#it usually finishes before i can even find the fucking thing on my dash bc it's so far down

[bird-bureau]

The eversource ad is making this app fucking unusable

[trillgutterbug]

tagged by @malewifemanhunter ty!!

name: trill q gutterbug, the q stands for queer

star sign: who knows or cares

height: 5'10, which means i can definitively say coffee doesn't stunt your growth, even if you start drinking it age 4

time: 9:38am 😓 i do NOT want to be awake rn but the rest of my family is gone atm so the grisly burden of letting the chickens out at ass o'clock fell to me. (eta it is now 12:13 bc i fell asleep for two hours before posting this)

birthday: the day laura ingalls wilder was wed

favorite bands/artists: of montreal, why?, clipping., and nine inch nails are the eternal faves i can't get sick of, but im also tremendously partial to kendrick and lil nas and hozier and mcr and twenty one pilots and the like. also i listen to a lot of chillhop and electroswing, because im a good person with good taste

last movie: i think mad god, which was fantastic and completely incomprehensible. i don't usually have the attention span to sit through a movie if im watching it alone, so.... ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ (eg, the way i still have to finish everything everywhere all at once, which i got an hour into last week, enjoyed tremendously, then got up to walk around and listen to a podcast and play a video game and jerk off or whatever the fuck, and just haven't gone back!)

last show: i believe the latest ep of what we do in the shadows.... or maybe sunny? or euphoria? whatever it was, i was watching it with jackie im sure!

when did i create this blog: idk where to find that info, but im p sure 2014, after LJ shat the bed and i dipped from active fandom for a couple months and when i came back it was like.... owo where'd everyone go?! here, apparently.

what i post: constant thirsty nonsense about a rotating string of fandom obsessions, shitposts, sometimes a bit of tumblr-brand anarchism and socialism bc even the junkfood buffet churns out a smidge of healthy caloric content every once in a while

last thing i googled: i don't use google but the last thing i duckduckgo'd was........ where's wade wilson from, bc i saw something that said vancouver and one of the movies implied regina but i swear to GOD i know it's winnipeg from some other source. results annoyingly inconclusive.

other blogs: @truelevelb1tch, my rick and morty side, which is going to pop off again in a MONTH (!!!!!!!!!) when s6 starts dropping 😱😱😱. i do not apologise for the person i become when r&m occurs, fair warning

do i get asks?: not enough to worry about, thank goodness

following: idk where to find that info either, but it's probably a few hundred, the vast majority of which are inactive at this point. i probably see <50 blogs on my dash??

average hours of sleep: like eight, which is NOT enough for me, but it varies wildly between 5 and 10 depending on what im doing for work on a given day/whether i have to get up early for animal-related reasons/if im up reading fic until 3am/time of year/blah blah

instruments: flesh flute....,,,

what i’m wearing: nuthin

dream job: I Do Not Dream of Labour

dream trip: i hate travelling! but i am partial to visiting my cousins' farm on the reg, so let's say that

nationality: canadian

favorite songs: the trapeze swinger by iron and wine has been my fave song for about ten years. it's almost ten minutes long and if stats across various laptops and ipods and phones could be collated, it would show a playcount in the thousands lol. i first heard it as the closing music on the amazing podfic for the inception fic presque vu and it gutted me on the spot. ode to the mets by the strokes is also on the same trajectory. otherwise, my fave songs come and go in the usual way, by liking something and listening to it repeatedly until i can't stand it. (eta: just went into my music app to see if i'd forgotten anything, and literally the only thing on my "most played" list is the trapeze swinger, so...)

last book i’ve read: currently reading (aside from the massive eternal stack of ww2 ref books) the half life of valery k by natasha pulley and grimscribe by thomas ligotti. most recently before that i read borne by jeff vandermeer, the kingdoms by natasha pulley, blood meridian, the d&d 5e player's handbook, and some postapoc scifi thing that was so forgettable i genuinely cannot conjure up the name of it or its author!!

top 3 fictional universes i’d like to live in: idk, they all seem uniquely bad in ways that do not necessarily improve upon the unique ways in which our current universe is bad. but to be sporting i'll say star trek of course, anything jared harris is in bc i want to fuck him more than im afraid of space terrorists or freezing to death or nuclear radiation, and the fictional universe i've been manifesting in my imagination for years where we never invented agriculture and i died at birth for simplistic umbilical cord-related reasons

lowkey tagging @kaasknot, @collapsinghorizons, @mollynoble, @twobrokenwyngs, @pohjanneito, @lingua-mortua, @sloppyplanetary, @alakeeffectgirl, and @quiescentire

[ri-ahhh]

can u just give me mushy gushy shit with grayson like ethan has a girl over so the two of you decide to go out for a burger date and a walk at night? idk something like that pls 👉🏻👈🏻

A/N: I couldn’t even tell you how long this has been sitting in my drafts but I was looking through trying to find something to finish bc I was in the mood to write but not from scratch and found this lol. It was about halfway done and I have no idea where I was going with it but this is what it turned into as of today. Idek if there’s even anyone around here anymore to read this but whatever haha here it is.

You don’t usually mind being single. Even when your best friend/roommate Stella started seeing her boyfriend Charlie seriously, it didn’t give you any longing for a relationship of your own.

But there are some nights where you feel down and you just can’t handle it. The scenes of casual intimacy as soon as you get home and see them together — the vase of flowers on the kitchen island he must have brought over; the playful bickering across the room.

The incessant, unrelenting sound of a marathon session going on through the shared wall of your and Stella’s bedrooms.

You groan and turn the volume up on your AirPods, going straight to your messages next.

Wyd?

{G} 👀

Don’t be weird.

Pretty sure Stella and Charlie are trying to put a hole in the wall w her headboard and I can’t take it anymore.

Your roommate chooses that moment to let out a particularly enthusiastic “fuck!” If she weren’t your best friend, you might have given in to the urge to bang on the wall, but your phone lights up with Grayson’s reply anyway.

{G} E too.

{G} I mean like I can’t hear him but ik what’s going down in there

{G} I’d offer to pick u up but sounds like u need to get outta there lol. Meet me here?

You like the message and slip on some shoes, making sure to slam your bedroom door closed on your way out, as if it would make them pause even one thrust.

In the year that you’ve known him, Grayson Dolan has become one of your closest friends. The kind where you met as acquaintances, never talked much, but then you reconnected randomly and the conversation never stopped from there on. You talk about anything and everything, but recently you’ve bonded even more about being a perpetual third wheel. You knew he’d understand and not pass judgement on you in times like this, so it had been a no-brainer to text him as an escape from tonight.

He buzzes you into the gate when you get to his house, and he tells you over another text to go ahead and hop in the Porsche before he even gets outside. It makes you smile; night drives are your favorite, and while the Tesla is a vibe in its own right, there’s just something calming about someone (your attractive friend, no less) tangibly driving you around. It’s exactly what you need right now, no matter what destination he has in mind.

When he slides into the driver’s side not even a minute later, you’re almost overwhelmed by him. Looking far too good in your eyes for how casual he’s dressed in a well-fitting T-shirt and some grey sweats. Hair slightly damp from a recent shower.

He greets you with a grin and leans over the console to kiss your cheek, and you can smell the combination of his shampoo and a bit of cologne. You always appreciated that he doesn’t overdo the fragrance, and if possible it makes him even more intoxicating at times.

“Hey,” he says simply, sitting back in his seat and fastening the seatbelt.

“Hey.” You smile and watch him with a silent but fairly obvious appreciation as he reaches a hand to rest on the back of your seat, twisting the bit he needs to look out the back windshield. The Porsche has a backup camera, obviously, but he’s a cautious driver to a fault and insists he doesn’t fully trust them.

Grayson gets the car facing enough of the right direction to throw it in drive and exit down the long driveway. You shake your head and settle back, kicking off your shoes with a sigh and tucking your feet onto the seat beneath you.

“One day, we’ll be the ones making them leave the house,” he jokes, stopping for the gate to open.

You know it’s implied that he’s referring to the two of you with separate people, but you can’t help but consider the option that the two of you could make that happen together.

“I know for a fact you have a booty call list a mile long, Dolan,” you say with a raised brow. Despite the fleeting thought, keeping things lighthearted and platonic is much easier to deal with in reality. “You could have called one of them and done just that.”

He scoffs and pretends like you’ve just hurt him deeply, slapping a hand to his burly chest to clutch at his heart. “Excuse me, it is not a mile long.” He glances over at you with a held-back smirk. “A couple hundred yards, tops.”

You throw your head back with a loud cackle, looking out the window now as he turns onto the main road. “You’re incorrigible.”

“Damn, that’s a big word.” He likes to tease you about your extended vocabulary.

“Hopeless,” you elaborate, crossing your arms and rolling your eyes.

“Is that what that word means, or are you making fun of my high school dropout vocab?”

“Both.”

You let your head roll back against the headrest, turning to watch him, knees swayed to the side a bit. His form isn’t hidden in the dark at all, features lit up by the dash in front of him and the streetlights you’re passing by outside.

“Why didn’t you, then? Call one of them?”

Grayson shrugs. “Just didn’t really feel like spending time with people tonight.”

You’re silent for a moment and consider his answer. “Why did you agree to hang out, then? You didn’t have to.”

His eyes never leave the road, but you see the veins in his hand gripping the steering wheel bulge out for a moment as he squeezes it tightly.

“I guess I meant I didn’t want to spend time with people I don’t really care about.”

Your heart skips a beat, but you play it off with a sarcastic tone. “Aw, you care about me?”

“Of course I do,” he replies easily. “I’m not sure why, though. You’re so fuckin sassy sometimes.”

“You love it.”

The car rolls to a stop at a red light. Grayson’s hand slides from where it’s lightly gripping the gear shift, to yours, which is picking at a loose string on your leggings.

Your easy smile at the comfortable banter between you and Grayson falters some in surprise, but you let him turn your palm over and trace the lines of your hand softly. Both of your gazes are fixated on the way he tickles your skin when he says, “Yeah. I do.”

Your eyes shoot up, just in time to meet his. He looks at you with a weird mixture heat and vulnerability, and there’s a thick moment of silence, no longer than the single beat of your heart that you can hear thudding loud and clear in your ears, when suddenly the car behind you lays on the horn.

Both of you startle, and Grayson’s attention returns to the road ahead. He steps on the gas and takes his hand away, carding it through his hair roughly as you sink back into your seat with a disbelieving scoff.

“Oh my God, dude, you can’t just do that to me,” you blurt out, your heart in your stomach and your brain even lower. A helpless giggle escapes you, and you tug on your own locks. “Shit...”

“What?” he asks defensively, but you hear the tiny bit of the grin he’s wearing in his voice.

You turn your head to deadpan him, eyes wide. “You can’t just... imply something like that and give me sex eyes and not think you did something to me! Are you crazy?”

He gives a one-shouldered shrug with the arm resting on top of the steering wheel again. “Maybe. You’re proving my ‘sassy’ point all over again.”

“Oh my — don’t fuck with my head, Gray.”

“Hey.” His voice is deeper, more serious as the car comes to another stop. You’re only just now realizing you’ve reached the burger joint, and that the late hour made finding parking a nonexistent problem. He puts the car in park and unbuckles his seatbelt before doing the same to yours. “I’m sorry. I’m not trying to fuck with your head, I promise. I just... didn’t want it to seem like I was coming on too strong too suddenly. I, uh, have a history of doing that.”

You stare at him, processing everything. “I know.”

He chuckles dryly. “Yeah, I know you do.”

There’s more silence. That heavy kind that happened right after his little impromptu confession.

“You know,” you finally speak up, finding your voice after mulling over your words, “I kinda love that you’re a douche.”

He looks a little taken aback, until understanding dawns on him, and his eyes light up in a way that has you smiling instantly with him. “Really?”

You nod. “Call me crazy.”

Grayson shifts closer in his seat, his pink tongue darting out to lick those plump lips. You mirror him, and this time you take the initiative to reach out for his hand. It’s warm and strong, just like the rest of him.

Like earlier, you watch your hands lightly caressing each other as you speak. “And I love that you come on strong. And that you put your heart out there.” You interlace your fingers, immediately in love with the contrast of his huge ones between your slim ones. “Makes things way easier for me.”

He grins wide. “There’s that sass again.”

You bite your lip through your smirk and tug him close to you with your clasped hands, your free one reaching behind his neck to drag his lips to yours. “Mm. Better shut me up, then.”

[prettyboy-asmo]

Obey me! boys with trans masc MC

 Some headcanons about the brothers + Solomon and Diavolo with Trans Masc MC. it’s pretty self-indulgent. Obviously not everyone shares the same experiences with their identity.  I took from my own experiences and feelings about things to write these.

TW: Mentions of transphobia (not detailed and not from any of the main  characters)

Lucifer

It doesn’t actually come up for some time, not until you realize that you two are definitely getting closer to being intimate. 

One night things start to get steamy and when you realize you have to force yourself to not run away. You’re still up and halfway across the room faster than Lucifer thought a human could move. Your heart is beating wildly in your chest, and you have to make yourself look Lucifer in the eyes. 

He’s quick to apologize, thinking he made you uncomfortable- he’s honestly worried he’d hurt you or crossed your boundaries. You assure him that it’s nothing like that. You just need to explain something before things go further. 

If you are nervous about telling him, he’ll wait patiently for you to say what you need to say. Reassures you that it changes nothing about how he feels about you. He only cares that you’re happy and comfortable. 

“I’m glad you feel comfortable telling me. I know humans can hold some troubling views on the subject.” He’s never really understood a lot of the human hang ups on things like this, but he knows it’s a big deal for some to share the knowledge with others, it takes trust.

What he doesn’t say is how happy he is that you trust him that much (how proud he is,) 

Will ask if there’s anything specific you need him to do/not do or anything that you might not have that you want or need. (ie: new binder if you haven’t had top surgery, do you want top surgery? He can make it happen.)

If you’re having a particularly bad time with dysphoria, he’ll straight up ask if there’s anything he can do to help. 

He’ll also be sure to call you by your name, or specifically masculine terms 

Someone misgenders you on purpose? He doesn’t hesitate to set them straight. No one’s foolish enough to do it again. 

Mammon:

He finds out on accident. You’re changing when he barges in your room, saying something about being late for breakfast in his usual loud manner. 

He freezes when he finally looks at you, Sees your binder or your scars but honestly it doesn’t really register bc holy shit his human is half dressed and standing in front of him and-poor boy is blushing so hard and is silent because he’s certain he’ll make a fool of himself. 

It hadn’t occurred to you until he went quiet that he didn’t know already. 

You finish getting dressed and his silence is worrying you at this point. You quietly ask him if he’d like for you to stop hanging around him

That manages to snap him out of his daze and he looks utterly confused. “Why would ya think that?” You try to explain that you’ve had people that have stopped speaking to you because you’re trans, or have even tried to tell you it’s wrong. 

“They obviously don’t know anything,” He says, “You’re stuck with the Great Mammon, ya hear? I’m your first guy and you’re my man!” It’s not the first time he’s referred to you as his, but it’s the first time he’s used man instead of human. After that though, he starts doing it more and each time it makes you smile. 

“That’s right, That’s my man!” “What took ya so long, man?” 

If you’re having bad dysphoria he’s very vocal about calling you his man, reassuring you, and asking what you want in that moment. Stay in and just lay around? Sure. find a distraction? He can think of plenty.

He offers you some of his shirts and jackets. “They suit ya,” he insists, even if they’re big on you, “Gotta make sure my man is staying stylish!”  (He won’t admit how happy it makes him to see you wearing his clothes, but you can tell anyways.)

Someone misgenders you to upset you? “What’d you just say to my man?” He’s angry and he’s not about to be quiet about it. 

Leviathan:

You mention it off-handedly while discussing your favorite anime and manga. 

You’d started talking about one that actually had pretty decent Trans rep, lamenting that it wasn’t more popular because of how much it meant to see someone like you-

Levi catches it immediately, but he doesn’t say anything about- It doesn’t change anything he feels anyway. 

He does, however, take time to look for movies, tv shows, games, or anything you might both enjoy that has good Representation. 

When you realize what he’s doing you can’t help but hug him tightly  and kiss his cheek, and it makes him blush.”I’m glad you’re happy.” 

Bad Dysphoria? He’ll drag you to his room to binge anime, play games, and watch movies. He knows the distraction helps.

You’re his Henry, and he’s gonna go the extra mile to make sure you’re comfortable, however he can. 

If you use a binder and find you need a new one, he’s on top of it- He’ll offer to make one for you so he knows it’ll be the right size and it will be good quality. 

Someone misgenders you after being corrected? He checks on you first and asks if you want him to do something about it. If he finds out they did it Maliciously? He’s going to do something about that- reminding everyone in the process that he’s the third eldest (and third most powerful) for a reason. 

Satan:

It comes up when you start spending more time with him- studying or getting book recommendations to pass your free time, You can tell when your interactions shift to something more.

He nods when you tell him, “And your pronouns are He/him, correct?” 

Asks if there’s anything he should avoid doing, anything you don’t like to be called, He wants to know your boundaries then and there so he doesn’t overstep them. 

He spends some time researching. He wants to make sure he understands as much as he can about you, including this- he doesn’t want to ask you directly what your experience in the human realm was, in case it brings up any unpleasant memories. 

You notice the change in his reading list eventually and it makes you feel warm knowing that he’s doing it for you. You tell him if he does have any questions he can ask you. 

He does ask you if you use a binder and if you’re binding safely.

He also asks if Dysphoria is something you struggle with. If you tell him it is, his line of questioning shifts to things he can possibly do to help you deal with it. 

If it’s a really rough day and you admit you don’t want to really do anything, he’ll pick a book to read to you, just so you know he’s there for anything you need, even if it’s just quiet company. 

He also becomes a little more vocal, calls you things like dashing or handsome. 

If someone misgenders you with ill intent? He’s going to deal with it, and it’s not going to be pretty. 

Asmodeus:

He invites you to his room to show you the new outfits he bought. He does it pretty much every time he goes shopping. 

This time the first outfit he walks out includes a skirt. You already know Asmo doesn’t believe in gendered clothing, or adhering to any sort of ‘norm’ but it’s the first time you’ve seen it so obviously in person when it comes to his clothes.

“I wish I could wear something like that,” the words are out your mouth before you register them, and you flush even while Asmo giggles. He offers his closet to you and tells you to try something on. 

Your hesitance must show, because he frowns a little, looking concerned. “I used to,” you admit, “But people kept telling me that I didn’t need to transition if I liked all that stuff anyways.” 

He’s next to you in a second, hand tilting your chin to look at him, “Fuck those people,” he says seriously, “It’s a shame for a man to hide such a delightful body. It’s even worse for him to deny himself things he likes because of ignorant commentary.” 

He ends up making suggestions on what to try on, starting with a simple skirt and shirt combo. 

You stare at the mirror for a long time, turning occasionally to watch the way the skirt flares up slightly when you do. You catch Asmo smiling behind you in the reflection.

“Do you like it?” You catch his eyes in the reflection, nodding, “I missed the feeling. Thank you, Asmo.” 

“Anything for someone as handsome as you,” 

If you’re feeling really dysphoric he’ll try to pamper you- want him to brush your hair? Face masks? A relaxing bath? An entire spa day? New clothes? He wants you to feel good about yourself and he knows self care is the first step. 

He loves to pick out clothes for you to wear, but he always explicitly asks what style you want, because he wants you to feel as good as you look in anything he picks for you. 

If someone misgenders you maliciously or more than once, he’ll have plenty of words with them. 

In fact, as it turns out many of his fans will also have words if they catch wind- Asmo loves posting pics with you on Devilgram and taking you to the Fall, so you’ve also become part of many of his fans' lives too.

Beelzebub:

You feel a little self-conscious surrounded by attractive demons- But Beel is a whole other level. He’s tall and solid muscle, and you're envious of it. 

You know you could never keep up with his workouts, but you ask if you could join him anyways, and if he could give you some pointers on good workouts for specific goals. He agrees right away, more than happy to help. 

It becomes a routine and you look forward to your shared workouts, even if it’s just you both doing your own thing, or Beel giving you pointers on your form or him asking you to record him so he can see how his own form looks. 

You’re so comfortable around Beel, that during one of your afternoon workouts you pull your shirt over your head as you stop to take a break and even out your breathing. 

“It’s not good to wear a binder while exercising for so long.” Beel’s concerned comment takes you off guard for a moment and you flush, unsure of what to say because he sounds so casual about it, and you aren’t really used to it. 

You settle for “Sorry,” and quickly go to tug your shirt back on, but he shakes his head. “You don’t have to. Just rest while I finish up.” 

“You’re doing this for you, right? No matter what, You’re a great guy, so don’t push yourself because other people expect it.”  You’re surprised when he joins you after he’s done and it’s the first thing he says. You tell him it does help you feel better about yourself and you enjoy spending the time with him, doing something you both enjoy. And the smile he gives you is blinding. 

If you’re having a bad time with Dysphoria he’ll ask what you want to do. Workout? Movie and Snacks? Do you need a distraction or do you want to just...be?

He’s well aware of the toxic masculinity that can be present in places like gyms and such. He’s never tolerated it, but there’s a new edge to him if he hears anyone saying something disrespectful or hateful. 

If someone misgenders you, he makes his displeasure known but he focuses on making sure you aren’t upset. (Not many would dare risk making him angry anyways, as quiet as he is he’s still intimidating when he needs to be.)

Belphegor: 

You don’t actually tell him. with how often you end up napping with him he just knows. He doesn’t even say anything about it- he doesn’t see the need to and neither do you. 

He does say something the one time he catches you falling asleep in a binder. “You can’t sleep in that!” he wakes you up and makes you change- he tells you it’s important to have proper sleepwear, a lecture that might even rival one Lucifer's, as he himself begins to doze off. 

After that he makes a point to check to make sure you aren’t wearing a binder before he cuddles up for a nap or for the night (Not that he admits it to you)

He likes to tease you, but he’s always hyper aware of his words. The last thing he wants to do is accidentally say something that might actually hurt you

He doesn’t tend to use overly gendered language with you in the first place, “You’re my nap buddy,” “You make a really nice pillow,” “I like it when you look flustered like that,”

But if he notices/ you tell him you’re struggling with dysphoria more than usual he’ll make the effort to use specifically masculine terms

He’s not the greatest with being open about his feelings but he’ll reassure you if that’s what you need

He doesn’t like seeing you struggling so he asks the best ways to help you feel better, even if he still teases you he’s doing his best to cheer you up or make you more comfortable.

If someone misgenders you on purpose he’s making sure you’re okay. He’ll be even more clingy than usual, glare at anyone he thinks looks at you wrong or he’ll simply drag you back home to laze around and cuddle (He tells you he’s tired and just wants to nap, but he really just wants to keep an eye on you in case it upset you more than you showed.) 

He’ll have a discussion with whoever upset you later, anyways. 

Solomon: 

When you realize he’s way older than he looks you’re concerned that he’s gonna have some very archaic views about things. 

Even as you grow closer to him, the thought nags at the back of your mind and it keeps you stuck at a distance despite his obvious flirting. 

He notices, of course. “Am I making you uncomfortable? I can stop if you’d like,” It's a stark contrast to his usual teasing and mystic demeanor, and the serious expression on his face draws some courage from you. 

You manage to tell him without stuttering, and then you flush when you tell him you weren’t sure he’d be okay with that. Saying it out loud makes you feel a little silly- all things considered. 

He hums and tells you he understands, but that he doesn’t care in the sense that if you’re happy and true to yourself that’s what matters most. (It sounds suspiciously like something Asmo would say, but there’s sincerity in his voice and eyes.)

His flirting continues- when he passes you at RAD, when he invites you to study with him, even his messages, simple compliments like “You look rather handsome today,” or teasing “I’m so lucky to sit with the cutest boy in class,” but now that you aren’t worrying about other things, you can finally return his teasing. 

If you’re having a hard time with dysphoria, he’ll ask if he can help. He’ll show up with snacks, movies, books, anything you want to do. He’ll even offer to ask Asmo for the needed supplies for a spa day, if he thinks that might help. 

If someone misgenders you on purpose he’s gonna set them straight. He’s the most powerful sorcerer and he’s not going to let someone disrespect you like that

Diavolo: 

When you arrive in the Devildom, you actually laugh. A few of the people (demons!) standing around you look concerned. 

“I mean, plenty of people told me I’d go to hell but I don’t think this is what they meant.” There’s some surprised looks but no one mentions it past that, really. 

But it does come up in one of your regular meetings with Diavolo, what had started out as short meetings to discuss how things were progressing during your stay had suddenly turned into hours of visiting over tea and Barbatos cooking. 

He asks you what you meant when you’d said that. It wasn’t the first ‘personal’ question he asked you, and you didn’t see a reason not to explain. So you tell him all about your run ins with the wannabe preachers and ‘concerned’ Sunday school moms and the like and how you managed to offend them. 

He looks curious and you tell him to feel free to ask you if he has a question. He has a few, mostly about if there’s anything making you uncomfortable he might not be aware of, or if there’s anything you need that you can’t get in the Devildom. 

He’s genuinely concerned about not having thought about things like this when it comes to the exchange students, and asks if you’d help him make sure the program was improved and friendly towards all. 

It warms your heart to see him so passionate and ready to learn in order to make others comfortable, so you agree without hesitation

Your visits with Diavolo grow in number after that though some of them remain just friendly visits, some are focused on the exchange program and some of them are far more intimate. 

If you tell him you’re having a rough time with feeling dysphoric, he’ll Invite you over to visit and make sure you’re alright- and if you don’t feel like going out? He’ll come to you, a box of sweets from Barbatos and determined to find out if there’s anything he can do to help. 

He’s all about reassurance, “You’re perfect, and I don’t lie, remember?” 

Someone misgenders you intentionally or is just being transphobic in general? He’s quick to shut that down. He makes it known that he won’t tolerate any sort of hate speech or such behavior, and especially not towards you. No one is going to test Lord Diavolo on that, either.

[bopbopstyles]

3. More Than a Song

SERIES RATING: M (sex)

CHAPTER WORD COUNT: 9.7k

MASTERLIST | INSPO TAG | ASK

Y/N promised herself she would never date a musician. It was her one rule–her only rule, actually–when it came to dating. But then, Harry Styles rolled into her life and asked her to break it, just this once. And this is what happened.

a/n: prepare for ANGST! and dunkirk premiere harry aka one of his best looks ever :) also thank u to @havethetimeofyourstyles for making my line breaks bc i’m inept at making things xoxo

pls reblog to spread the word about only exception! 🥰

“Baby,” Harry said, turning to her from where he stood in his closet. “Can you help me with my collar? I can’t get it.”

Y/N set down her phone—she was ready first, which wasn’t surprising considering it took Harry ages to get ready, partially because he kept getting distracted with her. He’d touch her, run his hands all over her, ask if he could get her out of her lingerie, and she’d have to remind him that she’d barely even had it on and they had an important event. “Sure.”

Harry looked dashing—he always did. After much debate, they had decided on a simple white silk short-sleeved button down and a pair of flared black pants, cool enough for May in LA, but still perfectly Harry. Y/N had painted his nails last night a pastel purple while they had watched a documentary about sheep—which Harry had selected—and the color popped against the neutrals of the rest of the outfit. Shoes were still up in the air, but Y/N was trying to get him to wear the yellow loafers he’d gotten recently, the ones she was so obsessed with she was considering stealing for herself.

Somehow Harry always managed to mess up his collars before big nights, the nerves probably getting to him. Y/N smoothed the material on his shoulders to relax him before popping up his collar and folding it back down crisply. “There you go.” In the mirror in front of Harry, her eyes trailed down his body, from his sweet curls she had labored over styling in the bathroom, to the recently tailored pants he wore. She wrapped her arms around his waist and squeezed, a smile dancing onto Harry’s face at the action. “Nervous, bubs?”

He turned his head and pressed a soft kiss to her forehead. “Bit. More for you to hear it than anyone else.”

The honesty of his statement brought butterflies to her tummy. Harry had been in and out of meetings for the past few months getting together the release of his debut album and putting the final touches on it, but at no point had he let her hear it. She suspected it was because he was scared she’d hate it, but when she asked her dad about it, he told her to think about it as his journal. His journal of a past that Y/N hadn’t been a part of. That had made Y/N understand a bit better, the prospect of being nervous of what she’d think of him more the worry than a worry of what she’d think of the music. So she nuzzled her nose into his shoulder, careful not to get lipstick on the fabric, and told him, “I’m going to love it. It’ll be perfect, just like you.”

Harry’s arms wrapped backwards so he could hold her to him and they stood there, holding one another, basking in each other’s presence before everyone else arrived. It had been a busy couple months for them to start a relationship—Y/N was swamped at work, her boss having left so she had to take on extra work, and Harry was releasing his album, Dunkirk was coming out in the summer, and his tour started in the fall. It was a lot to say the least, and Y/N tried not to think about it too often because she’d get all in her head and ignore Harry’s texts for hours until he called her and asked her if she wanted gummy worms or Hershey’s for movie night. Then, she’d remind herself that they were doing good—really good, even. Better than other relationships that she had been in for this long. Usually this was when she got bored, but with Harry she kept falling for him more and more every day they spent with each other.

He was like a drug, and she was addicted.

“We should head down,” Y/N said, brushing back from him. “Wear the yellow ones, yeah?”

He mumbled something under his breath about her being bossy and coming for Lambert’s job and she snorted, leaving him in the walk-in closet to straighten himself out. Her phone in her hand, she slipped on her heels, a summer sandal with a platform so her feet didn’t hurt, the perfect compliment to her flowing sundress she’d selected for the release party. When Harry had seen it he’d promptly asked if she could take it off so he could ravish her, so she decided it was a good choice. It emphasized her curves in a way that made her feel confident and she’d pinned her hair over one shoulder, the earrings Harry had gotten her for their three-month anniversary on display.

Re-emerging, Harry rolled his eyes over her body and she gave him a soft smile at the way his eyes screamed with desire. “See something you like?”

“Fuck yes,” he cursed. “Can’t wait to have you all to myself later.” Hands in hers, he pressed a searing kiss to her lips, the kind that made her toes curl, before pulling back. “C’mon, Azoff is yelling at me over text about being late to my own party.”

“It’s literally downstairs,” she pointed out. “He’s just mad he can’t embarrass you in front of your friends.”

Harry laughed, arm tucked around her waist as they descended the stairs of his house. He’d bought it at the end of February, a birthday gift to himself, and Y/N had thought to herself at the time that it wasn’t about her, it was about him. But it was kind of hard whenever he had her help him pick out all the furniture, making sure she approved of the colors he painted the walls and the patio furniture.

Downstairs, the party was in full force. Harry hadn’t invited too many people, mostly the same crowd as his birthday. Since it was at his house, he was hesitant to give the address out to too many people, but ultimately he wanted to be able to do whatever the fuck he wanted to celebrate, no paps around. Also, it was hot and he had a pool, so he had told everyone to bring a swimsuit just in case they wanted to take a dip. Y/N had persuaded him to keep it simple and they’d ordered pizza from his favorite place and she made some a ton of margaritas for everyone to help themselves to. Jeff was left in charge of the door when Harry was late finishing getting dressed, and she could tell that he had done a fine job. The tunes were going, people were drinking, and everyone seemed happy. He had even put the album countdown that Y/N had spent two hours making that morning on the TV.

“Stay close to me, please?” Harry asked her, bending his head to whisper in her ear when they reached the group.

Y/N nodded, and Harry began happily talking to Jeff. Y/N started up a conversation with another one of the Full Stop employees who had come who she’d met at a brunch a few weeks ago, plucking some details from her brain about her boyfriend to check-in about. Then, a familiar face flashed in the crowd. “Hanna!”

Harry had suggested the idea of inviting her best friends to the party and Y/N had leapt at the idea. The prospect of having her two favorite people be there with her to celebrate her boyfriend was her idea of a perfect night. Hanna’s red hair popped up, her smile giddy from seeing Y/N. Cutting through the crowd, she quickly made it to Y/N, who wrapped her best friend up in a tight hug.

“I’m so happy you’re here,” she said. “Find it okay?”

Hanna nodded. “Security at the gate did not want to let me in though. Jamie is on his way—Cole called while he was walking out the door.” Jamie and Cole had been together for years and Y/N decided the first time she met Cole that there wasn’t anyone better for Jamie, and Jamie seemed to agree. “How are you?”

“Amazing,” Y/N replied and she truly was. She felt like she was on cloud nine right now, the energy bouncing off of Harry absorbing into every one of her pores. “Excited to finally hear it.”

“You should be.” Hanna leaned over and tapped Harry on the shoulder.

His attention shifted from some work-related conversation with Jeff quickly over to his girlfriend’s best friend. “Oh, hello Hanna,” he said, giving her a quick kiss on the cheek. “Thank you so much for coming.”

“No place I’d rather be,” Hanna replied. “Now can I steal Y/N?”

Harry’s eyes lingered on Y/N, but he gave her a warm smile. “‘Course.”

Y/N followed her best friend out onto the patio, giving hugs and saying hello to the friends of Harry’s she’d met during the past few months of them being together. Harry watched her with awe at how well she had fit into his life, she’d succeeded faster than any other girl he’d ever dated. The tidbits of information she remembered and the way she made an effort to be present in the conversations, her deep knowledge of music and the industry coming in handy. He loved having a girl at her side who knew what all of his team did without him having to explain it to her. It was small, but it made a difference to him.

“H,” Mitch said, pulling his gaze from his girlfriend back to the conversation he’d been having with Mitch, Adam, and Sarah. “You good?”

“Yeah,” he replied, taking a sip of the margaritas Y/N had made for the party. She’d slaved over them all day while he was on calls and doing interviews and he appreciated it so much. He reminded himself to tell her later when he had her alone and could tell her properly.

Sarah smiled at him knowingly. “He’s just looking at Y/N, as usual.”

Mitch and Adam chuckled, but Harry frowned. “Am I not allowed to look at my girl?”

“You are,” Adam said, “just be careful, mate. You told us about the rule, remember?”

The Rule. The goddamn rule that controlled this relationship more than he felt like he did, sometimes. He didn’t know how much Y/N thought about it at this point in their relationship, but then again it was still technically pretty early in the grand scheme of things. But for him, it was a constant reminder than their time together was fleeting, that at any point she might want to leave him, his lifestyle too hard. And it’s not that he blamed her. He just hated that it was a possibility. “I know.”

“How’s it going?” Adam pressed. Harry had been distant these past few weeks, holing himself up in the house with Y/N every chance he got when they weren’t rehearsing and he wasn’t on a call. It was hectic and he knew that his friends worried about him.

Harry took another sip of his margarita, eyes finding Y/N out on the patio laughing with Hanna, hair blowing in the wind. “Been good. She seems really happy,” he continued at the sight of her smile. “Bit nervous about tonight, if I’m being honest though.” He’d told Y/N the same thing, but the pit in his stomach still lingered. She had said she was excited, but he didn’t know how she would react to him releasing an album full of songs about his exes and flings.

They all got it though. “About which song?”

“All of ‘em,” he said nervously, and it was true. Y/N came into his life after the album was done, the idea of adding a song about her impossible. Even though he could’ve written dozens—he already had, the voice memos on his phone to prove it. Sometimes he’d sneak away to the bathroom while she slept to sing something that popped into his head, and the few that he’d shown the band they liked. It was all material for the next album, they told him. Some of them had even become full-fledged songs after a few hours locked in his office, but he hadn’t shared them yet. They still felt too raw.

Sarah reached out a hand and squeezed Harry’s shoulder. “She’ll get it, H. Her dad’s a musician, you know? If there was anyone who would understand, it would be her.”

And she was probably right. But there was a feeling in his gut that Harry couldn’t shake—that tonight wouldn’t end well for them. He’d felt it when he had woken up this morning and no matter how many time he kissed Y/N to make it go away, it lingered and it was making his brain go wild.

He hoped it was just the nerves.

The night passed quickly. There were speeches, a cake, Jeff pulled out a bottle of champagne, and Y/N had rejoined Harry at his side for the most part. And at this party, there was no question as to who she was—to everyone she was “Y/N, my girlfriend,” and Harry loved it. Particularly the look on her face that she would get every once in a while when her eyes caught his. He didn’t know what to call it, but he just knew that he felt the same way.

Before he knew it, it was 11:59 and everyone had gathered in the living room. The TV had the countdown on that Y/N had designed, the album cover with the numerical countdown over it, another bottle of champagne in Harry’s hand, ready to pop. Y/N stood a few people away from him, watching him with that look in her eyes that she’d been giving him all night that made him weak in the knees and made him curious what she would do to him when they were upstairs. He knew why Y/N was keeping her distance right now—she had mentioned it once before when they were curled up in bed after Harry asked her to be put down as a co-host for the party, that this success was his and his alone. That she was here at the end and she wanted it to be all his. She was here to support him and give him kisses after, but it was all his.

“10, 9, 8.” This was it. It was Harry’s debut album, his first solo record. It was weird for the rest of the guys to not be here when an album dropped. Usually, they were all standing together with bottles of champagne, ready to celebrate with one another.

“7, 6, 5, 4.” And Harry didn’t know which one was worse and which was better. Maybe they were both equally as wonderful, because he had other friends here to stand by his side. Jeff, Sarah, Mitch, Adam. James, floating around somewhere. His mum and sister tried to be here but Gemma got sick and Anna wanted to stay behind to take care of her.  

“3, 2,” He had Y/N. He had Y/N’s excited expression, her wide eyes and flushed cheeks, the look of pride on her face that he treasured.

“1!” But this was his, his success, his win. With the first notes of the album playing in the room, he popped the bottle of champagne and with the bubbles running down the side of the bottle, he took a long swig.

Cheers went up around him, his best friends celebrating his biggest success of his career thus far, one he’d fought long and hard for. One he was immensely proud of and he hoped he would always look back on fondly. And the sound of his album blaring in his house’s sound system—the sound of Meet Me in the Hallway, it brought him to tears.

“Aww, man,” Adam brought him into a hug, patting Harry softly on his back. “Y/N! Come here!”

Y/N was there in an instant, wrapping Harry up in her arms, his head falling onto her shoulder, sobs wracking his body as they stood there. He didn’t even care that his friends were all there witnessing him crying into his girlfriend’s shoulder, he was just so overwhelmed.

“You okay, bubs?” Y/N asked, petting the back of his head softly.

“It’s a lot,” he replied softly, trying to find the words. “Happy. But also just…”

Her hands ran up and down his back, rubbing circles. “I know, baby. You don’t need to explain, okay?”

Harry didn’t reply, just tried to find his breath and stop the tears that were welling in his eyes. And when he did, he lifted his head and his lips met Y/N’s, the sound of whoops and cat-calls breaking out around them. The middle finger that Harry raised to them all did nothing to stifle them either. “Thank you,” he said into her hair when they broke.

The feeling of her lips on his neck, a soft kiss, brought him to his knees. “Always.”

And Harry hoped it was true.

While the rest of the party swirled around her—dancing had broke out, James had started making themed drinks, his favorite being the Sign of the Times one—Y/N sat right in front of the speaker, listening to every word of the album. It was her first time hearing it and she knew Harry would probably play it for her later, but she wanted to hear it now. She wanted to hear his pride and joy, the thing that had him beaming and laughing with his friends, belting out the lyrics with Mitch and Adam in a conga line that was worming its way through the room.

And what she heard broke her heart in so many ways.

Y/N knew that music, and much of art, stemmed from pain and hurt. A good amount of it was also about love, but the songs that were some of the rawest, the ones that hit home for most people, were the ones about our darkest moments. Harry’s album was full of them. Heartbreak, heartache, regrets, addiction to people and things. It was chock full of every one of his deepest darkest secrets, especially the women who he had loved before he met her. There was a part of her that knew that he would tell her in his own time about the stories of some of these women—he had mentioned a few when she’d asked about them—and that she didn’t need to push, but there was this disgusting, self-sabotaging part of her that wanted to know every sordid detail, even though she knew it would hurt her.

This was one of the many reasons she had always told herself she would never date a musician, but more importantly that she would never fall for one. Because their relationship, their joys and pitfalls, heartache and brightest moments, it was all fodder for a song, an album, a career. It wasn’t the artist’s fault, that’s how it worked, but that didn’t make it any easier to be the person they were writing about.

Was that all she was? Another girl for Harry to write a song about?

She wanted to be happy for him, to be glowing and beaming for him, but the part of her that she hated, the part that conjured the worst possible parts of people, it was crawling out of her head. It was twisting Harry and she knew it, but that didn’t mean she didn’t believe it.

The album only lasted 40 minutes, but in those 40 minutes the party died down. People had jumped in the pool while Y/N sat by the speaker, they had finished their drinks, they had said their goodbyes, the object of the event passed. Hanna and Jamie came over and gave her hugs, concerned looks on their faces, and told her to call them if she needed anything. When she looked up, the last notes of From the Dining Table fading, it was just her left.

A light from the patio twinkled and she could see the water rippling under the moonlight. Harry.

She left the stereo silent, not cuing up another playlist, and tugged off her shoes, then her dress. Following the pull of the man who had written such a beautiful, heartbreaking, hopeful record, she walked to the patio.

“There you are.” He was floating on his back in just his boxers, which didn’t surprise Y/N in the slightest. The fairy lights they had strung up together were dim in the nighttime darkness, but just bright enough so she could see Harry and all his beauty. “Look bloody gorgeous, love.”

Y/N tucked her hair into a loose bun at the nape of her neck, knotting the hair so it stayed. “Finished the album,” she said, walking to the water’s edge.

“Yeah?” Harry swam over to her, leaning his head on her thighs that rested on the concrete that lined the pool. “What’d you think?”

She couldn’t help the heartbroken smile that graced her features, because she was too tired to lie to him. Exhausted from trying to pretend that she didn’t think about the fact that he could leave her at any moment, that the insecurities of who she was and who he was didn’t catch up to her sometimes. His fingertips brushed at her cheeks and Y/N realized she was crying.

“Y/N? What’s wrong?” He hoisted himself out of the water and hooked one of his legs around her waist, pulling her into his wet skin. It was cold against the night air, but somehow Harry was still warm to her.

“I don’t know how to say this,” she said slowly, struggling to find her words.

Fingers drifted up and down her back. “Just do your best.”

She tried not to think about the fact that she was crying on his album release day, that they were having this conversation now. One that sat in the back of her mind when she was alone and Harry couldn’t banish it. “The album is beautiful, Harry,” she started, “but it’s about a past that I wasn’t a part of.” Harry was quiet, but his arms didn’t move from their place around her, so she forged on. “I know that artists write from their experience, and that this album was done before I met you, but there’s this part of me, this horrible part that I utterly despise, that is jealous of them. The women who you wrote about. And the fact that it’s them that you’re going to sing about on stage every night. Does that make sense?”

The brush of his chin against her spine showed her that yes, he understood.

“And,” she continued, voice breaking, “I can’t stop thinking about the fact that maybe I’m going to be a song.”

“Of course you’re going to be a song,” Harry said, his voice soft and sweet.

He didn’t get it. To him, being a song was an honor, but to her, it was a threat almost. “No—it’s that I’m going to be only a song.”

The man next to her didn’t say a word. The chirp of the crickets stretched between their bodies, which were still close on the concrete floor, not a muscle moved.

“I don’t want to only be a song.” Y/N’s voice was hoarse, sobs wracking her body she didn’t expect, didn’t want. She couldn’t have this conversation if she was crying, but she couldn’t hold them in either. It was her biggest fear, the one that festered below all of the others, threatening to consume the relationship she had with a man she was falling for. And falling was the only way to describe it—without any support, a free fall that was utterly terrifying but also blissful peaceful.

Suddenly, his fingers swept across her neck, brushing against her sensitive skin. “Y/N,” he whispered, “you could never be just a song. You’re—you’re like the stars and the moon to me. In that room I could always feel you, wherever you were, and I didn’t want to be anywhere where you weren’t. And maybe this is too fast and too soon, but what I feel for you, fuck Y/N how can you not see how much you are to me?”

He pulled her head so she faced him, his eyes teary to match her own. “Do you hear me? You’re so much more than a song. You’re an album. You’re my life’s work, my masterpiece, a symphony. A song can’t contain how I feel for you, it’s just a piece of a billion I could write.”

Soft as a feather, his lips pressed to her cheeks and then up and across her forehead, over her eyelids, barely leaving a mark but a searing fire in his wake that shook Y/N’s core. “And Y/N, you’re better than a song. You’re my life. You’re here, you’re real, you’re with me. Y/N, you will never be just a song to me. You never could be. Not to me.”

Y/N rested her forehead against his, inhaling his cologne and exhaling her feelings for him. He managed to rip down all her defenses, the ones she had spent years building up, and it was frightening. But then she looked at him, the way he smiled at her, the way he kissed her, the way he said her name, and it wasn’t quite as scary. She hoped he could feel how much she cared for him in the way she kissed him, their tears blending into one as they scrambled for each other. Lips breaking and meeting, desperate for more and more and more. Her fingers gripped the back of his head, holding him to her, wanting to have his whole body imprinted on hers.

“Y/N,” he breathed, “you heard me? You understand?”

“Yes,” she replied softly, “I hear you.” She brushed her fingers through his hair gently, curling the wet strands back. “You may need to remind me sometimes.”

“Always,” he whispered, catching her kiss with his own, tugging her into him, arms around her body in a vice grip.

She lost herself in Harry, him an ocean and her a boat lost at sea. Maybe it was their conversation or the night or the alcohol flowing through their veins, but it felt different. The way he kissed her felt heavier, her moans a prayer, his fingers on his back a weight she never wanted lifted. Her legs wrapped around his waist so she was firmly in his lap, arms thrown over his shoulders, their bare bodies except for their underwear pressed against each other without a molecule of air between them.

His lips drew a line across the top of her shoulder, a fire building in her belly as his fingers fumbled with the clasp of her bra. It was a light pink she’d worn just for him and when he nudged at the strap with his nose, letting it slip from her shoulders, she didn’t care that he could barely see it. She’d show him tomorrow morning. He pulled the fabric away and bent his head, licking at one of her nipples and then the other, gasps falling from her mouth like poetry. Without meaning to, her hips rolled over his cock, the thin fabric of their underwear doing nothing to keep the heat of her center from touching his sensitive skin.

He moaned her name, the sound muffled against her neck as he sucked a love bite into the spot that made her keen every time he nipped into it. She rocked again on him, his fingers digging into her skin so hard it would leave marks tomorrow but she didn’t care. In fact, she wanted to have his marks on her tomorrow, she wanted to show the world that she wasn’t just a song, she was his, she was his girlfriend and she made him feel this way.

Hands on skin, he pressed her down onto the concrete so she was lying down, her ankles tucked around his hips, anchoring her to him. When his hips bucked into hers, she let out a sharp cry, the angle brushing her clit perfectly. “Right there?” He mumbled, nipping and tugging on her nipple, laving a circle that left her squirming against the concrete.

“Off,” she whispered, tugging at his boxers with her hands. “Wanna feel you.” With his help, they shimmied off his boxers without too much difficulty and Y/N let out a sigh of relief when she could feel his cock brush against her covered folds. Reaching a hand down, she brushed the pad of her thumb across his tip, a pained hiss flying from Harry’s throat. He was sensitive and Y/N loved it.

They didn’t have a condom, but she didn’t care. She’d been on birth control for years and she knew Harry hadn’t slept with anyone else since she found her way into his life. Plus, she needed him—she wanted to feel him, raw and bare inside of her.

They were going to have sex on the concrete next to his pool, but she didn’t care. They had had sex before and they would have sex again. She just needed him in a desperate, crawling way. When he nudged at her underwear she pressed into him, letting him pull them down her legs without a second thought.

“Condom,” Harry mumbled as she chased after his lips, open mouthed and heavy.

“It’s okay,” she said, fingers digging into his shoulder blades. “Want you like this.”

Harry’s head dropped to the space between her neck and shoulder, the groan that filled the air unlike anything she had heard before. “Gonna ruin me,” he whispered, brushing his cock against her folds. Y/N whimpered at the sensation, her fingers begging him for more, for anything she would give him. When his fingers brushed her clit, his name tumbled from her lips without abandon.

“Harry, please,” she panted, fingers deep in his hair.

That was all it took. She was so wet from the foreplay and just him that he didn’t even need to stretch her out. Her mouth fell open as he pushed inside, a mewl landing on his lips as he kissed her. Slowly, he pulled out and then back in, both of them groaning from the sensation of him being bare inside her. He felt impossibly close, every ridge and edge of him pressing against her in the most perfect way. She didn’t know if she could use condoms again, because holding Harry to her chest, arms around his shoulders as he fucked slowly, deeply, into her, her able to feel every inch of her, it was bliss on a new level. A sensation she didn’t know she was missing with him.

Her ankles hitched higher on his hips and when he pushed back in he hit a new angle, a groan ripping from his throat that set her on fire. “Can I go faster?” He said with a grunt. “I—I don’t know how much—“

“Yes,” she whimpered at his words.

He didn’t wait. He drew back and into her, pistoning his hips at a pace she couldn’t even describe, hitting that spot deep inside of her that made her eyes roll back over and over. How he managed to do that she didn’t know, but he deserved an award. Fingers grabbing at his skin in desperation for something to hold her together, Y/N gasped and exhaled his name, a plea and a beg and a prayer all in one. Her back hurt from the concrete but she didn’t care, she just wanted to finish, to feel him release deep inside of her.

Then he thumbed over her clit and she arched up, back leaving the concrete as the fire deep within her threatened to bubble over. When he start brushing circles there, Y/N gripped his shoulders like they would keep her anchored to Earth, her body possibly transcending. Harry bent his head and sucked a love bite on her breast, the puncture of skin forcing her head back, unable to keep it together.

“You close?” He asked, littering her chest with kisses, “Please tell me you are, I can’t, I can’t hold on…”

She mumbled a yes as he drove deep inside of her, swiveling his hips in a brutal way that left her hands squeezing his butt cheeks to get him to do it again. When he did, she swore she saw stars. “Gonna come,” she said, eyes searching for his lips in the low lighting. “Kiss?”

Without hesitation, he kissed her, open mouthed and dirty and sloppy and perfect. She wanted every rough-edged and sweet part of him, every kiss and press of his body against hers. “Y/N, Y/N, Y/N,” he chanted as he pressed into her again and again, her body drawing tighter and tighter. Then, he pinched her clit and she came, the ball in her tummy unravelling, hips bucking up against him as she rode out her high. Her eyes stayed trained on him as she did, not wanting to miss his face when he came inside of her.

His hips stuttered, release unloading inside of her in ropes that left him cursing like a sailor. Hair wet and sweaty, sticking to his forehead, and irises blown out, he looked beautiful. She held him close until his body settled, shaking as he came down from his high, forehead resting on the swell of her breasts.

Slowly, he rolled off of her, tugging her body into his so she wasn’t on the cold concrete anymore. He was fiery hot and it kept her warm in the cold air. “Can we never use a rubber again?” He asked softly, and she giggled, hiding her face in his neck.

“Don’t see any reason to,” she replied and he hummed with joy. Tucking her hands under her chin, she looked at him with a smile. “Congrats on your album, baby.”

He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear tenderly. “I’m so happy I shared today with you.” She kissed him softly and let him hold her close, not wanting to move even to go to bed because it meant leaving his grasp. And as much as her head told her that it wasn’t forever, she couldn’t help but hope it would be.

It had been four days since Harry had texted her. Five since he called her. Six since they FaceTimed.

He was in London for the press junket for Dunkirk and Y/N was supposed to fly out for the July 13th premiere—it was decided a month ago, the tickets booked and her time off from work already approved. But as the days stretched on and the silence grew longer, she couldn’t help but wonder if something was wrong. If she had done something wrong.

It wasn’t the first time he had been away from LA. They had a conversation about how they were going to handle distance when he travelled back in April, before the album came out and he had to fly around and do press for two weeks. That time, though, he handled it well—he called every night before she went to bed if he could, if not, he sent a long voice memo that she listened to when she woke up. They texted all day, him sending photos from dressing rooms and backstage at talk shows, even FaceTiming her so she could meet the stars he shared the nights with.

But this time was different. Since he left he had texted her just a handful of times and it was when he was at his mom’s house visiting home before press started. And then once press kicked into gear, he was gone, her texts ignored, calls not returned. She was trying not to seem desperate, but with the more time that passed the more anxious she got. It wasn’t how this was supposed to go, this wasn’t what they’d agreed on. He knew her fears, the dark thoughts that crowded in when she spent too much time worrying about their relationship, and yet he wasn’t taking the actions that helped her calm down. Even though she knew it wasn’t his responsibility to take care of her brain, it helped to know he thought about her, at the very least.

The morning before her flight was supposed to leave, she called Hanna in a panic. Her suitcases laid open on her bed, clothes scattered around her, tears streaming down her face. She had tried to call Harry again to confirm her arrival plans, only to be met with his voicemail, again.

Hi, you’ve reached Harry. I’ll give you a call back when I can!

Somehow, the sound of his voice made it worse.

“Han,” she choked out when her friend picked up, “I don’t know what to do.”

“Did he not answer?” Hanna had been counseling her through the whole thing, helping her stay calm and sane, as much as possible at least. From Y/N’s lack of response, just more sobs, Hanna knew immediately. “That prick.”

Y/N wiped a tear from her eye and looked at the ticket in her hand. Harry had forced her to accept his offer of first-class, booking her flight through his agent and everything. “Does he even want me there? Should I not go?”

Hanna was quiet, thoughts rolling through her head. “No,” she finally said. “You should go. Even if it’s just to talk to him in person. You deserve to hear it face-to-face, not by him ghosting you.”

“Even if that means I end up in London and he breaks up with me?”

“Yes,” Hanna replied softly. “But I really, really hope that is not what’s happening.”

At first it had been that he was busy, that he would text when he had time, but it had been six days. Now, both Y/N and Hanna were increasingly worried that it meant the end of their relationship and Y/N was simply not ready for that possibility. She had let Harry in—he had begged her to let him in—and he was going to end things like this? When things got hard with the distance he just…cut her out? “Can you take me to the airport?” Y/N asked, sniffling. “If you don’t I don’t think I’ll be able to force myself to go.”

“Was already planning on it,” Hanna replied. “I’ll bring snacks for the flight.”

“Love you,” Y/N told her. Hanna was her one constant, who knew Y/N better than she knew herself.

“Love you more. Now go finish packing and call me if you need me, okay?”

Y/N told her okay and hung up, her gaze shifting to her suitcase. If he was going to break up with her, then she was going to look so magnificent he would regret every second of it.

Eleven hours in the air meant plenty of time to run over her entire relationship with Harry. She had sat curled up in her seat scrolling through her camera roll and listening to Bon Iver, which was the sappiest thing possible and she didn’t care. Y/N didn’t want to break up with him and the photos and the texts and the memories proved it. Her time with Harry had been so beautifully bright, his presence in her life making so much better, from her confidence to her knowledge to her music taste. And she cared about him in a way she hadn’t let herself do—ever.

She had texted Jeff before she took off, telling him she couldn’t get a hold of Harry and asking where she should go when she landed. He replied with Harry’s Hampstead address and the door code, saying there was a key waiting for her, hidden in the garden, an apology on Harry’s behalf for how busy he had been. The words meant nothing, though, to Y/N. If Harry wanted to apologize he would have to do it in person, not through Jeff.

It was eleven by the time her Uber pulled up to Harry’s house and she thanked the driver as he tugged her luggage from the boot. She waited until he pulled away before she typed in the gate code, not wanting to reveal Harry’s security to anyone—she have been mad at him, but she still didn’t want anything happening to him. The door unlocked for her and she slid inside, shutting it quickly behind her. Pulling her suitcase behind her, she walked up the path, searching for the garden statue Jeff had told her the key was hiding under. When she found it, her fingers ran across the ridges as she made her way to the front door.

His house in LA was warm, it was the Harry she knew. But this house felt colder, the design modern, his personal affects not as visible. Although to his credit, he hadn’t been here for more than a few days in months. A few photos of Anne and Gemma were scattered through the front hall, some framed photos of his time in One Direction nestled between them.

“Harry?” She knew he wasn’t there, but the idea of walking into his house without checking felt too uncomfortable for her. She locked the door tightly behind her, typing in the security code Jeff had sent before re-arming it.

Y/N took her time exploring his house. She perused the main spaces, testing out the couches and peeking at his bookcases, studying the art lining the walls. Then she made her way upstairs to the bedrooms, running her fingers along the edges of his One Direction album plaques that lined the walls of his office, the ones from his debut still resting on the floor waiting to be hung. She found the guest bedrooms with ease and she spent a good five minutes standing on the landing deciding if she should go into his bedroom or set herself up in a guest one.

She settled on a guest bedroom. If he was going to break things off, she didn’t want to know what his bed felt like or smell his clothes or take a shower in his bathroom.

Instead, she showered in the guest bath, washing off the plane smell that lingered on her body. She dressed in shorts and a tank top, letting her hair air dry since she would have to just re-style it for the premiere later. Jeff hadn’t told her what time Harry would be back and she was ravenous, so she wandered downstairs to fix herself some lunch. To fill the silence in the house she turned on The 1975, playing the music from her laptop she had open on the counter as she cooked some pasta she had found in the cabinet. As she ate at his dining table, she tried not to think about the fact that this could be the last time she was in a space of Harry’s. The last time she sat on things he had picked out, the last time she rooted through his fridge, past his obnoxious green juices and leftovers since he hated eating out if he didn’t have to. Her fingers brushed at her eyes, trying to stop the tears that threatened to fall down her cheeks.

Reaching down for her fork to take another bite, she suddenly heard the lock click in the front door and the security system begin to beep.

He was home.

She slid her bowl away from her and turned to look at the doorway, waiting to see his face for the first time in over a week. And when he appeared, she couldn’t the return the stretched across his face at the sight of her in his house. He looked the same and somehow that was worse. In a nice shirt from interviews this morning, his hair slightly tossed from running his fingers through it, the sheen on his upper lip from the heat outside. He looked like her Harry, but she didn’t know if he was hers anymore.

“Y/N!” His voice rebounded off the walls, filling her heart with a kind of hope that was crushing.

“Hi,” was all she could muster before looking back down at her pasta. An anger rose in her, replacing the hurt that had lingered for so many days. How could he pretend like everything was okay? How could he smile at her like he hadn’t been ignoring her for days, too busy to even check and see how her flight was?

His footsteps were heavy on the hardwood floors as he made his way over to her. “Baby? What is it?”

“Do you want to break up?” She asked, her question hard compared to his kind, gentle, tentative tone.

“What?” Harry dropped into the seat caddy-corner to the chair she sat in. “What are you talking about?”

She pushed away her bowl and looked him dead in the eye. “I haven’t heard from you in days, Harry. Days. I flew halfway across the world for you and you couldn’t even manage to check-in to see if I was alive?”

He flinched at her words, eyes dropping to the table they sat at. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, words barely audible above her heart beating a mile a minute, pulsing with anger.

“That’s not going to cut it,” she told him, standing up and taking her bowl to the sink. “You fucking ghosted me like I was a girl you’d just met. We’re about to celebrate six months together. And you know what this shit does to me.”

And he did. She could see in his eyes that he knew he was in the wrong, and yet he was quiet. “I was busy.”

“So was I! But I still found two seconds to text you asking how it was going, I found fifteen minutes before bed to call you, and I kept trying even though you couldn’t even manage to reply to me. You’re not that busy, Harry.”

He stood too, walking over to where she stood in his kitchen so that he was a few paces away from her. “I was in and out of interviews from morning to night and when I wasn’t, I was with the cast who I haven’t seen in almost a year. And when I wasn’t doing that Jeff was harassing me about tour details or I was sleeping. I’m sorry if my schedule didn’t allow me to talk to you at every second of the day, Y/N, but this is a huge moment for me and I had to focus on that.” His words were measured, but she could feel the tension rising between them, words unsaid bubbling over.

“And your career is more important than our relationship.” She nodded sarcastically, wiping her wet palms on the dish towel and turning to face him. “Got it, heard loud and clear.”

“Fuck—you know it’s not!” His hand ran through his locks and down his face, struggling to get a handle on his breathing.

“Harry,” she said, trying not to yell, “I’m not going to force you to stay in a relationship that you don’t want to put the time in for. But you know exactly what I need from you—I have been very clear. You know my fears and my insecurities, and you know what triggers them. We had a plan for how to deal with this, and you completely disregarded it!” Her voice rose at the end, the fact that he couldn’t even meet her eyes pushing all of her buttons. “Fucking look at me when I talk to you!”

His eyes met hers and she didn’t see the Harry she knew, the Harry who cared for her, the soft, gentle man. Instead, she saw someone who was pissed off and hurt and grasping at straws. “I can’t dance around your fears every moment of the day,” he said, voice spitting anger. “And I’m sorry if that breaks one of your rules,” the word hitting her in the face, “but you’re going to have to get over it because I can’t spend every second of the day wondering if something I did or said has made you think I don’t care about you! You should know that I don’t want to hurt you, that of course I want to be with you!”

“Well, how am I supposed to know if you don’t tell me!” His words stabbed her right where it hurt, hitting her fears right in the heart.

Harry turned, his body facing the counter, fingers gripping the edge of the marble. He sucked in breath after breath trying to calm himself down and Y/N tried to find it within herself to have sympathy for him, but she just…couldn’t. She was so pissed off at him she couldn’t think straight.

“I’m not some girl waiting around for Harry Styles to come home, begging him to never leave me,” Y/N said. She was done. She was done with this fight, with him expecting her to be someone she wasn’t. “I’m me and I’m waiting for Harry, the person I care for so deeply it hurts—you are held to the same standards as every other guy, no matter how busy your schedule is. I should not be expected to fit into your schedule all the time. It goes both ways and you operated this week as if it was entirely my job to stay in touch with you. And I am not going to stay in a relationship like that.”

Harry’s head whipped to hers, eyes boring straight into her. “Are you saying you want to break up?”

Y/N tried to keep her head high, tried to hold back the tears. “If you’re going to do this when you’re on tour, I’m done. You know what I want—it’s the same thing I wanted from this relationship the moment I met you. You’re the only one who seems to think things have changed.” And with that, she stormed out of the room, which was probably petty but she didn’t care. She was so mad at him for his actions and his words that she couldn’t stand to be in the same room as him.

Harry didn’t follow her.

At 1 o’clock, a knock came on her door.

“If you still want to come, we have to leave for the premiere in an hour. It’s up to you.” And with that, he walked away, not even waiting for her to open the door.

She sat on the bed, considering her options. Did she go and support him anyway, pretend everything was fine? Or did she stay here—or maybe find a hotel—and leave him alone for the premiere?

He had told her how nervous he was about this. This was his first time on a movie red carpet as an actor and he was freaking out about it before he left, a ball of anxiety that she had to carefully untangle. The thought of him being up there alone pained her, despite how his hurtful words lingered in her head. That she had to get over it as if it was that simple.

The red dress she had bought for the premiere hung in the bathroom where she had left it while she showered so the wrinkles would leave the fabric. It was beautiful—a tiered taffeta skirt that cinched in at the waist, a caged bodice showing off her shoulders. When she had tried it on she had felt beautiful, powerful, as if she could take on anything and everything. She had spent a ton of money on the dress and she didn’t want to waste it.

So she got up, turning on BANKS and set about her hair and makeup in the bathroom, praising Hanna for teaching her how to do her makeup in college. She painted her lips red, in the shade that she adored wearing, and twisted up her hair into a chignon that emphasized her neck. Running her fingers along the skin she remembered when Harry had kissed it, but the love bite he had left behind was long healed. Was she asking too much of him? She wondered as she looked at herself in the mirror. Was he right, were her fears stifling him?

Then she remembered what Hanna had told her. That he wasn’t anyone different from other guys she had dated, and what she was asking from him wasn’t out of left field. Any guy she would date she would except to check in with her when he was traveling and Harry was no different, no matter what his job was.

Harry was waiting downstairs for her, probably having heard her rummaging around in the closet. When he heard her heels on the stairs, he looked up and his eyesight on her skin burned because he looked gorgeous. Maybe this was a horrible idea, she thought as she made her way towards him. She would have to touch him all night, look at him in his tailored suit, gaze into his green eyes as they were photographed on the red carpet.

“You look beautiful,” he said, words gravelly in his throat.

She stopped a few paces away from him. “Thanks.”

He fiddled with his keys, the silence stretching between them. “Thank you for coming with me. I know you have no reason to, but having you there…It means a lot.”

Instead of replying, because she didn’t have words for him, she just nodded. Because she did have a reason—even though she was mad at him, she still cared for him. Despite not wanting to, she still craved him giving her a kiss on the cheek as they walked out the door.

The drive to the red carpet was quiet, the radio playing softly in the background the only sound. They sat on either side of the backseat, Y/N staring out the window while Harry fiddled with his phone. She hadn’t been to London since she was 18 for her graduation present from her mom, and the city held warm memories for her. She wondered if that would change after today.

When they pulled up, an anxiety Y/N didn’t know she was holding started building, the sight of the photographers and the screams from the fans barricaded in. With all that had been happening, she had somehow forgotten what going to the premiere meant for her. Her eyes fell to Harry who was staring at her, trying to gauge her reaction. She had never done this before and he knew that.

“I’ll be with you the whole time,” he said, trying to calm her fears. “Promise.” It helped. At least she wouldn’t be completely alone. “Ready?” He stretched out a hand to her and she took it, letting him help her from the car.

The second her feet hit the pavement, the screams got louder. Fans with signs and their phones outstretched on either side of the wide red carpet, the word DUNKIRK in large white letters closest to the entrance to the theater. Harry’s hand gripped her as she stood, thankful for his body to help her keep balanced.

“Just smile as best you can,” he whispered in her ear as the car pulled away behind them. “And if your eyes start hurting from the flashes, just look at me, okay?”

Y/N nodded, and with his hand in hers, fingers entertained, they made their way down the carpet. He stopped a few times to take photos with fans and sign cards, but all that time he never strayed too far from Y/N’s side. With his arm securely wrapped around her waist, they stood for photos, Y/N trying to stand up as straight as she could and smile sweetly. Harry was a pro at this, a smile practiced for years, but she didn’t have the same experience. She was just a regular person who didn’t know which side was her bad side and had her eyes closed in half her photos.

The cameramen screamed questions at them, about their relationship, if they were married. They’d never quite publicly announced their relationship, Harry preferring to keep his private life private, so this was the first time they’d ever even publicly been out as a couple. And for it to be like this…Y/N hated it. She wanted to stand there and be utterly infatuated with Harry like she usually was, but this time her spine was rimrod straight, trying to keep her emotions in check. It was awkward, the way he tentatively touched her body, not wanting to overstep but also wanting to present the aura of normalcy.

Then they took a few steps and rotated to another set of cameras and Y/N understood what Harry had meant about her eyes hurting from the flashes. She turned her head to him and he found her eyes, giving her a wide smile meant just for her. Without thinking about it, her hand pressed to his suit right over his heart, the soft material of his suit jacket butter under her fingers. Then, he leaned in and pressed a kiss to her cheek, softly and sweetly and to most it wouldn’t have meant much. But to Y/N, it was the first time he had kissed her since she’d seen him. And the feeling of his lips on her skin lingered, a tingle moving through her body. Her hand gripped his back a little tighter and he just kept smiling at her, utterly entranced by her eyes.

Their bodies had betrayed them. To anyone who looked, they would have seen perfectly fine, not that they had been fighting only two hours ago. But they knew the reality, and this moment, their bodies close together and emotions running through them without being able to stop it, it made it clear that neither of them wanted to break up. They would just have to find a way to move through it.

TAGLIST

@smokeinherperfume @afire-hes @harryinsweatersandbandanas @marinalima3 @havethetimeofyourstyles @ursogoldenshan @inmygardensuit @marinalima3 @amaridon @harrys-watermelons @dontgiveupthedayjob @cronias13 @apples2019 @laula843 @afterstylesmadeit  @kait-brin @harrys-watermelons @groovybaybee @clumsywithlove93 @1142590m @erin0717 @ketchuplukehemmo​ 

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NEXT CHAPTER COMING JULY 11TH @ NOON CST

[yoondoze]

make a wish | jjk - 2

jeongguk didn’t know it, but his wish came true. as the best things in life do, it comes back around.

alternatively: a compilation of scenes in the after of “make a wish” and how they pile up and weigh you down until it’s too much to handle.

pairing: jeon jeongguk x reader

word count: 6.4k

genre: angst, fluff, romance, best friend!au, mutual pining... shh

warnings: language. besides that, this is pretty tame! only slightly edited bc its 2 in the morning and i just want to get this up lol

a/n: didn’t mean for this to be so long but i got a little carried away. this wraps up make a wish, so i hope you guys like it! also, feedback is always appreciated in any way shape or form <3 muah!

It’s just as you’re leaving when Jeongguk’s phone rings. His eyes widen in disquiet as he stares at the number displayed at the top of his phone. In preparation, he shakes out his limbs dramatically and takes a deep, exaggerated breath. Considering it’s for your entertainment, you roll your eyes and wave him on.

He picks up.

“Hello?”

The voice on the other end is muffled as you try your best to listen in. Your heart pounds in anticipation, gripping onto the straps of your purse with white knuckles.

“Yeah. Okay. Okay, great.”

He paces around the room aimlessly. His fingers fiddle with a loose thread on his sweatpants as he listens closely. You’re sure he’s already sweating, more nervous than you could imagine despite the playful act he put on before answering.

“Yeah. That’s fine! Okay, thank you so much. Alright, bye.”

He’s facing away from you as he clicks the end call button. Just as you’re about to ask, he spins on his heel, lips pursed as he holds back a grin.

“Guess who got the job?”

A toothy grin spreads across his face as he singsongs. Jeongguk’s expression of pure excitement is a privilege to see. It’s impossible to deny how it lights up your own.

“Oh my god, you got the job?”

“I got the job!”

His bangs bounce as he jumps with both fists raised in glory. You squeal, going in for a tight hug and swaying back and forth as you congratulate him.

“I’m proud of you, Gguk,” you say into his shoulder. “Really, I am.”

And when you say it, you mean it. After so many months of struggling at his old company, he took the leap and applied for a position at a more well-known film studio. The late night introduction practices with you, which included him reciting prepared resume-esque lines and weeks of tiring interviews had paid off like you knew he deserved it to.

“Okay. I should get home,” you try, voice strained as his arms crush your diaphragm like walls in a deadly escape room. Upon hearing your winded sentence, he loosens his grip.

You don’t even think about what it might mean before you place a departing kiss to Jeongguk’s cheek, fueled by the elation running through you at the upward turn of events. It’s an accident, it just happens naturally as if it was something you’ve done a thousand times. It only hits you that you shouldn’t have after it’s already done.

Sure, you make out and kiss all the time, but the difference is that’s only when you’re taking advantage of the benefits you worked out. That kissing is all attraction, nothing chaste or romantic like this. So when you pull away from the hug, you expect to see his eyebrows furrowed in confusion and giving you a look of disgust.  

“Uh-” you sputter, ever a wordsmith, trying to think of some rational explanation to excuse why you might have kissed him like that. The previous bouts of joy sparking in your heart fly out the window.

However, his eyes only show a mild, innocent surprise. At his silence, it doesn’t seem like he’s going to address it, and you assume he’ll assume it was just congratulatory. You can work with that.

“Bye. I’ll text you when I get home,” you blurt as untroubled as it can come, spinning on your heel and hurrying out the door. After closing it behind you, you slump back against it for a breath.

God, what were you thinking? Were you fucking stupid? Your fingers find your forehead finds as you try to convince yourself it wasn’t that bad. You’re prone to over analyzing, anyway. Jeongguk’s too occupied to think about it like that. He just got his new job, he has a thousand new things to worry about. He won’t read into it. If he does, he’ll think of it as a heat of the moment sort of thing.

Right?

Inside, Jeongguk pauses, staring at where you were standing just a second ago and scratches the back of his neck. The corners of his mouth turn up slowly. 

He finds himself checking his phone every five minutes for a text from you, which never comes.

☆☆☆

At the end of the day, it was your fault. 

It was your thoughtless action that made Jeongguk think that incorporating romantic gestures like that into your relationship could still be platonic. You rocked the boat with that one, but it wasn’t enough to completely capsize your vessel, and for that you were grateful. 

Still, your heart now tore itself into smaller and smaller pieces every time he kissed you goodbye or grabbed your hand to swing it back and forth or wrapped his arm around you after cleaning up. 

“By the way,” he says, tossing you one of his shirts from his place in front of his dresser. He pulls on a clean pair of boxers as you cover up. “There’s this work dinner I have to go to next week for networking and stuff, and it’s a buffet-type thing so they charge you for a spot. But, I found out that there is a couple’s discount and was wondering if maybe… you’d want to come with me?”

The hopeful sparkle in his eyes is one you just can’t ignore. Doing so would feel like a one-way ticket to hell, the only valid consequence for such a rotten crime.

“Yeah, sure.”

His smile at your compliance takes away all the apprehension you might have had, at least for a second. He wears it like a medal.

“Okay, good. I have to talk to a lot of people so I’d just feel better if you were there.”

Your brows draw together as you watch him get dressed. “But Gguk, you’re good at talking to people,” you say, going as far as to admit teasingly, “You’re fairly charming.”

He laughs, hopping into his slacks. “Yeah, but that doesn’t mean I don’t freak out inside. It’s scary!” The dark brown mop of hair atop his head jostles into his eyes as he adds, “There’s gonna be a lot of well-known people there so it’s my chance to make some connections.”

Despite that, you’re sure he’ll be just fine. By nature, Jeongguk is inviting and easy to talk to. That is one of the reasons why you became such fast friends, and probably why you lasted so long. Along with his agreeable presence, his captivating looks probably wouldn’t hurt in striking up a deal either, though you’d never say that to his face.

“What’s the dress code?”

“Semi-formal I think?” He says, looking out of the corner of his eye. “I don’t know what that constitutes in terms of dresses but…”

A certain memory tugs at the back of his head. He considers just leaving it there, maybe slightly sentimental for his usual image, but what’s the harm in bringing it up?

“Do you remember the dress you wore for my brother’s graduation dinner? The blue one?”

You, on the other hand, are just surprised he remembers something like that. It must have been years ago by now. Still, it’s a good memory. It was a breezy evening by the shore to celebrate his brother’s graduation from college. The dinner was nice, but the best part was when you and Jeongguk ended up sneaking off to go sit on the beach later on in the night.  

Jeongguk is intertwined into nearly every lasting memory you make. It’s hard to imagine a world where he isn’t a part of each story you retell or each thought that crosses your mind.

“Oh, yeah, of course. It’s probably buried in my closet somewhere.” 

He’s relieved you don’t question him.

You might have to do some digging when you get home to find it, but you definitely still have it. It’s not like you have the money to be purchasing new semi-formal dresses for every occasion.

“That would be good. Or something like it, I don’t know.” He finishes buttoning up his shirt and tugs on the cuffs to straighten them out. His reflection in the mirror sends you a beaming smile, at this point accepting how his heart rate seems to spike every time he sees you in one of his shirts nowadays. He’s gotten very good at lending them to you casually.

He continues after a glance at the clock tells him he’s been letting his time with you slip on for more time than he can afford even though he wishes he could stay. “Anyway, I have to get going so make sure you lock the door behind you when you leave.” And then he’s padding out the door, car keys jingling in his hand as he picks them up from the dish on the kitchen counter.

“Oh, and Y/N?” He pokes his head around the hallway entrance to see you. “There’s coffee out here for you when you want it.”

He dashes off before you have the chance to react or even say thank you, a sheepish grin tugging at his features as he walks to his car. When you go out to see, it’s already made with cream and sugar, just the way you like.

☆☆☆

“You look really pretty tonight, Y/N,” Jeongguk says, voice soft as ever, eyeing your dress as you step out of the car. “Seriously, I mean it.” The heels you wear click evenly like a metronome’s beat on the pavement as you walk around to join him at his side.

You ignore the heat in your cheeks, rather offering an endearing grin as you grip the clutch in your hand. “You too, Gguk. You’ll do great tonight. I wouldn’t be surprised if you made everyone here fall for you while you’re at it.”

His initial thought is to ask if that includes you, but his better judgment tells him it’s too bold. Instead, he just laughs and hands his car keys to the valet.

The dinner is a week later at a stunning three-floor, dimly lit fine dining restaurant decorated with dark hardwood and intricate chandeliers that make the soreness in your neck seem worth it while observing them.

Jeongguk cleans up nice, and even though you’ve already known this for a long time, you consider it a treat since this attire rarely, if ever, sees the light of day. 

He props out his elbow and nudges for you to take it, which you so graciously do. Together you walk to the glass doors, through which you can see the party has just started. You can already hear the muffled music and chatter in the background.

“By the way,” he says, leaning down to your ear, like what he’s about to tell you is no big deal. “I… might have told my coworkers that we’re engaged-”

“Engaged!?” you whisper, eyes wide and staring at him incredulously. 

So maybe he should have told you earlier. In his defense, he needed the extra time to produce an irrefutable excuse. In the end, it was only sort of reasonable, but he was hoping you would just roll with it. Isn’t that what the two of you always did?

“I know, I know! But listen. It just makes more sense in terms of you being my plus one and it also makes me seem like I have my shit together. And it’s always good for me to seem like I have my shit together, right?”

You sigh, narrowing your line of sight at him. “Okay. What do I do if someone asks why I’m not wearing my ring then?”

He mutters, “Oh, yeah.” Then he’s fishing through his side pocket and out comes a shiny silver ring with a small diamond placed into the center, held so flippant between his fingertips. “It’s my grandma’s. Borrowed it from home for this weekend.”

His heart pounds. Was that smooth enough? He has a lot of talents, but he isn’t sure if this was one of them just yet. Jeongguk tenses as he waits for your reaction. Best case scenario, his carefree attitude about it will rub off onto you.

“I figured it’d fit you,” he adds.

When it slides on perfectly, you know there’s no going back. Yet somehow, it is completely in character of him. You should have expected something like this because Jeongguk always has and always will be a man of spontaneity.

You’ll have to ask him how he knows your ring size sometime.

Inside, he introduces you to his coworkers. There are too many to remember but you catch a few here and there that you recall him talking about before, like Namjoon, the diligent Production Assistant and Taehyung, another member of the crew who he often eats lunch with. It’s an initial blur of faces and few-worded exchanges before you can take a breather off to the side.

“Not bad?” he asks, his thumb tracing circles over your knuckles. The way it makes your heart flutter is addictive. He has you in his palm and he doesn’t even know it. Unfortunately, you don’t know if it’s something you can give up yet, not without it being messy.

There’s a short line behind a board that displays the seating arrangement, and though it’s moving quickly, it allows you a moment of space from the other guests.

A tired smile pulls at your lips. “Not bad.” You squeeze his hand in yours.

The people in front of you move from the board into the dining hall so both of you can inch up. Jeongguk’s eyes trace the small handwriting, eventually spotting the two of you in the far corner of the room.

Dinner goes well, and Jeongguk does the most of the talking. It’s nice to see him so bright as he laughs with his coworkers. It’s that part of him that he’s had since he was a kid, the part that made him fit in so naturally and charm every person around him. Seeing it out in the open and no longer repressed from emotional baggage is heartwarming. Compared to a few months ago, you might not recognize him at all.

After a while, Jeongguk wipes his mouth with his napkin and pushes his chair out from the table. “Alright, I’m gonna head to the bar lounge for a little while and see who I can talk to. Are you gonna be fine on your own?”

He’s nervous, you can tell. By the way his eyes dart around the room, the way he’s biting the inside of his bottom lip. 

“Yeah, go ahead,” you nod, taking a sip of water. “I’ll just stick around here.”

He gives himself a once over and wipes his palms on his slacks.

You tap his shoulder, bringing him down so you can whisper to him a small, “You’ll do great.”

He pulls back with a shy, one-sided smile. “Thank you. I hope so. Text me if you need anything.” Effortlessly, he plants a chaste kiss to your cheekbone that has your face ablaze and excuses himself from the table. The feeling of his lips on your skin sticks well after he’s gone.

Ryujin, the script supervisor, puts down her drink with a roll of her eyes. “Finally, all the boys are gone. I’ve been trying to talk to you the entire time but he’s always butting in!”

It pulls a laugh from you. “No, no, he’s just trying to help,” you explain, “I’m new to everyone here so he just doesn’t want me to feel awkward.”

“Yada yada,” says a bubbly Chaeryoung, a PA, waving it off with her hand. “I expected him to be protective with how much he talks about you, but wow. It’s cute though. Sometimes I wish I had someone like that.”

“Yeah, I’m really lucky,” you nod, reminded that you’re just pretending. You’re lucky, but not that lucky. “But… wait, what kind of stuff does he say about me?”

Ryujin chortles at your worry. “Oh, only good things. Just stuff you do together, jokes, those kinds of things. You’re involved in a lot of stories in some way or another.”

“Like, “This one time in high school, Y/N and I got in a fight...” or “Last week, we went to this new brunch spot and Y/N got this sandwich…’” Chaeryoung clarifies, but it only makes you want to pry further.

As she says it, both of the memories come floating back clear as day. You can’t remember what exactly you argued over, but it had been when you were paired as partners in a history class. The sandwich, you recall, was heaven on earth. The images are picture-perfect despite how they’d been buried.

The fact that Chaeryoung remembered things you didn’t is mildly startling, but you’re more surprised that Jeongguk shared so much. Not that it’s an issue, you just didn’t think you’d find yourself being perceived by so many people you had no prior knowledge of. The idea of him spilling your high school gossip fits like a puzzle to his persona, but the thought never occurred to you that he might think about you when you’re not there.

But you won’t let yourself become too optimistic.

“Yeah,” you laugh, “I think it’s different since we grew up together as family friends. He’s in a lot of my stories, too.”

“Ugh, that’s cute,” Ryujin sighs. If only. “So when did you start liking each other? Or start dating?”

You take a deep breath as if you’re looking back on the day when in reality you’re just trying to come up with the most believable love story you can manage. It’s also your most ideal. Maybe if your current situation went the way you wanted.

“I think we liked each other at different times over the years. Y’know, I liked him when we were kids, he liked me when we were teenagers, kind of on and off like that. But sometime after college, I think the cycle lined up once and for all and…“

Do you think you could manifest it by speaking it into existence?

“...here we are.”

That thought was stupid. You make yourself forget about it. Stop with the hope, remember?

When you finish your spiel, you think you’ve finally made it in the clear. Until another question comes.

“So what was your first date like? Was it weird?”

You know they’re just trying to make conversation, but god, you’re not ready for this. You’re preoccupied with other problems. If only they knew how your brain was short-circuiting in an effort to think up an explanation that will make you sound versed and most importantly, convincing. You go with what you wish had happened. 

“Um, a little bit, but since we had been close friends for such a long time, I think we had that mutual understanding of how things were so we could laugh about it. We just…” you say, shaking your head along, lips pursing as your train of thought rolls through the detailed daydream you know so well. “...went out to dinner one night... and it was sort of a process to transition to something more romantic, I guess, but it just kind of happened.”

But it feels nice to be Jeongguk’s girl. Even if you’re just playing a part. If you sink yourself into the atmosphere, tune into the clinking of the glasses, and the relaxing jazz in the background, you can pretend you’re really engaged and sharing your love story to whoever will listen.

Would it hurt too much to hold out on it one day become reality?

“I’m always so happy when the company hosts these events,” Chaeryoung comments, leaning back in her chair to take in the room. “It’s the only time I can come to a place like this since you know I can’t afford it with my own money.” A small talk sort of laugh bubbles up from her as she says it. There is an inkling of confusion that strikes you at her words, but you think you’ll just brush it off for the sake of being casual.

Ryujin looks to you as she adds, “And they even let you bring a plus one for free! You know, I was thinking of bringing my boyfriend, but I just felt like it might have been too soon…”

Your brows furrow as you recall the conversation with Jeongguk. Didn’t he say that it was a pay per guest scenario?

“So the company pays for these dinners?” you ask out of pure curiosity and with no hint of suspicion weaved in your tone.

“Yeah!” says Chaeryoung. “It’s all from the company’s budget since this is technically a networking event. Usually, people swap ideas or come up with deals that turn into projects a couple of weeks down the line.”

You nod along as she explains eagerly, but all you can hear is that there never was a price to pay to begin with, and more importantly meaning that there never was a discount. Not one that Jeongguk needed you around for. 

But why would he lie? 

Maybe Jeongguk was embarrassed asking for your company or didn’t want his ego bruised by telling you it was free and he wouldn’t have to pay for you. It’s the benefit of the doubt for your best friend (and love of your life, but that’s a separate issue) that makes it your first thought. In reality, thinking about the boy you know, it doesn’t make sense. At this point, he shouldn’t have to feel like that when it comes to you. 

Whatever the case may be, you hope that he knows he’d never need an excuse to invite you somewhere. It’s not like you’d ever refuse. You’d never refuse him, not in any life.

☆☆☆

It’s the middle of the night when another bad dream jolts you awake with a pounding heartbeat. Your eyes flutter open, brimmed with tears, to reveal that the moon is still high in the sky above the towering buildings, and a shift to the side facing the nightstand lets you know you have another three hours before you have to start your day and leave Jeongguk’s apartment.

The last few weeks, the dreams have been growing more and more common. Not enough for you to dread going to sleep just yet, but definitely something you’re quickly getting sick of. At this point, you’re tired of going to sleep just to wake up freaked out in a cold sweat. You chalk it up to the stress piling on you, not only that of regular adult life but that of your messy relationship with your best friend.

How ironic that must be, considering the whole reason it started was to relieve stress when now it’s your main source.

You empty your lungs with a shaky sigh and slide to the edge of the bed, intending to fetch a glass of water to calm yourself down. Before you can reach your feet, Jeongguk’s arm catches you at your waist, and then you’re being reeled back under the covers.

“Easy,” he mumbles, his voice grainy and low from sleep, “You’re fine. Talk to me.”

You swallow thickly, the scenes from your subconscious flashing back to you. “Um, that’s alright. Not a big deal.”

You wish he’ll just leave it at that and fall back asleep like he usually does. When his breathing steadies, you think you’re in the clear, but you are horribly mistaken when he yawns and adds, “You’ve been having a lot of nightmares recently.”

Is it another prompt for you to talk? You’re not sure what to say. 

In fact, you’re never sure what to say anymore. Never sure what’s too much, what’s too little, what the difference is between what you say and what you mean. The line blurred months ago and now you’re wandering blind.

You’d enjoy moments like this if it wasn’t for the stark fact that the person you’re with doesn’t love you like you love him. 

 “Yeah…” you agree. Right now, your chest is heavy and not strong enough to support a conversation. You hope that he’s not too drowsy to take the hint.

A small sound from him makes it seem like another sleepy sentence is in the works, but fortunately, the tension in your chest begins to fade when nothing comes out. His hair shuffles against the pillow and he presses a featherlight kiss to the back of your neck, lips lingering there for a second too long before he sinks back into his position.

When you’re sure he’s slipped under the veil of slumber again, you carefully slide out of his grasp and squeeze into your own space at the edge of the bed. You don’t know how much longer you can last like this.

☆☆☆

“She texted me.”

The sentence makes you stop chewing. Your movements stop aside from an absent blinking, gears spinning overtime to process it.

“She uh, she wants to meet up,” he tacks on. “I think I should go.”

“Why would you do that?”

Jeongguk slowly twists the pasta around his fork, taking a blatant newfound interest in his dinner. He takes a deep breath, but when he opens his mouth, the words catch in his throat.

“I don’t know. I think we need to talk about what happened.”

You scoff, and he takes an immediate offense to it. His eyebrows knit together as a wounded expression takes form on his features.

“What happened? Gguk, she dumped you because you were going through a hard time and she didn’t want to ‘deal’ with it.”

It’s not just you playing the protective best friend role and trying to talk sense into him. It’s not jealousy, either. And sure, maybe you never liked her to begin with, but for good reason. She ended up doing exactly what you thought she would - shattering his heart into a million pieces and leaving it for someone else to pick up the pieces. And considering that’s been you on a multitude of occasions, you think your point of view is valid.

“Listen, I don’t blame her… That can be really hard on someone.”

“So it’s okay for them to just pop in out of the blue, say they can’t handle your emotional issues and bounce? Someone who they claimed to love for over a year and a half? Someone who they were thinking about marrying?”

Jeongguk purses his lips as you speak, a hefty exhale coming through his nose in frustration.

“I just miss her sometimes!”

And you really wish Jeongguk would love you back, but we can’t all get our way, can we?

Not to throw yourself a pity party, though. It’s not like he owes you anything for what you do because you brought it on yourself. He doesn’t control your feelings, even when you want to blame the nerve he has for smiling because it makes you get all jittery. 

“She doesn’t even give a shit about me anymore! She’s out with other guys, doing all this shit, posting it everywhere. I… I loved her so bad and she acts like she has no clue.”

You give him pep talks when he’s about to go out with someone else. You comfort him when he’s distraught over someone else. You love him when he loves someone else. 

And then-

“You don’t know what that’s like.”

You freeze. Your heart leaps to your throat, closing the gate on your lungs until you forcibly open them again as subtle as possible. A stinging feeling you know all too well burns in your eyes as you try to hold back. Jeongguk doesn’t notice in the slightest as his gaze is still fixated on his food.

Your initial reaction is anger. All you want to do is yell, tell him wrong, tell him that you know it all too well because you love him and he’s pathetically oblivious whether by his nature or by choice. Everything you want to say, shouts and confessions, float across your mind and bounce around the walls as each one brings you further to opening your mouth and letting them spill. Then you just want to cry.

But you won’t do any of that. Your situation won’t allow it, not if you want to risk losing him. It’s not a risk you’re willing to take, even if it means suffering in it by yourself and letting the irony of his words go unrealized.

“Yeah, you’re right,” you sigh, the fork gripped by your white knuckles tapping mindlessly against the side of the bowl as you swallow the feeling back down. Your hand comes up to scratch at the corner of your eye, wiping away the wetness beginning to pool composedly so he won’t notice.

“I don’t.”

☆☆☆

It’s on a Tuesday evening a couple of weeks in the future when you next see him. 

Maybe more than a couple. Maybe a few. Maybe too many. Just enough for his tone to turn to something more confrontational than just casual when he sends you a text saying that he wants to see you again. Particularly when he specified that no, he needed to see you again.

He suggests the park by the river. You’ve been there a few times with him for lunches and to hang out, but the energy is different this time around. Both of you know why you’re here, even though you never thought you’d have to be. 

For a while, you didn’t want to make things weird, so you’d come over when he’d ask and leave as soon as you could in an attempt to curb the damage on your heart. It wasn’t until three weeks ago that you actively started flaking on him. You’d let his calls ring until he hung up or left a message and say you were busy when there was absolutely nothing going on. 

He stopped by your apartment at one point, too. You were freaking out after he texted you he’d be visiting, pacing around and wondering what to do, what to respond, if to respond at all. The knock at your door came sooner than you expected. Before you were about to pull it open and face what you’d been so casual about denying for so long, it occurred to you: You could simply not open the door.

So you waited. He knocked a few more times, sighing so loud you could hear through the door. He called out your name softly, as if he knew you were right on the other side. He stayed for a few more minutes. Then came the sound of his footsteps padding away. You were safe for another day, but the awful feeling stuck in your chest for days.

It stuck in his, too. He knew he should have never gone that far, never said anything that night, but he also wondered if he could have done it any other way. Standing at your door and having to face the fact that you were undeniably steering clear of him, because of him, was a nightmare. It was stupid of him, but you’d see past it - wouldn’t you?

And now you’re seeing him live and in person for the first time in god knows how long. It’s a foreign feeling you’ve never felt with Jeongguk before, and you hate it. It’s been long enough for the sense of familiarity to fade, or at least be buried by time. 

Is this how a comet feels when it passes earth again after so many years apart? Does it feel new every time seeing how things have changed, or are they old friends who pick up where they left off?

“ So… what’s been going on with you?” Jeongguk asks nonchalantly, leaning back on his elbows and shaking the hair out of his eyes. “It’s been a while.”

“Uhh, I don’t know,” you shrug, vision focused on the calm waters in front of you. You tug at the grass under your fingertips, loosely hugging your knees to your chest as you sit beside him. “Not much I guess. Just work as usual, you know.”

“Yeah, but how are you?” he presses, trying to find your eyes as you avoid his.

He knew something was wrong from the evident distance and your attitude, but he didn’t think it’d be this bad. He didn’t think he’d fucked up this bad.

Your laugh is awkward and forced. “I’ve been fine. Been good.”

Thinking about the past few weeks, it’s not hard to remember but incredibly hard to grasp. It’s the same moments over and over, sourced from a lonely routine. Day by day spending time with yourself, missing Jeongguk, thinking about texting him but never doing it. Wash, rinse, repeat.

His face turns from you and you miss it the second you can’t see it. The feeling is off and both of you know it. He sucks his lower lip into his mouth, biting at it as he thinks of what to say. If the wrong thing comes out, he’s worried he’ll chase you even further away. It took so much to even get you here.

“Listen, can I be honest with you?” he says.

Honesty is the best policy, isn’t it? He’s tired of beating around the bush. The two of you know so much more than bland small talk.

“Sure.”

He takes a deep breath. “I always thought that nothing could ever be uncomfortable with you and me. Like we could be straightforward and blunt without it being weird. But things right now are really weird and I don’t know what happened. You’re avoiding me and you don’t want to see me. It’s not like it used to be.”

Your nails scrape beneath each other, entangled in your lap. Clearly things aren’t the same, but you don’t have the energy to be snarky. There are so many things to address and you’re ignorant on where to start.

“I know there wasn’t a discount for the work dinner.”

He nods, looking out over the river. “Yeah, figured.”

“So why’d you lie?”

It’s his turn to shrug. “I just wanted you there and I didn’t know how to ask you. I… was starting to feel the shift and I wasn’t sure what to do about it. Saying that just gave me an excuse to take any of the weight off.”

He adds quietly, “Your turn.”

“Gguk,” you start, shaking your head as you try to find the right words. You think of the kiss, the dinner, the ring, the argument.

“We act like a couple. We do things couples do. We pretend we’re a couple. But... we aren’t a couple.”

He’s silent. He knows where you’re going. He knew it before you even got here because if you didn’t bring it up first, he would have.

“I think you already know what’s going on, but if you need it spelled out for you, I kinda caught feelings for you. And then you give me your grandmother’s wedding ring and tell me you love me and it hurts so fucking bad because I know you don’t mean it like that. Not the way I wish you did.”

The words dissipate into the fresh evening air, soon filled by delicate chirps and birdsongs. Distant laughter floats around the park, with muffled ferry horns layered behind it all.

“How do you know?”

Your hand pauses, chlorophyll green blades pulled taut between your fingers. No fucking way.

“What?”

He scratches the back of his neck before locking his eyes with yours. “How do you know... that I don’t mean it like that?”

He’s not playing with you, is he? No, he wouldn’t. You respond slightly confused, hesitant to lean into his words just yet.

“Are you saying that you do?”

He laughs and it makes your chest feel like it might burst open. “You’re kidding, right? I’ve been saying it. I mean, I thought I was being obvious.”

You suppress the excitement bubbling in your stomach for a second longer to throw him a questionable expression with an extended palm for emphasis. “You told me you wanted to go see your ex-girlfriend and were talking about how you loved her.”

He exhales through his teeth as he squints at you. “Yeah, that went a little far...”

“Only a little?”

“I’m apologizing, so let me, please?” He says, eyes wide with a small smile tweaking up at his lips. “It was stupid. I wanted to see what you would say or if you would get jealous. ‘Cause I thought you might have felt the same and at the time that was the only thing I could think of doing.”

Your expression falls.

“Wait, so did you actually meet up with her?”

“No, no!” He exclaims, rushing to refute such a bizarre idea. “Yes, she texted me, but I said no. Everything you said was right, so… it wasn’t worth it.”

He thinks he’s done, until he sees your stare still lingering on him. What’d he miss? He flops over on his stomach, elbows in the grass as his chin rests on his palms to look at you.

“You also said I didn’t know what it was like to love someone who didn’t love me back.”

A cheeky grin grows on him. “Okay... but technically you don’t because I loved you back the whole time.” One of his arms lowers to the ground, his fingers finding your own. He weaves them together with an affectionate squeeze. “You just didn’t know.”

The way your heart flutters is different this time. Gone are the tiring nerves and teary eyes and the weight of stress on your shoulders. It’s a comfortable sort of excitement, one that you’re in love with almost as much as you are with the boy himself.

“Since when?” you ask shyly, feeling the tingle in your cheeks. 

It’s a relief to have Jeongguk back. A life without him wouldn’t be one you could ever get used to. 

He was there at the start, he’s here now, and he will be here for as long as he possibly can. When it comes to you, there’s no doubt. He’s yours every time.      

His deep brown eyes sparkle under the setting sun, golden and glowing, as he makes a point to find your own. Tone dulcet and tender, he says it like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“Since always.”

[kuiinncedes]

guess who keeps writing random quinntina drabbles in completely unrelated aus and refusing to expand on any of them :D so yeah i wrote a shadowhunters!quinn and tina thing (that i actually might expand on bc i was working on a klaine shadowhunter thing and it’s not super different or anything ANYWAY) idk if i need to explain shit to make it easier to understand or anything but here’s some explanations :P

shadowhunters = demon killers born with angel blood, they draw runes on themselves to do things like heal or give extra agility, strength, etc. also shadowhunters usually have compound last names it’s a whole thing but i kept their last names anyway it doesn’t matter lmao

iratze = healing rune, when a shadowhunter uses one it heals them :P

parabatai = platonically bonded shadowhunters basically, and runes given to someone by their parabatai are sometimes more powerful

Behemoth demons = gross slimy demons with like a giant mouth or something and they’re really hard to kill bc they reform and stuff lol

witchlight = a stone that shadowhunters can use that lights up when they hold it

and i think that’s it, if anyone reads this lol and is confused about any of the shadowhunter aspects feel free to ask me about it :P

also kinda took some things from this prompt list that came across my dash - “you’re bleeding” and “There’s people chasing us and I pulled you into the alley with me and wow your close.” idk it doesn’t really stick to that tho

oh but yeah that means there’s description of blood and stuff not a lot at all and it’s not graphic or anything but yeah just fyi :3 

ANYWAY YEAH I KINDA REALLY LIKE THIS LDFJSLFJ maybe one day i’ll stop adding this random stuff at the beginning of the ficlets i post lol

---

“You’re bleeding.”

“News flash, Fabray, we’re Shadowhunters. It happens.” Tina rolls her eyes, then returns to scanning the surroundings for the Croucher demons that just disappeared. “I can’t believe I got stuck on a patrol with you,” she grumbles.

Quinn scoffs. “I’m not too happy about it either, hon.” She rubs her forearm, bare to the chill of the night air, and examines the wound on Tina’s leg, as best as she can given the distance between them. The blood has already soaked through her gear, the material itself slashed viciously halfway up her thigh. “Let me give you an iratze, at least. It looks bad,” she says, trying to keep the biting in her tone to a minimum. It’s hard, though, around Tina. She thinks she at least succeeds at not sounding like she’s actually going to kill Tina if she gets close.

Tina looks at her with an indecipherable expression, somehow different than the contempt and anger that she usually directs at Quinn. “It’s fine, we don’t have time for that. Mercedes can do it when we get back.” Tina seems to swallow, then looks away. “You know, being my parabatai, it’ll be a lot better than anything you could do.” The insult doesn’t carry half the heat of anything Tina usually says to her, which confuses Quinn. But she doesn’t have time to think on it when Tina’s eyes widen at some point behind her and Quinn whirls around with her seraph blade to meet the dark face of a demon, Tina coming up beside her, stabbing one demon and effectively causing another to vanish with a perfectly-thrown dagger.

Try as she might, Quinn can’t ignore just how insanely good of a Shadowhunter Tina Cohen-Chang is. And it annoys the fuck out of her.

Together they easily kill the demons in the group -- Croucher demons are not the brightest by far -- and Tina is retrieving a dagger from the ground when Quinn sees them. 

Three Behemoth demons, moving sluggishly, and not towards them, but they are going to have to take care of them. 

“What the fuck are Behemoth demons doing in a group…?” Quinn mumbles. They need help for this; no matter how exceptional of a Shadowhunter Tina is, and although Quinn is far from bad herself, two Shadowhunters can’t take on three Behemoth demons. 

“Fuck,” Tina whispers, coming up beside Quinn again. She can’t help but notice how Tina’s dark hair has fallen out of her bun a little, messy strands surrounding her face but of course she still looks so good --

“How do you feel about Behemoths, Fabray?” Tina says quietly, her tone challenging. They’re still just watching the demons, who haven’t done anything yet and have given no indication that they’ve noticed the two Shadowhunters.

Quinn scowls, “Hate them.” Which is an understatement. She and Kurt had a terrible experience with one a few years ago and she prefers not to think about it.

Tina nods. “Same.”

Of course, one of the demons finally turns their way and spots them. “Fuck, we gotta run,” Quinn hisses. She can already see that the demons are dispersing their slimy, disgusting bodies -- she really doesn’t like Behemoths -- to reform somewhere else, no doubt somewhere significantly closer to where they’re standing --

Or behind them. Quinn is yanked sideways by Tina and they sprint down a small road, dark but for the dim street lights reflecting off the wet asphalt.

It doesn’t take long for Quinn to notice something is wrong. She hasn’t patrolled with Tina before, but she’s trained with her, she knows Tina is somewhat faster than her. So why isn’t Tina way ahead of her right now… 

Quinn spares a glance over and right, her leg. Before Quinn can think about it, she’s pulling Tina into a small alley off the side of the road. 

“Shit,” Tina breathes, clenching her jaw and leaning against the wall in this really very narrow alley, they barely have enough space for the two of them, each against one of the walls -- 

Quinn looks at the wound on Tina’s thigh and hisses, “You idiot. You should’ve let me put a damn iratze on you, or you should’ve done it yourself, Angel’s sake -- ”

A Behemoth slides past, dispersing and quickly reforming further up the alley. The other two follow close behind. Quinn presses herself into the shadows of the alley, lessens her breath and tries to force her heart to stop pounding so loudly. She doesn’t think Behemoths have a sense of smell, she’s never learned that, but if they do, she and Tina are screwed and she will need to have a little chat with her demons instructor Will Schuester because this would not be a good time to find that out.

The demons pass. Quinn lets out a slow breath. 

“Lost my stele.” Tina’s breath is coming in shallow gasps; Quinn can tell she’s trying to minimize the sound. The gash on her thigh is way deeper and longer than Quinn realized. It’s hard to see anything with the lack of light in the alley and lack of contrast between Tina’s blood on her skin and the black gear she’s wearing.

“Fuck, do you have a witchlight?” Quinn asks. 

“No.” Tina’s muscles are tight and her body is wound. “It doesn’t matter right now. Call the Institute, we need someone to get rid of those Behemoths.”

Quinn wants to argue, wants to ask Tina if she’s seen her leg, but Tina’s right, infuriatingly. She quickly presses the number for her parabatai on her phone while Tina closes her eyes, resting her head against the brick wall, seemingly trying to calm her breathing.

“Quinn!” Kurt exclaims when he picks up. “What happened? Mercedes said she felt something happen to Tina and you guys have been out longer than you’re supposed to -- ”

“We’re fine,” Quinn interrupts. “Tina’s mostly fine, just a nice cut from a Croucher. We ran into some Behemoths though, need someone to take care of them.”

Kurt groans. “Of course you guys ran into Behemoths.” There’s some faint talking in the background -- Quinn can make out Mercedes demanding to know where her parabatai is, some other voices chime in that she can’t recognize. “Okay, luckily Mike’s here and he can go try to magic them away or whatever he does. Beiste is going with him. Mercedes and I will meet up with you and Tina. Send me your guys’ patrol location.”

“Don’t you know it?”

“Yes, but send it to me anyway,” Kurt says, exasperated, but Quinn can tell he doesn’t really mean it. “Okay? Be careful.”

“Always am.” She ends the call and shoves her phone back into her pocket. Then she remembers Tina, who’s sitting against the wall, legs stretched out in front of her and looking exhausted. 

“Here,” she says, finding her stele and holding it out to her. Tina gives her a half-smile and accepts it. She rolls up her jacket sleeve to draw the rune on her forearm, flowing black lines of the iratze stark against her skin in the dim light. 

“Kurt and Mercedes are coming,” Quinn says. “And Mike and Beiste for the demons.”

“Good, saves me from more time with you,” Tina mumbles halfheartedly.

Quinn rolls her eyes. “Let me help,” she says, kneeling down and reaching for her stele. “It will work better closer to the heart -- ”

“I’m fine,” Tina says hurriedly, leaning away from Quinn slightly. Quinn ignores the slight disappointment she feels at that and exclaims, “Are you serious? Your leg is still pouring blood, you can see that, right?”

Tina swallows. “I don’t want you that close to me.” Her voice is resigned, quiet and Quinn can barely hear her.

“Again, are you serious? What the fuck did I ever do to you?” Quinn knows she shouldn’t be getting angry, especially when they don’t know how far the demons are and they could hear her raised voice -- can Behemoth demons hear? Mr. Schue really didn’t do a great job in their demon education -- and come back to finish them off.

“Quinn, just… just don’t.” Tina rolls her stele back towards her. “Thanks for the stele.”

“No, I want to know! I want to know what the fuck I did to make you treat me like this, because I sure didn’t ask for it.” Quinn is seething now, unable to stop even if she tried. “When we were kids you were okay, but ever since the Shadowhunter Academy you’ve been such an asshole to me, and now you can’t even let me near you to help you, to put a fucking iratze on you -- ”

“I have feelings for you!” Tina yells, effectively shutting Quinn up. Quinn looks down at her in surprise. 

“What -- ?”

Tina puts her head in her hands, running them through her hair and pulling out her bun, her shining black hair spilling across her shoulders. “I… can’t let you near me because… I’m scared,” she says softly to her boots. “I’m scared of what my feelings mean when you get close to me and I want to kiss you so fucking badly... I want to be with you. I -- I realized that at the Shadowhunter Academy when I saw other girls kiss each other and I just,” she shakes her head. “I realized I want to do that with you. And I know there’s no chance for that, I get it. But that’s why I’ve been... mean.”

Quinn stares at Tina, jaw dropped open. Tina meets her gaze for a moment, then averts her eyes and smirks slightly, sadly. “It’s fine, Fabray. I’ll stop being an asshole and you don’t have to talk to me again. Except, you know, when Kurt and Mercedes want us all to hang out, but I’ll stay away.”

Quinn wants to say something -- wants to say no, I don’t want that, when the alley floods with light and she turns to see Kurt and Mercedes, the light coming from a witchlight stone in Kurt’s hand. 

“You know,” he says, smiling, “you could’ve come out after the demons left, would’ve made it easier for us to find you.”

-

Quinn makes her way through the unfamiliar halls of the Columbus Institute. She has a vague sense of where she’s going but she doesn’t live at the Institute so she’s still a little disoriented. But she mostly tries to follow the sound of voices and sure enough, it leads her to the library, where Mercedes and Tina are huddled together over a book, talking and laughing with each other. She watches them, quietly, awkwardly, for a second, then Tina turns and spots her, smile faltering a little.

“Hey, Quinn,” she says softly. Mercedes turns too and waves at her.

“Hey, guys,” Quinn says. She swallows. “Um, could I talk to Tina for a second?” Mercedes shoots Tina a look. She nods back and Mercedes pats her hand and leaves the library, and now Quinn and Tina are alone.

“How’s your leg?” Quinn asks, deciding to stall.

Tina smiles a little, walks up to her. Her hair is in braids today. “Good as new. Tends to be the case after a few iratzes.”

Quinn nods. “Good.”

A moment passes, then Tina exhales and says, “Look, Quinn… I’m really sorry about what I said in the alley. I… can’t say I didn’t mean it, but I promise I won’t act like anything’s different, okay? We don’t even have to talk about it -- ”

“I want to talk about it.”

Tina stops. “You do?”

Quinn runs a hand through her hair. “You meant what you said?”

A slow nod from Tina, and a deep breath from Quinn.

“I’ve been thinking about it,” Quinn says, gaze fixed on the floor between their feet. “I think I feel the same.”

“… what?” 

“I want to kiss you. If you’ll let me.”

At some point, they’ve gotten closer, and now Quinn stands right in front of Tina, their faces almost touching. She barely has to move to press her lips to Tina’s. Tina inhales sharply, but then relaxes and her hands flutter up to lightly cup Quinn’s face as Quinn pulls her closer.

They pull away and Tina laughs slightly, breathlessly.

“Does this mean you still hate me?” Tina asks, her dark eyes sparkling, pupils dilated. Their breaths mingle in the lack of space between them.

“Of course,” Quinn murmurs. “Do you?”

“Why would I like you?” Tina tries to say, grinning, but she’s cut off by Quinn’s next kiss. 

And another, and another.

[nowoyas]

Your 'katsudon' looks delicious,.. How did you make it,, 😍

*breaks fingers* alright recipe time bitches, gonna throw this shit under a readmore for ur dash’s sakes

ingredience:

1-2 chicken breasts (I used one cus I got a different brand from usual and these chicken breasts were THICC, u wanna make sure they’re kinda thin otherwise cut em in half or they won’t cook through properly)

rice (1 cup white uncooked is what I used)

onion (half a large yellow onion, I used two small yellow onions cus I’m an onion whore)

panko, which is japanese bread crumbs! (like 1 cup)

1 large egg, beaten

2 more large eggs, beaten, SEPARATE from the first egg

about 1/4 cup flour

salt n pepper baybeeee

grated lemon peel (if it doesn’t have lemon peel, soy sauce, or just so much sugar I didn’t cook it, but you can leave this out if you want :( )

2/3 cup dashi stock 

1 1/2 tbsp mirin (rice wine, it’s a cooking wine so you should be able to buy it even if ur not legal drinking age)

1 1/2 tbsp sake (NOT a cooking alcohol, u will need someone to buy it for u if ur underaged)

1 1/2 tbsp soy sauce

1 1/2 TEASPOONS, not tablespoons, sugar

if ur life rocks and u can find it, mitsuba which is japanese parsley. if ur life doesn’t rock and u can’t get it (Aka ur me), regular parsley works fine

oil! a flavor neutral cooking oil like canola oil or veg oil. don’t use olive oil. the amount will depend on the size of ur frying pan but we’re gonna b shallow frying this shit

resippy:

set everything out, cook ur rice ahead of time

start by slicing up your onions. what I do is cut the onion in half and then do wedges, then separate the layers and toss that into a bowl. set aside for later

I like to set up ur breading station first so u don’t gotta do it with chicken hands or wash your hands 50000 times, so set out either shallow bowls or plates with ur flour, ONE beaten egg, panko, and then one clean plate for once ur chicken’s all bready

then u wanna prep ur chicken, if ur chicken breasts are thin slicing in half once longways is fine (like chicken tenders) but if u got thicc bois first slice em in half so they’re not so thicc. u want this shit to b able to cook all the way thru because in this house we do NOT stan salmonella poisoning or any matter of food-born illnesses. I find 4 chicken tender-sized slices to b the perfect amount to fit in my pan

if u didn’t prep ur breading station ahead of time, wash ur hands and do it now. ur order is flour -> egg -> panko -> finish plate

if u prepped ur breading station first, then sprinkle salt + pepper over both sides of each chicken not-tender, maybe a lil bit of lemon peel. then, one at a time, cover each piece with flour, then dredge it in egg, and then the panko. b careful to completely cover ur chicken during each step! when it’s bready, place the chicken+seasoning+floureggpanko on the plate, rinse ur fingertips bc they’re probs gettin breaded too, and repeat until all ur chicken’s covered and breaded

get a plate and line it with 2 or 3 paper towels, have some extra on the side too, you’ll need em

now for the fun part and the reason i smell like burn ointment right now: frying!

you wanna get a shallow frying pan and pour enough oil so it’s half an inch deep in. heat it over medium heat 5-10 minutes, you want the oil to be around 350 degrees fahrenheit (176.66 celcius according to google?) but I don’t own a thermometer lmao. take a tiny piece of panko and drop it in the oil, it might sink a lil and if bubbles carry it back to the top kinda slow-ish you’ll know you’re ready to fry. u wanna make sure it’s not too cold or too hot cus too cold won’t get crispy and too hot will over-cook ur breading while ur chicken doesn’t cook all the way thru

drop one of your katsu tenders in the oil s l o w l y. if u did it right the oil probably doesn’t cover the tender all the way--that’s ok, using either tongs or something scoopy or like, long chopsticks, carefully flip it every now and then until the whole thing’s nice and golden brown. remove and set on ur paper towel plate, repeat for the rest of ur katsu tenders. I recommend one at a time so you don’t overcook any of them! it also makes em easier to flip in the oil without being a dumbass like me and having oil pop all over ur goddamn s k i n and burn u cus god knows I do that shit every time or grab fresh hot meat with my bare hands when it’s barely out of the oil

once you’re all done frying, remove ur oil from the heat and let it cool before you even THINK about cleaning that shit. get another frying pan (probs deeper than the one u fried in), toss in ur sake, mirin, dashi, sugar, soy sauce, and onions, and stir it up. heat it until it starts boiling, drop ur heat to medium, and cook it up until ur onions are all wilty. 

at this point, put ur fried up chicken in and turn the heat up to medium high. take ur other two beaten eggs and pour em over the chicken so it’s about as evenly ditributed as u can get. nice egg bath for our nice bready chicken. 

when the egg’s around half cooked (I’d give advice on what that looks like but it’s kinda somethin u gotta feel with ur heart of hearts), turn off the heat and add ur mitsuba or boring old dried parsley I GUESS and more lemon peel. probably less than i would add. I’m known for eating more lemon than is healthy.

remember your rice? I sure hope so! get some of that shit in a bowl and scoop out some chicken tendie, make sure u get onions and some of the liquid and stuff, and lay that shit on top of the rice.

take a bite and fucking ascend. holy shit. izuku was right. katsudon is so fucking good. the first time I made this shit and tried it I got some rice, meat, and onion and egg all in one bite and yelled “oh FUCK” so loud in my kitchen my roommate came out of her room and I had to let her try some. but don’t be fooled. this recipe could probably maybe serve two, potentially three if ur all small eaters. don’t share. eat all of it urself. c o n s u m e it. I highly recommend gettin a bite with everything in it, cus you’ll fucking d i e. 

izuku was so right. this shit slaps. even if it’s not technically katsudon. (I think it makes it oyakodon? but shhhh it’s katsudon if I SAY it’s katsudon) it’s just. so good. i’m a lil drunk cus the sake isn’t resealable so I’ve been drinking it but f u c k this shit’s so good. call me a kinnie but katsudon’s one of my favorite foods now too i’m lowkey crying a little it’s so fucking g o o d

[alvadee]

I hope this is okay to ask; you’ve been pretty open about your adhd and how it affects you, and I was wondering what symptoms did you experience that helped you decide to seek diagnosis. (Asking for someone who’s wondered over the years if they have it too)

Hi! Yeah, it’s ok. :^) 

Oh boy, I remember I was trying to figure out what was going on with me. At that point I had accepted that how miserable...everything...was depression and since I didn’t find a therapist I had more time to think and thought more about “ok, it’s depression. but what lead to it?” and it was all stuff I were I couldn’t cope with “normal” things/situations that didn’t seem to faze my peers or fazed them much less. and i was like, ok, i guess I have social anxiety, I have fear of failure, i’m an emotional eater/ have a binge eating disorder?, I’m sensitive/react very strongly to feeling not liked/criticized, can’t manage my life/home for shit, am constantly very tired even after waking up to the point i don’t get much done bcs I have to take naps and the only times i feel happiness anymore is when i find a new “special interests”. And I was like “how THE FUCK” do I tackle all these individual problems in the fucking miserable state i’m in...? and around that time i came across a post on my dash about how adhd often presents itself differently in women and that add women are usually hypoactive and daydreamers not stereotypical hyperactive and two or three other points and i was like “damn, that sounds like me but i never heard about that side of adhd. off to google!” and i googled and realized more and more that this could be something. that add would mean all these problems that i always assumed were “seperate” problems and character flaws had one source and maybe even one fix! i read the wiki about it or something like that and i really remember crying that night because i felt like i finally solved the mystery of my fucked up life. and when i read this article on additude.com that hit so many specific nails on the head I knew I had to look seriously into this and at least get professionally evaluated for add. In general I read a lot about add in women on that website because it was the only source that had articles about the specific experiences of that demographic.

 Ok, that was longer that I planned. And for the actual symptoms I have written down before/during/after my evaluation, that are several pages lmao If it’s ok I’ll don’t copy them all, just the major ones. 

These are the symptoms I wrote down for my doc as the things that cause all the problems in my life and need to be solved and which I thought were related to ADD:

tired/no energy, night owl, fucked up sleep rhythm, can’t concentrate when i’m not really interested in a thing even if i want to, hence many things don’t interest me, my thoughts wander away against my will/without me noticing (can deal with that in private life but it’s terrible in school/job), don’t finish projects because i get bored or because of perfectionism (if it isn’t perfect what’s the point?), fear of failure, have a hard time doing things that feel pointless to me (household: what’s the point in dusting when it gets dirty again so quickly again, forever), can’t keep home tidy/organized, very forgetful (half of the time for real, half of the time avoidance behavior), emotional eating, over-thinking (leading to fear/anxiety), racing thoughts, social anxiety (fear of embarrassing myself), feel worthless, react very strongly to rejection (even when it’s subtle and maybe not directed at me)

and then i wrote down the other ADD symptoms i though i had in general:

hyper-focus, dreamer, can’t concentrate well, boredom is actually painful, sitting still for a long time without being engaged in something makes me restless, and frustrated, mood swings, low self-esteem, time blindness, trouble paying bills on time, bad time management (can’t estimate well how long it will take me to do something), writing mails/essays is hard because i have trouble organizing all my thoughts, sometimes i have trouble hearing people when my brain is still focused on a task, always put in a lot of effort and still make “careless” mistakes, no confidence in myself, basically always nervous and tense, skin picking, play with jewelry/my bottom lip/fingers when bored, can’t stand still when i have to wait somewhere (bus station), eating disorder, considered “mature” early but always had trouble finding friends, felt i was different early on, RSD, feel bad after spending time with friends (as if i did something wrong embarrassed myself just by being me), feeling drained/extremely tired after socializing, over-stimulation (crowds, loud music, street noises), projecting my own negative overthinking on others (when i’m in public my brain tells me all the negative things which people who pass me or see me probably think about me), can’t concentrate in class, can’t repeat what the teacher just said, daydream, have to repeat the material at home unlike everyone else, get distracted during class/tests by small noises, often make mistakes because i think the instructions are too easy and must be wrong so i over complicate things because my thoughts jump two or three steps ahead, can’t ask for help in school bcs i usually don’t even know what the problem i’m having or too embarrassed to ask in case i was the only one again who missed that part of the lecture, low level depression/sadness since early teens, only have the modes all or nothing when it comes to interests or doing things

I don’t think that’s everything but close to everything. There’s more stuff I realized after taking my meds but idk I think it’s even more specific so I don’t think that helpful. All the best!

[apprenticenerd]

"Anyone can send me an ask with one of the titles and I’ll post a snippet or talk about that WIP!" The Acropolis, Tacet, Checklist, A Tiny Galaxy, Hearsay, Going Back, Ella Disenchanted, Making Peace, The Slashed Circle, Wake Up, Tenno, Midnight, Heliotropism, Arrhythmia, the one about Among Us, the one about Library of Ruina, the one that’s a D&D world concept. Yes, all of them. I know you wanna talk about all of them. So go, go forth and do it!

Hoooo boy, this is gonna be a long post. Lots and lots of writing snippets under the cut to avoid dash stretch!

The Acropolis - original - length uncertain - 1.4k and counting

im not ready for this im not i thought it would be yrs i thought id at least get an english degree first

omg sal whats goin on

fuckin hell whyd it have to be now i have a chem lab tomorrow

sally-tate macpherson. u never swear. ever. wtf is goin on.

ok. jess. i need u to listen really really carefully. understand?

answer the goddamn question ur scarin me

shut up and listen and this will go a lot better

fine but u need to tell me wtf is happnenig

ok. im going to tell you a bunch of stuff. not giving u advice, thats not allowed, but im gonna tell u stuff it seems like itd be impossible for me to know.

?????????????

i said shut up this is really important dont question how i know it. just go with it and figure out what to do. and dont die. bc no matter how crazy stuff seems, if u die, ur dead. here and everywhere. ok?

This is an original story coming straight from a @/writing-prompt-s prompt about a crack in a kid’s hardwood floor that they fantasized was a portal actually being one. I originally intended to write the entire thing like this, as a conversation over text, but that may not be feasible given a certain world-building detail at the other end of the portal (and the limits of my creativity lmao).

---

Tacet - The Blackout Club - one-shot - 3.2k and counting

She closed her eyes again, and there it was. Hallucination? Some new science trick with electromagnetic radiation off the visible spectrum? Evidence that she was actually going insane? Whatever it was, it burned behind her eyelids in bright, incontrovertible red - and was completely invisible when she opened her eyes again. There was just the usual mess of club posters and one big one about someone’s exceedingly dumb-looking lost cat.

Eyes open, there was only Sargent Snuggles. Eyes closed, there was the normal darkness and then three lines of text where the poster had been, wavering like scarlet fire:

JOIN TBC JOIN TBC JOIN TBC

TBC? What the fuck was that? She’d never heard of any group with that acronym before. Hardly aware of the flurry of weird looks from half the other people in the hallway, she crossed the hall to examine the lost cat poster more closely. It felt like perfectly normal paper when she touched it, and there wasn’t even a hint of red with her eyes open, unless you counted the cat’s tacky pink sweater. How the hell was this even possible?

“You’re finally cracking, Bri,” she groaned under her breath, then headed for her locker. She did have to get home. Add another big fat entry to the weird shit list.

A backstory one-shot for my Blackout Club OC Briar, telling the story of how she got into the club in the first place. I’ve been stuck in the same spot for a while now, after Briar’s friend Dani explains the club to her, and I’ve come to the conclusion that the scene’s over as is. Of course, writing the next one is the tough part.

---

Checklist - The Blackout Club - one-shot - 1.7k and counting

8. You still have a headache. Shouldn’t you go back to sleep and try to do this in the morning?

9. (wake up)

10. Nah, you’ve always been a night owl, and school starts criminally early, too early to get much done beforehand. It’s quiet, except for Dad snoring. Your parents are asleep already. You can stay up until this is done, and they’ll be none the wiser.

11. Your head hurts worse. It’s getting harder to think. At only 9 pm? 9:30? Whatever. You should sleep.

12. (wake UP)

13. What are you thinking? You have to read at least a little of this chapter, or there’s no way you’ll be able to bullshit your way through class tomorrow. Besides, all of a sudden, the silence feels...strange. Heavier? You can’t describe it.

14. You need to sleep. You need a drink of water or something. You need to finish this damn homework. You need to sleep. You need to sleep.

15. Stare at The Great Gatsby. It doesn’t make sense. Nothing makes sense.

16. Realize what’s up with the silence. Dad’s not snoring anymore. You aren’t feeling like yourself. You need to sleep.

17. Something’s weird.

18. (WAKE UP) 

19. ...No. Something’s wrong.

Another Blackout Club story and another Interface Screw, as it were, this time in the form of a (very long) checklist. None of the characters have names (yet). It describes another way a kid could find themself running around at night with the Blackout Club, this time by fighting off the Song just enough to run into a club member who could wake them up the rest of the way. As with Tacet, I still need to write the suspenseful part.

---

A Tiny Galaxy - Warframe - 4 chapters planned, 1 complete, 1 in progress - 7.8k and counting

Try it if you don’t believe me, the kid in the vent had said.

It was impossible. It was physically impossible. All of this was impossible. Had the Void...? Could the Void...?

The ship was at a standstill. Her mother had tried to kill her, and something had happened. She’d made something happen. There had been no holoprojector in that kid’s hand. Nothing was impossible anymore.

Jhia took a deep breath. How the heck was she supposed to do this? Was she supposed to feel something, some internal guide? Blue Hair hadn’t said. Feeling incredibly stupid, she did a quick mental checkup on herself. Nothing felt wrong, or different - but now that she thought about it…

Afterward, she would try many times to explain it, and fail every time. The best she could come up with was that once she found the Void, calling on it was as easy and as natural as breathing. She opened her hands in front of her, concentrated on that force like an extension of herself, reopened her eyes, and there it was: a riotous little ball of energy, wisps and motes of light and not-quite-light like a tiny galaxy, the Tau system in the palm of her hand, raging.

More OC backstory time! This one’s for my Tenno, a nerdy fourteen-year-old (at the time of this story, anyway) by the name of Jhia, going through the hell that is the Zariman Ten-Zero and what happened on it. This is possibly the first part of the story I actually wrote: the roll-credits moment when Jhia realizes the Void’s changed her more already than she thought.

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Hearsay - Lobotomy Corporation/Library of Ruina - one-shot - 1k and counting

"Oh? Did they investigate further?"

"They tried. Found a few fingerprints, but they didn't match anyone in the database."

"What's the update, then?"

"Reports from elsewhere in the district of someone not in uniform carrying a Zwei sword. They're slippery, good at avoiding us, which would suggest Syndicate operative to me and HQ. Except that in every one of the descriptions we managed to get, our sword thief is a child."

"What? How?!"

"You tell me, Iona. You're the one who went to the crime scene."

"Right... Jeez, if it's a kid, I guess that'd explain why Petrov thought they weren't a threat..."

"My thoughts exactly. HQ has a fair amount of hearsay to go on, but nobody can quite agree on how old the child is, or whether or not she's with a Syndicate. Most agree that she appears to be a girl, tall for a child, auburn hair, clothes and demeanor typical of a Backstreets native."

"We got a name?"

"They've heard Yeri, Kali, Redbird, Suma, Aelfin... No one knows which is her real one, or if it's even any of them at all."

"Damn. ...Say, are you going to drink that entire pot of coffee?"

"Help yourself."

This is one of those stories that turned into an accidental AU when more of canon came out. The idea behind it is that it’s Kali’s backstory told entirely in conversations in which she did not participate, showcasing the fact that a Fixer’s fame is their livelihood and Kali was about as famous as they come, before the whole L Corp thing happened. Of course, the vast majority of the headcanons here got invalidated with a certain Ruina update, so my motivation’s kinda down on this one.

---

Going Back has already been talked about here!

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Ella Disenchanted - The Blackout Club - one-shot (maybe two-shot??) - 1.4k and counting

She woke. Her stomach went through a series of panicked flip-flops as she thought something strange had done it, Dad or a little-kid-nightmares shadow beast had made noise, but no - why had she fallen asleep in the first place? Her butt and shoulder were sore where they’d been leaning on the bottom and side of the windowsill, presumably all night, since the sun was full up over the trees on Old Growth Hill. 

All night. She’d promised herself she wouldn’t fall asleep, but she did anyway. God dammit.

As she unfolded herself from her cramped ball, though, she froze. Under the comforter she’d pulled around her shoulders for warmth, she was wearing her gray jacket, a T-shirt, jeans, sneakers getting dried mud all over the carpet. 

Last she remembered, she’d been in her pajamas.

In which a Blackout Club kid’s little sister wonders where he’s gone when he runs away to the boxcar, and tries to get to the bottom of the mystery herself. Usually she’d be too young for the club to recruit, but her investigations and an incident involving SAO are more than enough extenuating circumstance. Unlike most of my other WIPs, there’s a whole outline at the end of my doc for this one.

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Making Peace - Warframe - multi-chapter - 1.5k and counting

“I…” Iksoh finally said. “Sorna, I hope you realize. I’m not into this. I never - I’m not doing this. Whatever you’re doing, I can’t.”

“I know,” Sorna said softly. The decision tore at her heart again and she almost backed out of the vent, but no. She had to go. She wouldn’t see another innocent crumple in her rifle sights. “I hope you realize. I’m not coming back.”

Behind her, Iksoh let out a long, shaky breath. “It’s taking all I’ve got not to report you right now. Sorna… the Queens’ll have my head for this. Please, please, let it be worth it. Go. Don’t let them take yours.”

“I won’t,” Sorna promised, and meant it.

Later, after her last fight for her freedom was done, on the Steel Meridian ship headed for Kronia Relay, Sorna looked out at the planet retreating behind her and thought of Iksoh. She’d just learned a new word from a Meridian soldier: vaykor tal, the defector’s spirit. Iksoh had let her go, at risk of their own life. They’d had a bit of the vaykor tal themself, even if they hadn’t known it, even if they’d thought it was just some weakness that was bound to get them killed.

“Ranre treri, duf krun,” she whispered into space, a Grineer well-wishing passed down from sergeant to tube-fresh lancer since time immemorial. May your hands be steady, and may life be kind.

This is an AU born of me and some friends wondering why in the heck Perrin and the Meridian hate each other so much in game. It’s about a group of Kavor - Grineer defectors distinguished from other Meridian members by their pacifism - who get to a Relay and start wondering the same thing. Besides Sorna (and, later in the story, Iksoh as well), there would have been Chakh, Beket, and Sydon, plus at least four of the syndicate leaders and a bunch of side-character OCs, all caught up somehow in what turns out to be a surprisingly far-reaching web of intrigue.

--

The Slashed Circle - Warframe - one-shot, probably - 429 and counting

In addition to their written and spoken language, the Grineer have a full language of hand signs. It has its quirks, as all languages do - be careful of confusing it with the Corpus sign language, in which the sign for “to pay” roughly approximates the Grineer sign for...a certain portion of the male anatomy. Among these is the common Grineer sentiment against those who defect from their ranks, baked into the sign just as much as their spoken words. 

The sign of the slashed circle, the sedashkur - a finger drawn in a circle on the chest, followed by a diagonal line - is the highest of taboos to any loyal Grineer. It shows support for such scum as the Kavor and Steel Meridian, enough so that it forms the basis for the Meridian’s battle standard. To sign the sedashkur is to betray your siblings, commit a grave insult to your superiors, paint a near-indelible target on your back. It is an object of hatred and fear throughout the ranks.

She fears it, yes, but she does not hate it, for all her life and into her death as well. It shouldn’t trouble her now, though. It is easy to hide a language, and she burned her journals before she was called to the fortress.

This is a fic about Jhia and her one (1) converted Kuva Lich, namely about the process of said Lich’s defeat and defection, that kinda never got off the ground. Contrary to this snippet, I think most of it would have been written in what are essentially space emails back and forth between Lich and Tenno? I definitely got as far as Jhia sending an audio recording of a bass-boosted dog fart, anyhow.

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Wake Up, Tenno - Warframe - one-shot - 950 and counting

“Wake up, Tenno.”

She wakes. She is - she is Tenno, right? She is a Tenno? Her mind is confused, so full of fog and dead ends - how long was she asleep?

The voice that woke her seems familiar. She might have loved the speaker, in her scrambled past life, the woman in the purple helmet, the one called Lotus in her HUD vision. Her surroundings are a ruin of some sort. Her body is—

...what?

She can move just fine. Her fingers and arms and legs respond with suspicious ease, given how long she must have slept to be this scattered upon waking up, and yet there’s some fundamental disconnect. This is her Warframe, her body, but it’s not her body somehow.

...wait, where did the term “Warframe” come from?

A Tenno, unnamed but intended to be Jhia on my end, wakes up on Earth at the very beginning of the in-game storyline. Since the tutorial has gotten an overhaul in recent months, I may have to modify even what little I have on this a lot.

---

Midnight - Iconoclasts - poem - 280 and counting

been anything smaller than been anything

never been anything smaller than

“good morning, how’s miss grump doing today? i heard about that last mission...if you didn’t sleep well i can call you in sick, it’s alright-” “oh, shut up, grey”

there has never been anything

“oh, shut up, grey” “love you too”

smaller

“love you too”

than

me

A very fragmented, stream-of-consciousness-y poem meant to represent Agent Black’s failing sanity near the end of the game. The words of her famous one-liner (“there has never been anything smaller than me”) are interspersed, out of order until the end, with poetic descriptions of other characters and bits and pieces of a flashback involving Agent Grey.

---

Heliotropism - Iconoclasts - one-shot - 1.1k and counting

Lily, though she’s superstitious, will have none of these self-important truths, none of these semblances of certainty when really all it is is wishing on Ivory and hoping for the best. She calls for Miss Andress instead. 

A stout but severe woman with ten grandchildren and a great-grandchild on the way, Miss Andress is perhaps the quintessential matriarch: nurturing, selfless, brutally honest. She is the one the people of 17 trust when they feel they can trust no one else. Lily needs the kind of reassurance only she can give, with the authority of ninety-one years and the wisdom of two sons, one daughter, and some five dogs raised under her care.

When Miss Andress visits House 4, she asks Polro and Lily to each bring an object they cherish the most. For Polro it’s his largest wrench, pitted with use but still polished to a brassy shine; Lily surprises everyone by pulling out a tiny, unloaded stun-gun, and surprises them more by not explaining it at all. Miss Andress doesn’t question it. She just turns the two tools over and over in her hands, head bowed, squinting at them as if trying to read the secrets of the universe in the scratches carved into them by time.

Finally she straightens up and sighs, pushing a strand of silver hair behind her ear. Her forehead is slick with sweat, though the night is cool outside. “I don’t know what she’ll do,” the wise woman says, heavily, as if delivering bad news. “I just know she’ll change the world.”

Can you tell I like backstory fic? This one is for Robin, with one short anecdote for each year of her life, up to age 17 and the events of the game. It’s also an excuse to world-build a bunch, lol.

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Arrhythmia - Crypt of the NecroDancer - one-shot(?) - 4k and counting

The creature didn’t say anything, just beckoned to the shadows. Before I could move, two other creatures came for me, sending the other humans - former humans? - scrambling away in panic. One landed a hard blow on the back of my head that sent me to my hands and knees, seeing sparks; the other said “Freeze!” and I could only watch as ice sprouted from the leaf litter, cementing me to the ground.

The one who’d hit me produced a dagger from the inside of its cloak. I tried to pull myself up, to do anything at all to keep myself from getting shanked, but it was no good. There must have been a secondary effect on that spell; my limbs wouldn’t respond. I felt the dagger tear cloth in the region of my back, and prepared for the pain.

It didn’t come. The creature cut a slit in the back of my tunic, then another. Neither one touched the skin at all. I can’t really describe what happened next - my brain was having trouble computing how my arms were in front of me, visible, unable to move, but it felt like the creature was pulling them through the gashes in my tunic, but that was wrong, they didn’t feel like arms at all.

“Holy fuck,” I heard someone say.

The ice holding me down melted into nothing as the spell wore off. I jumped back up, head spinning a little, ready for another fight, only to spot two flicks of scarlet in my peripheral vision. I spun around, but they moved with me.

I think I already knew what they were. I just couldn’t admit it to myself.

You’ve already seen this one, Nick, though I’m pretty sure it was well over two years ago. It’s a pile of old headcanons, some of them now outdated I’m pretty sure, about how Nocturna ended up a vampire in the first place and a little bit about how vampire society works. According to Google Docs, I’ve been stuck on this one since March 2018. Whoops.

---

untitled (working title “adult citra meets an impostor bc what is self-control”) - Among Us - one-shot - 572 and counting

“I know. You’re stuck, aren’t you?” Having well and truly gotten their full attention, Citra continues, “God, I can barely imagine. Having to take a weird-ass host whose biology might even be toxic to you, I don’t know. Needing to get to a whole other galaxy, feeling like the only way to do that is by deception and death.” “How…?”

She sighs. “I told you, this isn’t my first rodeo. One of your kind saved my life when I was a kid. Since he’d killed Mom and Dad had been out of the picture long before, he stayed here and helped raise me afterward. It’s how I learned to pronounce...a few of your words, at least.”

“You missed the ‘H’ sound.”

“Isn’t that the one that’s literally impossible to do right with Terran anatomy?”

“Maybe. You think I know Terran anatomy all that well?”

Citra chuckles. “Fair point. You let us find your buddy and fix the ship, I’ll raise Xai when we get comms back and he can try and help you get home. Deal?”

I found an Among Us comic on Tumblr, absolutely ran into left field with it to make a couple of OCs, and then made AUs of those OCs because of course I did. This one is from a future scenario in which Citra (typically orange) meets someone rather familiar on a mission with the crew of the Skeld.

---

untitled (working title “library of ruina but they adopt half the guests”) - Library of Ruina - length uncertain - 1k and counting

“And what happened to not caring about others because it’s a waste of time and heartache?”

Now it’s Roland’s turn to sigh. “I don’t care about him. I just don’t want the guilt of killing - look at him, he can’t be older than eighteen or nineteen!”

Raised eyebrow. “Finn will be twenty years old in fifteen days’ time. He is a legal adult. I fail to see why this should matter to either of us.”

“He’s fresh off his first Fixer license! I have years of experience! He had no idea what he was getting into when he signed that invitation and you know it!”

Angela fixes him with a glare that turns his stomach, his freshly remade body reacting to the memory of its sudden, and extremely painful, dismemberment. “I could quite literally hold your soul in my hands if I wanted,” she reminds him in an undertone of steel. “I must do the same for him, following the invitation’s guidance, or my entire plan will be lost, my coworkers’ sacrifices all for naught. Do not disappoint me or ask any more impertinent questions. You know what to do, and what will happen if you do not.” 

Look, some of the people you fight in this game deserved so much better, okay? I came up with an AU concept where if a guest willingly concedes the fight and agrees to stick around, you can get their book without killing them. Finn doesn’t die; neither do Tomerry or Shi Association; all the former employees realize exactly what’s going on with Philip after the Wedge Office fight and manage to calm him down, avoiding the whole Crying Children situation. (And then Gebura makes him collect his jaw off the floor by revealing herself as the Red Mist.)

---

The one that’s a D&D world concept doesn’t have anything concrete written for it yet. (Don’t read this bit if you might want to play in my campaign at some point!) Instead of your typical Forgotten Realms planar setup, the world at large would be called the Seven Spheres, each of them different in terms of climate, geography, native species and magic, etc. The First Sphere would be the most “generic” one (to our way of thinking) and the main setting of the campaign; it would also be the smallest of the Seven, its primary continent home to a former empire of dragons that spanned most of the Sphere until its mysterious fall a thousand years ago.

Now, since the empire fell, the dragons and their children have slowly been dying out. Best estimates are that there’s only a thousand or two left in the entire First Sphere, with fewer eggs hatched every decade. The player characters enter a world with pretty typical low-level quests to start with, but every so often, especially if they engage with optional story stuff (this would be a more roleplay-focused than combat-focused campaign), they get wind of changes in the air - a failed harvest here, an unusually hot and stormy summer there, a trade war once they start hitting mid-levels.

It mimics real-world climate change in all but cause. As coastal cities struggle to contend with rising seas and, more alarmingly, wizards all over the Sphere start to notice their magic falter and wane, the PCs’ goal becomes getting to the bottom of this. And what’s at the bottom is...your typical Nerd fusion of science with fantasy settings.

The Seven Spheres are not planes of existence in the normal D&D sense, but seven planets in the same solar system, each with its own ancient god far more powerful than any god in any mortal pantheon; the First Sphere is so named because it’s closest to the sun. These planetary gods are incredibly large and incredibly alien, thinking in geologic time and concepts far too broad and slow for most sapient beings to comprehend. A thousand years ago, the fall of the dragon empire was caused by an ill-advised ritual meddling with the god of the First Sphere’s natural process of rebirth, causing said god to die without a replacement.

It’s taken this long for the First Sphere to feel the effects because, again, geologic time - a thousand years is a blink of an eye in this kind of time scale. But now the ancient earth-magic that had kept the Sphere’s climate temperate and its magicians in business is failing. The dragons, as beings of magic intrinsically, have been failing all along. And now it’s up to the PCs, up at level 17-20 if not higher by that point, to figure out how to fix the situation and find a new planetary god for the First Sphere before the whole Sphere burns to death.

[diningpageantry]

Don’t @ Me

Archive Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18215168/chapters/43092371

Chapter 1/10 of It’s A Handheld Disaster

Word Count: 3118

Fic Summary: Teenage life is hard enough, but with the added weight of their lives, both Simon and Baz thrive online in a fandom for the British crime show, Gastrell, about the genius Huxley and his "flatmate" Sam. Through Tumblr, they find each other, and sink into something more than just being mutuals.

Chapter Summary: A shitpost is taken a little too personally, and an argument breaks out. In true Baz fashion, he seeks to prove himself right in the most ridiculous way possible.

BAZ

Morning routines are the most menial shit in the realm of existence of arbitrary tasks.

Everyone seems to have them, yet nobody really has a set one. For example, my step-mum has a long, seemingly pointless hour of simply facial cleansers, serums, and hair products. When I’d asked her years ago why she does it all, she shook her head and said “You’ll never be an aging woman, Basilton.”

I couldn’t quite argue with that.

Regardless, it’s a part of life. The routines. Wake up, morning routine, morning activity, eat, afternoon activity, usually afternoon snack, evening activity, dinner, night-time activity, sleep.

A boring, underwhelming cycle of the day.

Although, I suppose it’s shittier for me, since the homeschooling doesn’t give me a chance to do much besides sit and read. Of course, I have my car and I can drive off to whatever. Hell, father even suggested I get a job to occupy myself, but I don’t quite see the point given how much money we have (and the risk factors with moving around so frequently).

So, here I am. Finishing my classes in a matter of months, then having an entire year of pointless bullshit.

Needless to say, my entire day’s routine isn’t the most thrilling. Wake up at 10 on a good day, check social media and emails, then just lay here until I can’t wait to piss. Piss. Go to eat breakfast and get greeted by screaming children and my poor step-mum trying to wrangle them in. Go upstairs, go back online, see whatever’s on my dash, reblog some shit, then try to do something vaguely productive. Check Archive, check email again. Nothing’s on the emails, ever. Text Dev and Niall, who get awfully pissed since they are in school. Get more food. Eat. Bring tea upstairs, despite the disdained look from our maid (who hates collecting my piles of mugs). Write for a couple hours. Take an afternoon nap, if I please. Wake up and sit there (again). Maybe lonely wank. Go back to the bathroom, stare at myself in the mirror for a good few minutes. Sit on the toilet for half an hour for no reason besides the fact that my phone seems more interesting while sitting there as compared to sitting in bed. Sit then on the bathroom floor doing the same thing. Go back to my bed, listen to music on my phone and work on my laptop. Write, maybe scroll. Get dinner brought to me as they tut that I should be more active. Eat. Go downstairs for an evening workout (they’re right, I shouldn’t confine myself to my bed). Come back, do exactly what I do for half the day until I pass out somewhere around 3 am. Repeat.

Dream life for an 17 year old. Social life of a god.

Somewhat.

It’s shit to say (and sort of embarrassing to share) that there’s sort of a social media presence around me. Not quite the Instagram model bullshit, but based around fan life.

Yes, it’s a laughing stock. That’s where my popularity lies--a mixed grab-bag of various ages gathering around various platforms to enthuse about certain topics. And I’m somehow lucky enough to have the slightest bit of popularity here.

As in, a large following. A large, somehow active following.

It isn’t exactly thrilling as one would like to think. Sure, it’s fun to see a scattered group of regulars pop up, and I have my mutuals, but it’s a sad existence to sit around and make various shitposts with nothing better to occupy my mind. Or, at least, that’s what Dev and Niall tell me.

All in all, I blame Fiona. She’s the one who got me into the show, saying she thought the character was a bit like me. After I saw it, I found the three connections she’d grasped at.

Gay, dark-haired, and violinist.

As if that’s a rarity.

Yet, surely enough, I did love it. The cinematography, the characters, the storyline. It was intriguing--captivating.

It doesn’t hurt that the online community was still on the smaller side when I first got there. The show was only a season in when I made my blog, and I’ve stuck through all this bullshit to get me here. One of the regulars. Reposted everywhere, uncredited usually. Big fics, large interactions. Shitposts with thousands upon thousands of notes. I’m recognizable; a suggested name.

Don’t get me wrong, the attention is spectacular. I love interacting with people beyond this depressing household, and they’re usually fairly nice (usually) (except those ravenous for an argument). It’s just awkward to share at times when people ask why your mobile’s got 99+ symbols next to the apps and you just shrug and say “I’m shit at checking it” to avoid the conversation because most people see it as childish.

It’s a shame, really. Especially since I feel emotionally attached to these goddamn fictional fuckers.

I suppose that’s what makes it all the more personal, then. Even the shitposts mean something to me.

Which is what makes this is a long, winded way of saying fuck whoever’s arguing with me about whether or not Huxley is a fucking Ravenclaw. (He is. Hands down.) How’d I get here, staring at my mobile in disbelief at a brief back and forth post turned fight? Because it feels like a reasonable question to wonder.

I got here because, as almost all mornings, I woke up, opened my phone, read my notifs, then sat here, thinking of something. Anything. Then, in a tired haze, typed out a single text post on tumblr.

huxley gastrell is a ravenclaw send tweet

Following so, I went about my typical morning. Of course. Then--then--I check my phone as I’m going downstairs and I see it. I see the “@bi-sammy mentioned you in a post!” notif, then read the God-forsaken reblog.

@gaystrell op do you take criticism on your posts?

I frowned at my phone, typing out a quick response before tucking it back into my pocket.

@bi-sammy no.

What I hadn’t anticipated, though, was the reply I’d open up to soon after I’d started poking at my morning meal.

@gaystrell well too bad bc ur WRONG and ur opinions are UGLY

#he’s clearly a slytherin this is slytherin oppression #don’t tell me he and bryonie aren’t from a slytherin family

Now I sit, staring and completely awestruck at such a post. Now, I won’t deny Bryonie Gastrell is definitely, in all possible ways, a Slytherin. Cunning and ambitious as fuck, as any political spy may be, but fuck anyone who tries to dismiss Huxley’s clear Ravenclaw leanings.

It takes me a moment to fully process, mouth robotically chewing my eggs as I contemplate my answer.

@bi-sammy there is absolutely no proof of huxley being a slytherin and more than enough support towards him being a ravenclaw. get your clueless negativity off my blog, you utter tit.

With that, I settle my phone face down onto my table and try to enjoy my lovely plate of scrambled eggs, barely ignoring the boiling of my blood.

SIMON

My phone lights up with the new notification, dragging my attention away from my laptop as the words slide down onto the screen. “@gaystrell mentioned you in a post!” I hate to admit that I get a little pattering in my heart, urging my hand out to grasp the mobile as I pause the Youtube video currently playing. As I read his words, I slowly blink out of my excitement.

Tit. He called me a bloody tit.

Of course this fucking wanker called me a tit.

He must think that since he’s this big bad blogger, he can call me a tit right out in the open. (Although, he is talking to me, so that’s a plus) (No! No no no, bad validation, Simon. Bad). What, with his thousands of followers and fans of his own, he thinks he can try to say shit out in the open?

Fuck it. He’s either getting a DM or a bloody fist fight from me. I’ll take a train to wherever the fuck he lives (which is somewhere in England, since that’s what his bio says) (and his aunt lives in London, since he’s posted about visiting her) (I really do wonder where he’s from and how close he might be--what if I run into him one day?) (No wait fuck I don’t want that anymore).

Clicking on his blog, the little person drop down gives me the option of a message. I barely think as I type it out, vision going spotty from the adrenaline of the twinging anger.

bi-sammy: i swear to god there was no point to the battle of hogwarts if you’re just going to go around and absolutely slander the slytherin name and dare say that huxley is not one of them and, rather, is a ravenclaw

At first, I grin at it, watching my lone message appear into the empty chat. It’s so freeing--so powerful to send it. I pride myself, in the moment, for this solid move of communication. Of course I’m fucking proud. I messaged the arse myself and gave him a space to fight.

Maybe Penny’s right, I should dial down the confrontation, but it’s just the internet. Nothing important happens through a stupid little argument over Huxley’s true Hogwarts house (although, I’m sure I know I’m right in my heart), but it is a bit of fun to fuck around with someone. It’s a distraction. And that’s why I’m here, afterall. To have a distraction.

Penny thinks it’s a bit silly, but she doesn’t really complain. All she’s ever said was  “I thought we left fandom stuff behind us when we were 14.” She said it over lunch, watching me scroll through my at-the-time new tumblr.

It’s funny, I thought I did leave it behind when I was younger. It seemed unneeded as life shifted. I’d just found a stable foster home, with someone who was going to keep me for a while. I found Penny a couple months before I deactivated my old account. I was happy; we were free. I didn’t need a venting place.

Shits been sort of hitting the fan recently, though. No uni plans, David’s been getting more controlling, and of course, Agatha dumping me. It all crashed on top of me a few months ago, and somehow, the only place that I could find healthy coping was online. So, I started fresh. Made a blog and settled in. It’s not big, but I’ve had a few posts get noticed. I have a good few hundred followers, and one nice anon who asks me how I am every few weeks. It’s not a lot, but it’s comforting.

I feel at home here, even with a little discourse.

Well, only when the discourse is answered. Which, in this situation, I don’t know if it will be, given it’s been over an hour now and Baz hasn’t answered.

If that’s even his name.

It’s what his bio says, at least.

baz. 17. cisguy (he/him). gay. don’t interact if you think huxley is remotely straight.

I’ve wondered for a while what Baz stands for. He refuses to answer it in asks; he always says it’s too personal. He’s sort of odd like that--never posts pictures of anything that could be linked back. Seems sort of creepy, but then again, a lot of people follow him. It’s reasonable to want space.

Maybe that’s why he’s not answering. He probably wants space of some sort, but it’d be at least decent to answer someone who tried to have a discussion (that’s at least what I’m calling that message I sent--a discussion starter).

I frown at my phone, keeping it on silent as I slide it into my front pocket and settle into my seat in maths. I’ll say it--I sulk in class, a little bitter that I don’t have his attention (despite the fact that he seems like he’s always active online, which seems odd). Eventually, I exhale and try to let it slip away. There went my one interaction with him. My few seconds of the weirdest fucking bliss online, gone.

Then, it happens. As the class is ending, I pull out my screen just enough to see and there it is. A clear notification telling me he’d answered. Oddly enough, it’s just him sending me a link to a Google Doc.

Weird.

I ignore it for the moment being, letting myself ride the wave of relaxation that I actually got a reply. It passes my mind until I’m sitting in the back of Agatha’s car, listening to Penny and Aggie in the front talking about whatever’s on their mind. The rides are sort of awkward as of recently. At least Agatha agreed to drive me home (it’s a good 45 minute walk, if not) after some convincing from Penny, but her and I don’t really chat. It’s just the two of them.

Given that time, I have a chance to pull out my mobile and thumb through what was sent.

gaystrell: https://docs.google.com/document/d/175qFASmqD7hey8lE0eoE-6VhhFYE9DP6bpnI32Aay98/edit?usp=sharing

I click on it, not expecting that much (or, really, not expecting anything at all). Yet, the second it pops up and loads, my jaw drops.

“Jesus fuck,” I say aloud, scrolling through it. Penny turns her head, frowning as I stay locked on my screen.

“What? What’s wrong?”

“No--no nothing,” I say, waving a hand. “It’s nothing.”

“It’s got to be something for that reaction,” she says, keeping turned in her seat as she eyes me up. “Just tell us, Si.”

“I mean it when I say it’s nothing.” My voice gets quieter as I shift, reading the title. “It’s just fandom stuff. It’s really nothing.”

I hear her disgruntled huff as she turns back, mumbling something about me reacting too dramatically to this. “It isn’t even real.” It’s said under her breath, yet it still rings clear in my ears.

It isn’t really fake, either.

Hell, this is six pages of real. “Why Huxley Gastrell is, Without a Doubt, a Ravenclaw”. Shared by Basilton Pitch (is that his actual name?!). Fucking hell, it’s detailed to no ends. You’d think, with this much writing, there’d be pages of pointless filler where he’d just type “im gay hi huxley is also a gay we’re all gay here aren’t we”, but no. It’s full, grammatically correct sentences detailing his points.

It’s a bit much to read in the car, so I settle my mobile face down onto the seat as I’m left reeling. That… was a bit more than I’d expected.

Shit, did he write that for me?

This isn’t real. This can’t be real.

BAZ

Whoever says that having a flair for the dramatics is pointless has clearly never met me, because I wouldn’t quite call this masterpiece of an essay “pointless”. In fact, I should send it to academics. Rename it “A Study In Multi-Dimensional Characters and their Associated Generalized Personality Traits”. I’ll be hailed as a genius, as I deserve to be.

I crack my knuckles, and see the little person pop up.

Surely enough, it’s @bi-sammy’s name that he has listed online, Simon. It’s curious, he has his last name listed as “Snow”. Although, the smallest part of me believes it’s a pseudonym. Given our interactions, I doubt he’s clever enough to think of a solid pseudonym. And, even at that, why pick Snow?

Either way, it’s surprisingly endearing. Simon Snow. Sounds sweet. Sounds innocent.

I watch his cursor turn on, then his icon goes grey after a few moments. My heart starts to trip, making my cheeks begin to flush. Is… he ignoring this?

No. He can’t be. I put in hard work and dedication into this work, and I deserve the respect I’d sent into it. Fucking hell, three fully developed points (his devotion to intellectual work, his effort to step out of public light for Sam’s sake, and his overall lack of ambition for moving forward). I clearly set it out, and ended it properly; I’d proven that Huxley is a Ravenclaw. Case and point, opinion made, the end.

And, here I sit, watching him have the audacity to open it up then close it back. That was my hard work put in there, and he closes it? Who in the name of all that is sacred thinks he’s that above other people to the point where he just ignores--

Oh. He’s back on. Nevermind.

He’s… probably a school student. It’s roughly the time that most classes end, I suppose.

I make a mental apology to him, despite having never ranted directly to him in the first place.

He stays active for a good bit; long enough to show he’s reading. I assume that he’d just close off and message me, but after minutes, I notice a little highlighted comment pop up on the last sentence.

Simon Snow i………. owe you every single possible apology

Each word makes me grin like I haven’t in a while. A wide, cheek-creasing grin. There’s something so sweet to that--so personal. It feels like a note passed to me in a classroom under the tables. Like a cute “Blink if you like me”, although I doubt he has quite an intention.

Nevertheless, it warms my chest, sending my head back as I smile. I’m not sure whether or not it’s the satisfaction of winning, or his words, but I laugh outwardly into the room. It stays with me, reverberating onto my skin and my throat.

I look back at the comment, then leave it untouched. If he won’t remove it, then I won’t either.

With a glance at our personal messages tab, I figure that’s that. Even field, no more argument. No more interaction. It’s a bit of a shame, given the effort I’d just extorted for his sake, that he hasn’t answered in our chat.

While I’m disappointed to close off the document, I smile at it one last time. Sometimes I have to move on from random people, especially when they come on a bit strong.

Except, I find, moments later that I’m wrong about one thing--the moving on. He didn’t just stop his interaction, but instead made a public post.

“@bi-sammy mentioned you in a post!”

This time, I really laugh. A full bellied, hand-covering-mouth laugh.

i guess i have to suck @gayhuxell’s cock now because i was wrong and the bloody arse was right. huxley is a ravenclaw.

#fuck me i guess

I take a minute, rereading over his words a few times before typing a simple answer with my reblog.

i’m available anytime behind a mcdonald’s parking lot

[cottonblush]

model student | hrj

❧ word count: 2,568

❧ genre: fluff, humor

❧ notes: i really didn’t know what to title this but then i was like?? hey the reader is a model student bc they’re like a top student who tutors often and renjun is a literal model student so,,,, watch literally no one get my pun um we love that! also renjun is 500% visuals he could definitely be a model and if anyone disagrees they’re irrelevant:)

renjun really doesn’t want to take more time off of school since he’s already missed a lot

but he’s gaining more popularity in the model industry and doesn’t want to miss out on any opportunities

so after almost a month he’s done bunch of shoots and decides it’s time to go back to school

but when he gets back he’s kinda lost

ok maybe really lost

renjun likes to consider himself a pretty smart person but he’s having a hard time catching up

so his teacher says he’s assigning you as his tutor bc you’re one of the smartest students

and at first renjun is like,, no way josé i can handle this on my own

but then his chemistry teacher starts talking about the born-haber method and it’s at that moment he knows

he fucked up he desperately needs help

he’s supposed to meet you after school the next day and he’s lowkey nervous because,, what if you judge him or look down on him

but then he realizes he just doesn’t?? care what people think

so he gets to the library and at first he doesn’t see anyone so he’s like

gasp!! i’ve been played

but then he notices you sitting on a bean bag chair near a big window

you’re studying what seems to be calculus and you have earbuds in so you don’t hear him approach

just when renjun goes to tap your shoulder you take a sip of water

and end up spitting it out all over your textbook bc you really didn’t hear or see him coming

meanwhile renjun is just standing there wondering if he should apologize or like help clean up or something

and he’s about to ask if you need a napkin

when you jump up from your seat and turn to face him and

??? you smile at him

renjun is officially confused™

shouldn’t you be mad?? he made you ruin your textbook and those aren’t cheap

anyway you take your earbuds out and place your book on the floor and you say

“hi you must be renjun! i’m y/n!”

and renjun is like “ok but your book,, she dead”

you assure him that it’s totally fine it’s your own copy of the book anyway

so then yall sit down at a table after cleaning up the water

and then you clear your throat and ask what he needs help in

renjun tries to be nonchalant about it like “oh i mean i’ve kinda gone for a while but i’m sure i can catch up in no time”

but then his voice cracks in the middle of it and then he’s like!! oh shoot i look dumb

but you’re nice so you just don’t bring it up and decide to assure him

“ii think so too:))))) you seem like a rlly smart person”

renjun doesn’t know how but you seem to speak the language of smiles? and he’s mildly uncomfortable like how can you be this happy after a long day of school

anyway he decides to just explain his predicament and tell you about his modeling gigs and stuff

and once again you surprise him by not freaking out or acting different like most people do

you just nod and smile some more like you totally understand him

and the weird thing is?? it’s actually believable

like renjun really feels like you get him and he thinks to himself?? mayhaps yall could be friends

so you guys finally get to the studying part and you somehow manage to crack a joke every two seconds

even though they’re lame renjun laughs bc his grades sorta depend on you helping him

but once in a while you say something sorta funny and renjun loses it

and it’s weird bc you’re the first person he’s met that he feels comfortable around (other than his friends jeno, donghyuck, jaemin, chenle, and jisung)

anyway so you two cover a couple of subjects and before long the sky is dark and you’re like

oh shoot i gtg!!

and renjun is kinda worried you’ll be in trouble

but then you’re like

lol no it’s just that my cat likes to be fed at a certain time and if she doesn’t get her food she literally attacks me but it’s totally fine ahah living my best life

you and renjun decide to meet 3 times a week so that he can get caught up asap

and ofc renjun’s friends think he’s got a gf so one day they decide to stalk him and they follow him to a starbucks where you said you would meet

and they get out a newspaper and hats and sunglasses and everything

they really think they’re being super sneaky but

everyone is giving them weird looks

except you and renjun bc for once yall are?? actually studying? who would’ve guessed

anyway after about 2 minutes of staring at you two chenle gets bored and decides to confront you

so he gets up and he doesn’t even bother taking off the gigantic trench coat and sunglasses he’d been wearing

“dude are you just not gonna introduce me to your gf/bf i’m so offended,, i thought we were close i even binged the kung fu panda movies with you”

you and renjun look up and see this giant blob of a man(??) shaking his head disapprovingly and yall are just like,, whomstve?? do we know this chump?

and then chenle rolls his eyes and then takes off his disguise and renjun groans and rolls his eyes

“how did i not know it was you chenle,, first of all they’re not my gf/bf and second you’re the kung fu panda fan here are we just gonna ignore the fact that you collect all the figurines-”

ofc chenle ignores renjun and he turns to you and is like

“how do u even tolerate renjun ugh he can be so mean sometimes he’s basically my bully”

and you laugh and tell chenle that renjun isn’t that bad he’s actually kinda sweet sometimes

cue chenle going “oooooooooooooooooooh yall are totally dating”

renjun doesn’t even try to hide it when he kicks chenle in the shin

by now, the rest of renjun’s friends have given up on their disguises and are blatantly staring

and renjun notices them out of the corner of his eye

he drops his head in his textbook and just wants the earth to swallow him up

on the other hand you’re having a blast because renjun’s friends are a hoot!!

you guys have a lot in common and after 10 minutes you’ve already promised chenle see his figurine collection and you tell donghyuck that you’ll totally go sing karaoke with him

renjun is lowkey jealous so he reaches across the table and taps your hand and is like,, can we ditch uh-,, can we ditch

so then you tell the boys that you have to take care of your cat because it’s sick

and technically you’re not lying you do have to feed it

renjun stands up and is like,, dw i’ll walk u home so we can save ur cat!!

so you two grab your stuff and dash and it kinda has the boys suspicious but they’re dumb so they’re all thinking

omg i hope the cat is ok lets all go home and pray for it

anyway so now it’s just you and renjun walking down the street and watching the sun set

and renjun is mentally asking himself why he got jealous back at starbucks

he decides that he got to know you first so maybe he’s friend jealous?? yeah bc that’s totally a thing

and his mind also goes to this new offer he got from a photographer recently

he wasn’t going to take the job but now he figures when he gets back he’ll get to spend more time with you and for some reason that makes him rlly happy

so he tells you about it and is like

“you better be there to catch me up god knows i can’t count on the others”

and you laugh and say ofc you’ll help and you’re super excited for him bc it’s a shoot for a pretty well known brand

when renjun finishes his shoot he’s really excited bc he thinks it turned out amazing and he can’t wait to show you,, and of course the others too

so he gets home and he’s about to text you when he sees this notification for an article about him

it talks about how he’s just a generic teen who does the same poses over and over again and he doesn’t even look that good

and all of a sudden renjun just feels like he’s lost all confidence

it really isn’t like him he’s usually super confident and doesn’t care about what strangers think but

this review came from a famous fashion magazine and he really liked it but now?? not so much

he doesn’t reach out to anyone for a while

and after a couple days you know something’s up because you know he’s home from the shoot already

you go to visit him and you find out he locked himself in his room

and you knock and ask if you can come in but he doesn’t answer

so you just talk to him from outside and hope he’s listening

you start by saying you heard from his manager what happened and that he’s dumb for even caring about some random article

and then you rant about how he’s smart and funny and has pretty much everything going for him

and then last but not least you’re like

“you’re someone i and a lot of other people look up to a lot and i rlly want to see you smile again bc it’s lowkey gorgeous and you’re lowkey gorgeous but anyway”

you figure you’ve said enough so you skedaddle!! and uh usain bolt can step aside bc you’re pretty sure you’ve set a new world record

all this time you’re freaking out bc you have no idea where all of that ‘ur so gorgeous’ talk came from

probably out of your left buttcheek you’re literally so flustered

and renjun is just thinking about what you said and he doesn’t know why but,,, he can’t,, stop smiling

those negative thoughts? poof gone. insecurities? whomst.

ok so a few days pass by and renjun finally goes back to school

and it’s lunch time

and renjun is nervous to see you but he still doesn’t know why

and you’re nervous to see him bc you think you made yourself sound dumb the other day

so you try to distract yourself by talking to jaemin about some gossip you two heard

but then in your peripheral vision you see renjun enter the cafeteria and your heart!! stops

and you still don’t know why but your heart is like all tingly

as renjun approaches it hits you like a brick,,, you like renjun!!!!

snap crackle pop you rlly like this dude!

so you get up mid sentence and you run up to him and you just smile and say “you’re back i missed you:))”

and he says he missed you too and he missed your smiles

and then you’re like “haha that’s nice um wanna go on a date some time,, wow is that a bird in chenle’s hair i should go bye”

renjun is like “wait what did you say” but you’re already: gone

and he runs after you and makes it to the lunch table and you’re sitting there with your face in your hands bc you think you’ve just screwed it up

so he sits down next to you and gently takes your hands away and like just holds them in his and the size difference is so cute bc compared to his hands yours are so tiny!!

at this point the rest of the boys have gone quiet and are staring and chenle is about to interrupt and say something dumb but jeno shuts him up by shoving some ramen down his throat

and he senses the atmosphere (perhaps he’s been binge watching the bachelorette and love island in private so he knows what’s up) and somehow grabs all the other boys and drags them away

as he’s leaving jeno does like a salute in renjun’s direction bc he’s got his bro’s back but

renjun is too busy rn

trying to get you to look at him

also jeno is now pouting bc he really wanted it to be this whole cool scene where he and renjun saluted each other or did some like secret code but,, it’s totally fine:(

anyway so here you are face as red as the chilies in the popeye’s red stick chicken advertisement

you’re just like

why did i say that why did i say that wHY DID I SAY THAT

but then renjun is like

“hey y/n i’d really like to go on a date with you if you could maybe breath first tho”

and you’re like

“…………………………wait what”

“yeah i actually think you’re really cool and i’ve sorta had a crush on you for a while”

“…………………………wait wHAt”

“istg if you say that one more time i’m leaving”

“nono uh i mean are you sure you like me?? i’m not that special or anything”

renjun then hits you on the head and assures you that to him, you’re the most special and beautiful and perfect

and you’re like

uwuwuwuwuwuwuwuwuwuwuwuwuwuwu

“that’s cute aw so glad i have a recording of it”

and renjun stops and says “um recording?? whom-”

“sweetie it’s called acting now ii have something to blackmail you with if you’re ever rude to me”

and then you pull out your phone from your pocket and you stop the voice memo app and save the recording as

'bf’s confession uwu’

and then renjun chases you for the rest of lunch trying to delete the recording and you’re laughing rlly loud and disturbing everyone but

you guys don’t care bc you’re too happy

and tbh everyone thinks you’re a cute couple

like jealous classmates? no how about supportive ones who ship you and write fanfics for yall

it’s cute how renjun can get flustered by some of the stories that get written about you two

and he has to try and keep his 'idc’ façade up but it never works

anyway the point is yall are basically perfect for each other

catch you two on campus at the tuck shop buying snacks for each other

or walking home together

or finding cute lil restaurants to eat at

eventually your relationship goes public and like

at first you get a bit of hate bc some of renjun’s fans are protective

but then they realize you’re a literal squish and then all of renjun’s supporters turn on him and are like

“istg if you hurt y/n i’ll kill you idc how gorgeous you are”

and honestly you love it and you rub it in his face like all the time

“hah maybe i should be the famous one it seems like they like me more”

“shut up or i’ll make chenle do his dolphin laugh every time you try to sleep”

“lol nice try we’re kung fu panda buddies there’s no tearing us apart”

perhaps renjun hates you but at the end of the day he can’t see himself living without you

so it’s all good

[snorlaxlovesme]

i guess i should write down some final thoughts before i dive into the tag and mold my opinions to look like the rest of the fandom’s:

it took a LONG time for the book to pick up speed, imo. and i know a lot of it has to do with me comparing it to The Raven Cycle, which isn’t totally fair, but it’s gonna happen regardless. but it took a long time for the different POVs to finally converge and an even LONGER time for me to even understand the purpose of some of the POVs?? which could just be me being DUMB but still

i was just trying to mentally calculate how many POVs there were in TRC and while my tally is telling a lot it never felt like too many, and i think that’s the biggest thing that bothered me. cdth felt like too many POVs for me to keep track of/to care about and that’s what was frustrating me while reading it and making me take more time than i usually would to finish a book of that size. 

maybe it also had to do with me not understanding the purpose of the Liliana chapters for so long. even after FINALLY getting that we were being shown the destructiveness of Visionaries turned outward + the age shifting conundrum they experienced + Liliana’s love for children i still feel like there had to have been a tighter way to prove that that didn’t involve giving me so much depth to tertiary characters who were going to die anyway

ESPECIALLY because maggie put so much care into making up backstories and quirks to Liliana victims but then just kind of casually mentioned people who were incredibly important to Ronan’s character development in the last series. like every time i got a TRC easter egg i was ridiculously pleased but also upset for people who hadn’t read that series and were starting with Hawk bc people like Gansey/Henry/Blue, Mr. Gray, Greenmantle, Cabeswater, Kavinsky, and Opal were condensed into one or two paragraphs of explanation while fucking Dabney Pitts gets three pages about his lack of courageousness. it was mindboggling

plus i just feel like climax of the book didn’t prove to be as exciting as i had hoped. it wasn’t a gun on gansey or adam parrish making a deal with cabeswater or a fire dragon-level threat in my mind. i didn’t think matthew was going to be killed bc that would dash ronan’s motivations for the next two books. i didn’t have much emotional investment in Hennessy’s other copies so their loss didn’t really sting. and battling the Lace just didn’t really take all that long, i guess. if it had been a harder fight maybe i would have been more invested? it just felt stunted for all that build-up (even though i know its not permanently defeated). just with the terrifying Adam scream and Hennessy’s absolute fear of it i wanted there to be more of a struggle to keep it at bay. 

and this is yet another book in maggie stiefvater’s arsenal that doesn’t come with falling action/a resolution. this one’s a little different bc the climax led straight into a cliffhanger but i have to bring it up bc it’s something about her style that’s always peeved me

and now the good things, shall we?

everything about declan’s perspective is fantastic. i loved how maggie drove it home that his boringness/invisibilty was calculated, that he was as precisely plain as he needed to be to go unnoticed, and that his paranoia was an armor that kept his brothers safe. it’s going to make the next book SO interesting, to see declan unravel bc his camouflaged safety net has been incinerated 

matthew finally learning he’s a dream is as heartbreaking as it is exciting bc i’ve been WAITING for this boy to get a personality other than “loveable” and i might actually SEE it now. also Matthew finally acknowledging that ronan is a dreamer is fun bc in literally ALL of TRC he was like...goofily listening to his headphones whenever that was being discussed. i want a matthew lynch who’s present in his own life and present in the plot. so that bit was cool and i hope it continues to be cool later on in the series

ronan lynch being a BADASS EXPERT DREAMER was so so fun?? especially when the first quarter of the book was ronan bleeding black from his orifices and bringing back murder crabs to his boyfriend’s dorm room and getting kicked out of Harvard for 2kforever. compare that to the end of the book where ronan is a king in his Lindenmere is a thing to behold. i loved ronan being able to show off his dreaming prowess to hennessy and prove just how hard he worked in the entire last series to become the dreamer he is today. he tends to flounder a lot in his own head but dreaming is a thing he’s GOOD at. he’s the fucking Greywaren after all

the complexity of Jordan’s identity crisis was really cool. i loved the concept of her choosing not to paint an original until she got to live an original life. i loved her choosing not to get Hennessy’s newest tattoo. i loved that she was seeing Declan as herself rather than as Hennessy. i HATED declan finding out he was learning to love another dream.

Hennessy’s POV was hard for me to get into bc the second i learned about her timers she just made me SAD and so, so tired. like i felt like i was dragging myself through her perspective the way she was dragging herself through her life and it was exhausting. i hope in the next book she learns more about safe dreaming so i can see what her personality is like without constant fatigue attached to it

and carmen farooq-lane’s perspective was....well. annoying. she seems like a fine person and by the end i was truly starting to enjoy her character but knowing that she was on the antag side of the book (me classifying that as anyone not on the brothers Lynch side of things) made me not thrilled to read about her and Parsifal. her POV always managed to show up right in the middle of something good and turn interesting, actual plot into inaction once again when she continues to bitch about Parsifal being annoying. any time her POV came up i felt like i was ready to stop reading now. so, here’s to her being more interesting in book 2 bc i feel like on my rereads of this book I’m likely to begin skipping her POV like i do Barrington Whelk’s

and who knows how i feel about Bryde?? i enjoyed all of his philosophical monologues, and i give him props for making ronan go find hennessy and finally make the book something i want to read, but like. he’s a bad guy?? flying off on his little ufo with his dreamers to do bad things?? so who knows. the worst kind of villains are ones who start off kind, so that’s as exciting as it is awful

and i’ve already mentioned Liliana so i think that about covers it, for now. book 1 was like a solid 5.5 for me, which was lower than i expected but i plan on rereading it a bunch and will probably like it more with time. i’m someone who legitimately hated The Dream Thieves for a very long time, so opinions are bound to change

[surveys-at-your-service]

Survey #237

just a warning beforehand this survey has some probably tmi stuff.

Which is better: good 'ole southern food or sea food? Despite coming from and still living in, I legitimately enjoy almost NO southern food. Absolute garbage. I don't enjoy much sea food either though, save for shrimp, so I guess that. Have you ever had a very strong spiritual experience? I dunno. What do you think you want to major in at college? I'm an Art & Design major right now. Minor in? English is my minor currently. What song do you have on repeat lately? Quite a lot, actually. What’s something important you could be doing now? I could be working on finishing the draft to my Writing paper and this week's Art History chapter, but... yeah. I procrastinate all to hell, but I "justify" it with me having SO much extra time in the library while Mom takes her classes that I have a great deal of time to just do everything in there. How do you feel about Circuit City going out of business? I have zero clue what that is. About how often do you go on cleaning sprees? LOLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL what're those? What’s the best story you’ve gone over in an English class? The Outsiders. Is your house haunted? Don't think so. What kind of tissues do you prefer? At least thicker as a single sheet of wet paper and soft. But ultimately it's nota a big deal. What face wash do you use? I prefer the Biore charcoal scrub, but I've been out of that for like... ever, and it's pricey, so we haven't bought any more. So now I use this peach scrub stuff Mom gets. I don't like it much because it's kinda abrasive, so probably bad for my skin, but it at least makes it feel cleaner. Do you reject Satan? I don't even know if a head demonic entity exists. Got no opinion on him. Are you violent? Far from it. Do you use google search or yahoo? Google. Was your step mother terrible? Her political views are fucking trash, but she herself is a wonderful person. Do you know anyone who doesn’t care about anything but themselves? HMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM Are you single? If no who are you dating and for how long? I'm single for now. I don't believe prayer or "good vibes" have any power, but nevertheless, I almost DO pray Sara and I will come back together once she figures herself out and one of us is brave enough to move. Do you enjoy going for walks? Nowadays, no, but only because I'm still recovering from muscle atrophy in my legs, so it hurts quiiite a bit. But in a way, yes, I do enjoy walking as I know it's good for my legs, but it's still painful - but improving immensely. Before it started to get real bad, I fucking loved going on walks down the path by Sara's. When it wasn't cOLD AND WINDY AS A MOTHERFUCKER What are your favorite accessories? Do piercings count? If yes, totally those. And spiked chokers are fucking hot. I'll wear mine again someday, just fkn watch me. Do you wear makeup on a regular basics? Not at all. I am asking for *genuinely* black eye shadow and also quality black lipstick for Christmas, though, for when I do wear makeup. Ours suuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck. When was the last time you really established your favorite TV show? Oh, idk. It's been years. Write one lyric that really explains the way your life is going as of now? HAHA I'm actually listening to NSP's "Danny Don't You Know" right now and if "you're just going through an awkward phase from 12 to 29" aIN'T ME- Do you ever have any fantasies that involve certain celebrities? Who? Yes. Take an. idk. Wild guess. You can read like one or two of my surveys and already be absolutely sure lmao What is your favorite brand of shoe? Where can you buy these shoes? Converse, and... multiple places?? Does anyone ever judge you for something you naturally cannot help? Oh, I'm sure. Do you support homosexuality in general? Why do you or why don't you? Of fucking course I do. It's natural, and especially after realizing I was bi and experiencing a genuinely loving female-female relationship, I've only grown more ferocious in standing for gay rights. Fuckin try to tell me I can't love her without some sky demon firing me into Hell for it. I'll bring sunscreen. If you had your own personal dance crew, what would you name it and why? I dunno??? Has anyone ever called you an exact replica of one of your parents? Agree? No. Have you ever claimed to be in love when you knew you really weren’t? NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO. I don't joke around with that shit. If you had the chance to meet an annoying celebrity, would you still do it? No?????? Why would I want that??????????? Do you ever lie in the grass during summer or are you afraid of ticks? 1.) That sounds boring and too hot and 2.) I'm fucking terrified of all parasites, so ticks are zero exception. Does it bother you when you see slutty girls getting all the cute guys? *chaotic eye twitching* In winter, would you rather wear jacket or hoodies? Why is this? HOODIES! Mega cozy. Would you consider yourself a good singer or are you tone deaf? Depends on the song, but generally, I don't think I'm real good. My voice isn't stable. Do you think regrets are better left unspoken or should they be out loud? Y'know, a real good question for once. I think maybe... it depends, I guess? Some things are just better unsaid, sometimes vice-versa. I suppose it depends on who you're telling, too. What color is your remote? Does it have any special/interesting features? Uh I know it's black, but that's it. I never use the TV. Name a time when you cried the most: The night of the breakup when Mom drove out to get me (I was walking to his house to talk bc she wouldn't take me), and she had to physically hold me down when we got in the house because I dashed and she knew I was about to do something stupid. I just fucking collapsed. That night is so blurry, but I'll never forget the crying. Fucking NOBODY deserves to go through that goddamn night. What color is your keyboard? It's black, though the keys are rimmed with red light. Have you ever thought about suicide? Too many times. Please please please please seek help if you have even a moment's consideration about it. How do you feel about Obama? I don't know much about him politically, but he was funny as fuck, I do know that. Seems like a chill dude. What was the last lie you told? I dunno, something little. Name 3 things in your purse (or wallet): My Harley Quinn wallet, hand sanitizer, aaaaand my keys. What time does your favorite TV show come on? *shrug* Where is the scariest place you’ve ever been? I haven't been to many seriously "scary" places, honestly... so idk, really. Do you like string cheese? NO. What color was the coolest insect you’ve seen? No clue. Probably some butterfly or moth. Do you own any pink clothing? ... How do I not know this. How do you usually style your hair? It's directed to the right with no part through it and swoops over/close to my right eye. Do you use anything to whiten your teeth? I'm also asking for whitening strips for Christmas. .-. Ah, how gift desires change as you grow. I took awful care of my teeth during the worst of my depression, so yeah, I need them. I'm honestly stunned they're in a decent condition now. Have you ever collaborated with anyone on a project (not for school)? Hmm, don't believe so. What is (going to be) your career? I refuse to drop my career aspiration of a photographer. Not giving up on that no matter what. What is the difference between an alligator and a crocodile? Crocodiles' teeth protrude both upwards and downwards over their lips while alligators' only show downwards; crocs have a more tapering snout, alligators' are more rounded; and crocs are generally bigger. I didn't obsessively watch Animal Planet for nothing, y'all. :^) Were you breastfed as a baby? Yeah. That woman had five goddamn kids with no epidural or anything. She ain't afraid of no pain, and she's also like, MEGA into child health, safety, etc., and while formula-feeding is completely fine and valid, it's factual breast milk is a lot healthier for babies. What does your favorite shirt look like? Man, that's hard to pick. My most comfortable and well-fitting one is a Metallica "King Nothing"-inspired design, which is black and just has some gnarly skull designs 'n shit on it. HA HA WAIT, found it! This is it. Just a few days ago though, my mom's coworker went to the NSP 10th anniversary show in Chicago AND SHE GOT ME A FUCKING SHIRT BC SHE KNOWS I LOVE THEM AND I LOVE IT SO MUCH I SQUEALED SO LOUD AND SMILED MY FACE IN HALF. What is the cutest breed of puppy in your opinion? Do not EVEN with this, omfg I couldn't even try. What is the cutest baby animal in general? Have you, like, SEEN baby meerkats????????????? They're not the cutest for the first, like, two weeks (BUT still cute!!), but once they're outside the burrow? Jesus fuckin CHRIST they are the cutest creatures known to the galaxy and beyond. If we're talkin' like, cutest from birth, maybe cats. I adore kittens. Do you have some sort of odd fascination with anything? Perhaps my "strangest" is what's referred to as "vulture culture," which is essentially using naturally-deceased (usually wild) animals for art, such as those popular crystal-covered skulls, necklaces, creative use of wet specimens, stuff like that. I find some odd beauty and respect in creating art of the dead - it's like... making death beautiful and honoring the creature by immortalizing it in an art form. I personally photograph roadkill (that shit's confused the fuck outta drivers lmao) with the goal of forcing the brutality of it onto viewers and just make you think "okay yeah I need to drive more carefully." I don't know if that technically qualifies as vulture culture as I don't really... use the corpses, but nevertheless, I really enjoy doing it. I do kinda question the morality of it, like you can't ask an animal "hey do you wanna be art when ur dead?", so you're left to decide for it, but I think I lean ever so slightly more towards it being respectful, showing the beauty of its life. I WANT TO SAY HOWEVER, I DO FUCKING NOT support hunting trophies. I even question taxidermy outside of being from hunting considering you're not really making art, something new, some sort of message, out of it. There's no creative purpose other than to show "hey look at this dead animal!!", and besides that, it kinda creeps me out. Wow sorry for the ramble, I'm just into this stuff. Who was the last person to text you? Sara. What did they say? Paraphrased, that life has been a serious cunt to her lately. Which is true. have you ever broken someones heart? He fuckin acted like it after two goddamn weeks. I suppose maybe Jason, though I can't really tell you that since he fucked off after the breakup, so it's not like I was around him. I'll admit his health and general demeanor was withering as time led up to it (I knew something was wrong, he'd just never tell me), so he was obviously suffering. I feel awful for that shit, seeing I was apparently that goddamn stress-inducing. Had yours broken? LMAOOOOOOOOOOOOO I think the whole Internet knows, oops. Do you consider past relationships a waste of time? No. Well, maybe just one. I kinda wanna say Tyler was, but then again, as I was healing, it showed exactly what I would not tolerate. So I guess it had a silver lining. Do you think you’ll be around to see the world end? I wanna say no, but I wouldn't be surprised. It's gonna be climate change (reason #1 for me), the super volcano finally blowing, or nuclear war. Scientifically, we are far, far, far from overdue for another mass extinction anyway. Do you believe in second chances? Yeah, sometimes. Depends. Do you swear? Way more than needed. Swearing a lot just became part of my normal vernacular through exposure to Jason and his family lmao. I was just about always there, and whew does his mom swear like a sailor. Italian New Yorker to the core. To me, "swear words" are just normal vocabulary. What is the nearest photo to you of? A family of meerkats on my wall. Are you good at being quiet? Sure? Who has your heart? I'm guessing you mean romantically? Two people are tearing at it, then. One that's fuckin stupid and needs to stop. Do you like it that way? No. No. Sara is, realistically, the best match for me and a very healthy partner for me. But now that for whatever goddamn reason Jason sneaked back into the picture (metaphorically; he hasn't reached out or anything), hints of obsession/addiction are coming back. I know it's fucking creepy, but I was legitimately obsessed with him. I sent him a perfectly polite and genuine email of ME apologizing to HIM, and I guess that just shot my feelings back up. God, typing this makes me realize to a fuller degree that this is an awful idea. Where is this person? Sara's probably at home; hell if I know where the other is. When was the last time you saw them? I saw Sara this past February. Jason, not since February of '17. Do you prefer desktops or laptops? Laptops because of portability. Sunrise, or sunset? I think maybe sunrise, considering the colors tend to be more pastel. But both are gorgeous. What kind of mood are you in? A confused as hell one. The Jason thing is driving me insane, and TMI WARNING I've been dealing with a fucking ginormous libido that I'm guessing sprouts from my new birth control, and it led me to doing to thing I said I'd never ever do because I only want to share that experience with my partner. Y'know, the "m" word. Saying it feels too weird and dirty. That's the problem: it's so instilled in my head that masturbation is lustful and just "wrong" that my brain is still trying to process that it's okay and natural and, as I found, relieving. I had to look it up and everything to convince my shameful ass I wasn't being "dirty." Hey, on that note: Planned Parenthood offers way goddamn more than abortion, friends. I swear it's beyond wild what I used to believe. But yeah ANYWAY, I'm just feeling weird and still kinda "tail between my legs" today. Do you like fans that blow directly on you or oscillate? Depends on how hot I am. What is one thing you worry about most in long-term goals? "not having enough money to get there.." <<<< YUP this. Right before you fall asleep, what is your usual position? It's hard to tell considering you're falling into unconsciousness... but I THINK on my left side, hugging an edge of the blanket to me. When you have sex, do you keep your eyes closed or open when finishing? I wouldn't know; I've only ever been on the brim before freaking out and we stopped because I was literally scared of how overwhelming the feeling was. That and my family was home and I was having trouble staying quiet lmao. When you have mail do you open the biggest one first, or doesn’t matter? Uhhhh. I honestly don't get mail enough to answer this. I'd probably go for the smallest? When you wake up what is the first thing you usually look for? My phone. Think of the last habit/addiction you quit. What replaced it? Hm. I really don't know. Your phone rings but you don’t know the number, would you answer it? No sir-ree. Do you always take a shower after you have sex? I didn't always back then. Do you let your girl/boyfriend drive, or do you prefer to? 1.) I don't drive and 2.) I'm single. The last time you had sex was it in the morning, afternoon or night? Hell if I remember.

[0tivez]

Hello!!! Im so sorry for replying so late, I've been feeling odd-is (?). Things irl seemed to pile up out of nowhere and I had a shitton of tasks to finish that appeared out of nowhere lmfao. I also spoil a bit here bc yes so if anyone read this, it has spoilers :p

ANYWAY, Nanami's was so bittersweet imo. It does fit him, it was very peaceful at least (or as peaceful death can be ig), and im glad he healed his inner child by not cursing Yuuji with his death. I like that their deaths have impact ono the story and development of the characters instead of just shock value or just bc people have to die, ya know?? I've been getting so much get/stsg art on my dash and it hurts my feelings :,) The urge to tag you in every stsg post I come across bc it reminds me of you <3 I think your blog kinda introduced me to the ship?? I don't usually ship characters but I think they're really neat still!

I was Nanami biased at first and then I kinda just push away his death and then I remember bc off I do and I also feel bad bc I forget. To be fair, I don't know if I forget as a coping mechanism or if im actually drifting away from my initial obsession lmfao

WHY WOULD U CHECK THE STATUS ON THE WIKI DONT DO THAT TT

Adidas? im dying. I didn't know that but now I do. and Gojo is huge? like every part of his body is apparently humougously big and I can't bc I picture him to be 5'4 or smth. 5'6 max. I live for people finding this kind of facts of the characters. Fills me up with joy, I think its sweet.

YES I TOTALLY GET YOU. I don't like the fact that Eren dies but Levi lives. It hurts to see Eren grow from a 15 (I think he was 15?) year old filled with hope and this goal to save everyone and optimism to his current self...I think it hurts the most bc I grew up with him bc I started watching when I was like 12 I think?? and now im 18 :,) And Levi never being able to find peace is gonna hunt me until the day I die lmfao

It seems like every author likes to torture their most popular character (is Levi the most popular still?? I think so but im not sure).

I LOVE READING "PREQUELS" BEFORE THE ACTUAL THING BC IT HITS DIFFERENT. And now we get season 2 in 2023 and im so excited!!!! I don't know how much of the manga they're gonna be able to animate but I really wanna see Nanami's death for some reason. I just wanna see it in a different medium, even though if its gonna make me cry

ANNOYING MC. all my friends hate Tokyo revengers, specially the animation, I swear. They rage. Still, I don't know much about Tokyorev except that the op is fucking amazing and I love it. I Also like the art style of the manga though I haven't read it; I've seen a few panels tho.

I think with aot openings they keep getting better and better as well. The one that sounds like and European anthem makes me happy and the Shinzo wo sasageyo nostalgia. I ALSO LISTENED TO THE ENVANGELION OP AND ITS AMAZING. I was watching a compilation of different performances by Yuzuru Hanyu on tiktok after the olympics (to heal my heart) and Apparently he skated to that song once and now Its gonna play at my funeral bc its really wow.

I'm so glad you get where I was coming from as well TT I was on a constant state of anxiety a few days ago and I couldn't help but overthink every little thing I did lmfao.

Did Fujimoto actually write a soft melon bread author's note after killing someone?? Lmfao I love that. Reminds me of AO3 author's notes in way. I think im gonna read chainsawman bc of this. I need to fix my schedule to make space for reading it tho. I finished my first manga on Monday I think?? It was a short manga of 5 chapters and it was sweet I think?? The name was kamisama ga uso wo tsuku or God's lie in english! It was very bittersweet as well.

Hope you've been having a good weekend and have a good day/night!

- 🥳 anon

(answer under the cut for the length)

ahh it's okay! hope you're feeling better now :)

nanami's death ripped my heart. no lie. his death might even be the saddest. the man just wanted to live a peaceful life, y'know? i also got to thinking the other day and i think an underrated/sad death was mimiko and nanako's. they died while trying to revive the person they called their father basically, and one o fthem had to watch her twin die brutally. sukuna's rampage was wild but come on, this was probably one of the top 3 brutal shit he did. killing two teen girls without hesitation

finally my satosugu propaganda is succeeding. i myself am not a shipper, but i have come to terms with my interest in satosugu (and some more). i used to think it was cringy (shipping) but my friend said who's gonna say anything and i was like holy shit yeah!!!! as long as you don't go around harassing people, it's good. tho with stsg, it seems that non shippers harass shippers more lol

gojo is MASSIVE. he's already 6'3. i just want to know geto's and toji's canonic heights, the ones we know are all fanon

i think levi would agree. he cared about eren so much and to watch him die like that, kinda similar to how erwin died, must have traumatized him a lot. to even say "we have to kill eren" is so fucking saddening. same with sasha's death. both hanji and levi looked awful, they were basically parent figures to them. and don't even get me started on hanji.... she's my favorite character always, for eternity. huh. maybe i just really like semi serious/childish entp's.

know what i want to see with nanami? that scene where the luck dude kicks nanami's body and feels like he's kicking a wall 😫 and geto's shower scene 👀

i'm extremely excited for season 2 i can not even tell you. i have been waiting for this for so long..... i will go feral. LMAOO the way one of my biggest motivations to keep going is to see jjk's ending animated 0////0 that's between us

i HATE tokyo revengers' animation. it's so...... inconsistent? i checked its studio and apparently they also animated berserk 2016 so.......

i've heard that the manga is better tho descending in quality. i really like the character designs, especially sanzu's. i should really continue reading it but i want to reread jjk and csm first and then finish demon slayer lol

wait YUZURU SKATED TO A CRUEL ANGEL'S THESIS????? NO FUCKING WAY HOW DO I NOT KNOW ABOUT THIS????????

yeah he did lol he just really likes melon bread. he always talks about it on his twitter. i just think both gege and fujimoto are neat, would love to see them interact sometimes. i think gege congratulated fujimoto for csm getting serialized. ALSO fujimoto's art style is too good, he also drew nobara. it should come up when you write his name and nobara lol

aah you would love fujimoto's one shot look back! it's not too long but the art style is incredible as always and the story is too fucking beautiful. i think it won the harvey award this year?? it was either that or csm (i checked it it was csm) but still, you should check it out! you would love csm too, it's my favorite manga of all time. i'll try to check god's lie too, heard pretty great things about it

also once you feel comfortable for it, you have to tag me on those fanarts or else 🔫

good day/night babe

[assholemurphy]

i am incredibly sad that i only have like, 1 extra adderall left (i may have to find somewhere to buy more from, since i only get like, enough for the month with my prescription, the only reason i had extras this month is bc it took a week for me to be able to get my prescription filled, so i literally had to go a week w/o adderall and i don’t wanna do that again, ever, it was hell, esp bc i ran out of sudafed, too, that week) bc holy fucking shit am i awake. i’m getting so much done. i took a shower and then highlighted all of the units in my script, which is usually hard to focus on bc it’s so dull, and i got another 15 units done, so i’ve only got like 30 left and i’m still wide awake and focused AF. like, i’m p sure that colors have smells, but also, like, the world is so intense and amazing. i feel fucking fantastic. i kinda wanna go skydiving, but like, not until i get my hw done, ya know?

but i’ve got 30 more units to do, then i’ve gotta make a graph, but after that, i’m done with the project and can move on. depending on how i feel/what time it is when i get that done (bc if it’s past 3:30/4a, i can’t sleep, i’ve got to stay up bc if not, i won’t wake up in time for class, but also, if i still feel this awake, then there’s rly no point to sleeping bc i won’t be able to, anyway) i might sleep, or i might start working on my playwriting assignment (bc that’s due mon @ 2p and i’ve got to write 6 1-min monologues for my characters) and watch the first 30min of shrek: the musical (bc i gotta have that done by fri @ 9a bc we’re watching it in class and that’s where we’re picking up at since the audio wouldn’t work in class, so it’s hw to watch the first 30 of it, but we can watch all of it, if we want, idk if i will, i’ve got too much to do and if i watch all of it, then there’ll be no point of going to class bc i hate rewatching things bc i’ve got a damn near eidetic memory for movies/books and certain other things, depending on how much i’m paying attention, but almost always books/movies unless i find them boring and don’t care abt them, so it would be stupid to watch all of it and then be bored in class), then maybe read some of after the fall (the script i’m pulling my monologue from for acting i) and do the assignment that goes with that (bc it’s due tues @ 9:30a). after that i should do my therapy hw (we’re still working on stuck points and i’ve got like, 5 more sheets, maybe more, to fill out) bc that’ll be due at my next counselling appt, which i think is next week, i’ll have to call them, but it’ll take abt an hour and it’ll emotionally drain me.

i think that’s abt it for hw, tho, but all of that’ll take roughly 9 hours, which means i def won’t be able to do it all tonight, but i can get most of it done if i don’t sleep, which means i’ll have more time for sleep/writing/literally everything else on the weekend. i might even be lucky enough to be able to get drunk. maybe. i’d have to start drinking at like, 3p and stop at like, 6p for it to all be out of my system so i can get to bed by 2/3a. so that’s a maybe. but a nice maybe.

ofc, i’ve got non hw stuff to do, too. i’ve got to make a list of roommate requirements so i can start looking for a new one (i’ve also got to talk to goldilocks to see when she plans to move out, bc like hell am i moving out, all the bills except her half of the lease are in my name and most of the furniture (aside from her personal stuff and the coffee table) is mine and i don’t want to have to move ALL of it out and into a new place, plus it’s her decision to not be roommates, so it’s on her, not me, and i won’t budge, not this time). then i’ve got to get my study/organization binder made so things’ll be easier to keep track of. i’ve got to do some cleaning (taking out the trash, cleaning up my side of the living room (we didn’t divide it, it’s just where the couches are so we stick to our couches most of the time) and the coffee table). then laundry, gotta do laundry, i’m almost out of socks.

ofc, i might have to start on my part of the second part of the group project. i wanna design costumes for the play, if neither of the others is doing that, which i hope they aren’t, bc i don’t know enough abt any of the other elements of production to do something else. but if i have to, i can try to do sound, maybe, that’s my second choice. so, i may have to start on that this weekend. i’ll talk to hurricane bianca and tim the toolman taylor and see what they’re doing for it probs on fri if not tomorrow at rehearsal. then i can start on my part and get it finished ahead of time to prove i’m capable, when i’ve got my shit together and am not having a breakdown every week. then, after i talk to prof j abt what i’m supposed to do for the show (something with finding times for freeze frames and spotlights, which is fun, but i’m worried my comdic timing isn’t the same as everyone else’s bc i’m autistic, so my sense of humor is a bit skewed, ya know? but anyway, prof j specifically told goldilocks (who is stage manager, i’m one of two assistant stage managers) to have me do it, so i’m afraid i’m being set up to fail bc i know nothing abt theatre, rly, and i’m always paranoid abt these things, but i’m also kinda thinking it might be bc she actually thinks i can do it, which sounds unrealistic, but she’s not a mean person, so i’m willing to bet it’s that one. but i need to ask her what all she needs me to do, bc goldilocks has no clue, which was so fucking helpful, what a great stage manager she is (no, srsly, idk if i bitched abt this earlier or not, but she’s absolutely horrible at this shit so far and i can’t stand working under her bc i hate working under incompetent ppl bc i feel it makes me look incompetent, too, if the job isn’t done right, even if it’s not my fault bc i wasn’t in charge and i’m always, always terrified to look stupid or incapable in the eyes of others). so, i’ve got to ask prof j abt what all i need to do bc i’m p sure the advice given to me by the lighting tech (who is apparently a decent stage manager, tho i doubt it, truly, she doesn’t have the personality for it, she’s too pushy and it makes her hard to work with, but that might just be bc i don’t like her as a person, so i’m reserving judgement until i see her in the position) is wrong bc it makes no sense, is way too hard, doesn’t actually help with anything and gives me a headache (bc mapping out the goddamn blocking is impossible when the actors do diff things every fucking night, wtf??? do the same shit, you assholes! but it’s also useless bc it doesn’t tell anyone where the spotlights/freeze frames should be, and blocking isn’t my job, it’s the other asm’s (who i don’t have a nickname for, but will probs have before the end of rehearsal) so why she’s not doing it, idk???) so i’ll ask tomorrow.

so, i’m looking at 9 hours hw now, then 30 min of cleaning, 3 hours of other paperwork shit, and potentially 4 hours of hw and 2 hours of theatre stuff this weekend. which means i can get at least 10 hours of sleep per night and get some writing done, if i finish most of my hw now. i think that’s worth one sleepless night. it rly is. so, here’s to hoping for at least one day off this week.

but if i don’t sleep, i’ll probs crash after rehearsal tomorrow night, unless i can convince my friends to come over and hang out, since they won’t be here this weekend and i kinda need their help making the roommate requirement list bc otherwise it’s just gonna be like ‘can’t leave time on the microwave after they’re done using it’ and ‘must know how to use headphones when others are studying in the living room’ and ‘must not whine when i want to stay in my room and do work instead of being around them 24/7′ (tho, goldilocks doesn’t spend much time with me anymore, which is fine, i guess, but it’s a complete 180 from what she used to do and honestly, i’m offended bc i caved and started staying in the living room and now it just feels weird not being in the living room and idk what to do abt any of this). i need real things, too, like, big concerns that i’ll forget abt when writing it, and i need to know if my requirements are petty or things that aren’t specific to most ppl, just goldilocks. and it’d be nice to hang out with them and shit.

anyway, this is rly long and rambly, but i rly need to vent all of this shit somewhere, it helps me sort my brain out. i don’t actually expect anyone to read it and you can always blacklist my personal tag ‘iz says stuff’ if you don’t want this shit on your dash. but if you do read them, then you’re always welcome to come to my inbox and be like ‘quit bitching and get back to work, dumbass’ or something.