#it’s not even claustrophobic in here it’s very comfy!! | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

kadavernagh · 30 days

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TIMING: Current LOCATION: Just Couches PARTIES: Regan and Jade SUMMARY: What comes first, the couch or the home? Jade says couch! So she and Regan are off to find the perfect one, which will be without a single weird feature.

The Kavanaghs had a couch. It was covered in dark brown leather, the kind that sucked your skin in when you sat on it wearing shorts. Regan used to like the feel of it against her arms and legs, though in hindsight, maybe there was a little death there, too. Sometimes she plopped herself across the whole couch when Al came into the living room, forcing him onto the armrest if he wanted to sit at all. She watched late-night unpermitted horror movies with Liam that her dad would have hated, had he known. Reilly once sat her down there to discuss how their parents had started sniping at each other more frequently (a rough patch that was mended, but had all four of them wondering about a particular d-word for a few months; Al said authoritatively that it was her fault). Couches see a lot. And they had a couch.

Then Regan had a couch. She couldn’t remember the color and material. She couldn’t even remember where she purchased it. Only that… well, she must have, right? In that old Baltimore apartment she also barely recalled, all of it awash in medical text memorization and memories of her hands inside of cadavers – though most of that was gone, too. It would have traveled back to Augusta, that theoretical couch, in that moving truck she must have rented, that had been filled with possessions she must have kept. Regan must have had a couch. And then she forgot what they were for about eight years, because comfort, her grandmother often reminded her, could not taint her capabilities. An instrument sliced through fabric; to be disarmed by such distraction as comfort would cost control; Cliodhna’s hanging rabbits spilled their coiled innards on the floor.

“I don’t trust it.” Regan said, appraising a bright orange couch coated in velvet, one of far too many options crammed into a claustrophobic store. Her grandmother’s similarly-colored wings flashed a warning in her mind. She walked around it in a half-circle like it was a crime scene, not even considering sitting. She had warmed up to the idea of being a couch owner, but primarily for Jade’s benefit, because they had a yet-to-be-determined house that would “require” furnishing. (And maybe they should have reassessed that order of business, but it wouldn’t be Jade’s beautiful but non-euclidean mind to do that, and Regan was… distracted.) She did not have to like the couches. That would be asking too much. “Velvet is difficult to clean, don’t you think? And the color… I cannot even think of a fluid found in the human body that’s comparable in hue. It won’t do. It is not even fit for Emilio.” She had bought a better couch for him. Jade needed something one hundred times better than that.

Regan finished circling around the couch and ended up right next to Jade again, where the thought of couches didn’t bother her quite as much. She tapped Jade’s hand lightly before stealing it for herself. “Come on, there has to be something here you would rather sit on. Where is the stone section? Or… I will compromise. I am famously good at that. We could get something wooden. Cats like wood, right? For scratching?”

—

Truth be told, Jade had never put that much thought into couches before (a true shocker there, right?). So like, as long as they were comfy, that was it, she was set. And sometimes not even that! Who was she kidding? Cause Jade had spent a decent amount of time on Emilio’s couch, so her standards could mean anything, actually. Couch used to be whatever. But the past didn’t matter, anyway. The present mattered. As did the future. Her future, their future. Cause she was so excited to pick her very first couch. Like a real true adult. Nah, a real true adult in a committed relationship. It was a lot, which was probably the reason why her entire body seemed to be buzzing like she’d drank five shots of espresso. Or well, she imagined that’s what it felt like. (She never needed caffeine to be that energized, people envied her). Seeing the Just Couches logo as they entered the store filled her with an extra dose of warm and fuzzy feelings. This chain had kinda become a staple in their relationship, right? Cause she would always remember her first date with Regan at Just Coffee. (And the mint julep she had after in the place next door, Just Cocktails). And now their first couch would be Just too.

They hadn’t walked around for two minutes when Regan found their first option. Sorta. They just stumbled upon it, so it was time to judge it. And judge they did. “Oh? How come, baby?” Jade prompted after the initial assessment on the bright orange sofa. Regan inspected the thing like she was choosing her torture device instead of the sweet spot where they would have their most entertaining movie nights. But knowing the why behind that stiff gait and those shifty eyes meant Jade didn’t treat it as an obstacle. It might look silly to outsiders, but she knew this was important. It was a bit of a milestone for Regan too. And she would not stand (or well, sit) for any couch that Regan couldn’t at least relate to some type of bodily fluid. That was just, pft… entry level. So Jade would totally commiserate with her on this. “Was it mean mugging you? I swear, I totally saw it do that when we came in. I like the color, but it needs a better attitude.” Regan was right though, velvet was difficult to clean, and they both knew she was a little sloppy with her food sometimes. So, that was like, just inviting mess. And not the fun kind. She followed Regan without a rebuttal when she decided to move on, cause they were on the same page. (Or, well, the endgame was the same… despite their different ways of looking at it, so, same thing).

Jade squeezed Regan’s hand as she grabbed it, the action tugging a smug smile on her lips. One that turned into something sweet as she beamed at the other couple making the rounds. They looked like their names would be Doris and Bob. Yup, Doris and Bob. And they were a few years into retirement, looking for a couch for their third house on the beach so their grandkids could stain it with chocolate ice cream when they came over. Doris and Bob probably wouldn’t have it any other way. Daydreaming about a similar future, Jade played with Regan’s fingers, pushing on the pads lightly, like they were the keys to her sister’s old Casio keyboard, the one she’d lock away so Jade couldn't get her sticky hands on it. (Joke’s on her, cause Jasper knew where she hid it).

And, did Regan really just ask her about what she’d rather sit on? She quickly glanced down at her shoes, biting down the dozens of dirty jokes rushing to come out. She cleared her throat. “Oh, there is,” said softly, cause Bob and Doris did not need to hear about Jade’s sitting preferences. She could spare them. Cause even if the innuendo flew right over Regan’s head, she’d show her later anyway. “Yup, I love it when you compromise…” Where was Regan going with this? Oh. Nowhere bad, actually. “The frame can be wood or stone, that sounds super cute. Except you were so not thinking about the frame though, were you?” she gave Regan a skeptical look. The cats were something Jade was taking into account for sure, though. “Back in the apartment, we put scratching posts and pads everywhere so they wouldn’t care about the couch. It mostly worked.. but maybe we can get some covers too?” Cause, she loved her children like the most devoted mother would (at least she thought that was what mothers did), but this was obviously like, an investment for the future, she didn’t want it to be ruined in the first week. She didn’t want Regan to think that she wasn’t two hundred percent invested in this.

“I really like…” she drew the L shape in the air, then nodded to the sectional couch they were approaching. She leaned in and pressed her cheek against Regan’s shoulder, closing her eyes when she felt her scent drifting. She was a little weak in the knees. Regan’s neck was truly a menace to society, no wonder she kept it covered a lot of the time. “It just feels like the prime snuggling couch, don’t you think? For purposeful holding only. All the extra space. And the nice armrest,” she sighed, staring at the gray… what was it, linen? The color was kinda eh. Or like, really eh. Which reminded her, she should probably let her non-negotiables be known. “I insist on soft fluffy cushions, think of the glutes, babe. I can compromise on material and color and shape, but like… what kinda bisexuals are we if we don’t pick a green one?”

—

“There was no mugging,” Regan reassured Jade, though she didn’t really understand the question, “couches are not known for committing crimes, but the… leisurely attitude they encourage could be considered an unofficial one.” Jade’s voice had jabbed her with playful concern, and it was sinking in that it had been a joke of some kind. It still eluded Regan. She chalked it up as a Jade-ism she would need to conduct further research on so she could add it to her ongoing dictionary. “Well… I guess spare change ends up between the cushions, doesn’t it? Mugging.” Maybe that was what Jade meant. But probably not. Her bone partner seemed to have her eyes elsewhere as she teased her fingers (which was unheard of, actually, her looking at anyone else, so it must have been important). Regan followed Jade’s line of sight to an older couple. She made a mental note to keep her distance in case one or both of them were close to death. When her eyes flicked back to Jade, she still seemed caught up in her thoughts. Something light bubbled in Regan’s chest (indigestion?) as she guessed what was going on. And Jade was right for thinking it: that lady did look a little like the dead squirrel from the night they met over ulcers, stiff and grey. “I know,” Regan said quietly but fondly, Jade’s attention re-tangling itself up in her veins and arteries. “I see it, too.”

Regan was not superstitious; for most of her life, she couldn’t have been any further from it. She always thought that way of thinking was for the weak-minded humans, even though she had come to doubt that anyone had true autonomy – it was better to simply call it Fate and accept that it did not show its cards in the shapes of clouds or constellations at night. But Regan did listen to death. And if that older woman reminded her of the most important dead squirrel in their relationship, then it meant something. It was a reminder of how far they had come, wasn’t it? So Regan tried to keep her mind partially open, which wasn’t nearly as interesting as having an open brain.

“The frame? No, I wasn’t talking about that. I meant instead of extraneous cushions. It would be nice and cool, wouldn’t it? You like that. Oh, and better for your posture than some… sack of feathers. Besides, how often would you be directly on the couch, anyway?” She might have known the answer to her earlier question about places to sit. Jade didn’t seem swayed. “I am attempting to compromise. We are getting a couch in the first place.” Her hardened expression didn’t last long, washed away by a simple raised brow and the soggy tide of Jade’s eyes. Of course there were things Jade wouldn’t budge on, either. And the sand always shifted under Regan’s feet when Jade asked something impossible of her (strange how it became less impossible when she slid enough to gain a new perspective).

The couch Jade seemed to like was oversized and she could imagine the pillows expelling down. Soft, fluffy cushions. Despite her best efforts, the thought put a scowl on Regan’s lips. She was trying to be human, and humans indisputably liked comfort (too much of it). But it was still hard to come face to face with such a deviation, to ask for it. Somehow different than ending up on Jade’s couch that she already owned, or purchasing one for Emilio that was far more self-indulgent than she would have ever allowed hersel– than she would have ever been allowed. But, again, a couch wasn’t only about her. And Jade’s gluteus maximus (and medius and minimus) deserved the world. “I do know your glutes… but… I mean, the cushions, if they aren’t made of stone, what if they’re too… and we should be disciplined, shouldn’t we? We’ll grow idle.” She hesitated. “I like green.” Her attempt to say she wasn’t so sure about this ended up being a rare mumble.

When Jade made up her mind, she made up her mind. And… when Jade made up her mind, Regan did, too, now. [insert whipped vanilla pic]

When she exhaled what remained of her willpower, Jade’s face felt heavy against her shoulder. Trading one for the other hadn’t left her with regrets so far. [insert whipped vanilla pic again]

“There is a lot of space there.” Regan glanced down at her shoulder, where Jade’s bright eyes looked up at her. They said this was important to her. How did she do that, speak so loudly with a look? Even when neither of them said a word, Jade was never silent. Regan exhaled again, and it became an obvious sigh. Her hand slid around Jade’s waist, and she tugged her closer in some vaguely hug-like gesture that obviously wasn’t a hug, because she didn’t do that (her ‘last night on earth’ hug at the hotel didn’t count). “Okay. We can find a sectional like that. But the cushions must be removable. That’s… practical, anyway.”

The store was a maze of couches, and while Jade might have been content bouncing from option to option, Regan needed a more organized approach. She scoped out the couch to the immediate right of the too-big one Jade had pointed out. A body could sink between the cushions and be preserved like it had been sucked inside a bog. They were huge and plush, so it met Jade’s specifications in that regard. It was also green – a muted pastel, not nearly saturated enough to be comparable to undigested bile. Remarkably, it might have fit the bill. For Jade, anyway. Which meant it fit Regan’s, too. She made an uneasy circle around this one as well, not trusting it. Her skin prickled like it was a familiar threat. “If only it were more cramped,” Regan mused, wondering if that was a concession Jade was willing to make when she thought about the end result of being cramped. Sometimes not being comfortable was better.

She alighted on the next couch. It was small, drab like a dead field mouse with only patches of its coat remaining, and it had a huge tag hanging off it (weirdly, it said the price was FREE?). Regan studied the whole couch first as if it could snap over her like a trap, and when she deemed it safe enough, she waved Jade over and checked out the tag. “Look, Jade, look at the tag. It lists the features. This one comes in a ‘suffocation’ model with an iron maiden mode.”

—

“Mmm. Phew! We don’t have to worry about the couches then,” Jade quipped after Regan explained that couches couldn’t be criminals. Her smile grew fond, smitten cause… why did she have the cutest girlfriend (er...bone partner, her bad) in the world? She won so hard, it was still like, wild to believe it. Their story grew more epic with time. Jade had lost her, then she came back, then they decided there was no point in being apart. And now they were buying a couch. Pacing around the store just like Bob and Doris (just in a sexier way). They were ready for the movie! (She didn’t think there were many options available to play her though). Anyway, it made her feel super validated to know she was right about them from the start. (The biggest kind of satisfaction). And like, sure a couch wasn’t much, but it was symbolic. It made the relationship feel serious. Which, obviously, it wasn't how she liked things to be. But when it came to Regan? She’d be the most serious person in the world. And to go back to the second cutest couple in Just Couches, Regan had also taken interest in them. Was she also thinking about the future? Did she envision buying more furniture with her? Did she think about all the fun they could have painting the walls baby blue? Or like, all the friends they were gonna host? It would be like, so many pounds of banana bread to feed the guests!

Regan’s eyes were sparkly as she spoke, and Jade thought all those cliches about getting lost in blue eyes like they were the ocean kinda came up short when Regan had that dreamy haze about her. I know. Her stomach fluttered, cause Regan said she saw it too, and… look, considering the recent mishaps in communication, there was a fair chance they were on like, totally different wavelengths. It could mean anything. But Regan’s gaze didn’t lie (it literally couldn’t since the moment they met), there was love swimming in it. And Jade drowned for a moment, not caring about whatever words were being exchanged. She squeezed Regan’s hand, resisting the urge to go full on PDA, cause… well, she didn’t care they were in public technically (and neither did Regan if her past record was any indication) (Like, the cemetery, really?), but maybe if they behaved now, they could misbehave later, in like, a more ideal situation.

And see, look at how serious she was taking couch buying! Cause there was going to be so much negotiation involved in getting the perfect one. And Jade wanted the perfect one, the 8.2/8 on the Bloodworth scale. If Just Couches wasn’t the one to provide it, then they’d go elsewhere. (She really hoped it didn’t come to that, though. The Just brand had never failed her before). Regan talked about frames and extraneous (?) cushions, while Jade looked up at her, batting her eyelashes. It was innocent, but she did like seeing Regan try to dictate her terms only for her convection to deflate by the virtue of some consistent eye contact. She finally broke it, letting Regan muster up some new resolve. In the meantime, she pressed a kiss to her shoulder. (Clothed, sadly. But a good shoulder either way).

Had she not thanked Regan enough for fighting against herself just to please her? Welp, that had to change. “Thank you for doing this, babe. I so appreciate it, you know. I'll show you how much when we get home, maybe... You could even get to choose the how?” Another flutter of her eyelashes, this time less innocent. Watching the rise and fall of Regan’s chest pick up just a bit was totally worth it. It meant she was in the mood to be persuaded. “What if a couch’s purpose is literally to allow for idleness? We’re allowing it to fulfill it. We’re so responsible.” And who knew more than the two of them about the struggle to carry out one’s purpose? But this was always gonna be a fun game of thumb wrestling. At least Regan wasn’t opposed to the color of their couch being green. “Yup, I know you do, babe” the amount of green in Regan’s closet had totally skyrocketed since they got together. She was such a sap. The dampest of them all. (And she’d chosen to share her dampness with Jade. Which, again… felt like winning the lottery).

But even if she liked green, Regan looked a little lukewarm about the particular couch they were judging. A little whelmed. Cause even if this one was the right color (so a total plus), it seemed to be too big according to Regan, which sounded like a bad thing. Jade let her go to examine the couch for other flaws, knowing soon enough Regan would need her pressed up against her again. And yup, sure enough, two beats later she felt Regan’s hand tugging her closer, reeling her in. Right. Too much space was a bad thing, how dare she forget. (She couldn’t question Regan’s methods here).

Jade met Regan’s gaze again, checking in with her. She’d learned by now, what those eyes revealed about Regan. When she was asking for help, or when she was done listening for the time being. She knew when they hit a roadblock, when Regan was done expanding, when it was time to relent. Or when, despite everything, a last minute push was needed. It used to be a push and pull, but it was more of an ebb and flow these days. Right now, her eyes read open. Hesitant, but open. So a little more encouragement could still go a long way. "A sectional then. And we can totally get removable cushions. That’s like super smart, anyway. But smaller, yeah? Cause you'd miss me too much, hm?” she quirked an eyebrow, then shook her head, pretending to be offended. “You just want me on top of you," and there was nothing wrong with, like, a cozier couch, that was true. Maybe she was focusing too much on choosing something to show off, instead of finding something for them.

Regan was fine with a sectional, which was a step closer to finding the one, even if it wasn’t the pastel green they were in front of. Jade didn’t like this shade of green, anyway, she could admit that, cause it wasn’t pastel-y enough to remind her of mint. So to recap, no velvet, not too spacious. And no fixed cushions. That didn’t sound too restrictive at all.

And oooh! It seemed Regan had found the one, judging by her voice. Her eyes darted from the green couch they were leaving behind to the new contender and… huh. It sure was a couch. Or was it a giant mouse cosplaying as a couch? Hard to tell. It was exactly the type of couch white people would fall for in a movie, and then they’d be haunted forever. But like, the FREE tag was tempting, totes. Why exactly was Regan in favor of this? Oh… as if reading her mind, Regan read the couch’s attributes. Of course it had a suffocation model. Not exactly what Jade looked for in a couch. (But like, she made a mental note of stopping by a different store when they were done looking at couches, maybe Regan could find something that would suit her taste there).

She rolled her eyes, an affectionate laughter bubbling softly. “Stop it. I love you,” she whispered, light and easy. Four months ago she wouldn't have dared to say those words, even as she was choking on it. But now it was as easy as breathing. And she was tired of sideway glancing stuff, so she shifted until she was facing Regan. She rubbed along her bicep, loosening Regan some more. “I want you to have comfort, I want your back and your thighs to touch the softest surfaces. I want you to feel like you’re literally sitting on a cloud,” Regan’s right eyebrow twitched, and Jade was so charmed. “Figuratively, babe. I know we can’t sit on clouds and it would probably not be a super great experience. And hear this: You could still sit on the frame for a few days. Test it out,” her eyes twinkled playfully which should’ve warned Regan she was about to rile her up. “I get the vibe you’ll cave in a few hours… Once you realize what’s on the other, superior side, anyway,” she wiggled her eyebrows, reaching for Regan’s hand to coax her away from the weird mouse couch, trying not to look back in case she had that wistful look in her eyes or that pout on her lips that made Jade agree to silly things.

A deep burgundy couch came next, which kinda remind her of wine. She liked wine! Plus she kinda liked the color too, even if it wasn’t bisexual green. “I have nothing to hate her for, actually. She’s innocent. But it’s not… it doesn’t feel like it, how about you?" Before Regan could share her take, Jade glanced to the side, to a striped black and white model. Ooooh, like a piano, obviously. Nothing else. It was weird that the tag advertised it as the ‘quietest couch in the world’, though. What did it mean? Why would a piano couch be quiet? Was it that the base didn’t squeak or screech if dragged across the floor? Actually… that might not be too bad of an idea for them. The concept was very confusing though, so she tugged on Regan. “She’s giving me mixed signals, which is only hot when you do it.” Skip!

—

The longer they were there, and the more they “compromised” (Regan was persuaded), the more obvious it was that Jade’s heart swelled at the thought of the perfect couch. Regan’s fingers trailed up to Jade’s wrist, capturing some of her pulse for herself; she wished she could borrow some of Jade’s certainty, too. She thought, at least, that they understood each other in this. The couch was meaningful to Jade because it was the first staple in the weepy incision that was their future together (it was a good incision; a surgical one, a healing one, and it wept profusely). Couches were meaningful to humans, to families, to couples – like that squirrely pair now approaching the first overly-bloated couch she rejected.

Regan saw understanding in Jade’s patience, too. Maybe she realized more about Regan’s trepidation than Regan even did. That often seemed to be the case. Did she know that when she’d kissed Regan’s shoulder, hours of tension drained out of it? (And went lower, actually.) For someone who was new to planning, Jade’s actions sure had some suspiciously desirable consequences at times. Could Regan counterstrike without getting the two of them banned from Just Couches? Probably not. Did she care at the moment? …Not enough, but her law-abiding sensibilities gave her just enough pause to think better of removing any clothes. They could stop by a cemetery after this. If they did, would they be able to write the couch off as a ‘business expense’ due to Jade’s slayer credentials? Okay, that was a stretch.

Even the word stretch had become problematic. And the thank you? The tantalizing form of said thank you? …In a couch store. “Why are you like this?” Regan breathed, one of those stupid, almost human smiles on her face. The most beautiful eyes beamed back at her. How could she not fall into them like the deepest of bogs? Jade’s whole face glowed with love and… couch. Right. This was improper conduct at a Just store. She gave Jade’s arm a small tug then released her hand, because she needed both of them to be able to focus again– this was a particularly laborious mission, wasn’t it?

In any case, it sounds like they more or less agreed: a sectional with removable cushions. So Regan could remove the ones under her own butt, and Jade could slide it under hers to double up and feel taller. If they could stay off of each other, which they couldn’t. Fearg an chinniúint, it wasn’t even worth asking herself how this had happened, because she had her answer every time her eyes landed on Jade. I love you came so easily to Jade now, didn’t it? It did to Regan, too, even if it stumbled at her mouth or keyboard sometimes (a work in progress along with all other expressions of emotion). And so much for behaving, because Jade had a lock on her, straight into her eyes. They could have been in a store called Just Jade, for all Regan noticed.

She also couldn’t really argue against Jade wanting something for her. Regan huffed once, then twice as the cloud comment was clarified. They both knew this was a losing battle (for Regan, as always). “They already do touch the softest surface on a daily basis. I don’t need to be on a couch for that to happen. Siobhan wouldn’t sit on a couch.” Actually… “Or maybe she would, because she no longer has a need to avoid such things. But it’s a slippery slope. If I’m comfortable on a couch, what’s next? A mattress pad? Cashmere sweaters?” She was, unfortunately, completely serious. Persuasive as always, Jade was. Regan groaned at the word test, because Jade knew she had this by making it experimental. “Credit me with more than a few hours. My mind is not so easily changed unless in the face of compelling evidence.” She reached for Jade’s arm and leaned toward her, because she appreciated the sentiment she argued against. “I’ll last at least four just to be right. Have you ever tried not sitting on a cushion, hm?” They both knew the answer to that. “Hey. This isn’t a bog or a cemetery.” Regan breathed a shaky sigh, like that ever helped her release any tension. “I think we’re supposed to sit on the couches to try them out. Not what we’re both thinking. Mostly you. I behave.”

If Jade had been trying to lead Regan to another option without having her think twice about the patchy mouse hair couch in the rearview, she succeeded. She noticed the new contender. The color was okay, though she found it wanting for more brown. Then it might evoke dried blood a little more. It was a dead ringer for zinfandel though, wasn’t it? Maybe that’s why Jade seemed to be admiring it (when not looking at her), despite it not being the green they had discussed. Also, were couches gendered now, or was this similar to when Jade spoke of other inanimate objects as being female? “It looks like an ordinary couch to me. How can you tell when one is it? Are there any actual criteria, or are you going to tell me it’s more of an intestinal feeling?” Regan considered her own question and glanced at the red couch again. No. Her intestines did nothing other than obediently digest lunch. “When I bought Emilio a new couch, I asked them to select it. I didn’t care. My goal was getting rid of the old one. They could pick for us, don’t you think? I expect only couch experts to work here.”

Jade had spoken, though. Not this couch. Onto the next. Which was larger, with deep cushions that were almost dizzying to look at due to the black and white vertical striping. “I like the color, if not for the stripes.” So solid black, or white. “More of a flesh color would be better, actually. Solid. Maybe in leather?” Out of the corner of her eye… had the couch moved? It almost seemed to shrink away when she spoke. Regan shot a harsh glance at the couch, the very same kind Jade thought she might have been receiving from the couches earlier. Had Jade seen it? Or was this one of those things that only she was gifted to see? What did it have to do with death? Regan’s face scrunched up when she noticed the description on the tag. Quietest couch? Absolutely not. “I would sooner buy a screaming couch than an exceptionally quiet one.” Neither of them were good at silence, and Regan held disdain for it, seeing it as an insult. The idea of a screaming couch perked her up though. “Do you think there is a screaming couch here?” She motioned toward the next in the row, ever hopeful.

Regan lifted a brow at Jade’s assessment. “My signals should inspire the utmost certainty. Like right now, you can tell you’re able to walk all over me. Not literally.” She twisted her lips. “That, too, though.” And… the couch? This one was completely flat. No cushions at all, other than outlined suggestions in chalk. It was more of a drawing of a couch on the ground than a real couch. Because that’s what it was. “This one! What do you think?” Once more, ever hopeful.

—

Her laugh returned as she watched in real time how easily Regan folded with a few suggestive words. Really! It was just called having manners, nothing more. Why wouldn’t Jade thank her all the time? (And well, especially if she got that reaction). Anyway, her laugh grew in volume, but not enough to sound like a hyena. Cause she didn’t wanna disturb the older couple. She squeezed Regan’s fingers, but the urge to draw closer and bury her face on the crook of her neck just to hold each other for a prolonged time (also known in some circles as hugging) was like, a true test. Why are you like this? Jade could barely think when she spotted the soft smile stretching on Regan’s face. If making her smile had been a duty, Jade would’ve been the GOAT, no doubt. (And she would’ve never ever questioned if she wanted to continue doing it) (Not that… anyway). “Mmm, I hear no complaints.” But Jade did use to wonder why she was like this. And not like her siblings. Or like her parents (cause if she were, then maybe they would’ve loved—) And actually, that same question had been making a real comeback recently. But when Regan said it, it felt like… it could maybe be a good thing. Being… Just Jade.

Regan’s apprehension didn’t simply melt away, but Jade could see the small progress she made beat by beat, with a healthy mix of sound logic and shameful flirting. (And wasn’t that the most fun way to get through Regan anyway?) Plus, adding the removable cushions meant she didn’t have to fully embrace all of the softness just yet. Only until Regan realized that there was a superior side to the couch. (She was a smart cookie, she would get it eventually). “Siobhan totally sits on a couch, I’ve been to her place like, once or twice” her comment wasn’t needed, as Regan herself realized the flaw in her argument. And look, Jade was understanding of her concern about a slippery slope. (She’d been thinking about slippery slopes a lot recently) “You don’t have to be comfy in any of those things yet, just a couch, for now.” Did she… hear a ‘Ta-da!’ ding as she finished her sentence? The Just chains were amazing, weren’t they? She hoped one day she’d get to meet Mr. Just (Or Mrs. This had all the makings of a woman’s idea). “I can’t believe you want me to act like you wouldn’t look hot with a Cashmere sweater,” she sighed dramatically, eyes twinkling as they flickered back to Regan. If she could pretend it was for her benefit, she could probably get Regan to buy one, right?

It was pretty cute, the way Regan believed she’d last for hours away from her. Adorable. She wasn’t gonna burst that bubble yet. More gloating for later. “I am compelling evidence, though,” and by the way Regan leaned forward, Jade was inclined to think she agreed too. Yup. And maybe she did let her eyes wander to Regan’s lips, but in a totally chill way. Cause they were in Just Couches, looking for couches. A gal knew about time and place. (Wasn’t it nice that nobody could contradict the blatant lies she told herself?) Regan did look like she had a cemetery or a bog in her mind though, and sure enough. Focus. Just Couches! Another laugh bubbled, cause Regan was openly joking with her. And something about that dryness in her tone and the quick wit, made Jade feel a little funny. “Wow, I can’t believe you’d lie about behaving while looking at me like that in a couch store,” she tutted, letting herself be pulled along before either of them could misbehave. “We’ll sit when we think we have one. It feels a little rude to sit on every single one.” Cause if someone truly desired that mouse looking couch, they should be allowed to test their cold, fluffy cushions in full glory.

In front of the burgundy couch, Regan popped the most important question yet. (Nope, not that one) (She was pretty sure they were past that one already. But she should like, confirm some day, shouldn’t she?). How could they tell when they had the right couch? Jade didn’t ponder on it long at all, it was super obvious to her. She glanced at Regan, eyes soft but certain, “the same way I knew you were it. And how you knew I was it. The vibes, not vibrations, will come to you,” it was how she also knew that this burgundy couch was sexy, but there was a better one waiting for them. “Some would say it’s an intestinal feeling, yup. Like butterflies. Not the real kind. Like the ones we talked about at the cemetery,” the ones she felt that same night, looking across the ground to find Regan picking up a floral arrangement.

It went without saying that Jade was letting no ‘couch experts’ decide where she and Regan would rest their beautiful behinds for the next few years. So the only acknowledgement she gave to that idea was a head shake, then moved onto the striped couch. Which, Regan wasn’t sold on it either, but like… not exactly for the same reasons. She wasn’t sure how she felt about a flesh colored leather couch, even if the leather bit of it kinda sounded sexy. She wouldn’t hate a leather couch, but she did worry a little about the cats. And… hadn’t they already discussed what the plan was to keep them away from it as much as possible? So, yup. She was warming up to a leather couch for realsies. And wait, Regan wanted a screaming couch? How was she not supposed to crack a joke about that? She nibbled on her bottom lip, sensing Bob and Doris strolling somewhere behind them. Nope, she couldn’t make any kind of jokes. Behave, she reminded herself.

Thankfully, Regan was dutifully guiding them around the store, and if she could sense Jade was about to lose it, she didn’t even show it. When she was finally able to get back in the conversation, Regan had some thoughts on her signals, it seemed. “Oh, they do inspire certainty now. During the snail saga? Not as much.” But honestly? Who was she kidding? Then too. Jade always liked Regan’s signals, even when they pissed her off a little bit. Why else would Jade have been so persistent that there was something beautiful to explore between them?

Not as beautiful as the growth in their relationship, was the model Regan was pointing at. It was a drawing on the floor of where a couch should’ve been. And ugh, the way Regan pointed at it, hope sparkling in her blue eyes. It was unfair, okay? How dare she be the most endearing person in the world? And now she felt horrible, that she had to let her down. But she wasn’t gonna make fun of it. Even if she sometimes suspected Regan did this sorta thing to see how much she could push. Classic baby sibling behavior. Jade took it seriously. She rubbed her chin, pretending to consider it. “Well it is sectional, which we agreed to… But it’s missing my side of the cushions, isn’t it?” She raised a pointed eyebrow, like she was making the most logical argument in the world. (Cause she was). “I don’t wanna have to buy them separately,” yup. That was it. That was the reason.

She tugged on Regan’s hand, distracting her from her dream couch, and stood on her tiptoes, doing a quick sweep of the store. There were like, so many couches. (Of course there were, they were Just Couches), but she focused on spotting the green ones. “Come on, there’s one there!” And sure, when Jade picked up pace and brought Regan along with her it meant they were bypassing a bunch of (probably) decent models in the process. And they weren’t really following any kinda order but, green couch! She speedwalked, giggling all the way to their next destination. A second (or third?) green couch. The cushions were so, so big on this one. Her feet would probably dangle if she sat. But it wasn’t huge to the sides, so Regan could still snuggle as much as she wanted. Jade was obsessed. She could probably hide like, several blades underneath. For defense reasons. She looked back at Regan, who was too far away from her liking. She needed more of her, so she got it, pulling her to her side. Hazel eyes greeted her first, and then she spoke. “I like it.”

—

Regan was a little unclear on how picking a couch was similar to falling in love, but she admittedly wasn’t an expert on either (she hadn’t done so terribly with the latter though, right?). Vibrations she knew; vibes, not so much. That was all Jade. Was she about to say this couch’s vibes were bad? Regan’s stomach tightened, because she wanted to defend this choice but logic was no counter to Jade’s decisions, sometimes. But when Jade spoke, it wasn’t about feelings that had no rational origin – instead, her concern was practical and cushion-related. “Would it be so bad to buy them separately? It means you could choose the color.” Currently, the couch – a simple outline – was the color of the floor itself, which was grey cement. It reminded Regan of headstones. Tasteful. A true classic. “You could get green ones. Or baby blue. Or maybe a nice pattern, like herring bones.” Regan looked at the couch again, a little more critically this time. “I suppose it is a little low to the ground.” Closer to the buried dead, she thought, optimistically. She knew when things became a losing battle, though, and Jade’s glutes needed to be as comfortable as Regan’s were sore.

Jade was on a mission, and Regan barely kept pace as Jade surged through the store with more grace than any human ought to have. Every once in a while she’d pause, do a quick scan as if she had something in mind but didn’t see it, and then take off into a dash again. It was usually Regan herself doing this, in hot pursuit of death she was trying to pinpoint. The role reversal brought a small smile to her lips even as she was being pulled along. Regan chose not to interrupt such a delicate process. It didn’t take Jade long to find what she had in mind, anyway – like an osprey diving for a fish, she careened them toward a luxurious – and green – couch. If Regan had to describe the exact color, it would probably be, well, jade.

It looked far too inviting. This was a couch that would destroy one’s posture, reduce the firmness of the buttocks, and, who knows, maybe murder your family. It looked like the kind of couch Regan might have needed to leverage up to rescue a flattened decedent who had died underneath. The kind of couch with pillows ideal for committing a homicide via obstructive asphyxiation. Regan didn’t trust it, even if the color did remind her of the precious ring on her finger and the woman next to her. Curiosity compelled her to check the tag, which showed a reasonable price and, like the other couches, listed some of its features. Regan raised a brow as she read them off. “One hundred knife storage pockets, a cup holder – singular, I don’t know where, vibration mode, night mode, couch mode, disco mode, flotation mode, and includes one year of membership into the Just Club.” At least the membership was nice. And Jade would appreciate all the knife pockets. Regan wasn’t yet convinced.

But when she looked into Jade’s eyes – okay, the comparison to love started to make sense. Jade might have simply said she liked the couch, but Regan recognized what want looked like on her face. Jade was probably picturing the couch in all kinds of homes, thinking up decorations, carpets (Regan was also opposed to carpets), a fireplace. And, what Regan was most certain about: she was thinking about both of them on it. Suddenly all of her distrust hardly registered. Just like Regan had come around to soggy fries and chocolate so bitter it made her mouth pucker for hours, she would also come around to this. Probably. Maybe.

“What have you done to me?” Regan said under her breath, unsure if it had been in English or Irish, but with some amusement either way. Regan leaned against Jade, her head rolling to the side to rest on Jade’s shoulder. “You can’t go around telling everyone that I never say no to you, even if it’s true, okay? But I think I could absorb the look on your face right now forever, like decompositional fluid on a white shirt. So if this couch makes it stick – again, like decompositional fluid on a white shirt – then we will get the couch.” And even if seeing that beautiful shine of desire on Jade’s face forever was unrealistic, Regan would keep it there for however long the two of them would have together. And then even after, could she conjure it back up if she brushed her fingers over Jade’s maxilla and mandible, hundreds of years from now?

“Not so fast, though. Can we get both?” Regan tilted her head, making sure the depressing fluorescent lighting of the store hit her eyes now. “This one, and the flat one. A couple of cushions and you wouldn’t mind, right?” Plus it seemed compact enough that both couches could fit both in a storage unit, should they choose to reside there. “I don’t know how you expect me to stay awake during an entire movie on this thing. Which, come to think of it, we should ask if there’s a matching mattress that comes with the other couch, just as firm.” Jade’s eyes were quick to call her out. “Fine. An ottoman?”

—

Jade was totally sure she didn’t want to buy separate cushions. Like, almost as sure as she was of the ring on her finger and the meaning behind it. (Almost. The idea of baby blue cushions did give her a small pause). Nope, no cushions for the imaginary couch. In the meantime, Regan had found another con, and Jade latched onto it. “Mmmm, it's so low. If I wanted to be that low I would get one of those puffy beanbag chairs…” She trailed off, cause actually! Her eyes lit up at the idea. Weren’t beanbag chairs so comfy and cute? The best part is that they wouldn’t be able to get up after, they would be stuck there till the end of times. Kinda like her bog. As much as she was vibrating in excitement, she decided to spare Regan of her new genius idea, though. On the account of her mourning her dream couch. This way, they both lost something, didn’t they? It was a super fair exchange.

Plus, they had found a real contender now in the green couch, so beanbags were forgotten. It was promising that Regan was examining this one without the same stiffness she had the others. Maybe she had been exposed to so many comfy couches already that she had warmed up to them. They weren’t just torture devices anymore. Jade got her hopes up, for real. And oh! She hadn’t even read the tag yet. “Knife pockets!?” Wasn’t that like, so convenient and perfect? How did Just Couches know? That was probably why the Just chains were so popular. They catered to every interest. But, forget about knives (you heard that right), what was that about different modes? She moved closer to read the tag too. (And to get a better look at that sexy eyebrow Regan was rising) (Mmm, the right one). Yup. Disco mode? Vibration mode? They had to try all of them. Her excitement skyrocketed. And at this point, she was bracing for like, major disappointment if Regan decided to pull the plug for any reason. “Do you think this is couch mode?” she mused. Maybe it was store mode. She dragged her eyes lower, finding out about the Just Club membership at the same time as Regan. “I wanna go there, we are gonna go there,” she let out a dreamy sigh.

Her hand found Regan’s waist, pulling her closer. Sparkling eyes darted between her dream couch and her dream woman. (Wasn’t it weird, to be so freaking blissful at a couch store?) She didn’t have to say it, Regan could read the pretty please all over her face. And she got to see in real time how Regan melted to her mushiest version. Ugh, adorable. She snickered and not satisfied with a head on her shoulder, she nudged Regan so they could see each other. “Never. It’ll be our little secret,” she whispered, face inching closer just cause being in Regan’s orbit did that to her. She wasn’t gonna bring up the fact that a lot of people could probably already tell anyway. Cause there was nothing wrong with a small dose of delusion. Regan said yes to the couch, and Jade gifted her one of those smiles the other loved so much. It was a fair deal. In fact, she wanted to make it an even better one. Cause Regan was setting aside her own doubts and fighting her demons to find a comfy couch for her. It meant like, so much. She leaned in, for the faintest brush of their lips. And when Regan needed a little more than that, she gave in too. Cause Jade aimed to please, always. But she kept it sweet and gentle, okay? So nobody could come and yell at them to ‘get a room’ (which, knowing them, would've been more of an encouragement than anything else).

Parting was always the worst part, but she stayed close, enjoying the softness of Regan’s skin against the tip of her nose. No one ever warned Jade about how addicting that softness would be, but she had zero complaints. “You’re gonna love it too, I just know,” and when had she ever been wrong when it came to Regan? Reluctantly, she put more distance between them, cause they had a store clerk to call and like, sort out the purchase. She reached for Regan’s hand when her words stopped her. “Hm?” Both… what? Oh. Nope, actually, she was back to blanking on what Regan was trying to communicate, her two brain cells short-circuiting a little bit when she saw the fluorescent light reflect on Regan’s eyes. She could stare at her all day, and that was not a hyperbole. She had to restrain herself from going for another kiss. And shoot, right, Regan was talking. “I don’t see why not,” and maybe, that was her gayness talking, what about it? She knew Regan would ditch the outlined couch the second she saw Jade sprawled on their fancy green couch, ready to be snuggled (those back examinations were gonna hit so hard). She let out a cackle. “A matching mattress?” so, like… made of air? Those were a real thing. Except Regan probably meant another rectangle taped on the ground. Her eyebrows pinched together, and Regan came in hot with a correction. She laughed again, feeling extremely waterlogged. Regan was so sure it was her who never said no to Jade’s whims, but did she know how hard it was for her to not go along with every silly idea that popped into Regan’s head? Especially when there was a smile that reached her eyes? Hardest thing she’d ever done. Forget about hunter training. “Yup. We can get you an outlined ottoman, baby.” So really, why say no? Her hand reached down, giving her a love pat. “Come on, let’s find someone, before we end up agreeing on the free mouse couch too”.

#c jade #writing

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taegularities · 1 year

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okay so I'm not experienced (like at all) and I don't have an older sister or a close friend, so I'll take this opportunity to ask a couple of questions if you guys don't mind (thanks in advance) ps guys don't worry I'm not a child, I'm in my early twenties

1. Does getting hickeys hurt? (I suppose it's still some sort of bruising so it must hurt)

2. Does doing it *whispers* sex hurt? I've heard some horror stories so my mind is tainted with fear

3. This one is more of a confession: as I said, I'm in my early twenties but I've never been in a relationship before. This is because (among many other things) I've never been attracted to anyone, haven't had even the tiniest bit of a crush on a real person [I'm very sensitive to touch (I don't know why), I can't even hug my parents or relatives because I feel claustrophobic when people touch me. To be honest, even thinking about being intimate with someone else used to disgust me. And I've been like this even before falling for bangtan, ever since I can remember myself. The only people I can imagine kissing and not feeling uncomfortable are our boys (I'm not delulu, I'm not even thinking of this as something that might actually happen, I'm just sharing my feelings with the only people I'm comfortable with) ... so yeah, just wanted to see if there's someone out there feeling the same way

Thank you for reading and feel free to ignore this, I won't mind 🌻

AHHH ofc, no worries !! we're here for you. thank you for feeling comfy enough to ask <3

you're right, it's some sort of bruising, so i personally find it uncomfortable at times. i know a lot of people enjoy them and love how they turn out, but to me, they're... okay? like, it's not unbearable pain or anything but i find them unpleasant :')

sex doesn't hurt with sufficient foreplay and preparation. and i don't just mean a bit of fingering and clit stimulation, i mean actual foreplay like oral/sex toys/minutes and minutes of pleasure before having penetrative sex (unless you're already wet n soaking n ready!!). it might also hurt if you're not mentally ready for it yet – like tmi, but i remember that it just didn't work for me when i first tried bc i was too nervous lol. but as long as the partner's considerate and you trust them, it should not hurt !!

this is so valid, babe !!! you're absolutely not the only one who feels that way. a lot of people are sensitive to touch or just don't have a very present sex drive. that's okay !! you'll love and enjoy your time with your future partner the way you're comfortable with. sex isn't everything when it comes to being with someone. we definitely have a type of mental relationship with the boys, so we feel that we'd trust them enough with that. but if it's different for you irl, then that's valid, and you don't have to worry about it at all – as time passes, you'll learn what you like and dislike <3

talk to me about this anytime, no worries !! 💕

#if anyone wants to add anything pls feel free to <3 #*thirst night #notes for rid 🌹#anon #long ask

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eusuchia · 1 year

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where would you move to if not toronto? i feel all my friends have toronto as the ideal living place (bonkers rent aside) but also we are literally all from small town northern ontario lol

I get why people move here! I mean I literally am here. it was fine. it is fine. it has all the amenities you want in a big city, like some semblance of public infrastructure, non white people, queer people, communists, certain health services, arts, food, weird niche scenes and stores and whatever. BUT,

now that I've been here for a decade, the rent that was astronomically expensive to me (coming from montreal 2014, where we had an old but comfy 2br for $750/mo total. $325/mo each) when I first got here now seems laughably cheap. it's miserable, yet competitive, and a lot of people get locked into shitty living situations out of fear of the nightmare of finding a new place to live. people often remark about the chill vibes montreal has (or had, depends who you ask), and ultimately a lot of it came down to: not having to hustle your ass off because you could have a beautiful walk-up in a nice medium-density neighbourhood for <$500, and being able to get good microbrews and wine at your corner store, lmao. QC tuition is also cheap for QC residents, and still cheaper than most places for out-of-province, so it really is/was The Place to be a student.

but back to hating toronto: the sprawl is sickening! you get a reprieve in certain neighbourhoods but it's just concrete on concrete on concrete mostly. I feel claustrophobic and trapped here. it takes over an hour IN A CAR to leave the city, or more like two hours if you get unlucky on the 401. if you don't drive? lmao. the commutes that people treat as 'normal' here are unbelievable and inhumane. if I want to be 'in nature' i have to make a whole trip out of it, like that's my entire day. and even then it involves shielding your eyes from the city and pretending it's not there while you look at the lake, or high park, or whatever. I never appreciated this enough about edmonton as a kid/teen but now when I think too hard about the river valley at home I get nauseatingly homesick. (ofc the sprawl in the prairies is horrific as well; I grew up in the small area of downtown edmonton well-serviced by public transport and by the river).

this is to say nothing of the big chunks of 'toronto proper' that I avoid entirely because they're full of the people toronto really wants to cater to, i.e. bay st business guys and lawyers who are the ones buying up all the new developments as investment properties. everything cool here gets torn down for these assholes and turned into luxury condos and people clap and cheer because it's 'more housing!' and you look over and doug ford is getting handed a big novelty check from the Corrupt Personal Friends of Ford Family and Property Developers Foundation.

ANYWAY. I don't know. I had my sights set on halifax for a long time, I love a smaller city and I LOVE the atlantic. it's marginally more affordable than here. it's very white but not as scary white as like, tbh, small town ontario/alberta, I think largely due to being a city and a big student population. but the more I think about it the more it seems kind of stupid to move myself so far away from all my friends, family, networks, etc... again. my fourth province? god. if I do it, I should do it earlier rather than later I guess? but the logistics are nightmarish.

hamilton is on my mind lately. it's more affordable, smaller, less insane as a move, would be close enough to family for my partner to be more comfortable and it's MUCH easier to 'go outside'. I have friends there so I wouldn't be starting completely over again, I even have clients who come to me from there so my work transition wouldn't be crazy. and I could still commute to toronto with bike + GO train. BUT THEN I WOULD STILL BE IN THIS FUCKING PROVINCE.

idk dude sorry for going on and on but this is literally all I've been thinking about for the last few months and I had a minor crisis about it all last week. godspeed getting out of small town ontario anyway. I guess my thesis is... if you speak french, consider montreal?

#all my friends here are from ontario basically. drives me crazy. they don't understand #they've never seen the fucking SKY #whenever I meet another person from the prairies we talk incessantly about being in the Wrong Biome

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o0-kira-0o · 2 years

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twistedyapping · 4 months

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my relationship with tumblr

i feel like i should do a yapping session bc i havent in a while and this topic keeps popping up in my brain so im gonna take u thru a journey of what my relationship with tumblr has been like for the last. Eons.

to start, right now i fucking love tumblr so much- i have genuinely never enjoyed posting on an app more and like don't get me wrong im sure this one has its issues, as does every social media app, but this one to me is at least the most tolerable.

my relationship with ig is mid at best, i like it but it's kinda lame and posting on it???? Bro i post like MAYBE once a year at best.

my relationship with twitter is pure hate and also non-existent bc i got so sick and tired of it that i caved and uninstalled it like a month or so ago and haven't wanted to go back on it since.

my relationship with tiktok is also mid at best, posting is closer to a chore tbh even though i dont do it regularly at all- i also get stressed trying to keep up with reach and stuff so i kinda just dont 😵‍💫

my relationship with facebook is non-existent.

my relationship with pinterest??? God bless that app but i dont post on it- i just go there for editing content and silly content, that's it.

This app tho??? God bless. I barely even scroll on it- i mostly come here to post, which makes it the only one of it's kind on my phone (90% posting, 10% scrolling)

but when i do scroll on it, it's so refreshing- i just see pretty space pics and stuff bc that's what i wanna see. i dont see argument after argument or cancellable offense after cancellable offence like on twitter, i dont see lame stupid stuff that im not interested in like on ig, and i dont get over/understimulated out of my mind like on tiktok.

However! This was not always the case for me with tumblr. in fact, it used to be quite the opposite!!!!

i used to hate tumblr with every fiber of my being- if i ever came to it, it was out of desperation. desperation for silly content (which funnily enough is kinda what drove me back to it after all these years)

it was overcomplicated, i hated the vibe of everything i saw, i hated how public it felt, etc- But ofc this was way back when i had a horrifically foggy head on my shoulders and barely knew who i was so 😮‍💨😮‍💨😮‍💨😮‍💨😮‍💨😮‍💨

it felt claustrophobic for me back then, like literally somehow- and now it feels very comfy and i love the idea of just sitting down and writing a post on astrology or posting my image edits or even my fallout photography or sumn-

it just feels like the perfect place for me somehow- Like i can write abt whatever, write abt astrology, post photography, post edits, look at space stuff, whatever!!! it makes me feel more like an artist bc it gives me a space to do everything i wanna do

and omg dont even get me STARTED on the customization for each blog u can have BROOOOOOOOOO that's literally my favorite part- i fucking LOVE changing my whole blog's vibe down to the FONT dude it genuinely makes me so happy 😭😭😭😭😭

and who knows!!!! i might even end up with another blog at some point for like writing short stories or something bc i do love doing that- definitely wouldn't fit in with this yapping blog tho But another blog means another one to customize!!!! Yippee!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 🥳🥳🥳🥳🥳🥳🥳🥳🥳🥳🥳🥳

and my posts on here- well not so much on this blog tbh i think i havent found the right tags yet But on my other 2, my posts actually do pretty well, especially the astrology one- and it's such a switch from ig's shitty algorithm and tiktok's inconsistency-

this one is actually like. Kind of consistent. and it makes me feel like im doing something right by posting here tbh and probably even if my posts did ass, i would still make them- bc like. It's fun. 😮‍💨

anyway ya that's abt it- i wanted to do a yapping session before bed yknow- this one's a little shorter than most But that's ok 🥳🥳

- 🌙 -

#yapatron5000 #yapping #me when i yap #my thoughts #rant #rant post #writing #yapping session #rambles #ramblings #writers on tumblr #artists on tumblr #tumblr

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sluttbuttsstuff · 3 years

Note

For the prompts, 49 with doppio? >:3 Idk what it is about him I just look at him and think “oh you’re NEEDY needy, huh?”. Thank you so much, you’re a really good writer! :)

No problem buddy, thanks for the request! >:3

Warnings: not sfw, dubcon/noncon, abduction, dark themes, yandere, etc.

Also, my requests are still open, if anyone else is interested!

Enjoy!

Yandere prompt with Doppio, “You want me to fuck you…? Would that make you happy? Would it make you love me?” afab reader, dub/non con

All you wanted to do now was go home. You had had a long week at work, your parents were nagging you again, and to make things worse you had a headache that would not go away. After an exhausting day that began before the sun was out, and ended after the sun had set, you certainly deserved to do nothing more than go home, eat some junk food in your comfy pjs, listen to a podcast while you took a bath and pampered yourself, and maybe jerk off before bed. Unfortunately, you had a “girls night” tonight.

Your friends (your IRL friends at least) complained that you never went out with them anymore (nevermind that whenever you suggested doing something with them, or wanted to chat or text on the phone they were busy) and had forced you to go clubbing with them to celebrate the three-day weekend ahead. You weren’t much of a drinker, and really weren’t much of a dancer, so you had been given the purses to hold while you waited for them to be ready to go home.

You wrinkled your nose in frustration, glaring into the blurry screen of your phone looking at the late time: this was unfair. You were a hard worker, kind to a fault to those around you, and you deserved better than this. Sitting in a corner of a crowded club, everyone in the place having a great time except for you, tired and alone. At least in your apartment, you chose to be there, and at least no one actively ignored you: places like this just pointed out the flaws you hated about yourself more: you were bad with people, and easy to ignore.

Once one of your “friends” stumbled over to the group’s table, you left them with everyone's purse, mumbling you were going to the bathroom (you didn’t know if she heard you and you didn’t care) and left before anyone could stop you. You stumbled your way to the restroom in heels way too high for you to walk in, trying to clean yourself up and find a quiet place to text your goodbyes so your friends wouldn’t worry about your sudden disappearance. Leaning over the sink counter, you wiped a makeup smear off the corner of your lips, noticing a second too late someone behind you.

“Hey, there’s another sink-” You began to say to the blurred figure way too close to you, before a sudden eruption of pain hit the side of your head, and you were out in a flash…

The next time you regained consciousness was several hours later, but it was still dark when you opened your eyes, trying to remember what happened and where in the world you were. The stale cigarette smell, the unreasonably cold ac, the bedsheets starched so strongly that the sheets felt like plastic- this was definitely a motel. But where, and how long had you been here? As you began to sit up, you heard a surprised, timid voice.

“Oh, thank goodness! You’re awake, I was beginning to worry about you! Hold on, don’t move so suddenly, i’ll help you sit up.

Sure enough, as you started moving, your head lit up with painful throbbing that made last night’s headache seem like nothing in comparison. You grit your teeth and clenched your eyes shut, trying not to groan in pain.

“What the hell happened to me last night?” you grunted through your teeth, rubbing your temple as gentle hands helped slowly sit you up propped against cushions.

“Haha, you had a lot of bad luck last night, running into my boss. He was waiting for...an employee in the restroom and thought you were sent after him. He’s a bit paranoid, and he may have...accidentally clobbered you.” The voice apologized, gentle as he handed you what felt like a glass of water.

You forced yourself to open your eyes; it was still dark, but you could tell it wasn’t because of the time of day but rather a lack of light and closed curtains. You looked at..you looked at the person in front of you. Like whoever had attacked you last night, they had long pink hair, braided and side parted. Their eyes were green and wide, and they looked particularly juvenile with a crop top and freckles. They were on the smaller side, perhaps even shorter than you (hard to tell from while on the bed) and their eyes were crinkled in apprehension, like he was afraid you were going to hurt him.

“Erm, don’t worry though, I talked him out of doing anything too..extreme, after all I'm his right hand man! Besides, you seem like a perfectly nice person, I'd hate to see anything bad happen to you. Sorry, I'm rambling! Umm, do you want something for your headache? You were groaning in your sleep, I'm sure it doesn’t feel so good right now-” He went on and on, pulling out some painkillers to take with your water.

After thanking him, you were about to swallow the pill before pausing, looking at the strange man who’d taken you to a remote hotel after his boss had nearly killed you. Sensing your suspicion, doppio exclaimed, “Oh, don’t worry, they’re safe, name brand painkillers! Um, hold on, lemme just-” And he made a show of popping some of the pills you were holding into his mouth and swallowing, sticking out his tongue and opening his mouth to show you he’d ingested it.

Satisfied, and more importantly in a lot of pain, you took some of the pills yourself, much to the relief of the pink haired man.

“Oh good, thank you for doing that! I was so worried watching you asleep, you’ll feel much better now! By the way, my name’s Doppio, it’s a pleasure to meet you! Oh! And I know your name’s y/n because you had your purse and ID on you! Haha, sorry for going through your purse, I was just hoping to find any info on you that might be, you know, important.” he sat on the bed, scooching closer and closer to you.

You cleared your throat, unsure of what to say, and the watchful eyes of Doppio doing nothing to make you feel better.

“Well, um, thank you, Doppio. I appreciate you, um, saving me? Sorry for any inconvenience, I'll just, um-” You try to get up to leave, only for Doppio to place a hand over your leg.

“Don’t go! What, I mean, what if you hurt yourself? You probably have a concussion, and also you haven’t had breakfast? We could eat together and-” Doppio stammered, grabbing your hand and stroking it with his sweaty, cold fingers.

You had to stop him, before things got out of hand.

“Thank you, Doppio, it really was very sweet of you to take such good care of me, but I-”

“Please! You don’t understand, I mean-” Doppio fumbled with his words, clearly trying to make you stay at all costs.

“Doppio, i can’t stay here forever, i need to go home. My friends are probably worried about me by now.” You tried to press on, you didn’t want to upset the man with a powerful boss, but you felt increasingly claustrophobic with Doppio pawing at you.

“You mean those mean girls who left you with their purses all night? Why would you care about what they-” Doppio covered his mouth with both hands quickly, realizing what he just said.

Your blood ran ice cold; how did he know so much about them? Had he been watching you before the “incident”

Using his moment of weakness, you got up from the bed and tried to reach the door; it was time for you to go home, if not call the cops.

Doppio yelped, Throwing himself in front of the door before you could make your escape.

“Please, don’t be scared y/n! I didn’t mean to upset you, I only meant that I can treat you much better than your friends can. I mean, look at how good I've been for you so far?? I didn’t make you dance with me at the club, even though I really wanted to. I didn’t just have my fun against your will in the bathroom stall like the boss told me to do.I saved you from a concussion, or worse! I got you your own hotel room for the night, and didn’t take advantage of you or touch you while you were asleep! I want our first time to be special, after all! Isn’t that what you want?” Doppio pleaded, eyes wild as he tried to smile, trying to calm you.

You were anything but calm however, this guy was clearly obsessed with you, and had been for longer than just one night. Even if at first he had merely seemed like a pathetic “nice guy” you no longer had any pity or time to give him.

“Doppio, get away from the door and let me leave, now.” you demanded in your best authoritative voice. Doppio whimpered, this wasn’t how this was supposed to go at all, you were supposed to love him!

“You can’t! Boss and I won’t let you!” He cried, covering the door with his body. With no other choice, you slid out of your shoes and charged at him full speed. You managed to give him a good blow on the head, and threw him out of the way of the door. He cried, crumpled on the ground. If not for the fact that he had kidnapped you, you might have felt bad for hurting him like this, but you had to think of yourself at this moment.

As you finally unlock and pull open the door, heading towards freedom, you hear the strangest noise behind you.

“RingRingRingRingRing!” Doppio calls after you, in an unnatural, high pitched tone. You try to ignore it, you literally don’t have time for this, but with strength he had not previously displayed, Doppio grabs one of your arms, twisting it behind your back and up to his ear, holding it like a telephone.

There’s a trickle of blood, and one of his eyes is rolled back in its socket, but he calmly says, “Hello, this is Doppio,” Into your hand, as if he was having a normal conversation on the phone.

You scream out, doubled over by the pain in your arm, Doppio silent as he “listens” to his “Phonecall” oblivious to your suffering. Where did all this power come from? He was acting like an entirely different person, and frankly scaring you. Doppio nodded, pulling your hand closer into his ear and intently listening to nothing but air before “Hanging up and pulling you back into the motel room.

He threw you on the bed ( his arms felt much stronger, and more muscular for some reason) before crawling on top of you and pinning you down. You were too stunned, and frankly too scared, to come up with any means of escape, just weakly struggling to throw him off of you to no avail.

“Doppio, please-” You whispered, eyes blurry with tears.

“I talked to the boss, and he helped me figure out what to do. He wants our relationship to succeed after all!” Doppio exclaimed, additude reverted to how he’d first spoken to you. You were confused, you’d neither seen nor heard anyone in or around the room, who was he talking to and how?

“Boss told me that people like you need some discipline in order to be obedient, or you’ll walk all over me. If I can do that, then I can make you love me, and we’ll be happy together, isn’t that what you want?” Doppio told you, stroking your cheek.

“This is not okay, Doppio!” you yell, thrashing against both arms, “Let me go or i’ll-”

...

Wait a minute, both arms?

Then how was he…?

You look over to one side in shock, only to see a floating metallic and red arm holding you down, one on either side. You screamed, overwhelmed by a stalker and strange supernatural forces you couldn’t understand.

“Oh, you can see King Crimson's arms? Interesting, perhaps because of your near death experience with Boss, you can see stands now? Although, it would be bad if you developed a stand, what to do?...” Doppio pondered to himself, speaking apparent babble.

You cried, trying to wake up from this obvious nightmare with no luck.

“Awww, hey y/n, it’s okay, i’m not gonna hurt you! Not if you be good for me and Boss.” Doppio cooed, kissing your cheeks and forehead. “I talked boss into keeping you with us- you’re always so lonely at home, and never have a good time with others, right? You don’t have to lie anymore, I've been watching you for a while. Nobody else seems to, though, they’re too self-absorbed and stupid to realize how incredible you are!” He continued, oblivious to his words not helping, but hurting you.

“You’re perfect for me and boss, we can take really good care of you. Forget this lousy motel, we have mansions and villas all over Italy that we can take holidays to. We have billions of Lira from work, you’ll never have to lift another finger and we’ll pamper you to death. And best of all? You’ll never have to see your awful friends or family again! Isn’t it awful how they treat you? We can get rid of them, so they can’t hurt you!” He finishes, grinning ear to ear, but his eyes hollow and lifeless, staring unblinkingly into yours.

This guy was sick, there was no other word to it. You might have had issues with your family, and yeah your friends could be assholes sometimes, but you didn’t want them killed! What good would that do you, or anyone for that matter?!

Doppio seemed to read your thoughts, “Look, I know it's a lot to take in at once, but trust me. Boss and I have planned this out for a while now, and we’re always going to do what’s best for us, ok? So don’t worry so much, and please stop struggling? Boss warned me if you got too unruly he’d take over and finish what he started last night.

A wave of nausea slithered through you as you remembered, thinking how close you were to dying. You gave up, lying limp on the bed, praying for this to end.

Doppio smiled again, this one almost seeming genuine, and gave you the softest kiss to your lips. It was childish, almost, and he clearly lacked experience, but he gained more confidence from your lack of struggling. With the mysterious hands holding you (stands? King crimson?) his own hands were free to touch you. He started With your cheeks, your face, your hair, your neck, stroking you with feather-light touches, his fingers tracing each curve, digit and flaw like he was trying to memorize it all.

“Finally… I finally get to touch you like this… I’ve been waiting for so long, y/n. Do you know how long I've wanted to hold you?” He whispered, wrapping his arms around your neck, cradling your cheek to his. You didn’t know, and you didn’t want to, but Doppio told you anyway.

“I’ve been watching, waiting...for so long. Following you home from work, listening into your calls, finding your online accounts. I’ve known since I first saw you that you were the one for me, and now I get to prove it to you. I get to show you all the things I've been meaning to do to you. You’ll never be lonely again, not with me around. We’ll never be lonely~”

He giggled the last part, giddy with excitement, as he slid his fingers down your ribcage, your sides, fiddling with the bottom of your shirt. You wriggled, trying to fight him off again, only to your dismay Doppio giggled even harder at your reactions-perhaps because he knew you could never overpower him.

“Ohhh~ still so shy? Don’t be so uptight, y/n, you need to live a little! I know how much you want this; you complain about it all the time on your personal blog-” You could feel the blush on your cheeks heating up your face, desperate to make him shut up, “ How you want someone to have their way with you, to make you forget everything else in life. You’re desperate for someone to truly cherish and understand you; mentally and physically. You want me to love you? You want me to fuck you…? Would that make you happy? Would it make you love me?” Doppio rambled on and on, ripping your shirt off with strength he hadn’t had before.

You yelped, goosebumps forming on your skin as Doppio cackled, rubbing his face on your stomach, and into your cleavage poking out from your bra.

“Yes, let go for me! Show me every emotion, everything you’ve been holding back from me for so long- i need it, I demand it!” He snarled, splitting your nicest bra in half, and biting down on your neck, hard.

You screamed, legs kicking uselessly as the pain blurred your mind and you were operating purely on instinct. Doppio didn’t seem bothered in the least by it, you could still feel his laughter against your sore neck, as he sucked down on it, trying to bruise and mark you. His hands couldn’t help but find their way to your breasts, toying with them and squeezing them with admittedly little expertise. But he was a quick learner, making note of each little gasp and twitch according to how he touched you, and improving his technique from there. He twisted your nipples a bit roughly, already hard from the chilly air and sensitive to touch- you couldn’t help but moan a little in satisfaction. It had been awhile.

Doppio’s moans echoed yours, as he kissed his way down the crevice of your breasts, and licked each nipple in turn. You squirmed, not in fear or anger but pleasure, angry at yourself for letting this strange man win your body over so easily. Doppio kept his eyes on you at all times, studying your face to see how you felt. He’d had to watch you for so long from so far away, alone in your bedroom, or so you thought… it was time to use the knowledge he’d gained to make your body crazy for him.

You jumped at Doppio’s hands, cupping your groin through your pants, trying not to buck into his hands . It was getting harder and harder to deny him, though, why couldn’t you just-?

Doppio pulled your pants down to your ankles, taking your panties with it. He groaned audibly at the sight- your pussy was so wet and dripping, there was still a trail connected to your underwear.

“No, don’t-” You cried, snapping your legs shut, visibly scared at what was taking place again. Doppio was losing patience, crouching down and prying your legs open,

“Stop fighting me, y/n, you clearly want this!” He cried, eye twitching in annoyance. He managed to open your legs again, and buried his face into your pussy. He moaned, licking up a wet stripe against your labia, warm and puffy and so wet for him- he knew you would be, he knew you loved him.

Tears streaked down the sides of your face, this was so much and so intense. Your thighs clamped down on Doppio’s cheeks and neck, squeezing him as hard as you could. Not hard enough, apparently, as he just started giggling again through a full mouth and busy tongue “Ssho good, y/n, why have you been hiding thissh from mee~?” he moaned, tongue circling your clit. You flung your head back into the pillow, gripping the mysterious hands that held you for any source of strength or comfort.

Watching you whimper so pitifully with his head between your legs, obviously blissed out after being so needy and alone for so long, just did things to doppio. He loved the pained, fucked out expression on your face- you couldn’t even keep your eyes open as he snuck one, two fingers into your aching pussy. You whimpered so cutely, and it was all for him and him alone. Finally~

“Y/n, please, i can only hold back for so long, let me make sure it’s not painful… be good for me, please?” Doppio begged, grinding his hips into the mattress before he could help himself. Begrudgingly, you moved your thighs back just enough for Doppio to push them away, when he got a wonderful idea. King crimson, or what Boss had lent him of his stand to use, sensed his thought, and grabbed both your hands in one arm. Doppio pushed your thighs back and up, effectively bending your knees into your chest and displaying your pussy in such a beautiful way. You cried out, surprised by the sudden movements and embarrassed by how exposed you were, but there was nothing you could do about it. Doppio was just too strong.

The other free hand floated down, spreading your lips apart to give Doppio a nice view before pummeling two of his thick, strong fingers inside of you. You screamed, crying as the fingers curled directly into your sweet spot, massaging with robotic-like precision and speed. The sounds you were making were wet, animalistic, and you were quickly brought close to the brink.

“Perfect, y/n! Just like that, let yourself go! It makes me happy to see a side of yourself you never show anyone else- and you never will to anyone but me! Remember, I'm the one making you feel this good, right y/n? You couldn’t possibly find anything half as wonderful from anyone else but me! Me, got it?!” Doppio exclaimed, his voice cracking and becoming much darker, scarier. For a second, you could swear he looked like a different person entirely, wild, angry and dangerous- but you blinked and Doppio was just as before.

Doppio licked his lips, sweating and anxious, this was good enough to make you love him, right? This was what he had to do to make you happy? Boss’s words from before appeared in his head though, and he remembered how Boss had always been right before. Doppio trusted him, and was determined to win you over. Doppio let go of one of your legs-you seemed adequately distracted and restrained to get away from him- and unzipped his fly. In truth, he would’ve preferred to get all the way naked with you for the first time, so you could see and feel the real him as well, but clearly the two of you were too desperate and impatient for him to get fully naked. This time.

You whimpered at the sound of a zipper, feeling the fingers pull out of you. You heard the crinkle of a wrapped, and the muffled groan as Doppio probably rolled a condom onto himself, but you were too afraid to look. The strong floating hand, still wet with your juices, gripped your cheek and forced you to look at Doppio, staring you down with much more restraint and calm than he had been. Doppio kissed your cheek, then your lip, and pushed his warm cock achingly slowly, gently, into your waiting pussy.

You couldn’t help yourself from moaning, grabbing at the hands that held you, thrusting yourself onto Doppio’s hard and hot cock. He bit his lip, feeling you twitch and squeeze around him; he was trying so hard to be gentle for you, why were you still making things so difficult. He chuckled to himself, and motioned for King Crimson to let you go; finally you were beginning to relax and enjoy yourself, and he wanted to enjoy every bit of it.

Without thinking, you wrapped your arms around Doppio, holding him close to you. Your mind was a mess, your body even messier, you didn’t know what to think or do about your abducter/rapist fucking you so tenderly, and you were tired of fighting. So you let him fuck you, slowly and gently and way way emotionally. Doppio wiped away new tears you hadn’t realized were there, shushing you, “It’s okay, my sweet y/n. Just relax and let me do the work. Don’t fight it any more, just let go.” He whispered, pressing kisses into your lips and cheeks far too sweetly.

So you did, you relaxed and sank into the mattress, pulling Doppio down with you. He let go of your thighs, and held you tightly to him as he fucked-no, made love to you. He gradually picked up the pace, huffing and whispering words of admiration to you about your body, or how much he adored you. You took it all limply, the fight having gone out of you and desperate for comfort. The floating arms, which you had forgotten about, reappeared and stimulated your nipples and clit, bringing you closer and closer to the edge.

Doppio sped up as well, he knew this would have to end, but he wanted to make it last as long as possible. This was your first time together, after all. He wanted to make it special. Your legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him deeper and closer into you. You could feel the spongy head of his dick rub your inside so sweetly, you were starting to get addicted to the feeling. Doppio buried his head into your neck, mumbling nonsense as he pushed in deeper and deeper, faster and faster, as his restraint gave way to passion.

“Y/n I- I don’t know how much longer I can last, but-” He kissed you, as the stroking of your clit sped up. You groaned loudly, you were so close, “Just a bit longer, please~” You begged, biting your lip. Doppio took a deep breath, steeling himself as he was determined to make you come first. He pounded into you, urging you closer and closer, four sets of hands circling your body and drawing out noises and gasps from you out of your control.

“Almost there, please, almost~!!!” You cried, throwing your head back with a final sigh as you came hard and fast, your core heating up and washing over you as Doppio helped you ride it out with clit rubs. Your walls fluttering around him, the face that you made as you came from him, for him, it was too much and he quickly filled his condom inside of you, moaning even louder than you had as he thrust without abandon into your wonderful, most precious place. He didn’t want to stop, thrusting almost to the point of overstimulation, before he had to stop, and collapsed on top of you. He cooed and kissed his praises and thanks into your shoulder and skin, before he noticed the soft sound of you snoring. Poor thing, he chuckled to himself, you’d really worked yourself up.

He reluctantly pulled out, after indulging in 5 minutes of cuddling your sleeping body and listening to your heartbeat. Doppio cleaned the two of you off, and tucked you into the covers of the motel- now would be a good time to set up moving you into your new home. After all, The whole reason you were in the motel is because the moving company Boss had hired to move your things into the main base would take several hours to complete their job, and Boss didn’t want anyone seeing you or Doppio at home. Doppio ruffled your hair as you slept, pulling out his cellphone to check in with Boss and give him the full update he’d requested.

Tonight was going to be very busy.

#sluttbuttstuff #fic #mine #jjba #jojos bizarre adventure #jojo no kimyou na bouken #vento aureo #golden wind #doppio #vinegar doppio #yandere #reader #yandere x reader #doppio x reader #not sfw #yandere prompts

232 notes · View notes

soft-for-them · 4 years

Text

a cup of tea for the handsome man ♡ geordi la forge x reader

anon: OKAY concept: Geordi had a failed valentines date, and reader (who crushes hard) is like “bruh hang out with MEEE” a la Taylor swifts “you belong with me”

gender neutral reader, geordi ain’t straight,

gif doesn’t really match but it’s cute ok! not proof read.

‘Maybe you can accompany my friend Geordi La Forge today.’ Data bluntly asks as you both walk down a stone covered street.

‘Data, I swear to the stars, stop!’ you whine to your android friend who currently still wears his yellow dress uniform despite it being shore leave.

‘I am only asking because Geordi seems to be by himself.’ Data holds up the cat carrier that he holds, wiggling his finger to Spot, ‘Please calm down Spot.’

You are Lieutenant (Y/n) (l/n), though most people call you (y/n) and ever since you have met Data you have both been found friends. You are interested in robotics and androids, so the friendship came naturally.

However, Data doesn’t have many out of work friends. He mostly hangs around you, Spot and a very handsome man by the name of Geordi La Forge.

‘Just because I’m your friend does not mean I’m automatically his, Data.’ You tug at the draw strings of your oversized hoodie straighten the out strings.

‘Yes, but you are technically mutuals for you both have me as your friend.’ Data looks at you with a blank stare, ‘And you are normally alone so you need another friend.’

If you haven’t been friends with the yellow tinted man then you would have told him off.

It is somewhat true; you do spend a lot of time in engineering and most of your really good friends are stationed on different ships. But you want to spend you shore leave on earth doing something fun, not awkwardly trying to befriend Geordi La Forge, a man you have fancied for quite a while.

If Data has some more common sense the he would see your heart eyes towards his dear friend but he doesn’t; all he sees is a hermit engineer who needs a buddy whilst Data isn’t around.

‘Data, why has this come on? I’m alone most of the time!’ you have plans and it doesn’t involve trying not to out your crush to a clueless Geordi or Data.

‘I just do not want my friends be lonely.’

Data’s eyebrows frown as you two stop in front of a veterinary practice.

‘Just because me and Geordi will be alone when you take Spot to get her check-up doesn’t mean we will be lonely.’

‘But you will both be alone.’ he deliberates.

‘We will be fine Data.’ You place a hand on your friend’s arm, ‘If you want, we can all meet up after Spot’s check up and I can officially meet Geordi, ok?’

‘I would like that very much (y/n).’ Data sincerely smiles.

He nods his head and then walks into the small vets.

You shake you head in amusement at your dear friend’s worry as you begin walking down the street.

‘Data, data, data.’ You think with an amused smile blooming on your face.

For about ten minutes you wonder the streets aimlessly, looking at the plants that grown up the shop fronts and the old Roman roads. Benches are in the middle of the ‘roads’ that are really used for pedestrians to walk on, tram cars sliding by the painting like scenery.

Whilst wondering a small alleyway catches your eyes.

It’s not a dingy alleyway with bins and a dead end but it’s actually a little nook filled with cafes and small hobby shops.

Looking both ways you walk across the street into the alley, every bump of the pathway felt even in you tick soled trainers.

Passing a few shops your eyes land on a small round of metal tables, some filled with people, outside a small two-story café.

You walk in, a heartly woman automatically greeting you from the counter at the back. The place is very small and thin but it does not feel claustrophobic. There is a cottage core vibe to it, the place lit up by the huge widows at the front and the fairy lights shaped like hearts.

The downstairs seems to be the place to order food and drink, a peak of a small kitchen at the back can be seen from an open door past the counter.

‘Um hello.’ You say back to the woman whilst you wipe your feet on the welcome mat, ‘What’s good here?’

‘Well first are you allergic to anything my dear?’

You answer the question and tell the woman what kind of tea you like.

‘Well because today is Valentine’s day, we have our cake special that I think is perfect for you!’

You look at the slice of cake the woman points at in the little display case.

‘It’s freshly baked, I made it just this morning!’

‘Yeah, sure, it looks nice. I’ll have a slice.’ You need to indulge yourself every now and then.

She slides a cup of your favourite tea and a slice of cake to you. You pay with you card, leaving a good tip.

‘The upstairs is the best place sit.’ She says as you take your plate and cup.

With a nod you ascend the steps to the upstairs to see the prettiest room you’ve ever seen.

The room’s roof is a giant glass window and there is many potted plants that look like they’re growing up the walls. Tables are littered around, each one with a different flower on it, some customers are using the built in holo computer screens.

You find a small two four person table near the back and you sit down breathing in the faint smell of pollen that doesn’t actually tickle your nose into a sneeze.

‘Hum, could be fake plants?’ you think as you take a sip of your tea.

For a while you just eat and browse the holo screen at your table, emersed and doom scrolling through blogs about robotics.

You had sent a message to Data telling him where you are and telling him to come here when he was done with Spot’s check up.

It must have been half an hour at staring at the screen. You had finished the pink decorated cake and your tea was almost done as well.

With achy eyes you peer up and look around the room.

There seems to be the same people albeit a couple new faces.

In on corner to your right is a mother with her child who you hadn’t noticed, an older person sits clicking on old keyboard laptop and a new younger man sits waiting next to the giant window overlooking the alleyway.

Even though this man is far away you can tell that he’s a good looking man. Said person wears a short sleeve patterned button down reminiscent of the 1990’s, the blues stripes bold against the cottage core interior of the café. The shirt is tucked into some brown slacks, that are rolled up at the bottom and held up by a shiny black belt. Block coloured peek out from his trousers and equally shiny black shoes.

If you would try to pull off such a vintage outfit but all you ever wear is your work uniform or oversized hoodies, making you look like a in debt college student. Right now you look like a in debt college student in your Starfleet branded hoodie and shorts that are comfy but childish in colour scheme.

‘I bet this café attracts all the fashionable types.’ You think sipping the last of your tea only to spit out in surprise.

The man in the retro shirt turns around only to reveal a very familiar yellow and silver visor.

‘Fuck, he’s even more good looking!’ your mind becomes scrambled, ‘Was he always there? Does he know I’m here? Should I go over and say hi?’

Your eyes stay on Geordi as he keeps on peering out of the big window, him looking like he’s waiting for someone.

‘Maybe he’s waiting for Data?’ it’s a logical assumption that Data told him to meet him in the café you are in. A check up for a cat doesn’t take that long right?

You leave you cup and plate on you table and start to edge your way over to the handsome man.

You’re not sure if what you’re doing is right but you step next to his table, with a big smile on your face and hand raised up in a too enthusiastic wave.

‘Geordi La Forge, right?

Geordi’s snaps up to yours, his face looks slightly confused in that puppy kid of way.

‘Sorry, I’m (y/n), Data’s friend.’ you stop waving so you don’t look so odd, ‘Um, I saw you here and wanted to say that Data will be coming here after Spot’s vet appointment. Sooooo, if you want to join, my table is free.’

Whilst you happily talk Geordi’s face morphs into a sweet smile. You quickly look down to his two person table to see to sets of cups and two slices of heart themed cupcakes, clearly for another half.

‘Though you don’t have too if you have plans.’

‘He talks about you a lot.’ Geordi declares, ‘Too much sometimes.’

‘Well I am a brilliant person.’ you lean against the window trying to look cool but the hoodie you drown in just makes you look dishevelled.

There is an awkward pause before you just stop leaning as start walking away.

‘I see you might be busy, so I’m over here-‘ you point over to your table, ‘-yeah.’

With some more muttered pleasantries you shuffle back to your table hoping tha he doesn’t find you too weird. With you bum on the seat you wave you hand at the holo screen unlocking it from it’s sleeping state before quickly looking up to catch Geordi looking at you.

With another odd wave you hunch down and resume reading an article cybernetic enhancements in the medical field but every ten minutes or so you have to look up at Geordi.

One time you looked up he was staring out the window, another time he was stirring his drink like it was the most interesting thing in the world, and now you’re looking at him rapidly typing out something on a communicator.

With your tea and cake devoured you quickly stand up to go downstairs to order some more tea. You look around and hope that no one takes your table, the tope floor is pretty empty now, and the holo screen on the table is still on.

It takes about five minutes but you bound up the stairs with not one but two cups of tea.

Hurried you head over to Geordi’s table and slide him one of you cups, making the man look up to you with another look of confusion.

‘Hot tea turned cold isn’t the best so I got you another cup.’ and with another small wave you walk back your table.

‘Smooth (y/n), he’s going to like me now!’ a Cheshire cat grin blooms as you take a sip of you drink.

As you fangirl/fanboy over your ‘move’ a person slides in the seat opposite you.

‘Is it still ok to sit.’ Geordi asks holding his cup of tea.

‘Well you’re technically already sitting down.’ you turn of the holo screen with your hand, ‘But you can stay, if that’s what you’re asking.’

You look at Geordi, gaze unchanged, confidence oozing out of you.

‘I’d imagine that Data will be here soon.’ you lean forward a bit, ‘So we should acquaint each other before he does.’

‘I guess you already know who I am. I know who you are… thank you for the tea by the way.’

‘I don’t want to be a nosy so and so but why were you alone.’ You ask hoping you don’t sound rude.

‘I can ask the same thing to you.’ He quips back.

‘Had nothing to do and went exploring, found thing place. You?’ you press.

‘I got stood up.’ He plainly puts it, ‘Was chatting to someone in engineering and yeah…’

Geordi looks deflated as he gulps his drink.

‘Which dick stood you up, I can set my robot on them.’ he looks up at you with a bright smile.

‘You have a robot?’

‘It’s my thing.’

Another pause o silence happens before Geordi speaks.

‘Lieutenant James Sibell.’ as he says the name a disgusted scoff comes from you lips, your face distorted in disgusted.

‘That bastard man!’ you hand fly up in a comical rage, ‘Good job you have me to keep you company.’

Geordi laughs at your words, a small pit of joy growing in his heart, he must tell Data later that he has a good friend in you and that he should have introduced you two sooner.

Data step up the stairs of the café, spot in her cat carrier, and a slice of cake.

He only bought the cake out of curiosity, the cake having rainbow icing and little sugar heart shaped sweets on top.

When he gets to the top he automatically scans the room. His eyes land on a table near the back, his two closets friends chatting together, both sitting rather close.

i have no clue if this is good. it’s long-ish but that doesn't necessarily equate to it being the best.

please tell me if it’s good or not.

#geordi la forge x reader #geordi x reader #geordi la forge #star trek #star trek x reader #star trek the next generation

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schrijverr · 4 years

Text

Tight

Jonny gets pulled into a fox-hole by Bertie and Tim, who do not know he’s claustrophobic. They try to keep him calm during the attack and he confesses that he is immortal. They still love him

On AO3.

Ships: Bertie x Jonny x Tim

Warnings: claustrophobia, panick attack, war & Jonnys low self esteem. Tell me if I missed something or if you want me to tag anything!

~~~~~~~~~~~

The alarms started to blare above them, a microwave attack.

Bertie and Tim quickly looked around for a fox-hole and started to pull Jonny along, who cursed himself as he tried to get free, but the others were both taller and stronger, so his struggling was to no avail.

It wasn’t that he didn’t want to survive, he’d died enough times from such an attack to know it was unpleasant, it was more that he would much rather die than go into a fox-hole. You see, Jonny was claustrophobic and being stuck in a small space for a few minutes seemed like hell.

If it were any other day he would sneak off with The Toy Soldier, claiming they would hide together, while in reality it kept watch by his corpse until he was revived.

However, The Toy Soldier had disappeared a few months back and last Jonny heard of it, it was on its way to become Field Marshall, which was good for it. But bad for Jonny, since he was now here, getting pulled into a fox-hole that was not really made for three by Tim and Bertie.

Tim and Bertie had quickly caught on to his unwillingness, so he was situated between them, while they held onto him to stop him from leaving.

“What the hell, Jonny.” Tim said, “Why would you fight? You can die out there.”

Jonny didn’t respond, instead he was trying to focus on his breathing and trying to ignore how small the space was and how easily he could suffocate. He anxiously started to drum his fingers against his leg and humming the first song that came to mind.

“Is that- is that the recruiter song?” Tim asked perplexed when it was the only response to his question.

He was at Jonnys back while Bertie was in front of him, so Tim couldn't see the panicked expression on his face in the dim alarm light of the fox-hole, but Bertie could. He asked: “Hey, are you alright, Jonny?”

Jonny gave an affirming but stressed hum, before he squeaked: “Jup, completely fine me, never better.”

Well, that was obviously a lie. The worry in the other two grew as the tapping and humming continued. Bertie remembered how Jonny had melted that one time Tim got a knot out of his hair, so he tentatively reached up and carded a hand through Jonnys hair.

Immediately the slight bouncing stopped, they hadn’t even noticed Jonny was doing it until it stopped, and the tapping slowed down.

Bertie continued petting Jonnys hair, while he asked: “It’s okay, it’s okay. Can you tell us what’s wrong? What set you off like that?”

It was silent for a moment and Tim and Bertie were just starting to think Jonny wouldn't answer at all, when he whispered: “Is so tight and small.”

“The fox-hole?” Tim asked.

They could feel the small nod against their chests as Jonny started to tremble and humming louder.

Bertie picked up the petting again while Tim tried to make Jonnys tense shoulders relax for a bit. He whispered: “It’s alright, Jonny-love, it’s okay. It’ll be over before you know it, just breathe and relax, okay. You did this before, you can-”

“No.”

“No?” Tim repeated.

“I’ve not done this before.” Jonny admitted, to hell with trying to seem normal to keep them by his side. If they really loved him as much as they said, they wouldn't mind immortality, right?

“What makes you say that, dear?” Bertie asked, “I know for a fact that this is not your first microwave attack.”

Jonny took a shaky breath and said: “Remember how I always joke I’m immortal?”

He didn’t dare to look up and see what expressions the other two wore as they told him they both remembered the jokes.

“Well, they’re not really jokes. I, uhm, I usually just die during these because it’s better than having to be locked into one of these.” Jonny explained.

It was quiet for a moment, when neither reacted Jonny got worried and started babbling: “I know I probably should have told you both and I swear I was gonna, but then I thought maybe you’d be mad at me and I don’t want you to be mad at me, but now I’m stuck in here and that’s really not good for me, because small spaces are fucking terrifying and I would rather die than deal with this, literally, it’s not like it matters if I die anyway, you kn-”

“Oh my poor dear.” Bertie breathed out, “That’s not- that’s not- oh no.”

“Wha?” Jonny was confused.

“Just let him process for a moment, Jonny-love.” Tim kissed the top of his head.

“Is he mad?” Jonny asked fearfully.

“No, of course not, he’s just coming to terms with the fact that you died painfully each time while we thought you were safe with TS, it’s not healthy to do that, darling.” Tim explained, “I’m also not entirely pleased with that fact, but I get why you did it.”

“But I get back, so it’s not an issue, right?” Jonny sounded confused, which broke Tims heart.

“Just because you get back doesn’t mean it isn’t painful, dear.” Bertie joined the conversation, “You shouldn’t let yourself be killed and get hurt, because you can take it. God, can I- can I hug you right now?”

“Please.” Jonnys voice broke a bit.

Immediately two arms were around him, it was a bit hard to maneuver since it was such a cramped space, something Jonny was trying very hard to ignore. So far the stress of being rejected and kicked out had partly overridden his claustrophobia, but with that soothed, it came back with full force.

A small sob made its way out of his throat before he could stop it and once he had started it was hard to stop.

Tim and Bertie just held him while he cried and waited for this all to be over. He wanted to be out of here, he wanted to be held and he just wanted everything to be okay again. His gasped trying to get enough air into his lungs, but it wasn’t really working.

Bertie loosened his grip and asked: “Am I holding you too tight?”

“N- no,” Jonny sniffled, “rather know it’s you than no space, you’re comfy.”

He burrowed his face into Berties chest and held on tight to the others uniform, behind him Tim was massaging his neck, his soft reassuring whispers slightly frantic.

Jonny was sure he was going to explode from exhaustion or stress when the alarm light turned off, signaling the attack was over. He nearly collapsed in relief, but just as he was about to climb out of the fox-hole they heard some shots being fired.

“I’m so sorry about this, love.” he heard Tim whisper behind him, as he stopped Jonny from getting out and put a hand over his mouth.

The hand was a good call, because Jonny terrified cry was muffled by it. Tim never felt like such a bad person than in that moment, holding the small trembling form of Jonny as he refused to let him get out.

Seconds seemed to pass like hours as the fighting moved above them, first right on top and then further along. The moment he deemed it safe, Tim released Jonny and helped him get out as fast as he could.

Bertie and he climbed out after him and rubbed his back soothingly as he sat on hands and knees gasping for air desperately and crying softly.

“I’m so sorry, Jonny-love, I’m so so so sorry about that, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” Tim whispered.

Beside him Bertie said: “It’s okay, dear, it’s all over, you made it, it’s done, you don’t have to go back, you’re done.”

It seemed to last an eternity, before Jonny had calmed down enough to be able to talk. He swallowed a few times, then croaked: “I’m okay, I’m fine, just tired.”

Tim immediately offered him his canteen with water, a guilt pressing down on him. Jonny took it gratefully and drank a few huge gulps, before Bertie grabbed it from him and asked: “How are you feeling?”

“Tired.” Jonny mumbled, then he added, “And still a bit freaked, honestly.”

“Do you want to sit for a moment?” Bertie asked.

Jonny answered and they just sat silently in the sand of the moon for a few moments, leaning against the side of the tunnel with Jonny between them. He was still humming slightly, but he seemed less tense with every passing second.

“I’m sorry about that.” Tim broke the silence after a while.

“Wha?” Jonny asked, confused.

“Well, I forced you into that fox-hole and then held you there, it’s my fault you had to go through that, so sorry.” Tim explained.

If it weren’t pitch dark, Tim could have seen Jonny blush quite heavily as he replied: “You just wanted to keep me safe, it’s my own fault I didn’t tell you both about the whole immortality thing.”

“Yeah, we’re still going to talk about that when you feel better.” Bertie said, “It’s not okay that you think you can just die all the time just because you get back. It matters to me that you die and I’m going to make sure you don’t think your life isn’t worth that much.”

“I second that.” Tim agreed, before Jonny could interject with some sort of self-deprecating comment.

“But lets get you back to camp safely first, okay.” Bertie said more lighthearted.

“Here, I’ll carry you.” Tim offered.

“I just told you I’m immortal, you’d think that you’d understand that I should be the one protecting you two.” Jonny grumbled, not accepting the piggy-back ride.

“And you just had a panic attack, so I think we’re justified. Now, just accept Tims offer and lets get going, I think I still have a bit of booze left back at camp.” Bertie replied.

Well, Jonny couldn’t really say no to that, beside getting carried and cared for for a bit sounded really appealing right now. He could let his guard down for a moment, he was safe here with them. It was going to be okay.

#RR writing #The Mechanisms #the mechs #jonny #gunpowder tim #bertie (the mechs)#bertie x tim x jonny #Bertie x gunpowder Tim x Jonny d'ville #tw: claustrophobia #tw: panic attack #jonnys low self esteem #tw: war

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doobler · 3 years

Text

Haunted

Aileron stared up at the dingy popcorn ceiling, absentmindedly running his hands up and down his arms. He was naked, save for a pair of briefs and his helmet. Even now, alone in this motel room, wearing it made him feel safe. If no one knew who, or what, he was, he could revel in anonymity.

"It's a gift, one that'll make you happy for years to come."

Aileron winced at the memory. Recently, his past had been haunting him more than usual. He tried to force sleep mode, hoping it would chase away the daydreams. Instead, it became a nightmare.

+++

Aileron was excited. He'd only come online an hour ago but something in his code had him squirming excitedly. A rap came on his box, followed by a soft shushing sound. He knocked back once and tried to stay still.

He was being wheeled around, that he knew for certain. The tight space didn't make him feel claustrophobic. He knew he was a surprise and that only filled him with a sense of boundless joy. The box came to a stop and he was tilted upright.

"Good morning, Mr.Castle," That was the voice of the technician who'd brought him here, Dr.Jhaveri. "I've brought you something, per Dr.Kurusu."

"Is that so?"

Aileron shuddered. The other voice was so deep and rich and warm.

"It's a gift, one that'll make you happy for years to come," Dr.Jhaveri began unlatching the locks on the case. "Dr.Kurusu is a big fan of your work and she feels like you've been underappreciated. This is a means to show her thanks."

"That banquet last month wasn't enough?" Oh, he had a lovely laugh.

"This is much more than just a banquet, Mr.Castle."

The case door swung open and Aileron's eyes took a moment to recalibrate. He stepped down onto the carpet, trying to take in as much of the room as he could. It was an office of some kind, a nice one, with a wall made up entirely of floor-to-ceiling windows. It wasn't modern but it wasn't old-fashioned, something in between with comfy office chairs, an elegant bookcase on one wall, and a little nook beside a wall-mounted TV.

Standing in front of a large mahogany desk was no doubt the owner of the handsome voice. He wasn't young but he certainly wasn't old, a smattering of grey hair at his temples and lines that wrinkled at the corners of his eyes. He was clean shaven, somewhere around 6'2", maybe 6'3". He wore a pressed dress shirt tucked into khakis but his shoes were a bit worn, casual sneakers that a skateboarder might wear.

His eyes were stunning, a beautiful greyish-blue, and his smile was wide and brilliant.

Dr.Jhaveri cleared her throat.

"Good morning," Aileron recited, hands folded behind his back. "My name is Aileron. I was built by Dr.Homun Kurusu for the purpose of being a companion android. I was built for you and only you, Mr.Castle. It's a pleasure to finally meet you."

Mr.Castle's laugh wasn't bitter but unbelievable. He wiped at his eye, shaking his head.

"Is the good doctor trying to tell me I'm lonely?" He chuckled then sighed. "Well, it's nice to meet you. Aileron, was it?"

He extended out his hand and Aileron hesitated. He stepped forward to meet Mr.Castle. His grip was firm and warm.

"I don't know if I can accept this," Mr.Castle's face turned serious. "This seems very... Extravagant and expensive, and Kurusu Corp. already does so much for us--"

"See it her way," Dr.Jhaveri held up her hand, cutting him off. "You'll be the very first trial in our experimental Companion Droid line. Keep him for a week, then report back to us by next Monday. If you're unhappy, we'll take Aileron back and scrap his part of the project."

"And if I'm happy?" Mr.Castle quirked his brow.

"Then he's all yours."

+++

Aileron shot up. His HUD was going wild, his sensors sparking. He grabbed at his body, his arms, his chest. A line of code had him hyperventilating. He whipped off his helmet. The cold stagnant air of the motel against his face had him grounded.

Right. Of course.

He stood, making his way to the bathroom. He flipped on the flickering light and faced his reflection for the first time in months. Even though his face couldn't age, he looked haggard. He poked at his synthetic cheeks, pulling down his eyelid to stare back at his dark eyes. Christ. He looked like shit. Was what the point of making such a human-like robot anyways?

Aileron resisted the urge to smash the mirror and crawled back into bed.

He wouldn't sleep any time soon.

#aileron #greg castle #my oc #oc #tiny fic #👀

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11a-wolf · 3 years

Text

Literature Analysis

11A Wolf 🐺

Jeffery Deaver is the best-selling author of over forty novels, three collections of short stories, and a nonfiction jurisprudence book. His novels have been translated into 25 languages and sold in 150 countries. Jeffery Deaver is a mystery and crime writer from the United States. An introduction to his book afraid, Marissa was a model on the run who wanted to abandon her profession and pursue a career in fashion design. She eventually moved to Milan, where she met Antonio. Antonio was muscular and trim, with thick dark hair and a ready smile. He claimed to be in the computer field. Marissa felt comfortable and pleasant in Antonio's company. The sudden apparition of twin boys about the age of ten and an older woman named Olga. Olga inquired about Marissa's relationship with Lucia. Marissa, of course, declined, but she was intrigued by who Lucia was. During the interval, Antonio took Marissa to his so-called vacation home. They walked into a mill, where a child died from injuries sustained while playing soccer. Marissa was terrified at first, but Antonio consoled her. Marissa was astonished since the interior was very appealing. As time went by, Marissa grew suspicious. Still, she proceeded to kiss Antonio even though Antonio was hiding something and moderately psychotic. The thesis statement in the story is that the words "fear" and "afraid" are the key points and the theme of this story, and our main character, Marrisa, has a lot of fears that give the readers thrills. In my own observation, Marrisa has 5 fears and those fears will be explained in the following paragraphs.

The first fear out of the five is fear of the unknown which is the tendency to be afraid when a person has no information on any level about something you face, it includes anything or anyone that's unfamiliar or unknown. In the story, Marrisa does not have any information about where they are going. In the beginning , when they were in the car she asked Antonio where they are, since “she knew only the center of Florence” (p.136) and “was soon hopelessly lost” (p136) as she keep her eyes outside on the window car to “gave her a clue of the direction they were traveling” (p.137). Then as they stop and park, while Antonio was out to do an errand, she saw two twin boys unsmiling staring at her, which made her “shiver at unnerving sight”(p.139) she also met Olga that made her “gasped in shock”(p.139).

Those are in terms of something or anything, but in terms of anyone, Marrisa “had not known Antonio very long”(p.137) since “they met in Florence a month ago”(p.137).and on that day in their vacation, when he was driving, he made “Another series of sharp turns, Marrisa made an uneasy laugh at Antonio’s aggressive driving”(p.136), Marrisa also was ”troubled all the more troubled when he abruptly skidded to a stop at curb.” (p138) and after those other events Marissa finally asked, her voice was uneasy”(p.141) of where they were. Which shows that she was uneasy of Antonio’s “mystery and solemnity he’d been displaying”(p.141) because that is not “The old Antonio” (p.141). This shows that Antonio does not really act that way before and only just displaying this type of behavior when they went on their vacation.

These current events create uncertainty and uneasiness on Marrisa and the readers. With no information of the settings and the character, the thrill keeps on rising.

Second, fear of being vulnerable. Marrisa hated being vulnerable, even though she herself was vulnerable. Her father controlled her, forcing her to be a business woman, and make her work everyday. And at the end of the story, she was nearly naked, trapped inside a cell without a cellphone or weapon, at complete mercy of a mad man with a knife, making her vulnerable, thinking she is a fool. If we were in the shoes of Marrisa, would we feel fear and vulnerable?

Third, the fear of others' lack of self-control, which prevents people from fully accessing their inner selves and leads to psychosis. Psychopaths are feared because they have no self-control. Being pursued by psychopaths can turn into a phobia or trauma, which can be difficult to forget because memories can last a lifetime. And for another thought, who will not be afraid if someone close to us acts strange and suddenly threatens us? Which is why Marissa finds it difficult to convince Antonio that she is not Lucia.

The part when Marissa noticed the wine cellar door was open. She went down to the wine cellar and glanced until she saw the soccer ball where she remembered the boy and the robe that she was wearing was also worn by Lucia. She suddenly panicked and planned to escape until Antonio stood there with a sharp knife as he wanted to act psychotic to trigger Marissa's fear. While Marissa was still trembling in fear, she exclaimed, "I'm not Lucia!". At this point, her fear was truly grasped by her own body. The experience is genuinely terrifying where Marissa does not even hope to survive. This is an example of fear that Marissa experienced when Antonio is out of control.

Fourth, fear of lacking control of oneself. Before all the commotion took place, she looked down the bridge near the mill, watching the stream flow. As she observed as if when people are looking at the deck and experiencing it, and as she thinks if she is going to jump her heart was beating so fast after a moment he said that a boy died here before they owned the mill and it was like ball the rolled them into the water and sucked in the gate of water and wedged them upside down but they see a crosses and a flowers that appear from nowhere. She feels the urge to jump but was stopped by Antonio, telling her he knows she has the urge to jump down the stream. That's where she lacks control of herself. And when she finds out that her grappa wine was drugged, she snapped and panicked to escape but was stopped by Antonio, holding a carving knife. She was relieved when she saw the interior was comfy and cozy, peacefully toast their long weekend. While watching the mix and whisk and assemble. He set the food out and they ate with a leisurely dinner and after that they had difficulty finding a period accessory to restore the mill. As Marissa walks into her small intimate room and sits into her coach she hears a step that is going into her room she fills glasses with a liquor and she knows that Antonio does have a good taste when it comes to an expensive distillation.

Fifth, fear of suspicious things or surroundings.It happens when you have a gut feeling of someone hiding something suspicious or feeling uneasiness in your surroundings. And If someone you know acts suspicious or hides things, we would also feel curious and uncomfortable just like Marissa.Which is why Antonio keep making an excuse but Marissa did not believe him when she found out what he was hiding and saw the painting of Lucia downstairs.In the story, Marrisa always feels uncomfortable by everything around her, and those things are like thrill icons to us readers.In the gothic mill, there is nearby white cross memorial of a dead boy as she feels uncomfortable. There are a lot more suspicious events that happened, In the part of the story where an old lady with yellow eyes tells us that Marrisa looks like Lucia who can capture human souls and place them in her dolls.

The dark windowless cell with blood with a doll inside that makes Marissa claustrophobic makes us readers feel the thrill and scared for Marissa. Marissa panicked and thought that she was going to die, until she heard Antonio calm her down and said “It is alright Marissa. Do not worry. There is a light switch behind the loose on the left of the door. Turn it on. Read the note inside the hidden doll.”, which made Marissa confused and shocked by what he said. She wondered (what happened) and followed his order but us readers want to know what was written on that note. At that moment she did not see where Antonio was so she looked around but he was not there.She heard a sound of a car engine outside, she was curious about what it was so she looked at the window and suddenly realized that he disappeared into the parking lot driving away with his car.

Then she went outside to look at what was going on and found a suitcase and purse. She hesitated for a moment but started to read the note. In the note Antonio explained everything about what she wanted to know and why he acted so suspicious, because he wanted to help her overcome her fear.In the note, he said "You are given 3 choices to call. First is a car that will take you to the train station to go back, Second is local police distinct, Third is Antonio's number". After she read the note, now finally understands why Antonio did that to her . The fear that she experiences in the story is unbearable and terrifying; it makes us readers feel bad for her.

Fear is a primal, natural, and powerful human emotion. It involves both a universal physiological reaction and a strong individual emotional reaction. Fear warns us that there is a threat of harm, whether it is physical or psychological. Experiencing fear is nothing to be ashamed of, but we should know how to handle it professionally as this is our form of weakness. One day you have to overcome your fears in order to live life happily and peacefully. Don’t let fear hold your future accomplishments or victories. For us to overcome these fears, we have to determine or understand our fears. There are many types of fear. Here are some examples of fears, innate fears, identity fears, and lastly, love and connection fears.

Marissa is constantly terrified of doubting anything that occurs within her. She is terrified of practically everyone, but she is not selfish and possesses a delicate or soft heart, which is uncommon. Despite the fact that Marissa was forced to take over her family's business and needs to divorced from her husband, she continues to strive to hold on to the responsibilities that her family and husband lack. Although being terrified is unavoidable, nothing will happen if fear comes to our minds first rather than taking action to escape a tragedy.

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muffindaddystyles · 4 years

Text

(CLANDESTINE CHAPTER TWO)

ᗩᑭᑭOIᑎTᗰᗴᑎT, ᖇᗴᗪ ᐯᗴᒪᐯᗴT ᗩᑎᗪ ᗰᑌᖴᖴIᑎՏ

𝑯𝒂𝒓𝒓𝒚

Rhythmically mellifluous waves of notes echoes after bouncing back from anile theatre's walls, the trill getting softer the more I firmly place my chin over the tail piece.

Eye lids slip shutting at the flurries of heart chasing the last cadences, pinky shivering as the middle and ring finger pushes the string down while the bow touches through the strings simultaneously producing the last chords.

Feels like a voyage over a baby leaf that's leading me through a pallid wind.

My chest heaving vigorously and lifting my jaw from the violin my head snapped in the direction of loud claps flowing. After a hectic performance the seats went empty and instead of going backstage I tried to play a melody for myself.

I was so lost finding my way through strings that didn't even noticed when Azi came. He's the owner of this old hideously beautiful theatre, his love for arts has this place still running without compliance knowing else it would have left baren just like the other popular theatres they shut years ago.

"Well done Harry, people seemed to love your performance last night and today." A smile quenching from my inners causing the bottom lip to tuck in between my teeth.

A feeling like no other spiralling around my ribcages, this's all I ever wanted.

"They were properly soused into your magic and we know what that means, shit loads of money." I remained quite putting my violin and bow aside while he spoke with a tobacco cigar rolled in between his lips.

I never wanted to play for money but nor do I've problem if we're getting it because half of the people in theater needs it. They deserve it.

It's not their fault they've to die in return of loving the devotedness that's gifted naturally.

Their talent and adroitness is the only thing keeping them in this world even though they've to remain veiled from the ordinary people.

Azi drags the stash of money on the table in my direction causing me to shake my head in refusal, "you know that I don't need this money. Save it for the renovation of theatre before we all get buried deep under it." He laughs lungs rumbling from his old age.

For God's sake the ceilings are about to cripple and chandelier might bonk my head one day.

"Or' maybe double pay our ballerina she was prepossesing last night." The twitch of his wrinkles at the corners of eyes smoothed down sadly and he sighed loudly piercing a hole in my stomach.

Anticipation wrapped around my head shoving me into the sea of worry where I'm finding it difficult to process, "what happened-" my words choking in my windpipes when he cuts me off revealing the horror information.

"She was abducted last night, her body was found shot near the suburb of where she lives." Everything's feeling claustrophobic around me and I keep on gawking him in astonished dread.

She was one hell of the great dancers, the only ballerina of our theatre. She didn't not deserved this; fuck it nobody does. I refuse to believe.

Fuck this government. Fuck this stupid world.

Gripping my hair from roots I looked him straight in the eyes, "Tell me if her family needs any help." Then the realization dawned upon me like a heavy dust she never had a family. This theatre, her skills were her only family.

"Harry my boy listen I know you'll take it as a hard toll but believe me we can't do anything for what has happened, go home have a rest you've a performance in the coming month." I was taken aback when he hugged me assuring me like a father would do, not utterly sure how to respond to interactions like these I raised my hands several times only to let them fall back.

Memories of her on tips dancing beautifully on the stage displaying infront of me as I stored my violin into case putting it aside.

We weren't close. But the few times we had exchange of words in the middle of lunch breaks and her full concentration on my foolish jokes was worth than any friendships I ever had; which I unfortunately never had.

Without even noticing the whispers let out of my chest, "I'll miss ya." Never thought you could yearn to have a single glimpse of people last time even though they were barely in your life.

I didn't changed into comfortable clothes letting the flashy suit stick to my skin, so the weigh of it will keep on making me realize that the world has no place for us.

A sacrifice for living praise.

The alley outside's pitch dark with the sun roguishly trying to dawn from the horizon.

Azi Theatre's situated at the most lifeless spot in the city possible, you've to walk through several hidden allies to reach there.

While, walking past the streets and avoiding to ruin my trousers by splashing my boots into puddle my brain havoced with unnecessary thoughts.

Thousand of faces with erastz beauty passing in mili seconds on these vast fulgurant billboards their mocks appearing like arrows to my already wounded guts; though it's all in my head it's still crawling under my skin.

A peek of cognisance from the day she made me ate her red velvet muffins dizzied around in my mind painting sorrow over me.

Even though I protested with my nonsical excuses she won ending up handing me one of her perfectly shaped muffin on my palm with a huge grin.

Just like that alot of people's smiles in my life petered out in the lost pocket of my mind.

In the littlest remembrance of her I made route to the small bakery situated two blocks away from the building I live in. The city's sleeping the only thing's shop's boards blinking and hazy bakeries showing through the thick fog.

It's open twenty four hours seven. The sky tweeked with ribbons of brume and the digital clock showed 5:00 sharp in the early dawn the large glass windows fogy from weather. The counter lady's wrapped into a comfy blanket trying not to fall asleep.

The bell chimed startling the cute old lady when I stepped inside passing by the wooden counter, "uhh..hi sorry to disturb. I'll look in myself." She nodded slumping back into her seat soon about to knock off.

Strolling in between the squeezy aisles my eyes roamed over empty refrigerators ceasing to the one at the far corner.

There in the transparent domed box are four cherry-red muffins attracting every dull view of bakery towards themselves. They're perfectly shaped and snow-flaked into red coconut shudders but failed to water my mouth.

I've no appetite to eat them. Her's used to be baked into undescribeable funny shapes but atleast I had a company while chomping them in one bite.

A reel of same memory binging and before it could permanently imprint in my brain I cleared my throat raising my pointy finger as a habit, "I'll have these!"

We said in a unison. Hold on. We? Am I that exhausted that I've started to hallucinate.

My head snapshoting towards the person from whom the feminine voice billowed in the dense warm air.

Resplendent. Florid and kaleidoscopic were the first words that striked my confused mind when my vision raked from the faux suede ankle boots richer in pigment than the red velvet muffins resting inside the refrigerator; then straight towards to meet their eyes.

Her gaze projecting warmth in this wimtertide and out of curiosity I met her eyes to recognize their colour.

Golden syrup. They're like the glassed honey pool that has squeezed the bee in the syrup lake as if it's greed for honey became it's trap, hazel speckles caged inside the rim of irises flickering with her slightest of eye movement.

We both keeps on looking at eachother the morning peace surrounding us too unsure how to break the spell.

She's wearing a cerise peach long trench wool coat a sweet rose enamel pin attached to where her heart is. Her nose and ears pink from the cold outside, but her lips plump from under the translucent violaceous bubble gum coloured gloss.

Burnette tresses of hair loose till her covered shoulders, the peach tealed beanie intact on her head.

The women standing infront of me is in abstract contrast to the pastels of the bakery and the luster of gray buildings out of these bakery walls.

The pastelish hues still prominent in her and crimson peaked up my neck at the fact that she caught me intriguing her by my peer.

Boldly her eyes remained fixated at my suit that's very exotic for strolling into a bakery. She might think so I'm a bellend idiot.

The cashier lady came to us yawning placing her hands on her hips done with two strangers just looking at eachother but she doesn't know that both of them are inquisitive of what the other is wearing this early where anybody's barely awake.

"We've the only box, decide it quick kiddos that who'll get it." The lady yawned for fiftieth time taking the box of muffins out of refrigerator.

"I came here first and I was the first one to ask." I frowned for an obvious reason and the lady was about to give me the box when a honeyed voice again melted in my ears.

Now I really wanna hear her talk for a long time, "but I pointed at it first!" She whines softly jutting her lower lip.

"But vocalisation matters the most." I quipped arching my brow at her and she glared me but her beatific personality radiating naturally from her is breaking the bitter demeanour she's trying to pull towards me.

"Kay. We can leave it upto the rock, paper and siscorss." She smirks mishveously raising her brows several times in a challenge.

Her tongue poking out from her glossy lips with her one leg straight and other bended perpendicular she placed her on foot over another balancing with only one leg like a flamingo.

The cute small lady groaned, "are you really gonna do this?" Our eyes widening and chuckles spiraling when we once again we said 'yep.' In unison.

She was ready to launch her hand in a paper and mine was stone so I quickly interrupted looking down at her legs, "why are you standin' like a swan?" Her eyes slitting into a squint and lips shrinking into a pout.

Tilting her chin towards me and standing in the same position as before just the difference now's that her hands are on her hips to convey the offend.

She ruched her lower lip inside her mouth to stop from giving a smile, so she's a buoyant person...

"Because maybe I am?" And she doesn't have simple answers to straight questions. Our fists still raised into air and the cashier lady hissed this time ready to throw hands.

"You kids are worse than my grandchildren!" She gasped comically at the words of short lady.

"That's very mean of you..." I'm clearly surprised that she isn't one bit influenced by lady's sharpness instead she's further engaging in a conversation that will result in the loss of time for all of us. "...and your daughter wouldn't be very happy to know."

"Kay. Back to where we left." She quickly turned her head towards me her complete concentration struck over me making my stomach go fluttery and funny.

"Uhm..yes- rock, paper, siscorss!" I never thought I'd play a game with some stranger who's looking so cozy and comfy in the early dew, for some muffins in the middle of empty bakery when I scarcely interact with people.

"Yes! I won." I punched the air when my siscorss cut her paper and her jaw went slack for a moment.

What the fuck you're doing Styles!?

Out of shyness and awkwardness I abruptly combed back my curls rubbing my hand down the nape of my neck not meeting her eyes.

The lady handed me the box with a boring expression while Hers stayed ticked to it, "anyway I don't even like red-velvet muffins." Yeah. Grapes are sour when fox can't get it.

She was about to walk away near to step out of shop. I want to call her but don't know her name; so out of sheer rampage I blurted out the only word that the department of my brain could manage at the time.

"Swan!" She halted in her tracks torso turning and with her chin atop of her shoulder she looked back at me smiling coyly.

"Yes. Sparkly?" She's probably calling me that because of my glittery black suit and I'm sure my ribcages did something at the name. Getting made fun of doesn't sound very good; but it is at the time.

Today's an odd day.

"Um..we can share if you want to?" Her grin etching to the corner of her lips and she jumped excitedly clasping her hands together,"Really!?"

A timid smile crawling over my features watching her get delighted at the littlest of fact. "Yes. There are two pair of muffins we both can have one pair if you like to?" I told her and she bobs her head while going towards the cash counter, patting the counter with a huge grin indicating me to put the box down.

"Your total's $8.25." We both payed half of the total price and I shoved my hands into my trouser's pockets scrutinizing my surrounding while the annoyed cashier lady packed two muffins separately for one of us.

And she rummaged through her wallet which has alot of ebullient key-chains hanging from it, who's this girl?

Why I've never seen her here before? and I've never seen a person this cheerful in the crowd of prosaic people of city.

The lady handed us our respective delights with a roll of eyes and I was the first one to take mine and quickly sprinted out of there, because I didn't know what else to do.

A whiff of pungent vanilla, mulberry pomegranate sprouting with cocoa made it's way in my nostrils when I passed beside her. Her fragrance's divergent.

You know a scent that addictively clouds your senses but it's so rare you never get to smell it again; but if out of nowhere you get to it brings back nostalgia for no reason, she smelled like that.

When I glanced back the two women were still watching my weirdness in amusement through the glass windows of bakery.

It appeared like her rose enamel pin winked at me from far.

Mick was tangled up into cassette tapes when I stepped inside my flat, the tiny bugger he is jumped atop me straddling me to the floor.

"You're lookin' like a disco ball. No need to be so proud." Instead he gave a long slicky lick to my cheek woofing at me.

He's being too cheeky but it wouldn't last long when I'll take him for a checkup. He fucking envy his doc. I'm already sensing sympathy seeking whining from him, happens every year.

Shaking my head I grunted skiding from underneath him but he's fast and climbed up in my lap while I struggled to open the box.

The minute red hilly muffins were infront of me it reminded me of honey the ooze of golden, treacle eyes. Her eyes.

Shit. It's getting hard to get rid of her delicate image that's playing like an aesthetic reel in the back of my mind.

I was jerked into reality when Mick lurched greedily eating the delcious muffin from my hand in one bite, leaving his slickness at the tip of my fingers. Before he could attack my muffin too I quickly grabbed it.

"Mick you wouldn't believe what happened today!?" I spoke in an animated voice scratching his sweet spot under his ear my mouth full of red coconut and he looked up at me with his sick puppy eyes.

"We wouldn't have been able to eat these if I wouldn't have won from...." I stuttered pondering over the fact that the nameless peachy coat girl's too stubborn and wouldn't leave my fuzzy thoughts alone, "...from swan."

Mick just barked at me going to his sleeping pillow and I practically rubbed my eyes with the heels of my palms to bring myself to some consciousness from that bloody bakery fantasy.

When the proper morning hit I made myself breakfast and the longer I stared it the more it impeded my appetite.

With one hand offering Mick treats to deceive him into the idea that I'll take him to the park for a walk which instead will end up in a clinic's room and other hand diligent in searching word puzzles over the newspaper my jaw worked to chew the sandwich.

Throwing a sweater over my head and slipping into white washed jeans quickly I got ready to take Mick with me.

I had to scoop Mick up in my arms when he sprawled onto footpath of veterinary clinic the second he realized what was about to happen.

The kid leaning against the wall giggled loudly watching me practically drag my dog across the floor because he's too socially akward, fucking wow.

The waiting area's already full of pupils alongside their pets, someone stood up from the last bench and taking the advantage of opportunity I strided towards it sitting at it's edge.

Fifteen minutes passed since I've been caressing and comforting my scared bud, tucking his crown under my chin to make him at rest.

There's loud raucous noise when the elevator doors to the floor we're at opened wide gaining everyone's attention and when the person in tizzy strided inside the corridor I had to look at her twice.

What the fuck she's doing here? She never owned a pet and the one for whom she'll get this worried about.

Lyida's exactly same, her eyes bright as always and she has become more striking from when she was with me.

But she's not mine now, she never was.

She lurched over the receptionist with the box in her hand and distress of having to meet her eyes creeped inside me. The girl beside me threw daggers at me when I stood up hastily causing the whole bench to shake. I apologised for the disturbance.

My hands fumbled with the knob of nearest door right beside me and I had to shush Mick sternly when he kept on whining.

Heavy puff of breaths escaping my lungs when I stumbled inside some empty doctor's room shutting the door behind me, back meeting against the wooden plank of door, cold sweat breaking under the nape of my neck and I blinked several times taking in my surrounding.

I'm a weak son of a bitch.

It's fuckin' gruelling to be in her presence. It's hellish to meet her sympathetic gaze for me and I'm a bastard who's pathetic as hell.

I have to be away, I've to go right now. Trotting towards the large window panes I uncliped them stepping outside the shared balcony of room.

There's a drain pipe so I can climb it down to the ground and get the hell away from here.

Maybe, Mick was right it was a bad day and idea to come here.

Adjusting Mick inside my armpit I threw my one leg over the rail and then the second, my breath wavering as I gripped the rail tighter taking baby steps towards the plastic pipe.

The smack of air stinging my eyes while the cars are being parked infront of me at the parking lot.

A delucet voice clamoured from inside startling me to death and Mick barked lowly in reaction, "Whoops! Sorry to interrupt your suicidal mission." I turned my head steadily to see who's it even though I can comprehend the sherbet similarity.

Her voice has melted like a hot maroon stamp into my ears since the dawn hour and with the corner of my eyes I watched her leaning against the stretcher.

"But let me tell you Sparkly this height would cause you nothing but two broken ribs, one fractured thigh and you might loose your brain memory. No more than that." I gawked her appalled while she remained peacific arms folded infront of her chest, into different cardinal clothes now.

Again a replete splitness to what every other person's wearing outside.

Even though my intentions are nothing like that but saying this to someone who's about to take their life doesn't seem very pleasing.

I was about to speak something into my defence that she misinterpreted things but she cut me off popping her chewing gum and capturing the ropes of sticked bubble around her lips with her teeth.

Fuck.

A/n; Please lovies. Reblog it and gimme feedback alot of kisses!

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