#im better than i ever was. i'm not washed. i'm not any worse than i was back all those days ago when i first started to post

[unknownati]

xi. slow morning

a/n: from my draftz if theres typos dont tell me im blind and proud... as a side note i feel like i write intimacy better than anything else AM I TWEAKING.

warnings/tags: gn!reader, no use of y/n, no desc of reader's physical features, fluff and smut, short, handjob (e! recieving—very ekko focused), intimacy (both nonsexual and sexual), cuddling, morning sex, modern!ekko, slight sub!ekko, hoping this position is understandable lol, no morning breath mentions y'all arent in each others face, half-proofread...meaning i gave up halfway thru. goodnight! 🙋🏾‍♀️

_______________________________________________

warm slivers of sunlight seep through cracks in the curtains, spilling on your face as your eyes fluttered open, making a slow ascent into consciousness.

you're met with a phone screen, a pair of hands framing the device. ekko's. a thumb swipes along the screen, transitioning into the next video. two cats cuddling. you watch him hover over the send button, tap it, choose your profile, and type the message 'us :)' before sending it to you. your phone buzzes faintly on the nightstand, though you don't reach for it.

gentle breaths seep into your ears from behind you, relaxed and steady. a shift in movement, warmth enveloping your figure—his arms, which you reach up to stroke. his hold is protective and grounded.

he was long awake before you, you can tell from the way his voice sounds, smooth and airy.

"morning, angel."

it's a stark contrast from when he first wakes up. he sounds more gruff. more miserable. much like how you sound now.

you groan, soft. you stretch to rub the sleep out of your eyes. "g'morning."

you don't feel miserable, though. far from it. waking up in his arms is the only way you've ever liked waking up.

neither of you will be getting up any time soon. not with the way your legs are tangled together, the way he presses a tender kiss against the shell of your ear as a secondary greeting, it's all too...weighted. too comfortable to just brush past. it's the weekend, anyway.

you turn, neck slightly craned, forehead pressing into his clavicle. his scent clings to him, as intoxicating and heavenly as ever. the faint traces of last night's shower linger. you know he used your body wash—he always did. shea butter lied above a layer of his basic lotion (eucerin, you put him on since he has drier skin), completed with that divine cologne he uses. forest-y, notes of pine and bergamot.

your fingertips drag along the bare skin of his side, and he twitches away from your touch. a breathy laugh exits him.

"that tickles."

you stop, moving down to his core. "sorry," you murmur. it's half-sincere.

your digits dance across the surface of his stomach, quite literally. you create legs with your pointer and middle finger, making your little hand-person do twirls and jumps. his laughs bubbles again.

"that tickles worse," his chin meets the crown of your head when he looks down, unable to catch your expression. a hand meets your nape, mimicking your movements.

it's featherlight and playful, as if bugs are scuttling along your skin. you laugh the same as he does, shoulders shrugging up in discomfort.

"okay, okay! i'm sorry."

his hand settles at the bottom of your back, right where your spine curves inward. it's relaxed at first, but then it presses. pulls you closer. as if there's even any more space to close.

your legs wrap around his waist, the leg which you lay on pushing beneath his hip to raise it. it's only uncomfortable for a second, then it's like you're slowly melting into each other's forms. bare chest to bare chest, chins resting on the other's shoulder, hearts swelling at the same speed. you know your leg will fall asleep soon, but you don't care.

yet, he's not paying enough attention to you. not as much as you'd like. sure, his hand is stroking your back. sure, he still seems like he's trying to find ways to pull you closer. but his focus strays. it's all on his phone, undeserving.

his eyes stay glued to the screen, darting around. some video about owls. his hand was beginning to falter, his affection slowing.

greedy. you need more. you know how to get it.

you shift away and your hand meets his side again. he flinches, assuming you're continuing with your ticklish movements. he settles once realizing you won't. then it trails, a slow drag down towards the front of his boxers—a light blue pair with snoopy and woodstock printed in an even pattern. you bought them for him a while back, and he was never one to complain. plus, they were comfy.

only when your fingers breach the elastic band did he notice what you were doing. he doesn't stop you.

he wasn't soft for very long after you reveal his length. feeling it grow stiff in your hands made your heart rate pick up.

"i've barely even touched you yet," you murmur, turning to litter his neck with open-mouthed kisses. he groans in response.

his tip prods at your naval once his dick is standing at full attention. an airy chuckle flows from you into his ears. your fist closes just below the head, thumb reaching to rub along the sensitive underside. each vein, each ridge that you trace over elicits a whine��ones that are close to melodic, satisfying hums to your ears.

your hand moves agonizingly slow, long strokes that leave his mind going fuzzy. it's not long until his tip starts crying, which you happily collect as lubricant. his brows knit together, delicate gasps overlapping the video in the background.

ekko's face nuzzles into the junction connecting your neck and shoulder, plump lips pressing into the end of your collarbone. his moans muffle against your skin.

"hidin'?" you ask, your free hand reaching to run through his locs. he nods, slowly thrusting his hips up into your fist, meeting your movements halfway.

a small noise clicks behind you, and whatever video he was watching stopped. then a thud against the mattress. he dropped his phone. another arm clamps around you, and you know you've got him good.

finally, the attention is on you. his grasp on your body is tight, the sweet desperate nothings he whispers into your ears as he curses and begs you not to stop are angelic.

"fuck...don't stop. please, you make me feel s-so good. god, baby—"

you loosely echo his words back to him, voice sultry and raspy. "yeah?" you purr. "feels good?"

your wrist flicks faster, too quick for his lazy hips to keep up with. he loses rhythm, his pants stutter. he murmurs something, too shyly for you to hear, yet you can only assume he's coming undone. your theory is quickly confirmed, his movements slowing to a stop as he releases all over your hand and tummy, fingertips pressing into your back.

if only you could hear his pretty cries better. against your skin, they're low and subdued, but you can hear the incantations of your name paired with his voice breaking off at the peak of his climax.

neither of you realized how tense his body had become until he relaxes against you, hand still weakly skimming along your lower back.

still, your bodies were heavy. neither of you wanted to move. but the cum dripping off you was starting to feel weird, and you want it off.

you barely even get to think about moving before his arms squeeze tighter around you. "ekko, i wanna go wipe this off."

"not yet," he whispers shakily. "just...a few more minutes. can't be done with you yet."

you've definitely won his attention. for a few hours.

[ilyfynn]

its a beautiful life. fynn hits 100k written this year. it's been a long journey and i thank everyone who has ever even clicked onto a work of mine. its difficult, sometimes, being stupid and a writer simultaneously. ignore the low numbers im a small fandom writer and i have a nother account ok

similarly, my mcsrtober also reached 1k hits which makes it my first fic with 1k hits yay thank you <3

highlights below. im gonna ramble ofc i am

swallow's mate. yeah its not the longest fic ever but i put so much time and effort and i am so so so so so so so proud of it and will always be. the world is a river of crackling chaos and i am the vengeance that simmers inside it

hiraeth. YES I WILL FINISH IT ONE DAY. ITS GOT REALLY NICE LORE. being the first bigger project i've tried to write since i unretired from mcsr, i adored being able to a) worldbuild and b) WRITE IN CHAPTERS. its so hard to write fics in one go my patience wears itself out

lappel du vide. you know nothing about lappel yet. you know nothing, but the plan was like 4k words and now you know something. boy do i have things planned for these stupid ranked runners. the darkness came when doogile was just a boy, after all

mcsrtober. im not as proud of my mcsrtober because i like editing things over and over and over again and mcsrtober simply doesnt allow the time for that. however i think i cooked really hard on some of the prompts and the ones yet to come (peepocute banger one on the 26th i think). like day 2. a full-on 4+1 fic. beautiful

there's a lot to come, i think. theres so many thoughts and not enough time to express them, and im only going to get more and more busy from now on. it's going to be walright. you know, theres a cool thing called a winter big bang, and the word count is projected to be around 18k...and its a oneshot...........................

then i can retire from writing longfics in one go and go back to chaptered becuase WOW chaptered is easier. AHHHHHHH

thank you for reading. this and all my fics. thank you @goober890 (i would be a liar if i didnt say i tried to tag ur ao3 😭) for being the first ever member of the fynn fanclub. thank you @bioluminescentfrog for putting up with me through the whole process of the fics to come. its been - not quite a long journey, but an eventful one all the same. from one mongey to another, i salute all of you.

i

[xoxochb]

i saw you asking for requests and i thought i would give a kinda basic one but like idk i have a feeling it will turn out good (im really bad with requests)

but like jason grace x child of aphrodite reader with false god by taylor swift maybe the lyrics "And you can't talk to me when I'm like this daring you to leave me just so I can try and scare you" but honestly any part of the song you see fit!!

all my love, amanda 🎀

⋆·˚ ༘ * even if it’s a false god, we’d still worship this love

warnings: arguing, kissing, this might be cringe? also takes place at chb because I can’t write the setting at camp jupiter to save my life

pairing: jason grace x daughter of aphrodite

“he’s my friend, that’s it! do you know what a friend is?” you asked angrily

you had been arguing about th”is for a half an hour now.

you had been talking to one of your male friends at the campfire, just catching up, but jason took it the wrong way when he caught you laughing at one of his jokes, hitting his arm playfully

“I know what a friend is, which is why I’m saying that he doesn’t want to be just your friend” jason replied

“oh my gods, you are so-” you cut yourself off, trailing your hands down your face as a way to calm yourself down

“so what? say it” he demanded

“relentless. you won’t let this go, why can’t you trust that we’re just friends” you say with a a calm tone, but your anger takes over, “leave”

a strong look of worry makes its way to his face, “what? what do mean?”

“leave, go away” you shoot him a glare, crossing your arms

“this is my cabin” you sigh at his words

“well I’m done” you mutter

“done with-” realization washes over him, “no- please, we can talk”

“we are talking, and you don’t trust me, it’s too late at night to deal with this” snapped

“I do trust you, I trust you more than anyone, I’m just worried. you’re a daughter of aphrodite, you’re gorgeous, everyone wants to be with you, I can’t help but feel you’ll leave me for someone better” he confessed

you think for a moment. maybe you had been to harsh… you begin to think that maybe this argument wouldn’t have started if you had asked him for further detail.

the more you think about his words, the worse it makes you feel

guilt.

that’s what you feel

extremely guilty that you yelled at him for being scare you would leave him, it wasn’t fair

“jase- listen, I’m sorry, I would never leave you, ever. you’re the one I want, not some other stupid boys, just you, and I’m sorry that I didn’t realize how you felt, I feel awful” you grab his hands and cup them in yours, looking up at him with a begging-look, hoping he understands your words, “but I really hope you trust me when I say I don’t want anyone else in this universe but you”

“but what if-” you cut him off with a finger to his lips

“no, there is no what-ifs, I only want you, idiot” you sigh, pulling him in for a passionate kiss, and he pulls you in closer by your waist

you let your hands travel up to the back of his neck, pushing him closer to you, and he lets out a content sigh as you do so, and you know you’ve got him to understand

“I don’t want anybody to take you away from me” he says in between breathless kisses

“no one’s going to”

[thatoneandlonelyemo2005]

Based on this post and @make-friends-with-the-rats (for the idea) i have made this little fic. Will say some places i feel are out of character but i tried so hard, also focused more on blush than anything and I don't know how that happend and this was supposed to be about David and Mush.

Maybe I'll come back to it one day to fix it. Or write something new but for now have the queer boys.

-

Mush was tried. More tired than he had ever been when selling. Sure he was ready to fight for the price of papes but he still felt tired. After Crutchy got taken he started to feel the rage. But he knew he couldn't. Especially after Kid Blink had come to him with torn knuckles and his cheek beginning to bruise. Mush only sighed and hugged him. He opened his eyes and looked around at the lodge, everyone taking care of each other. Jack was nowhere to be seen, yet he saw David walk up the stairs. Fire escape.

"You hurt Nick?" Blink asked, more worried about him than his own self.

Mush mumbled a 'no' while snapping back into reality. Sure his hands hurt and maybe his lip was split but nothing was worse than Blink. Taking him to the bathroom Mush held onto his hand lightly. As if it was their normal nights. Which it was. Even when they weren't having a strike, Kid Blink loved his fights.

Mush grabbed the wound wash and bandages as Blink sat on the counter. Now looking into his eye Mush sighed deeply. Pinching the bridge of his nose. "Ya know David told you to back off."

Kid Blink instantly glared, "Yeah well-"

"Louis I don't need you dead." Mush closed his eyes, he could take the fights. He really could. But not this one. "They had chains, Louis. Knives with other sharp stuff-you just-"

"Nick, look at me." Blink held his face, "I know what David told me okay, but when Jack-"

"That's another thing!" Even Mush flinched back at his sudden yell. "You Skittery, and Jack just go in without thinking. Especially when there is someone in the crowd who loves you, Louis."

Blink hopped off the counter. His face now started to get red out of anger. "Loves me? Nick, you don't think I'm doing the same thing? Trying to protect your ass. I'd rather get all broken than have you laying dead in the streets."

Mush stopped. He didn't know what to do. He never thought of it that way. "Then the point still stands."

"That don't make no sense." Blink put a hand on his hip, the other running through his hair. "Nick you fought too-"

"So? Whens a guy comin' up to ya-"

"Then you punch them like me." The bathroom went silent. He was right. Both were right in a way. The stress was getting to them. Any of them. Not just himself and Blink. Everyone started to get snippy with each other. Leading to stupid fights. Like this one.

"Blink, I-im sorry." Mush hugged himself, head hung in shame.

Blink walked forward and lifted his chin up, "Don't be sorry Mush. Okay. Just a lot ya know."

Mush nodded and felt tears ready to fall from his eyes, "I just don't wanna lose ya, Louis."

Leaning in Kid Blink kissed him softly yet full of meaning. "You won't Nick. Trust me okay." "Okay," Mush whispered. He held onto him tightly

Blink smiled into his neck, "Come on Nicky, I still need a doctor."

"Shut up." Mush rolled his eyes and broke the hug. He wanted to hug again. Wanted to hold him forever.

Kid Blink kissed his cheek and sat on the counter. Holding out his hands like always. "Mush Myers I love you."

Mush giggled and felt his cheeks heat up, "Louis Ballittie I love you too."

David looked around at the streets. They were full of newsies. All jumping about, ready for Tibbys. But something was eating at him. Especially when he saw Jack and Kid Blink play fighting. He sighed deeply. No one seemed to listen to him.

"David!" Maybe one did. "Hey Mush." Mush gave him a side hug, "I wanted to talk to you about something. Been on my mind ya know."

"Sure Mush, what is it?" Although he instantly felt better. Especially when Mush was around him. He was his friend after all.

Mush let his shoulders drop and his face frowned slightly, "Look Dave, I've been thinking what you said, about not fighting the scabs."

David raised an eyebrow, "Yes?"

Mush looked towards Kid Blink and Jack, "I think it's getting too violent."

'FINALLY' David screamed inside his head. "Yeah I'd say so but wheres this coming from Mush? Didn't you punch a guy-"

"YES, I punched a guy. But David." He looked to Blink again. "I'm just worried okay. I don't know what to do."

David followed his gaze and now saw Blink and Jack laughing rather than their play fight they had. "I don't know either Mush."

They fell silent. Mostly watching the others as they still continued to Tibbys. Mush was frowning. Not like he didn't you just don't really see that. Or at least David didn't. But he was right. They shouldn't be fighting but they are. Everyone was at fault really. David could only take it in and analyze it to no end. He never slept anyways. Why start now

"Look Dave, I just-well, I care about someone a lot and-"

"It's alright Mush I know what you mean." He smiled softly at him.

Mush's eyes widen but David nudge his shoulder to make him not panic. "Trust me Mush, alright."

Mush nodded and looked up at the sun. A hand over his eyes but enough to see it bright and hot as ever. Turning back to David he smirked, "Have you've kissed Jack yet?"

David's face turned red. "No!" But he quickly slapped a hand over his mouth. Mush only laughed. "He's just stupid."

"Yeah, he is." Mush laughed again. "Still Dave, im worried about it getting too violent. I can patch up Blink's wounds over and over again but I don't need to see him dead.

Dead. What a word. He repeated in his head till he saw Jacks's body. Bloody and beaten. He hated it. Squeezing his eyes shut he prayed nothing would happen like that. To anyone. Not just Jack. But his friends. He would always worry about them. "They're not listing to me Mush. What else can I do."

"Tell Jack?" Mush said as if it was so simple.

David shook his head. He brings a finger to his mouth and chews on the skin around the fingernail. "Still too stupid."

Mush sighed. "Maybe he is. But." He faced David and took his finger gently away from his mouth. "Both of our boys are stupid and we still love them."

David eyes widen. Love was another funny word to him. Never really used it before besides for family. Looking at Jack and his stupid hair, stupid eyes, and stupid cowboy hat with is bandanna. He wanted nothing more than to kiss him.

"David. We gotta keep trying okay. We'll win the strike then everything can go back to normal."

Normal. Would that mean school again? He hated that word. He knew that much. "I-i'll talk to Jack. Or try too."

Mush gave another smile but it was big, showing all his teeth. "Just give him a kiss. It makes everything seem better."

David glared but did feel his cheeks redden. Maybe he would kiss Jack. That could fix the strike. Or he hoped.

[digenerate-trash]

Im begging for Bailey yan content please

I’m thinking about… (Let’s act that Bailey hasn’t stationed any guards around us)

We somehow end up in the underground(?) brothel where we got abducted or actually sold by Whitney?? (i’m such a dumbass, i haven’t known what goes in dol entirely)

So like, Bailey also (wink) hasn’t made any deal with Briar about not touching us (wink). Will he go apeshit on the clients? Will he go apeshit on Briar? Or will he just, drag us out?

- your beloved Bailey fucker, ty.

AMAB Bailey | GN pc

It's been a brutal week in the underground. Every fucking day is a fresh hell and no matter how much you fight or scream or complain or cry nothing seems to stop the brutal onslaught. This wasn't supposed to happen! He said you were safe...

You're slumped up against the cold concrete wall of the little cell you've practically given up. Every "client" that comes into contact with you is more violent and fucked up than the last. Your hands are covered in dried blood and bruises and your face and throat hurt from the rough treatment. You don't even want to know what's in store for you next. 

You can hear someone coming... you're considering just playing dead this time. Maybe they'll leave you alone. Or at least go easier on you... 

But when the door opens and the light hits your face it's not a client that looks over your battered body. It's Brair.

He's gentle... or at least he's trying to be. He covers you in a towel and helps you up off the floor. "It's your lucky day," he says pulling you down the cold corridors into the main building. "Someone's here to pick you up." 

You're still dazed, Confused, and a little sick as you make it to Briar's office. Standing there is the liar himself, Bailey. As stoic and unfeeling as ever.

You can barely look at him as you stand there. Face-to-face with him for the first time in a week.

"They look fucked." Bailey complains, but none of you move. 

"You didn't get here soon enough," Brair says pushing you forward a bit towards Bailey. 

Bailey's hand twitches slightly as he looks over you. You don't know whether he's more pissed at you or briar. it's not like this is your fault. But Bailey would probobly blame you anyway.

Suddenly he grabs you and runs his hands over you carefully. He pokes and examines every bruise, mark, bite, and scratch on you. Then he pulls your mouth open checking you over. You're not sure what he's looking for, but his disgruntled noises don't exactly make you feel better. 

When Bailey finally stops he grips your arm tightly before glaring back at Brair. "I want a list of every person who touched them." 

"That's not the deal. You said you wanted them back. And here they are." Brair seems bored with the conversation. He barely addresses you as he goes back to his desk.

"You used my property- You're lucky I'm not charging you!" Bailey's grip tightens around your arm and you wince. 

"You should have kept them on a tighter leash then. They were sold to me." Brair says as he rummages through his desk for a moment. 

"Sold by who?!" Bailey is on the verge of yelling as he slams his fist on Brair's desk. His nails are cutting into your skin now. 

"Why don't you ask your property they were pretty admit that my people take them instead of their little blonde. friend." 

Bailey looks over at you again in a sort of shock before he masks it with anger again and starts to shove you out of Briar's office. 

Bailey doesn't seem to want to talk as he drags you home. You pass by your room and his office. 

He unlocks the back door to his small apartment and brings you inside. His movements are methodical but harsh. He's never gentle with you but this is worse somehow... it's colder. 

He finally throws you into his bathtub and yanks the towel away from you. Bailey starts the water and rolls up his sleeves. It's an hour or so of washing you. He cleans the dirt from you carefully even digging his fingers into your hole to wash you out properly. He's still rough as ever. But it's still nice to be cared for...

The water turns a muddy Grey throughout the bath and when Bailey pulls the plug you are finally starting to feel okay again before Bailey grips your hair forcing you to look at him

"I want every detail you can remember from the people who touched you at the brothel. Including that whore at school who tried to sell you."

You whinper a bit looking up at Bailey. You can tell he's serious...

[ateriblewriter]

25 with Auston :) congratulations on 200 followers love <3

hey friend!! 😄 thank you again! i hope you enjoy this, because i very much enjoyed writing this! 😏

25. "It's just a headache, I'm fine."

"hey, drink this." auston held a bottle of clear cool liquid out for you. he could tell you weren't feeling well by the look of exhaustion smeared across your face. the long excursion outside in the heat setting off a chain reaction inside your body.

"little sips." he reminded after your snatched the drink out his hand. uncapping the container you take his direction sipping the liquid. it was hard not to listen to your body and chug the water.

you weren't the biggest water drinker, or drink of liquid in general. when you needed something you drank, but you didn't actively have the recommend amount of liquid a day. it was something you had been working on getting better at. but it wasn't easy.

"any better?"

"no auston. im not." your irritation very apparent. you had finished the only bottle of water the was available and your body screamed for more.

sighing auston attempted to push back some of the baby hair that were plastered to face with sweat, as if that was going to do any good. the back of his hand brushing up against your forehead.

"y/n, you're burning" you pull your head back from his hand, eyes snapping closed. "your head hurt?"

"it's just a headache, i'm fine. i'm fine."

"have you taken anything for it?" he already knew the answer, still needing to asked the question just in case. even though he was with you the entire time and would have seen if you took something.

"no." although you always had a bottle of over the counter pain meds on you incase of emergency, you rarely ever took them. in this case as your head was pounding and your body was losing fluids, taking those meds just may have made your condition worser rather than better.

"good. that would have probably made it worse. maybe we should go back home. we can get you some more water and you can take a nap. that should help. I don't want you dying on me or anything." he kissed your temple.

you would have given some snappy response to his comment on dying but a there was churning in starting in your stomach. you were pretty sure that if you opened your mouth to say words, something a little more disgusting would come out.

but you agreed with him. going home would be for the best.

once at your humble abode and in the safety of your shared bedroom, you strip to nothing, removing the soaking wet clothing. auston made you finish a couple more glasses of water and at least a little something with a few more electrolytes before you were able to slip into slumber in the cool air conditioning. as an added measure to get your temperature, auston placed a cold wash cloth over your forehead.

auston checked in on you every so often. he never attempted to wake you, wanting you get the much needed rest your body was asking for. but after a couple of hours of fretting he figured it was time for some more rehydration along with another frozen cloth.

"hey babe." he rubbed his thumb along your cheek that was still warm with fever. you looked so peaceful peace lying there, he almost didn't want to wake you. though it was probably for the best he did. "its time to drink something."

"babe wake up." he tried again when he couldn't get you to open your eyes. you always had a hard time waking up when you were in such a deep sleep.

this felt different though. a bad kind of different. and it scared him.

"y/n! hey." auston shook your shoulder still to no effect. this wasn't good. maybe it was time to get you a little more help than he was able to provide.

"please open your eyes y/n."

ateriblewriter's 200 follower celly

[softhairedhotch]

hii hope ure doing well <3 i recently thought of a potential fic idea that u might like HEHE... considering there's many fics about like bau!reader wearing like skirts in efforts to tempt aaron. i was like.. Hm. what if No skirts???

so instead: reader who typically wears suits! and one day reader decides to upgrade their wardrobe after finding a good tailor n getting a bonus pay check 😋😋 MAYBEEE reader doesn't necessarily mean to tempt aaron in any way but aaron is AFFECTED . (this could be like pre-relationship or after they get together)

poor man is literally trying so hard not to let his eyes linger n keep his wandering thoughts at bay but it's tough considering he thinks reader is So Damn Fine

bonus: one day it gets unbelievably humid so reader takes off the jacket n rolls their sleeves up... and ofc we all know rolled up shirt sleeves = sluttiest look Ever . hence, aaron's mind Just. Malfunctions. bc i feel, even god's strongest men, will crumble at the sight of THE slutty whoreish rolled up shirt sleeves look ‼️‼️‼️‼️

- 🤲

AHHH HEY!! i'm doing well thanks, hope you are too!! i was gonna reply to this last night when you first sent it but i couldn't open the ask on my phone bc the formatting fucked up and i couldn't read it </33 but im on my computer now hehe

also i LOVE this idea omg it's so good

aaron would be so flustered bless him, he just can't look away from you and how your new suits somehow look even BETTER on you than the ones you used to wear. it just fits you so well and makes you look soooo good and the poor man thinks he might lose his mind tbh :') he feels bad n unprofessional bc of the way he's looking at you and he thinks you might think he's being creepy but tbh you're LOVING the attention hehe bc you can tell it's getting to him 🤭🤭 it's even better if you're not dating at the time bc you finally realise that he might fr be into you and you're in that fun lil stage of dancing around each other while making it super obvious that you're into each other hehe

n YESSS his mind would Crumble at the sight omgg!! he'd be unable to look away from your arms and hands and he'd be thinking about all the places they could (and should 🤭) be hehehe. and he loves the way your shirt fits you soooooo much and he's losing himself in the thoughts of what you look like beneath HEHE. but then obviously that makes him feel WORSE bc he's thinking stuff he knows he shouldn't about you but he can't help it because you just look SO GOOD and all he wants to do is kiss you hehe :3 he'd have to excuse himself because he's just so flustered bless

it'd also be fun if you followed him to the bathroom and asked if he was okay and teased him a lil bit by standing close as you wash your hands and he's just staring at you with NO CLUE WHAT TO DO because holy shit he wasn't expecting a) you to be into it and b) YOU TO BE MAYBE DOING IT ALL ON PURPOSE??? he just knows that once the day is over, you and he are gonna have a talk hehe and it's up to you if it ends up with going on a date or you end up fucking in his office <3

[loneworldgazer]

what if you were their personal helper?

a/n: im biased on all of these because basically you're special to them in a type of way

part 2

warnings: chapter 189-206 spoilers‼‼, suggestive, violence mentions

sanzu

you would be his personal cook that mikey assigned

you really worked hard at making the best dishes for sanzu (1. 50/50 chance of getting killed because you might never know with his pill popping ass and 2. you don't want to purposely mess up good ingredients)

sanzu though, really loves your dishes

he would say horrendous compliments like how he was about to have an orgasm biting into the steak minutes ago (rindou looks up at him from his laptop in disgust while ran scoffs in amusement)

ran suggested to maybe gift you something or pay a visit to whoever is cooking his meals and damn well sanzu was thrilled to hear that idea and was ready to work on it

(the haitani brothers thought the same, that you were probably going to shit your pants if bonten's number 2 suddenly appeared right beside you out of nowhere)

the very next day, his preffered time of lunch was much more later than the others so it's pretty normal for the others to not see him at the table and knowing that he's doing his own business

but this is completely different than what he usually does, he's looking for you! and there you were, in the flesh and busy preparing his meal

you look rather panicked, oh how many guesses he had. it was near his lunch time, you cooked the wrong meal, you're panicking about the slighest things or you thought you were doing it wrong

turns out you just wanted to cut the right size of tomatoes because you cut one ridiculously large chunk so you huffed and picked another tomato and nearly laughed at your stupidity

well sanzu was correct in some ways but you were just minutes away in finishing so he watched

with every second he stepped closer and the closer he got which was just right over your shoulder, you squeled because 1) creepy and 2) his breath was tickling your neck that you just had to make noise

you grabbed your wrist and your finger bled, in the state of suprise you accidently cut your thumb, luckily it was only a little so you rushed to the sink to wash it off

sanzu had a smile on his face, oh woops accidently shocked a poor person by breathing on them so the best he could do was offering a bandaid that was in his pocket

you glanced at his arm and saw the bonten tattoo inked on it so your eyes lit up in fear in why a bonten member is up infront of you

you gulped and he couldn't help but giggle to how terrified you looked and he twirled the plate that his food on it

"you're almost finished with my food, huh? quickly, you have a few seconds" you looked at him again but with genuine curiousity and suprise that said "sanzu haruchiyo? what is he doing here?"

your thoughts swirled in your head in chaos, finishing up his food and the waiter that were to take his food entered the kitchen

he froze in the doorway, recognizing the feared bonten 2 and sanzu asked him to go away by simply motioning it with his hand as well as adding in a "if you don't go, i'll kill you" by doing a slashing motion across his neck, you did not know how fast the waiter walked out of there

sanzu carried his plate towards the table your partners and you ate at and sat there, tilting his head when you stayed at the same spot

"sit here, i wanna talk" shitting your pants is a understatement, dying should be the right term

but no worries when you sat down, he smiled again with his eyes closed (though you're not sure what kind of smile was this, his rare ones? because if it is then you can make it out of here without being out in a grave)

let's just say he was interested in you and he said quite some nice words to you, this won't be the first time he'll crash into your life and have moments of talking to you after all, you're his cook right?

you're just lucky enough when he decides that you're one of the few pieces he'll cherish in his life, one he wouldn't kill but respect deeply and stick around with

kokonoi

you were his respectable assistant that deals with errands, well a more better term is a spy

you listened to conversations about bonten in the dark and sneak off to inform the others, first of all koko of course

your relationship between him was proffesional and all, reporting about what bonten enemies have said, nod and leave

but there was a time where he finally got to know you a bit better

you were a bit later than the time he asked for you to come to his office after your work, about 10 minutes atleast and he raised his eyebrow at you when you slipped into his office out of breath but quickly regain it as to not piss him off any further

"sorry sir, i got attacked" attacked you say? he got up from his seat, slowly approacing you and you sweat

overall his demeanor was cocky and all but you've never seen a scary side so supposingly it's okay for you to not feel threatened but would he really be angry at you for getting attacked?

"i don't see any bruises on you, did you really get attacked?" that sly grin showcased itself, he felt the taste of a lie coming but it didn't when you spoke up again

"i fought back sir, with this." you pulled out the staff, pressing the button to open it and twirled it over for him to see

it was the staff he gave, well actually showed off when he opened the weapons room, telling you to atleast get a weapon to defend yourself, if you can even though (he halfly joked at the end with his tongue out)

you told him that it was the gang that was still gaining these "leaks and secrets" or so to speak, are the ones rindou falsely put out in the open and the gang planned to go to one of the secret bases that bonten usually went to

besides what you say is necessary information but he circled around you in silence and decided to try to hit your head but you smack his hand away with the staff

he went for your neck but you swiftly wack the staff into his waist and he groaned, impressed

he was about to say something but sanzu interrupted by opening the door without knocking and almost bumped koko with the door

"heheh sorry, can i borrow your assistant, come come~" sanzu sung out but koko shooed him away, wanting some time to talk to you but pink crazed bastard wanted to talk to you so he shut the door on him and yelled at him to go away for a moment

after that day, more people seem to recognize and fought with you

it would pretty ironic if koko were to be the one ordering them to attack you

" i wanna see you fight more" whatever he says, you just hope it actually isn't him sending mofos to attack you because that would be a d!ck move

but he didn't, one of the bonten members revealed that a little spy is watching them from above like the idiots they were that they bumbled out their secrets for the spy to hear (guess who)

so he rewards you, after the hell you went through, you better be gifted

extra!!:

"may i measure you?" you looked back at the person in shock as they smiled warmly at you and you suspiciously glared at them, reaching slowly for your staff.

"sir kokonoi has asked to measure you." they went to stretch out the measuring tape and held it around your waist, you hesitated on holding up your shirt because of how ticklish and feathery their fingers were. this was all too sudden but you go along with it.

while you twist your shirt up, they placed a note in your back pocket and you questioned on why did they do that, you reached it while they're measuring your legs.

"i'll send someone in to measure your size for your clothing, do you also want lingerie to be part of your gift too?~" the note said and you nearly stumbled into the tailor when you tried rereading it all over again.

"what colour do you want? do you want a matching set?" "no!!"

(koko's probably pissing himself right now, trying to imagine your panicky expression, laughing like a maniac in his office)

ran

you worked as his personal maid and he admired how careful you were

you were pretty noticeable since you took your time on one thing at a time like dusting off shelves and cupboards for a long moment or scrubbing away at the dirt in the plate that stuck too long there (i mean it's reasonable but you stressed over it for a few minutes)

he approached at some times to check on you and he would smile sadistically at times when you look at him like a deer in headlights, wondering what you did wrong to make him approach you himself

he just wanted to praise and point out some of your habits which you rubbed your neck to and nodded to do better next time

it also gave him a chance to see your stretched arm and your hands, especially your knuckles more better than afar (not in a creepy way)

your knuckles were deep red and would have cuts over it and he would leave at that but it got too much for him whenever he came to you and it kept getting worse

he popped the question when you moved his flowers into a pot to sit in the sun when your hands were all bandaged up

"why has the condition of your hands worsen everytime i come to you?" so he did notice, you sighed and told him the truth while you rubbed your bandaged knuckles

"people are picking on me so hitting their faces makes my knuckles hurt and become ugly each time i return back here" he was suprised that you even used your fists and he held your hands and spoke softly

"you didn't use the baton i gave you?" you feel yourself burn, you had to pull away from him and you wanted to jog off into the sun but you akwardly shrugged instead

"i'm a lot more used to using fists to fight plus i.. might have hit my face with the baton once" his laugh was sugary sweet, the rarest you've ever heard but he was laughing at your mistake so you bit your tongue and fumed, going back to arranging his flowers (that he's probably allergic to but keeps them around cause they're pretty💀)

he patted your shoulder, casually correcting himself that it was cute that atleast you did try to use the baton that he lended to you

"i'll teach you, every evening at around 4, i'll train you to use the baton so it's less work for your fists and more for your baton." you responded that mikey had his meal around that time and you had to clean the table cloth after he eats, shyly you admit that he tends to be a little messy when eating

ran smiled, stuffing his hands into his pockets and going off after insulting you one last time

"i'm impressed that you're more careful with the table cloth than your own hands" and that ends the evening with you screaming into your hands because of how frustating, ran haitani bonten executive was

extra!!:

"now i really need you to be honest with me, how do you even fight with your fists?" "your brother teaches me how to break their limbs but i accidently graze the floor sometimes because of how tough the enemy is"

well that was pretty shocking, he looks at you with suprise in his eyes, you also looked at him suprised, you just didn't know how expressive he was and you're finding out about them because of these 4pm sessions.

"doesn't he have a maid that helps him out?" "he says i make great coffee" ran grumbled that you shouldn't even serve a fucker who drinks coffee in the first place and you couldn't help laughing. in exchange for the love of coffee, rindou might as well train you. he's not blind, he sees the bruises on your hands when you return back to the headquarters.

(and to maybe trigger ran a little since he was the one mainly teaching reader his fighting style and not ran and his lame ass baton and he just stole his maid for a few seconds, might as well train them as a reward)

"show me a better compliment and i might stop serving him" "you're good with your hands" you smirked and got up and tapped his shoulders with the baton, teasing him into giving you more compliments

"shut it now before i use my hands to shut you up" "you may at anytime" and he did, now you can imagine what he did lol

[raccoon-the-third]

you don't have to read this but i'm just going to rant about my health a little because i need to get it off my chest also sorry if i spell anything wrong

my health is getting worse by the day the last time it was about this bad i was in the hospital but now no one seems to care they all just want me to go about my life but i am only able to move without being in loads pain if im in the water if i stand up i pass out faster a more often than i ever have my rib is dislocated and everyone just expects me to function like normal i don't think i'm going to get better any time soon i constantly feel like i'm being held together by a frayed peace of yarn only a few thread's connecting my body but if i'm not doing exactly as good as i was a year ago then everyone just tells me to try harder when i can't i'm trying so fucking hard just to stay alive is that not enough for them i don't want to do this anymore i want to be better but i can't i'm not getting any better and i need to give up on thinking i will i need to give up on believing that i'll be able to stand for long enough to wash my hands again i need to give up on thinking things will get better because they won't i'm just going to have to deal with this shit until i die honestly part on me hopes that i die soon just so i can be out of everyone's way and so that i won't have to put up with this any more i just want it all to be over already

[cheelduh]

How to bet your way into someone’s heart. (Highschool AU)

Pairing: Childe x fem!reader

Warnings: Fake weed. Poor Signora smh. Oh yes, lots of swearing. UNEDITED ASF IM LAZY BYE.

Synopsis: Childe is being an infatuated idiot, Lisa has eyes for vending machine chocolate, and Kaeya is desperately in need of a pencil. With all these distractions, there’s no way in hell you’ll be able focus on the task at hand.

This is crack.

I don’t have time.

You think as you race down the hallway, shoes slapping against the floor as you expertly dodge multiple students in your way.

Bullet. You're as fast as a bullet, because everyone around you is a blur and you don't stop, can't stop, not until you meet your target.

It's funny how one can accomplish many challenges and feats they were unable to, merely due to pressure. Pressure is a twisted ugly thing that can gnaw its way into the pit of your stomach and grow like a parasite. Pressure is a parasite that can either bring the best in you, or the worst, but at the cost of one's peace of mind.

"Move it Signora!" You shouted a warning at the senior blocking your way. There wasn't any time for you slow down at that point, and you'd risk bumping into the breakfast club's stall if you swerved to the side, sending juice flying everywhere.

Signora's eyes widened momentarily, getting the gist albeit her anger, and choosing to back up flatly against the locker.

Her lipstick nearly slips from her fingers as you swerve past, a thick gust of wind in your wake.

It messes with the hair she woke up two hours early for.

Signora plots her revenge. You still don't have time.

You nearly kick the door to your home room down, but you can't risk the perfect image your teachers have of you. So you pat down your t-shirt, take five tempting deep breaths, and tentatively knock the door.

The door opens and you're met with a young man, familiar amber pupils welcoming you.

You try not to huff and puff at the cost of your stamina. Thinking back, there's no way in hell you could have physically been that fast.

"Good morning Y/N," Your homeroom teacher gives you a small smile, moving aside to let you in. "Class is just about to start."

You check your watch, then turn to him with an apologetic tone, trying not to crack under the eyes of your classmates. "I'm so sorry Mr.Zhongli, I slept through my alarm."

Your idiot ass forgot to set one because you studied till four in the morning.

"You're like thirty seconds late, cut the shit." Beidou boos from the back, causing your stance to stiffen.

"I don't wanna hear it Beidou. If anything, you're two periods earlier than usual." Ningguang calls her out for you, but you have a feeling it's more so on behalf of a personal vendetta.

Ignoring the two bickering, Mr.Zhongli gives you the handout. "Take a seat. Do not fret over such minuscule things dear."

Relief washes over you. Your impeccable attendance is not on the line.

Childe tries to flag you down next to him but you send him a pointed glare and sit next to Lisa instead.

"You should give him a chance you know." Lisa doesn't even have to open her eyes to know what's going on.

"Please," You scoff, digging through your bags to collect your notes. "As if I have the time to fool around with a shady kid like him."

Your friend sighs in disapproval, and makes no move to take out her own notes as Mr.Zhongli begins the lecture on the Archon war.

"You should really pay attention." It bothers you that she doesn't, but then again it's not your place to tell her what to do or not to do.

"I don't need to." She yawns, blinking an eye open towards you. "I have you after all."

"I'm tired of saving your ass." You groan and pull a pen out of your pocket to get started on the exercises as Mr.Zhongli talks in the background.

The course outline contained all the topic, and you made sure to teach yourself as much as you could before class to stay ahead.

Immersed in the worksheet, you blinked away your sleep and tried to answer as many questions as you could at the moment. You didn't hear the slight shift next to you, and the change of breathing, or the rate of which time went by.

A familiar scent makes its way into your nostrils.

"Lisa. Why do you smell like mango juul juice." You know the scent from when Signora blew a mango flavoured fog in your face yesterday at lunch when you said you were hungry.

A chuckle erupts and you freeze in place. "That's because I'm not Lisa."

You blink. Once, twice, and then crane your head to the side to meet a pair of teasing cerulean eyes.

Fingers loosening in shock, the pen drops on the desk with a short thud.

You whisk your head towards the front of the classroom, and Mr.Zhongli is nowhere to be seen.

"There's no saving you now." Childe's smirk widens, and he scoots closer to you. "Mr.Zhongli had to get something from the staff room. The staff room is near the cafeteria."

"Which is also near the merch stall." You grumbled, bringing both hands to massage your temples as a headache is beginning it's reign.

"Tsk tsk. Smart girl. I'd like to add that he's forgotten his wallet in his office as well, which is in the south wing."

"Son of a..." You mutter underneath your breath, and opt to scoot further back, but your efforts are futile because your desk is in a corner.

Your next beacon of hope is Lisa, so you scan the room full of chattering students, only to find her pestering her crush, Jean.

Shit...there's nothing getting you out of this one.

"What did it take?" Is your only question, the despair starting to brew. How much did it take for your best friend to betray you?

"A dollar and fifty for vending machine chocolate."

You take a moment to breathe, calming your nerves and burying down the urge to screech. "What will it take?"

"For what?" Childe replies back innocently, and you can't believe how fast he can change masks. You almost give in.

"For you to leave me alone."

"Aww come on girlie," He whines, closing in the distance. "Don't be so cold."

What did your mom tell you that one time? Oh yes. That if you were ever backed against a wall, then just break the damn thing down.

Too bad it's figurative. You're just about ready to sock him in the face if you didn't know he was into that sort of thing.

"I'm serious about you," He says, and it sounds so real, so genuine, nearly makes you sputter. "See? I've even bought school supplies.

He unzips his light backback and spills the contents on the table.

A lone piece of paper flies out, a lighter, and a mechanical pencil with no lead that follows straight after. There's also a pocket knife that you choose to ignore.

You're not the least bit surprised.

"First of all, how the fuck are you passing this class. Second, do you really think I'm into nerds?"

"Well, considering that you are a nerd—"

"You're making things worse."

"My bad, my bad." He rubs the back of his neck sheepishly. "But on a serious note. I'll do anything."

You cross your arms. "I'm not just another one of your conquests Childe. It's not like I have the time. There are better things to do."

"You need to relax." He says so simply, with complete disregard as to what you are trying to say.

"I am relaxed." You reply, picking up your pen to continue your work. If he's going to annoy you, then you might as well get shit done while he's at it.

You're not wasting any more time.

"When was the last time you got a full eight hours of sleep?" His voice is soft, too soft, and it's not at all like the Childe you know.

Your pen stops momentarily, but you will yourself to continue writing. The words look fumbled, but you don't care. The best thing to do is get your work done and ignore the idiot next to you.

"C'mon, Zhongli won't be back for another half an hour at least. Let's go." He kicks the bottom of your chair to urge you.

The pen shakes in your hand, and you narrow your eyes at the paper, digging holes into poor question eight. "I'm trying to work here. Let me work." You'll say anything to get him off your back.

"Fine fine fine..." He raises both hands in mock surrender. "I'll stop bothering you."

Your ears perk up at that, and you turn to him so fast he has to hold in his laugh. "Really?"

"Yeah," Childe nods along, bringing your hopes up. "If you win a bet, that is." And they're back to ocean level.

You roll your eyes. There's always a catch. That doesn't mean you're any less interested.

"What's the bet?" You ask curiously, all your focus now on him. Just as he longed for from the very start.

He flicks a thumb towards the door, leaning closer to whisper next to your ear. "We bet when Zhongli comes back."

"Are you kidding me?" You aren't bothered at all at the close proximity, mainly because you're too tired and only care about the freedom that will come with your win.

Childe, however, is a completely different story. His heart is beating a thousand times a second, but his face doesn't show it. Not one bit.

Kaeya leans in from the seat behind you two, interested in what's going on. "Ooooh secrets."

"Shut up Kaeya." Childe and you monotonously drone in sync, still having your little staring contest.

The captain of the skating team smiles, about to ask—

"No. We don't have an extra pencil. Even if we did we wouldn't give it to you." Childe finally breaks his gaze to scare off Kaeya.

Kaeya raises a smug brow, and leans back in his chair like the jerkwad he is. "Then don't let me keep you two love birds."

That's all it takes for him to earn Childe's unwavering respect and loyalty for as long as he lives.

After the two are done creating an elaborate handshake as a mark of their newfound friendship, you decide to just forget about the handout. It's not like you're getting anything done anyways.

"Anyways, back to the bet." Childe says, resting his cheek on his fist as he stares at you dreamily. You try not to break under his gaze.

"If I win, you have to go on a date with me."

"No way in hell—"

"Then I'll bother you for the rest of highschool."

Highschool is eternity. You don't want to live through an eternity of this.

"Fine." You answer, and for the first time he sees genuine fear in your face, it makes him waver slightly. Not enough for him to pity you.

"If I win..." You trail, thinking loud and clear as you ignore the excited chatter of your classmates. "I want you to pay attention to class."

"What?" He exclaims incredulously, blinking in disbelief. "I thought you'd get me to stop talking to you altogether."

"If you're paying attention in class, you don't bother me as much and your grades go up." You grin smartly, and oh archons it livens his entire day up, and it's only nine in the morning.

"You care about my grades?" Childe bites back a smile.

"Not at all." You lie, and quickly look away. Woah the floor tile looking trippy.

He decides it's better to get on with the bet without causing you any more distress. After all, you've given him such cute facial expressions today. He's feeling quite generous.

Pulling out his cracked-as-shit latest model phone, he unlocks it and tinkers with it a bit before turning the screen towards you.

"We'll be using this to time both of our predictions at the same time. Whoever has the closer time to when he finally swings by is the winner." The rules are simply put, no room for error.

You tilt your head in confusion. "Why am I seeing a slime review?"

"SHIT!" Childe fumbles with his phone, aggressively tapping on the screen. He lowers his head and voice as if he's been through fifty consecutive hits in the face. "It's uh, Teucer's account."

"Yeah...okay." Is all you can say.

"Ok what do you bet?" He changes the topic to unfuck the situation.

Putting a finger in your chin, you think for a minute, calculating the average of all the times Mr.Zhongli has left the classroom for a considerable amount of time.

"Fifteen minutes." You're sure of it. It's like clockwork every day.

"Hmm..." Childe crosses his arms, seemingly in deep thought. "Five minutes." He places his bet, and both timers start simultaneously.

Five minutes?! Is he serious?

You laugh inwardly. This challenge is in the bag.

The sense of victory you feel dulls when your ears pick up the echo of footsteps nearing the classroom.. Both your heads snap up to the doors.

There's something scary about Childe once his competitive side comes out. "Looks like I've won." He turns to you, eyes darkening evilly.

"What? There's no way in hell a ginger is right." Your palms are clammed up, eyebrows furrowed in panic. You calculated every single variable, how could this be?

You race to the front, Childe right on your tail as the entire class clamps up. The footsteps get louder, causing even whispers to become total silence.

Then it hits you. The shitty music about getting bitches and bars playing on the other side.

The door is swung open by Childe, and you're face to face with an idiot sophomore with a speaker in his pocket.

Childe’s grin is long gone, and you sigh in relief.

The false alarm encourages the class to return back to their idle chatter.

"Scaramouche?" Childe spits, narrowing his eyes at the unamused boy. "I thought it was Signora's shift today."

By "shift" he means being a complete dickwad and scamming fake weed to students in return for their souls. It only really works on the freshmen.

The only reason the club still runs is because Signora threatened the principal with some sus pictures she snapped of him and his assistant.

"Apparently she had an emergency." Scaramouche explains, lowering the volume on his outdated beats pill. "Something about a hair appointment because she got ran into by a, and I quote "lecherous imbecile.""

You steer clear of the conversation, finding the whiteboard far more fascinating and worth your while.

A loud cough is heard from behind the kid, and you're met with a crestfallen look on your beloved teacher's face.

You go through a whiplash of emotions, becoming completely numb towards your loss.

"They were out of slow cooked bamboo shoot soup." He sighs, handing a stack of papers to Childe, who is wearing the fattest smirk on his face at his victory. "Please hand these out to your classmates Childe, and we will begin shortly."

You check down at the timer despite knowing who’s won. Five minutes and twenty five seconds. Somehow, you don't feel as dejected as you thought you'd feel.

Maybe the date will be fun. Maybe Childe isn't so bad. Maybe...you do have time to indulge in these sort of things. If he’s so hell bent on getting your attention, perhaps it’s possible that you can make some room in your heart for him.

However, all those thoughts fly out the window when Childe hands you the new worksheet.

“I hope you're ready for our date tomorrow. We'll be sparring till sundown, and after you’ll be feeding me with chopsticks." He winks, and it makes your heart flip even though all you want right now is to go to the bathroom and barf your guts out.

Feelings are complicated.

You smile back at him nauseously, tight lipped and all, then you pull out your phone, go on maps, and search for the closest cliffs to jump off of.

After he's done, Childe slouches back in his original seat with a different kind of enthusiasm, and opens up his messages. He texts Zhongli a "thank you <3".

[erosofthepen]

Hi hun! I'm doing just fine, sorry I worried you for a second there. I was just out taking a walk with my Mom and it got me thinking about an idea for some headcanons, if you'd be fine with writing them. Which Characters from Lotr and the Hobbit wouldn't mind a s/o who's constantly messy? I know that I LOVE going outside and getting covered in mud and paint and getting wet in the rain and everything. And maybe their s/o is a gardener or works on a farm, some sort of outdoorsy or travel job, so they’re always messy like that? Who do you think would be fine with that, and how would they deal with it? Thanks so much, sorry if that seems like a weird request! Hope you’re doing well hun!

Hi! This wasn’t a weird request at all! Hope you’re doing well also, and thank you for the ask!

Lord of the Rings

Aragorn:

Definitely would not mind at all. He is a Ranger, after all (a ranger who hasn’t properly washed in hair in decades). Pretty chill with it all, like “oh, you don’t mind getting messy either? cool.” He enjoys having someone go out in the pouring rain to hunt/forage with him, because (being raised by elves and all) no one else really would do that before. Also could totally see him having a foot race in a mud pitch with his s/o, because that would be hilarious.

Legolas:

Probably will find it interesting. Like. Legolas doesn’t get dirty. He smells like roses for Mahal’s sake! But when his s/o comes home, paint all over their face and clothes, mud staining their shoes, and grass stains on their pants/skirts/legs? He finds it absolutely adorable. “You’re truly one with nature, Meleth nîn”. Might get a bit annoyed after pulling out 5 leaves, 3 twigs, 2 burrs, and... he’s not sure what that last thing was but it might have been an animal... out of your hair. Probably will feel the need to give you a good wash then.

Samwise:

This hobbit spends so much time gardening he would be happy to find a kindred soul. Gardening outside with him would be so much fun, and you’ll both come in afterwards with dirt under your fingernails and on your faces. He’ll think you look gorgeous, and will probably put some flowers in your hair because “it just looks nice”. Very cute and wholesome.

The Hobbit

Fili: 

The Golden Prince might draw the line at some things. “honestly, you’re worse than my brother-- wait... how did you get grass stains on the inside of your clothes?!?” But overall, Fili wouldn’t mind too much. I think he’d really like it when you’re all hot and sweaty (maybe after sparring with him) and finds it really attractive actually. however, he will most definitely corner you with a bottle of shampoo/conditioner if your hair gets too unruly. “AMRALIME I CANT EVEN TELL THE BRAIDS APART FROM KNOTS, IM WASHING YOUR HAIR WHETHER YOU LIKE IT OR NOT”

Bofur:

Kisses and Coal Dust. Sorry, that sounded so much better in my head than it did once I wrote it down. ANyways, Bofur is a miner and wouldn’t even bat an eye. It’s as normal as night and day to him, and honestly, he’s relieved. If his s/o was super clean and tidy, he’d be worried about how he looked, but with you, he doesn’t feel like he has to be devoid of his usual mess.

Tauriel:

She finds it hot. Like, really hot. Damn. She’s used to Thranduil and his 3 hour hair and skin routine, and now here comes this person with messy hair,  messy clothes, and the most amazing smile she’s ever seen. I just have this image of her jumping into giant Mirkwood leaf piles with her s/o, and then going to climb trees and look at the stars. Tauriel with a messy s/o would be so perfect.

Kili:

Will be the one getting you covered in mud. Dragging you out into the rain behind him and jumping into puddles and mud, before starting a mud fight. Also, any type of craft/activity with this dwarf will end up with the two of you getting covered in either dirt, flour, leaves, an unidentified sticky substance, or all four. However, with Kili, he’ll always clean you and him up afterward, so you can cuddle together while smelling nice.

[teyvattherapist]

Another one, set directly after the one where Sandrone finds Childe~ :)

-

Sandrone-- by a feat of miracle-- snuck Ajax into his Academy room and squirreled the boy away into the cramped bathroom while he snuck into the infirmary again to retrieve a first aid kit. When he returned, Ajax had stripped off his coat and scarf, leaving him in a shirt that was more holes than fabric and his bloodstained shorts. Wordlessly, Sandrone handed him an energy bar he'd swiped from the cafeteria and wetted a towel, rubbing away the dirt and grime that layered Ajax like a second skin. As the dirt washed away, the wounds were brought into stark relief. Hundreds of them, layered over each other and crisscrossing Ajax's skin like gaping mouths. Some were fully healed, nothing but thin, silvery lines. Others were an angry red and purple, bruised and swollen around the edges. All had clean cuts, suggesting an expert hand behind the blade. "Who did this?" Sandrone asked. He wasn't really expecting an honest answer, anyway. But Ajax was always one to surprise him. "The Abyss. I fell into a hole in the ground, and I was taken away to somewhere." "Was it scary?" Sandrone didn't look up from his ministrations, choosing to focus on the mangled mess that was Ajax's knees (how hard did he fall?) "It was," Ajax sighed dreamily. "But the things I saw down there... it spoke to me. The Abyss spoke to me, Sulien. It told me things that scared the everloving hell out of me, but I'm grateful to them." "Why?" Sandrone finally looked up. There were a hundred questions packed into that one word. Why are you still alright? Why are you thanking the Abyss? Why do you sound so different?

And from the bloodied fragments of Ajax's face, the eye of the Abyss stared back at him, milky and purple. Ajax smiled, a pristine tear in the mangled visage of a beast rebuilt from the ground up. "So I can protect you."

IM SCREAMING, ALMOND, THIS IS

KJFDSKJDFS??

SULIEN BEING A SNEAKY LIL SHIT IS SO TRUE, THAT'S JUST HOW HE WAS-

BUT THE SO I CAN PROTECT YOU?? SO I CAN PROTECT YOU!! OH MY GOSDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDD. THE ?? JFDDF YOU DON'T EVEN KNOW!! I KNOW YOU DON'T KNOW THE LOFE, BUT THAT FITS SO WELL IM SCREAMING

as promised. Part two of Desiderium under the cut.

Another nightmare, another sleepless night. This nightmare was real though, it wasn’t like his usual ones, the ones where he was bound by chains and forced to- No, he didn’t want to think about those. His mind wandered to the latest one. He had given thought to Zhongli’s words, he was longing for somebody. But who? The God had never brought it up again, so he didn’t know. It had to be Lumine right? She was pretty, sure. Strong, good with a sword, her eyes were a nice shade of gold. But something still felt off.

He needed to take a walk.. He stopped when he reached the living room, blinking at.. Lumine? Asleep on his couch? The blonde stirred and pushed herself up some, blanket falling around her shoulders. “Sandrone? Ah- your mask- I- Sorry.” She averted her eyes and Sulien realised he wasn’t wearing his mask. This was his house! Of course he wasn’t wearing his mask. He cleared his throat.

“I thought I heard voices.” Ajax commented from the hallway, hair messier than ever from sleep. “I hope it's alright I invited Lumine to stay with us while she’s in Liyue Harbour. It's closer than the inn.” Ajax explained, seeing the panicked body language only he could understand on his fellow harbinger made him feel bad that he forgot to bring it up. Paimon snored away on the armchair, clearly unbothered by it all.

Without his mask, without his gloves, his scars and face on display. He felt uncomfortable. Incredibly uncomfortable. “I’m going for a walk.” Sulien pivoted and made a beeline for the entrance. Lumine rubbed her sleep riddled eyes, a small yawn escaping her as she looked up at Ajax who was busy staring at the archway into the entrance.

The door slammed shut.

“I’ve only known him for a month or so but,” she yawned, “I take it this is abnormal?” She sat up properly, tightening the blanket around her though. Liyue evenings could get quite cold. Ajax nodded his head in response to her question. Abnormal indeed. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen such an influx of emotion. Perhaps when they were kids? That was probably it.

Sulien breathed in the fresh air, late at night, he didn’t need his mask, he didn’t need to be his rank. He could just be another nameless person in the streets, he preferred it this way. He shoved his hands into the pockets of his pants as he walked down the streets. Very few people were out and about so late at night, but he enjoyed watching them. A ghost of a smile on his lips as he watched lovers enjoying a late night getaway or a tired sailor returning home late.

But despite his usual late night activity that often cleared his mind, his mind began to fog once more. Trailing back to his dream, it wasn’t even that bad, especially compared to the usual ones. But being abandoned in a dream, he supposed, tied into the feelings he had been having recently. The stabbing pain in his poor heart, the squeezing of his lungs, stripping his body of blood and air.

There was no way it was about Lumine though. He didn’t feel anything when he looked at her except the pain, there was nothing underneath. He sighed, finding himself at the docks. He looked out on the dark water, lilac eyes searching the depths for answers. He furrowed his brows, all he could think of when he looked at the water, all he was reminded of.. Just one thing.

Ajax.

Sulien shook his head, no, he shouldn’t think of Ajax of all people. He couldn’t, that wasn’t allowed as far as he was aware. Well no relationship was allowed in general, he was their puppet after all, he couldn’t have any strings except to Her. But still.. This seemed somehow worse. His heart lurched at the thought and he hissed in pain, bringing his hand up to his chest, scarred fingers digging into the black fabric of his shirt.

All the books he had read, all the research he did. None of it had any answers for this. And he wondered why he felt wrong. Sulien sighed, sitting on the edge of the docks, legs dangling above the water. Ajax seemed happy with Lumine either way, right? They were much cuter together. Sulien never really belonged anyways, an outsider looking in on everybody else. He sighed, leaning back on his arms.

There were footsteps on the dock behind him and he tensed his body, ice already forming in his fingers. Then the familiar scent of cologne hit him and he watched as Ajax sat down on the docks beside him, wrapped up in Sulien’s coat of all things. Sulien’s heart hurt and he looked out at the water, it was becoming so frequent that it was more of a dull ache. Ajax deserved better than him, better than some man who couldn’t give him what he wanted.

“Talk to me.” Ajax whispered, dull eyes trained on the ocean. “You’re hurting and I want to be there this time.. I wasn’t.. I wasn’t last time.” The man hesitated, pulling one knee up and rested his arm against it. Sulien wished nothing more than for the waves to take him away, drown him until there was nothing left. He could not tell the man beside him how he felt, it was wrong. It wasn’t fair.

“I’m just sick, I’ll be fine.” Sulien manipulated his voice so he sounded more hoarse, as if to hammer in the point that it was nothing more than some freak illness. “We have field work tomorrow, you should go back home and sleep. I’ll walk you back.” Sulien stood and Ajax slowly followed him. But before Sulien could head off the docks, Ajax grabbed his elbow, stopping him.

“Please talk to me when you feel ready.” Sulien merely smiled, one of the ones that Ajax knew was fake and full of lies. But the ginger accepted it in the moment.

-

Sulien sighed as he summoned his claymore, flipping the massive weapon in one hand. The conversation from the day before played in his head, over and over. But he had work to do now. Why did Ajax care? What did he mean when he said he wasn’t there last time? Sulien swung his weapon, the frostbitten blade slicing clean through the arm of the Ruin Guard. He didn’t expect to be smacked by the automaton’s other arm, he barely protected himself with a wall of ice.

“Sandrone, pay attention!” Ajax called, utterly confused on why his colleague was so lost in thought. Ajax ripped apart his bow, the hydro blades forming as he slashed at the ruin guard. It was a simple side mission, really. Destroy the ruin guard near the skirmisher camp. Easy peasy between the two of them. Hell even alone, just one of them probably could have done it. But it was rare they both were allowed into the field together.

Sulien froze the ruin guard and Ajax’s daggers turned back into his bow, he nocked an arrow and drew his string back. Right through the core, bullseye. “Alright that’s that!” Ajax’s bow dematerialised as the automaton fell. There was a whirring nearby and Sulien narrowed his eyes, Ajax didn’t seem to hear it. But he did.

A wall of ice protected Ajax from the incoming missiles of another automaton. Sulien barely dodged the drill of a ruin hunter. Why were there so many all of a sudden? Ajax easily flipped out of the way of the hit of the ruin guard that had attacked him, sliding back to where he had been when fighting the first one. His bow appeared in his hand and he got into position again. “Tartaglia! How many did the Skirmishers report?” Sulien questioned as blocked an attack with his claymore.

His arms shook as the hunter tried to keep cutting downwards with its long sword-like attachment. He had to yield, ducking underneath it. Ajax bent down on his perch, pointing his bow upwards he released multiple hydro arrows into the air. “They only reported one ruin guard! There was no mention of multiples, let alone a hunter.” Ajax called back as another hydro arrow appeared between his fingers.

Now underneath it the ruin hunter decided this was the time to use lasers. Sulien barely constructed the dome around himself in time, manipulating the frost in the air and creating a solid ice dome. A fourth automaton had Ajax seething, how in the hell did their subordinates miss this? When the one he had been fighting slammed its hand onto Ajax’s perch he used its arm as a bridge, bow turning into a polearm.

The ice around Sulien melted but before he could react a second ruin hunter was slamming into him, sending him flying backwards. “Sulien! Careful!” Ajax called, stabbing his polearm into the core of the ruin guard. Sulien got back up, dodging out of the way of one of the hunters. He ran for his claymore, weaving between various attacks as quickly as he could while Ajax struggled with the ruin guard.

Sulien picked his claymore back up and adjusted his grip on the weapon, he slashed at the legs of the ruin guard Ajax was battling, sending the automaton to the ground, the whirring of its body stopping. Two ruin hunters left- Sulien turned around and was faced with three. What in the world- “Something is summoning them here, Tartaglia. This is abnormal.” Sulien adjusted his grip on his blade, peering through the new crack in his mask. He’d have to fix it again.

A bright light beside him blinded him and Sulien hissed as he turned away from Ajax. He didn’t really have time to focus on the transformation as he shielded the both of them from the incoming missiles. A wall of ice reinforced with vines splintered and exploded, the shards turning into snowflakes as they fell from it. At least the wall had lasted against the missiles.

While Sulien thoroughly distracted one of the ruin hunters, Ajax focused on the other two, he brought his hand down, summoning multiple thunderbolts onto one of the ruin hunters, causing it to collapse to the ground, stunned from the electricity. His bow turned into a water spear as he dashed forward, the water from his weapon spraying the automaton, thoroughly frying it. Sulien’s claymore became encased in ice once more, and the ruin hunter he had to deal with was down for the count.

Ajax turned his attention to the last ruin hunter, turning in time to watch the missiles coming at him. He used his ability to blink, reappearing closer toSulien who was looking worse for wear quite frankly. Ajax lunged forward once more, a wheel of electrified water surrounding the ruin hunter, tightening on it. Sulien stepped forward, releasing a blast of ice that froze the machine, causing it to fall from its awkward frozen position, shattering upon contact on the ground. Ajax was beaming, still in his Abyss form but he let himself actually touch the ground rather than float and he turned towards Sulien.

Sulien's claymore dug into the stone and he used it to keep himself up. Ajax closed the distance between them, his weapon floating beside him. Sulien collapsed onto his knees, the large weapon giving out underneath his weight and clattering to the stone floor of the ruin. Funny.. This didn't hurt as much as the heart problems had been hurting.. Life was funny that way. "Hey, hey what happened?" Ajax shifted back, he was exhausted from the fight and using foul legacy. His eyes trailed down to where Sulien's hand was pressed against his side. Ajax gripped the man's hand, pulling it back. The dark green of his palm stained even darker.

"The ruin hunter hit me." Sulien's head hung low, the mask he wore finally giving out, falling to the stone floor, the crack that had started to form fully breaking through the fragile mask. Ajax wished that Sulien didn't look so void, maybe it could help him assess the extent of the wound. Ajax helped Sulien out of the coat he wore, discarding the heavy material onto the ground. The touch was electrifying to Sulien, whose heart only clenched more. So many things unsaid.. But even now, he figured, he didn't deserve the right to say them.

Ajax pulled the man's shirt up, inspecting the wound. It was bad. Really bad. Sulien didn't even flinch when the man used his hydro vision to try and get rid of some of the blood to see better. "I never wanted this." Sulien mumbled as he stared up at the sky. Yes that much was true, Sulien never wanted to be on the battlefield. He was not a warrior. At one time he wanted to be a scholar, he wanted to teach. All of that ripped away with his memories. This was the end Ajax wanted, surrounded by bodies on the battlefield. Ajax ripped the banner he wore, pressing the fabric against the wound.

"Sulien, keep your eyes open, okay? I'll get you help." Would he be strong enough to carry Sulien and his weapon all the way back to Liyue Harbour? Sulien laughed, it was bitter though and it made Ajax's heart hurt. They both had so many things left unsaid. Ajax grunted as he lifted Sulien, the man hadn't listened. Though, when did he ever listen, Ajax mused. The harbinger had to use foul legacy again, there was no way he'd be able to get from the ruins all the way back to the harbour. The warm blood on his hands made the decision for him.

The stares he got as he moved through Liyue Harbour meant nothing to him, he kept Sulien's coat over the man in question, shielding his face and wound from the general public. The claymore in his free hand as he quickly moved through the streets. There were so many things Ajax hadn't said, so many things he felt, so many things he wanted to do. He gripped the man in his arm tighter.

Ajax kicked the door open, much to the surprise of Zhongli and his guests who watched as the large abyssal creature ducked to get through the doorway. Ajax dropped the claymore in the entrance way, letting the weapon clatter to the ground. He then shifted back, all but falling to his knees, Sulien’s still body rolling from his arms. Ajax slammed his hand into the ground as he tried to push himself back up.

“Help, help him please.” But he found himself unable to get up, breathing too unsteady, his own wounds catching up with him as the adrenalin was all but gone. Zhongli dropped his teacup, moving quickly he picked up Sulien, bringing him further into the house. At least Ajax could rest now, leaning his head against the hallway wall.

“Lumine, go get Baizhu please. Paimon, could you bring me the medical kit from the kitchen?” Zhongli lowered Sulien down onto the couch, pulling the fabric away from the wound the God grimaced. Lumine nodded, stepping over Ajax to get out the door as fast as she could. Paimon also listened, despite her small frame she managed to drag the medical kit into the living room. Zhongli peeled his gloves off and rolled up his sleeves as he tried to stop the flow of blood now staining his furniture.

-

“He should recover if he doesn’t get an infection. But do you think it is wise to treat Fatui? One less Harbinger may be-”

“I appreciate your concern, but Sandrone is a good friend no matter his occupation. He can’t help his work. Thank you for coming. Have a good night Baizhu.” Zhongli shut the door soon after and then returned to the living room. Sulien was asleep on the couch, a thin blanket covering his lower half while his torso was wrapped in multiple bandages. Ajax, meanwhile, was sitting on the ground, holding Sulien’s hand, head resting against the couch.

“They look kinda cute.” Paimon’s whisper was absolutely not a whisper, but at least she tried as she floated between Zhongli and Lumine, a smile on her face despite the fact it was two harbingers in front of her. She couldn’t know, there was no way for her to know what the two men in front of her have been through. Both alone and together. The scars could give her a hint. But that was it, and she was too naive to get it. And so to her, they were just bloodsoaked warriors who fought in the name of something she did not understand.

To Zhongli though, he’d seen this story play out thousands of times throughout history, and all he could muster was a frown, especially as his eyes traced the scars on Sulien's bare chest. As he retraced their previous conversations, he had first thought maybe it was Lumine. But as he watched the way Ajax nearly killed himself for the man. Zhongli sighed softly. What a tragic position to be in indeed.

“I’ll bring him home. Thank you for helping.” Ajax stood slowly, wincing at the pain he felt. He was in a bad state himself. Lumine held out the tattered coat, the black and navy fabric stained in hidden crimson. Ajax took it, wrapping it around Sulien before hoisting him up with a grunt. Sulien stirred in his arms but remained asleep. “I’ll pick up his claymore tomorrow.” Ajax couldn’t carry the weapon right now.

“Be safe.”

-

Sulien blinked at the ceiling of his bedroom. It was light outside, but the room was dark, the curtains drawn shut. His side hurt like hell, the events of what happened melding into his fragmented memory though, and he couldn’t quite recall at the moment. He felt weight shift in the bed beside him and he tensed immediately. There were very few he’d ever let close enough to him who-

“I know you’re sleeping but..” Ajax started with a soft sigh and Sulien promptly squeezed his eyes shut and evened out his breathing as if he were sleeping. “I think I know why you’ve been sick lately.. It’s the same reason why I’m sick.” Sulien wanted to furrow his brow as he quickly grew confused but opted to continue pretending he was asleep.

“I thought spending time with Lumine would take my mind off of you but it didn’t.” So he had been doing it on purpose. “Lumine is nice and all. But she’s not you.” Sulien could feel Ajax’s warm hand against his cold one, his long slender fingers playing with the scarred skin of Sulien’s hand. “I just don’t want to ruin the friendship we have if you don’t feel the same. So I tell you when you’re asleep like a coward.” Ajax sighed to himself. “This is so pathetic of me.” He mumbled.

“And then it’s my fault you’re hurt, they were my subordinates and my mission.” Ajax’s voice cracked and he didn’t even try to hide it. Though, Sulien supposed when you’re talking to somebody who is asleep, there’s nothing to hide. “All I do is fail you, what kind of friend am I? If I can’t even be a good friend, how am I supposed to be a good enough lover to tell you how I feel?” Ajax intertwined their fingers, but his touch was so hesitant. His hand was so warm, too.

“You say it all the time.. We’re just pawns in all of this.. This is one choice I have control over in this mess and yet I can’t even make it. You deserve so much more.” Ajax pulled his hand away and Sulien missed the comforting warmth. “You deserve somebody who can help heal those wounds, not.. A bloodthirsty monster like me. Whew, okay.. That helped. Good job Ajax.” Ajax mumbled to himself, a soft sigh of relief now that the weight was off of his chest.

“I think I’m in love with you.”

Ajax sat up, dull eyes wide as he looked down at Sulien whose eyes were still closed. “I don’t really know how love is supposed to feel. But I think I feel it.” The man sighed, he didn’t know very much it would seem. “Could I have your hand back? I like how warm you are.” Sulien finally opened his eyes to Ajax staring at him, a range of emotions on the ginger’s face. Huh.. Had he always had that many freckles on his face? Cute.

“How much did you hear?!”

“All of it.” Ajax inhaled sharply, panic setting in. Sulien reached out, grabbing Ajax’s hand, warm. “You deserve somebody who understands the things they are feeling. And I’m not that. But I can try to learn..” Sulien cleared his throat, it hurt to speak but he couldn’t really remember the last time he had. He must have been hit pretty hard. “Te-” he hesitated, looking away from Ajax’s shocked expression and out the window. “Teach me.”

Ajax settled back down on the bed, intertwining their fingers once more. “Okay.. I’ll teach you.”

[aliferous-ly]

I've never really asked for a drabble before... If it's okay with you, could you do 7 "I almost lost you" and 32 "I think I'm in love with you and I'm terrified" with Logan and Deceit? I just kinda thought that it had the potential to make some angst with a happy ending. Oh and I only found you recently, but I love the writing that I've seen so far. I always love finding amazing writers. (I'm sorry, I'm a total suck up)

im gonna start this with if you’re on mobile, i am So Sorry

i started this and was like “ha im getting a little carried away” and then went “oh no” 

and thank u dear!! that’s v sweet of u awe 

summary: Declan is a loud and proud aromantic. Then he realizes why he feels weird, and off, and awkward around his best friend, Logan, and his world starts to crumble. 

warnings: f word twice, lying, parent being imprisoned, angst, questioning identity, if there’s anything else lmk!!

It starts, Declan thinks, when Logan smiles. 

The situation starts out innocuous -- they’re sitting in Logan’s room, Declan tossing a tennis ball up and catching it unsuccessfully, making a right disaster of Logan’s room with all the objects he keeps knocking to the floor. Logan, naturally, continues doing his homework. 

And they’re just -- talking. 

Declan likes to think his world should shift on a more momentous occasion, maybe with fireworks, fingers brushing against one another dramatically, Jason Mraz playing in the background. 

But it’s the smallest thing. Declan throws the tennis ball up in the middle of his sentence -- “You can’t tell me you hate white pines, they have the softest needles” -- and he misses it on the way down. 

So he takes a tennis ball to the face and sits up, sputtering, rubbing at his nose, arm reaching out to snatch it before it rolls too far. 

Logan chokes out a laugh, eyes squinty and wrinkled at the edges. His laugh fills the room for a few thrilling moments and Declan thinks it’s the most beautiful sound in the world and he can’t stop staring at Logan’s engaging face, in the upturn of his lips and dimples carved in his cheeks. 

He’s radiant. 

Declan’s heart squeezes, lungs filling with something heavier than air, a foreign feeling washing through his veins. Like rose petals or sunlight. Woodsmoke or freshly fallen snow. 

The gears in his chest shift and settle and he feels… right. More right than he’s ever been. 

Which is, of course, why fear swiftly follows this gorgeous wash of emotions, because this is unusual and anything unusual is often bad. 

Declan forces down the incoming wave of anxiety, schooling his expression into one of smooth disdain. 

Just in time, too, because Logan opens his mouth and says, “It was only a matter of time until you paid for your crimes.”

“I’m too pretty to die,” Declan replies, thanking the heavens that while his brain may be steadily turning into mush (have Logan’s eyes always been that striking? Or his shoulders that broad?) his tongue still works. 

“Implying Death themself has a type, intriguing,” Logan says. He flashes a look over his computer, the after effects of joy still written on his features. “Bold of you to declare what Death likes.” 

Declan tries for a smirk but can feel the way his mouth turns to genuine grin, the traitor. “Aw, Logie, are you saying I’m not everyone’s type?” 

“That would be rather ironic, wouldn’t it?” Logan says wryly. He types away at his computer, dutiously finishing an English assignment that Declan is currently ignoring for bigger and better things. “The aromantic everyone pines over.” 

That strikes an odd chord in Declan’s chest, like he’s a half-tone off; not quite wrong, but not quite right, either. His expression must change, because Logan pauses in his typing. He blinks at Declan. “Something wrong?” 

Of course, that’s when Declan’s brain decides that those words are simply too much, too much, his shoulders tightening, back tensing. It’s like his rib cage is squeezing his vital organs, which seems rather counterintuitive. He hates this unknown, this awkward buzz against his skin, the prickling feeling through his bones. 

The resounding crash of everything happening all at once is overwhelming and Declan can’t seem to decide whether to sit as still as humanly possible or bolt. 

Or, of course, do what he does best. 

Lie. 

“I forgot to do something for my mom,” Declan says, barely registering the words before they fall from his lips. He hasn’t lied to Logan in a very, very long time (he knows it’s because they have been best friends for ages, but his mind twists it into something of a foreshadow, even though it’s not, it’s not) and the resurgence of his bad habits leaves a nasty taste in his mouth, but. Desperate times. Desperate measures. 

“Oh,” Logan says, disappointed, and Declan longs to explain -- what? 

He angrily shoves the emotions deep into his chest. If he can’t explain them, he’s not going to give them the right of control over his actions. 

(He ignores the prevalent fact that he has just lied to his best friend in order to escape his presence, but denial, evidently, is not just a river in Egypt). 

“Sorry,” Declan spits out, meaning so much more than it seems. He stands, grabs his backpack, shoving papers and folders into it haphazardly. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” 

“See you tomorrow,” Logan calls out hollowly. Declan takes that as his leave and he slips out Logan’s bedroom door, backpack in tow, keys clicking in his pocket. 

Something deep inside him aches. But he doesn’t know why. 

Frustrated, Declan gets into his car and slams the door shut, fingers white-knuckled against the steering wheel. He takes a breath. He’s fine, he’s fine. He’s probably just sick, or something. 

Or something. 

Not for the first time, Declan longs for a working aux connection. 

Because flicking through radio stations does not help. 

Lewis Capaldi croons Someone you loved on one, Sam Smith singing Dancing with a Stranger. He woefully flips through two channels on commercial break, groaning when the last one has Adele, which, really?

He remembers Virgil’s favorite station, and turns up the volume to forty, My Chemical Romance’s Mama screaming from his speakers. He pulls into his driveway with Hallelujah by Panic! at the Disco blowing his ears out when he remembers that Logan once spent hours rambling about Brenden Urie and a conspiracy about curses and he slams his palms on his steering wheel, furious. 

Can he not escape Logan for a moment? 

As Declan slams the car door shut, throwing his backpack over his shoulders, and freezes at the sight of the stupid Beware, dog sign that Logan had vandelized to read Beware, snake, he realizes that no, he really can’t. Because Logan is his best friend, his favorite person, and his life is irreversibly intertwined with Logan unless he up and leaves with absolutely nothing, starting from scratch. Which would be worse than death. 

He trudges up the stairs like a funeral dirge and when his door shuts with a click he leans against it, steadily sliding down until his knees almost touch his chin. 

“Fuck,” Declan says out loud, unable to keep the emotion termoil inside like it should be. 

His phone buzzes where it fell from his hands, angry against the carpet. Declan sighs. Rubs a hand down his face. And picks up the phone. 

There’s one text from Logan that reads, “are you okay? I’m not irritated but you left rather…” 

Well. The beginning reads as such. Declan assumes there’s more, but he’s unwilling to open it for the time being. 

Then he has three from Virgil, two of which reference an obscure meme video and the third which reads “r u home i wanna play dark souls on ur ps4”. 

And there’s a text from Patton asking if he wants normal chocolate chips or mint ones, and a followup that proclaims “never mind i got both! :3c”. 

He sends a quick “no” back to Virgil and merely opens the texts from Patton, leaving only Logan’s unopened. I’m not irritated but you left rather… suddenly? 

A strange emotion flutters about Declan’s chest and he groans. He doesn’t feel this way about his other friends, not even Virgil, who he’s known for ages and has gone through four too many devastating arguments to not be close with. Nor does he feel like this with Patton, his brother. Those bonds are, he’s certain, platonic--

Declan lurches forwards with a gasp, the realization bowling him over and leaving him breathless. He curls his fingers into the carpet, focusing on the texture instead of the immediate swirl of panic. 

He -- does he have a crush on Logan? Him, Declan, the aromantic king, who once boasted the world could never produce a human Declan could fall in love with?

And it doesn’t track with him falling for Logan either because Declan would have loved him months earlier, suddenly falling in love with someone he’s loved platonically… it just doesn’t make sense. Declan can’t wrap his mind around it. 

Maybe he’s just reading the emotions wrong. How can he -- what can he do that -- which -- 

What would Logan do? 

An experiment, Declan’s mind supplies helpfully, so, well. Declan pressed his back against the wood of his door and thinks. 

Hypothesis: he’s in love with Logan. 

In love? A very rational part of his brain yells. You were talking about a crush before!

So Declan thinks, and revises. Hypothesis: he’s feeling romantic attraction to Logan. 

Then he takes a few minutes trying to remember the following step in the scientific method and ends up looking it up on his phone, and it’s really long so he’s just going to cut some corners. 

Procedure: 

Well, Declan can’t think of any way to do this physically without making an entire fool of himself, so he changes the experiment into a thought experiment. 

Procedure: Consider emotions of other relationships and compare to feelings for Logan. 

Okay. Declan settles. He considers. He tries to imagine holding hands with Virgil and giving him flowers, but he can’t really picture giving Logan flowers either, so if it’s weird for both -- but he wants to hold Logan’s hand, not Virgil’s, and sometimes Patton’s, and Patton is his brother, he knows for sure his emotions are strictly platonic. So if Patton is the control group, the certainty of platonic emotions, Virgil is the one with normal emotions, and Logan has some weird emotions, so if Virgil and Logan’s are merely two different shades of friendship then Declan will know. 

Declan closes his eyes and imagines kissing Logan, because that’s what romantic partners do, right? He imagines stepping closer to him until there’s inches of space between them.. Declan thinks about leaning in, brushing lips before pressing in, heat curling in his chest and oh god, oh god Declan’s face is on fire. 

His eyes shoot open and he can only imagine how panicked he must look right now. He presses his hand against his chest, taking deep breaths. Then, reluctantly, he thinks about kissing Virgil -- nope, nope, eugh he physically shakes his head, gut rolling uncomfortably. 

So that is a big contender for Declan has romantic feelings for Logan. 

He sighs and clunks his head against the door. This sucks. Declan hates feelings. 

The door downstairs sounds, opening and closing, followed by a resounding, “HEY, CICI, LOVE YOU!” 

Dee sighs, a smile flickering across his face. He pushes to his feet and exits his room, wandering downstairs, aloof. 

“Hey Pat,” he says, leaning against a wall. 

“Ci, I’m making lots of cookies!” Patton declares, beaming at him, and Declan’s heart drops. 

His expression must, too, because Patton’s features are suddenly painted in concern. “What’s wrong?” 

“I should be asking you that,” Declan says, and he feels bad, unexpectedly, for not replying to Patton’s text earlier. “Lots of cookies? With mint and chocolate chips? Enough to feed an army?” 

Patton’s arms wilt and Declan reads the tremor in his shoulders, the glisten of his eyes. Patton tries for a smile and misses by a mile. 

Declan crosses to where Patton stands in five steps, wrapping his arms around his smaller brother, pressing his cheek against Patton’s head. “What’s wrong?” 

Patton takes a shuddering breath, returning the hug. “Nothing, really. I’m glad you’re home.” 

“Ah,” Declan says. He tightens his grip on Patton. “Do you want help?” 

“No.” Patton presses his face into Declan’s chest. He’s shaking, ever so slightly. “Can you talk with me at the counter, though?” 

“Of course,” Declan agrees, mentally side-tabling his emotional turmoil. 

“Okay,” Patton says. He’s quiet for a few more moments, then says, “And Steven Universe later?” 

“Anything,” Declan says. He makes a face. The word had slipped out unbidden, but Patton doesn’t tease him for it. 

“Alright.” Patton pulls away, takes a breath. “I’m about to make the best damn cookies the world has ever seen.” 

“Damn straight,” Declan says, grinning. Patton pauses for just one moment more before moving to the kitchen, dropping various ingredients onto the counter and moving smoothly to gather more. 

Declan wonders at his influence on Patton’s vulgar mouth, then shrugs. Patton’s a teenager. He can do what he wants. 

“Weren’t you hanging out with Logan?” Patton asks conversationally. He’s pulling down bowls and sugar, obviously expecting easy small talk. And normally Logan is easy for Declan to talk about. He talks about him all the time.  

So when Declan winces, Patton turns and addresses him with full attention, brows furrowed. “What? What happened?” 

“I…” Declan considers for a moment to just lie about it but dismisses the thought. This is Patton. “I think I have a romantic attraction for him.” 

Saying it out loud only cements the certainty in Declan’s chest. No, he hasn’t quite completed the experiment, but he just… knows. 

The knowledge is both relieves and spikes his anxiety about the whole situation. 

“Oh,” Patton says, eyes wide. “Do you want to talk about it?” 

“Not really,” Declan says honestly. 

“Alright,” Patton says. He turns back around and a wave of affection flows through Declan. “How did Roman do on his audition?” 

Declan hums, eternally grateful for Patton’s ability to turn the conversation away. They talk about Roman’s skill as an actor for a few minutes, jumping to Patton’s involvement in VEX robotics (focusing on the robotics instead of the people) and they kill about forty minutes with Patton talking about his baby bot, Pat Jr. 

When the clock strikes seven, Declan throws together two grilled cheese sandwiches and they eat in front of Steven Universe and the gems, Declan stretched out along the couch and Patton creating a throne of blankets for himself. 

“I know you don’t want to talk about it,” Patton murmurs, eyes never straying from the bursts of pastel on the screen, “but if you do have a romantic attraction to Logan it’s okay. You weren’t wrong in saying you’re aromantic. Because that fits you, you like it. There’s just more strings attached than you originally thought.” 

Declan blinks, the smallest smile growing on his face. “Thanks, Pat.” 

Patton hugs a pillow, eyes bright. “Love you, Ci.” 

Declan pushes his foot against Patton’s blanket pile in response. 

--

“Do you think we have to move?” Patton says, three hours into their movie night. 

Declan breathes, slowly inhaling as if it gives him an excuse to not reply. “I didn’t. I don’t want to. But probably.” 

“That’s why you haven’t told anyone,” Patton says. He shifts, turning to look at Declan. Declan maintains eye contact with the screen, despite having seen this movie countless times. “And why you told me to keep it under wraps.” 

“Yes,” Declan says, because really, he lies to the world, but he doesn’t lie to Patton. 

He tries not to lie to Patton. 

“But something changed yesterday.” Patton’s not asking questions. Somehow, he just knows, despite being left out of the loop. “And you were going to tell Logan today.” 

“Yes,” Declan says. Static thrums through his veins. Aladdin ignores a buzzing genie on screen, swatting him away to benefit his own desires. 

“What happened?” 

“Mom’s not getting out,” Declan says simply, because that’s it, really. Their mother is not getting out of jail. And with no father, their final hope is their uncle, three states over. Their father’s brother. 

Two months away from eighteen, and Declan is forced to concede. 

“When?” Patton asks. He’s trembling, but he’s not crying. Declan knows that will come later. 

“Because of the legal mixups and leaning on Sasha, two weeks, probably,” Declan says. Sasha is, of course, their next door neighbor, the crazy cat lady of the street who “watches” the boys “all the time”. 

“Two weeks,” Patton whispers. There’s a sheen in his eyes. Declan tries not to look but his gaze is like a magnet and Patton stares, stares, stares. “That’s not enough time. That’s not…”

Declan closes his eyes. 

He really thought he would win. 

He thought he could win. 

They only had to last two more months. His deadbeat mom had to last two months and they couldn’t even keep the legal proceedings--

He takes a breath. “Uncle Thomas is nice, at least.” 

“I don’t want uncle Thomas,” Patton snaps. 

“Well we don’t have a choice, Pat,” Declan bites out, stomach rolling at the words, eyes snapping open. 

Patton recoils, hurt flickering behind his eyes, but Declan knows it’s not enough to overpower the fire roaring in Patton’s lungs. “We did, we could have put more savings into mom’s defense, we could have found a place to live before it was our last resort but now we have to tell all our friends that we’re moving hundreds of miles away in two weeks!” 

“Mom doesn’t deserve to get out,” Declan spits. 

“I don’t CARE.” Patton’s fingers are clenched in fists. He stands. “I don’t care if mom deserves it or not. We deserve to stay.” 

“The world doesn’t work like that,” Declan says. 

Patton opens his mouth and snaps it shut, obviously restraining himself. A thousand emotions swim behind his eyes. Declan hates every single moment but he doesn’t say a word. 

He leaves. 

He leaves Declan sitting alone on the couch, watching Patton’s favorite movie. A door slams shut and Declan exhales heavily. They don’t get into fights, it’s just not -- Patton’s normally too upbeat to bother, Patton hates being angry, Declan normally doesn’t -- there’s nothing to get angry about, not in the grand scheme of things. They share easily, they have chaotic conversations, they… 

They’re fighting. 

Declan buries his head in his hands. He was too hopeful, too caught up on the possibility of the future to notice the sinkhole of reality. 

He really thought -- things would work out, Patton has his lucky charm of a personality and Declan works, he works hard, so things should -- Declan’s a senior in high school, halfway through the first semester, he should be worried about grades and school dances and friends and crushes and --

Logan. 

Declan curls, releasing something like a sob or maybe a dry heave. Whether or not he’s in love with Logan (most signs point to yes but there’s no way Declan’s addressing that) he still loves Logan, he loves being with him and talking to him and ordering his ice cream before Logan gets there to see the surprised and fond expression cross his face. 

Two weeks? 

To say goodbye to his best friend? 

Before moving, before picking up his entire life and his family (just -- Patton. Just Patton) and going somewhere Else?

Declan doesn’t feel like an adult. 

He doesn’t want to be an adult, either. 

Even if the world is asking him to be one. 

--

“You’re acting strange,” Logan observes. 

Declan shrugs. “I’m always strange.” He takes advantage of shoving fries in his face to avoid expounding. 

Logan sighs and puts down his burger. “Declan. Something’s going on.” 

Several somethings are going on, actually, but thanks. Declan shrugs again. “Haven’t been getting much sleep.” Which is a true statement. He’s written about ten different ways to tell Logan he’s leaving, nine of which are ripped up in the trash, one of which Declan just burned because he doesn’t want even scraps of that disaster to exist. 

Five days to go and Declan still hasn’t told him. Five days.  They don’t have many classes together, otherwise Logan would have pieced together the weird treatment from the teachers. Declan wonders if just disappearing into the void is an alright way to go, but a little Patton in his head chastises him for even considering it. 

Then again, at this rate…

“Hm,” Logan says. He has a thoughtful look on his face that’s absolutely devastating to Declan’s heart and general health and coherence of thought, let alone considering what’s about to come out of his mouth. “Is there a reason?” 

Declan considers, eyes narrowing as he stares at nothing. “I neglect to answer that question.” 

“So yes,” Logan says. The words fall from his lips with crushing sorrow. He takes a breath. “Why aren’t you telling me?” 

“Telling you what?” Declan says, internally wincing at the hurt flickering through Logan’s eyes.  

“Okay,” Logan says instead. He turns back to his food. 

They eat the rest of the meal in silence. 

-- 

Declan watches absentmindedly as Logan attempts to make a tower out of pens and pencils. With the addition of Roman’s copious amounts of colored pens, the tower is quite impressive. 

Two days. 

(Two Days).

Declan’s all packed. Sorta. Not really. He’s going to skip some classes in the future and pack all at once, throwing everything into the boxes (the empty boxes lining his room), not caring if anything breaks. 

He… 

He hasn’t told Logan yet. 

Or anyone, really, but Logan’s the one that -- the one that matters the most. 

Logan did, however, ask him if he was okay three times before leaving him be, because Logan knows that Declan becomes testy if asked the same question consistently. 

So basically, as far as Declan can figure, Declan’s a tool. Logan is trying, and Declan is giving him jack shit to work with. 

Patton has told all his friends, which means it’s only a matter of time before Logan finds out, right? Patton’s a sophomore, they’re seniors, and the school is large, but it’s also not as big as it seems. 

Roman, sitting next to him, hums under his breath as he types. He’s editing his college essay, which Declan would be doing if he had a college essay to edit and also cared enough. The atmosphere is strikingly calm, which leads to an anxious buzzing under Declan’s skin. 

Tell him. Just tell him. Just open your mouth and tell him. You’re in a library, he can’t get loud and yell. 

Declan wonders if yelling would be better, actually, than wide eyed stares and wounded expressions. 

He’s contemplating the merits of writing a letter (absolutely not, he doesn’t know why he’s even considering it) when he spots Patton out of the corner of his eye. 

Patton in and of himself does not scare Declan. 

The fact that he’s bee-lining for Declan and his friends does make him a bit nervous, though. 

“Cici,” Patton hisses. The cutesy play on Declan’s middle name sounds odd in such a harsh tone of voice. He glances at Logan before staring at Declan. 

Declan’s starkly aware of Roman and Logan’s attention when he says, “yeah?” 

“You told them?” Patton says, and Declan--

Well. 

A combination of fear and fury and regret zip through his veins at warp speed.

But Declan’s well trained in the art of deception. 

He schools his expression into one of cool indifference. “That I’m taking you for ice cream? Nah. I didn’t think they’d care. You wanna go right now?” 

Roman huffs a laugh, turning his attention back to his computer. Logan doesn’t look away, though, hand resting on a bright yellow flair pen. 

Patton’s brow furrows. “I mean the--”

“Man, if you were that impatient you could’ve texted me,” Declan interrupts with a long, drawn-out sigh. He stands, swinging his backpack over his shoulders. “I’ll see you guys later.” 

“Get me some ice cream next time,” Roman says, grinning. His gaze doesn’t leave his screen. “Bye, loser.” 

“Bye,” Logan echoes. 

Something registers in Declan’s brain-dead skull that Logan sounds lifeless because his best friend has been distant (Declan. Declan is Logan’s best friend). 

Declan pauses, sighs. Patton looks outraged and about two seconds from outing Declan. 

“I’m sorry,” Declan says. Logan looks up at him. “It’s not your fault. Just… I’m going through some things. You deserve to know. I shouldn’t shadow you without any info.” 

Patton looks even angrier, if possible, but then Logan’s talking and Patton hates interrupting people. 

“Okay,” Logan says, soft as ever. “I’ll wait for you.” 

And if that doesn’t make Declan feel like the nastiest motherfucker. 

“Let’s go,” Declan says, pulling Patton along before Patton lets loose. 

He opens his mouth, but Declan beats him to it, whispering, “Shh, we’re in a library.” 

“I cannot fucking believe you,” Patton hisses instead. 

“Language.” 

“You haven’t told them?” Patton exclaims. He yanks his wrist from Declan’s grip but continues following him, arms gesturing wildly. “You’re the worst.” 

“Tell me something I don’t know,” Declan mutters. 

“You better get me ice cream now,” Patton says, crossing his arms. “After making me watch that.” 

“That’s fair,” Declan concedes, and then realizes he’s going to have to spent the next thirty minutes listening to Patton chastise him and -- 

Honestly, he deserves it, but he doesn’t want it, but before he can say anything, Patton says, “don’t even think about escaping this.” 

So he’s stuck listening to Patton chastise him for the next thirty minutes until their next class starts. 

But he gets a turtle sundae out of it, so it’s like, at least 20% a win. 

--

“CICI,” Patton screams from the living room. 

Declan shoots to his feet, tripping and slamming his knee into the doorframe, scrambling to reach Patton as swiftly as possible. He appears at the edge of the living room, hand pressed against the wall, chest heaving, eyes blown wide. “What? What is it?” 

He assesses Patton for damage, but Patton’s standing with his phone clutched between his fingers, shaking ever so slightly but appearing physically fine. He’s staring at Declan, lip trembling. 

“Patton?” Declan says. 

Patton opens his mouth, tears dripping down his cheeks. He sniffs, making an angry noise in the back of his throat as he wipes at his face. “I shouldn’t tell you! I should let you suffer because you’re mean.” 

“Patton,” Declan says, approaching his brother like one might a wild animal. 

Patton shakes his head and Declan stops. 

“I’m upset!�� Patton says. Then he lets out a laugh, choked. “But I’m so relieved.”

Declan doesn’t say anything. 

Patton sniffles a few more times, then peeks at Declan through his fingers. Declan tries for a smile, sheepish. Patton smiles back, watery and soft. His shoulders shake as he laughs softly, his phone pressed against his cheek. “I was so scared.” 

“Me too,” Declan says. 

“I’m sorry,” Patton says, the anger draining from his face and leaving a wide-eyed pile of nerves. “I didn’t mean it. You’re not mean. You’re just scared.” 

“It’s okay,” Declan says. His arms hand limply by his sides. He wants to do something with them, to cross his arms or put them in his hoodie pockets or something, but he also wants to leave them available for when Patton wants a hug, so he stands awkwardly instead. “I forgive you.” 

“I’ve been calling Uncle Thomas,” Patton says. 

Declan’s heart does something funny in his chest. 

Patton pulls his hands away from his face, rubbing his cheeks clean, staring at his phone for a few moments before his hand drops, dangling at his side. “He’s -- he said he’s coming here. His job can be done online and the stuff he can’t do online he’ll fly back for which won’t be often, he said it’s important to him that we -- have a support system throughout highschool, and he wants us to finish here before doing anything else.” 

The information barely filters through Declan’s mind because when Patton exhales another sob Declan steps forward and envelops him in his arms on instinct. Patton’s legs go weak. Declan sinks to the ground, Patton pressing his face into Declan’s shoulder. 

“I’m sorry,” Patton mumbles. “I don’t know why I’m crying. This is good. This is good.” 

“Sometimes emotions have a funny way of showing,” Declan says. He runs his fingers through Patton’s hair, untangling the curls. “You’ve been stressed. It’s okay.” 

“Why aren’t you crying?” Patton says. He taps his palm against Declan’s chest, reminiscent of a smack without any of the power. “It’s not fair.”

Declan laughs, sort of. “I might later. I don’t know. Emotions are weird.” 

“You never told your friends you were moving,” Patton says. “Will they ever find out?” 

“Probably,” Declan says. He squeezes Patton. “I know you told your friends. It’s better your way. Even if it doesn’t feel like it.” 

“Mm.” 

Declan can feel the rise and fall of Patton’s chest. It slows as Patton calms down. “We don’t have to move,” Patton murmurs. 

“We don’t have to move,” Declan agrees, and Patton presses even closer. 

--

Declan doesn’t know how he finds his way to the beach but at one point he’s baking Patton cookies and the next he’s sitting on a slab of concrete overlooking the pitch dark waves. He knows Patton is sleeping, or is at least pretending to sleep. He vaguely remembers writing a note in case Patton looks for him. 

It’s been three days since Patton discovered Uncle Thomas’s moving plans. Discovered? Convinced? Declan isn’t sure. 

And he doesn’t really know how to react. He’s been moving on autopilot, making dinner, doing homework, putting in minimal effort into his friendships so they don’t abandon him on the side of the road -- 

No. Declan shakes his head. Putting minimal effort into his friendships because his friends don’t deserve to be cut off without a word. 

Nothing feels right. 

(Something is off). 

He hears footsteps and before he can whip around, before fear has the chance to truly take over his body, he hears, “this seat taken?” 

“No,” Declan says, and Logan sits next to him on the concrete. They’re quiet for a few moments, watching the reflection of the moon, tasting salt on their tongues. 

“Will you tell me what’s going on?” Logan says finally. 

Declan closes his eyes, breathes. His emotions are all tangled up in his chest and he doesn’t want to tap into it for fear that if he lets out a little he’ll let out everything. 

But Logan deserves to know. 

(He deserves someone better.)

“My mom lost,” Declan says, which sounds nicer than it did in his head. “She’s unfit to care for us, anyway, but now she’s officially calling prison her new home.” 

Logan’s quiet. Declan listens to his breathing. He spies Logan’s hand against the concrete and longs to close the distance and entangle their fingers, just for a modicum of physical comfort. The slightest hint of warmth permeates the air around Logan and Declan wants to lean closer, to press their arms together. 

“My Uncle, on my dad’s side, is taking care of us. He… wasn’t originally going to move here, but Patton talked to him and he decided moving here is the best course of action.” Declan shifts. He doesn’t know how to say it. He doesn’t know how to explain. 

Logan stops breathing. 

“I almost lost you,” he says, and it’s barely a whisper. 

Declan glances at him and can barely comprehend the amount of horror shining in Logan’s eyes. Logan’s staring at him, expression open and terrified. “I almost…” He exhales, shaking. Declan watches him so closely he can see the sticking of his chest as he breathes, the tremor of his shoulders. 

Declan’s heart stutters and he wants to tear his gaze away but he owes, he owes Logan this. Even though the only thing he wants to do is run away, to preserve himself. “I -- I never told you,” Declan says, more scared than he has been in a long time. He opens his mouth and stops, shrinking away. He looks over Logan’s shoulder, unable to maintain eye contact. “We were supposed to leave two days ago. I was going to tell you and then…” 

Then I found out that I’m in love with you, and it freaked me out so much I closed myself off. 

Logan’s truly shaking, and Declan doesn’t know what to do. You caused this. This is your fault. 

“Ugh! I’m sorry,” Declan exclaims. He can’t stand this, these tentative moments, fragile as glass. He wants to take a hammer to the whole affair. “I’m sorry. I know it’s not much but I was scared, and it’s not a valid excuse, but I was terrified, Logan, I couldn’t leave you! You mean too much to me!” 

“You mean a lot to me too,” Logan says, but Declan’s on a roll, now, there’s no stopping the hurricane in his heart. 

He moves his gaze to the waves, finding solace and energy in the constancy. “I was going to tell you when we were hanging out a few weeks ago in your room, and then I freaked out because -- and then I left, and haven’t been able to figure out how to word it since, and Patton’s better than I am, he told his friends almost immediately, imagine, having worse emotional competency than a fifteen year old--”

“Roman found out,” Logan says, grinding Declan’s tangent to a halt. “He mentioned something to me but I needed to hear it from you.” 

Declan stares at him. 

“I asked Patton if you were at home,” Logan explains. Declan can barely tell in the shadows, but Logan’s face seems to darken. “When he said no, I knew there was one other place you would go. Probably.” 

Declan worries his lip. He’s that predictable? 

“Why didn’t you tell me earlier?” Logan asks, quiet. 

“Because…” Liquid anxiety slogs through his veins. His voice drops, quiet, quieter than the sound of waves. “Because I think I’m in love with you, and I’m terrified.” 

For a second all he can hear is the crash of the sea and his heartbeat pounding in his ears. He doesn’t know why the moon isn’t falling from the sky, why the stars haven’t combusted, because his world feels like it’s falling apart at the seams. 

“I discovered that,” Declan continues, the words slipping between his lips before his mind has any say in the matter, “and didn’t know what to do, and then I needed to tell you I was leaving, and I love you, and I couldn’t. Because I’m a coward.” 

Another beat. Declan takes a long breath. “I still love you. And I’m no longer leaving.” 

“I suppose… now would be a bad time to bring up demiromanticism?” Logan tries. 

“It would be a terrible time, but thank you,” Declan says, and he can’t help the small puff of laughter that escapes. 

“I love you too,” Logan says, then, and Declan can’t breathe. 

He turns to Logan without thinking, searching his sapphire blue eyes for deception even though Logan has never, ever lied to him. He can’t hope, he can’t dare to hope, the world would never give him two miracles. “Don’t trick me.” 

“I’m in love with you,” Logan clarifies, nervous. His hands are wringing together and he’s biting his lip. 

Declan reaches out, fingers trembling, to brush against Logan’s cheek. “You…”

“I’ve been in love with you,” Logan says. He’s looking down, away from Declan’s gaze, but he leans into his touch. “For awhile. I never wanted to bring it up because… you were so adamant about being separate from romance…”

“I thought I was,” Declan says honestly. “Which is why this is a real fucking trip, let me tell you.” 

Logan laughs, and some of the tension in the air dissolves. “I can imagine.” 

“God, I love you,” Declan says. He brushes his thumb underneath Logan’s eye. 

“I love you too,” Logan says, eyes wide and sparkling, then he moves forward and cradles Declan’s head in his hands and Declan short circuits because he’s right there he’s RIGHT THERE and he’s touching him he loves him he loves him--

“You’re gorgeous,” Logan says, and Declan just stares at him dumbly because his mouth stops working. His heart is barely going, the only reason he’s not dead is because his body has some sort of instinctive survival instinct, or something. 

Emotion clog his throat and Declan doesn’t know how he’s not sobbing already so he’s unsurprised when the smallest tear slips out of his eye. 

“Oh,” Logan says, wiping the tear away. “I’m sorry.” 

“It’s -- it’s not -- it’s not you,” Declan chokes out. “God. This is so embarrassing.” 

“I don’t care,” Logan says. He leans closer, pressing their foreheads together and staring into Declan’s eyes. “It’s okay to cry.” 

Declan smiles thinly, blinking away tears. “I don’t deserve you.” 

Logan stares at him, brows furrowing. “What?”

“You’re so beautiful,” Declan says. His trembling hands hold Logan’s jaw. “And you’re so smart and passionate, and you have the most wicked sense of humor, and you’re my best friend.” 

“No,” Logan shakes his head. “I mean, I am your best friend, but there’s no deserve in a relationship. We’re just people. People make mistakes. I make mistakes. Please don’t sell yourself short.” 

Declan wants to say that only proves how good Logan truly is, but he settles for a simple, “Okay.” 

Logan brushes hair out of Declan’s eyes, then sighs, dropping his head to Declan’s shoulder. Declan’s hands slide down to Logan’s upper back.

“I’m glad you’re here,” Declan says. 

“I’m glad you’re here too,” Logan replies, muffled. He pulls away for a split second, eyes blurry and a crease already showing from his glasses pressing into his skin. “But if you withhold life-altering information like that from me again there will be issues.” 

“I won’t,” Declan says. He swallows. He hates promises. He hates them, because he never feels like he can maintain them. “I’ll… I’ll try my hardest.” 

Logan searches his gaze, nods, and then presses fully into Declan. 

“Woah, okay.” Declan shifts as Logan clings to him like a koala bear. Logan’s basically in his lap and Declan, well. Declan has no complaints. 

“I can do this as much as I want because we’re in love with each other,” Logan mutters, and wow, if that doesn’t send a thousand vibrations across his skin. In love with each other. 

Declan grins. He likes the sound of that. 

“You know,” Logan says conversationally. His fingers trail up to press against Declan’s face, outlining his lips. “I love it when you smile.” 

Declan hums, his smile broadening. Me too, Logan. 

Me too.

[pettyprocrastination]

Ok I have a major thing for handwriting idk so what do you think Ezra's handwriting looks like? (And on that topic, try not to think about love letters from Ezra when you're apart... Or do, I'd love to hear your thoughts bc I'm kinda dying here) I also feel like he's the kind of person to have just... a box of things you've written for him... Like literally anything. Shopping lists, letters, etc. and when he's away he takes them out and reads them :))

okay im feeling lonely and a little sad tonight so I immediately ran with this and uhhhhh this happened. (last bit is between him and reader from the thing “Stupid Man” that i posted earlier today. ) this ended up being a bit longer than expected sorry lmao

I’ve never written Ezra before please be gentle with me y’all

For this we're gonna say that Ezra is right-handed. 

I think Ezra had beautiful handwriting. Smooth, sloping neat lines ever since he was able to write. While other kids had to work on their penmanship, his was a natural gift. His handwriting was one that teachers would compliment in grade school, so distracted by the smooth strokes of his pencil that they hadn’t noticed the words used on his assignments weren’t even his, but that of the student sitting right next to him. The girls in his class would giggle and swoon at the albeit juvenile words of affections he’d write to them on secret notes passed back and forth between them, a habit he kept well into his adulthood. While he wasn’t proud of it, the harvester would leave notes of bittersweet goodbyes to lovers the morning after, remarking on how he would never forget the time spent working together on harvesting deposits as well as the intimate “and dare I say magical” nights they spent with one another. The women he laid with would be so enamored with his words and the rose tinted images his words painted, that by the time they would realize he’d taken off with their share of the harvest as well as his own, he’d be far enough into the stars all they could do was curse his name to the sky in anger. 

And then, one harvest in the Green, he had met a man named Damon and a brave little girl named Cee. 

These meetings, whether it was predestined or not, lead to him losing his right arm, and with it his beautiful handwriting. 

Learning to write again was frustrating, as a child it had come to him with ease, a natural gift. But as a grown man? Kevva alive it was enough to make him contemplate putting his fist through a wall. Until-

“Ez,” You poked your head into the den, eyes squinting and a blanket wrapped tight around your shoulders. “It’s three am, come to bed baby.”

You. 

You made it worth it. With every shy smile you wore each time he gave you a written proclamation of his love and dedication to you, no matter how messy his chicken scratch writing was you’d pepper his face with his kisses in gratitude. 

“My poet.” You’d coo in his ear. He’d feel that every moment of frustration was worth it, if he could see you like this every time. 

After losing his arm, Ezra became more appreciative of little written things. The notes you’d leave on the kitchen counter when you go to work, the way you doodle smiley faces and cartoon fruit on grocery lists, even the little slips of encouragement you sneak into his pocket when you thought he wouldn't notice. 

He did notice. He noticed every time actually. But he didn’t say anything out of fear that you would stop. 

Ezra had a little box of mementos about you, a ticket stub from the first movie you saw, an aurelac gem from your first dig together (one he swore to himself to never sell) and all the little notes, lists, and reminders you’d ever written. When one of you has to leave for a long period of time, whether it be work, or family or whatever reason. Each time he’ll open that box when he feels deepest in his lonesome, and his heart will lift just the tiniest bit. 

(next bit is just a little except with Ezra x Alien!Reader following this prompt)

Ezra must not have heard your key slide into the lock, or the door open at all. The washing machine was loud enough to drown it out, the damn thing was on its last life as it shook and trembled enough for you to send it a distasteful glare as if it were human. 

The wood creaked under your steps and yet, nothing. No thumping of excited feet to be met with a bruising kiss to your lips, mumbled “I missed you” against one another as you inevitably celebrated your return in bed with each other. 

You continued your trek to his bedroom as softly as you could. 

Maybe he was asleep?

He sat on the corner of his bed, his back to you and a box in his lap.

You found yourself staring at him with a smile, leaning against the door frame as you watched his sift through a box full of little notes and lists you’d written over your time together with a bittersweet smile. 

“Is this what you do whenever I leave?”

Ezra jumped, flinging the box from his lap and spilling all it’s contents onto the floor. A variety of emotions crossed over his face before one took over them all at the sight of you. 

Pure joy. 

He crossed to you in three quick strides. His hand found itself at the nape of your neck, pulling you to him for a heated kiss that you were all too grateful for due to your time apart. 

“Oh my darling warrior has returned.” He spoke between the feather-light kisses he laid all over your face, turning you into a fit of flustered giggles at the feeling of his scruff against your skin.

 “Were those diplomats as horrid and soulless as you claimed them to be?”

You pulled away and groaned. “Even worse. But that doesn’t matter now.”

“That it does not.” He agreed, his thumb rubbed comforting circles against your skin. “Not a day went by when I didn’t think of that shining smile or alluring voice, having you part from me is like robbing an addict of their temptation.”

You pressed your hand against his mouth. If he spoke any further you definitely wouldn’t be able to focus on anything other than taking off his clothes. “Enough of that smooth talker.” Your eyes went to the pile of notes across the floor. You spotted one, a tiny birthday card with a coffee stain on the corner, that was from the first time you celebrated his birthday together. It had been three months into your relationship. You stared up at him.

“You really kept them all?”

The look in his eyes, so soft and tender part of you was worried he’d break in your hands. But you knew better than that. 

“I’d be a fool if I didn’t, brave one.” He rested his forehead against yours, exhaling a shaky breath as he did. “I am afraid I’m not as strong as I first surmised I would be at your frequent departures-”

Guilt washed over you in a hot wave. “Ezra-”

“-but I am extremely grateful that you return to me each time.” He interrupted, a soft kiss pressed against your pulse-point to punctuate, your eyes fluttered shut and he smiled. 

“It is a blessing with no disguise that such a woman as yourself would go see the world and decide to return to the humble abode of a lowly, former harvester such as myself after each one. I do not need a reminder of that gift, but still, it helps the distance feel just a click smaller.”

You sniffed and bumped your forehead against his with a tear smile. “Stupid man.” You weakly scolded, your voice wavering and not holding its usual command of the room. 

Ezra smiled, oh how he loved to hear you call him that. Ever since you first found him years ago on your home planet, and witnessed him nearly get killed because of his lack of knowledge on the plant life there. You’d guided him throughout his dig, all while criticizing his stupidity, lack of preparation and “positively abhorrent attitude, you stupid man! Coming to a planet you know nothing of? Surely you want to die!”

Over time he learned that “stupid man” was your version of “I love you.”

“You know you’ll never be without me, Ezra.” You dipped your head down and pressed a kiss to his chest. “No matter how far I am, you will always have me with you. Please don’t ever forget that.”

His hand slid up to rest on your cheek, you didn’t miss the way his fingers trembled oh so slightly against your skin. 

“Oh gentle warrior.” He whispered with a warm smile. “I do not deserve you.”

You thought-no, you knew he deserved you and much more. But he hadn’t realized that yet. You believed that Ezra deserved the world. You couldn’t give him that, so you settled for your love, devotion and handwritten notes slipped into his back pocket when you thought he wouldn’t notice. 

He noticed every time.

[kendrixtermina]

Now here's an all new theory for where the procrastination comes from

Like the uni councilors thought of like generic selfhate insecurity or like spineless ppl pleasing (nope an anime cured me of that when I was 13 - thst sounded more like what that ladys own problems might be), fear or failure & wanting to spite my father, eveb that getting ahead through "talent" was an unfair advantage bad tainted and evil, or that "talent" meant being beholden and controlled by others (definitely somewhat right - we worked on that, it helped, the second guy was defs much much more helpful & compatible cause he focussed a lot more on strategies than wannabe-maternal pep talks) but there was always something else there that wasnt getting touched

In tje end I dont think I have talent and in any case what really matters is attitude toward "living the examined life" for example whst you do. What you notice.

Now I did notice that things get harder to do precisely because I actually want them(whereas a lot of ppl get distracted from stuff because they dont really want it) - at the same time I can totally function or pick up new habits in day to day life its not like I have some "hardware problem" like, say, ADHD or the like.

Like of course its some emotional knot it couldnt be anything else but I feel they didnt identify what kind of knot? Certainly not that first lady. If im trying to get clarity and you give me reassuring pep talks you just freak me out more for the love of god tell me whats happening. Nothing worse when a Doctor says "it will be over soon" rather than explain the procedure

Fear of/ distraction from wanting itself never really occured to me thats not a common stereotypical fear that ppl talk about.

Let me get this straight I never thought I was better than anyone I knew very well that I'm not. I thought of both those things as ways not to get bullied, maybe get somewhere where I feel that im in the right place.

If I look back at really breaking experiences it was times I really really wanted something and then I couldnt do it or some outside party stepped on my fingers. That Tori Amos Music Video where she escapes from a psycho killer's trunk and then the passerby's dont help her? That was my most favorite music video in the world for years maybe still is.

Like I was told I could maybe skip third grade and I poured all my energy and passion and strenght into that everything I had to do well, make friends with the new class i was so highly motivated I aced all the exams I felt so happy & fulfilled just being in thst flow state all the time... i wanted this more than anything. Maybe it was the first time I really wanted something beyond vague dreams or base desires. But the homeroom teacher hated my guts and put the kibosh on that; Probably because I was unwittingly repeating some of the artogant classist shit my father spouts without realizing how hurtful it is. my parents thought it wasnt worth going to the higher ups for that but having to essentially redo 4th grade in a crap school in the different town we moved to was one of the worst times of my life. Also I didnt find out that the teacher had hated me/acted in a petty way until years after I thought I just failed. That there was a possible place I could have belonged but turns out I really belong nowhere after all.

All my effort was for nothing. It was such a joy - i mean these days even getting code to work or solving math problems has that same joy - but all that effort and joy and wanting did was that... im tearing up and searching for the words to even process this tbh. I think I denied that joy, told myself that I was just a stupud kid thinking I was a special snowflake. It didnt even matter.

Rather than insist on staying up late to make sure my homework was done I just stopped caring and hardly did another piece of homework in my life just faking it on the spot or coasting through. It could have gone another way maybe if it werent for the bullies and my father the chief bully or if only I was more determined but it was like "okay I dont care anymore I just dont care" and I think thats stayed my default response to dissapointment to this day.

This TV show didnt turn out like I wanted? I dont care its just a tv show.

My father treated be with hatred all my life? Its okay I dont care about him and I dont want his love anyway.

Like there were other times when I thought I could be happy.

Like I really wanted to go to this boarding school for gifted kids. Again I thought maybe incorrectly that this would be a place where I can belong and not be bullied it was never about being better than anyone.

Again I wanted it I clamored and cried and made noise nonstop. Maybe I still hadnt wholly lost contact with willpower back then. I still thought of myself as strong willed.

And my father made me regret it. It was around the same time that mom briefly considered divorce maybe I was just the stress valve. Or he took it personally as wanting to get away from him. Duh he abused me of course I wanted away from him. He was such a suffocating control freak! Mom said yes first then he spoke to her and suddenly she followed everything he said. Thats when I really realized how emotionally manipulative was how abusive... i mean one of my first conscious memories of him is thinking "oh crap I will be just like cinderella" but he really laid it on so thick so transparently even a 10 year old could tell its manipulation. If you do this you dont love your mom. If you do this you dont love your siblings. If you dont obey me your mom will kill herself. No she wont you jerk even my 2 year old self could tell youre abusive.

The most cruel thing he did was briefly say yes. Again I got so happy. So invested. Just bending all I was towards that even though he bombarded me with abuse and mental torture.

And then on the day we were supposed to leave he said no youre not going.

Maybe I actually did say I didnt want to go because of one time he was doing this constant scientology type torture on me

That same reaction: "I dont want it I dont want anything so please please let me be"

Ppl think of bad childhoods as a game that you win if yoz turn 18 -or 28 maybe - without killing yourself. But its not. Every year you live it can take away from your potential. Every day less than you have to live it

He sure didnt let me have sucess with his overcontrol and abuse. Anything I was proud of he rules. When I graduated from school with a fairly good but not perfevt final score he humiliated me. When I turned 18 he humiliated me. Everything I did was a burden even just feeding and washing me. Hed give me unwanted white elephant gifts then bitch about how giving them to me ruined his life cause he had to work so muxh "Ingrate Ingrate Ingrate" Butch I never asked for anything I want nothing!

But as I had to eat I did in fact have to ask things of him and I hated it so much.

No wonder that I turned out afraid of wanting things eh?

Hed seen some poster when we went to see tje school I wanted to go to - not by the school by an individual student - about the history of abortion portrayed in a positive way or at least that was his official reason why I couldnt go. Again I had wanted something badly with all my being and again all my being availed nothing. Irrelevant like I didnt exist. All my screaming gone unheard.

And this is so silly cause im not a child anymore I have control and if I were to stop procrastinating I could have money and gave even more control.

I havent even spoken to him in years now hes no longer relevant. Its not about him its about thus bad pattern I picked up.

I like how this books handles it with the idea that certain experiences dont create the type but that it nakes you uniquely suceotible to certain kinds of hurt or certain misunderstandings.

Because with all this discourse about bad message free media ive really come to think that while it can and should be minimized its not possible to eradicate cause human mibds are so quicl so fallible to extract overgeneralizations and make it mean something abput themselves

Like an immature statistical learning model easily overtrained by noisy data.

Another time I was nearly happy was when I started looking for work, doing my thesis...

Same pattern I was engaged, happy to be engaged talking to ppl at both work and in the uni work group loving it all so much...

my life had started to feel meaningful again. And it had gotten to that point in part because of my ex-fiance. Yes the councelling heloed taking up meditation helped, getting high on morning glory that one time helped a whole lot got more self esteem from that than I ever got from my father.

But that all started because of my ex fiance.

He was an i tellectual type and he had a sense of purpose about him like hes a legendary character and everyone around him became legendary too. And he found me useful! Others had called me "walking dictionary" with mockery and scorn he called me his google and it meant love and admiration. Maybe I got a bit of an ego trip off of tjat but I also really stupidly dumbtastically loved him I bragged of him to anyobe who listened everything he did seemed fascinating abd interesting and meaningful, but also I just loved the sweet gentle warmth of being next to him in the morning. Once again I was happy and everything was joyful even when it was hard, I felt strong and meaningful and useful and I let myself openly want things.

And then it all blew up. Worse yet i was so mistaken abozt him it really shook my confidence in my own judgement or any sense of clarity. I was si confused during the fucking breakup like I hadnt been since I left my father's house.

Google hah! More like his personal Alexa! It turns out he didnt respect or like me at all.

I couldnt even be sad or angry cause it was all my mistake. The one feeling I allowed - and even that took me weeks to identify - is dissapointment. Heavy leaden dissapointment i didnt even kniw that was a feeling you could feel so strongly. I didnt even do anything wrong you have to open yourself to have love. He could habe choosen to love me he just simply didnt. He probably thought he did but he wouldnt evebn do something as simple as not make fun of my voice or clean when I am sick.

Once he started putting me in the "wife" role he just became unable to see me. His loss really cause I think he wanted to keep me from all those annoying texts and email he had the nerve to write.

By all means I was right to trust but also right to leave later but still my sense of certainty and purpose and meaning was totally shaken. He did the sort of romantic stuff I didnt think was real. I knew I loved him when we had this conversation about water on mars. He got me the perfect books for my birthday! He said I was pretty and a genius and looked just like an actress. He got me this titanic esque heart pendant with stars. We were stuck at midnight in a train station that one time and he pulled out a picnic rug two plastic glasses and a shampain bottle. It never worked out but he said he might take me to see the LHC! I really thought we would be buried in the same hole folks!. He had read that same steven Hawkings book that I loved. One of the rather few books he actually read as I would find. Sigh.

And I fell right back into that same old pattern. Dont care about anything dont want anything it would be stuoid unrealistic and silly to want.

When I first came to uni I also had this feeling of hapiness and belongingness and wanting, I was putting in an effort, talking to ppl more.. and when things went wrong the slightest bit I pulled by hand back from that like from an open flame.

And here I am years later most the sucess or contact I get is comments on my fanfictions.

I thought I was doing that, or drawing, because its Stakes/Evaluation-free (going by the fear of failure theory) or because at least with the ffs gratification/payoff for effort is immediate compared to original stuff or uni work. Its a nice little niche at least.

I mean I do care about it its not "just" distraction but maybe ive been profaning it in that way... and so etimes I dont even do that and go for full unadulterated undebatable distraction; Line to 7 I guess. Tje only reason I spoke face to face to anyone else than the delivery guy this week is that I had some doctors appointments.

But not its distraction from stuff Im too lazy to do or even from pressure like I always thought. But from wanting things.

So the original fiction went great while it was a distraction from school not so much when its one of the things I most want and actually have the time to do it.

Even thought thats the most practiced skill I have that I never stopped working on since I was 10. 🤦‍♀️

I mean they already explained that its basically like meditation. Or weeds. Or popup ads. Youve got to click them away as they pop up.

I always told myself thst I didnt have to be happy... and thats not even untrue actually but it would sure be neat to be happy again one of these days.

[thesasscat]

The Mandela Effect

I don't know who might see this but I'm going to say this right now I AM NOT CRAZY! I just need someone, ANYONE to believe me! It all started a few days ago . .

My life is FAR from perfect, my wife and I are poor getting by on thrifting, and food pantries; I work a job I despise, but my family is what makes it beautiful. The day ended as usual, tucking my eldest in bed for the night, getting my infant to sleep and finally my wife and I going to bed.

This is where things, went so wrong. I've lived my whole life not knowing my greatest fear until I learned about a moment in history called "The man from a country that doesn't exist" and then i realised that was in fact my greatest fear. I'm now living that scenario!

* * *

I woke up in an apartment I have never seen before. Already freaked out I went to get out of bed but found I wasn't alone, I was hoping it was my wife and some how this would make sense, but no it was my ex; I screamed. He woke with a start.

"Cat! What the hell?!."

"What date is it!"

"What has gotten-"

"WHAT FUCKING DATE IS IT!"

"It's December nineth, twenty-twenty. Why are you being such a bitch this morning?!"

Slightly less panicked but also more annoyed with him, I jumped out of the bed and found my phone. I left the room to look for my eldest, I doubted I would find my infant in whatever nightmare I was in! "Felicity! Time to get up! Felicity?!" WHERE IS SHE!

I started feeling tears spring to my eyes as panic welled up again. I searched for my wife in my contacts. It's not here! I tried finding on my Facebook list. No! But I noticed a mutual friend that introduced us however was online. Please have answers! This can't be happening! Please don't let this be real!

Hey question ur still friends w/ Rosalina on Discord or Facebook or wutever yes?

I waited what seemed like an hour, whiping my tears, even though it was likely just three minutes for their response.

U know Rosy?

Uh ya! U introduced us we've been together...well a while now!

......uhhh r u ok? Cuz I never introduced u 2......Cat....she killed herself 2 years ago....I'm sorry but if this is some kind of sick joke it's not funny!

The floor and ceiling suddenly inverted, and everything went black

* * *

I woke up in the same strange apartment but on a couch this time, my head ached as I tried remember everything before. My heart dropped as I remembered what Juno told me, tears spraing up again in gusto, as grief washed over me remembering my wife was dead, likely on the same date as her last attempt but this time she suceeded.

She never knew how much I loved her, of the beautiful baby girl we had together, she never knew the life we built together. I would never have the chance to ever look into those beautiful green eyes of hers or even run my fingers through her hair.

"CAT!"

I snapped to attention he must have been trying to get my attention for a while.

"What."

"Ok what the fuck is up with you today? And who is Felicity?!"

"Our kid! You know sassy blonde blue eyes carbon copy of my but smaller ring any bells?" I completely forgot how much he really brought out the worst in me.

"Did you hit your head or something because you're acting completely crazy!"

"I'M NOT CRAZY!" I shouted bolting upright, "I'M STUCK IN THE MANDELA EFFECT AND NONE OF THIS IS SUPPOSED TO BE HAPPENING! I LEFT YOU. THREE YEARS AGO! WE HAD A KID! I MOVED ON AND YOU DIDN'T I FOUND SOMEONE NEW AND YOU ALWAYS HATED THAT! HATED THAT I MOVED ON TO SOMEONE BETTER AND STOPPED TAGGING AROUND WITH YOU! THAT I BEGAN PUTTING UP BARRIERS AND REFUSED TO LET YOU TEAR THEM DOWN!" My face felt hot, I was shaking as all of this sank in. He looked taken aback but it didn't matter.

Felicity doesn't even exist here either, my whole life I had before is completely gone for good. My sweet girls.... Annabelle..... Felicity.....

"Uh huh.......you haven't started any new medication right?"

"FUCK YOU!" I shouted, throwing the nearest object at him. I left out the front door livid, not even bothering to grab a change of clothes or shoes, and did something I never thought I would do. I opened my phone and called my mom.

"Hey sweetie!"

"Mom... can you come get me?"

A pause.

"<Dead nam>-" I grimaced as I did my best to pretend she didn't dead name me, "Im, in Utah remember? I would love to see you but that's a bit of a drive, i would have to make just for a visit. Is everything ok?" I pondered whether to tell her or not, but I figured the worst she could do is point out the fact psychosis runs in the family, or just make it about her.

"You'll believe me right?"

Her tone of voice changed to her lawyer voice, "<Dead name> are you safe or do you need someone to get you?"

"No it's just you remember me talling you and the story of a man from a country that didn't exist......and how that freaked me out more than anything in the world?" I tried keeping my voice steady, as tears welled up again.

"Yes but what does that have to do with our conversation?"

I drew a breath, and my words came flooding out "I'm living in it, I'm in some kind of worLD WHERE SOMEHOW I'M BACK WITH CLYDE AND ROSY AND I WERE NEVER TOGETHER WE NEVER HAD OUR LITTLE FAMILY AND WE NEVER MET AND WE NEVER WILL MEET AND I DON'T EVEN KNOW WHERE HER GRAVE IS SO I CAN NEVER GO SEE HER AND I'M SCARED AND I WANT THIS TO BE JUST A REALLY BAD DREAM BUT IT'S NOT AND I WANT OUT OF HERE!" I finished through sobs.

Another pause "Ok I am going to call Emily to come get you and let her know you need some air, but I think maybe a trip to the psych hospital is also possibly needed-"

"MOM! I'M NOT CRAZY I DON'T BELONG IN THIS LIFE! YOU HAVE TWO OTHER GRANDCHILDREN THEIR NAMES ARE FELICITY AND ANNABELLE. FELICITY IS FOUR, SHE LOOKS JUST LIKE ME SHE'S SASSY, LOVES POKEMON, MY LITTLE PONY AND DINOSAURS! ANNABELLE IS ALMOST A YEAR OLD SHE WAS THE NICU BABY SHE HAS RED HAIR, SHE'S THE FANCY GIRL! SHE LOVES SOFT THINGS, CUDDLES AND SOFIA THE FIRST! ROSALINA WAS MY WIFE SHE WAS A FEW INCHES TALLER THAN ME AND WE HAD SUCH A WONDERFUL LIFE TOGETHER!" I'm shaking worse than ever.

"<Dead name>"

"STOP CALLING ME THAT I CAME OUT AS NONBONARY AND CHANGED MY NAME 6 YEARS AGO!"

"I'm going to call your sister now." She said before hainging up. I threw my phone on the ground with all of my strength. I wanted to scream to hit my head as hard as possible and hope to wake up finding out this wasn't real. THIS CAN'T BE REAL!

My younger sister texted my phone the notification popping up on my now shattered screen.

Mom is on the phone with me right now

R u sure ur ok?

I typed furiously, wincing as my fingers caught on glass splinters.

I'M NOT CRAZY!!!!!

* * *

I'm refusing to go any redirect my sister asked for us to go to outside of her place, I know they're having me committed. I'm trying to act casual as I try typing this all on my phone and pretending my shattered screen isn't a big deal. I need just one person please say you believe me! I'm NOT crazy like everyone thinks I am. I'm not acting out some complex delusion, these people I am now grieving are real and I love them more than life itself.

Please, anyone at all tell me you believe me, please show me I'm not the crazy person every one is saying I've become.