#it’s a way of self expression I understand

[foldingfittedsheets]

When I was getting my associates degree I took a Mythology class that I loved. But one of the girls in class was absolutely off the rails conservative Christian which made things… interesting.

The professor started off the class by being like, “Mythology is stories associated with religion.”

This girl. Haaaated that. She was like, “No, Christianity is true. It’s not mythology.” Mythology was delivered in the same tone as someone trying to spit excrement from their mouth.

The professor raised her eyebrows and said laconically, “Yes, most people believe their religion is the real one, that’s part of it, and the stories surrounding religion are referred to as mythology.”

The girl stewed in a hateful sullen rage. I truly don’t understand why she didn’t drop the class but perhaps it was court mandated education. We all expected her to drop the class but she dug in like a tick and derailed discussions as often as she could.

On a different occasion the professor was drawing a comparison between social constructs like gender. The girl raised her hand. The class hushed to hear her announce, “It’s just a fact that women like domestic work and even though men are awful and stinky we just have to love them anyway. It’s biology, we’re just hardwired like that.”

I was sitting next to my friend a baby gay Jewish girl and our eyes met in mutual hilarity while the professor tried to pretend she hadn’t just been stricken with a stress induced migraine while she steered the class away from that landmine.

The next sticking point was a week later when the professor informed us that many mythologies have overlapping events like floods but these didn’t necessarily happen in such literal terms. It was a metaphorical way to process and understand the world.

This girls hand shot up. I watched the professor exercise extreme self control to keep her expression bland before calling on her.

“The world did flood. And Noah saved all the animals. Before the flood all the water was in a dome outside the earth and then the dome broke and the world flooded. All of it.”

The whole class stared at her as if struggling to comprehend the overlap of her acceptance that the world was round while also firmly believing that there had previously been a barrier that held up all of the earths water before god smashed it in a fit of pique.

She raged under the attention, glaring balefully at our astonished faces.

The professor stared at her blankly, unable to form words to such a bizarre belief. I wanted to ask clarifying questions- what they’d drunk before the dome broke, if there were rivers or lakes prior, or did the dome allow some rain in somehow, but then I really looked at her.

She had the eyes of a feral, cornered animal who regarded any deviation in worldview from her own to be a physical assault on her person. Like the professor, I said nothing, and after a wretchedly long pause class moved on.

[kiragecko]

Look, his brand of incredible self-confidence paired with crippling self-doubt is really unintuitive to a lot of people!

Tim thinks he is capable of doing pretty much anything. He recognizes that there are a few people better then him, and is always on the look-out to learn something new, but he almost never doubts his ability to learn, or his assumption that he'll be one of the best after a short practice period.

He's also never sure if his best will be satisfying to others. That it won't be brushed off, or criticized. Like, he doesn't ASSUME things will go poorly, but he also never relies on them going well.

Writing him as secure in his abilities is correct. Writing him as secure in HIMSELF can be out-of-character, depending on the situation.

-

I've been in similar places as a former gifted kid with ADHD.

I COULD do pretty much any assignment given me. Math, science, language arts - they were all easy. If I didn't understand, it took one question, or a quick read, to get up to speed. I was good at running, and most physical skills that didn't require hand-eye coordination. I at least THOUGHT I was good at acting. Teachers liked talking with me.

But I had zero confidence in myself. I couldn't trust myself to finish assignments or show up to events. I'd misread instructions, or get distracted when they were being given. I'd answer questions in ways that annoyed the other students. I could never make friends, or even understand why what the other kids were doing was fun.

I both thought I COULD do anything, and was terribly insecure about everything I did. Was I doing it the way people wanted? Would people change their mind and then blame me? Would people not care, because it was ME doing it? Any mistake would be my fault, no matter how impossible it would have been for me to avoid it!

-

An even more subtle challenge in writing Tim is that he rarely SAYS negative things about himself. He just acts in ways consistent with BELIEVING those things.

He doesn't say, "nobody likes me!" He just assumes nobody will notice if he disappears for a week, and accepts shallow relationships where nobody knows the real him, and says yes to every person who asks to date him, unless he remembers he's dating someone else.

He doesn't say, "I deserve to be treated the way I am." He just blames himself when his dad doesn't show up to things, and agrees to bonding activities he doesn't like, and pretends to appreciate gifts that show a deep misunderstanding of his character.

So, some people pick up the vibes he's giving off, but then write him explicitly expressing them, which reads wrong. And other people miss the vibes, and write him as only confident and a bit obnoxious, which is also off.

Tim is SUBTLE.

it kills me when people try to characterize tim as insecure and lacking confidence in himself or his abilities. like please. a guy who goes "uwaaahh maybe im just not that good at anything and i don't bring much to the table and i don't think anyone actually likes me and im just not good enough" would have given up by failed clone attempt #26. be for fucking real

[woozinhos]

Hiiiiii okay so reader has a crush on mingyu and mingyu doesn’t care for her and wonwoo gets tired of her ass so he fucks her on mingyus bed ( ROUGHH) till all she can do is cry and scream ( he fucks her dumb basically)

Even on his bed I’m still better

Notes: stop why are all my fics so long today and why are they all hitting so good!

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Juicy smut below the cut

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The atmosphere was lively and loud as you stood chatting with Mingyu at the party. He was his usual charming self, laughing and joking with you, but you couldn't help feeling a flutter of nerves every time he smiled at you. You had been nursing a crush on him for months, and every time you saw him, your heart would race. You couldn't shake the feeling that there was something between you two, even if he didn't seem to notice.

Wonwoo stood off to the side, watching the two of you with a growing sense of frustration. He had been trying to get your attention all night, but it seemed like you were too caught up in your conversation with Mingyu to notice him. Mingyu was polite and friendly, but you couldn't help but notice that he didn't seem to reciprocate your feelings. He laughed at your jokes and smiled at your attempts to flirt, but there was always a hint of detachment in his expression. You tried not to let it get to you, but deep down, it stung. You couldn't understand why he wasn't interested in you when you were so obviously smitten with him.

As the conversation with Mingyu continued, you found yourself growing more and more flustered. You tried to steer the conversation in a direction that would make him realize your feelings, but he remained oblivious. You felt a pang of jealousy as he joked with another girl nearby, laughing at something she said. Wonwoo's frustration only grew as he watched you pine after someone who clearly wasn't interested. Wonwoo finally couldn't take it anymore. He walked over to where you and Mingyu were standing and inserted himself into the conversation.

"Hey," he said, his voice firm. "Can I talk to you for a minute?" Mingyu looked a bit surprised at Wonwoo's interruption, but he nodded and stepped away to give you two some privacy. You followed Wonwoo to a quieter corner of the room, your heart racing with a mix of anticipation and nerves.

Once you were alone, Wonwoo turned to face you, his expression a mix of frustration and concern. "You need to stop," he said bluntly. "Stop flirting with Mingyu and wasting your time." You were taken aback by his bluntness, but you couldn't deny that a part of you had been expecting this conversation. "Why?" you asked, trying to keep your voice steady. "He's not interested, I know that, but I can't just give up." Wonwoo's frustration grew as he saw the stubborn look on your face.

"You're so blind," he said, his voice rising slightly. "Mingyu doesn't care about you like that, and you're just setting yourself up for heartbreak." You crossed your arms, defensive. "You don't know that," you retorted. "Maybe he just needs a little push." Wonwoo shook his head, clearly exasperated. "No, he doesn't. He's made it clear that he doesn't see you that way. You're just wasting your time chasing after someone who will never love you back."

His words stung, but you couldn't deny the truth in them. You had seen the way Mingyu acted around you, the way he never reciprocated your flirting or gave any indication that he was interested. But despite that, you still held onto hope that things could change. "Maybe I'm just being optimistic," you said quietly, looking down at the ground. Wonwoo couldn't hold back any longer. He stepped closer to you, his eyes burning with a mix of frustration and longing.

"No, you're being stubborn and stupid," he said, his voice firm but tinged with desperation. "Because I'm the one who loves you. I've been right here, watching you chase after someone who doesn't deserve you." Your eyes widened in surprise as his words sank in. You had never seen Wonwoo like this before, so raw and vulnerable. "What?" you whispered, your heart racing. "You...you love me?" Wonwoo nodded, his expression a mixture of relief and vulnerability.

"Yes," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "I've loved you for a long time, but I never said anything because I thought you were in love with Mingyu." Your mind was racing as you tried to process his confession. You had always thought of Wonwoo as a close friend, but you never considered the possibility that he felt something more for you. "Why didn't you say anything?" you asked, your voice shaking slightly. Wonwoo ran a hand through his hair, looking frustrated and defeated.

"I didn't want to ruin our friendship," he said. "I didn't want to risk losing you if you didn't feel the same way. So I kept quiet and watched you chase after someone who doesn't deserve you." Wonwoo looked at you with a mixture of hope and pleading in his eyes.

"Please," he said softly. "Give me a chance. I know I'm not perfect, but I'll do anything to make you happy. Just stop chasing after someone who doesn't appreciate you and let me show you how much I care." You were torn. On one hand, you had spent so long pining after Mingyu that it felt like giving up on him would be letting go of a part of yourself. But on the other hand, there was Wonwoo, standing in front of you, confessing his love and offering you a chance at something real.

You looked into his eyes, searching for any sign of doubt or hesitation. But all you saw was sincerity and longing. You took a deep breath, steeling yourself for the decision you were about to make. "Okay," you said quietly. "I'll give you a chance." Wonwoo's eyes lit up with hope and a small smile tugged at the corners of his lips. "Really?" he asked, as if he couldn't believe what he was hearing. "You mean it?" You nodded, a small smile of your own forming.

"Yeah, I mean it," you said. "I'm tired of chasing after someone who doesn't want me. I'm ready to give you a chance." Wonwoo's eyes darkened with a mix of desire and determination. "I want to show you how much I've been wanting you," he said, his voice low and seductive. "Will you let me?" You felt a shiver run down your spine at the intensity in his voice. The way he was looking at you, as if you were the only person in the world, made your heart race with anticipation.

"Yes," you whispered, your voice barely above a whisper. "Show me." Wonwoo's grip on your wrist was firm as he led you upstairs, his strides long and purposeful. He didn't even hesitate as he opened the door to Mingyu's room and pulled you inside, closing the door behind him. The room was dark, with only the soft glow of a lamp illuminating the space. Wonwoo pressed you against the wall, his body flush against yours. He pinned you against the wall, his hands roaming over your body as he pressed his lips against your neck.

"You have no idea how long I've wanted to do this," he murmured against your skin, his breath hot and heavy. Wonwoo's words were rough and possessive, his desire for you clear in his voice. He pulled back to look at you, his eyes burning with intensity. "Let me show you how much better I am than him," he repeated, his fingers tracing a path down your body. "Let me make you forget all about Mingyu." Wonwoo smirked as he continued to press you against the wall, his hands moving lower and lower down your body.

"Even on his bed, I'll still be better," he whispered in your ear, his voice dripping with confidence. "I'll make you scream my name and forget all about that idiot." Wonwoo pushed you onto the bed, his body following closely behind. He hovered over you, his eyes raking over your body with a possessive hunger. "You're mine now," he growled, his hands roaming over your curves. "No more Mingyu, no more thinking about anyone else but me."

"Yes," you gasped out, your breath catching in your throat as he continued to touch you. "I'm yours. Only yours." Wonwoo's lips curled into a satisfied smirk at your words. He leaned down and captured your lips in a searing kiss, his tongue delving into your mouth and exploring every inch. As he kissed you, his hands continued to roam over your body, his touch growing more urgent and possessive with each passing moment.

Wonwoo broke the kiss, his lips trailing down your neck and across your collarbone. He nipped and sucked at your skin, leaving a trail of marks in his wake. "You have no idea how long I've dreamed of having you like this," he murmured against your skin, his voice thick with desire. "All mine, writhing and moaning beneath me." Wonwoo's hands made quick work of the fabric of your dress, slowly revealing more and more of your skin. He pushed the material down your body, his eyes drinking in every inch of you as it fell to the floor.

"So beautiful," he whispered, his fingers tracing patterns across your bare skin. "You have no idea how long I've wanted to see you like this." Wonwoo tossed his t-shirt aside, revealing his toned chest and muscular arms. He looked down at you with a hungry expression, his eyes roaming over your body.

"You're perfect," he said, his voice rough with desire. "I can't believe I almost let you slip away from me." He leaned down, his body pressing against yours, his skin hot against yours. You could feel his hardness pressing against you through his jeans, and he let out a low growl of frustration.

"I need you," he said, his lips finding your ear. "Now."

Wonwoo's hands moved to the waistband of your panties, his fingers tracing the edge teasingly. "Lift your hips for me," he commanded, his voice firm and commanding. You obeyed his command, lifting your hips off the bed. Wonwoo slowly pulled your panties down your legs, his eyes fixed on the sight of your exposed body.

"You're even more beautiful than I imagined," he said, his voice low and husky. "And all mine."

"Get on your hands and knees," Wonwoo commanded, his eyes dark with desire. "I want to take you from behind."

"I'm sorry, but I need to show you what you've been missing," Wonwoo repeated, his voice filled with a mix of apology and determination. "You deserve to feel pleasure like you've never felt before." You slowly got onto your hands and knees, your body trembling with anticipation. As you presented yourself to Wonwoo, you felt a mix of vulnerability and excitement coursing through your veins. You could feel the heat of his gaze on your body, his eyes roaming over every curve and contour. You could sense the tension in the air, the unspoken promise of pleasure that was about to be fulfilled. Wonwoo positioned himself behind you, his hands running over your back and down to your hips. He leaned forward, his chest pressing against your back as he whispered in your ear.

"You have no idea how beautiful you look like this," he said, his breath hot against your skin. "All mine, ready and waiting for me." He trailed his lips down your spine, leaving a trail of kisses in his wake. His hands continued to explore your body, his touch growing more confident and possessive. "I'm going to make you feel so good," he promised, his voice low and seductive. "I'm going to make you forget everything but my name." Wonwoo slowly pushed himself inside you, filling you up inch by inch. He let out a low groan of pleasure as he bottomed out, his hands gripping your hips tightly.

"Fuck," he breathed, his voice strained. "You feel so good. So tight and perfect." Wonwoo set a punishing pace, his thrusts hard and rough as he pounded into you from behind. Each movement was filled with purpose, as if he was determined to erase any memory of Mingyu from your mind. He leaned forward, his chest pressed against your back, his lips finding the nape of your neck. He bit down gently, marking you as his own. As you arched your back, pushing your body against him, Wonwoo's grip on your hips tightened. He adjusted his angle, hitting that sweet spot deep inside you with every thrust.

"You're so good for me," he panted, his voice thick with pleasure. "Taking me so well, just like you were made for me." Wonwoo tangled his fingers in your hair, pulling your head back slightly. The sudden sensation sent a shiver down your spine, and you moaned loudly in response. "That's it," he growled, his grip on your hair tightening. "I want to hear you moan for me. I want everyone to know who you belong to."

"Scream my name," Wonwoo commanded, his voice rough and dominant. "Let everyone know who's making you feel this way." As he continued to pound into you, his thrusts growing faster and harder, you couldn't hold back any longer. The pleasure was too much, and you screamed his name. "Wonwoo!" you cried out, your voice echoing through the room. Wonwoo's grip on your hair loosened as he heard you scream his name, and he leaned down to whisper in your ear. "That's it, baby," he said, his voice filled with satisfaction. "You're mine. Say it again."

"I'm yours, Wonwoo," you panted, your voice ragged with pleasure. "I'm all yours." He growled in response, his thrusts becoming more urgent and desperate. He was close, and he wanted you to come undone for him. "Say it again," he demanded, his fingers digging into your hips. "I need to hear you say it one more time."

"I'm yours, I'm yours, I'm yours," you chanted, the words spilling from your lips like a mantra. You could feel your orgasm building, the pleasure coiling tight in your core.

"That's it," Wonwoo groaned, his voice strained. "Come for me, baby. Come for me and I'll give you everything." You felt your body tense, your muscles coiling tightly as your orgasm washed over you. You cried out Wonwoo's name, your body shaking with the force of your release. Wonwoo followed soon after, his own climax crashing over him as he thrust into you one final time. He buried his face in your neck, his body shuddering against yours as he came deep inside you. Wonwoo's thrusts slowed as he rode out his orgasm, his body trembling against yours. He held you close, his arms wrapping around you as he caught his breath.

"Fuck," he muttered, his voice hoarse. "You're amazing. I don't think I've ever felt that good before."

Wonwoo carefully pulled out of you and rolled onto his back, pulling you with him so that you were lying on top of him. He traced lazy patterns on your back, his fingers skimming over your skin. “I'm never letting you go," he murmured, his voice filled with possessiveness. "You're mine, forever." Wonwoo reached over and grabbed a blanket, pulling it over the two of you. He wrapped his arms around you, holding you close as you snuggled into his chest.

"We should stay like this for a while," he said, his voice sleepy. "Just us, no one else."

"That was...incredible," you murmured, your voice soft and dreamy. "You were incredible."

All of a sudden the door swung open and Mingyu walked in, stopping in his tracks as he took in the sight of you and Wonwoo lying together on his bed, wrapped up in each other. His eyes widened in surprise, and for a moment he just stood there, speechless. Mingyu's eyes darted around the room, taking in the scattered clothes and the obvious signs of what had just happened. He looked back at you and Wonwoo, his expression a mix of shock and anger.

"What the hell is going on here?" he demanded, his voice sharp. Wonwoo smirked, his arms tightening around you as he spoke.

"Just showing her what she's been missing, that's all," he said casually, as if it was the most normal thing in the world. "And I must say, she's been enjoying herself quite a bit."

[riversenchanted]

My advice for your Chiron placement:

- find your house placement and the sign it’s in for most accurate message (example: Chiron in the 1st house in sign of Scorpio)

Chiron 1st house/ Aries: Your wound is connected to your personal expression and authenticity. Leading to insecurity, physical ailments, suppressed anger,and shame. This can create a disconnect between how you present yourself and how you truly feel.

To heal this wound, embrace radical self-acceptance and trust your instincts. Take a leap of faith by setting boundaries, both with others and yourself. Hold yourself accountable for your desires and advocate for your needs. Challenge negative self-talk and self-doubt by asking, “What would my life look like if I let go of others expectations and pursued what I truly want?” With Chiron in the 1st house, it's essential to prioritize your own needs. Regularly check in with yourself to ensure your actions align with your true desires rather than people-pleasing. Remember to show yourself compassion and love, by doing so you encourage others around you to do the same and can help heal those who may struggle in the same ways you do!

Chiron 2nd house/ Taurus:

Your deepest wound relates to material security, self-worth, and stability. You may have felt unsupported at times, leading to a sense of constant lack and difficulty relaxing in the present moment.

To heal, recognize that your worth is not tied to money or possessions. Address feelings of unworthiness stemming from past trauma and explore areas where you may be settling for less due to fear of scarcity. Open yourself to new opportunities for abundance and let go of unnecessary attachments driven by the fear of loss or loneliness.

Address challenges with balancing spending and saving or even hoarding. By confronting these fears, you can begin to heal and find balance in your life. By healing these areas of life you can help others that struggle in these areas as well!

Chiron 3rd house/ Gemini:

Your wound lies in communication, social interactions, and understanding. You may struggle with learning disabilities or speech issues, or just feeling unheard or misunderstood. This can lead to social anxiety and difficulty connecting with others, especially in your early years.

To heal, focus on detaching from others opinions of you. Journaling, writing, and public speaking can help you find your voice. Surround yourself with accepting people and practice mindful communication and active listening. By nurturing this pain, you can transform it into a strength, becoming an effective communicator and even helping others who face similar challenges!

Chiron in 4th House/Cancer:

Your deepest wound relates to family, home life, and emotional stability. Growing up, you may have faced significant hardships that impacted your sense of safety. Healing can be challenging since family is central to your identity. Create a sanctuary at home and build a chosen family to foster support. If safe, work on healing toxic family dynamics. As a generational curse breaker, you may feel alienated, but nurturing yourself will help you appreciate your connections and establish a safe, loving home environment. By creating a safe stable home life you end generational issues and can help heal others who struggle with the same issues.

Chiron in 5th House/Leo:

Your wound lies in creativity, self-expression, and joy. You might struggle with taking up space, feeling unworthy or annoying, even when well-received. Early experiences of bullying or rejection may contribute to these feelings. To heal, identify the root of your insecurities and explore creative outlets to express yourself positively. Cultivate self-trust and avoid second-guessing. Affirmations of self-love and acceptance are essential for building confidence and embracing your true self. By being your most authentic self you encourage others around you to do the same.

Chiron in 6th House/Virgo:

Your wound revolves around health, wellness, and routine. You may overextend yourself, prioritizing others needs at the expense of your own, which can lead to physical or mental health struggles. You may have grown up caring for a loved one in some way or were placed in a situation where your needs often came second, so you might lack boundaries in balancing self-care vs caregiving. To heal, simplify your daily life and establish a structured routine that prioritizes your health. By focusing on self-care and setting practical boundaries for yourself you can also become a healer for others facing similar challenges.

Chiron in 7th House/Libra:

Your wound is centered on personal relationships, partnerships, and justice. You may struggle with trauma in relationships or find it difficult to connect deeply with others, leading to feelings of confusion and isolation. Healing comes from focusing on your individual goals and cultivating independence. It’s essential to balance your needs with those of others, avoid settling for attention, and take the time to truly know people before committing. Additionally, work on opening your heart and learning to trust again after past traumas.

Chiron in 8th House/Scorpio:

Your deepest wound involves intimacy, trust, and shared resources. Past trauma may create fears around vulnerability, making emotional connections difficult. This placement indicates a profound healing journey that requires deep emotional transformation. You will face challenges that confront your fears, often leaving you feeling powerless. However, like a phoenix, you can rise stronger. To heal, explore your innermost self, allow yourself to feel your emotions, and confront your traumas. Embrace surrender and discover your personal strength amidst the darkness. This placement is an indication of being a powerful healer, as you learn to alchemize your pain you increase your personal power and help empower others by doing so.

Chiron in 9th House/Sagittarius:

Your wound centers on spirituality, religion, and faith. Past experiences may have led you to question your beliefs, creating a rift in your spiritual understanding. You might feel betrayed by life and struggle to see the bigger picture, often facing religious trauma or issues with higher education. To heal, engage with topics like psychology, culture, spirituality, and religion. Open yourself to diverse belief systems and experiences. Finding purpose is key to your healing, and accepting your past as part of your journey will help you on your path of soul-searching. By healing these areas of your life you may also help others who feel lost in life as well!

Chiron 10th house/ Capricorn:

Your wounds are around career, public image, father/fatherhood, and authority. Individuals with this placement may struggle with feelings of inadequacy or unworthiness in the professional realm, often facing challenges with authority figures or societal expectations. You may have issues stepping into a leadership role or question your ability to lead confidently. Healing comes through redefining success on one's own terms, embracing leadership roles that feel authentic, and working to build self-worth independent of external validation. By helping others through mentorship or guidance, particularly in career-related matters, Chiron in the 10th house can find a sense of purpose and healing, turning past wounds into a source of wisdom and empowerment.

Chiron 11th house/ Aquarius: Your wounds are related to social groups, friendships, and one’s sense of belonging within a larger community or collective. Individuals with this placement may feel like outsiders or struggle with feeling accepted by their peers, leading to a deep sense of alienation or unworthiness in social circles. Healing occurs through embracing one's uniqueness and finding communities that truly resonate with their authentic self. By fostering deep, meaningful connections and learning to contribute to groups in a way that honors personal values. You can heal your sense of isolation, transforming past wounds into a source of strength and empathy for others.

Chiron 12th house/ Pisces:

Your wound is related to spirituality, empathy, and the sense of oneness with the universe. Individuals with this placement may struggle with feelings of confusion, disillusionment, or a lack of boundaries, often feeling overwhelmed by the suffering of others or disconnected from their own sense of purpose. Healing comes through developing a strong spiritual practice that helps them reconnect with their inner self and a sense of divine support. Embracing their intuitive gifts and learning to establish healthy emotional boundaries are key to healing, allowing them to offer compassion without losing themselves in the process. By transforming past wounds into a deep well of empathy and creativity, Chiron in Pisces can find healing through self-acceptance and a renewed connection to the spiritual or collective whole.

[prettygirl-gabi]

Title: "Three's a Party"

Rating: General Audiences

Warning: none

Paring: Paige Bueckers x Aubrey Griffin x fem reader

Fandom: Women's basketball

Summary: three's not a croud if you're with the right people...

Taglist: @elalfywhore @paxaz535

The roar of the crowd still echoed in my ears as I leaned against the lockers in the women’s basketball locker room, waiting for KK. The team had just obliterated Seton Hall, 96-36, and the energy in the building was electric. I’d come to every home game this season, partly to support KK and partly because… well, I might’ve developed not one but two massive crushes on two of her teammates: Paige Bueckers and Aubrey Griffin.

They were both captivating in their own way. Paige was smooth-talking and confident, with a sly grin that could make anyone’s knees weak. Aubrey was quieter but no less magnetic, her quiet strength and warmth pulling me in. And as much as I tried to play it cool, KK had caught on to my predicament weeks ago.

“You good, Y/N?” KK’s voice snapped me out of my thoughts as she appeared beside me, still in her jersey and with her duffel bag slung over her shoulder.

“Huh? Yeah, totally,” I lied, standing up straighter.

“You’re lying,” she said, giving me a knowing look. “Is this about the dynamic duo?”

“What? No!” I squeaked, but KK just raised an eyebrow.

“Uh-huh. Sure.” She shook her head, clearly unimpressed. “You better figure it out before they drive me insane trying to one-up each other.”

“Wait, what are you talking about?” I asked, narrowing my eyes at her.

KK smirked. “Oh, nothing. You’ll see.”

It didn’t take long to understand what she meant. Paige caught up with me in the hallway as I waited for KK to finish changing. She leaned casually against the wall beside me, her smile disarming.

“Hey, Y/N,” she said, her voice smooth. “You coming out to celebrate tonight?”

“I was thinking about it,” I replied, trying not to get lost in those piercing blue eyes.

“Well,” she said, leaning in slightly, “if you want something more low-key, I was thinking we could hang out. Just the two of us. You know, celebrate properly.”

My cheeks heated. “Oh, um… I’ll think about it.”

“Cool,” she said, her grin widening. “Let me know.” With a wink, she sauntered off down the hallway, leaving me flustered.

Before I could fully recover, Aubrey appeared. Her approach was quieter, but the intensity in her gaze made my heart race.

“Hey,” she said, her voice soft but firm. “You were great cheering tonight. We could hear you.”

I laughed nervously. “Thanks. You all didn’t really need it, though. That was a blowout.”

“Still,” she said, her lips twitching into a small smile. “You always show up for us.”

I shrugged, feeling self-conscious. “Of course. KK’s my cousin.”

“Not just for KK,” Aubrey said, her eyes holding mine for a moment too long. “Anyway, I was thinking… if you’re not doing anything later, maybe we could grab a bite. Just us.”

My heart did a flip. “Oh, uh… maybe. I’ll let you know.”

She nodded, her expression unreadable, before heading back toward the locker room. I watched her go, my stomach twisting into knots.

Later, as KK and I walked back to my dorm, I groaned. “What am I supposed to do? Paige wants to hang out. Aubrey wants to hang out. I can’t choose, KK. They’re both… perfect.”

KK snorted. “Perfect? Please. Paige talks too much, and Aubrey broods too much.”

“KK,” I whined, smacking her arm lightly.

She rolled her eyes. “Look, Y/N, you don’t have to pick. You could just… I don’t know… make it a group thing.”

I shot her a look. “Yeah, because that wouldn’t be awkward.”

KK shrugged. “Whatever. I’m just saying, you don’t have to stress about it. Besides, it’s obvious they both like you.”

“Thanks, that helps so much,” I said sarcastically.

She laughed. “Okay, okay. I’ll stop meddling. But seriously, they need to chill before I have to beat them up.”

I couldn’t help but laugh at that. “I’d pay to see that.”

What I didn’t know was that KK wasn’t done meddling. When we got back to my dorm, she excused herself with a suspiciously vague excuse and disappeared. Thirty minutes later, there was a knock at my door. I opened it to find both Paige and Aubrey standing there, looking equally confused.

“What…?” I began, but KK appeared behind them, grinning.

“Three’s a party, right?” she said, winking at me before walking off. “Y’all figure it out.”

Paige and Aubrey exchanged glances before looking at me. “So… this is awkward,” Paige said, scratching the back of her neck.

“No kidding,” Aubrey muttered.

I sighed, stepping aside to let them in. “Come in. I guess we’re celebrating together.”

They both hesitated before stepping inside, and I couldn’t help but laugh at how awkward they looked. For two people who were usually so confident on the court, they seemed completely out of their depth.

It didn’t take long for the tension to ease, though. We ordered pizza, turned on some music, and started talking about everything from basketball to embarrassing childhood stories. By the time the food arrived, we were all laughing like old friends.

“So, Y/N,” Paige said, leaning back against the couch. “Be honest. Who were you gonna pick?”

Aubrey shot her a look. “Smooth, Paige. Real smooth.”

I groaned, hiding my face in my hands. “Why would you ask that?”

“Because I’m curious!” Paige said, grinning. “Come on, just tell us.”

“No way,” I said, shaking my head.

“Fine,” Aubrey said, smirking. “We’ll just have to guess.”

Paige raised an eyebrow. “Game on.”

The two of them spent the rest of the night playfully competing for my attention, from seeing who could make me laugh the hardest to who could stack the most pizza slices on one plate without it toppling over. By the end of it, my cheeks hurt from smiling.

As the night wound down, I found myself sitting between them on the couch, my head resting on Aubrey’s shoulder while Paige played with the hem of my sweatshirt.

“Okay,” Paige said suddenly, breaking the comfortable silence. “I have an idea.”

“Oh no,” Aubrey said, though she was smiling.

“Why don’t we just… share?” Paige suggested, looking between the two of us.

I sat up, my heart skipping a beat. “What do you mean?”

“I mean,” Paige said, her grin mischievous, “why does it have to be one or the other? We could all hang out. Together. No pressure.”

Aubrey considered this, then shrugged. “I’m not opposed.”

I blinked at them, my mind racing. “You’re serious?”

“Dead serious,” Paige said. “Besides, three’s a party, not a crowd, right?”

I laughed, shaking my head. “You’re both ridiculous.”

“Maybe,” Aubrey said, smiling softly. “But we mean it. No matter what you decide, we’re here for you.”

In that moment, I realized that maybe I didn’t have to choose. And with Paige and Aubrey by my side, I knew one thing for sure: this was going to be one hell of a ride.

---

■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■

       -Thank You For Reading!🩵🩶

                             -prettygirl-gabi🎀✨️

[sinstear]

first of all, the fact you wrote me a 14k fic for my birthday is insane?????? and this is genuinely the best gift ever, im being so serious. i can’t even pick parts because everything about this is so beautiful. so poetic, even with the heart shattering angst. im literally still at a loss for words because it’s so fucking beautiful that i can’t even comprehend you wrote this for me, my own little fic????

the angst and comfort that tie in together is so heavenly and deadass so special to me, then there’s the self doubt, the words of other people, trying to warp your mind and hoping it changes their opinion of the one they love, but beneath and in between is the comfort, ugh my heart right now. hope you don’t mind me just yapping about how perfect this is <3

hazel when i see you .... girl it will be over for you. stand down dog, get away from my girl excuse you???? how dare you speak to reader like that?? TO ME LIKE THAT??? GIRL DIE.

there’s something so comforting about the way you write angst, and i know angst is sad and heartbreaking, but you write it in a way that also comforts me? i hope that makes sense, because it makes sense to me <3 you’re literally my own shakespeare, my vifilmsspeare if you will :tehe: write me in my next life, deal?

as i said, i love everything about this fic, and i mean everything but the fact abby pushes herself closer to reader even though she knows reader has so much self doubt, especially with the way they left things, or how things ended between them, she still wants them, that she’s willing to push everything aside to save the person she loves, to save them from making the same decision that destroyed them both before, hurts yet fucking heals the shit outta me.

can we also talk about ellie and her supporting abby through anything, including her want and need to be with reader again? because as much as they hurt, they’ve hurt each other, they still need each other, like a life line and im just sobbing into my keyboard, chat. none of you understand, none of you understand just how much i adore rays work, her fics, her little worlds she creates for all of you and i genuinely could sit here for hours to tell you just how amazing and perfect this is, all her work is.

and i can’t even begin to express how much i love this. i don’t think there will ever be enough words in the english language to describe how much this fic means to me, it means more to me than i think i could ever express. i hope you know how much i love and treasure you. not just for your work but you as a person too. you’re amazing, and i truly wish you would see that. you are the best thing and i want you yo know how much i love you.

this fic is a beautiful and special gift, but having you in my life is an even greater gift, and i thank you. i thank you for a lot of things, and im sure you know most of them already without me having to explain them. thank you for this, thank you for writing an entire fic for me, with so much meaning and not even knowing how special it is to me. thank you for everything you’ve done to help me, thank you for being there for me, thank you for everything and i mean that. from the bottom of my heart, thank you and i love you so much. 🩷🤍

THE SUNSHINE ON MY SHOULDERS STICKING LIKE HONEY

feat. contractor!abby x exgf!reader

content warning. eighteen+, smut, angst, some fluff sprinkled in, devastating dykes, nickname for reader (cherry), jealousy, long lost love trope, hazel (spoiler alert, she’s a cunt), just an emotional ass fic.

THE SUNSHINE ON MY SHOULDERS STICKING LIKE HONEY, she was the healing in a world that struck so much pain, a life you would like to forget, but can you truly forget just how much you loved her?

rayray sesh. been working on this baby for over a month and i’m very happy to post it on time! happy birthday, pookie — @sinstear ♡ this is my special crafted gift i wrote just for you on a day to celebrate just how amazing you are. erenboo, you deserve all the love in the world. i hope you enjoy this as much as i took joy in writing it for you. my love, sweat, tears, and cum are laced in it. special delivery. i love you so much, bub. always and forever.

✶ special shoutout to @hypnagogics aka my co-yap captain. thank you for proofreading my bigger projects. you are a godsend. my nonsensical typos would surely make it if it wasn’t for you. mwahmwah! you’re the sweetest, ily ♡

✶ header heavily inspired by the lovely @hcneymooners

word count, 14k.

❝ ⋮ ⌗ ┆𝐚𝐜𝐭 𝐨𝐧𝐞: 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐝𝐨 𝐬𝐚𝐲 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐢𝐬 𝐛𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐝 ❞

The more you try to hide from it, the harder it’ll be when you face it — at least those are the words Abby had heard from her old man for as long as she could remember. Suddenly, nearly thirty-years later, they reverberated in her mind like a ring of a bell. A vibrating reminder of how her life remained the same, your love having limitations, requirements she never could have been aware of at the ripe age of eighteen. 

All she needed was more time, more understanding, and a patient heart that was never reciprocated. On a day like today, she’s reminded of 

In Jacksonville, there wasn’t much going on, and talk travels faster than the speed of lightning. Murmurs of your return started the moment Dina found out, then it spread like wildfire. All of it feels just like yesterday but the spring of her youth is a far cry away, just dust and bones to be found on the ashes of adolescence.  

If the world was perfect, Abby could avoid all of this. 

Maybe if her life had turned out the way she envisioned. 

But it didn’t and neither did yours. Not as of late. Although Abby had to be tightlipped about it, business and pleasure entangled, all of that nonsense floating around her pretty head. A voice she once thought she had forgotten comes back with a violent need to be recognized, a calming notion before it punches her in the gut. 

Not to mention, she just had to be on your father’s payroll, had to face the person she was never good enough for. All of it feels nauseating. Excruciating. 

Reminder of a wound she’s never recovered from. Memories high and low come flooding, and with you in her line of vision, it only gets worse. 

Way fucking worse. 

“What is she doing back?” 

“As if anyone would want her here.” 

“Abby, was she even supposed to be here?” 

The questions pile along with the bile collecting in the back of Abby’s throat. The pit in her stomach manifests a black hole, feeling herself succumb to the spin of everyone’s empty threats spilling from her friends to you. Abby can tell just by the way you’re downing the glass of champagne and picking up the next, coming here wasn’t your choice.

If you could have helped it, you would have never come back in such a public setting.  

“Abby, are you listening?” She sighs, but still unable to take her eyes off you. 

“Do I need to rea—” 

“Yeah yeah, all of you hate them. I get it.” 

“It’s not that simple. They aren’t good for you.”

There’d been murmurs through the small town of your return. That’s what happens when your mom gets sick, you come home and that you did. The anniversary of your parents, forty years strong, is the first public appearance. The absence of your brother’s appearance isn’t talked about, it’s brushed over, just like everything else, just like you. 

“Yep, I got it.” 

“I’m just looking out for you. They don’t appreciate you and—” Abby shoots her a knowing glare, annoyed with the intrusion of everyone thinking they knew best instead of herself. 

“Yeah, like I said, I hear you, but you don’t fucking know her. Neither do I, certainly not anymore.” 

Running a hand through her blonde-glistening locks, the sunset saturates her golden as she ignores Hazel, taking a sip of her beer as she takes you in. Everyone always has shit to say about you. Your parents, her friends, Abby’s parents, but no one really knows you. 

It’s not easy for you to let people in, you seem as harsh as can be to others, but Abby knows you’re quite the opposite. 

Different from everyone in the room, a polished cream suit and open collared button up shirt with your delectable collarbones exposed, your rings twinkle as you pet the husky, one you don't know belongs to Abby. If you did, your hand might feel repelled. 

It’s what you always wanted. A life out of here, out of the small town where you’ve always felt judged, persecuted, even ostracized when you came out — and you succeeded — leaving Abby behind in the process. Even if you didn’t intend to, it sort of just…happens. We leave the ones we love behind, even if it’s our last possible intention. 

Goodbye notions simmer and we forget about the love we once had. 

“Hazel, Dina was asking for you, she mentioned needing some help finding JJ’s pacifier?” 

“On it!” Abby chuckles as the cherry-haired girl flees into the other direction as Ellie laughs harder when she’s gone. 

“You’re welcome. She's like a dog with a bone when it comes to your beautiful ex-girlfriend.” 

“Watch it. Calling another woman beautiful, Dina might just skin you alive.” 

“Nope. She loves me too much.” 

Ellie chuckles as they watch you down another glass of champagne. Freeing your hair from the tight bun, your hair springs to life as it falls around your shoulders, framing your jawline as piercing eyes find the weeds poking through the freshly cut grass. 

A few people had offered up a sloppy introduction, a grievance of pity, before returning to their groups. Anxiously, you tear at the loose thread on the cuff of your sleeve. It gets longer and longer, avoiding everyone watching you. 

Pretending you don’t exist. You never do. Not in this wretched town where all dreams get sucked into a bottomless pit, where believers go to die. 

Abby nods, the feeling builds in the pit of her stomach as she yearns to get closer to you. Even after all the hurtful insults thrown her way years back, she’s conflicted. A missile is thrown into her life with your arrival and all of her friends, besides Ellie, tell her not to fall back into old patterns. Not to fall for your charm, not to be a victim to reckless love. 

The kind that left her empty for years. Abby knew the moment she fell, from the very first time they met, if you ever left her she’d never be the same again. You don't forget a love like this. It tears a hole within you before you even get a chance to think about it, their presence consuming your entirety, an empty promise of endless salvation dies on the tip of your tongue. 

Impossible shoes to ever be filled. 

Truly, Abby thought she had been in love before you, but she wasn’t. The feeling she’s been chasing for the rest of her life returns when she looks at you. Those bright eyes when you play with the pup, the gentle hand as your scrap his chin with the crescent of your blunt nails. 

She feels more looking at you for one moment than anyone she’s dated after you. 

It’s sickening. 

Still, her friends ridicule her any chance they get. Telling her of what you’re like, how you hurt her, what you’ll do when your claws sink into Abby. It falls on a hyper fixated heart. She can’t think of anything when all the blood comes rushing to her head, how beautiful you look when she sees you anxiously biting your bottom lip, something you do when you’re attempting to stop the tears from spilling. 

None of them knew what it meant to look in your eyes and wonder how someone so good couldn’t recognize the purity in your eyes, the love you give out when the world feels like it’s crumbling around you. They didn’t see the years of torture, the family that wasn’t so perfect, the anger you held wound so tight. You didn’t have anywhere to put it. Never could. Not when the image of the perfect daughter is meant to be upheld. 

Not a soul knows the information Abby does. There’s nothing more you love than to hide in the shadows, hoping to be forgotten, how you nearly crave to be eaten alive if it means an end to your misery. It isn’t lost on her how much she wants to shield you from it all. 

“Why don’t you go and talk to her?” 

Ellie points the glass of wine she’s been nursing to you, watching as you excuse yourself into the empty guest house. Your body is still viewable through the tall glass windows, your body disappearing from the common area of the small home. The exact one she’s been renovating per your mother’s request. 

“She’ll just—” Absentmindedly, Abby kicks the dirt with the toe of her boot, rooting her heel in the ground as she bites the wall of her gums, trying to center herself. Attempting to not let her mind wander into what if’s, what could have been. 

“What? Figure out you’re scared?” 

“I’m not scared.” Sighing into the palm of her hands as she can’t help but bite into Ellie’s comment, “It’s been years. For all I know, Cherry hates my guts. Not that it fucking matters, but I’m the last person they want to talk to. Plus, when she’s upset the last thing they want is to talk.”  

“You’ll do just fine, can’t be too bad. They were always sweet on you.” 

“It’s been years, Hazel’s right, in some sense I—” 

“Please, even you know the only thing she wants is to get in your pants. That part is lost on me, you’re too beefy for my taste.”

“Some people like that, dick.” 

“Your girlfriend sure did.” 

“Ex-girlfriend.” 

The rest of the night Abby avoids all of her friends, especially the meddling junkie, Hazel; fucking hazel. She wouldn’t let her rest. They never had done more than share a friendly hug and for some reason she always looked at Abby like she hung all the stars spreading across the galaxy. 

“Are you going to let Hazel think she has a chance forever?” 

Abby just shakes her head in omission. 

“There’s no chance, I’m not—” 

“Abby! I got you a glass of lemonade. Sweet with just a few cubes of ice, just the way you like it!” Ellie wiggles her eyebrows at Abby as if she has proved her point. 

As soon as Hazel turns around, Ellie goes right back to the pitch of her ex-girlfriend, trying to sell Abby on the past. The only woman Dina and her had liked in her mess of a dating scene. A long line of hookups, one serious relationship that ended so horrifically the cops had to be called, and then there was Hazel. A naive girl who had been harboring a crush for nearly a year, the time Dina had adopted her into their little makeshift family. 

You walk out of the guest house more comfortably. A pair of dark denim and a black graphic tee with the sleeves cut off. Abby smiles at how much you look like the woman she fell in love with, the youthful ache she still feels with every beat of her heart. The one you crushed in the palm of her hands without thinking twice. 

Abby’s throat constricts when you catch her staring, quickly looking away, biting at your fingernails before your father introduces you to the new neighbors. 

“What’s so important, Hazel?” Ellie bites. 

Hazel ignores her. All she can see is Abby looking right at you. 

Abby had realized she completely zoned out, her energy and focus harbored on you. Five minutes within your arrival and her head was already feeling the rapid hum of her heartbeat caught in the bottom of her throat as you looked at her again, just for a second longer before you turned the other direction, away from her gaze. 

“Abby—” 

Abby hums absentmindedly with you on her mind, infecting her thoughts like a former addict getting their first fix for years. The high. It feels even better than her mind could remember. The curious gaze in bright eyes feels intoxicating, too good to be true, and the fall feels higher than it ever was to begin with. 

“Yeah?” 

“She’s coming over here.” 

It only takes a few minutes before Abby takes a swig at her beer, wipes the sweat collecting on the palm of her hands. When you get closer, she notices the engraving of A.A. engraved on a glimmering silver ring. 

Did you keep it after all this time? 

“Tell her to leave—” 

“Hazel, for the love of god, would you shut your mouth?” Ellie barks as you make your way over to Abby. 

Abby tries to make her resolve hard, icy even, but it’s not. Her electrified blue eyes are warm, full of curiosity and wonder, her freckled cheeks are flushed from the heat of the sun and her barely there grin has you offering one of your own. 

“Abigail, hey.” 

Abby is surprised you hug her and she doesn't want to accept but it feels too rude not to. But the second her arms envelop around your body you fit perfectly into her. Just like all those years ago, you’re everything she loves. Like no time has passed, as if you didn’t rip her heart and stump out the love it once held. 

“It’s just Abby now.” Hazel interjects. 

“Sorry, I didn’t know, Abby, right.” 

“How could you? You’d have to be around—” 

Ellie gently elbows Hazel in the stomach, trying to silence her best efforts to scare you away from the treasury stock of a blonde she believes to be hers. 

“Abby, sorry. I’m just—” 

“You’ve always called me, Abigail. It’s alright. Promise.”

There she is. 

The charm that makes you fall when you don’t need to. It’s laughable that Abigail can make years of therapy, years of dating other people to get over her seem like a dream, as if it’d only just been the two of you all of this time. Like nothing had changed. 

But everything has. 

“Um, do you mind if we talk in private?” 

Abigail follows your lead into the empty house, the party rages outside as the two of you sit in the living room, neither of you knowing what way to take your best foot forward. 

“Sorry if I made things awkward with you and your girlfriend—” 

“Oh, uh, she’s not….we’re not dating or anything.” 

Shit. 

You wish she was. 

Abby doesn’t know what to think when the expression on your face wasn’t instant relief but instead turmoil within yourself. Your eyebrows furrowed as if you expected her to be in a relationship. It would leave you to escape from the overflow of feelings you had rushing through your core. 

“You look shocked.” 

“I just—” You bite your lip, looking anywhere but her, trying to put your best foot forward, like your father says, he’s the whole reason this conversation is even happening. “I can’t lie, it would have made this…easier? I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing.” 

“What are you trying to do?” Abby has a bubbly laugh threatening to burst but she swallows it for the sake of your dignity. 

“Okay, well that’s not nice.” 

“Do you want me to be?” 

“Well, my dad he just thought that—” 

“Wait, you’re talking to me because of your dad?” Abby stands up from the couch, rubbing her hands over her flushed face. “Not even because it’s been years, but because — well, why?” 

“He was just encouraging me. I’m nervous, isn’t that fucking obvious? I can’t even look at you without feeling like I’m eighteen again.” 

She’s standing at her tall height, looking down at you as you begin to cry. 

Well shit. 

“Hey, hey—” Abby sinks to the floor on her knees, her body between your legs. “C’mon, there’s no need for all of that.” 

“I hate that you haven’t changed.” 

“Did you want me to?” 

No, you say just to yourself. Not trusting the waver of your voice to give her the truth. There’s always so much on the line with her. Everything feels heavy, final, an anchor to hold you down but also drag everything you are, tangled with her sweet, honey-filled baby blues. 

“Can’t you be mean to me or something? Even the playing field a little bit.” 

“Not even a little, sweetheart. We both know I never could.” Her fingertips trace your forearm, a shiver courses throughout your body, “I will admit, everyone says I should.” 

“They’re right. I deserve it.” 

“If we all got what we deserved, well, that would be such an ugly world, wouldn’t it? Just because you did something hurtful doesn’t make you cruel. It makes you human.” 

“But I do deserve the cruelty.” 

“Fine, I hate you.” Abby says with a smirk on her face, wiping away a stray tear, looking too fondly on the woman who broke her heart. She’s too kind for her own good. 

The giggle Abby omits rivals sunshine. 

“I just didn’t want it to affect the work on the house, everything between us, it’s complicated and I’ll be in the guest house while my mom’s—” 

“I know, you don’t have to say it. Your dad may have mentioned it to me. I’m sorry, I truly am.” 

“I am too. For everything. I shouldn’t have left the way I did. I was so young, scared, and I wanted you to hate me. It just seemed easier than having you actually miss me.” 

“I did miss you.” Abby's warm palm might as well be burning your denim jeans through as she touches your thigh. “You could have done the worst thing imaginable and I still would have. I’ve never had, uh, reason with you I guess. Love doesn’t know scorn, like a child with a knife, even if you can get hurt — sometimes it’s worth it.” 

The stars in her blue eyes hold the same light in them, too full of love, her older and refined spirit lays beneath them and she has become someone you have even more love for. It’s too damning. Abigail Anderson has always been more than you can handle, always outshining everyone in this small town even if she couldn’t see it for herself. 

“I’m surprised you came back for them, you know, after everything.” 

It’s not just them. 

“They say she doesn’t have a lot of time, so—” You sigh heavily into your palms, “And that’s not your problem, but thank you for being so cool about everything. Maybe we can be friends?” 

“Yeah, maybe.” Abby knows neither of you can’t. It’s never worked out that way. It’s all or nothing and she’s always been the all-in type of girl. She loves big, not caring if her own heart gets trampled in the process. 

Her love blinds like the sun, but it settles over your heart like the moonlight kissing the waves — you just hope the tide is strong enough to bring you home.

❝ ⋮ ⌗ ┆𝐚𝐜𝐭 𝐭𝐰𝐨: 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐮𝐧, 𝐲𝐨𝐮’𝐥𝐥 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐚𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 ❞

The first few weeks back at home felt like a breath of fresh air. As much as you disdained being home, the cracks of your family nearly breaking you in the process, you had her. 

Even if you didn’t really have her. 

The definite silence was not so, Abby still soaked in her warm heart, the one you hoped she kept. The best part of her. She’s too kind, even when you don’t deserve it, she still freely gives it. 

It bleeds into her work. 

Clearly, your father was more than fond of her. Several occasions they would be chumming it up, your father even grilling a few patty hamburgers up for them both when the clock struck noon. They always did love her, possibly even more than you, but to say they were devastated about the break would be a tragic understatement. 

Get her back. 

She’s a prize in this town. 

Abigail Anderson is the best you can do, you’re not doing better than Dr. Anderson’s daughter. 

But you never did try. You trusted the universe as a sign given. The people driving you out of this town sided with the woman you had broken up with, so you left and didn’t look back twice. 

Yet, she did, in more ways than you were even aware of. 

Because of her stupidly built physique, you couldn’t stop looking. 

Anchored into the heat, her muscles constrict as she helps the crew demo the tile of the master suite, the last touch of the renovation needs. Besides the final paint job in the guest house, Abby had finished it all. In all honesty, Abby was hoping all of it would be complete by the time you arrived back in town. Being around you on a daily basis, her friends telling her it’s only a matter of time before she’s back in your arms, it feels like a slap in the face. 

As if she has no self restraint. 

To be fair, she doesn’t. 

Abby’s gone to lunch with you three times, had coffee with you once, and she exhibits her obsessive memory — still having your order memorized — even if it's the most pathetic thing you’ve ever heard of. She still finds herself stuck between your teeth like cotton candy. 

It’s all friendly, supposedly, but it’s the easiest thing to slip back. 

Old habits do die hard. 

Right now, you’re just watching her work. 

You’ve been doing it a lot lately. 

Out of habit, nervousness, maybe it’s the anxiety flooding through your bloodstream. All of this feels erasable. Too much thrown at you, with her, it always happens to be too irreplaceable. 

The ghost you’ve been running from, the one that hides in the shadow, even if you’ve tried to stay on the path you’ve created. Dug from the ashes of all your failures, she’s the one thing you haven’t made right. The nights where you got too drunk, nearly texting her or calling her, the picture you still curated in a specific folder, the one you would look for when you’re the weakest. 

Being back in your hometown, the first person who ever truly loved you, it feels suffocating. 

It doesn’t help that she looks so good. Or that she’s even kinder. The love in her eyes is even more whole-hearted than they were ten years ago. Part of you tells yourself you couldn’t even help yourself if you tried. This is just how it’s supposed to be. The heartbreaker pining for the woman’s heart you shattered into pieces. 

All it took, a few cups of coffee and Abby taking you to lunch and paying — it feels awfully like a date but you keep your mouth shut. Her being present in your life is already confusing enough; the added weight would just be unbearable. 

But after today, you won’t see her again. Painting the final room in the guest house is the last duty she has to fulfill and the renovation is done on your parent’s property. The ache in the pit of your stomach is unsettling as you attempt to simmer through and wonder why the pain becomes so deep. As if the woman in front of you was scorning you alive. 

“You need something or are you gonna stare at me all day?” 

You watch Abby throw the paint roller back in the tray, running the brush in the sage green, before turning the attention back to the wall, waiting for you to respond. 

“No, I wasn’t staring.” Abby chuckles at that. 

Chuckles. 

“Yeah, sure.” 

If you could see her pouty lips, you’re sure that they’d be pulled into a smirk. Lately, she’s been enjoying this too much. Catching you staring at her for too long, biting the precious bottom lip of yours as she’s putting her muscles to work or when you caught her peeling the sweaty tank of her body for a new one, every inch of her skin glowing in the wake of the blistering sun. 

Her abdomen, toned with a not so subtle four pack, her v-line defined as it disappears into her jeans. It’s sickening. Really. It is. She catches your self control slipping through the cracks, dignity along with it as you give in to her adonis-like physique. 

The shock going through your body, going completely still as Abby just chuckles, winking at you before she goes about her day. Like it was nothing, like this is a normal occurrence for her. You’re not sure what thought made you feel even more sick. 

Women fawning over her or what happened after. 

But you didn’t have a right, you know you didn’t. 

You swallowed the unflattering buzz of sweeping jealousy until you couldn’t feel in anymore. It’s not an emotion you even deserve to feel. While the two of you had been getting closer the longer you spent with each other, you knew your boundaries well enough to know you still weren’t there, you never would be. 

The ghosts from your past made damn sure of it. 

“I can pose for you if you’re going to keep looking.” 

“I wasn’t—” 

Abby wipes the mixture of sweat, oils, and paint on the pair of old blue-denim. She lets her blonde hair out of the bun she wore, despite the icy temperature, her body runs warm. 

“It’s okay to admit it.” 

“Admit what?” Suddenly you become defensive, arms crossing over your chest. 

“That you’re still attracted to me.” Abby takes your curves in and nearly blows a low whistle, “You’re awful at hiding it.” 

“I-I’m not, this isn’t….you’re not, like, easy to look at, you know? Uh, ummm….” 

Standing there like an idiot as you struggle to get the words out, nearly impossible to get them released, your mouth staggering, unable to even keep them shut as Abby stalks you, your body pressed against the kitchen counter, the new one she installed days ago. 

Nothing comes out on the way you intend it to. Fuck. Did you offend her? 

“I’m not?” 

She whispers into your ear, her lips ghosting your skin. A free hand plays with the buckle of your belt before she pulls you closer by the fastened leather. It’s soft to the touch, making her want to sink her teeth into you, until her canines break the surface of your skin, claiming you as hers once again. 

Abby thinks about removing it off you, bending you over the counter and punishing you for it or even fastening the belt around your neck, pulling you along until you’re right where she pleases. The craving in the pit of her belly only stirs into an unmanageable peace the longer you stand there — squirming with satisfaction — waiting to be put out of your misery. 

Golden locks tickle your jaw, the static energy radiating off of her shocks your skin, goosebumps come alive on every inch of you as she makes her presence known. One fact you haven’t been able to shake, Abby Anderson is a force to be reckoned with. Ten years, ten full years, and your life means nothing now that she’s right in front of you. 

“Abigail, I don’t really think this is a good idea.” Abby waits for you to push her away, but instead you place your hands around her forearms but she’s so big, and it’s intoxicating that she stands taller than you. Her biceps the size of your head, veins protruding as she flexes, as if it didn’t make matters worse. 

“Then why don’t you just admit it?” Abby presses her pelvis even closer to yours and you wonder if you’re hallucinating the barely-there kiss to below your ear. “You want me just as much as you did back then. Ten years apart won’t change that. You still care about me, even though you wish you didn’t, you do.” 

“Abigail, we can’t go there, we both are—” 

“What? I’ve always been a patient girl. I can wait.” Loudly, you groan as she peppers kisses down your neck, before scratching at her skin, when she kisses the one spot behind your ear she certainly didn’t forget about. 

Abby digs her teeth in as you hiss, she enjoys the thrill of your soft whimpers, she’s barely started and you’re giving her just what she needs. The two of you know it, there isn’t a fix for this, the thread of a craving pulls until it’s fed. 

“Oh–” 

Rough hands hoist you on the counter top as she slots herself between your thighs, her frame protecting you as if you were a wild animal trying to be saved from extinction. The greed in Abby’s palm finds salvation when she touches exposed skin, silk to the touch — it doesn’t feel quite as sinful as she’s been told. 

She should hate you, right? 

You hurt her, didn’t look back twice, and you’ve never been the same. 

All of this is just a facade. The life you have, the future you always dreamed of building is thousands of miles from here and she just doesn’t fit within it anymore, everyone tells her she never did. A missing puzzle piece with a jagged edge, the more Abby tries to fit with your world, the further she pushes away. 

But she held onto the hope that your world no longer fit you and maybe — like a fool who believes in their first dream — she could be your world again. 

Sparkling, honey-blues dazzle their way into your heart once again, reminding you of everything you love, striking a reminder through your soul of just what you had hurt. The life you stole, the one you wanted to so desperately have but fear still swarms you. The memory doesn’t feel so distant, the past isn’t the past but lies as a reminder of the blood still staining your hands. 

With hesitance, you hold her full-freckled cheeks in your palms with a delicate hand, fearful any touch from you would burn her in the process. 

“Do you think this is a good idea?” You bite into the isolating air, threatening to swarm your soul but she finds you first. Abby’s warm breath feeds into the need blossoming like a seed rooted in soil, solidifying the growth of budding salvation. 

“I don’t know. Do you?” 

She’s so sweet on you, even as the trickle of poison burns her, Abby would gladly let it absorb every inch of her skin if it meant this. The wondrous arrival of a love once lost, her heart torn right down the middle. Unsure if giving into reason or a festered dream. 

It all grabs a hold of her the same, unwillingly to release her from the pure agony she feels when you’re not around. More dramatic than she intended it to be, the dagger once pushed through her heart, exerting every drop of blood until she felt unsatisfied iron saturating her tongue. 

She would even show gratitude if you let her. 

“Everything I think I know changes when you’re involved, so no, I don’t.” 

Leaning into your touch, Abby swears into the palm of your hand, her hands smooth over the fabric of your pants and your entire skin leaves a trail of fire anywhere her large, calloused hand scorns you. The weight of her love feels heavy, as it always has, but the temptation to carry every ounce of it is heavier than it’s been in years. 

With a terror in your chest, you blurt out the first thought entering you mind.  “You’ve aged really well, can barely tell you’re hitting thirty.” 

“Oh yeah? I can think of a few ways to show you.” 

Shit. 

A rapid heartbeat ready to burst, you’re not sure if it’s you or her. She’s inching closer, lips ghosting yours, her minty-ice breath makes home over yours. With a slight graze, you inhale a sharp breath, read for her to lean into you. 

Slam! 

“Am I interrupting something?” Immediately, you push Abby off of you, a judging pair of eyes scanning the two of you. 

The woman from the party looked like she could actually kill you with her bare hands. Then there’s Ellie sitting there grinning like the joker, one giggle away from sounding like the maniac himself. As if she was fully aware this would happen. The two of you are running off of pure animal instinct, unable to keep your hands off one another. 

“Abby? What’s going on?” The snip in the woman’s voice is evident, so is the possession she so clearly feels over your ex-girlfriend. The jealousy you feel over the thought sends an unwanted shiver up your spine. 

Then she’s looking at you, expecting you to disintegrate into nothing right in front of her. Like you had done something terribly wrong. 

Didn’t Abby say she’s single? 

“Chill out, Hazel.” Ellie rolls her eyes, smirking at the steam practically boiling out of Hazel’s ears. “Ready for that drink? Dina and Jesse are already waiting.” 

“Uh—” She looks back at you, avoiding eye contact with everyone. “Yeah, can you just give me a sec?” 

“But I really think we should—” 

“Down Hazel, god, you’re worse than a dog. They clearly were about to suck each other’s faces off. Move it.” 

Hazel clearly looks offended as she desperately looks at Abby, hoping for her to save a little bit of dignity but Abby just punches the bridge of her nose as Ellie escorts out an extremely frigid Hazel. 

Abby doesn’t miss the way the woman who has far too big of a crush on her tries to shoot daggers into you but you’re too busy focused on plucking your overgrown cuticles. 

As soon as the door shuts you bend over the counter, forehead pressed into the white marble of the island, settling for a frustrated groan even when you want to scream. 

“That bad, huh?” Abby stands behind you, watching as you lose it in front of her. 

“Your friends already hate me, was that really fucking needed?” 

There’s an itching, envious need to ask why Hazel seems to be protective over Abby, borderlining on obsession, but you keep your mouth tight lipped. Even if it’s the first thing ready to roll off your tongue. 

“They’re fine, Hazel is just—” 

“Protective.” You avoid her as she smirks, clearly enjoying the clear look of jealousy in your beautifully bright eyes. 

“Oh?” Abby is grinning, pearly whites shining as majestic as the moon. “I didn’t think you’d even feel like that about me.” 

As if it's instinct, she can’t stop how much she’s loving this. One moment of her lips on your skin and suddenly you want her all to yourself. Your head is spinning and her stupid, blue eyes won’t stop looking at you like a divine treasure. 

“I-I don’t know what to say.” 

You never did well with things out of your control, never really could. It’s why all of it ended the way it did. If you couldn’t somehow manipulate into what you wanted, it faded until you couldn’t hear it any longer. Abby faded into the noise, into your past, but maybe she is the noise and for the first time in ten years you can finally hear. 

“You don’t have to say anything but you can come with me.” 

“With your friends?” Abby nods. 

“All of your friends hate me and one looks like she might actually kill me. Why on earth would you think that’s a good idea?” 

“All of them are adults. They’ll handle just fine besides,  I want you there.” As soon as Abby says those words, your harsh seamer softens, rejection melts and dissipates from your vocabulary. She’s always been a difficult person to say no to. “You could use some social interaction, you don’t even leave this guest house.” 

“How did you know that?” 

“I have eyes?” Abby states it as more of a question, a giggle threatening to bubble out. 

“Oh god.” Abby laughs as she takes off her tool belt before finding her jacket and slipping it on her body. Grabbing her keys on the counter, looping the carabiner on the loop of her weathered denim. 

“Ready?”  

There’s a look of uncertainty in your eyes, nearly bleeding into an unwillingness to bend, but her words reassure you before you even get a chance to explain. As if she settled in your heart ten years ago and never left. 

“Don’t worry, okay? If anyone’s mean to you, I’ll set them straight, Cherry.” 

The nickname falls off her tongue, the sentiment hits you like a tsunami of emotion, bringing you back to every loving emotion she exposed to you for the first time. 

It shouldn’t cut you this deep but it will — she always will. 

❝ ⋮ ⌗ ┆𝐚𝐜𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐞: 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐚𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐬 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐞 ❞

March 26th, 2013 

“C’mon dance with me!” Abby screams over the loud music of the party. Fluorescent lights, a disco ball and tequila raged through her body, the alcohol pumping through her veins as she finally mustered the liquid courage to talk with the girl she’s been crushing on all sophomore year. 

Her friends had been teasing her all night about it, but when the girl looked at her in disgust, shoulder checking her into oblivion, she couldn't help but take it to heart. Her blue eyes swell with tears, a waterfall raging within her as she makes her way to the bathroom, puking out her dinner at her father’s house. 

So much for prom night, right? 

Making a beeline for the bathroom, with yet another rejection to check off the list, stupid fucking after party she lied to her dad about going to. It’s all so stupid, of course Lacey wouldn’t be into someone like her. No one likes her, no one ever will, she’s just the lame screw up in this town who can’t like boys, not when the rest of the girls in the wretched town do. 

Even if her dad tells her, it’s what makes her special — it’s a bunch of horse shit. 

So, in the home of the girl she confessed her undying love for, she pukes her guts out in the bathroom until there’s a knock at the door and a soft yet concerned shout that follows. “Hey, are you okay? Sounds a little rough in there!” 

“Shit,  yeah, just one second…” Abby collects herself taking off her jacket as she rolls up the sleeves, residue of what she chucked up on the cuff of her shirt. Quickly, she rinses off and roles the sleeves up. 

Well, it didn’t get any more embarrassing than this. 

“Are you sure you’re alright? I can get someone it’s really not a pro—” 

Without a further beat, the door is swung open. Abby suspects to see someone she knows, but she doesn’t. It’s a fresh face and she’s never been more grateful. The eyeliner she thought Lacey would like was probably smudged all over her face, Abby had no doubt she probably resembled someone operating an oil rig of some kind. 

Just as Abby tries to talk, she feels another round come up and she runs to the toilet, sinking to her knees as more bile comes out. Way to go Anderson, you’ve managed to utterly humiliate yourself in front of two beautiful women tonight. Truly, there should be some type of an award for being the dumbest idiot on the planet. 

Somehow, she knows all of this will come back to bite her in the ass. There’s no way that she isn't the complete laughing stock of the high school until she walks across the stage in two years with a diploma on hand. Whoever you are, you’re sure you’ll tell the entire town. 

A stupid pathetic lesbian who can’t have one good night to save her life. 

One of the most important nights of her life. 

But she doesn’t hear a mockery laugh, a snide comment…she isn't even met with pure disgust. The third and fatal option. There’s a comforting hand on her back, reassuring her everything will be just fine, the other holding her hair into  a makeshift ponytail, ensuring there isn't a single strand getting tied into the mess of her sickness. 

By the time Abby’s done, she feels even more humiliated, her body running hot, cheeks aflame but you’re already running warm water underneath the towel folded on the shelf above the toilet. Kneeling down again, you angle her by the jaw, wiping the residue off her lips and you carefully wash away the black eyeliner smeared all over her freckled-cheeks. 

For a second, Abby notices you staring at her pouty lips but she doesn’t say a word about it. 

Turned out so wonderful the first time…

“Here!” You pull from your pocket, a pack of red labeled gun, cherry flavored, and pull out one piece wrapped in paper-tin foil. “For your, you know, breath.” 

“Is this your nice way of telling me I have bad breath?” Abby teases, one moment with a pretty stranger, and she already felt more like herself. Abby takes a piece of gum, unraveling the piece before shoving the strip into her mouth. 

“Well, you did puke.” 

Regretfully she chews as the taste turns sweet instead of mint, her face contorts in rejection but still she chews. It’s not exactly what she had in mind. 

“You don’t like Cherry flavored? That’s just bad taste!” You grab a piece of gum for yourself, throwing the piece of paper in the trash, consuming it wholeheartedly, almost moaning as you put on a show. 

“Whatever you say, Cherry.” The sun might as well be shining on you from just how warm you feel. Heat rising in your heart, blossoming through your chest, thriving from the attention of the sun, 

“Hey! That’s not fair. I don’t know your name.” 

“Well, I don’t know yours either…” Abby hints, tilting her head to the side with a smirk the size of Texas. For once, she finds this easy, talking to a pretty girl, flirting with a pretty girl — proving it didn’t always have to be so hard to have something this good. 

“Call me Cherry, it’s better than my real one, trust me.” You smile sweetly, fully willing to rot each tooth if it means you could feel like this. “What’s yours?” 

“Abigail.” 

The two of you just stare at each other like idiots, two losers, two outcasts and all of it started to make sense. Every heartache dealt out by careless handlers of the heart, each person who made you feel small, unworthy, who knew all of it could be healed by looking into the brightest pair of blue eyes, the warmest, full of honey and marvelous wonder. 

It feels wonderful, being this close to a feeling, a lover's dream in the sunshine of spring, kissing shoulders never exposed to the brightful joy, freckles sprouting like bees flees to honey. One more kiss of sunshine until the sweetness falls on your tongue, guiding you to the spirit of love and everything you ever lost. 

One person, one perfect person who makes your youth scream of joy again. Jumping off a cliff, plummeting into the cool ocean without second thought, hoping they’ll be there to jump off it with you. Even if it takes a lifetime of waiting — you’d wait your entire life for her. 

As long as she’s in the sun, freckles being painted by pure light, you’d soak in the sun right along with her. 

“Thank you.” She squeaks out the words so small, you nearly miss it. 

“There’s no need for thanking. Just doing the right thing s’all.” Your smile is so sweet, Abby nearly feels every part of her body rotting with sugar. “Do you wanna talk about it?” 

“There was just this girl and I really thought she liked me but she really didn’t and I have this thing where I get a lot of anxiety or nervous I kind of just puke. It’s totally lame, god, I can’t wait to get out of this place.” 

“Me too. High school sucks.” You agree with her, offering a small smile as you finish cleaning her up. “But she’s totally lame for not seeing how great you are.” 

Abby tries not to blush, but she can’t hit the crimson swell painting the apples of her cheeks and the tips of her ears. “Did you try to kiss her or something?” 

“I didn’t really get that far, she wouldn’t even dance with me. Not here, not prom, guess I’m not cool enough for her.” Pushing the metal frame of her glasses up her nose, trying to stop herself from biting into her blunt nails, nearly drawing blood. Now that she’s come down from her puking fest, she sees how beautiful you are. The kind of beauty that would bring her to her knees if Abby wasn’t already there. 

“Cool is overrated. Who cares about being cool? We’re all losers trying to figure it out.” You say it as if it’s the most obvious statement in the world, as if you’re confident in exactly who you want to be. Abby is envious of it. She wonders what it’s like to be so free — to not wonder what everyone is constantly thinking about you — if you’re good enough. 

You don’t seem to care. 

“If you still wanna dance, I’d dance with you. We can be losers together.” You offer up to her as you stand to your feet, offering a hand up to her and she takes it willingly. You grab the jacket to her suit, helping her slip into it and she smoothes the jacket over her frame. 

“You really don’t have to—” But you look at her with the most absurd gaze of refusal, eyebrows furrowed as it makes this cute little line between them.  Abby can’t help but admire it. 

“Oh, we’re going to fucking dance and show whoever this bitch is just what she’s missing.” 

You didn’t even know her name, she didn’t know yours, but you’d shown more kindness to her than she ever thought she deserved. 

Present day. 

There’s a lot to be said for how you let yourself succumb to her again, it didn’t take much, just a batting of blonde eyelashes and irresistible pouty lips and you’d fallen victim to Abigail Anderson. The hardest thing you’ve ever done was leave her. All these years later, you’re right back to where you were before all of this had started. 

It seems to shock all of her friends when the two of you walk on together and even more shocking when Abby throws her arm behind you, engaging in conversation here and there. Mostly, you tune out the conversation and mindlessly sip on the beer in front of you. 

Hazel isn’t happy about the predicament, cold brown eyes sport a simmering guidance of rage as she watches Abby’s fingers on your shoulder tracing random patterns into your skin. The arrival of your presence in turn makes her take jabs at you all night. Even with your silence, it doesn’t stop her, and when you have no visceral reaction she finally goes for something that brings silence around the entire table. 

“Why are you even here? Breaking Abby’s heart wasn’t enough the first time? Why don’t you run back to your sick mother and stop playing with people just because it’s fun for you.” Hazel bites and you feel the swarm of your tears begin to build and she keeps going, “Isn’t that why you came back? Not because you actually care but because your mom is going to die.” 

“Sorry, excuse me—” Hazel scoffs as you slither away and head towards the bathroom. As if she’s accomplished, she sips on her margarita, like what she just did was a service to everyone here. 

Ellie and Dina sit there in shock, trying to process what the fuck had just happened. Jesse sits there silently, discomfort written all over his face. But Abby? She’s filled with a soaring hot rage, face flushed violet as her knuckles turn white. Hazel immediately shrinks into the booth, unprepared for what’s about to happen. 

She thought Abby would be happy, kicking someone who so wrongly hurt her to the curb. You didn’t deserve her. You never would. Hazel deserves you. She’s been here, waiting for Abby to see her and love her, not you. 

“What the fuck is your problem? Cherry wasn’t even doing a goddamn thing and you’ve been attacking them all damn night.” Abby’s rage is palpable, steaming to the touch, and nothing like any of them have ever seen. 

“I did this for you! She treated you horribly! She broke your heart! She deserves it.” 

Abby pinches the bridge of her nose, tossing her head against the wall, “This has got to fucking stop. Cherry broke up with me goddamn ten years ago and it’s none of your business.” Hazel could practically see the steam rolling off her before Abby raised her voice even more, “You didn’t have a right to bring up her mom regardless of whatever happened. Jesus, if I want to be around her or want Cherry around, everyone here is just going to have to fucking deal.” 

“Abby, we’re just trying to look out for you. Cherry only ever thinks about herself.” 

“Well fucking don’t. I can handle myself despite whatever you think I can deal with. Stay the fuck away from her or you’ll live to regret it.” 

Throwing a twenty on the table to cover her tab, she finds you washing your face, trying to get rid of the puffiness in your eyes. When you see her, you turn her away, a lame attempt to stop her from seeing you like this. 

Weak. Overbearing. A winded rush pressing on your lungs, struggling to breathe — you didn’t need any of this. Not to be back right where it all destroyed you. Then here she is, the living reminder of your transgressions, your failure, the one thing you couldn’t fix. 

All roads lead to her. All of it is sick and twisted. The look of love pierces through your soul, scouring through the place you keep hidden under lock and key; the part that still loves her. 

It demands attention. To be heard. To be seen. To violate you and your dreams, to place her before everything else. A violent reminder of how all of this started. Before you could catch up with the tide, everything flips, your entire life becomes a reflection of what you feared. 

Abby has her life together and yours is coming apart. 

Everyone hates you for what you become. For how little you cared about leaving the first twenty years of your life behind, a chapter closed and discarded as if it never existed to you in the first place. 

“Let me take you home, alright? I’m sorry for Hazel she’s—” 

“It’s fine.” You cut her off, drying your eyes, or trying to but you can’t stop crying in the first place. “It was stupid of me to agree to this.” 

“You aren’t stupid, sorry, she was being a cunt. It won’t happen again. I won’t let it happen.” 

Abby carefully wipes your tears away, “Hey, let’s get out of here. Yeah? My place is just up the street. Just the two of us.” 

You nod as Abby leads you out, her palm feels welcoming in your grip, a homecoming you have been dying to feel. Her touch feels warm, perfect as her fingers interlock with your own. Like no time has passed, it’s easy for you to slip back into her grasp. 

Everything about her feels right. When she helps you get in her truck, the old one her father always wanted to renovate and it seems she did just that. The ride is only a couple minutes before she’s parking in the garage of her home. She opens the door for you, a hand on your back as she leads you towards the door leading into her house. 

What you expect to be a farmhouse, a hint of southern barn meets boho chic, but you’re met with something else entirely. 

It’s exactly what she talked about building growing up. Everything else feels modern except the cherry red kitchen with white accents and marble countertops. There’s cherries everywhere, but it’s subtle enough to the naked eye, you wouldn’t blink twice.

The memory comes back to you in a hot flash, one you weren’t fond of. 

“We can have it all. I’ll buy you a damn house, I’ll give you whatever you want, whatever you need, I want this, Cherry. More than I’ve ever wanted anything. I love you, please, can’t you see a future with both of us?” 

“But I don’t want to be here. You know that! My dad can hardly look at me because I’m with a woman, my mom tries but she doesn’t understand. Is this the kind of life you want? They remind me that I’m not good enough. Who I love isn’t good enough, not if I’m not with a man. Can you understand I’m dying to get out of this nothin’ town?” 

Abby gnaws at her bottom lip, teeth drawing blood as she sees you drawing within yourself. Pulling back at the first sign of hardship. Even Abby wonders if she’s worth fighting for. 

“You mean dying to get away from me? I’m in this nothin’ town you despise so much.” 

“Abigail, you’re taking words out of my mouth, that’s not what I’m saying.” 

“You just want to leave and I don’t.” You look at her, her adorable pout in a frown, arms she’s been bulking for the past couple years begin to show definition. The freckles she hates grew more prominent on her skin as she spent the summer working for father’s construction company. 

Her life is here, her future is here, but for once since the two of you met, your own two different paths and no matter how much you love her — it just won’t work. 

“We’re eighteen! Our entire lives are in front of us. I can’t stay here, Abigail. I just can’t. I dream of a big city, somewhere my stories will take me places, a life that I can’t find here.” 

“You got the scholarship, didn’t you?” Abby barks, her chest puffing out, jaw clenching as she pleads for you to tell her the truth. “Tell me the truth. You’ve been lying to me, hoping I’d change my mind?” 

“I wasn’t lying. I just—” 

“What? You were just going to leave one morning and never come back? Like I mean nothing to you?” Abby removes her glasses to pinch the bridge of her nose. “Like the past two years have just been what? A way for you to pass time until your real life comes along. Fucking great.” 

“I told you from the start, I want more. I need to do more! No one gets into NYU around here and certainly not on a scholarship. I have a chance for a real future, a way out from my parents, a new life, I’ve always wanted this. You know I have.” 

“And I’ve always wanted you.” 

Silence engulfs the room, a pindrop could be heard, the tension could be cut with a knife but Abby sees the wall closing around you. Covering her from the heart you slowly opened up to her, what she fought tooth and nail for. She always fought for you but it’s hard to do anything when you don’t believe this is worth saving. 

“You don’t even have the decency to ask me.” 

“What?” 

“You just want to write me off. You lump me with everyone else because you don’t even give me the chance.” 

“What are you saying?” 

Abby’s blue eyes turn into ice, all the warmth void as the chill sends a shiver down your spine. Her throat feels tight, like even if she swallows her own spit she’ll choke. 

“Do you love me enough to make this work?” Abby flinches when you don’t immediately answer, because she knows where she stands, she would follow you across the world if it meant that’s what you wanted. To make you happy. But she can’t help but feel like she’s splitting herself apart for someone who doesn’t care in the way she does. 

With tears in your eyes, they cascade down your cheek before whispering to her, “I don’t.” 

“Get. Out.” She murmurs through clenched teeth, using the sleeve of her t-shirt, one you gifted her, to wipe away the tears that wouldn’t stop coming. The overflow of the heartache racked through her body like she’s never felt before. 

You don’t love her. You don’t love her. You never loved her. 

“Abs, please, don’t make me leave like this. Can we talk about this?” 

“What’s there to fucking talk about? We don’t love me, Cherry. What else is there to fucking say?” 

You nearly scream, not sure why anything you’re saying isn’t coming out the way you intended it to. “You’re not listening to me I—” 

“Right. You just need to find a man, right? God, you’re just like Lacey.” 

“What the fuck did you just say to me?” You bite, and if looks could kill, Abby would be dead right now. She’s struck a nerve, the memory of sophomore year comes flooding back to her, back when all of this started. “God, fuck you. How could you possible compare me to the straight girl that pulled you along because what she really wanted was Daniel Collins to fuck her so stupid she ended up pregnant junior year.” 

“You’re leaving, when your back is pressed up against a wall, you’ll always leave, Cherry.” 

“But I—” You stop yourself before you could speak the forbidden words, the ones you’ve said to her a million times, the one you just refuted that you did even if she can usually call you right on your bullshit. But you’ve diluted her sense of reasoning and all she hears is her girlfriend of two years just told her she doesn't love her. 

“You what? What other lies are you going to tell me?” 

“Fine.” Your expression turns stone cold, “Let’s both be done with it then. There’s nothing left to fight for.”  

Prideful ego gets in the way of what Abby wants and she finally lets her head speak for her, “Sounds good to me.” 

“Are you alright?” Abby asks but then she notices you’re just staring at her kitchen and she’s never been so self-conscious in her life. She didn’t even think about it, she’s so used to others seeing it but it’s different when your muse is taking in the craft you created with them in mind. 

“Oh, right, the cherries.” She stutters out, scratching the back of her neck as she turns the lights on. It smells of vanilla and something oak, just like she smelled in high school. To others it may seem boring but it’s refreshing to know she’s still the same as she was. 

“You still did it?” 

“Yeah, it’s kinda lame honestly, maybe I should have done something else but nothing ever fit right with the rest of the house so.” Abby pops open a beer, somehow needing to have some type of liquor while you gawk at the work she created with you in mind. “If I’m being honest, I think it was just a way for me to hold onto you. I sure didn’t think I would ever see you again.” 

“Me neither.” You answered truthfully, the loss of Abby rattled you, even though you were better at hiding it. Losing her is still the most painful loss you had to endure, which she considers fortunate, but not fortunate enough. “I always thought about what would have happened if I hadn’t been so headstrong. I think I had to convince myself in order to leave, I would have stayed here for you if not.” 

“I find that hard to believe.” Even if she pretends not to be, Abby’s still bitter. 

“Why?” 

“You always knew what you wanted out of life and that wasn’t me.” Abby chews on her bottom lip again, picking the label of the beer before taking another swig. “Hell, you left before I even got a chance to say goodbye.” 

“What?” Eyebrows scrunched in confusion as you take a step forward, “Did you come to the house?” 

“Of course I did. I wasn’t going to leave things like that. Did you not—” 

“No, I didn’t know, I thought that was it. I didn’t expect there to be more for my sake.” 

The way she looks at you feels like she’s peering into her soul, the way she sees you so clearly, better than anyone ever has, chilling you to your core. Bits and pieces of your love located in eyes that glimmer only for her, light electrified the moment your sights are set on her. 

It feels like falling in love with a broken melody. 

You admire the imperfections instead of leaving at the bridge. 

“I waited on your porch for hours but then your parents came home, saying they just had gotten back from dropping you off.” 

In a matter of moments, your entire world feels flipped, like everything you had known for the last ten years, a terrible lie you wished to never know. A nightmare you would hope to wake up from. That’s all this was, you would wake up in her father’s home as you fought in the kitchen, you convince yourself not to let go of the best thing that’s ever happened to you. 

“You came back for me?” 

Closing the space between the two of you, grabbing her beer and placing it on the countertop. Abby takes an intake of breath as you invade every part of her personal space. As corny as it sounds, you do smell of cherries. So sweet, her bones feel weak with need, as if she doesn’t inhale the sugar she’ll just crumble at your feet, begging for just one drop. 

“Yeah, I cried in front of your dad who hated me at the time, might I add. After that, he was kind, I think because he saw how much I…you know…” 

You remember how much he changed when you came home for the holidays three years later. Naturally, you always accepted he had just come around over time, but it wasn’t that at all — the weeps of your high school girlfriend convinced him. 

“Guess he saw how much I loved you or something…I don’t know…” She shrugs like it’s nothing. 

Like she's nothing; the careless lie you let her believe. 

Even with her dominating physical presence, she’s always been shy about this sort of thing. Expressing her feelings never really came easy, even if she wore them with her heart on her sleeve, admitting them was different than feeling them. 

“You changed his mind.” 

“He would have gotten there eventually. I’m sure he liked whoever you dated after me.” 

“Hm.” You grimly laugh, “He didn’t. Not the two I brought home but he always spoke fondly of you, he definitely likes you better then he enjoys his own kid.” 

Patient she is watching you process the information, it’s almost too much for her to swallow. What if you had been home when she was going to say goodbye? Would this be your home with her? The dreams of kissing her in the kitchen, cherry inspired, the family home she always wanted to build for the two of you. Now she’s here with no one but herself. Withering away the soul of a woman who only wanted love. 

“He loves you and if he doesn’t, that’s his loss. Trust me, I know it too well.” 

The confession hangs on the walls like a memorial, taking a trip down memory lane, or more like the hell of your own making. Demons you conjured cast over your past as if they only exist in hollow halls. The deeper you go, the more your heart slivers in the cracks of her delicate grip. For the first time, you don’t mind when she presses on your heartbeat — demanding more with just looking at you the way she does. 

The way she always has. 

“Do you still love me?” 

“Are you going to run away if I tell you?” 

Lips ghost over you, her breath hits your face, making it flush with heat. She leans against the counter, wrapping your back with one of her arms, tugging you close to her. 

“Abby, I’m a mess.” 

“I know.” 

“I don’t know what my family is going to look like or my future.” 

“I know.” 

“Abigail, would you stop saying that?” 

“I’ve only ever cared about you, I don’t care if your life is together. I’m here and I—” She dips her head to kiss down your neck, decorating your collarbones with her lips as she creates a map back to where she wants to the most, “will take care of you.” 

Abby kisses you like the air in her lungs is expendable, as she has endless amounts to give. That’s all she is love, pouring into every ounce of you that she can find. With desperate abandon, she wants to wipe your memory of every wrong she ever did you — she only wants to remind you of the reason why she loves you. Maybe it’ll be enough for you to wake up in her arms again. 

For once, she might be enough. 

“We don’t have to do this, I don’t know what it all means and—” 

“Right now? I don’t fucking care.” Abby leeches off your neck, kissing and delicately sucking, grazing her sharp teeth against sensitive skin. “I just want you.” 

Thoughtless abandon goes out the window as she guides you back into her apartment, off the spacious balcony and corners you into her room. Letting you fall on her bed as she stands above you, as she strips in front of you. Making a show of it, torturing you for sport, before she goes in for the kill. 

The alcohol still alive in your mind as she pulls off, a freckled maze maps its way all over her body. The subtle blonde happy trails travels underneath her navel and disappears beneath the fabric of her denim jeans. Your own self-control begins to slip, but Abby is too concerned with evening out the playing field. Even if this is a long-lasting goodbye, she’s going to make it last. 

Slipping your trousers down your legs, she’s met with cotton boxers — soaked all the way through. 

“Is that all for me?” Abby snaps the waistband against your skin as you squirm underneath your touch, bucking your hips into the air. Impossibly desperate for her touch. 

“Y-Yes, It’s for—” Irrevocably your eyes roll back into your skull, “Abigail, oh shit, shit, shitttt.”  

Sneaking a hand in your boxers, she opens up your inviting folds, slippery and as Abby glides along, collecting your slick with the calloused fingers. You squirm and shift, bucking into her hand, waiting for more to be given to you. 

“Just say my name like that pretty girl, so good for me, aren’t you?” Abby removes her hand as she pulls your boxers off your legs and without being asked she slides them down your legs as she pushes your shirt up to your tits, exposing the swell of your breasts to her possessive eyes, waiting to lay claim onto what she’s missed for the past ten years. 

“I wonder if you’re just as…” Abby takes a beat before rubbing over your hard nipple along her tongue, her denim-glad thigh grinding against your thigh as she suckles at your breasts. “Sensitive.” 

She moans into your skin, using her free hand to play with your pussy, soft strokes to your clit as she elicits more moans from you. The force of her strength and weight keeps you down, the stutter of your hips chasing her fingers. 

“My pretty baby, not so mean and bossy anymore, huh?” She bites your nipple gently before whispering in your ear, “Did you miss me that much?” 

“I just want more, please.” 

In any other circumstance, she happily would make you pay for it. Wait even, but if she doesn’t have you in her mouth for another second, she won’t survive. You’re so beautiful, you’re perfect in every conceivable way. The years had in fact been kind to you, different from what she knew when the two of you had sex but god, she thinks you’re even more exquisite now. 

“More?” Abby removes what remains of her clothing, leaving you to gawk at her muscled frame, small tits frame her chest perfectly. “How about you sit on my face, angel? How does that sound?” 

She’s already made you come twice, just on her tongue alone, pushing for a third as she holds you by the waist, waiting for your overstimulated body to give into her once more. 

Abby makes everyone look inadequate when it comes to her, no one could touch you like this, fuck you like this, slither their talent tongue inside your waiting hold as you take her out for a ride. Muffled moans against your dripping cunt sends shivers throughout your spine, body twitching as you feel yourself hurling closer to the edge. 

You can’t help but ride her face as your head lies on the bundle of curves covering her mound and you’ve been too fucked out the entire time to do anything but you can’t help but notice the way her patient cunt is shining with her slick. Curiosity blooms within you as you notice the slight thrust of her hips, chasing a part of you that isn’t there. 

With no sudden warning, you vigorously rub on her wet folds, applying pressure on her bundle of nerves as you spread her sweet juices along her puffed lips. 

“Baby, nghhh, oh my god.” Abby slurps as she sucks your clit into her mouth before you fall right over the edge again. Her eager tongue fucks your through it with her tongue, letting your ride the high as your nails scratch her stomach, marking her as yours once again. 

Abby helps your weak body slide down her legs, flipping you over as your pussy falls against her, her legs spread open as your head rests against her sternum, feeling the increased rate of her heart beat thump against her chest. 

She smooths her hand over your hair, gorgeous hypnotic eyes pull at Abby’s heart. “We should get some sleep.” 

“We can…unless you want to entertain a thought I’m having.” Abby raises her eyebrow as rotate your hips, clit bumping against hers as she throws her head back, a string of curses fall from her lips as she grips onto your hips. Happily, she lets you take control, pushing her strong leg over your shoulder as you glide against her soaked pussy. 

“Oh fuck, fuck, holy fucking shit—” 

Perfect tits bouncing as you rock your hips against her movement, the more you look in her eyes, you feel yourself yearning for another release. It’s never been this good, never with anyone. The moans she whispers, kept in the secret coven of your love, the spells she casts to keep you near — it trumps anything you’ve ever felt. 

“Keep looking at me, Abigail.” The whine of her full name, only ever falling from your lips, the most wonderful symphony. It’s intoxicating how much she loves it. How much she loves you. Deep in her bones, even if she tries her best to pull away, she knows not a damn thing will ever compare to this. For this life and the next, she’ll be searching for you in everyone she meets. 

She can’t live another moment with you. Not after ten years of agony, fuck no, she needs you like she needs oxygen to breathe. You’re not sure how long it takes, but you don’t forget how Abby looks at you with a tender heart that basically pours out of her. 

“Baby, please. N-N-gh, I need you.” You push her forward, hitting a deeper angle than you were before until you hear just how wet she is with your forehead pressed against hers, “Show me how my pretty girl comes, yeah? Need a reminder, princess.” 

Abby moans out your name, her body fucking up into you, slithering her convulsing cunt against your clit as her defined abdomen twitches and only relaxes when you follow her lead, you body collapsing on her. Two hearts beats become one as the two of you fall asleep, a quiet whisper of I love you, but you’re not sure if it falls from your lips or hers. 

The morning air breathes lilies and fresh espresso, her sweet cinnamon cologne lingers in her sheets, where she held you all night with her heavenly embrace. Reality sinks in and then you’re afraid once again. You slip one of her button up shirts on, pulling on a pair of her sweats before your feet are met with the cool wooden floors. 

She’s sitting there, those stupid glasses she apparently didn’t get rid of. Making her look stupid cute as she read the velvet-green covered book in her large palms. 

It’s easy for her to tell how you feel, Abby knows you too well as she watches you with cautious eyes. You’re so afraid of it all. Always, you’ve been afraid of what she makes you feel, how close she pushes you to the edge of no return. A love you feel helpless to, especially when it eats you from the inside out. 

“Do you wanna leave? I can take you home.” Abby doesn’t even look up from her book, she sounds annoyed, completely different than her vulnerable demeanor last night. It puzzles you when she closes herself off. 

“Am I missing something? Did I do something wrong?” 

Abby folds her book, marking the page on the sharp corner before she takes off her glasses. “You don’t owe me anything if that’s what you’re worried about. You felt like you didn’t before. You in all your city glory.” 

Something happened. 

“Abby, what’s going on?” 

“You tell me.” She places your phone on the table and it’s the email detailing of your new book tour in Europe. One that lasts the better part of the year. 

“You snooped through my phone?” 

“I didn’t mean to, I thought it was mine, okay? I would never do that.” Abby sighs, “I really didn’t mean to fucking look. I just, it’s happening all over again, I’m losing you over something. I’m never what you pick and I can’t ever be enough for you. Even Hazel was right! All you do is hurt me and it’s my fault because I let you. I can’t keep chasing you. It’s a stupid dream I’m too dumb enough to let go of.” 

“So, that’s it? Last night was just what? A mistake?” 

“I didn’t say that—” 

“But you did! Fuck, I should have known things wouldn’t change.” 

“You should have known? This is the same reason why you left me. I’ll lose you, again, to something I can’t compete with. The both of us know it to be true. At least have the decency to admit it.” 

“Do you want me to apologize? I did what I wanted! I have everything I wanted. This is everything I’ve worked towards for the best ten years—” 

“But you don’t—” Abby puffs out her chest, standing taller than she has since you’ve been back. The words spill just like you did the night before, “You didn’t get everything, you made sure of it the moment you left me behind.” 

Abby has backed you into a corner, stalking you like you’re her prey but this isn’t how she wants everything to be. Looking into your dreary eyes, she’s transported back to when you shattered her heart, splitting into pieces that no longer fit. The harder she tries to piece them back, the more jagged she becomes. 

“I don’t want this. I’ve let go of it.” 

I let go of you, sounds entirely too painful to say. 

“That’s your plan? To pretend none of this has happened?” Abby’s tongue prods the inside of her cheek, a cocky smirk flashes your way. “Look at how well it turned out the first time.” 

“What is that supposed to mean?” Your arms cross over your chest, attempting to create some distance between the two of you, but Abby only closes you in. 

“Why do you still wear it?” 

“What are you talking about?” 

Abby reaches for your hand, you untangle your limbs, the pad of her thumb loving running over the silky skin. Her calloused hand feels rough, just as it always has, but it also feels right. 

The silver ring on your pinky, the one you lost and the one your father had conveniently found. But it was never him who located your perfect gem, nope. Not at all. Just Abby’s biggest fan, besides Hazel. 

The reminder of her leaves a sour taste saturating your tongue, but you have no right. It's her friend, and just because you’re not fond of her, doesn’t mean a thing. You’re just a ghost still lingering in her life. Even if she answers there’s nothing, Hazel looks at her like you used to. When the same protectiveness switched into high gear last night, she only thought of how much you would do the exact same thing Hazel did if the roles were reversed. 

Just maybe, not as cruel. 

Abby takes the ring off your thumb, it shines in the dim lighting in the room.

“The day I fell in love with you, three months into our relationship, I gave it to you. Do you remember what I said?” 

Simply, you nod. 

“Wear this for as long as you love me and when you’ve taken it off, I’ll know we’re truly done.” Abby hums, your eyes shut as her thigh wedges between your legs but it only rests there. “But I hope you wear it forever.” 

“Then let go of me, give it back, throw it away, but stop acting like you might still feel the same. I’m tired of being played. You know how much this ring means to me. Don’t leave me, again.” 

It’s a cop out for what she really wants to say, the both of you know it is, but you have the decency to let it swarm past without making a single comment. 

She’s begging for mercy. She’s tired. The lines on her skin are an indication of the hours she spends in the sun and the time passing by, engaging you in a never-ending tsunami of Abigail Anderson’s love. 

“Abigail—” You say her name like it’s a curse, a spell you keep casting to make her fall deeper in your endless abyss. “Just because it seems like a good idea doesn’t mean it’ll work out. What makes this time any different?” 

You slid away from her, needing to breathe, you can’t think when she’s too close. Serendipity finds home into honey blues, working its magic until she finds purchase in your heart once again. You’d let her get too close, more than you should let her allow. 

Abby, the heart. 

You, the head. 

The dreamer. The thinker. Forever intertwined by the deadly kiss of fate. 

“But if it did? What if we did?” 

Abby doesn’t want to beg, but she is. She learned her lesson the first time. She said nothing all those years ago, letting you take the relationship the two of you had by the reigns, your cruelty being the fatal blow to what the two of you had worked so hard to build. Naivety crushed the future right in front of her — the one she regularly dreams of. 

Each what if connected like constellations in the sky, each one just as bright as the next, Abby can’t make of which she wants. But Abby has always known it to be true, this has always been it for her but you’re so afraid. 

Still petrified to be loved. 

“I can’t let myself go through it again, if we didn’t? I can’t just—” You begin pacing, trying to get yourself into a position to clear your mind. The hope she has, it could kill you in your sleep. “I fucked up, okay? Last night shouldn’t have happened. I needed something and I used you. Is that what you want to hear? Will that satisfy you enough?” 

“I want the goddamn fucking truth, Cherry. Stop with the lies. Tell me you want this to end because you don’t love me anymore, or that you want to go on this book tour, not because you fucked up. I don’t care if you fucked me because you needed your clit sucked for the night. Tell me the truth, Cherry, please.” 

“Stop calling me that.” 

Abby chuckles maliciously, “Why? You don’t like to remember when you were in love, the only time you ever were happy, the only time you ever let anyone get close to you?” 

She attempts to get closer to you but you dodge her and walk to the other side of the room. 

“You’re quite literally running away from me. Anything but facing the truth, right?” Abby sighs into her hands. The muscles in her body are exhausted, her heart is over spent, and her mind is filled with you. Even if she doesn’t want it to be. “Do you think I want this? To feel like this? To put my heart on the line when you clearly show that you’ll discard it every damn time? Do you think this is enjoyable for me?” 

“Then stop! I’m not asking you to, just let me leave, let me go.” 

“Let the ring go.” Somehow, in your heat of emotion, you grabbed it back from her and didn't realize it had been placed back on your thumb. “You know it was my mom’s, how could you so selfishly keep this?” 

“What?” 

Fuck. Abby runs her hands through her hair,  gripping so tightly her sunkissed knuckles turn white from nearly being pulled from the root. 

“But you said this was—” 

“I lied! I was eighteen and scared shitless, okay? I didn’t want you to—” 

“You didn't want me to….?” 

Abby sighs rubbing her hand over her face, a habit she seemed to pick up in your presence. “If I tell you, you’re just going to run.” 

You grimace, tearing up as you look at the ring, it means so much to her and all this time she was perfectly fine with thinking you got rid of it. Abby never so much as asked for it back. But everything feels more final with the ring in hand, the shining promise of something more. But the naivety of youth chilled her bones, made her believe that love like this comes and goes. It goes. And goes. And goes. 

It never comes. 

“Do you want it back?” You dodge whatever omission she was about to let fall. It’s what you do best. Avoiding the future — she’s always been ominous, constantly you’re scared to believe in the faith of her undying love. The forgiveness of her heart pours like an overflowing well. Abby teeters you along the line of grace you don’t quite deserve.   

“No.”  Abby sighs before she brings herself close to you. “I want you back, Cherry. There’s nothing I’ve ever wanted as much as you. When you left, everyone told me it’s just because you're my first love. Time heals all, right? But it doesn’t. Despite your best efforts, I’ll always love you. You’re—” 

You take a step closer to her, “I’m what?”

“You’re the love of my life. If you walk at that door, it’ll take the rest of my life to fill the gap you leave. But if you don’t love me, then please, put me out of my misery and just leave.” 

Abby looks down at the wood floors, tears collecting in her eyes as she expects you to walk out the front door, leaving her in the dust. But the slam of her front door never comes, instead you sink down on your knees resting your head on her knee, waiting for her to look down at you. 

“What?” Abby grunts. 

“There was this cute, really nerdy blonde girl, she puked on prom night, crying over some straight girl and somehow I managed to fall in love with her despite all odds but you know what the real kicker is?” You intertwined her hands with her, your head tilting to the side as your dreamily looked into sunny-blues, sticking to you like honey,

“I never, ever stopped.”

[blackcoldcrackedheart]

I need to write. I'm too pissed off rn.

What if Tommy showed up after Patricia died?

Moving her mother's stuff almost felt like betrayal. Abby knew her mom was gone, a part of her felt relieved, another upset, another angry.

It was just too overwhelming to feel or think. She just had to power through it but she was getting more drained and exhausted. Despite her brother, Carla, and Buck being there to help her pack and move stuff out.

Buck was trying his best. She knew that. But she felt a little annoyed and suffocated by him right now. Despite knowing deep down he didn't do anything wrong.

"Okay, clothes are boxed up and ready." Buck let her know, holding said boxes in his arm. She didn't appreciate the smile from Carla and the mirth behind her eyes regarding Buck inadvertently showing off his muscles. "Where do you want this?"

There was a pause before her brother noticed her expression and quickly told Buck, "Over there by the door is fine." He gave Abby a questionable glance, she could see her brother making his way towards her when the doorbell rang.

"That's probably Josh or Sue." Abby sighed, wiping her hands down the side of her pants anxiously. "Buck? Would you mind?" She jutted her chin towards the door.

"Uh- yeah, sure." Buck opened the door quickly and wide, she couldn't see his expression whilst opening it but Abby figured it was similar to her's.

She momentarily frowned, stepping closer when she realized it wasn't Josh or Sue. It was a man carrying a large bouquet of white flowers that was obscuring his face- but Abby knew from the lower half of the man's body that it wasn't Josh...but she was getting deja vu.

The flowers shifted, exposing the man's face.

"Tommy!" Abby exhaled happily and in shock. Pushing past Buck to let the other man in and accept a side hug.

"There's my Abby." It felt all too familiar to be hugged by her ex. Tommy and her weren't together for that long before he came out to her. She was understanding, surprised, but understanding.

He had sworn up and down to her that he cared about her genuinely and that he wasn't using her- to some extent. But the more he spent time with her the more he knew he was just lying to himself.

She should have been upset but Tommy was always kind to her when they were dating and understanding about the fact that her mom came first.

Truth be told, they dated but they didn't spend a lot of time together and Tommy never pushed her about it.

Which made sense in the long run.

"I'm so sorry about Patricia." Tommy told her, his voice sincere, "i wanted to come to the funeral but couldn't find someone to cover my shift." He presented her with the flowers, "Thought to come here to show my respects while dropping these off."

Her brother stepped up first to grab the flowers, shifting it to one side as he stuck out his hand to shake Tommy's. "Hi, I'm Matthew." He lifted the flowers, "These are lovely, I'm sure our mother would have loved them."

Abby felt her eyes sting a bit but she pushed on, "Oh and this is Carla."

Carla gave her a sly look but said nothing as she shook Tommy's hand. "It's nice to meet you. I heard a lot about you."

Tommy paused, looking reproachful momentarily. "Ah, good things, I hope?"

Carla smiled brightly, waving her hand playfully as she told him "Of course!"

Carla didn't move just watching with a curious expression as Abby started to ask how Tommy how he was doing. Before Tommy could get into the weeds about his life, Carla cleared her throat getting the attention of Abby and Tommy.

"Isn't there someone else you might want to introduce Tommy to?" She asked Abby with raised brows and a head tilt.

Abby frowned, looking genuinely confused about who else was left till she noticed where Carla was tilting her head to.

She saw Buck standing by the door still, looking not upset or jealous as Carla might have expected.

But in awe?

Probably in awe at how he could be forgotten like that by Abby.

"Oh, Buck!" Abby gave out a self-deprecating laugh as she ushered Buck over.

Carla was not a betting woman.

But working with people for as long as she has made Carla confident in her ability to read people.

Granted, she didn't know much about Tommy except he was younger than Abby (older than Buck, clearly) and that their break up was amicable.

She thought he was a good looking guy, brown hair and blue eyes. Abby clearly had a type since Tommy was as tall as Buck, buffer slightly (what did he do for work?) And they both styled their hair similarly. Not to mention, Tommy's eyes were blue too, darker in color and sadder somehow.

She would have figured Tommy and or Buck would be a bit possessive or jealous about Abby.

But she oddly wasn't getting that vibe.

"Tommy, this is Evan Buckley, but you can call him Buck." Abby said cheerfully.

It was like watching....something unfold.

She could see Tommy’s eyes light up, a hint of a smile pulling up at the corners of his lips as he shook Buck's hand. "It's nice to meet you Evan."

Buck looked oddly...star struck?

She quirked her head to the side as she noticed Buck dry swallow, "Y-You can call me Evan."

Tommy's chuckle had Buck turning pink all over, making his birthmark seem even redder as Tommy told him. "I just did."

Matthew sided up to her, watching their introduction seemed as perplexing to him as it was to her.

"Right." Buck laughed as he took his hand back, "Right." Carla didn't miss how Buck wiped his palm on the side of his pants, the flush only deepening when Tommy asked, "I take it you're part of the family?"

Abby laughed this time, "No,no, Buck's not related. We're-" she took a deep breath as she grabbed the hand that Buck had used to shake Tommy's hand. "Dating."

"Oh."

Carla felt Mathew bump his shoulder into hers. There was no way Abby didn't see the look of disappointment on Tommy's face there.

"Is that okay?" Abby asked, unsure but knowing in a way that made Carla a little concerned.

"Of course." Tommy seemed quick to fix his face, standing up straighter as his eyes lingered on Buck in a too quick moment that Carla barely caught. "Of course." He said firmly, this time with a smile and patting Abby's arm supportively. "I'm glad you have so many people to support you. It's nice when you have family that has your back."

There definitely was a story there.

Carla didn't miss those sad eyes getting sadder.

And neither did Buck.

"I'm sure Abby is glad to have your support too. I don't know of a lot of exes that would send their ex flowers." Buck gave Tommy a smile that lit up his face, almost as though he was impressed by the guy. "You really go all in, huh." He laughed in good humor, causing Tommy to look down with a small smile of his own.

He almost looked like he was blushing himself.

"I'm not a great ex or anything, I just wanted to check in on Abby."

Buck shrugged, still looking at Tommy in awe. "Still better than any of my exes."

"Tommy is a special ex." Abby declared, running her hand up and down Tommy's arm.

(Yeah, Carla didn't miss Tommy wincing there and looking at Buck)

"You are a sweetheart, you know that right?" Abby asked, not giving Tommy time enough to react or answer before going, "Hey! You know, this is perfect timing because Buck here is a firefighter too."

Buck and Tommy were taken back by that. "You're a firefighter too?" Buck asked excitedly.

Tommy shrugged, seemingly playing coy as he replied "Firefighter pilot really."

Buck's eyes lit up with even more excitement, "No way! That's so cool! You're like a superhero or something."

That had Tommy rubbing the back of his neck in clear discomfort, "Or something." He muttered, but that didn't Buck from asking a bunch of questions about being a firefighter pilot.

Carla thought it was sweet that Tommy and Buck were getting along, clearly Buck had taken a liking to Tommy quickly.

Quick enough that Abby was looking annoyed now.

"Buck." Abby cleared her throat, throwing an apologetic look towards Tommy. "I'm sure Tommy has better things to do on his off day than talk about work."

Before Buck has the chance to become disappointed at that Tommy shook his head, all smiles as he told Buck. "Actually I really don't have anything better to do." He finally looked around the room, noticing the boxes and stacks of Patricia's belongings. "But I can see you guys do." He gave Abby a sheepish smile, "I didn't mean to over step."

"No, no." Abby waved him off, "You didn't, it was nice. It really means a lot that you showed up...it's just-"

"I know. I should get out of your hair." Tommy and Abby shared a small smile and laugh, clearly it was a inside joke. He nodded towards Carla and Matthew, "It was nice meeting you two." He turned to Buck, his smile a hit different. Carla could see something there. Even the way Tommy held himself was different when he spoke to Buck. "It was really nice meeting you too, Evan." He stuck out his hand for Buck to shake.

"Yeah- yeah. Y-you too." Buck fumbled, earning a playful smile from Tommy.

Before the latter opened the door, Buck suddenly went, "I should get your number."

Carla needed popcorn for this now.

Tommy looked at him questioningly, a confused but ghost of a smile there as he looked towards Buck for clarification.

Buck could feel all eyes on him now, he looked at Abby and then at Carla and Matthew before turning to look at Tommy again. "Y’know...for firefighting... stuff." He stammered, he shook his head and held his chin higher, a bit proud of himself as he told Tommy "I'm a probie so it would be great to talk to you. Maybe get some pointers?"

Tommy shook his head as he laughed, head tilted up and eyes finally bright as he told Buck. "Of course." And pulled out his cellphone as Buck did the same.

"I'll call you? Maybe we can set up a time for your to tour the harbor?"

Buck sighed in relief, his smile matching Tommy's as he told him "I would love that."

Tommy nodded , patting Buck's arm as the other man held his wrist momentarily. "We'll talk soon then Evan. Bye."

"Bye Tommy."

Once Tommy was out and the door was closed, Buck was right back at Abbys side. "Tommy seems so cool!"

"Yeah, he is." Abby confirmed, not looking bothered at all that her current boyfriend and ex were chummy now. "I'm glad you two seem to like each other."

"What's not to like? Tommy seems really interesting." Buck looked back at the door, his eyes falling back to the boxes. "Was there anything else in your room that belonged to your mom that you wanted me to move?"

While Abby gave Buck a list of things to grab, Matthew could only ask Carla "Is he always like that with people?" Referring to Buck

Carla shook her head "No." Granted, she didn't know Buck for too long but Buck always struck her as the jealous and insecure type when it came to Abby.

But he seemed opened and even excited about Tommy.

Even before knowing that Tommy was a firefighter too.

(Abby really had a type.)

"Guess Tommy is just so cool." Carla joked, realizing the joke fell flat as Matthew still looked at Buck with a studious expression. "What? What do you think it is?" She asked.

Matthew became all smiles and coy himself, "I don't know yet."

[nerdygaymormon]

I recently found your blog and you post many interesting, thoughtful things. I have a question, and I'm not trying to be rude, but why is being gay such an important part of your identity. Not just you, but people are so proud of it and they post about it and they do a big celebration in June and so on. Being straight isn't like that for me or other people.

It's true that being queer is simply a part of our natural being, not something we did or accomplished, and so it may seem strange to others that we have Pride in this.

Things for which someone is treated differently, that aspect of yourself will become a big deal to you. This is true of race, color, religion, sex, age, disability, and so on. Being treated poorly for some trait will likely impact your feelings of self worth. These things about who you naturally are would not be a big deal for the individual if someone else didn't first make it a big deal.

Think about a pendulum that swings back and forth. Normally it would be still, just hanging there. But when the ball is pulled to one side, the natural reaction is for it to move just as far to the other side.

For queer people, we have been repressed by our nation, our religion, our family, and so on. Because we were made to feel uncomfortable and guilty about our gender and orientation, because being who we are was banned, when we come out we go through a phase of pushing back against that negativity as a way to validate ourselves. When you've grown up this way and hidden how you experience things, getting to the point that you're willing to explore & accept yourself means each new understanding feels like a big revelation and you want everyone to know. My sexual orientation is a big deal to me because it was such a big deal (in the negative way) to my family first.

People eventually reach an equilibrium where they're comfortable with themselves, and neither try to hide nor advertise who they are, they just live their life.

As a society we have been marginalizing groups for a long time for traits they have naturally. As a nation we are collectively going through the pushback phase and groups who were made to feel guilty, or lesser than, or even punished, for being who they naturally are have been rising up and expressing pride in who they naturally are. If they hadn't been marginalized first, this opposite reaction of Pride wouldn't be necessary, like in the way that Straight Pride or White Pride isn't a thing because those were not traits which were forbidden and punished.

[lullabyes22-blog]

In your melco married au, I was wondering if ambessa would be inclined to meet melike purely out of a grandmothers desire, or if she doesn’t want anything to do with her if it means that Mel won’t return to Noxus either way? Hope you’re doing well ✨

She'd absolutely drop in - complete with manufactured excuses "My generals are interested in the medicinal Shimmer your husband is bankrolling," - "I had business in Greater Shurima and thought your Hexgates would cut the journey in half," - "My ships need refueling and Zaun's diesel is cheaper."

She'd 100% barge into Mel and Silco's estate and make herself right at home, because what are boundaries? What is permission? This is her daughter, and her daughter's daughter, and Ambessa is the fount from whence this greatness sprung. They should be thrilled she's taking time off from conquest and terror campaigns to darken their doorstep.

Each time, Mel ends up wildly stressed, Silco vaguely irritated, and their staff on tenterhooks because having a Noxian general as a houseguest comes with tons of demands: fresh meat for dinner, entertainment and lodgings for Ambessa's huge entourage, plenty of space for Ambessa's hounds to roam free and a whole private berch for her ships etc.

Not to mention Silco's network have to make sure they slip no spies into Zaunite territory.

Deep down, though, Ambessa does want to see how her granddaughter is progressing, and that she's picking up no nasty Trencher habits like self-determinism, backtalk and making friends with the hoi polloi.

She'll inflict Mel with a barrage of unsolicited advice, and criticize every aspect of Mel's softhearted approach to mothering:

"You let the infant sleep in yours and your husband's bed?"

"What, no wet-nurse? You'll ruin your figure."

"Why does she cry all the time? Is she ill?"

"She cannot speak yet? That's what you get for raising her around mongrels."

"She's so skinny. You aren't feeding her enough."

"Are you sure you didn't bed the valet? She looks nothing like her father."

Mel will grit her teeth and say as little as possible, and Silco will sit beside her with an expression of half-lidded neutrality while inside he considers a hundred creative ways to commit matricide-in-law.

(Jinx, in the rafters, has already retrofitted sludge-bombs to explode on impact the moment Ambessa's warship is at high sea. She'll be listening to the newsreel after Ambessa departs with the eagerness of a child anticipating fireworks.)

To Silco's credit, he's a skilled, if frosty, host, and Ambessa's ego is quite gratified by all the trouble that uppity Trencher is taking to impress her. (She doesn't realize that he's doing this to put Mel's mind at ease. The less ammunition Ambessa has re: Zaun's unsuitability as a "backwater", and the less barbs she has to sling re: Silco's suitability as a consort, the better. She also doesn't realize that it's Mel's impeccable tastes and ease with managing a city that's making her visit so pleasant: every amenity already anticipated, the servants respectful but not clingy, the wine cellar stocked with excellent vintages and a dinner menu that's as sophisticated as it is varied.)

In the evenings, he'll take Ambessa's entourage to the Deadlands to hunt Sump-boar, and Ambessa's guards will marvel that such an ugly, wretched place has so much hidden splendor, and Ambessa's officers will take in the eerie landscape and Silco's ease with navigating the tunnels and wonder if maybe the rumors about the Eye being a secret blood-sorcerer are true.

Ambessa will never say she's enjoying herself, but she will say she could've done worse for a son-in-law, that Silco has a sense of ruthless finesse and an ironclad understanding of fatherly duty, and that the baby is "coming along nicely, even if she's still too puny to handle a broadsword."

(She has no idea that by the time Melike's seven, he'll have taught her how to sever arteries six different ways with a butterfly knife.)

(She also has no clue Melike can, in fact, speak. She just doesn't speak in front of Ambessa. A blessing, given her favorite words are "Piss off!", "Boom!" and "Papa<3!")

(The girl will continue practicing selective mutism in front of the Medarda Matriarch until she's at least five years old).

On the whole, though, Ambessa tends to end these drop-ins the tiniest bit more favorably disposed toward her daughter's choice of husband. Not that she'd ever say it to either's face. Instead she'll drop pointed remarks to Mel, like "He's a clever enough businessman, but beware: he has no love for the Imperium, and you are Imperium through and through," or "He's a passable enough husband, but do not let that slippery tongue fool you: a shark's teeth stay hidden till it's too late," or "His city's an industrious one, but the darkness and fumes are bad for a woman's looks, and he is a man who fixates on beauty."

And she'll depart with a final, ominous, "You'd have been better off in Noxus. Your place is at the heart of the empire. He cannot give you that."

Then she'll roll out with her warships and her bloodthirsty entourage, leaving behind the faint whiff of blood and iron and the lingering sense that her presence has stirred the pot of Mel's marriage to Silco in ways none of them will enjoy.

Mel will spend the next week or two on edge, jittery and disgruntled, and Silco will start thinking about how he can fortify Zaun's borders against foreign invasion. They'll have an argument by the month's end over whether Silco's dreams of Zaun take precedence over their dreams for their family, and whether Mel secretly plans to betray him once his back is turned and abscond with Melike to the Motherland, and their household will be in disarray and the atmosphere will be fraught- until they realize, oh, they have the place all to themselves again.

Then it's off to bed, and mending whatever rift Ambessa's visit has torn between them with lots and lots of makeup sex and plenty of renewed vows of devotion in the afterglow.

Little Melike grows up watching the dance between her father and her mother and her grandmother, and decides, y'know, her folks have a relationship that hinges on compromise, even if they both veer towards extremes. Her grandmother, however, is an example of a woman who doesn't compromise, doesn't negotiate, doesn't budge: an icon, a figurehead, a titan.

A woman who has carved out her own path, and expects the same of her kin.

And Melike goes: y'know?

I think I'll be a titan, too.

And by twenty, she's taken control of the Shimmer trade routes. By twenty-five, she's got her own mercantile empire. By thirty, she's taken over a small province in Shurima and brought it under Zaun's jurisdiction as a client state, and she's done it, not with cutthroat business deals like Papa, or sly political maneuvering like Mama, but with sheer, uncompromising will and a ruthless streak that, once awakened, she never puts to sleep.

She goes on to be a charismatic, brilliant leader and an unstoppable force: ready to spread word of self-determination across the continents, and willing to take on any empire that stands in her way.

Ambessa's last days will be spent hearing about her granddaughter's meteoric rise, and thinking: shit.

The Medarda bloodline might actually last the distance.

And if Mel and Silco's union is what birthed this perfect storm of intellect and will, both Wolf and Fox wrapped in a mermaid's pretty fins, then well…

Maybe there's something to be said about strength in compromise, after all.

<3

[valacre]

: ̗̀➛ It’s Okay

Drift x Reader 2/2

Cradled in warmth and engulfed on every side, you lay half-asleep within his servos as he lay on his side, watching you closely as your chest rose and fell steadily. He watched those small, delicate little fingers twitch, felt how your hair tickled as you moved your head ever so slightly now and again, and observed the barely visible scabs peeking out from your scalp, all healing well.

You’d been forced to stay in the medical bay for days under constant observation, and you’d hated every moment of it, but you’d been too mentally weak to be left alone. A threat to yourself.

Drift hadn’t been able to be there, the shame and the guilt had been too much, so he’d relied on Ratchet for reports on your health. You’d been unwilling to eat and drink at first, but after a surprise visit from Megatron, you’d begun to cooperate; slowly.

Drift did still not know the full extent of what you’d spoken about, and all Megatron had revealed was how you’d both discussed poetry, music, and dreams. No details, though. Megatron hadn’t wanted to elaborate, and neither had you once he’d built up the courage to finally collect you again. He’d been afraid to bring you back to his room, the very place you’d hurt yourself, but you hadn’t shown discomfort at the sight of his door, nor had you put up a fuss at being brought inside.

You reacted very little to everything, and at first, he’d been worried your mind had drifted off to worlds beyond his reach, but whenever you looked up at him with those eyes he’d grown to love so much, you always seemed present. Exhausted, but present.

He should have been glad, but when you first gave him a weak smile, he’d felt his spark twist unpleasantly and he’d looked so sad it made you look sad again. And he felt terrible. Terrible. Yet you seemed far too willing to forgive him.

Your lovely, beautiful little self was willing to forgive him for ruining your life, and you’d grown to look at him with such wondrous understanding that you’d almost made him weep from the shock of it because he didn’t deserve it. He didn’t deserve you and it was tearing him apart because he couldn’t force himself to part with you either.

The thought of letting you go, of losing you in any way, made it feel like he was dying.

He was selfish. He knew that, and he knew you still weren’t happy, that you still missed your home, but you’d regained some light in your eyes. He didn’t think all of it would return, not as long as you stayed here, but you didn’t appear to feel hopeless anymore, though it was too early to tell all yet.

“Are you okay?” your voice called out, sleepy and soft, and your eyes opened slightly to look at him. Drift wanted to drown in them.

“Yes,” said he, lying far too easily.

Your eyes opened a little further, and the expression on your face made his intake squeeze as his optical ridges furrowed in despair. Tender and soft, that was your expression, and there was no smile, but it was gentler, that understanding shining clearly through and bringing him into a comforting embrace he didn’t deserve. His digits curled a little more around you.

“You don’t have to forgive me,” said he, looking away.

“I know,” you said, “But I want to.”

Drift choked back a sob.

“I don’t deserve it, little one.”

“…I think you do.”

“No… I really don’t.”

“That isn’t for you to decide.”

He smiled sourly as he closed his optics, fighting the sensation of allowing them to leak. Your warm, tiny little hand reached out and touched his face plate, stroking along his cheek, and he opened his optics to look at you, your cheek resting against his little digit.

“Little one…”

“It’s okay, Drift,” you said, offering him a small smile. “We’ll figure it out; together.”

The sob wasn’t so easy to hold back the second time, though as he held you closer and you laid your forehead against his own, he allowed himself to weep freely for he knew you wouldn’t judge, knew it because you, too, were crying; for yourself and the situation you’d been forced into, and for him and his aching loneliness only your presence had been able to soothe.

Part 1

[aeternus-art]

Some Random Tips and Ponderings With a Seasoned Shifter

with additional commentary on states of being

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ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚

Hello! I’m a shifter and manifestor, and I wanted to compile some tips that I’ve been echoing in the comments here and there, as well as some recent solidifications in my understanding.

I’m not new to tumblr, or the shifting reddit ((you can find mine here) I answer commented questions on there in-depth, its worth checking out pinky swear), but I am new to Shiftblr. I’ve heard that the community here is lovely, so I thought I’d give it a shot.

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My attempts to put my experiences into words over the years comprise predominantly of Law of Assumption and some other aspects of spiritual practices. While this is the best way for me, it may not be the best way for you and that’s totally fine! As always, take what you like and leave the rest. I’ll be happy to explain or expand on concepts in the comments. :)

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⋆｡˚ ☁︎ ˚⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆

｡𖦹°⭒. ˚ ｡. ˚ ☁︎

ׂ 𓈒 ⋆ ۪𓍊𓋼𓆏𓋼𓍊 𓈒 ⋆

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1.There is no separation between you and your dr self, in the same sense that all matter is made up of energy and energy is everywhere touching everything.

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2. If you like imagining physical things and don’t have any ideas for a scene to familiarize yourself with your dr body, you could pick a song (that could have emotional significance to your dr self)and an instrument, and then imagine how that instrument feels under your fingers, the clothes on your body, where are you sitting, what does the temperature feel like, how does the song make your dr self feel and why, etc etc.

2a. By doing an activity in your imaginings, you don’t have to have sole hyper focus on just being in your body, it’s a little more chill. I have adhd, so i find the more stimulus, the better sometimes.

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3. If you struggle with imagining physical things, you could make a personal dr self playlist. I’m talkin manually pick out all the songs and build a playlist yourself. Music is energy and waves, and it can be an immensely helpful tool in allowing yourself to occupy your dr self

3a. I bring this up because later on I talk about afternoon/mid-morning imaginings. I find that by repeating dr self events while having an attatched playlist to the state, it becomes much easier to enter a kind of flow state where everything comes more naturally as opposed to manually thinking thoughts.

This goes off of the ladder experiment from neville goddard. something glossed over with goddard is that feeling is not emotion. Feeling is sensation. a more general, expansive version of a feeling is a state. A state, i.e. state of being, is a state that you can occupy as you are, at your source, pure conscious. Think kind of like the different eras of your current life and the “vibe”.

Once you figure out how to occupy this state (through any method/means that work for you) until it feels normal, you’re basically in your dr.

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4. “You’re already your dr self. You’re already in your dr.” -Okay so yes, but let’s talk about it because I see this tripping some people up.

Shifting is occupying one state that comes with one reality, and then adjusting your perspective and imaginings to your dr self’s state, with the intention that your drs physical 3d reality will express itself. In order to do this, you occupy your dr self’s state, and it can be very difficult if you are currently occupying a state to the point where it feels like an extremely heavy coat.

4a. I once talked about this back when I posted on here. You are not your physical body. As Marina said, “I am not my body, not my mind or my brain Not my thoughts or feelings, I am not my DNA I am the observer, I’m a witness of life I live in the space between the stars and the sky” You are not your emotions. This is why you can shift while feeling a whole slew of emotions. You are energy, ever flowing, and forever connected to everything else in the conceivable multi-universe. Your emotions come from your physical 3d body which is just another reflection, ever-changeable

A single tiny star can cause ripples across our entire universe. This isn’t just a spiritual concept. I just like to think that spirituality/the exploration of the multiverse is ahead of its science. Magic is just science that hasn’t caught up yet, imo.

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*5. Remember when doing your attempt- you’re shifting to be the person, not the place. Occupy the state of your dr self, and then experience your dr (in imagination/4d) through the lense of your dr self. That is what shifting is. You’re shifting the state you occupy (in your 4d/imagination), and the outer world shifts alongside you

If you struggle to get into a flow state (thoughts and feelings and imaginings coming naturally) with your state of being, it can sometimes be like an old truck that won’t start unless you manually give it a push. ponder on the life of your dr self and take into account the lenses you are looking through. How have their life experiences changed their view, perspectives, beliefs, etc. you can ask yourself questions and then answer them interview style. It may take a couple of times before you are familiar with yourself to just have the thoughts come naturally.

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6. If you feel like you are chasing after your dr self/dr, like karate kid learning how to catch the chicken, it may be of use to take a couple minutes to reorient yourself. Take some deep breaths. you’re okay. You’re gonna be just fine. It’s chill, and if it’s not chill, you’ve gotten through all your toughest battles up unto this point.

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7. Meditation/mindfulness/learning to be here now/grounding is worth investing in. It will do you good in any lifetime. You don’t have to sit still to do it. You don’t have to clear your mind. The mind being clear is an effect of the practice, not something to try and actively go.

7a. If I could summarize how to practice being present in an extremely short way, it would be that the past has spent its time with you already and the future will soon- let yourself just exist in the here and now. Start with feeling your fingertips and work your way up, and try to really feel the surface you’re on,

7b. If you like doing this, you can do this with your cr self and once you’re relaxed, do it in your imagination as your dr self. Look the scene until you’ve felt your dr in your imagination to the best of your ability go with the flow. Don’t like something you started with? Okay, change it. This process doesn’t need to be super uber serious. let yourself lighten the load. Let it go.

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8. An analogy for letting go because I see this tripping some people up too: If I want to pick up a ball, but I am currently holding another, I must first let go of the ball I am holding. If you (your consciousness) wants to hold a different state of being (and thus a different reality), it becomes infinitely easier for some people to have a bridge in between this reality and the next. You can make bridges with lots of things, such as the void state, mind awake body asleep, lucid dreams, etc.

When talking “letting go” “ I think it’s important to note that all you have to do is turn your attention away from the state of being you don’t want to be and become indifferent to it. You don’t have to fight it or react, just simply choose a response that comes from a place of knowing that you’re good, and everything’s chill.

You can also think of it like your mental state being a boat on a body of water and you’re only job is to relax and occupy your chosen state. When you occupy this state, you give the motor power to take you to the right shore. The boat already has its course set out, all you have to do is keep powering the motor.

"The time it takes for your desire to manifest is directly proportional to the naturalness of your desire.” - Neville Goddard. How do you make it natural? You repeat and continue to occupy the state with a brazen impudence.

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9. I personally use midday meditations/naps to imagine being in my dr, and then I’ll shift at night. I find it’s easier to be in creation mode during the day when I have energy to spare and then shift at night, when all I have to do is vibe as my dr self.

sometimes my afternoon imaginings turn into shifts- which can actually be a little frustrating when i have a new dr or one that i want to make changes to.

If I can’t sit down in the afternoon/mid-morning to do my ~imaginings~, I’ll just do it with my eyes open- sometimes it’s even easier depending on if I’m doing/what type of activity is being done. I like to try to occupy the state throughout the day- I use bathroom breaks because they’re already alloyed into the day.

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10. I am an utter sucker for pinterest (if you hate ads, tap on the three dots, tap hide, and then this doesnt pertain to me. do this to like 20ish and then the ads should stop for a week or two.

I think that pinterest boards allow you to really capture something reflective of the state of being of your dr self. I like to look through my board and listen to music during my afternoon “creation sessions” before a shift, and then once again before the shift itself.

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11. Detaching is just letting go in a different font, but with a little extra step. Detaching for me is detaching from the outcome- I use this in manifestation as well. Remember that your reality comes from you, it doesn’t happen to you.

By occupying the state of your dr self, your 3d reality will shift on. it’s. own. in direct reflection of you. detaching is just understanding this and not panicking when it seems like it’s not working.

When you are occupying the state of your dr self, you don’t need to worry about getting to your dr. In the same breath, if nothing has seemed like it’s worked up unto this point- try assessing from a different angle. Okay so maybe you HAVE tried literally everything and have for years. Alright. LOA would say something about your state is preventing you. Only you can go inside and figure it out. Acceptance of circumstances is the first step to change. You can’t change something you won’t look at.

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For me, my inability to succeed was due in-part to holding onto my dr like a lifeline, rather than just a place I visit. I was unable to occupy my dr self state, because in this reality I was forcing and pushing the process. I didn’t understand that when you want to change the reflection, you must first change yourself

I’ve found that multiple times throughout this journey, I come to the same answers, but I had to shift my perspective first to see, understand, and experience why it was the right one.

I know i’ve successfully shifted my perspective when the way i naturally approach and view things has changed.

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edit: one last little thing. a weird metaphor/analogy for my shifting process. I have a bowl that I fill with little pebbles I find (4d dr imaginings of feelings, thoughts, memories, pieces of the state). once this bowl is full to my liking, I can transform the bowl into a bag and carry it around with me (occupying the state) wherever I go, I no longer have to manually hold it. now, my only job is to just keep walking the path with my backpack (my state) until I reach my destination

edit2: a side note but i feel when applying and practicing these things, a might consistency with the practice is a good perspective. you're not forcing, and there's no rush, so you need only lightly hold your dr self

ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚

Alrighty! That’s all for now!! As i said above, let me know if you have questions, and happy shifting!!

[snailsgoingdowntown]

Help, I Reincarnated as the Female Lead's Sister-in-Law!

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Chapter 13

‘Slight’ Yandere! Dion Agriche x Fem! Reader

Arranged marriage AU

Interact with this post to be on tag list. The DNI is on it so read that before anything.

NOTE: I gave up on looking for computer error codes (I do not understand what they stand for in full detail, I’m just a silly little guy), so sorry if I used the wrong one.

Warnings: toxic marriage/relationship general yandere themes, obsessive and possessive themes/possible actions/behavior, blood, blood drinking (kinda? Not really, but JUST in case), blood, self-harm (biting thumb hard enough that it’s implies the wound reopened), violence (kicking Dion in the chest), thoughts of violence (thinking of kicking Dion’s face), vomit, panic attack, mention of suicide but Reader is NOT suicidal, one or two suggestive lines, kinda implied future violence (not towards Reader OR her family for plot reasons), mention of the Reader becoming a 'doll'.Please tell me if I missed any.

Reader is NOT having a good time as usual. Pray for her. 

DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT CONDONE ANY OF THE HARMFUL AND/OR DANGEROUS ACTIONS THAT MAY TAKE PLACE IN THIS PIECE OF FICTION. THESE ACTIONS AND/OR BEHAVIORS SHOULD NOT BE NORMALIZED NOR ROMANIZED AS THEY ARE BOTH EXTREMELY DANGEROUS AND TOXIC.

MINORS/BLANK BLOGS/BLOGS THAT DO NOT INTERACT WITH FANDOM RELATED THINGS (REBLOG/COMMENT ON FICS/ART, ETC.) DNI.

= = =

You ruined your own life.

That is the conclusion you come to when you wake up with an awful hangover, head throbbing, mouth dry, nausea kicking at your stomach and mouth, entire body aching, fatigued and dizzy. 

Dry heaving as an unknown hand holds your hair back, stationed right at home in front of the all too fancy trash can, puking your guts out, hot tears rolling down your face as you have the worst morning ever. Worse than your first night, because hey, at least you weren’t on the verge of fainting, a cold sweat drowning your body, throat burning from the acid in your vomit. Too busied with vomiting, you barely register a hand gently patting your back, mind elsewhere. 

Why did I fucking drink so fucking much?

The answer is simple - you wanted a distraction before you could become a hysterical mess during the dinner last night. Still, regret is a thing, and oh boy, are you feeling it in full.

Retching, your lungs painfully take in air, upset stomach getting in the way. Sweat dribbles down your temples and face, eyes wide as your body rejects everything from last night. Your entire body trembles as a hammer painfully smashes your skull into tiny pieces. Hands clammy, you almost start to think that having a panic attack would be better than this. 

“Urk! F-fuck…,” wiping away some of the vomit that clung to your chin, your body allows you to have a moment of recovery, muscles relaxing as you pant, lungs finally taking in the air that you desperately need. Heavy eyes struggle to stay open, a small dizzy spell falling over you, headache still there. Tears stop rolling down your face as your breathing becomes steady. Everything still awfully aches, though.

Finally becoming aware of your surroundings, you notice a gentle pat against your back as someone also holds your hair back. So gentle and comforting, and automatically assuming it’s Hana, you accept the help without a word of complaint. 

Well, that is until cold shivers run down your spine, as a oh so familiar low and sleepy voice speaks, only now noticing how large the hand that was patting your back was. 

“Better?” 

Freaking out was an understatement. 

Violently scampering away, definitely not missing the touch of Dion Agriche, a terrified and horrified expression paints your face, heart running and beating fast enough it could win first place at a race. Nausea fills your entire being, but for a completely different reason now. 

A worse reason. 

Opening your mouth, words fail to leave your dry lips. You lick them, mind racing on what to say and do. In the end you spewed out nonsense that doesn’t even make sense to you.

“O-oh, u-um, Arigche, good - fuck - good day? Weather?” 

The slight twitch of his dead tired eye doesn’t help your anxiety. Had you offended him? If so, how - because he witnessed an unsightly sight? One that he decided to stay for?

Quick pants and shaky legs, you search and search and search for any type of exit - failing to remember that the heavy double doors were literally right behind you. No, instead you eye the terrace behind him and consider jumping off. 

How quick can you run? Would he stop you? No, rather would he get the wrong impression and think you were trying to commit suicide?

What then? Hand you over to his mental father or mother to use as a bloody toy? Burn your face and stitch up wounds that they created? 

“S-sorry, but -,” scooting away until your back hits something sturdy and hard, the only thing you’re capable of is stare at your arranged husband like a deer in headlights. He doesn’t crawl closer, still kneeling, an unreadable expression across his facial features. Almost like he was keeping his distance on purpose, as to not scare you away like a scared animal.

And maybe to him, you are. 

“I - I, um, didn’t mean to make a mess -” On the verge of crying from stress, you blink rapidly, unable to decide if you should look at him or close your eyes. Tears kept at bay, by reflex you bring your thumb up and -

Chomp

It hurts more than usual. Feels more raw, tongue swiping over the healing bite mark, crimson blood that resembles his eyes drawn as the taste of iron all but makes itself at home on your tastebuds. Hysterical, you cower, hoping, praying that Dion would look the other way and ignore you.

He does anything but. 

Standing only to walk over to you, kneeling once more as his larger and longer fingers force your thumb out and proceed to wrap around your wrist right after. You hiccup as he stares at it, unable to tell what he’s thinking. Maybe it’s better if you don’t.

“That’s a horrible habit you have there,” he states like it’s the morning news before he, like the crazy man he is, takes the injured digit into his mouth.

You’re too flabbergasted to react. 

Your brain fries, error code 43. 

It doesn’t reboot until moments later when his disgusting and slimy tongue runs over the wound, his saliva unfortunately soothing it just the slightest bit.

The urge to puke returns.

You jerk your hand back and he lets you. You think your expression is one of disgust, but it’s hard to tell when Dion blinks oh so calmly. Like he didn’t just shove your thumb into his mouth like the pervert he is.

But fear overrides the disgust, helplessly watching as your horrible husband comes even closer. You feel trapped between the wall - doors, actually - and his towering, intimidating figure. Without a care in the world, he wordlessly places a hand on the door slightly above your head.

You can’t fight back when he oh so gently grabs your right wrist again, inspecting your bloodied thumb. You become boneless as he licks it, all the while keeping eye contact with you.

The shivers that run down your back aren’t pleasurable. 

“You should stop this,” he says as his head tilts, like he was curious about your reaction to everything. “You’re just making it worse.”

His genuine concern sounds like nothing but threats to you. Your flight-or-fight response kicks in when the hand planted against the wall - doors - goes to  your cold and sweaty cheek. As any sane person would, you kick him straight in the chest.

And somehow, someway, it hurts you more than him. It almost feels like a brick wall, wincing while he only fucking blinks. As if finally understanding the situation, he lets go and backs off, but still in front of you. You’re on the verge of throwing up, of running past him to jump off the terrace, laughing as a fear response.

The only reason you don’t do any of it is because your body is boneless, barely able to breathe. Barely able to think. 

Neither of you talk nor move, the distant sound of footsteps and chirping birds filling the silence. He’s treating you like a scared animal while you’re treating him like a predator. Two people unable to understand the actions of the other. Two people on the opposite sides of the spectrum, their definitions of ‘loving’ completely different.

Regardless, he still tries, and maybe if you were into the possessive and obsessive type, you would have praised him. Assuming you notice and realize he didn’t plan on hurting you and was in ‘love’ with you, of course.

“D-D-Dion.” You stutter after slightly recovering from the fright, the throbbing of your thumb forgotten in the background. You can’t feel anything, really, even the cold tiles you sit on.

“Wife.” His response does little to soothe your nerves - no, rather, they freeze at his voice. 

“W-what… were you doing? I think-think I’m still half asleep, haha…” Nervously forcing out a small laugh, you truly hope that this is nothing more than a nightmare. You’d rather wake up to the sound of loud and annoying construction going on outside your apartment.

Ah, but, you weren’t in your old world, were you? Not that you could be, not when -

“Soothing it.”

“O-oh… um, you do realize you essentially drank my blood…?” It’s a miracle you’re holding a conversation without fainting. Still, the idea of jumping off the terrace doesn’t leave your head. It was a reckless plan, but there was a chance you wouldn’t die or break something, and at least would get a minute or two to yourself without him. If you weren’t caught by the guards immediately afterwards, that is. 

“And?” His head tilts, observing your reactions, like you were a science project. Scarlet eyes leave your terrified face to travel to your right thumb. A very, very small part of you want to bite it again, to bite it harder out of spite. The thought leaves when he makes eye contact with you again. 

You look away.

“That’s-that’s really unhygienic…” A whisper is all you can manage, eyes swirling as a dizzy spell falls over you again. How are you able to talk to this perverted brute?

Maybe you were only able to talk to smooth out the situation as much as you could. Or maybe your mouth was just running on its own, hoping this is what he wanted. Why else would he do such a thing? Aside from satisfying his sadistic and perverted urges, that is. 

All you want is to go home.

“So?” His head tilts, jet black hair falling into his scarlet eyes, like he expected you to accept his ‘treatment’ to at least some degree.

“I-I mean, it’s rather-rather��disgusting, is it not?” Holding your right hand close to your chest, left one wrapped around your wrist, you hold your breath. You can’t think straight, unable to decide on staying or running away. To keep talking or go silent as a mouse. 

He blinks before saying, “Not if it’s you.” 

Error code 43. 

Error code 43.

Request for maintenance. 

Maintenance needed to continue functions. 

Ever so slightly, a grin tugs at his lips at your flabbergasted expression. Little do you know that your husband doesn’t like seeing you scared, but he enjoys making you speechless, mind blank. Now, if only he could do that to you in other ways…

No. This isn’t the time to think about such things, he mentally scolds himself. Truly out of character for him to even think about such a thing.

“Is that so hard to believe?” He questions after a bit, once your mind is working again.

“H-huh? Wait - this - don’t play with me, please…,” you beg while shaking your head. Your breathing speeds up again, heavier than it was moments ago. Your feet firmly plant themselves flat on the floor. 

You think about kicking his face this time, giving you some time to run before the shock wears off. 

“I’m not,” carefully and slowly, he leans in closer, gently holding the back of your neck like it’s his favorite thing to do. He pulls you closer and closer until he’s able to whisper in your ear, hot breath hitting it. He whispers -

“I mean it, really. You should stop assuming I’ll eventually throw you away.”

If the circumstances were different, if this was a healthy marriage, if this was a loving marriage, it would have been romantic. But because you’re married into the Agriche family, because your husband is Dion Agriche, it sounds like he’s trapping you in a cage, throwing away the key.

And in a way, he is, not wanting to let his pretty, lovely wife to part ways with him. 

Really, he’s not sure of how much longer he can keep himself in check - you drive him crazy and you don’t even know it. An obsessive and possessive husband with a scared wife, who will  one day, realize she has him tied around her pretty little finger. At the cost of her own loose collar in his hand, two people unable to escape the other. 

It’s awful, it’s insane, but who could blame him?

You’re just too lovely to pass and give up.

May God bless the poor soul who’s stupid enough to try.

It’s funny, really - the harder he tries to not drive you away, the more he does.

“You’re starting to hurt my feelings by doing so, (Name).”

  

Tag List: @tiny-mimi

[qoldenskies]

Just saw your post about enabler Raph and like yeah your totally right and so was the post below it, but like i couldn't see that and then just NOT think of ccverse like.................my brain is literally exploding thinking about them

ENABLER RAPH BUT ITS CC DONNIE LIKE AAAAHHHHHHHHHH like he (Raph) would be even worse, but on top of that, so would his entire family like,

ccverse family to donnie: here my sweet child have whatever you desire whatever you want, just say the word and it is yours, you could do no wrong, anything you desire under the sun is yours, just tell us

cc donnie: i want *insert anything that would cause him anguish and misery because he now believes he deserves it*

ccverse family: anything but that

every little donnie related thing just makes me go "how can i canary continuity this" these days so i COMPLETELY understand. and oh my god they are going to be such horrible enablers for him. this isnt only because of guilt and the soul-crushing trauma that came from hurting him, its also just because cc!donnie is the most polite considerate person ever, even if the REASONS come from such a horrible place. i honestly think he'd be that kind of charming to people who DONT have that kind of baggage with him, especially because he'll give a lot (maybe too much) and expect literally nothing back. ive also been completely certain that this is going to cause some overprotectiveness if he ever gets outside friends/a partner (although good chance they'll back off immediately if he actually expresses his boundaries, because they will ALWAYS part way for him if he asks for something unless it is obviously, overtly self-destructive.)

he's a really vulnerable person and he's lost the ability to cover that up with his old bite, and even once he starts to develop a more refined sense of humor again, its really hard to get genuine joy out of him, especially when he shies away when he's the center of attention and doesn't like surprises much. they want to hype him up SO bad all the time but that'll usually just freak him out LOL

and oh boy raph would be the absolute worst about it. like even as he's been shown in CW, its pointed out in the way that he thinks about donnie that he cares SOOOOO much about his approval. if raph thinks donnie is upset with him he will turn into a kicked puppy pretty much immediately and mope about it for like a week. raph will forever be too weak to say no to him.

honestly all of them have this in common, ESPECIALLY coming out of their fight with kitsune; the disparity between the way they act with donnie vs the way they act with people who might be a threat to him is so obvious that they almost look like different people. the dynamic between donnie and his brothers is a constant battle in an attempt to make their relationships with each other like 90/10 and somehow once things calm down that SOMEHOW makes it 50/50, its VERY funny to me. i love when concerning dysfunction combined somehow makes things level out and work somehow

[v-whitenoise]

He felt it. The fact that he was returning the gesture he'd made on an impulse. As though that simple touch would be enough to prove that he didn't care about whatever was wrong with him. And the reality was, he didn't care. He didn't care if he was messed up. Obviously something had to have been broken for him to wind up killing 61 people, right? Alex had been quiet and reserved from day one, Vox taking the time to inquire to him on his well being. Getting to know him. They all had their secrets. Even Vox had his secrets. And he wasn't a saint either. He'd brainwashed people for his own benefit and had zero remorse for it. But when he felt him return that kiss, Vox slid his hands up along his back, his palms pressing against it. Flat, so he could bring the other demon close enough that their chests pressed to one another. His kiss becoming more heartfelt as he poured his feelings into where their mouths had connected. He kissed him as though it might be the last time he ever got the chance to do it. And maybe he was a little fearful that this might be his only chance. He was right here after all, within his grasps. For the first time in a very long time. It could hurt him later for it, imprinting this moment into his memory. Their exchange of words just another reason for his heart to ache while his love and resentment fought for dominance over how he felt towards him. If this were to be the only chance he got to feel this though, he wanted to make it count. Offering to him a loving, meaningful kiss as opposed to one based on pure desire or rage.

When he finally pulled back from him, it was slow - if only a little reluctant. He didn't want it to end, but he felt pushing it further might blur the lines of his intent. As badly as he wanted to take it further, he would have some self control for the time being. Although just with the kiss broken, he didn't yet release him from the tight embrace he had pulled him into. The expression on Vox's display had softened for the first time since they had started this discussion. Lacking any frustration or rage for the moment. He looked onto the Radio Demon with nothing but admiration. The way he used to look at him before their fight seven years ago. Before he'd broken his heart a second time. "I belong here in Hell, too. Maybe I didn't kill anyone - but I'm sure I ruined enough lives that I might as well have." He felt like he was trying to convince him that whatever they could have, was okay. In a way, he was. Because now that there was some clarity, there wasn't a reason that they couldn't -- right? It felt like it did seven years ago... question was, would his heart be broken a third time? Why did he keep doing this to himself? Oh right. Because he couldn't help himself. He loved him still so much despite all the bullshit. Despite how badly he had hurt him and the effect that he had on him just by being around. Vox loved him so much that he had become absolutely obsessed with him. Everything he did. That hatred that burned through him, all of it was just because he was angry he couldn't have the only thing he ever wanted. Yet again, here he stood laying his heart on the line for him. Giving him another chance and wanting to offer him a place with him. Love, desperation... obsession. He couldn't stop until he had him. Didn't that mean that something was wrong with him, as well? "Self perseveration? Sure, I do. But the truth of the fact is--I'd turn all of Hell upside down to have this. Don't YOU understand? I built an entire empire just so I could prove something to YOU." His brows furrowed just a little bit. "I did this--all of this, because of you. Because you're everything to me." Love and Obsession. He'd done it out of both.

He was sorry? After all these years... after Vox had laid out all his cards on the table. He was sorry? That seemed just as bitter to him as the fact that he had admitted to reciprocating his feelings. He didn't want an apology, not entirely. While the actions of their past had indeed broken his heart time and again, it hadn't changed the way he felt. As though it were all to in spite of him. Maybe this was some sort of fate linked thing. But was it that they were fated to just keep having this dance? Always caring and loving one another but remaining at arms length. For what? His protection?

"Save it. I don't need an apology. Just as much as I don't need protecting. We're in Hell now. Haha, I mean, just look at everything I've built!" He'd moved his hand from his face to lift it. Gesturing to the blackened out monitors around them.

Vox had built all of this and even his previous life on the back of his own heartbreak. In life, he had a following. A cult that likely could have expanded with his leadership if he hadn't had met his untimely end. Now, here in Hell, he had created an entire entertainment network and practically taken over the media. Everything except for the airwaves. Which had always annoyingly belonged to Alastor. A territory he had been barred from. And by the sounds of it, would continue to be so. Which seemed all the more ironic to him. All the more frustrating. Which part of this wasn't he getting? Stubborn deer. His self-righteousness in feeling like he needed to save and protect Vox, even now was more annoying to him than the fact that they had known each other this whole time without realizing it.

And he didn't feel like dealing with it anymore. Hadn't he waited a lifetime to hear him say that he loved him? "You know what-- fuck this." Vox muttered his gaze shifting back to Alastor.

He moved both hands now to cup on either side of his face. His palms gently pressed to his cheeks while he closed the last few inches of distance between them. Bringing his screen close enough to the other sinner until it was flush against his face. All so he could connect his mouth to his. Despite being seemingly digital on a display of his flat screen of a face, the touch was very solid. Proving that his TV head was, in some ways, organic as the rest of him. Vox's kiss started out soft, gentle, and maybe even a little hesitant. It was the first they had ever shared after all. And while he was desperate to feel this touch and had yearned for it since before his death- he was still gentle. As though it might have the other shy away from him.

Gradually, though, he eased into a touch with a little more confidence. His hands moved from his face, only so he could tug the radio demon closer to himself, tightening the embrace. His heart was left both pounding and aching in his chest. Uncertain how Alastor might respond to this impulsive act. Vox clearly not interested in keeping things where they were now that they had a better understanding of one another. And willing to let go of that grudge he had been holding towards him, if only to be allowed a moment like this. It wasn't protection he wanted - it was him.

[oobbbear]

People would say “oh you would look so pretty in make up” and think that’s a compliment

[mossy-aro]

ultimately i think my insistence on aro positivity honestly is as much a political stance as a personal one.

when i say aro positivity is crucial and that i dislike doomer-ist posts that express sentiments like 'I hate being aro so much I wish I was dead instead’ it's not because I don’t think there can and should be a space for negativity and acknowledging self-hate, or the many ways being aromantic can really suck sometimes. i find that to be very important!

that being said. there is smth here about how self-hate posts are sometimes just arophobia that we inflict on ourselves. and when we put that out into the ether it (intentionally or not) can become arophobia that we inflict on other members of the community. i think there absolutely needs to be a place for negativity and the expression of anger and frustration and self loathing even - these are all good things to talk about because these are things that we experience. that being said, it can also be genuinely upsetting and triggering to people to have what is essentially arophobia shown to them and then have that be validated by other aspec people. your personal thoughts can affect your wider community on a level you may not anticipate. and i understand it i truly do! it took me so long to be able to recover from accepting being aroace - it threw my entire world off kilter and made me question everything about my place in the world.

but my insistence on aro joy and positivity is because ultimately i do believe that building is at the core essence of it all. that ultimately discussions and the purpose of community should be about construction, not destruction. and this is both a personal and a political stance. talking about how much you hate yourself and cultivating online discussions/spaces where negativity about aspec identity is the main and only theme is destructive - if that’s where we let the conversation end. these thoughts can and should be used as a vehicle to look for a path forward!

joy and positivity create a space where the focus can become on forging a path forward, on construction, on community building instead of tearing ourselves and others down with negative thoughts. it’s not productive or healthy when it stops at a place of negativity - it becomes actively destructive to the essence of community.

and i do think that this is especially poignant considering the fact that being any kind of queer, but especially aromantic (and/or asexual) means forging a path for yourself and making your own happiness where there is no obvious way forward. our communities exist mostly online (right now, anyway), there is little recognition of our existence in the real world, the effects of amatonormativity are both pervasive and actively dehumanising, and there are legal, economic and social structures in place actively making our lives more difficult. yes that all sucks! it’s good to acknowledge that. we need to in order to change it. but more importantly, that’s not the end. we are still here and our happiness, our future is for us to determine. even if we can’t change the laws or society, loving yourself and understanding aromanticism as a political identity (as well as personal), as a radical worldview, and as a protest against amatonormativity is essential for both community and personal well being. the personal is political.

tldr. i guess my point is that as a community, we should focus on building, improving, and nurturing ourselves and each other (construction) as opposed to destruction. we should recognise aromanticism and asexuality as political identities as well as personal ones and rely on community and self-love in the absence of anything else as a form of protest and political power. destruction (the recognition of everything that is wrong) is essential as a starting point - but where do we go from there? we rebuild.