#is this thing on are y’all seeing what I’m seeing here

[burrowkit]

I’m sorry, but no.

So…

Okay.

Let’s start with how I came to the conclusion of this being from a USA person POV.

From the prompt itself, health insurance rep. Right off the bat, that’s not really something I see in Canada.

We have our benefits/health benefits/health and wellness plan. This covers things like drugs, prescriptions not covered by the provincial health insurance that we do not think about (or most of us don’t).

These benefits cover the dentist, going to the optometrist, massages, therapy, physio, etc. It likely doesn’t cover any of these (drugs included) completely. But usually it brings it down to $20.

Usually.

They would not call me, unless the plan is ending and even then, it’s generally an email from the company you work for.

I might call them for clarifications on what’s covered, but generally, I just upload my claims and things are handled. Usually approved, and if it’s not, then it’s clearly laid out in the documentation.

Secondly, if you’re talking about provincial health insurance… I mean, I could look up the number, but I have no idea anything about contacting them.

Everything is handled by the doctors offices. Including when I had surgery just last year.

Chest x rays whenever I had pneumonia? Free. I was given the form, went for the appointment, returned home.

They wouldn’t be my “health insurance rep”, they’d be the secretary or the contact person or even the doctor for the clinic / service.

So all that, on simple words, implies USA-based.

Then, we get into the writing-prompt-s blog having previously had a bunch of posts for the USA election (as I recall, so many posts), but I haven’t seen much of anything about Canada or Australia’s elections on tumblr.

Next point, y’all (with a Canadian accent, so it’s just a standard word and not a southern USA accent word) keep bringing up MAID.

Okay. So, I remember when it was coming it. The purpose of MAID is so that someone with terminal cancer (stage 4), is in a lot of pain, will die soon, and will die painfully, can choose to die with mercy instead of painfully, drawn out, and having their loved ones be tortured with every good and bad day.

I remember articles coming out about people signing up, and being denied come the day because they were no longer eligible.

Why? Because you must opt into MAID, you aren’t just randomly told you’re dead cause of over population.

(Not to mention that in general, our cities might be over populated, but there is a lot of inhabitable land, and rural sections. But anyways).

I recognize people are sharing stories online of issues with MAID, but it should be used as a mercy death, where the person opts in.

So… question… do people know the difference between being told and opting in? Cause if not… that explains a few things in the world stage.

Especially since after an election with our neighbour, many people expressed interest in joining Canada. Canadians said “sure! Here’s how you go about doing this!”

Silence. Cool. You don’t want to come to Canada. Moving on.

Then their leader said “you’re joining us”.

Many think it’s the same. It’s not.

In this last example, it might seem like 2 POVs, but it’s the same side doing the work.

With MAID and this prompt, its opposite sides. The person has to agree vs the government (or corporation) dictating.

So… end result… it’s not the USA’s exact circumstances, but it’s also not Canada’s.

I’d say it’s more USA-inspired with their healthcare system, or a USA view of Canada.

Maybe a bit of both.

Anyways, I’m sorry, writing-prompt-s. This just kind of seemed more polarizing than most prompts. I’m sorry you aren’t getting the writing answers deserved for this prompt.

Maybe this one struck a little too close to reality? Idk.

Hope everyone has a good day though, and I hope NO ONE ever actually encounters this prompt in their real life.

Edit: I don’t care which country the OP is from, I’m just pointing out that it appears there’s a more USA based pov. Which is ABSOLUTELY OKAY! It’s not my business. But it does help frame my original point, is all.

"We're sorry." The health insurance rep on the phone spoke on the other end with an indifferent tone "Due to our countries laws of Overpopulation, you have been selected for the Downsizing Program. It is now your legal obligation to die."

[itoshiierae]

when you accidentally say you hate them #2 ⊹˚.

──★ ˙🧷 ̟ !!

ᡣ𐭩 ft: rin itoshi, sae itoshi, oliver aiku, nagi seishiro, isagi yoichi

ᡣ𐭩 notes: here’s part one. and once again, this is not proofread HAHAHA. i probably rushed this a little bc i didn’t wanna keep y’all waiting too long, so pls forgive any errors :c but anywayy, here’s part 2. enjoy!!!! <33

ᡣ𐭩 cw: angst (at first), then fluffff <33, you & oliver’s relationship dynamic is wayyy different from the others HAHAH, not isagi being the ONLY confrontational king among the 5 😵‍💫

extras: but let’s be fr, the rest of them are NOT the ‘let’s-talk-it-out’ type unless they’re being cornered lol 💀😭

──★ ˙🧷 ̟ !!

౨ৎ RIN ITOSHI ౨ৎ

the hallway feels emptier without the quiet drag of his footsteps. no soft shuffle of socks, no keys clinking lazily by the door, no sleepy voice mumbling about coffee. just a note, carefully written and left on the coffee table — too neat for how much it hurts.

[“didn’t know if you’d want me around today. left early. don’t worry about it.”]

the kind of sentence that pretends it doesn’t ache to write. you sat with it for what felt like hours— long enough for the coffee to go cold, long enough to wonder if maybe staying silent was worse than saying the wrong thing. the note didn’t move, but your thoughts circled it like grief.

you just sat at the table, phone in hand, trying to type the right words.

sent 09:42am: [ i didn’t mean it. ]

sent 09:42am: [ please talk to me. ]

sent 09:43am: [ come home rin. ]

none of them delivered. or maybe they did — and he just didn’t want to answer.

──★

the lock clicks just past midnight — long after you gave up checking your phone. like he came back only when he was genuinely sure you’d stopped waiting for him.

your body jerks awake where you’d accidentally dozed off on the couch — curled up, blanket barely pulled over your legs.

he stops mid-step when he sees you.

he doesn’t say anything at first. just stands there in the doorway, keys still dangling from his hand, his silhouette washed in dim light.

and then —

“why are you—” he stops. voice flat.

“...you shouldn’t sleep out here.”

you blinked hard, still groggy, heart pounding too loud to answer right away.

“i was waiting for you.. rin,” the words slipping out like a confession you’d rehearsed too many times to forget.

his eyes flicker — sharp for a second like instinct, then soften, like he almost let something show.

but just as quickly, it’s gone again.

blank. unreadable.

like as if he’s rebuilding the walls even as he looks at you.

“you said you hated me,” he says, quietly— not like an accusation, but like a memory he hasn’t been able to stop replaying.

“i didn’t mean it,” your voice breaks.

“i was tired. upset. i just… i mean i say things when i’m scared.”

he exhales, low and steady, like he’s trying not to feel too much at once. like he’s caught between staying mad and missing you.

“you were scared,” he repeats, eyes narrowing just slightly.

“and i was what? something safe to push?”

after he said that, the silence between the both of you is thick again. but this time, it feels more like a storm circling — not a goodbye. your head dips, slow, as if the guilt weighs heavier than the words did as you gave him a silent nod, but not a proud one, more like regret dressed in silence.

“i was scared of losing you. and i still am. i missed you so much rin..”

his shoulders ease, just barely — like he’s still holding onto the edge, but some part of him is tired of fighting.

“don’t say things you don’t mean,” he mutters.

“not to me.”

and then, so soft you almost miss it:

“i missed you too… come here now.”

౨ৎ SAE ITOSHI ౨ৎ

you still haven’t fully processed what just happened.

he didn’t yell. he didn’t slam the door, but it still stings — the way that you never truly got to talk it out with him before he went off.

you stood in the middle of the apartment like the argument was still ringing off the walls.

“i hate when you act like this — no… i hate you sometimes.”

and the worst part?

you’re not even sure if you meant it. or if you just needed to say something loud enough, cruel enough, real enough… to make him feel something back.

but now the apartment felt empty. almost as if, he took the noise with him when he left.

and you couldn’t stop staring at the door. like if you watched long enough, maybe he’d walk back through it — maybe he’d say something to make it okay.

but he didn’t.

──★

you sent two texts. one asking if he was okay. one trying to undo what you said.

he never replied.

but you stayed near the door anyway, just in case the silence meant something other than goodbye.

──★

he came back at midnight, hours after you’d given up sitting by the door, hours after you’d replayed the fight for at least a hundred times in your head.

you were curled up on the couch, half-asleep under a throw blanket, when you heard the key in the lock.

you didn’t move at first. you weren’t sure if you were supposed to. the door opened with a quiet click — then shut just as softly.

you sat up slowly, “sae…”

he paused, still facing the door as he took a breath.

“i’m tired,” he said, flatly.“can we not fight again tonight?” the words hit like a plea dressed as indifference.

you rose slowly, like the moment might break if you moved too fast.

“we’re not fighting,” you said softly.

“not anymore”.

after a pause that felt heavier than silence, you continued, “you know… i didn’t mean what i said.” you whispered.

silence.

and then without turning he said — “then why’d you say it?” his voice so quiet it almost felt like a thought, not a question.

your throat tightened, like the words were scraping on the way out.

“… because i was scared. and hurt. i thought maybe saying something ugly would make you.. i don’t know?? …look at me again??”

he finally turned around to face you, but not fully.

“wait… you think i don’t look at you?” his voice didn’t rise, but it cracked around the edges — like that was the one thing he never thought you’d doubt.

“not when it matters,” you said.“not when i’m falling apart in front of you.”

for a long moment, he said nothing then —

“i wasn’t ignoring you... i just didn’t know what to say without making it worse.”

your voice snagged on the ache in your chest. you tried to say something, but nothing came out. and then finally— finally he stepped closer towards you. no apology in his expression. no grand gesture, just a tired man standing in a dim-lit living room, looking at someone he wasn’t ready to lose.

“i’m still here,” he said quietly, staring straight into your eyes.

“even if i don’t always know how to show it.”

and the second those words left his mouth, you threw your arms around him — like letting go wasn’t an option anymore.

he stayed still, the weight of you in his arms settling over him — something he hadn’t realized he’d been missing. and then his hands found your back, unsteady, fingers trembling, almost as if he wasn’t sure he deserved this.

“i hate you,” you whispered, half-laughing, half-crying.

“not really. but kind of. but not really.”

you felt his chest rise with the smallest exhale.

“whatever,” he muttered.

“you’re annoying.”

but he didn’t let you go.

౨ৎ OLIVER AIKU ౨ৎ

he didn’t come back for three days.

no calls. no texts. not even a missed story view. he was gone — just like that. for a moment, it almost felt like the two of you had never been in a relationship at all. you almost wanted to call him, but you stopped yourself.

and then on day 4, he walked in like nothing happened.

like you hadn’t screamed that you hated him infront of everyone, like he hadn’t just straight up ignored you & then laughed too loud at another girl’s joke right after you said it. like his silence hadn’t stretched for days and made you question everything.

“yo,” he said casually, tossing his keys onto the dining table.

you stared at him. and he stared right back at you — like it really was just another random tuesday morning.

“so… did you make breakfast?” he asked casually.

“yeah… you want some?”

“nah,” he shrugged. “just checking if you still love me.”

you almost felt a laugh rise, but it got lost somewhere between your chest and your pride.

──★

the rest of the day passed like nothing happened. the two of you talked and joked like always. he picked an episode of something he knew would annoy you — and you watched it anyway.

halfway through, he even made popcorn, stole your favorite blanket, acted like everything was okay.

and maybe for a while, you let yourself believe it was.

but underneath it all, it felt too easy. like walking across a floor made of glass while pretending you didn’t hear it crack. and neither of you mentioned about what happened that day. until it happened.

your fingers grazed his when you handed him the remote — and you recoiled before he could react. but he didn’t move at all, almost as if your touch didn’t scare him the way his did to you.

neither of you spoke for a while. not out of peace, but tension. until you finally broke it with:

“sooo like… are we really not gonna talk about what happened that day?” your voice tried to stay light, but the tension bled through anyway.

he leaned back — tone sharp, eyes unreadable.

“talk about what, exactly? the part where you screamed that you hated me in front of like… twenty people?”

the air between you thickened — dense with everything unsaid.

“i was just… jealous,” you admitted.

“i felt invisible. and i wanted to make you look at me.”

he shifted then — eyes finally meeting yours.

“but i always look at you,” he said quietly.

“you just don’t always notice it when your head is full of every reason you think i shouldn’t.”

you couldn’t even meet his eyes after he said that.

“so… do you hate me now?”

you swallowed against the tightness in your throat, your voice trembling with something between fear and relief. like you’d waited too long to have this conversation with him — and now that it was here, it barely felt real.

“of course not,” he said without hesitation — but his voice carried something heavier underneath.

“but hearing you say that shit… yeah, it did hurt.”

his voice dropped, like he couldn’t believe you’d even ask him that question.

you leaned a little closer, gaze fixed on him like you were waiting for a sign or something to prove he still felt it too.

“and knowing you,” he said, a half-smile tugging at his mouth,

“you’ve probably been wondering where i’ve been for the past three days — but chose not to ask on purpose.”

he let out a quiet chuckle before continuing,

“… don’t worry, i was at sendou’s… infact, he saw how miserable i looked and almost called you himself — until i stopped him & begged him not to.”

you tilted your head and blinked slowly, a silent ‘really?’ stitched into your stare. like you genuinely couldn’t believe that he disappeared for three days, and that’s what he was doing? sulking in someone else’s living room while missing you in silence?

“you’re literally so annoying, you know that?”

and just like that, everything finally felt at ease again.

your relationship with oliver had never been conventional. it’s always been messy, loud, sometimes a little too raw — but you’d always known how to live in it, how to love in it. and you embraced it anyway.

“yeah… i know,” he said, leaning his forehead gently against yours.

“…but please don’t ever say that you hate me again,” he whispered. “even if you’re mad… especially not in front of twenty people.”

you nodded, then let out a quiet laugh — soft, shaky, but real.

“then maybe don’t make me feel like i have to scream just to be seen… idiot.”

౨ৎ NAGI SEISHIRO ౨ৎ

the thing about hurting someone like nagi was that he never told you where it hurt, he just stopped reaching for you.

same as before, during all your previous outbursts — he’d go silent, then walked off without reacting. no raised voice. no screaming. just quiet acceptance that stung more than yelling ever could.

after an argument, he’d head straight to the bedroom and collapse into his blanket — like always.

but that night, he didn’t scroll on his phone. didn’t ask if you wanted to order food. and didn’t say anything when you got into bed beside him either.

he just laid there, back turned to you, face buried in his pillow.

and maybe that would’ve been fine… if it weren’t for the way he kept his hands to himself. didn’t reach for you like he always did. no sleepy mumbling. no quiet complaints. and not even a half-whispered “come here.”

just silence.

you didn’t realize how loud the silence could be — the absence of him & the way it echoed in everything he didn’t do.

now you’ve finally had enough of his silent treatment, so you broke first.

“sei…”

but he didn’t answer.

“i’m sorry,” you whispered. “i didn’t mean it earlier.”

the silence lingered — long enough to make your chest ache, long enough to wonder if he’d even heard whatever you just said.

and then finally… he sighed. rolled over slowly. eyes tired, but open now to look at you.

“then don’t say things like that,” he murmured, voice low. “hurts too much.”

you almost cried then.

but he reached out first — pulled you into his chest, lazy in the way he moved, but tight in the way he held your body. and his head rested on top of yours, like that’s where it belonged all along.

“’s okay now… just please don’t hate me.”

and you didn’t know if it was the way he said it, or the way he held you — but suddenly, the silence didn’t feel so loud anymore. it just felt like home.

౨ৎ ISAGI YOICHI ౨ৎ

you didn’t know how long you stood there after he left — the door closing softly behind him, like even it didn’t want to make a sound.

your eyes drifted around the room, tracing the path he took when he left — almost like if you followed it closely enough, you could walk it backwards. back to the moment before it all went wrong between the both of you.

──★

three hours passed.

then six.

and before you know it, it was already midnight.

you could’ve texted him, but you didn’t. infact, you didn’t know what you would have said.

“i didn’t mean it.”?

“come home.”?

“i’m sorry.”?

as much as you didn’t mean it when you said that you hated him, a small part of you still held onto the anger — because deep down, all you really wanted was to feel loved by him again. you missed the way he used to show up, without needing to be asked.

so you kept your hands busy — cleaned the dishes. folded the laundry. sat on the couch just hoping that the silence would quiet down before your thoughts got too loud.

and then, around 2AM, you heard the lock click.

you turned your head so fast your neck cracked, and there he was, hoodie pulled over his head, eyes tired, but still the boy you’d never quite stopped looking for.

“… yoichi—” your voice barely made it out before he raised a hand — quiet, but firm.

he didn’t speak, just went straight to the bedroom, dropped his bag, then came back to the living room where you were still frozen on the couch.

and that’s when he finally said it, voice quieter than you’ve ever heard it:

“so… you really meant it? that you hate me?”

you shook your head immediately. “no. no, i was frustrated— i was tired and— it wasn’t fair. i didn’t mean any of it.”

his gaze dropped.

“then why did it sound like you did?”

you got up without a word, walked towards him, and gently reached for his hand.

“… because i was hurting, not because i stopped loving you. and maybe i was selfish… but i just wanted your attention.”

“just wanted to feel like i still mattered to you.”

the silence stretched between the both of you. and just when you thought he might let go, he squeezed your hand back and said, “… okay.”

“… and i’m also sorry, for ever making you feel like you came second to practice or winning. you didn’t & you never did...”

afterwards, he leaned forward, slow and steady — until your forehead met his chest, like the rhythm of his breath was the only thing keeping you calm.

“just— remember this okay?? you’ll always matter to me… you always have. so let me make it up to you… wanna go on a date tomorrow?”

you almost cried right then — barely managing a soft,

“yes… i’d love to.”

© itoshiierae 2025 𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅ please do not modify or repost my content onto any other platforms.

[wordsofwhimsy]

┗⊱ 𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑬𝒙 𝑮𝒂𝒎𝒆𝒔 ⊰┛

Pairing: Mohawk!Mark Grayson x f!Reader

Warnings: None

Tags: Jealousy, post-break up warfare, really just comedic bullshit

Word Count: 2,786

Synopsis: An AU where the Invincible Wars didn’t go down the way we know it (I talked about this in a anon message I got earlier). Angstrom’s dimensional rift powers have been harnessed to allow for the variants to freely travel between universes, resulting in a friend group of Mohawk, Shiesty, Lensless, and You. Only, you & Mohawk (referred to in this fic simply as Mark for better reading) used to be a couple. Now you’re not. And being the petty little shits you both are, it’s become your mission to make the other as jealous as possible.

Inspiration: Y’all seen that episode of Friends? “The One With Joey's New Girlfriend”? Yeah, 100% inspired by that

a/n: nobody talk to me about the southern belle series – i tried for the better half of the day to work on the next chapter and it just aint coming to me right now. so i did this instead lmao

The conversation had derailed fast—typical for these three.

“I’m just saying,” Shiesty was arguing, waving his hands like a conspiracy theorist with bad posture, “if someone offered me a billion dollars to live in a house with 100 raccoons for a year, I’d do it. Easy.”

“Only if I get to train them,” Lensless said, picking apart a coaster with surgical focus. “Like little soldiers. Giv e ‘em knives.”

Mark sipped his drink, unbothered. “You’re both idiots.”

“I’d teach mine to steal identities,” Lensless continued, eyes unblinking. “Fake passports. Crypto scams. Maybe throw a coup.”

“Okay, what the fuck,” Mark muttered.

Shiesty cackled. “You see this, right? He’s unwell. Bro’s one bad day from mailing fingers to politicians.”

Lensless leaned in slowly. “You think I haven’t?”

Mark opened his mouth to retort—but the bar’s door opened, and he could smell you before he even heard you.

Laughter. Loud. Practically choreographed. You walked in, clinging to the arm of a guy who looked like he’d been carved from marble and then dropped on his head as a child.

He had the kind of jawline sculpted by Instagram filters and the emotional depth of a kiddie pool. His shirt was too tight, his smile too wide, and your laugh? It was weapon-grade.

You leaned into him, tossing your head back like Brad the Beefcake had just delivered a stand-up special. He hadn’t. He’d probably just pointed to a stool and called it a “sittin’ thing.”

Shiesty nearly spit out his drink. “Yo.”

Lensless didn’t blink, eyes wide and glowing with what looked like excitement. “Ohhh shit.”

Mark squinted. “What?”

Lensless didn’t even look away. “Not your ex using a human thirst trap to turn your soul into confetti.”

Mark stared, scoffing. “No she’s not.”

Shiesty leaned in. “Bro. That laugh had syllables.”

“She hasn’t laughed like that since before the breakup. She’s putting extra air in it,” added Lensless.

Shiesty continued, grin widening. “This is so obviously for you. You’re the target. She’s a sniper. And Meat Slab’s the bullet.”

Mark clenched his jaw. “I don’t care.”

Lensless turned to him slowly. “Your pupils dilated. Classic rage-lust. You’re about three seconds away from violence or poetry.”

Mark looked away sharply. “Shut up.”

And then you saw them.

Your eyes locked on Mark’s for a fraction of a second before you smile, dangerously so. You tugged Brad along like an accessory, walking straight up to the booth like this was all completely unplanned.

“Heyyy, guys!” you said brightly, voice syrupy-sweet. “Didn’t expect to see everyone here tonight.”

Shiesty bit his lip, trying not to laugh. “Wow. Look who it is.”

Lensless sat perfectly still, eyes like voids. “Hiii [y/n],” he said with the kind of calm that came right before the Joker set a hospital on fire.

Mark’s tongue clicked against the roof of his mouth. “You brought... someone.”

You grinned up at Brad. “This is Brad. Isn’t he so cute?”

Brad, bless his golden-retriever heart, beamed like he’d just been handed a trophy. “Yo, what’s up, dudes.”

Lensless leaned forward. “Do you know what a war crime is, Brad?”

Brad blinked. “Huh?”

Mark cleared his throat loudly. “So. This is what you’re into now?”

You blinked innocently. “What, muscles? Positivity? Unwavering support?”

Shiesty whispered, “This is incredible.”

Lensless added, “Her energy is diabolical. I respect it.”

Mark’s nostrils flared. “Must be a real deep connection you two got.”

“Oh, it is,” you said, clinging tighter to Brad’s arm. “We talk about everything. Like, the other day? We had this whole conversation about—what was it, babe?”

“If sharks have bones, dude.”

You smiled at Mark like you’d just been handed a win.

He stared.

Lensless took a sip of his drink. “This is art.”

You could feel it—Mark was already on edge. His jaw was tight, his hands clenched under the table, and that signature cocky tilt in his mouth was a little too strained to be real. Victory? Within reach.

So you did what any emotionally stable, totally mature person would do.

You ramped it up.

You leaned into Brad like he was the most fascinating man on Earth, giggling as he told some story about arm day and protein timing like it was high philosophy. He didn’t notice that no one was laughing with him—no one except you.

“—and then I said, bro, you can’t max out on incline if you’re skipping legs. That’s, like, disrespectful to the grind, y’know?”

You placed a hand on his bicep, practically swooning. “Oh my god, you’re so smart.”

Lensless slowly turned his head to look at Mark. “That's craaazy.”

“Fuckin' insane...” Mark grumbled.

Shiesty was practically vibrating with joy. Mark made the grave mistake of glancing at you again.

You were now feeding Brad a fry, with a little “open wide!” and everything.

Mark blinked. Once. Twice.

That was it.

You were halfway through feeding Brad another fry—dramatically, of course—when Mark suddenly sat up straighter, like a terrible idea had just hatched in real time.

“You know what?” he said, voice loud, casual, and so clearly forced you should’ve known better. “I’ve actually got somewhere to be.”

You blinked, half-laughing. “Since when do you make plans?”

Mark shrugged like the smug bastard he was. “Since I started seeing someone who actually respects my time.”

That got the table quiet.

Shiesty’s brow arched high. “Wait—hold up. You’re seeing someone?”

Lensless blinked. “Are you legally allowed to?”

Mark didn’t flinch. “Yup. Real grown woman. Hot. Smart. Mature.”

Your laugh was sharp. “What, like someone your mom’s age?”

He shrugged, sipping his drink with exaggerated calm. “Not quite. But she has real furniture. Leather-bound books. A decanter, even.”

Shiesty leaned in with undisguised eagerness. “Yo... are you dating a cougar?”

Lensless, eyes gleaming with intrigue, pipped in, “This is so much better than the sad Mark spiral I was expecting.”

You tried to play it cool—but your expression faltered. “Oh? What’s her name?”

Mark hesitated for half a second. Too long. “...Cassandra.”

Shiesty let out a low whistle. “Cassandra? Damn. That sounds rich.”

Mark nodded solemnly. “She’s very... cultured. Taught me about wine pairings. And... zoning permits.”

Lensless was weirdly impressed. “That’s the sexiest sentence you’ve ever said.”

You raised an eyebrow, but your heart was already racing. Mark? With a wine-knowing, real-furniture-owning, Cassandra?

“She sounds... older,” you said, trying to laugh. “What, she pick you up in a town car?”

Mark didn’t even blink. “She drives a vintage Jaguar.”

Shiesty slammed his palm on the table. “OH HE’S UP. HE’S WINNING.”

Lensless narrowed his eyes. “I feel like he's lying... yet I believe him.”

You chewed your lip, trying not to frown. “So what is this, like... a thing?”

Mark smirked. “Maybe. She likes my... edge. Says I remind her of her ex-husband in his ‘dangerous phase.’”

Lensless clapped. “I am so invested in this relationship.”

Shiesty laughed until he wheezed. “Bro I wanna meet her. Like tonight. Bring her here.”

Mark stood up smoothly, grabbing his jacket with just enough flair. “Sorry, boys. And lady,” he added with a cocky glance your way. “Tonight’s private. Grown folks only.”

He walked off with an air of confidence that definitely left your stinging.

The moment he was gone, the booth exploded.

Lensless leaned in like a gossip gremlin. “Yo. Is it just me or did he just level up?”

“He hit us with mature Mark energy. I didn’t think that existed,” Shiesty said.

You didn’t respond right away.

Because you were still sitting there, your brain reeling at the idea of Mark—with all his sarcasm, his recklessness, his “I’ve got issues but I look good doing it” energy—suddenly being wined and dined by some refined older woman named Cassandra. Someone with class. Elegance. Taste.

And worst of all... she sounded real.

—

The tiny bell over the door jingled as Mark stepped inside, immediately hit with the warm scent of lavender and mothballs. The shop looked like it hadn’t changed since the Reagan administration—dusty lace curtains, cracked linoleum floor, a half-knitted sweater draped over the counter next to a sewing machine that looked like it had survived several wars.

“Marky, sweetheart!” Cassandra called from the back, bustling in with pins clutched between her teeth and a thimble still on one finger. “I just finished reinforcing the midsection. You must’ve taken a real beating last week!”

Mark rubbed the back of his neck. “Nothing crazy... alien invasion. Usual shit."

“Well you didn’t die, so I’d say that’s a win,” she said brightly, waddling over to hand him a neatly folded navy and black suit.

He muttered a thanks, ready to leave, pride semi-intact, then—

JINGLE.

The door opened again.

Mark turned. Froze.

Lensless stood in the doorway, half-silhouetted by the outside light. Motionless. Eyes wide.

“...No,” Lensless said softly.

Mark’s grip tightened on the suit.

Lensless stepped inside slowly, blinking like he was hallucinating. “When you said Cassandra... when you said older woman, refined, leather-bound books, hot wine aunt energy—”

Cassandra popped up behind the counter, fluffing her knitting. “Hi, honey!”

Lensless howled.

Like, doubled over. Cackling. He actually staggered back into a rack of retired capes and slid down it like a man being exorcised.

“THIS is Cassandra?!” he gasped between bursts of laughter. “The sophisticated mystery woman?! The one with the Jaguar?!”

“She’s cool,” Mark growled, voice taut with humiliation. “And she’s helped me more than anyone in my life—”

“DID SHE FEED YOU PEPPERMINTS IN HER BUICK?!”

“YOU SHUT YOUR MOUTH.”

Lensless was crying now, full breakdown mode. “I thought she was gonna be in, like, stilettos. Maybe a dangerous past. A tragic accent.”

“She’s got arthritis and a cat named Marvin,” Cassandra added cheerfully, not understanding the situation in the slightest.

Mark slammed his suit down on the counter. “Lensless, if you breathe a word of this—”

“Or what? You’ll threaten me with Cassandra’s knitting needles?” Lensless squealed, clutching his stomach. “What are you gonna do, stitch me a strongly-worded letter?”

Mark stepped forward, radiating actual murder. “I will break your jaw, unhinge it, and feed you your own boot.”

Lensless was wheezing. “You gonna cry into one of her little embroidered doilies first?”

Mark’s eye twitched. He turned to Cassandra, who was just humming and bagging the suit in a plastic wrap like none of this was happening.

“I’m leaving,” he muttered. “I’m not doing this with him.”

“Don’t forget your mints, kiddo!” she called sweetly as he stormed past.

“I’M NOT TAKING THE MINTS.”

Lensless called after him, still cracking up, “Aww take your peppermints kiddo!”

The door slammed behind Mark like the punchline of a cosmic joke.

Lensless wiped his face, still chuckling as he stepped up to the counter. Cassandra held out his suit.

“You boys have so much fun,” she said, eyes twinkling.

He took it, still smirking. “Oh Cassandra. I’m gonna ruin his life.”

Back at the bar…

You were still sat at the booth, swirling your drink with a straw that was starting to look suspiciously chewed on, trying really hard not to think about the words "vintage Jaguar."

Brad—the human tank you were proudly draped over not ten minutes ago—was suddenly glancing at the clock on his phone with intense confusion.

“Yo babe, I gotta dip,” he said, standing up abruptly.

You blinked. “What? Why?”

He adjusted his watch (which may or may not have been fake). “Gym closes in thirty-five and I still gotta blend my creatine.”

You blinked again. “You… brought protein powder to the bar?”

He looked at you like you were the dumb one. “It’s in the car.”

Then—with no kiss, no goodbye—he fist-bumped the waitress and strolled out the door, calling “later dudes” over his shoulder like you weren’t even there.

You sat in stunned silence for a second.

Finally you turned slowly to Shiesty, who was just sipping his drink with a kind of giddy concern.

You started rifling through your purse. Lip gloss. Compact. A key you didn’t recognize.

“Ugh,” you muttered. “I think he’s stealing from me.”

Shiesty blinked. “Why would you—”

You pulled out your wallet, flung it open—and held it out dramatically. It was empty.

“BECAUSE HE’S STEALING FROM ME.”

Shiesty lost it.

“YO—WHAT?!”

You held up the limp little wallet like it was Exhibit A in a trial you were about to win with righteous fury. “I literally had a twenty in here before he ordered that third vodka cranberry! He said he had Apple Pay!”

Shiesty wheezed, leaning back in the booth. “Yooo, this man’s robbing you in real time.”

“I BROUGHT HIM HERE TO MAKE MY EX JEALOUS, NOT TO FUND HIS PRE-WORKOUT HABIT!”

Shiesty was crying, dabbing his eyes with a napkin. “Oh my god, he didn’t even pretend to be a good guy.”

You tossed your wallet back in your purse, seething. “I’m so mad and I can’t even say anything or it looks like I lost.”

Shiesty grinned. “You did lose. You lost a boyfriend and twenty bucks.”

You narrowed your eyes. “No. I just need to pivot.”

“Pivot into what? Dating someone who uses full sentences?”

“Exactly. I need someone hotter. Smarter. Not a financial risk.”

Shiesty leaned back, real cool-like, ran a hand through his hair, and gave you the worst smolder you’d ever seen.

“Well then, babe,” he said, dropping his voice into a low, dramatic purr, “look no further. I’ve got everything you need—” he gave a little finger-gun flourish, “—right here.”

You blinked at him. Held the stare for a beat. And then burst out laughing.

You reached out, pulled him into a warm, full-bodied hug like he’d just delivered the joke of the century. “God, you’re stupid,” you giggled into his shoulder. “Thanks. I needed that.”

He blinked. “Wait—”

You pulled back, already slinging your bag over your shoulder.

“I gotta go,” you sighed, digging around for your keys. “My dog’s been alone all day, she’s probably emotionally damaged by now.”

Shiesty stood there, hands still half-raised from the hug.

“…You have a dog?”

You gave him a cheery wave. “Bye, love you!”

The door swung shut behind you with a jingle.

Shiesty just stood there, staring at your empty seat. “…I was being serious.” He picked up your abandoned straw wrapper. Stared at it. Sighed. “Man. I got friend-hugged mid-rizz.”

Not 10 minutes later the door swung open again, bell jingling overhead.

Mark walked in, doing his best impression of someone not spiraling.

Strip of hair slightly windswept. Jacket crooked. Wrinkles in his shirt that definitely weren’t there before.

He spotted Shiesty alone in the booth.

“…Where’d everyone go?” Mark asked, trying to sound casual.

Shiesty didn’t look up from his drink. “Brad robbed her.”

Mark blinked. “I—what?”

Shiesty finally looked up. “The himbo? Turns out he’s not just brainless—he’s a petty thief too.”

Mark leaned back, smug satisfaction creeping in. “Wow. Sad. Tragic. Who could’ve guessed that dipshit was a bad investment?”

Shiesty finally looked at him. “I know right? I even tried to offer her an upgrade.”

Mark blinked. “...What?”

Shiesty shrugged, real casual. “Y’know. Threw my hat in the ring. Told her I had everything she needed. Right here.” He gestured to himself.

Mark stared.

A vein in his temple twitched.

“Are you—are you serious right now?” he snapped. “You hit on her?”

“Relax,” Shiesty drawled, unbothered. “It wasn’t like I proposed. I just—y’know—presented the option.”

“You presented the option?” Mark repeated, incredulous. “She’s not ordering cable packages—”

“Bro—chill.”

“Chill? I swear I will rip your spine—”

Shiesty held up a hand. “Bro, calm down. She laughed. Like, hard. Pulled me into a hug and hit me with ‘thanks! needed that.’ Like the very idea of me was a damn joke to her.”

Mark stopped. Paused. Shoulders visibly relaxed. “Oh,” he breathed, blinking slowly. “She laughed, huh?”

Shiesty nodded. “Immediate friend-zone. Real efficient.”

Mark sat back, smugness returning like a tide. “Yeah. Well. Of course she did.”

Shiesty sipped again. “She called me stupid.”

Mark’s smirk widened. “She’s always had good judgment.” There was a beat of silence before Shiesty started up again.

“…But like, is it just me,” he said, slowly tilting his head, “or did her ass go dumb in those jeans?”

Mark didn’t even hesitate. Smirked. “Her ass always goes retarded."

They clinked their glasses in solemn agreement.

“Truly criminal,” Shiesty muttered.

Mark shook his head. “It’s a blessing and a curse.”

[daily-usopp-doodles]

Hi again! Can I please request mermaid ‘Sopp? Thank you and thanks for the great daily Usopps!!! <3

Daily usopp doodles - day 31

[Image ID in alt text]

Happy one month of Usopp!!!!!!!

I have a few things to say here so I’m putting it under the cut for those who are more interested in the art!

First off, thank you all so much for the support I’ve been getting so far! Any tags and comments y’all leave always make me smile :-]

Next, I’m sorry that this mer design is a little basic! Truly I was running out of time today so it was a touch rushed.

I do have a mermaid one piece au, but it doesn’t necessarily involve usopp as a merman which is why I went for this instead. I may make more thought out designs for the strawhats as mermaids if y’all would like that

Also happy mermay!

Alright, NOW! First I just wanna encourage y’all to send asks because I really do love them and they help me make y’all a unique usopp daily.

They can be simple (like a certain outfit / arc, or usopp with another character) or more complex (usopp with several characters, an usopp design for an AU, or even a comic idea!)

I’d also just love to see usopp content! Art you’ve drawn that you’d like me to feature as the daily sopp, for instance!

Also headcannons, memes, or even fic recommendations!

Basically what I’m saying is: I don’t bite! I’d love to interact with any of you more here or on my main! So always feel free to send an ask or a comment on either account

And next, id also love to know if theres any particular kinds of sopps you’d be more interested in? I can’t make any promises of course but im curious what y’all would like to see.

(Examples: more traditional art, more meme redraws / funny posts, canon outfits, original outfits)

Anyways, I think that’s all I have to say. Thanks again so much and happy 31 days of usopping!!!!!

[ambie720]

Ok. I like never ever post things on my blog that aren’t reblogs or gif sets, but I am kind of beside myself right now.

911 people…. Can we please explain to me why Eddie Diaz just seems to be getting more and more abusive over time? I started watching this show about a year ago- binged watched through it, and I’ve loved every second of it. I started out really loving the Buck and Eddie dynamic. Gobbled up the fanfiction, got swept away in the giddiness of a new ship. They seemed like a match made in heaven.

With every single episode I just keep noticing how much Buck gives VS what little he gets back. His friendship with Eddie has always felt very skewed into the latter’s favor. And yeah, everyone can have different ways of showing friendship and love… but This is the 3rd maybe 4th time Eddie has voiced that Buck makes everything about himself. And each time it’s a pointed attack to make Buck feel like shit. Buck opens up? It’s all about himself. Buck internalizes it? God, he’s being selfish. A conversation that starts out about Eddie telling EVERYONE BUT BUCK about going back to Texas, and acting like Buck is too fragile to have a conversation about his supposed best friend’s plans turns into blaming Buck for being sad about Bobby. Like he’s acting like he’s the only one sad and in pain? And then Eddie… makes it about himself? That his pain is somehow worse because he wasn’t physically there. That Chris’ loss of was more important than Buck’s loss? I know that Bobby had a close relationship with everyone in the 118. All of those relationships were different but all meaningful. Everyone grieves differently. But being a parent and not being present when Bobby died does NOT mean that Eddie has the right to toss it in Buck’s face that he’s grieving or that somehow Eddie’s pain takes precedence over Buck’s. The guy hasn’t even done anything to make it about himself. It just seems like an easy way to take the focus off Eddie not keeping Buck in the loop about his life. Which, ok fair, it’s not like Buck is entitled to know, but as his best friend, shouldn’t Eddie realize how that looks and how Buck would take it? And then to get physical about it? And disappear with a note that he’s going to the airport? Eddie isn’t stupid, he knew how that looked. And it’s almost like he was tying to dig the knife in deeper. And bringing Chris and Peppa there to try and smooth things over without an actual apology? Again?

I just am at a loss. Time and time again I just see Buck busting his ass to help Eddie and Chris. Bending over backwards to fix the shit that Eddie messes up… and it’s Buck who is the screw up? He didn’t get Eddie childcare, or talk to Chris about girls and dating, or comfort him about Ana and people leaving, or about A FREAKING DOPPLEGANGER of his mom? Try to convince him to stay? He didn’t rush over to help Eddie when his ptsd hit or help him patch up his walls, or cook dinner for his family for the umpteenth time? Of help Eddie with his move to Texas? Even if he unintentionally sabotaged, he still fixed things. He apologized.

I’m not going to hide the fact that Buck is my favorite character overall. You hurt my boy, I’m gonna get pissed. I know that Buck has flaws. I know he’s got abandonment issues and he can tend to get in his head and make things catastrophically worse. But I really, GENUINELY, have never seen him be a selfish person who makes things all about himself. He has feelings. He feels things deeply. He loves deeply. And this show- I swear to god… even with events that are actually ABOUT Buck and Buck alone- he gets called selfish.

Just- as a relatively new watcher, I’m having a hard time seeing what Eddie has done for Buck. How he’s shown up for him. All his transgressions are swept away. And he never apologizes that I’ve seen. Please can y’all just help me out here? Why are we shipping these guys together when it’s proven time and time again how one sided the effort and care is?

This is just me airing out my personal feelings, so if you’re gonna attack my opinion, please scroll past. I’m not in the fandom, I’m just an observer feeling more and more unsettled.

[mercurysmaelstrom]

Swan Song

pairing: Remmick x POC Reader

summary: As a vampire out in the present-day west, you take space on the stage of a local bar, playing the keys for a griot who’s been facilitating access to your people; however, on the night of your final performance, you're approached by a man who wants exactly what you're leaving behind.

contains: emphasis on tension, blood drinking, (blood kink if you squint), smoking, sexual themes, no use of y/n, modern day au.

word count: 3k

notes: i added some details that might not be compliant with Coogler’s ideas (or maybe they do align and i just missed some things), but in this fic, i’m implying that once a griot is turned into a vampire, they can’t summon their ancestors since i’m running on the theory that remmick was a seanchaí back in his day, but he lost his ability to conjure spirits after he was turned. walk with me lmao.

Music flowed alongside the barren streets that night, each sound swimming out of each open club.

But just a little deeper within the small town hid another bar, sitting cunningly behind the brick walls of vacant stores: a former prohibition-era speakeasy that still carried that title on its front window. And what bubbled from inside attracted the same old townsfolk who knew this place still existed.

On stage, you could never fight the wrinkle on your nose, nor could you fight the nodding of your head when your fingers caressed the keys, playing for the one woman in town who could hypnotize you with just her voice alone. And every weekend you let it wash over you.

Hell, you bathed in it. 

You drank in her voice. You drank in the kick drum that accompanied the snare’s metal rim and the closed hi-hat that bridged each gap between the beat, fusing together like a jigsaw puzzle—the soothing, yet vivacious rhythm merging with the lifeless beat in your chest. 

And you drank in the hands of the guitarist and bassist on each side of you, their fingers sliding against the neck of their guitars; their fingers strumming and plucking at the strings that seemed to grapple your limbs, seizing you on the platform. 

Not that you were eager to leave. 

The music was why you came here, and the band were why you stayed.

But even so, you knew you had to go. 

For fifteen years you performed at this bar, and though no one questioned why you began to look like the youngest in a band full of forty-something-year-olds who knew you to be the oldest, you realized that insisting you had a really good sunscreen wasn’t going to work anymore. 

Regardless of all this, you kept putting it off, telling yourself, “Just a couple more weeks,” which turned into a couple more months, and eventually another year.

This had to be your last night. 

“Alright, y’all,” huffed your lead singer, who despite being breathless, maintained her honey-smooth voice. With a handkerchief, she elegantly wiped the sweat glistening on her forehead, glancing back at all the musicians behind her. “This is gonna be our,” she inhaled, “last song of the night.”

Last song of the night.

When the music slowly reached its end, you basked in the atmosphere one last time, scanning the crowd sitting ahead of you, swaying their heads and tapping their feet against the concrete floor or their fingers against their respective tables.

Then you observed the other crowd—intangible, yet wholly present, engaging in an incorporeal, cultural anachronism that somehow seemed to fit almost perfectly in this time and space. 

No. 

They transcended it.

Nevertheless, they vanished, as they always did. But this time around, you didn’t know when you were going to see them again. 

Gloomily, your fingers abandoned the keyboard and you ended up outside the bar attempting to light the cig tucked between your lips, the purple neon light above flashing on the back of your head as you leaned on the short, black metal gate wrapping around the front of the small building.

“Fuck,” you muttered, the lighter failing to do its only job. 

From inside, you could still hear the guitarist playing for a few extra minutes. Most of the time you’d stay back with him, rousing remnants of the melodious aroma left by the night’s session before you officially packed up. 

Tonight you couldn’t do it…because if you did, you knew you wouldn’t be able to bring yourself to leave.

“Allow me,” came a voice with an arm stretched out, a brass lighter in hand.

Belonging to the sudden voice, you saw, was a man—his dark hair damp from the summer heat. Clad on his body was a dark plaid button-up that looked just a little too big on his frame, and attached to his back was a guitar, its strap diagonal across his chest.

Naturally, you leaned in, his lighter finding its way just below your mouth and his other hand cupping over the flame even though the air stirred quietly. But the second he took another step closer, that very air curdled into something else; into something you hadn’t felt since the night you were infected.

You could feel his gaze latch onto you as he lit the cigarette between your lips, the tip glowing. Quickly, you glanced at him before you pulled apart, turning away from the man as you blew the smoke out from your nostrils. 

In that time, neither of you failed to recognize the flicker of something vaguely familiar behind your eyes.

“Thanks,” you uttered, leaning back against the fence. Cordially, you held out the cig in the brunette’s direction. Silently, he declined, putting up his palm before removing the guitar from his body and placing it on the concrete column beside him. 

He was an unwelcome presence, and perhaps he knew that. 

To your detriment, you didn’t say anything. 

“So, uh,” he scratched his stubbled cheek, clocking your keyboard in its carrying bag beside you, upright against the gate, “you the one on the keys, huh?”

“I was.” You cocked your head towards the bar. “This your first time comin’ to see the show?”

“I stroll around town every once and a while. S’pose I never got the chance to come in. Y’all play real nice though.” The man leaned against the gate and peered at the large window a few feet behind the barrier. “And whoever’s singin’...yeah, she’s got a voice on her, don’t she?”

You took another drag and blew out the side of your mouth, nodding fervently. 

“Everyone calls her Whiskey,” you replied, also turning back, catching the subject of your conversation talking to folks inside who were just as mesmerized as the both of you. “Never heard anyone like her.”

Facing away from the window, you took a gander at the man instead, catching something else in his eye—a glint of hunger followed by an infernal glow that matched the cherry of your cigarette…only darker.

“Your accent,” you tried to change the subject. “You’re not from here, are you?”

He fixed his gaze back on you. “North Carolina.” 

You hummed. “You’re far from home.”

“Like ya wouldn’t believe,” he laughed vacuously, tilting his head towards your friend. “Y’know, I’ve been meaning to meet her for some time now. Heard her so much, I gotta know what she’s like.”

You sighed. “Well, you go on and meet her then.”

He lifted an inquisitorial finger on his lower lip. “Maybe you could introduce me to her?” 

You pointed your thumb back. “I was about to leave after this actually—”

“I’m sure you could invite me in real quick.” He inched closer to you. “I’d hate to be impolite.”

You licked your lips. “Right.” 

Index finger and thumb softly pinching your cigarette, you took one last drag before dropping it to the ground and crushing it with your shoe. What a waste, you thought. 

Only briefly you peered through the window, assuring everyone inside was well-distracted by each other before grabbing the stranger’s throat, shoving him away from witnessing eyes and into the tunnel under a bridge nearby, until his back slammed into the brick wall, both of your bodies engulfed in warm darkness.

Although he appeared to be surprised, a grin slowly formed on his lips, teeth as sharp as yours—maybe even sharper—revealing themselves under the partial fluorescence of the violet neon sign.

He snickered. “Was wonderin’ when you’d break.”

You edged closer to his face. “What do you want?”

“You know what I want.” His hand steadily made its way to your wrist, wrapping his fingers around it. “That's why you’re here all the time, right? Just wanna have what you’re havin’. No need to be greedy.”

Your brows furrowed. “She can’t summon shit if she’s dead. I’d know.”

“Then she won’t have to be.” He shook his head, slightly inclining his face to yours. “You could let me in. And I could play witch’all.”

“I’m not in the band anymore.”

“All the more reason for me to join,” he insisted, his grip on your wrist tightening as he bent your arm away from him. “I could fill in.” 

Your mind couldn’t process the speed he moved in. 

One minute you had him on the ropes, or so you thought, and the next your own back was against the opposite wall of the tunnel with his hand on your throat this time, caging you with his body.

“Y’know, I’ve been watchin’ ya for a while now,” he rasped, his hand so high up your neck, straining your head to bend back. “Feastin’ on rats, livin’ a life of hunger and desperation—I mean, it’s sad really.”

You made an effort to push against him, but he was far stronger than you. Perhaps even older, you feared.

“I’m not the one who’s desperate,” you grunted.

His other hand firmly planted on your chest, pressing you even further against the hard surface behind you. “But you’re hungry, ain’tcha?”

He jutted his chin to the bar across from the tunnel, every warm being inside the bar broiling in the humid, cramped room. 

The vampire took a big whiff. “Ya gotta be starvin’.”

Feebly, you turned away from the sight of the very people you congregated with most nights, indeed famished. 

He leaned his slick forehead onto your temple, his thumb softly caressing your jaw, his nail gently scraping against your skin. “Ya can’t keep torturin’ yourself.”

In this moment you realized it was easier to resist listening to your stomach when there was no one there to tell you otherwise.

“How’d you even find this place?” You heaved, attempting to focus on the lamp post on the other side of the tunnel, trying to ignore the sapid smell of bodies oozing out across from you.

“A musician likes a bit of inspiration from time to time,” answered the stranger. “But when a voice like that reaches a man’s ears…ya can’t ignore it.”

You felt the light huff of air from his nose. 

“You certainly didn’t,” he carried on, turning your head back towards him. “I mean, look atcha—ya still here.”

You scowled. “What, you’ve been watching me this whole time?”

“Now don’t get it twisted. I came here for the music. For her. Findin’ my own kind though, that was a plus.”

My own kind. 

“I’m nothin’ like you,” you told him.

The inner corners of his brows crinkled and the sides of his mouth gently raised. “Oh yeah? What’s this then?”

He removed the hand he had on your chest and used his thumb to roughly wipe off the thick saliva you hadn’t realized was trickling from your mouth.

He scrutinized the liquid on his thumb, chuckling. “Nothin’ like me, huh?” 

Your eyes glided to the curved ceiling of the tunnel, unable to let yourself witness the very instincts you’d been muffling away for years.

The man licked your saliva off his tongue before laying a hand on the wall beside your ear. “I’m here for the same reason as you are—I just wanna see my people again.” The man’s grip on your neck began to loosen, though he didn’t let go. “We’re the same, you and I.”

Your gaze reluctantly dropped onto him. 

Through the shadows you could see his pupils uncannily dilate, his scarlet irises limited to a glint. And in the sympathetic bleakness of his stare, much too dark to find a reflection of anything, you still managed to see yourself buried somewhere in there, no matter how much you dared to deny it.

“Tell ya what,” the man began.

Gently, he released his grip on your neck, instead laying his palms on your shoulders, dusting off nothing in particular, then adjusting the neckline of your shirt.

You didn’t move.

“I’ll leave this place,” he told you, his fingers lingering around your collarbone. “Hell, I’ll leave your beloved Whiskey alone.”

Finally his touch left your body, which should have been a relief, until his claw-like nail slit against his wrist, his eyes fixated on you while his own blood tantalizingly leaked from the self-inflicted wound. And although the scent of crimson fluid from a living being laid incomparable to the leftovers of the undead, the years you spent chasing after rodents made the sight of his wrist look like a home cooked meal.

“If you join me,” he bargained, his other hand now placed on the back of your neck. “We could travel together. 

Even with the smallest movements of his wrist, the vampire stood entertained by your mouth, in a restrained manner, chasing its direction.

He squeezed his hand into a fist, sending more blood out of his laceration. “Clearly, you’re all packed up and ready to go. We can...find someone else to help us. Help me—” he paused for a moment—“and yourself find our people. Find a band to play with. It’ll be fun.”

The longer you watched his wrist, the hazier your mind grew, and everything that wasn’t pouring out of his skin blurred in your field of vision. 

The vampire snaked his hand away from your neck and back up to your mouth, taking a hold of your chin to wipe more of the drool that pooled over your bottom lip. “What d’ya say, hm?”

Eventually, his voice fizzled away once your teeth rushed after his wrist, biting into his flesh and sucking what tasted like stale nectar, but nectar nonetheless. And once his blood touched your tongue, the consequential guilt you’d feel after chasing the people inside the bar had faded into the back of your mind; the thrill of their blood rushing vigorously into your mouth, diverting the very conscience you allowed to guide you for decades.

“That’s it,” cooed the stranger, cupping the back of your head while your moans stifled against his skin, both of your hands clutching his forearm. “That’s it.”

He knew whatever he said to you—it didn’t need to be true—would slip past you once you’d eaten. Just one drop of sanguine delight was enough to pull you away from yourself, overcome by a spell that was produced from your own numinous hunger. It didn’t matter if he told you Whiskey was safe. Your newly returning thirst, he thought to himself, would neglect whatever concerns you had over her. 

Finally you released your canines from his wrist, tilting your mouth to the ceiling, deeply inhaling what resembled fresher and colder oxygen into your lungs, and accessing a sudden burst of energy surging through your veins.

He took a step closer, glancing at your red lips, tapping your cheek. “There’s more food inside. Nice and ripe for the takin’.”

You couldn’t remember much else from that night. Frankly, you didn’t want to. 

You lost.

You blocked out the screams. You blocked out the feedback from your old friend’s electric guitar; his pleads as you ravenously approached him. You blocked out the regrettable invitation you had drunkenly offered the vampire whose name was Remmick. And even after the slaughter, you followed the wicked man, too guilty to believe you deserved to do anything else.

He was right, you concluded. You were the same.

But the one thing you could remember—the only thing you permitted yourself to remember—demanded yourself to remember was the beastly “Run” rumbling from the depths of your blood-coated throat in front of a frightened Whiskey whose heels scuffed against the floor as she slid back toward the broken steps of the stage, viewing the man you had spoken to several times before laying on the floor below you—a river of red streaming from his shredded neck.

Whiskey did run. You didn’t know if she survived or not; if Remmick caught up to her, or if any of the people you turned in the bar found her. You only hoped she made it out. And if she did, maybe, just maybe, you hadn't completely lost.

That same night, Remmick found you crouched over another victim, the bottom half of your face dripping; your neck stained with red, alongside your clothes; the warm light of the bar gleaming against your cold, gray eyes. The elder vampire kneeled beside you, and he took either side of your cheeks, surveying your current state, pleased. 

Was he pleased with you or himself? It didn’t matter.

Everyone around the two of you laid still, not yet awakened by the burden you and Remmick had thrust upon them. 

And inebriated by the woman you just drank from, you didn’t pull away from him. Despite the shame that quietly loitered beneath your stomach, there was something liberating about seeing a monster in front of you that wasn’t in a mirror or every piece of glass that you passed.

“We gon’ have a lotta fun together,” he whispered, staring at a bullet of blood running down your chin before his lips met your skin, sucking teasingly at the red honey, thirstily searing a trail from your jaw to your neck, gluttonous for your prey’s remainders.

Innately, you tilted your head, opening up space for him with a sigh, placing your hands on his arms while his mouth traced upwards, returning to your chin, then pausing when he hovered over your mouth. A hand of his landed on the nape of your neck while he slid his tongue along his serrated teeth, waiting. 

He didn’t have to wait for long. 

You mimicked the man, indulging in his scraps with a long lick on his moist skin gliding from the bottom to the top of his neck, eagerly skipping his chin in order to capture his lips instead, lost in a frenzy you hadn’t experienced in a long time. 

Remmick moaned against you pleasantly as you forced your tongue into his mouth, tasting him and every unconscious person around you. You nearly pushed your body against his, close to straddling the man who diminished everything you worked for, until you pulled away, panting.

The vampire hummed curiously, wiping the blood from your cheek with his thumb.

With effort, you ventured to drag yourself down from your high by looking at everybody around you. But an obscure ache within you prevented you from separating from your catalyst just yet, because regrettably, you wanted more. And when he understood that, he took advantage of it. 

He encouraged you to seek for more—thirst for more.

And you did. But never without the penance of guilt that came with the sin you cyclically repented against.

[pazzi5351]

PART 3

Paige x Azzi Highschool au

Basketball Paige x Dance team Azzi

Word count: 800

AN: tbh I’m having fun writing this so far!!! Thank you guys for liking it🥰 I’m so grateful for y’all taking the time to read!! Send live reacts if you can! Here’s pt 3! Happy reading🥳

————————————————————————————

Azzi was sitting at her desk studying when her phone buzzed with an Instagram notification from, Paige?

Azzi knew who Paige was, but who, in all of Minnesota, didn’t. She was practically royalty at Hopkins. Basketball star, D1 commit, flashy on the court, majority of the time putting the athlete before the student. Paige was everything at Hopkins, and Azzi couldn’t fathom how Paige, The Paige Bueckers, was messaging her.

Paige: Hey Azzi. Captain to captain, I wanted to say that I hope this month goes by smoothly with our teams practicing almost together 🙂

It wasn’t like Azzi had a crush on Paige, she barely even knew her. But something about Paige knowing who Azzi was made her slightly breathless. Nonetheless, she replied, slowly.

Azzi: What’s up! I totally agree about the next month going well! My team and I are super happy we can use the space, so thanks!☺️

Pushing send, and slightly freaking out, Azzi facetimed Caroline, who picked up on the third ring. Caroline, who was in a similar position to Azzi, at her own desk, laughed when she really looked at Azzi. “Why do you look so, like, flustered?”

Azzi, now really looking at herself in the camera, noticed how her cheeks were slightly tinged with pink. “Carol! Ok so, what if I told you Paige, like basketball Paige just DM’d me.”

Caroline looked back up at her phone and raised her eyebrows. “Shit. She knows the dance team is a real thing! And she knows you! Our very own captain!”

Azzi buried her face in her hands, muffling a laugh. “Carooool! Stop, you’re making it worse. It’s not even like that. She was being… polite. Like, captain to captain.”

Caroline grinned, unconvinced. “Captain to captain, my ass. She didn’t DM Coach Mitchell. She messaged you. And you’re blushing.”

Azzi rolled her eyes but couldn’t help the small smile tugging at her lips. “Whatever. It’s probably nothing. She’s probably just trying to keep things chill.”

Caroline nodded slowly, eyes gleaming. “Mhm. Sure. Let me know when ‘nothing’ turns into a hallway smile or a ‘hey’ in the cafeteria.”

By Wednesday, Azzi had been able to talk herself out of the, Caroline proclaimed, “Paige situation”. Well, for the most part. That is until practice after school. The first practice in the gym. With the basketball team. With Paige.

The dance team was going over their formations, trying to adjust to the new space while, the basketball team started to filter into the gym for their warmups.

Azzi was mid turn when a voice called out, “that was clean Miss. Captain.”

She almost stumbled.

Turning around, she caught sight of Paige leaning against the bleachers, lacing up her shoes, watching her with a crooked smile on her face. Her practice jersey was loosely hanging on her neck, and her hair was pulled back into a messy bun like she’d just rolled out of bed-but somehow, to Azzi, she looked perfect.

“Thanks,” Azzi said, a little breathless (she couldn’t decide if it was from the turns or… other). “You’re early. Y’all’s practice doesn’t start until 4:30.”

Paige shrugged. “Jus’ wanted to see if the rumors were true.”

Azzi blinked. “Rumors?”

“Yeah, you know, if the dance team was actually good.” Paige’s grin widened, teasing. “And, maybe that the captain had some of the best moves.”

Azzi tried, as hard as she could, not to smile, but the blush creeping up her face would’ve given her away anyway. “I see. That's why you DM’d me?”

Paige nodded. “Yeah. Somethin’ like that.” Then after a beat, “Or, I just needed a reason to talk to you.”

Azzi blinked again, not too sure what to make of their conversation. “Talk to me? Why? You don’t even know me.”

Paige looked up at the ceiling, then back at Azzi giving her a once over. Her tone a little more serious now. “Because, you’re kind of like a mystery. And I like figuring things out.”

Azzi stared at Paige. Not having an answer for her because she swore she could see her heart beating against her chest.

Paige smirked, “I’ll see you around, captain.” jogging off to join her team.

Azzi stood completely still in same spot Paige left her. Absolutely frozen.

Caroline was going to lose her mind.

————————————————————————————

AN: Woah you guys! I’m so so so thankful for all your support and likes for my story❤️‍🔥 I’m like kinda freaking out cs a few of the writers I read from noticed my work and that’s so crazy to me! But as always thanks for reading AND please send me some ideas you wanna see in this! I think (if I did my settings correctly) my inbox is open!!

[sturnixblogger]

who to choose?

chapters: 1 , 2 , 3

!WARNING! : smut, pussy eating ,( p in v ), fingering , stroking dick , unprotected sex ( do NOT )

notes: i might make this a chapter story im not sure☺️ Not proof read

︶֪︶︶֪︶︶︶֪︶︶֪︶︶ིྀ︶︶֪︶︶︶֪︶︶֪︶︶֪︶֪︶︶֪︶︶︶֪︶︶֪︶

You are visiting the triplets in LA because you moved to Los Vegas for a feel around to see where you want to start off your journey with social media. Even though Los Angeles and Los Vegas aren’t that far it is still a long drive and might as well stay for a couple days. You finally arrive after a 4 hour drive, You take ur suit case up the stairs tripping up the stairs .Nick notices you and comes outside to help you up, “ Girl why did u bring a suit case your only staying a few days “ Nick chuckles . You sigh while looking at your leg because ur bleeding from scrapping ur leg against the cement . “ just invade i stay longer and also nick, i’m a girl what do you expect “ Y’all walk inside and Nick yells across the house “ CHRIS , MATT, Y/N is here” Nick sets ur suitcase to the side asking if u needed anything , you say no as u see Chris turning from the corner from coming up the stairs . “ Hey y/n” Chris says as he goes in for a hug . You smile as you reach in for a hug.

Chris backs up as his eyes scan ur body as ur wearing a shirt black skirt with a cropped tank top and he notices the deep scrape on your leg. “

Holy shit what happened to your leg , it’s bleeding “ he squats looking at it . “ I tripped coming up the stairs “ you chuckle. You notice chris’s eyes going up as he try’s to look at your face but he accidentally looks at your cunt. He sprints up scratching his neck while looking away . You see Matt leave the bathroom while walking over to you. “ Hey y/n “ he says with a smile .

A couple hours later

︶֪︶︶֪︶︶︶֪︶︶֪︶︶ིྀ︶︶֪︶︶︶֪︶︶֪︶︶֪︶֪︶︶֪︶︶

Everyone is sitting in the living room watching the twilight movies . You sit up and say “ Guys i have to use the bathroom real quick can u pause the movie “ you get up and Chris stares at you as u pull the blankets off of you revealing the booty shorts that had one of ur ass cheeks out and a tank top on .You pull down ur shorts and u look back to see Chris staring at you and he quickly looks away . You chuckle as u go down the hallway to the bathroom next to Matt’s room . You forget you have the cut and pull down ur shorts rough making it glide hard against ur cut making u wince. Chris hears it and goes to the bathroom door. “ Hey it’s chris, you okay i heard you “ he says choking up on his words . “ Yeah im fine , i forgot i had a cut and put too much pressure on accident “ you say chuckling embarrassingly. You hear foot steps descending away from the door. When u go back into the living room you sit down awkwardly and say “ You can start the movie again” Nick nods and plays the movie and you glance over and see Chris staring at you you quickly turn ur head back to the screen that’s playing the movie .

You end up falling asleep during the movie and Chris taps on your shoulder asking if u want to sleep in his bed because it’s more comfortable . You’re still half asleep so you just nod as he picks you up . Next thing u know you in his bed and he begins to leave and you whimper. “ you can stay “ you say while ur voice cracks from the dryness of your throat . Chris lays down next to you stroking your hair you feel him press against you and you feel his bulge through his pajama pants . You move your hips which makes his dick twitch in the movement against his dick. You continue to do that until you hear a soft moan in your ear . He wraps his arms around your waist and rubs the lower part of ur stomach . You accidentally let a little whine escape your lips and he says “ Y/n, are you awake” you turn around and you smash ur lips onto his . He groans pulling you closer to him as he swallows ur moans. Your lips fall apart and he starts rubbing your cunt from outside of you panties “ your panties are soaked , is that all for me baby” you moan as ur throbbing clit rubs against his fingers . He takes off your panties as he slides down under the covers . You feel his hand graze the inside of ur thigh which makes u jerk . His tongue lightly and slowly moving around your folds. You gasp and you feel his hit breath and his giggle vibrating against you. He takes his finger gently putting it near ur entrance. “ woah your so wet, all for me ?” you groan lightly the feeling of his touch as you rock ur hips. Chris takes one finger and thrusts it into your pussy. He starts licking your clit which makes your legs shake from pleasure .

“ Oh Chris- yesss,fuck” you loan while your hands tangle into his hair. He hums making a vibration against your clit making you jolt in pleasure. He puts another finger in your cunt and thrusts flow and deep . You feel a knot in your stomach. “ Chris i’m - i’m about to - i’m about the cum, fuuuuckk” Next thing u know a pool of heat waves about if you and the tension in your tummy releases. “good girl, cumin all over my fingers “ he goes up and lays next to you. You reach over grabbing his bulge , he twitches and looks at you while he rubs your inner thigh. You pull his pants and boxers down as his dick springs out slapping his lower tummy. “ Woah you’re so big” you mumble . He chuckles at your words as throws his head back. You start pumping his dick . Soon u get on your knees flipping your hair back and you swirl your tongue on his swollen tip. He groans and holds ur head as you tease him. You slowly take him in your mouth and boo ur head up and down . “ Fuuuuck- take this big cock baby, take it” he groans . you go faster and u take him in fully, his cock past your uvula . “ i’m going to cum baby “ he says breathlessly. You stop at his words looking up at him with your puppy eyes. “ why you stop baby” you groans at the loss of your touch. “ I want you to cum inside my pussy “ you say giggling. You hop on top of him as you hover over his cock, you slide down taking him all in . “ fuuck chris - your so big” you start bouncing up in down and screams “i’m cumin i’m cumin” he releases inside of you as you feel his warm liquid enter your cunt . You moan at the feeling and your walls clench around his dick . You cum on his dick right after him. You fall beside him as you place your head in the crook of his neck drifting off to sleep.

The next morning you hear the door open. It’s Matt. You and chris still naked covers halfway off from sweating . “ What . The. Fuck” Matt exclaims . Your heart drops and u freeze. Chris wakes up seeing Matt standing there in absolute agony and shock. “ You FUCKED her chris, You FUCKED y/n” Matt says while his throat cracks .

︶֪︶︶֪︶︶︶֪︶︶֪︶︶ིྀ︶︶֪︶︶︶֪︶︶֪︶︶֪︶︶֪︶︶︶֪︶︶֪︶

Part 2??👀

[girlacticrailroad]

friendly rivalry deep dive part 14

Episode 6 y’all let’s goooooo.

Jae-yi won’t reveal her secrets to Seul-gi yet this episode, but that’s okay because the first scene solves one mystery for us. We see Jae-yi sneak into her father’s office, unlock his desk, and take out a file with her sister’s name on it. In the file, she finds information about Seul-gi’s dad, stepmom, and Seul-gi herself.

So we now know that: (1) Jae-yi is looking for information about her sister, (2) Woo Do-hyeok is connected to Je-na in some way, and (3) Jae-yi started getting close to Seul-gi due to Do-hyeok’s connection with her sister. Seul-gi’s dad (rip) can no longer reveal anything, but maybe his daughter can.

Why does Jae-yi change Seul-gi’s name to “Princess” in her phone? In the interview I’ve referenced a few times already, Hye-ri mentions that viewers have tended to interpret all of Jae-yi’s actions “through the lens of love” even when that wasn’t the intention. Sadly...I don’t think Jae-yi has love on the brain here. She hasn’t even met Seul-gi yet!

A cynical interpretation makes more sense to me. If she gives Seul-gi a name, she’s a person. But if she’s just a word—just a picture on a flyer—it’s easier to forget her humanity. In this moment we can see Jae-yi’s plan to use Seul-gi as a tool start to take shape.

Then we flash foward and—oh no what’s this? Her tool has feelings? And she’s *really* cute when she’s angry? Abort mission!!

One thing I haven’t paid much attention to so far is Jae-yi’s ears and when they twitch. (Yes, this show will have you analyzing the way a character’s ears move. It’s a disease.) This user noted on X that her ears move when Seul-gi asks to sit next to her again (and that it’s very puppy-like awww), and I think they also twitch when Seul-gi takes her hand at the end of Epiosde 2. Her ears move again in this scene when Seul-gi says her full name and demands an answer from her.

(Seul-gi had been using the casual affectionate -ya suffix for Jae-yi until now. Does anyone know the first time Seul-gi addresses Jae-yi that way? My gut tells me it was in Episode 3 but I haven’t gone back to check.)

Based on the first two moments, you could say that her ears move when Jae-yi is pleased about something—both are moments when Everything Is Going According to Plan. But this moment feels a bit different. Is she pleased about being cornered and told off? (I mean, maybe because it’s Seul-gi she’s into it...)

When dogs pull their ears back, it can be a sign of submission, and this is the first time that Jae-yi essentially admits defeat. For once, she doesn’t have a clever response. She dismisses Seul-gi’s question and tries to escape.

But Seul-gi isn’t about to let her run away. In another first for Friendly Rivalry, *she* is the one who grabs Jae-yi’s hand. The dynamic we’ve come to expect, with Jae-yi in the active dominant role, has been turned upside-down.

Well, almost—but not quite. Jae-yi doesn’t let it happen. She slips out of Seul-gi’s grasp and smiles.

I *love* this little interaction! It’s so perfect. Apparently the smile was improvised by Hye-ri on the spot, and once again I’m floored by how in touch she is with this character. Because this cocky little smirk to mask her surprise is sooo Jae-yi. 

First-time viewers at this point might be asking, Is Jae-yi really into Seul-gi, or is she just playing with her?

For second-time viewers, there’s no doubt our girl is ten toes down. There was lots of subtle evidence sprinkled throughout Episode 5 that Jae-yi is attached. Her emotions are slipping through the cracks in her facade more and more. She’s upset that Seul-gi is giving her the cold shoulder. When Seul-gi sneakily leads her to the teacher’s room to confront her about Na-ri, she takes the bait. 

On a second watch, the question of her loyalty is replaced by a more interesting one, imo. It’s not just Does Jae-yi really love Seul-gi?—yes, times infinity—but Is Jae-yi’s love strong enough to overcome her desire for control?

Can her love transcend her father’s curse?

As of now—not yet. When Seul-gi tries to take her hand, she recoils, the same way she did with Je-na as kids. It’s not that she doesn’t want to touch Seul-gi—she can hardly keep her hands off the poor girl. It’s being touched that triggers her reflex to pull away. Because being touched means she isn’t calling the shots. It means there’s a chance someone might find a way under her armor and touch skin.

Her heart is in the game—but she’s still treating her relationship with Seul-gi as a game, and she’s losing. In this episode we’ll see her rely on some of her old bad habits in her desperation to win Seul-gi back.

As for Seul-gi, she’s still trying to figure out if Jae-yi is someone she can, literally and figuratively, hold onto—and for now that’s also a no. She’s been suspicious of Jae-yi’s kindness from the beginning. She let her guard down for a moment and got burned for it. Now she can’t even get a straight answer out of the woman. Jae-yi’s slipperiness is opening up her old wounds and reawakening her trust issues.

Like Jae-yi, we’ll see Seul-gi fall back into old patterns of behavior in this episode. Both girls are struggling against the ways they’ve learned how to survive.

Meanwhile Gyeong, the most antagonistic toward Seul-gi of the main cast members, starts warming up to her. (I love how the day after she has her gay awakening, Seul-gi just asks Gyeong point-blank if she has a crush on her—like, hey, might be worth finding out who else is for the ladies around these parts.) At a student assembly, Gyeong reveals her discovery about Seul-gi’s father. When Seul-gi follows her home, Gyeong explains her theory: Jae-yi’s dad doesn’t want the malpractice lawsuit to tarnish his hospital’s reputation. He needs to find a way to settle. If Seul-gi’s stepmom is too stubborn, then maybe Seul-gi is the key.

According to Gyeong, Jae-yi has only been cozying up to Seul-gi for her father’s sake. The goal is to befriend her so she’ll be more willing to sign the settlement papers.

Gyeong surprised me in this episode. I thought I had her figured out. But her oddly self-aware confession to Seul-gi (she’s not being nice out of the goodness of her heart, but doing it to get back at Jae-yi, because of her inferiority complex) made me consider her from a new angle.

After all, we know why Jae-yi has a grudge against Gyeong, and vice versa—but why does Gyeong immediately dislike Seul-gi so much? All she’s said is that she doesn’t want an unknown “bumpkin” hanging out with their clique.

I think there might be more to it than that. (When is there ever *not* more to it than that with this series...) Gyeong knows her relationship with Jae-yi is far from friendship at this stage: it’s grown cold and transactional, with bitterness on both sides. She uses her connection with Jae-yi for her own personal gain, and at the same time hates that she relies on Jae-yi for anything.

Then Seul-gi comes along and Jae-yi showers her with attention and affection...the same way she used to treat Gyeong. That has to sting. Seul-gi is a reminder of the friendship that Gyeong lost. Maybe even a reminder of the something more that she and Jae-yi could have had?

That’s why Gyeong needs to believe that Jae-yi’s kindness toward Seul-gi is just a dirty trick—because if it’s real, that would mean all of Jae-yi’s affection toward her had been real once, too. It would mean Jae-yi hadn’t been her nemesis from the beginning, but someone who genuinely loved her, platonically or otherwise.

Gyeong can’t accept that. It’s not pure logic that leads her to suspect Jae-yi of duplicity—there’s an emotional undercurrent pulling her in that direction, too.

The end of this conversation is...mysterious. Or is it? Gyeong asks Seul-gi if she has any painkillers for period cramps, and Seul-gi replies, no, you dork, I’m poor. We know Gyeong also suffers from hernia pain, so I thought she might be lying to get pain meds for her back...but then later she goes to a doctor and asks for an IUD. It sure is a classic rich kid move to try to bum drugs off your poor orphan friend. Is the implication that she doesn’t want to ask her mom for help? That she’s too busy studying to take care of herself? That she suspects Seul-gi of being a drug user...or dealer? I feel like there might be some subtext that I’m missing.

Speaking of drug dealers, how’s Jae-yi doing? Not well apparently :( In one of her lowest moments, she bombs Seul-gi with a series of desperate messages trying to convince her she’ll need help to study for midterms. It’s...pretty sad. Jae-yi has always been clingy and manipulative, but she’s never been so open about it. As someone who isn’t used to losing, or rejection, being beaten and rejected by the person she cares about most seems to have sent her into a downward spiral.

Then comes one of my favorite scenes from this episode. Showing no sign of the desperation we just saw in her messages, a lethargic and dead-eyed Jae-yi speaks to a nurse drawing her blood. The nurse is freaked out by the way Jae-yi stares at the needle as it pierces her skin. Jae-yi says she wants to know exactly when the needle goes in to prepare herself. The nurse responds, but doesn’t it hurt the same either way?

Oh, Jae-yi, you sad little weirdo. How I love you.

This is another one of those scenes that’s so rich, I could dedicate a whole post to it. On one level it’s about control, and how Jae-yi tries to maintain a sense of control in situations where she has none. She can’t stop the needle, or the pain. But she masters them (or imagines that she does) by refusing to look away—by watching, and bracing herself.

This is a theme that will come up with Jae-yi again and again: her need to exert “control” over the future by anticipating it.

But the nurse casts doubt on this habit. Is it really a form of control? Or is Jae-yi only letting her fear control *her*? The needle will still hurt one way or the other.

(Any theories out there, by the way, about why she might be having her blood drawn in this scene?)

Of course this scene isn’t really about needles. This conversation makes it clearer than ever that Jae-yi is depressed. The nurse says that Jae-yi has trouble sleeping, a common symptom of depression. (Another symptom is intrusive thoughts of death, and we’ll later learn that Jae-yi thinks about death—a lot.) Jae-yi then asks the nurse to take more blood, despite looking exhausted. Risky self-destructive behavior? Depression baybeeee.

I think this scene is also, in a sneaky way, about Seul-gi. You can tell Jae-yi is thinking about Seul-gi because (1) when is she ever not, and (2) she mentions that she slept really well last night—the night that Seul-gi slept over. With a smile, she says she’s running on “stored-up sleep.” Her night with Seul-gi is, I think maybe literally, the only thing keeping her going right now.

Jae-yi is facing a pain worse than a needle prick—her girl is ghosting her, and it’s exacerbating her depressive symptoms, and she doesn’t have any way of getting her back. She has no control over Seul-gi anymore.

Other people might look away and try to forget. But not Jae-yi. She’s going to handle the situation like she always does: by watching, and preparing. She’s decided to wait for an opening.

Jae-yi isn’t the only one going through a rough patch. From the state of her apartment, Seul-gi’s stepmom also seems to be going through it. Seul-gi cleans up the cans, dishes, and clothes scattered around when she comes home—but then she gets suspicious. Her stepmom never mentioned the malpractice lawsuit to her. Why is she keeping it a secret?

Seul-gi searches her stepmother’s room for clues: she finds unused pregnancy tests, her dad’s life insurance policy, and...several more green envelopes like the one she found in the mail in Episode 4. Now we finally learn what they contain: sinister messages, outlined in black crayon on a colored background (no handwriting that way), hinting that Woo Do-hyeok’s death was not an accident. Are these messages what prompted the lawsuit?

Instead of trusting the evidence all around that her stepmother is a grieving woman barely keeping it together, Seul-gi’s defenses detect a threat. If Jae-yi never really cared about her, what if her stepmom doesn’t care about her, either? What if she’s only trying to cash out and run?

At the dinner table, Seul-gi vents her fears and suspicions while her stepmom listens silently. She doesn’t confirm or deny what Seul-gi says, so we’re left to wonder if there’s any truth to the accusations.

Personally, I think her stepmom probably just didn’t want to burden Seul-gi with everything she knows. She suspects that Do-hyeok’s death had something to do with Je-na, and the spooky anonymous messages are a lot to explain to a kid whose father just died. She’s trying to protect Seul-gi, but Seul-gi is struggling to see good intentions in anyone right now.

The next scene illustrates how Jae-yi’s betrayal hasn’t just eroded Seul-gi’s trust in others, but in herself too. All her insecurities have come flooding back: She really is alone. Maybe she was never that special. Maybe without her grades she’s nothing. Maybe without her pills she’s nothing.

The teacher hands out a book of mock tests from previous years and tells the kids to start memorizing. (I love how there are zero scenes of actual teaching in this series.) Seul-gi is about to do as the teacher says, when she looks around the room and sees every other student putting the book away and carrying on as usual. It’s a moment that puts us directly in Seul-gi’s shoes. Are these mock test questions actually useful or not? If they don’t use the book, how is everyone else studying? It’s like the whole class is in on some big secret.

(I would also like to know their secret. Why *does* no one else use the book? Is it too inefficient, when they have access to targeted study materials? Is no one else underprivileged enough to need it?)

Seul-gi has another underwater vision, but this time, her whole class is down there with her, each hunched over their desk inside their own little bubble. Back in Episode 1, I said I didn’t like the bubble imagery, but I really like it here. Seul-gi isn’t the only one isolated in this class—rivalry isolates everyone from each other. They’re under the same pressure, but there’s no support or solidarity to be found.

With her confidence shaken, Seul-gi needs more than ever to prove herself. And she’s convinced there’s only one way to ace midterms: drugs.

Unfortunately her stolen stash is nearly used up. She hits the streets to solve the problem herself, as she did with the school uniform, but again her insistence on self-reliance backfires. She doesn’t have the time or the money to get her fix by legal means.

Her last resort is an acquaintance from the orphanage, Su-jin, who we haven’t met before—but the fact that Seul-gi doesn’t call right away, and the “??” after Su-jin’s name on her list, suggest she’s dreading the interaction.

Instead it’s Su-jin who calls, begging for money, clearly not doing well. Seul-gi hangs up and blocks the number. Her survival mindset has dulled any compassion she might feel. Su-jin is just further proof that she can’t rely on anyone.

Then by luck Seul-gi figures out how the local Chaehwa drug ring works. Thankfully they advertise on social media. Remember A-ra and her paper cranes, and the sanitary pads? We witnessed our first drug deal earlier this episode, when Beom-su came running into the classroom pretending to need a pad in a hurry, and A-ra passed her a box. (Kind of a genius way to do the handoff in broad daylight tbh.) Now we learn how A-ra recruits her customers: her paper cranes all have verification codes written on them.

Seul-gi orders thirty pills and A-ra arranges a pick-up at the skate park later that night. But A-ra isn’t the brains behind the operation. She’s chatting with someone else: the supplier.

Now we finally get our confirmation that, yes, Jae-yi somehow finds time in her busy schedule to deal drugs.

Question: Why? I don’t think her motive is ever clearly explained. She certainly doesn’t need the money. It’s a loose thread that invites lots of speculation. I’ve heard the theory that she’s plotting to fake her death from the very first episode, and starts selling drugs to raise money for her new life.

Personally, I don’t think so. There’s way more evidence that Jae-yi is suicidally depressed than there is evidence pointing toward that kind of scheme.

But that leaves the question open: What does Jae-yi gain from this side hustle?

I think the simplest answer is that it’s another one of the “sins” she starts committing in her prologue. Like those other sins, it’s more reckless behavior. (What else are you supposed to do when you’re a clinically depressed gifted kid with access to way too many pills?) Also like those sins, it’s a kind of rebellion against her father.

This is maybe the most direct way that she rebels. She’s stealing the drugs from his hospital and selling them to students at the school he sponsors—and she’s his daughter. If she got caught, his reputation would take a massive hit. If she doesn’t get caught, she still gets the satisfaction of breaking every imaginable rule right under his nose.

A-ra tells Jae-yi that their new buyer is probably “the new kid” and that’s all it takes. Her opening has arrived. How long do you think it takes her to throw on her drug dealer outfit and leave the house? I’m guessing about...seven seconds? Six and a half?

Let’s address the elephant in the room. Huge spoiler warning if for some reason you haven’t watched the show?? (Seriously go watch it if you haven’t.) Before Jae-yi leaves to meet up with Seul-gi for the exchange, we see her in the pharmacy holding a bottle of pills clearly marked Consotine—the pill that Seul-gi has ordered. Later Jae-yi tells her that they are all out of Consotine at the pharmacy, so she brought some of the Real Good Designer Shit instead. 

Even on the first time around, we know this is a lie, but on a second watch, we know the truth: Instead of Consotine, Jae-yi gives Seul-gi harmless multivitamins.

I think this helps us see where Jae-yi is in her character arc. All this time she’s been selling drugs to her fellow students without remorse. But now, because it’s Seul-gi, she swaps out the drugs for a placebo. That’s not the kind of decision you can make without any reflection or self-awareness.

She has to know. She has to know she’s going to absurd lengths just for the chance to talk to Seul-gi again. Seul-gi is much more than a tool or a face on a poster to her now—she’s a person Jae-yi wants to protect.

And that’s what makes the tension in this scene so electric, no matter how many times you watch it. This is Jae-yi at her most paradoxical. At Peak Antihero. Even with her heart firmly in the right place, she’s indulging in—reveling in—all her most toxic traits.

Because it’s fun.

Look at her! She is having the time of her life. This is clearly the first time that Jae-yi has felt the will to live in ages. Seul-gi needs her again! She has leverage!

This scene isn’t about one addict—it’s about two. Seul-gi needs the reassurance that Consotine provides, and Jae-yi needs the thrill of the game.

If you set aside the knowledge that Jae-yi isn’t actually obliterating Seul-gi’s mind with some unknown substance, her behavior is still not cool. I mean, it’s very cool, but bad. Bad Jae-yi. The first thing she does is deliberately undermine Seul-gi’s confidence: So your great study secret is doing drugs, huh? Then she lies about the Consotine to intimidate her. Then she undermines her confidence again, saying that she’ll never be able to succeed without drugs because everyone else at Chaehwa is doing them. (Then she does some skateboard tricks because she’s a huge dork.) Then she pulls out some classic Jae-yi manipulation, baiting Seul-gi with the promise of revealing how she obtained her personal info, but only if she can score higher on the midterm test. And finally she tops it off by giving her the cram school study materials which she just so happens to have to make Seul-gi even more dependent on and indebted to her.

She anticipated, and she came prepared.

Jae-yi is playing a role here again—the mysterious bad girl—and she’s even dressed for the part. Being in love with Seul-gi hasn’t changed the fact that she’s in love with the game itself. And in this game she’s willing to do almost anything to win. Even if that means ruthlessly exploiting every one of Seul-gi’s insecurities.

Centrum is a hell of a drug.

Wait. Did I do it? Did I finish a whole episode in one post??

Well, I cheated a little. I skipped the Ye-ri scenes in this episode because we’re going to learn a lot more about her in Episode 7. I’ll cover those scenes in the next entry, when I analyze her prologue. Until then!

[gregoryeddiesgoldchain]

AND ANOTHER THING ☝🏾

something about the way that “colorful teachers” comment/moment happened and then babs looked at the camera like that and then ava looked at her like that.. idk i feel like that should be added to the ava is queer column 🤷🏾‍♀️

[stargirlfeyre]

So whose going to tell these people that Elain was friends with the shadow twins before Nesta was friends with Gwyn and Emerie? How are Elain fans copying y’all by talking about her trio when canonically her trio existed before Nesta’s😭?

Seriously though the possessiveness Nesta fans feel over normal things is so…? They’re some of the most envious people in this fandom because how are you gatekeeping friendships? It’s canon that they’re friends. It’s canon that they spend more time with her than her own sisters. It’s canon that they’re friends with her not because they’re getting paid for it but because they like spending time with her (they literally rejected when Feyre tried to give them a raise for helping Elain). Elain’s life does not revolve around Nesta and she does have outside relationships that matter to her. Y’all need to just cope with that.

Like having friends is copying someone now? Please go outside platonic relationships are normal.

And secondly how are you gate keeping a court that already belongs to Rhys😭? “Elain fans try to steal Dusk from Nesta” now how can they steal something from Nesta that doesn’t belong to her in the first place? The Dusk Court/Prison does not belong to Elain or Nesta and it’s already said that even if it’s an 8th court, it still falls under Rhys’ jurisdiction. His blood is the only thing that can open the gates. You’re gatekeeping territory that already has Rhys’ name slapped on it. But you want to talk about fans copying and stealing from other characters?

And it’s funny how people only have an issue with saying another character is going to get Gwydion when it’s Elain. Don’t get me wrong I don’t think she’s going to get it because I’m personally not an “Elain becoming a warrior and wielding a powerful sword” girlie but why is it this big discourse only when it comes to her? Mind you, y’all aren’t even arguing over how her becoming a warrior and getting Gwydion wouldn’t fit her character (which would be valid)…y’all are arguing over her “taking” something from Nesta. Which makes no sense because almost every character is foreshadowed (by this fandom) to wield Gwydion and y’all don’t have as much of an issue with that.

Like I’ve even seen some theories about Nyx, a baby, getting it (because if the High Ruler plot does happen he would be a future High King) and it wasn’t a big deal. It’s like people understand that Nesta did not claim that sword the way she did with Ataraxia until Elain is brought into the conversation. We can make fanart and create theories of every character under the sun with that sword but you better not even think about Elain getting it.

From gatekeeping Motherly relationships, friendships, a court that doesn’t even belong to Nesta, and a sword I think it’s safe to say Nesta fans have officially lost it.

[starbuck]

sometimes i see people apply “no children” to their ship and i’m just like. Hmmmm… real fucked up relationship you’ve got there. they’re not the alpha couple tho

[bigdumbbambieyes]

[oreolesbian]

the absolute lack of media literacy from people who haven’t even seen oppenheimer is making my head spin but whatever

[white-winter-hymnals]

I’m a bland amalgamation of everyone I’ve ever thought was cool with no defining traits or features -> I’m a majestic sponge of a human who is interested in many things and can’t possibly be pinned down

[sugarcoatednightshade]

Tired of seeing fic on ao3 claiming to be based off dune the book series when it’s very obvious that the writer has only seen dune the movie(s).

Yes, it matters. Yes, these are very different works. You’re probably doing this for visibility; I don’t care. Archive Of Our Own is a fucking archive, stop labeling your works with a tag you know is factually incorrect. It makes it impossible for me to filter for fics I want to read.