hurt. He hates seeing you so stressed out. His favorite activity is actually making you smile or laugh. It’s what gets him through his own hard days. He takes it upon himself to cheer you up. He can’t have his girl being down all the time. What kind of boyfriend would he be?

“Hey babe! What do you call a pig that does karate?” he wasn’t sure why, but dad jokes were his preferred method of cheering you up. It probably stems from when he said one on your first date because he was so nervous he wasn’t sure what to talk about. That was the first time he’d heard you really laugh, and he’s been chasing that high ever since.

“What, Trev?” you couldn’t hide the sigh in your words.

“A pork chop!” He managed to get a little grin out of you, but he wasn’t planning on stopping. He’d try again soon. Just about thirty-five minutes later, he decided he should throw out another joke.

“Why did the golfer bring two pairs of pants?”

“I don’t know, Trev. Why?” the grin was already making its way back onto your face, and he knew he was making progress.

“In case he got a hole in one. Duh,” he said the punchline in such a stupid tone you couldn’t help but let out one little chuckle. He waited almost an hour this time, giving it enough time that you might think he’s done.

“Baby. What did the policeman say to his belly button?” “Again?”

“Yes! C’mon!”

“Okay,” you sigh, but it was really just for dramatics, “what did he say?”

“You’re under a vest!” Trevor must’ve thought this one was pretty funny because he laughed before he could even catch your reaction. When he saw you fighting away a smile, he knew for sure his plan would work. He just couldn’t give up.

The two of you had just finished eating dinner when he dropped the next joke, “Why are there gates around cemeteries?”

Your brows are furrowed when you look at him, worried about where this joke might go, “Why?”

“Because people are dying to get in!”

“Trevor!” you try to scold him, but with the small laughs you’re letting out, you know he isn’t taking you seriously. He waits until you’re both in bed to tell you his last joke. You’d just gotten comfy, him cuddled up against your back.

“Babe,” he’s whispering horribly right into your ear, “what’s brown and sticky?”

“Trevor, no.”

“C’mon please.” Again, you sigh, “Okay. What is brown and sticky, Trev?”

He snorts before revealing the answer, “A stick.”

You can’t help it. That one gets you. Before long, you’re cackling right beside Trevor, and he’s loving it. It feels like it’s been forever since he’s seen you smile that brightly. Knowing he caused it makes him ten times happier.

“There’s my favorite smile,” he’s looking at you so tenderly that it leaves no room to doubt how he feels for you.

“I’m sorry I’ve been so stressed recently,” you’re not sure why you’re apologizing. You just felt the need to.

“Don’t be sorry. Just wanna be sure you’re happy. That’s all I ever want,” Trevor leans in to kiss your temple, and the two of you fall asleep like that, all tangled up in one another with smiles on your faces.

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[azaharinflames]

Hello! I apologize for any awkward expressions, as I'm not American and not very proficient in English.

I wasn't part of the 9-1-1 fandom and watched it whenever I had time. It was a light show for me, but while watching 9-1-1, I hoped that Buck would find a partner to settle down with and be happy. (And I never felt even 1% of romantic feelings between Buck and Eddie.) When Buck broke up with Taylor, I understood the reason but felt regretful. After that, Tommy appeared as a meaningful LI. I sincerely cheered for Buck, seeing him happy.

I had high expectations for S8, but in 801, Tommy appeared briefly, and until 804, no one mentioned Tommy, which I found strange. Then I watched 805 and thought Henren's story was forced, but I liked Buck and Tommy's story. Then I watched 806, and... Buck and Tommy can break up. If it had been for a convincing reason like with Buck and Taylor, I would have been sad but understood. However, I couldn't understand the story in 806 at all, and the characters felt unfamiliar, as if they weren't the characters I knew. And the interviews with Tim and OS gave me trauma after enjoying watching 9-1-1 all this time.

Only Lou understood and empathized with me. I didn't know Lou and didn't remember Tommy from S2. I supported Buck and Tommy solely because Buck was happy... Especially OS's interview made me feel like Buck and Tommy were ignored as if they didn't exist. I don't usually have expectations for actors, but I was really disappointed. So, even though I subscribed to Disney+ annually because of 9-1-1, I no longer watch 9-1-1. I know that my not watching won't change anything. And I know that Tim doesn't have the ability to create good, creative stories. Knowing that Buck will just keep running in the same hamster wheel, I really lost expectations for Buck. Of course, knowing that other 9-1-1 characters besides Buck will also run in slightly different hamster wheels without development, I lost interest in the show itself.

Furthermore, I was honestly disappointed with the production team and the broadcasting company for not thinking of protecting the actor who was insulted and attacked in all sorts of ways just because they were Buck's LI. In the country where I live, if such a situation occurred, there would have been an official message from the broadcasting company and production team to stop the attacks and hatred.

I'm sorry for sending such a negative and pessimistic message. I wanted to confide in someone. Even if Tommy doesn't appear again, I plan to continue enjoying BuckTommy content on Tumblr and AO3, but I really miss the time when I was looking forward to and waiting for S8.

Hi, Nonnie! Sorry for taking a bit, physical therapy is kicking my ass rn lmao (kids do not tear your meniscus)

Okay by points. First of all - your English was perfect, don’t sweat it. English is my third language so Iunderstand where you come from, but you’re good!! Now:

you🤝me with this whole post. You were on my mind fr because I do share all of your thoughts.

Perhaps confession time: I liked Taylor! I ultimately understood why it wouldn’t work between Buck and her, but I liked her and I thought they were really cute. I was sad to see her go (although I’m glad by leaving we were able to eventually get Tommy)

Season 8 is the perfect illustration of something I’ve been thinking about 911 for a while - it is the land of missed potential. I’ve gone about it a few times so I won’t go over it again, but Season 8 is the perfect example of having lots they could do yet refusing to attempt to do it.

Your point on the break up is 100%. I would’ve actually understood and accepted it if it made sense in a larger scale, or if we had been introduced to it better. As it is, you do understand Tommy’s motives, but only if you look at the episode. Meaning: everyone acted so out of character during 806, it seemed like a different show. Therefore the break up (to me) does not make sense in a broader, more general view.

Your point on interviews: yeah I get it, sadly. The interviews left a sour taste in everyone’s mouth, because it did seem like Lou was the only one who truly cared for the couple and its fans. And for everyone who had been harassed for months for liking them, the nonchalant attitude of nearly everyone felt cruel and hurtful. It’s more than normal that many people felt like stop watching the show after it (me included). It does seem like OS has started to realize how big Bucktommy actually was and how liked they still are. So, progress? But it feels too little too late. Idk.

I also understand it does feel bad to see how they’ve ignored the bad treatment LFJr has received. Ofc we lack a lot of context (meaning: perhaps Lou himself asked them to ignore it, perhaps he did have a lot of support BTS), but the fact is that they let a group of deranged ‘fans’ bully and threaten an actor, and did nothing. No, instead it very much felt like those fans were being rewarded. It’s normal for us to not want to support that. I know I feel uncomfy with the idea of doing so.

We are lucky (infinitely lucky) that the Bucktommy fandom is filled with truly lovely and amazing people - people that are lovely to read, discuss with, and enjoy their art from!! If 911 doesn’t got my back, I know the BT fandom does ♥️

I hope you can continue to enjoy fandom life, anon! Ultimately they cannot take away what we enjoy!

My inbox is open for ranting, venting, giving opinions and confessions! And if you do not want them publish, please say so in your message 🥰 it’s cool with me, but I do need to know!

Take care <3

[thetepes]

I feel like a lot of people don’t realize that most of the people in the Lily crit community are actually pretty forgiving and tolerant? Like I’ve seen you guys have pretty stark disagreements and be normal about it. You seem pretty chill about everything except CSA and bigotry which is very reasonable.

That's how I see us? I mean, we aren't a monolith. We have no leader, we don't even all have one place we talk. There have been fights and disagreements, but even after them we can shake it off and keep on keeping on. We're adults. That's how you adult. Shock of shocks, but not every minor social spat is worth a hate server and a callout post even if you can't talk it out.

We all have our tolerance levels, like mine is lower than let's say Liquid's. There have plenty of times Liquid has been very understanding and willing to see a more sympathetic side of things where I've said "No, fuck off. I refuse to give grace here, this is clearly malicious." and I think that's good!? We need people like Liquid and we need people like me because without one or the other you either become too forgiving or too unforgiving. Together we all strike a balance and together we all can see different perspectives giving us an edge up few other movements of this nature have and what ultimately leads them to failing while we're still here.

Us also being from all walks of life, countries, and nationalities helps in other ways too. We're a rare group of people who can bypass the social fears present online and point out behavior that's genuinely dangerous and unacceptable without being susceptible to buzzwords and we know better than to except these demented excuses. No. it's not inherently trans to be a groomer. No, it's not inherently lgbtq to be attracted to animals and children. No, it's not inherently anything ever for any reason to be racist, xenophobic, or any other damn thing. Being a minority of any stripe doesn't make what people like Lily and Patty are doing ok.

Hot take, but I'm perfectly willing to go "Hey, this person's apologized and they've changed their behavior so let's move on. We're done here." Issue is, Lily has never and will never do those things and she's done enough heinous shit where even if she did? It's too late.

If she, at the beginning, had said "I was wrong, I'm sorry. I'll change" then actually DONE THAT. Not carried on for years, making worse and worse and more hateful content - so many of us would not be here. Her past would have been resigned to a 15 page thread on Kiwifarms that hasnt been active in years like so many others, but she didn't do that.

So we're here. Talking about her and the other freaks like her now too. Sorry to ramble so much at you.

[things-arent-what-they-seem66]

Lucifer: And having a lot of sex wouldn't make you King it makes you easy.

Adam fakes a gasp: How dare you! I'm not easy!

Lucifer: Oh really? Then who are you fucking all the time Eve?

Adam: I mean, mostly, I'm not gonna fuck random sinners that's gross. That's toeing the line of incest. Oh, maybe if she's open to it, she'll fuck you too.

Lucifer rubbed his face: You were mad before and now you want me to?

Adam: Yeah, solidarity. Its different if I give you permission, you can fuck my ex wife if you want. You already have.

Lucifer: That ...... Is partly true.

Adam tilted his head in confusion: What?

Lucifer: When I gave her the apple and offered to sleep with her, she was scared of my dick so I ate her out instead.

Adam: Why the fuck would she be scared?

Lucifer: I'm 12 inches

There was silence between them for a moment before Adam started laughing.

Adam: There is no fucking way.

Luicfer: I am.

Adam: 12 inches!? That's a fucking footlong sub at Subway man! There is no way.

Lucifer: It's compensation for being 5'2 okay? You want me to whip it out and show you?

Adam: If your dick is 12 inches I'll blow you......... What the fuck is that look for!?

They burst into laughter, Lucifer had looked at him with a sparkle in his eye maybe a little too quickly.

Lucifer: It's been a fucking while! A mouth is a mouth. You heard it here Adam is gonna blow me, exclusive to Patreon only!

Adam: What!? No!

Lucifer: Giving that away for free? How scandalous.~

Adam: Let's just move the fuck on.

Lucifer: Glady, for the record I have my soul. I never begged my Father, but I am the only one who will stay here forever.

Adam: Really? You wouldn't want to go back?

Lucifer: Well, what I did can't be undone it's not as simple as saying I'm sorry. Do you honestly fucking think if I went and apologized they would welcome me with open arms and say "Yeah that's fine Lu, welcome home" Heaven, by the way, not my home anymore. The only ones up there I miss are Gab and Raph, mostly because they didn't treat me like shit. They taught me how to fly.

Adam: That's actually super sweet. Do you think, Charlie started the hotel in hopes of redeeming you?

Lucifer: That...... Will never happen.

Hell was a part of him, his home and intertwined with his very being. If Lucifer were to die....... Well he wouldn't know what would happen but he had a feeling it wouldn't be good.

Lucifer: I've made peace with never going back years ago. It's not a big deal. I don't have to live by their rules anymore and that's fucking nice.

Adam snorted: You just like being King.

Lucifer: Well, it is pretty great. And I think that's a good place to end this, thank you all for listening we'll see you next time on The Hotel Yard.

The Hotel Yard

Adam: So, Lucifer hadn't heard this yet but there is an AI version of our show already.

Lucifer: Shit, okay.

AI Lucifer: Hello everyone I'm with my co-host Adam. And might I say you look like you've escaped from a mental institution.

Adam: So already you start off with insulting me

Lucifer: Yeah but we take turns

Adam: Giving blows to each other

Lucifer: Yeah we take turns blowing each other.

Adam: HAHAHA!!

AI Adam: That's not nice Lu

AI Lucifer: No, but you want to know something else? We're gay for each other.

Lucifer: What!? Hahaha!

Adam: Fucking Jesus hahaha!

I love these goobers so much 😂

AI Adam: We love recording this podcast. But our fathers hate us.

Lucifer and Adam nearly die if laughing.

Lucifer: W-What the fuck?!

Adam: It's not fucking wrong, dude!

[pucksalotguys]

Unsteady

Featuring: Sidney Crosby

Enjoy chapter 1 of my new short fic, I won’t say much so you can all go on with a blind eye and get the full effect. Enjoy and let me know if you liked it 💙

It was the 3rd time that night that Sidney woke up in a cold sweat. He rubbed his face and looked over at the small clock that was on his bedside table, the one Emerson had gotten for him on their first anniversary, it was 3 am. The witching hour as he used to tease her about any time she woke up and bothered him to tell him about whatever dream it was she had. Back when life had meaning

He shook off the bad thoughts and went inside the bathroom as he settled for a steaming shower, the kind that was burning his skin. Somehow he should’ve known today would be hard yet he tried his best to push back all those negative thoughts and now here he was back at square one, mourning his dead wife

Time was fucked. Life was fucked. He looked at his reflection in his mirror and ran his fingers through his stubble. His eye bags were practically purple from all the sleep he had missed the last month. He looked like absolute shit and there was no point in hiding it. After getting him together the best he could he grabbed his bag and headed out the door.

It had only been a few months back at the apartment and slowly he was getting used to it, there was no way he’d be able to go back to his actual house. Not without Emerson. That house stayed empty, it was no longer a home after losing Emerson. He paid for it to get cleaned and kept everything in shape but actually living there again seemed far fetched. The apartment he was staying in now was all he needed, it was in a nice area and quiet and that was all he wanted

When he reached the hallway, he bumped into a woman in her late 20’s struggling to carry a large, awkwardly shaped box and watched as everything spilled “Oh god are you alright ? I’m so sorry” she apologized immediately 

He shot her a quick look. "I'm fine," he said curtly, clearly not in the mood for pleasantries “Be careful next time” “Sorry” she whispered “Uh see you around” “Let’s hope not” Sidney said back as he walked away from her

For the rest of the week, their paths crossed several times. Sidney would take the stairs, trying to avoid any interactions, but every time he did see her, she didn’t seem to get the hint he wasn’t in the mood to talk.

Finally, on a Thursday afternoon, Sidney was on his way to check the mail when he ran into her again. This time, she was standing near the door, fumbling with a package. 

“Oh hey” she said, offering her hand. "I’m Harlow, I live next door"

He hesitated for a second, then simply nodded “Sidney” he replied briefly, not giving much more

“Since we live on the same floor” Harlow continued, trying to push through the tension. “If you need anything, feel free to knock.” Sidney looked at her, his expression unreadable. “Thanks,” he said, and before she could say anything else, he stepped back inside his apartment, the door closing behind him

Harlow stood there for a moment, wondering what had just happened. Was he just a private person? Or had she somehow rubbed him the wrong way?

The next few days were no better. Harlow found herself thinking about the encounter more than she liked to admit. What had she done to upset him ? Was it her presence, the fact that she was his new neighbor ? It bothered her to no end

Finally, on a rainy Saturday, Harlow found herself staring out the window again, the loneliness creeping back. She settled for actually stepping outside on her balcony and simply stood there. Rain always brought back shit memories and more than anything it made her nervous. It brought her back to a time she wanted so badly to forget. She turned her head and that’s when she saw him and panicked for a moment.

There he was, also standing on his balcony, staring out into the mist as if was waiting for life to simply wake him up from whatever dream he was in. Without thinking, Harlow spoke first

 “It’s a miserable day, isn’t it?” she said, her voice carrying over the sound of rain.

Sidney didn’t immediately respond, but when he did, his voice was quieter, more tired than before. “I guess.” Harlow glanced over at her, unsure if he wanted her there, but something in his eyes stopped her from retreating. “You live here long ?” she asked. “It’s so plain around here”

Sidney gave a short laugh, but it didn’t sound like he was amused at all “Yeah okay” he responded before he turned away

“I get it,” Harlow said gently. “Grief’s a funny thing. It can turn even the most ordinary things into reminders of... everything you’ve lost.”

The comment made Sidney snap his head back towards her, his gaze darkened as he laid his eyes on her “The hell is that supposed to mean ?”

“I’m sorry about your wife,” Harlow said finally, her voice barely above a whisper “I know it’s been tough and I just wanted to say that I-” “Don’t mention her again” Sidney said coldly “Do you understand ? Just because you moved in and you wanna be annoying trying to talk to me all the damn time doesn’t mean I want to. Keep to yourself and stay out of my way” “Got it” Harlow nodded “I’m sorry” Sidney shook his head and stepped back inside. Perhaps he was too rude but the mere mention of Emerson did that to him. She should be alive, she should be with him. They should’ve been discussing when they’d start trying for kids, where they’d go to vacation that summer. Never did he think he’d have to live without her so soon. It was tearing him up inside and sooner than later he’d know he’d blow up

***************************************************

In the weeks that followed Harlow avoided Sidney every chance she could. If he took the elevator she took the stairs, if he was coming towards her she’d turn the other way. It wasn’t until one night that power went out in the building that she held her flashlight and walked out of her apartment only to see him slumped by his door “Mr.Crosby” she said softly “Are you okay ?”

Harlow took a step closer and flashed her phone light on him and that's when it hit her, he was drunk. She gently touched his shoulder and shook him slightly “Hey….hey Sidney, you okay ?”

“Em….Emerson” he mumbled batting his eyes open “It’s you” he moved his hand to caress her cheek “You���re here”

Harlow breathed heavily upon his touch and gently removed it “We gotta get you inside, where’s your key ?”

“Emerson why’d you leave me” Sidney slurred “I’m sorry Em, I’m so sorry. I’m sorry I took longer, I’m sorry…come back please come back already”

She did her best to ignore him, looking for any sign of a key or even a wallet and found his pockets empty. For a moment she debated leaving him there or calling security to come get him but after hearing what she did on tv and how he was on sabbatical, she knew it wouldn’t be ideal so instead she took him to her place.

For once she was thankful a power outage had happened because at least then she couldn’t exactly see his face in her dimly lit living room. She lit up some candles on her dining table and sat there watching him. She had fallen asleep when she suddenly heard movement followed by cursing

“Holy shit” Sidney murmured as he tried to get up from her coach “Why is it dark ?”

“H-Hey” Harlow stuttered out

Sidney squinted as he made eye contact with her then widened his eyes “Why the hell are you in my apartment ? Are you fucking stalking me now ?”

“This is MY apartment” Harlow snapped “You’re in my apartment because you got drunk and lost your wallet and keys and you slumped right by your door like a slob. I brought you in here because I know security would have a bitch fest with you. Believe me I regret my decision immensely”

Sidney felt around his pants and pockets quickly, realizing he in fact had no wallet, keys or even his phone. He shook his head “I….I left everything back at the bar, I only had 2 beers”

“You don’t smell like 2 beers” she commented “Whatever happened clearly got the best of you, I should’ve just called security and they would have handled you”

“Why is your place dark ?” Sidney asked as he looked around “There’s no light”

“Power outage” Harlow nodded “Started around 2 this afternoon and it’s now 8 and still out, management downstairs said we’ll have it back by tomorrow morning at the latest”

He rubbed the back of his neck anxiously and nodded “I uh….sorry for yelling at you like that”

“It’s okay” she said “You were freaked out, I get it”

Sidney reached as he grabbed a candle that was on her coffee table and brought it up to his face so he could see her better “Harlow…Harlow what ?”

“Meyer” she answered quietly

“Harlow Meyer” nodded “I’m Sidney, Sidney Crosby”

“I know” Harlow responded “Thanks for helping me” he looked at her “Listen I know you probably know who I am but just….don’t mention anything alright ? I’ve been on a break and if somehow this gets to the team then they’ll ask me to take more time off and I don’t want that. I’m close to getting back and I don’t want anything fucking that up. If you want money I can give you some, just name the amount and it’s yours”

“I don’t want money,  you have my word I won’t tell a soul. I promise you” Harlow looked at him “I swear”

Sidney hesitated and nodded, looking down at his hands “So uh you’re new here ?”

“Yeah, just got here like a month ago” she answered

“You like it so far ?” he asked

“My neighbor’s kind of an ass but other than that it’s a pretty decent city” Harlow chuckled

Sidney laughed, he genuinely laughed at her comment and grinned, it seemed like it had been forever since he last did that and suddenly Emerson came to his mind and suddenly he felt like he was betraying her in some way

“Well I’m out” he cleared his throat “I’ll have some papers for you to sign tomorrow and what not” “Wait what ?” Harlow asked confused “I’m literally swearing I won’t tell anyone to your face and you’re gonna make me sign some document ?” 

“I don’t know you” he looked at her “I can’t trust you”

She shook her head in disbelief “I can’t believe I helped you out, I should’ve left you out there”

“Why didn’t you ?” he asked

“You looked a mess” she admitted “Clearly you’re struggling”

“I’m not some fucking weirdo alright ? I went to a bar, had some drinks and then when I walked back I felt it all. I’m not some alcoholic who gets drunk every day just to drink, that’s for weak minded people”

“People who struggling with alcohol have an addiction, they’re not weak” Harlow spoke “They can’t help it” “Yeah alright well I’m letting you know all I had were some beers and that this won’t happen again and I’ll have something for you to sign tomorrow” “Just leave already” she pointed to the door He hastily walked out and headed downstairs to get security to let him into his apartment after telling them he had lost his keys. He wasted no time once inside and immediately laid in bed as he reached for the framed picture on his nightstand of him and Emerson and hugged it tightly to his chest.

Today would’ve been their 3 year wedding anniversary and she was gone. Sidney was a widow before he was 40. He still remembered where he was when he got the call about her being rushed to the hospital and how he had convinced himself she was okay. How the heart attack was just minor and she’d be okay but that wasn’t true

The doctor's voice telling him she was gone played over and over in his head and soon he was crying, it was a nightmare he re-lived every single day that was taking over him. The same nightmare that caused him to fall asleep and wake up in that cold sweat every morning.

The next day he woke up and made his way to the bar to collect his wallet, keys and phone he had left behind. After paying his tab and giving the bartender a hefty check to not say a word he stopped by his usual coffee shop to grab something to eat and settled by a nearby bench on a park. It was then that he spotted her and sighed, she was like some tick that just wouldn’t leave him It was day time now and he had a better look at her, she was tall, fit with some brunette hair and seemed overly focused on counting all the donuts in her box. He finished his food and followed her for a bit and when he saw where she stopped and went in he felt his stomach drop. After last night’s fiasco and him talking down to her there she was walking into an AA meeting in the city's treatment center. He paused for a moment and looked down at his phone, his screensaver of Emerson lighting up his phone as if to tell him he knew what he needed to do. What he didn’t know was that he’d soon find out just how much Harlow understood him.

[shivunin]

For the Rook story promots, how about

8. A time Rook argued with someone they care about

or

18. Rook trying to impress someone.

Hope the distraction works AND that you have a lovely day ^^

Thank you!! This wound up a bit longer than I intended, but it dovetailed really well with something I'm writing about Lenore and Caterina.

Bias-Cut

(Rook Ingellvar/Lucanis Dellamorte | 2,369 Words | CW: Implied/referenced past child abuse)

In which Rook prepares to meet the former First Talon

“It’ll be fine, Rook,” Teia said from the settee, deftly spinning a dagger around her finger. “She’s tough and stubborn, but she loves her family. She’ll intimidate you a little. It’s her way. But really, after all that, it will be fine.”

Rook cast a doubtful look over her shoulder, shifting uncomfortably in her borrowed dress. Every small movement sent ripples of light over the silk, which seemed determined to cling to her skin. 

“And you’re sure that this is the appropriate sort of thing to wear to an evening like this?” 

Something about the gown felt wrong, but she couldn’t put her finger on why. It wasn’t the fit; she and Teia were more or less the same size, save around the hips. The color was even one of her favorites, a deep purple that leaned more toward plum than the usual indigo the Crows seemed to prefer. 

“Of course it is. I’ve done so dozens of times. You couldn’t go in what you were wearing before, Rook. Armor sends a message.”

“She won’t be angry that we’re late?” 

“She’ll expect it. She is the one who left the message for Lucanis with Viago. They’ll have to resolve whatever it was before you can leave.”

Borrowed dress aside, Rook still looked like herself in the mirror. That had been important to her for reasons she couldn’t place. Even so, she couldn’t remember the last time she’d worn something so fine, silk slippery and drifting over her skin with every movement. It felt like… 

“Antonia,” she murmured, taking half a step back from the mirror. 

It was absurd. Antonia had been taller and paler and human. Lenore didn’t look a thing like Antonia had; Antonia had never been her actual mother, after all, and had only playacted at being one when it’d suited her to do so. 

Still, she couldn’t help but recall being shepherded around some cocktail party with the Nevarran nobility, Antonia’s silken gown brushing against Lenore’s arms as she was ferried to and fro. She’d been the picture of politeness, the perfect child, had answered only when spoken to and commented only on matters intended for her ears. The only time she’d slipped up, that lovely, elegant hand had clamped onto her shoulder with bruising force while Antonia apologized to their host. 

And when they’d gotten home…

“Rook? Did you hear me?” 

“Hm? Oh—I’m sorry Teia. I was lost in thought. Can you repeat that?”

“Sure,” Teia said, standing to follow her. “I’m going to go check on the others. I thought they’d be finished by now. You’re alright on your own?” 

“Yes, of course,” Lenore said. She waited there, eyes locked on herself in the mirror, until the door clicked shut behind her. 

Her violin case had been left on the table by the door. Lenore crossed to it now, taking comfort in the familiar click of the clasps as they were undone. 

Willful child. Defiant child. You shame me.

There was the bow, smooth and warm under her fingers, rosin already applied. There, the familiar body of the violin, varnish gleaming over woodgrain in the lamplight. The strings shone silver, each carefully tuned on the other side of the eluvian while she’d waited for the correct time to step through. Lenore touched each piece in turn now, resisting the urge to tune and rosin and check one more time. All was already prepared for use. Anything more was fussing.

If she was allowed to, she would play for Caterina. It was a silly gesture, a candle against a hurricane, but it was worth trying. The Dellamortes must love something of the arts if they had their own opera house, right? She wasn’t certain if Lucanis thought this a good idea because she still hadn’t seen him yet. Teia had swept her off to the attic of the Diamond almost as soon as she’d stepped through the eluvian and she’d been here ever since, digging through the other woman’s apparently endless wealth of clothing. 

In truth, she’d brought the instrument for her own comfort. No matter what Teia said, she knew that Lucanis’s grandmother had no intention of giving Lenore her blessing. No beautifully executed sonata would sway her; nothing short of bending her knee and kissing the ring would suffice, she supposed. She knew the type very well; she’d been raised by the type.

Carefully, Lenore snapped the case closed again and rested her hand on the lid. The lamplight shone differently on the scars over the backs of her hands. They were very old now, faint enough that most never even noticed they were there. Lucanis had noticed. Lucanis had scars that matched hers. He had seen them, noted them, and never once pressed her to explain how she’d gotten them. She supposed they both knew very well. 

The marks of a cane and the marks of a wand didn’t look so different from each other, after all.

“Rook?” Teia said, leaning through the doorway. Lenore turned toward her, hand still resting on the dark wood of her violin case. 

“They’ll meet us at the canal. Soon,” this last said pointedly over her shoulder. “She’ll expect you to be late, but not so late she feels disregarded. Follow me.”

“Alright,” Rook said, and gathered the trailing end of the dress over her wrist so it wouldn’t catch on the wooden stairs. 

“You look more relaxed,” Teia said, patting Lenore’s shoulder as they descended the stairs. “That’s good. I thought you were going to run before I got back.”

The more tightly wound Rook felt, the more relaxed her body became. This, too, was a holdover from childhood. She had, at least, exorcised the need to flatter and appease when somebody else seemed angry. Perhaps someday she would leave this vestige behind, too. 

“Thought about it,” Rook lied. “But I know how much his family means to him. If this is important to him, it’s important to me. I just wish I’d been able to see him before…well.” 

“It will be better this way,” Teia said, pointing at the door they needed. “I’ll arrange you for full effect—it’ll be worth it just to see his face when he sees you in this.” 

Lenore allowed Teia to take her arm as they left the Diamond and stepped onto the streets of the city. In truth, she had difficulty imagining that Lucanis would think any more of her in a pretty dress than he had when she’d been coated head to toe in the blood of a god. Still, it was a pleasant enough distraction to pretend that it would matter, that there would be some pretty silver lining to this evening. The thought carried her all the way to the canal steps.

“Tsch,” Teia said to someone standing beside the dock, tossing her hair over her shoulder. She let go of Rook’s arm to plant both of hers on her hips. “You weren’t supposed to be here yet.”

“Perhaps you should move faster,” Viago said, still out of sight for Lenore. 

“You think I should take her running across the rooftops like this?” 

Teia stepped down and to the side, clearing the space between Rook and Lucanis. The latter stood in the gondola already, steady and balanced despite the faint rocking of the boat. Lenore looked at him, her grip loose on her violin, and he stepped from the boat to the ground. There was something soft in his face, something she’d only just begun to identify as affection for her. 

“Doesn’t she look perfect?” Teia prompted. 

Lenore had been left for dead in a crypt in the Necropolis before she was a week old. She had been raised by the Mourn Watch, save those four long years with Antonia. She’d never had a legacy to shoulder, a mother to mourn, a grandmother to appease. She had never had a name to live up to; Ingellvar had just been the word engraved on the crypt where they’d found her. 

“Always,” Lucanis said, his voice quiet. “Rook. Thank you for coming tonight.”

She would never really understand what it meant to Lucanis to have his family, but she would do everything in her power not to drive a wedge between them. One night was a small sacrifice. This was a conclusion she’d come to last week; seeing him now only reminded her of her purpose. The dress was nothing; the dinner was nothing. The ghost of her foster mother was less than nothing. For him, she had braved far worse than any of it. 

Lucanis met her at the bottom step, hand held out to help her down the last step. 

“Thank you,” she said. 

Generally, they avoided public displays of affection in Treviso. They’d agreed it painted an unnecessary target on her back. Accordingly, he held her hand only as long as might be considered normal, but he murmured to her as she passed.

“Did something happen?” 

“No,” she told him quietly and truthfully, and raised her voice when she went on. “Teia is good company. She was kind enough to lend me this.”

“It was for my own gratification,” Teia said, wrapping an arm around Rook’s shoulder and kissing her loudly on the cheek. “Look at her. She was meant to wear this, yes? It was wasted in my closet. You should keep it, Rook; it suits you.” 

Viago crossed his arms and grimaced at them, but Lucanis touched the bare patch of skin down Rook’s back. 

“We’re late. We shouldn’t keep her waiting.”

“Of course. I’m ready to go,” Lenore said. Lucanis stepped down into the boat and lifted a hand for her to take. Teia stepped closer one last time and Viago followed, still glowering. 

“Remember what I said and you’ll be fine,” Teia said quietly. 

When Rook would have turned away and taken Lucanis’s hand, Viago stepped between them.

“Don’t listen to Teia,” Viago said, voice low enough that he might think Lucanis didn’t hear. Lenore knew better. “Not all of us have the benefit of being the favorite. Be polite, don’t make yourself a threat, and you might make it back in one piece.” 

“Unusual for you to give me personal advice,” she said, voice faintly amused in a way she despised. Antonia again. She’d be hearing the damned woman all night. 

“For the sake of Teia’s dress,” he said, already turning away. “She likes it too much for it to end up bloodstained.” 

Lenore snorted and turned away from the two Talons, taking Lucanis’s hand at last and stepping down into the boat. It rocked faintly under her feet in a way she found unsettling. Boats were still strange to her, still a little dizzying to sit in. Drowning didn’t top her list of worst ways to die, but it came close. Accordingly, she sat on the closest bench as quickly as she could manage.

“Are you comfortable?” Lucanis asked, and waited for her agreement before pushing off from the dock. “Don’t listen to Viago. There won’t be any fighting. Caterina would never allow it.”

“Lucanis—” Lenore bit back the next words, struggled to find others to fill the space they left behind. 

“Go ahead, Rook,” he said, glancing down at her before returning his attention to the canals. Looking for assassins, she supposed, as well as navigating around the other boats in the canal. “Say whatever you need to say. You know I won’t hold it against you.”

Rook took a slow breath, filtered the things she wanted to say from the things she needed to say, then went on. 

“I’m not Antivan. I will never be a Crow. I don’t have a family name or anything to offer materially—no connections, no significant money or land,” she began, and hesitated. “I know this doesn’t matter to you, nor Spite, but it matters to Caterina. She doesn’t approve of me.”

“How do you know that?” he asked, and turned back to the canals long enough to steer around a gondola floating aimlessly in the center of the passage. He murmured something uncomplimentary at it and glanced back at Rook. 

“Something she said the last time we spoke,” Lenore said, and watched Villa Dellamorte rise as they approached. “I’ll do my best, but I can’t promise…”

“Then don’t promise,” he said, and surprised her by sitting down across from her. 

They’d moved into a relatively empty stretch of water, the sounds of the market and its shops far behind them. When he took her hand from her lap, there was nobody to see. 

“There are things I need to say, too,” he said, solemn. “Whatever happens tonight, Rook, it doesn’t change anything between us. What Caterina thinks is her business. You are mine. All I want from tonight is to share the place I called home and what’s left of my family. Without having to kill our way through it this time.”

“You know it isn’t going to be that simple,” she said, wrapping her other hand around his and squeezing. “So I won’t remind you. I’ll be honored to see the place you grew up, Lucanis, however Caterina feels about it.” 

He leaned forward and kissed her, quick and dear. She didn’t close her eyes when he did. She wanted to watch him, just in case…In case she needed to remember later. 

“Let’s go,” she said when he drew away. “I don’t want us to be any later than we already are.” 

“Alright,” he said, but paused a moment longer, still watching her expression. “If it’s ever too much—if you decide that you need to leave—”

“I’ll tell you,” she said. “I’m more worried that I’ll lose my temper. I don’t know if you noticed, but I don’t have the best track record with authority figures.” 

“That you do not,” he said, and kissed her again. He was smiling while he did it, and she caught the barest sliver of his teeth with her lips. They kissed for longer than was advisable, but she drank in the contact, the reassurance. Lucanis loved her wholly. She could never question something so obviously true. 

As long as she remembered that, she could handle whatever came next. 

She was certain of it.

[writingsonsaturn]

all you had to do was stay

{ masterlist } { the 'taylor swift' series }

🪐 - the amount of re-writing i did for this one was crazy but hopefully you like a bit of this sadness

wc - 687

content warning: angst, break-up, emotional distress, mention of a death

⭒☆━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━☆⭒

To say you weren’t expecting Tim at your door at ten o’clock at night would have been an understatement.

He had called your relationship quits just short of two weeks ago, explaining the cliché of it being him and not you. Telling you he was sorry but simply couldn’t continue loving you. Your eyes stung at his words as you told him repeatedly to leave, to just get the fuck out, his over said apologizes ricocheting off your skin like a bullets hitting steel as you pushed him out the door and slammed it in his face.

You fell with your back against the door, you had felt as though your heart was ripped into halves and Tim took one side with him. You had a couple of sick days you haven't used up at work and decided then would be as good a time as ever. 

One full week of nothing but tears and the occasional contemplation of calling, or texting Tim but in the end deciding it wasn’t a healthy nor good option. However, you only allowed yourself one full week of sulking before moving on with your life, you didn’t want to fall into a pattern of bad habits. 

Although, some would argue forcing yourself only one week to grieve a long-term relationship is in itselfs, unhealthy.

So now after not properly dealing with the breakup and over-exhausting yourself with work, you were not pleased to see Tim. 

“What?’ you said in a harsh tone

“I needed to see you,” Tim explained with his voice on edge. 

You had to keep yourself from rolling your eyes and laughing humorlessly, “and why is that?” your voice clearly unimpressed. “It was a bad day at work, someone who looked exactly like you died and i just couldn’t get the thought of you out of my head” Tim finished with eyes red as rubies. The look in his eyes almost had you reeling him in, holding him to your chest and assuring him that you were okay.

Instead, your eyes only softened as you said “Tim i'm okay, but you need to go.” His heart was crushed hearing you say that, although he can’t say he didn’t deserve it. He destroyed you, with the only reason being he was too scared to fall in love again and besides telling you that, he shut you out. 

“Please, Y/n, can I crash here tonight” Tim nearly begged. He looked like he might soon be sick if you didn’t allow him in, but you couldn’t. After everything he did, and told you the night he broke up with you, you couldn’t accept him back in no matter how much he beggar or how much it hurt your heart to see him like this.

“This is so, so goddamn unfair Tim” you spoke with anger as tears appeared on your waterline, “this is what you wanted, and now yo-you think you can just come back when you need a ‘pick me up’?” you heard your heartbeat in your ears as you told him off.

“I know, I know baby-” Tim tried before you cut him off,

 “No, no you don’t get to fucking call me that, you ended it.”

The hope in his eyes dimmed out the moment he realized that it was, indeed, actually over. He did end it. All of this was because of him, your tears, your pain, every single thing, was his fault. There wasn’t anything he could do except sit there and take it.

“Listen, I had a long day too, so I need you to leave” you sighed out whilst rubbing between your eyes. Then, with one last look into your eyes, like he was searching for a reason to stay, yet all he could find was disdain and anger. So he stepped back saying a quiet “i'm sorry’ and walked away from your door with his hand on the back of his neck.

It seems like collapsing against an angry closed door was starting to become a recurring action, and you could only hope this would be the last time he showed up.  

[girlnadian]

i seriously cannot stop thinking about theo and ken just take it. some off screen moments for them

786 words // divider

Theo is a large, solid weight against the line of Ken's back, pressed close with one hand around Ken's bicep and the other holding a netherite sword just above their tail. He's still huffing angrily as they pass through the walls around the base, avoiding Wardens and Elder Guardians as they go. It's really not a great build, Ken thinks—he's not sure why Wemmbu was so surprised it didn't work.

Ken's feet hit the water with a harmless splash. Theo is right behind them as soon as they crawl out of the water, but his shoulders have visibly deflated. He doesn't make any move to round up his "hostage" again. Ken tries not to snicker.

"I didn't mean any of that," Theo says, not-quite apologetic but just a bit guilty. "You can leave."

Ken fails. They snort, leaning forward to look up at Theo under the barrier of his helmet. "Really? I'm not pretty enough to be a hostage anymore?"

Theo places a hand on Ken's forehead and shoves them away. It's with more force than Ken was expecting, but they manage to stay upright even if they stumble and yelp.

"Knock it off," Theo says. "I'm trying to be nice!"

"I was having fun, though," Ken pouts, and then dodges another shove towards their face. "You made me get naked and now you're telling me to leave?"

"Dude."

"Alright, alright," not that Ken's actually worried about Theo's reaction, but he is about to go into a fight—assuming Wemmbu shows up, that is. Ken wouldn't be that surprised if he didn't, threat on Ken's life or not. Either way, it's probably better not to distract Theo too much. Instead, Ken busies themself with strapping on their armor and getting their elytra over their shoulders. Theo watches passively. Ken reaches over again to pinch his cheek.

"Don't die," they say kindly. Theo pulls a face like he's offended, but Ken launches into the air before he can get a word in.

They stick around. Theo is good enough at PvP to not get himself killed, Ken knows that, but that doesn't mean they aren't curious about what will happen. They hunker down in a hastily made shack, far enough away that they're reasonably sure the fight won't carry over here but nearby enough that they should be able to catch Theo leaving, assuming he leaves in the same direction he came from. It must be a long fight, though, because by the time Ken hears that tell-tale sound of rockets, they're dozing off against one of their shulkers.

Feet hit the ground right outside the door. Theo bursts in at the same time that Ken yawns.

"You don't look like you won," they observe. Theo's armor is banged up, but he doesn't look too bad… He's not bleeding profusely, anyway. Theo's proud, though, bordering on egotistical—if he had won, he'd be swaggering around like a mafia don. That's too bad.

Theo doesn't respond, just stumbles over and starts digging through the shulker Ken had previously been draped over. Ken lets him, tail idly swaying in the air behind them; they put it out for Theo, anyway. He digs out golden apples, a few bottles of enchanting, ender pearls—anything he's low on—and then promptly falls back on his ass so they're both sitting on the floor.

"Sorry for taking you hostage," Theo says.

"You apologized for that already."

"No, I didn't."

Once more, Ken reaches over, gently digging his claws into one of Theo's headwings until the avian twists and flutters. "You apologized enough. I could tell. It's fine, Wemmbu also threatened to kill me. Unlike you, he probably would have."

"He did?" Theo sounds a bit miserable. Ken shrugs.

They lapse into silence. Ken settles back into their spot and allows Theo to lick his wounds in peace. They're not good enough with people to know what Theo's thinking, but they could wager a guess, maybe: for people like Theo, it's always about strength. The Farlands are long behind them, and Ken thinks much more highly of Theo now than they ever could have imagined they would a few months ago, but Theo has been, is, and always will be a warrior at heart. Losing was probably a bigger blow than any mace hit.

Ken could never understand it, though. They think about Wemmbu insisting their base stay in the same spot. The pursuit of strength and sentimentality lead people to irrational places so fast.

"Thanks for listening to me," Ken says, "about not dying, I mean."

Theo's body untenses, just a little, wings hitting the floor with a dull thump where they had previously been rigid in the air. "Sure, no problem."

Ken will take it.

[logan-sniper]

Angst fic 💛💙

I'm so evil for writing this 🤕

(Not my art 😋)

Jump

Byler angst, Mile wheeler angst, sadfic

*trigger warning! Suicide, depression, sad things :(

Info: this is mike's suicide note to Eleven a few days after will dies due to vecna

(This takes place before or during s5)

It's midnight when Mike bikes to Hopper's cabin where Eleven is staying. He leaves a crisp letter on the doorstep, pinned down with a rock so it won't blow away. Then he bikes away into the dark of the night.

Hopper wakes up early, and gets ready for work. He notices a white letter on the porch. He picks it up and reads the name it's addressed to. "Eleven, mail for you!" he hollers, and leaves it on the counter for he to read when she gets up.

Eleven wanders into the kitchen and opens the letter. She would recognize that handwriting anywhere. It was from Mike. Although the two broke up, they were still close friends. She sat down at the table, and began to read it.

"I was only 12 when I saw them pulling Will's "body" out of the quarry. I was only 12 when I attended his funeral, I was only 12 when I jumped off the that same quarry. I was only 12 when I wanted to be dead. The world was a cruel place, and I just wanted to join my best friend. You saved me, Eleven. You saved Will, too. You brought me happiness, and made me feel like a normal teenage boy! I wasn't normal though. I liked someone very much. But by the time I fully accepted myself for liking them, it was too late. I will never see Will in this life again. And to think I could've saved him if only I knew his favorite song. It was Boys Don't Cry, wasn't it? I should have been there for him, but I was too fucking worried that I would only love him more. Liking boys is a sin, I know that. I'm such a disappointment, tell my mom I'm sorry, will you? Will is dead. I'm still in shock, to be honest. From that day when I saw the lab workers pulling his "body" out of the lake, I knew he wouldn't last forever, but I didn't think he would have to go so fast. I know this is hard to hear, but in days, months, years, you'll forget about me. Don't be sad, I want to join him. I want to find him and apologize to him. I want to run up to him, kiss him and never stop, because I know he loves me back. Fuck, I know he does. Or did, I guess. El, I'm going back to the quarry tonight. By the time you find this in the morning, I'll be gone. Tell my mom I love her. Tell Nancy, Dustin, and Lucas that, too. And most of all, I love you Eleven. So don't worry about me, I just want to get to Will.

Love Mike"

Eleven dropped the letter to the ground, a lump in her throat, and a knot in her chest. "No." she whispered. He couldn't be gone. He couldn't be.

The quarry, she thought. That's where he was going. Is it too late? She sped out of the house, and dashed down the street. She didn't have a bike, so running was the only option.

Luckily, the quarry wasn't very far. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Mike's bike parked at the very edge of the cliff.

"No," she whispered again, breathlessly. "No, no, no..." she peered over the edge of the cliff, and scanned to see if there was a body floating in the dark waters.

Nothing.

Suddenly, her eyes landed on a yellow blob. Was that Will's shirt? El didn't waste another second. She grabbed Mike's bike, and peddled down the hill towards the bottom of the quarry at full speed. When she got there, she ran towards the yellow. It was a body on the ground wearing in Will's favorite shirt, but it wasn't Will, it was Mike.

"Mike..." she sobbed, voice hoarse.

"Please," she held his lifeless, cold body in hers, and just sat there.

She just sat there, and cried.

How could he do this?

She wondered if he would actually meet Will in heaven.

She hoped they would spend the rest of eternity together. Happy at last. El wiped some of the dried blood away from his face. He had sharp, jagged rocks lodged into his body everywhere. Hours passed before she squeezed Mike's hand one last time, and then draped her cardigan around him. It was cold out, but Mike's body was cold enough.

"Goodbye, Mike." she choked out, before turning away and biking up the hill.

She hated to be the one to deliver bad news, but it had to be done.

El knocked on Mike's door, and when karen answered, she burst into tears again.

[tarta-de-limon]

HEY YOU GOT MY FAVORITE GAYS EVER AS YOUR BANNER- me fr

anyways do you have any ocs perchance I would like to draw em

LMAAAO, THEY'RE ADORABLE, I HAD TO HAVE THEM IN MY BANNER

And omg, I do but... they're kinda cringey.

...

Anyway here they are!!!!

It's a quick drawing of all of them, they don't belong to the same storyline tho, I created them to entertain myself, and it's a sketch like this because I actually draw them traditionally, not digitally. I draw them in my classes.

They're more like... introduced characters into DC universe??? As you can see second Luan on the right is WonderGirl, so...yeah, cringey.

But I want to share their stories because I love them!!!

If you don't care, you can skip, I already gave their designs right here, so knowing their stories is kind of unnecessary??? I put some photos ahead, so you can skip the text and go to the photos if you want to draw any of them and need references!

So, Natalya is actually just a normal teenager, daughter of Bruce Wayne, didn't really cared about her mother so... she's dead, I guess. Maybe a one night stand. I created her because I thought it would be cute for Damian to have a gentle, kind big sister figure? In that moment I wasn't into DC in general, so I didn't know about Cass and Steph, I only watched the movies.

But then I read the comics, and well, here's her lore:

So, she's very fragile, she gets tired easily, she gets sick easily, but as a kid, she really, really wanted to be a to do sports and all that to prove Bruce and others she wasn't weak. She knew Jason and was super close to him. Then Jason died haha. She felt alone, Bruce was grieving, Dick was grieving, she gets angry, she hates everyone, then Tim takes the mantle of Robin, Natalya hates him.

Like, really, really hates him.

Uhh... Idk if this is canon or not, because as I've said before, I'm not a Tim fan...

So, in this au Tim's parents die, Natalya feels bad, kinda tries to fix things, doesn't really work.

So she's been always trying to be loud and annoying to call others attention, but after this, she kinda quiets down??? And realizes that, well, sometimes listening is nice too, yk? I remember I had this scene where she's complaining to Alfred, like; why won't he forgive me!? I already said sorry! (She's a kid)

And Alfred tells her to, well, to kinda listen to others? Because all she's listening is herself; I already apologized, I already said I'm sorry, I'm right, you're wrong.

And well, ever since then Natalya kinda calms down and learns that, well, sometimes life is life, and that she never really had a passion for sports, she didn't even liked them she just wanted to be noticed.

She realizes that what she does like is playing chess with Alfred, and well, she joins the chess club of her school, once she's calmer and nicer Tim forgives her, they become close. Everything's going just fine...

And then Damian arrives.

But Natalya is super happy, she had a little brother! And she was going to be the best sister and give him all the attention and affection she didn't have when she was a kid.

At first Damian doesn't like it. Then he kinda does. Is nice to have someone caring for you, and Natalya is just...nice. she's the type of girl that likes to take care of others, and that really likes to do little gestures like baking sweets for you when you're feeling sick.

... then she dies. Yeah. Idk why I decided she would die. She just does.

Damian revives her with the Lazarus pit, because he feels it was his fault (something, something happened, Natalya covered him with her body, she dies). I really wanna go into detail but it'll be too long.

And when she revives she's kinda traumatized! But she's adapting. Besides, her body isn't as weak as it used to. I have this scene where she's running and she realizes; Wait, I'm running. I'm not tired. I'm not having trouble breathing. I'm running!!!!

So Natalya's kinda happy, I guess.

(she ends up with a bunch of scars and her left eye is grey now. She can't see with that one. She was shot. Multiple times. I like to think her scar have like this 💥 form.

Uh... second one is Luan(19)! I actually created her, again, while I was watching the movies; wouldn't it be funny if Damian had a twin sister? So that's where the design came from. Damian in the movies doesn't look like o picture him now tho 😭😭✋✋✋ anyway, her lore? Well, as Damian twin sister: she was trained, killed, revived, killed, revived, then she was poisoned with Joker Venom, but it kind of made her crazy, she tries to blow up the whole city, she realizes last moment what she's doing, she develops like...personality problems??? (Her real self and the venom self, kind of), she runs away.

She spends time trying to find who she is, then she returns to Gotham to end a criminal organization she created while she was a villain. She refuses to talk with the batfam because she feels to guilty, because well, she kinda tried to kill them all.

That's as Damian's twin tho. As a new Oc? Idk... she's a villain... that's it. I didn't really thought about her new lore. I just really like her design. I created a boyfriend for her, when I was redesigning her to be older and just a different person. She met him when she was fighting batman and Robin, and he kinda "saved" her ("saved' because she knew he was spying on her and pretended to be loosing to see what he would do). His name is Kairos. It means: a propitious moment for decision or action. I think it's pretty accurate.

Kate is my favorite. She's such a tiny little devil I love her so much.

Her real name is Lydia, actually, she lived with her mother, a drug addict, in crime alley. When she was three or so, one day she kinda got mad at her mom, a temper tantrum, and well, she had the bad habit of hiding while she was angry.

Well she hid under the bed and just then some bad guys appeared because, surprise, her drug addict mother owed them money.

They killed her...uhhh, warning, I guess:

⚠️ They kinda... strangled her. And I have this scene where the just put her against the floor, the woman is dying, and Kate is there, under the bed, and she can't do shit because, she's a damn toddler and is scared? ⚠️

She stayed there, hidden under the bed for a whole day, just in shock, before she ran away from her apartment and just... Idk, she just wanted to leave. She was panicking, alright?

The point is, Selina finds her.

Kate is in a state of shock and doesn't really react, so Selina takes her in and gives her a new name. Kate! Like kitten, get it?

So...

She's kind of a prodigy??? She's a smart ass, she knows how to build all type of machines and is pretty smart.

So she fixes Selina's little gadgets if needed, and Selina will buy her materials so she can build her machines.

There's more lore to her but, well, let's just say this is too long already.

She kinda gets traumatized. She's fighting for her life, she cuts her hair. She heals. She becomes a better person.

I REALLY WANT TO GIVE DETAILS BUT UHG, I FEEL LIKE IT'LL BE TOO MUCH.

Anyway here's the other Luan's lore:

She's WonderGirl, she was supposed to train with Diana but Diana decides she's not ready. She's too... brutal. She fights like boxing? You see those bracelets? They extent to her hands so they turn into big gauntlets she uses to fight. So yeah, violent. The thing is like she actually has fun while fighting. She'll be jumping and giggling, and well, that's not very...sane thing to do?

She grew up in Themyscira, by a secluded group of Amazons that just taught her how to fight, and how to be 'a good warrior'.

When Damian forms his Teen Titans team he kinda kidnapped her too (because let's be honest, he kidnapped everyone, lmao). Damian feels kinda related to her??? Because Luan is always sayin: a good warrior does this, a good warrior does that. And she's willing to die for 'her honor.' it kinda reminds him to how he used to be in the League.

I honestly created her because Jon and Damian were missing a wonder to be like, Batman, superman and Wonder woman. And then I kinda liked to think Damian and Luan would have something. Honestly? This is all Djinni's fault. God, did I hate her.

But uh, then I had this idea where she kinda gets lost in time and she kinda looses her memories and...

Yeah, I won't give details. You already know why. Too long.

Oh yeah, and she used to kill. Damian taught her not to!

Anyway, that's all, I'm so sorry for my rambling, I just had to share them because I love them so much. 😭😭😭

[trickingbell]

Day 2: Group Photoshoots

"Miel. Would it be self-centered to say...I really love myself?"

Sissel took photos herself!! Below are her notes back to Yomiel about every individual Sisselphoto!

"The Sissel who greeted me, Angel. For simplicities sake, every Sissel is getting a nickname. Honestly, I didn't trust the portal...so when I stepped through and saw her? Halo and all?? I asked her if I died and if she was the angel to welcome me. Embarrassing. But she thought it was funny so SCORE!! For both of us, eh? She's a sweetie, I have to thank her somehow for getting me here..."

"Wrench. Every Sissel I meet I get...is there a word for being jealous of yourself? Whatever it is, Wrench is such a dear. Reminds me of college a whole bunch and she smells like the workshop there too. Gross, but sweet that another me is suffering the hells of machinery. Taking a photo of her from my angle was...well, you know. I had to get on top of another Sissel for this. My pride. But it's worth it! Look at her smile!! As for her name? Her head. Kind of wrenchy looking. What do you know she had one on her!! Other Sissels are trying to tell me 'No they're cat ears!' But I know I'm right!!"

"Standing on another Sissel basically alerted everyone I was taking special photos for myself. I'm glad I packed a big bag...There's so many. THIS Sissel though...Talk about energy. Yanked my camera from me and took these herself. Then had the gall to say, 'I've got you covered, shorty'. That's not my nickname. Don't think it is. I would've stamped her for that! But she's...punky. A woman in leather isn't a woman to mess with. Actually talking to her wasn't so bad. Just a lot. Like a LOT, whew. For now, She's cool. Cool Sissel."

"Nevermind. This one was a handful. 'Delune'. I would've had a nickname for her but oh well. Delune is kind of pretty, honestly. Her and her name, I mean. I would start another debate about hair shape but I'll hold back. YOU get to know though: Crescent. Lune, the moon, crescent hair? Figured her out. Anyway, handful like I said. I got the picture of her, and she just started showing me her fuckton of pictures she had of you. Well. Her you. But still!! Her bag was full of them!! She kept going and going about every single one and the memory behind them and on and on. Tell me. Do I prattle on like that when I talk about you?? I was only able to escape from her because OTHER Sissels were starting their Yomiel stories too....I wish I brought pictures of you..."

"I AM SO SORRY. While escaping I almost stepped on her. She's watching me write her note. This is Lampy. I was going to say Flowey but something about it felt wrong. So, she's Lampy. Miel, I cannot stress enough how little she is. I started tearing up at the idea I could've crushed her. Thank gods she glows. As an apology I have become her chariot, so this doesn't happen again. I'm kind of surprised a Sissel like this could be out there but at the same time, considering how I got here? Should've seen it coming. Lampy is telling me about her world and how everyone is just like her. Little foods and objects. I want to go...Hey, can you guess what thing her Miel is? You get 1 chance..."

[skimmingmilk]

reread Archie issue 4 where Sonic and Tails fight about Tails dad in prison and Sonic hooking up w Fiona and was wondering if you'd ever have them fight like that in your work? Admittedly your Unleashed fic is one of my favorites because they're arguing, even if a large part was due to Sonic being more influenced by negative emotion. I love all your work, that one just stands out to me most because of the tension!

Hi anon, I'm assuming you're talking about the House of Cards story arc?

First, thank you! I'm glad moments like that in my writing stand out to you <3 I enjoy writing tension as much as I do comfort, lol.

Now, I haven't read much Archie myself. I've heard there are some good stories in there, but I just had a hard time getting past the art style in the earlier issues, even as a kid, so didn't ever get into them. I do know of Sonic and Tails's fight though, and I have to admit, I'm not the biggest fan. For me, it feels like a missed opportunity to have them fight about something that actually makes sense for them to be at odds over.

Sonic and Tails don't fight or argue that often, so when they do I feel like it should be more meaningful. I really can't see either of them making the decision that they did which led to that fight. It's just not believable to me, and maybe it's because I didn't read all of the build-up in the issues beforehand, but to me there are more satisfying ways to put them on opposite sides of an issue that fits their characters better. But that's just my perception of them. Others may feel differently!

That being said, it's probably safe to say I won't have them fight like that in my fics xD I don't really like when they fight fight, and they don't like it either! I like to give them opposing conflicts or disagreements, but they both love and respect each other too much to let it get much beyond that.

They can get frustrated with each other, they can want or need some space, they can snap at each other in the heat of the moment, but it’s all so brief. Tails is more likely to hold grudge, sure, but Sonic won’t. It’s not worth it to him. Sonic might be said to have a "quick temper" but he doesn't really tend to dwell on things. If Tails makes him mad, it’s a matter of minutes before he’s brushed it off and moved on. Water under the bridge. And while Sonic’s not great at apologizing, he’s very good at making it hard to stay mad at him. It helps that whatever he did was likely unintentional, he rarely wants to hurt someone’s feelings (unless it’s Eggman lol). All it really takes for Tails to “get over” the occasional spat is for Sonic to just see him. Meet him where he’s at.

Even in the Unleashed fic, they're snappy with one another because they're both sleep-deprived and Tails is reacting to stress with more stress, while Sonic's reacting to the stress by flat out ignoring it's existence. As soon as Sonic realizes Tails is actually upset though? He's backing down, he's not pushing any more buttons. He doesn't want to be on the other side of an issue from Tails, he wants to be right there beside him. So they can get through it together.

There'll definitely be more moments like that between them, because I do love the tension, too, but in terms of putting them in a position where they'd physically fight each other or that actually threatens their bond? That's probably not going to happen. At least not when either of them are in their right frame of mind. Tails knows there's no way he'd win a physical fight with Sonic, and Sonic also knows this. Or, well, Tails might win, but only because Sonic would refuse to hit him xD I'm sorry, for me, there's no universe where Sonic thinks beating up his little brother is an a-okay way to solve any conflict with him. Archie might not have the bullying backstory for Tails (I don't think it does?), but since my fics do, Sonic would never intentionally lay a hand on him, even in self-defense. If Tails is mad enough to hit him, then Sonic figures he's probably got a good reason for it.

Thanks for the ask!

[blackcatxmagic]

"Terpsichore...Kira..." Brook repeated, trying to figure out how Kira could be a nickname for that. Maybe it was an alias or something; this movie was sounding wilder and wilder the more they talked about it. Deciding not to worry about that now (it seemed like he'd be finding out soon anyway if River had anything to say about it), Brook refocused on his new friend, laughing at how forward he was. It was actually nice to see someone so sure of themselves (or at least pretending to be), and the attention was definitely flattering. "You like to flirt, don't you?" Brook asked, smirking at River. "It's okay, it's not a bad thing. Is this your way of asking if I want to watch the movie with you?" The answer would be yes, though Brook felt like River would find some way to persuade him even if he tried to say no.

As he continued listening to the other, Brook looked at him sternly, pretending to be perturbed. "Hey, I'm already past 40 you know," he said gruffly, but then Brook started to laugh; he knew River hadn't meant anything by what he had said. "40 was actually my benchmark for when I'd have my life straightened out, and, well...I'm about to be 42, so I've missed the mark a little." Or possibly a lot - Brook's life was pretty far off from what he thought it would be at this point. "Let's just say we're both still young enough to find out bliss," Brook decided. "I guess everyone is unless they're dead." He just hoped they wouldn't always be searching for it. Grinning at River, Brook replied coyly, "It's an okay outcome, sure."

"It's really nice of you to help your aunt," Brook said as they continued along. "I hope she appreciates it." He hated the thought of someone taking advantage of a kind soul like River. It made him sad to hear the other talk about being lonely, and the truth was that Brook could empathize. "I've been spending most of my nights alone too," he replied, realizing that that was a sort of loaded comment to make, some unspoken suggestion just below the words, but really Brook didn't mean them in any particular way. "It's been hard for me to really find my place," Brook went on somberly, not realizing how much this bothered him until now. "I don't really think I'd found my place back in Salem either, but I'd been so busy all the time that it hadn't really bothered me. Here though...I think about it a lot more." Suddenly feeling a little melancholy, Brook sighed, apologizing, "I'm sorry. I'm really bringing the mood down."

River nodded "She is, shes actually the muse Terpsichore, but simply goes by Kira..." They rambled and then stopped themselves again, getting too excited. "Well, I'm always game for movie nights..." They mused, even if they knew that they were unlikely to pay attention in the company of such a hot guy- though they for once kept their lips zipped at that admission. "I can of course, I'm extremely flexible in what I can show off..." They purred, unable to help themselves. The witch sighed "But it's only 9 years away from 40 with literally nothing to show, it's crazy" The blonde whined at the thought, though they then shrugged it off- such was their nature. "There's nothing stopping you from finding the right one, it should never be based on age, what matters is that you continue to enjoy yourself, at least indulge in the pleasure of others from time to time, hm?" They mused, a small smirk on their lips as they spoke. "I'd like to think that's a very excellent outcome..." They mused, their tone still flirtatious, unable to help themselves with it. "Hm, perhaps..." They chuckled, giving a playful grin at them "It's mostly about reading people in their expressions, trick words, making them express their desires to you subconsciously and then you pick up on them" They explained. "Oh my aunt is a real tough gal, I'm mostly here to just help with groceries, fixing up her home...You know, just an extra set of hands. Plus, free room and board for me to save up for the big leagues" They joked. "Well, I'm not sure. It's been lonely I must admit, I'm used to sharing a bed with people either nightly, or for short bursts....I've had no actual action in this sleepy little town" The snickered, finding it easy to be honest with Brooke. "But I can admire the quaint, pretty nature of the town?. You should totally go and meet your family!" They then chided playfully. "I'm glad you have your place here though"