#it’s not even my full thoughts but I also don’t like being chalked up to ‘morally dubious’ because I draw certain lines and have boundaries

[lavender-teardroplettes]

Hm….cant help but post my disappointment in getting blocked by someone I considered a friend without even the chance of having a discussion. I’m not owed one, but the fact that I was blocked in proxy makes me a little sad. If you noticed some ships getting removed from the ship list, that’s why. I won’t be talking about the games anymore and also don’t want any flack thrown at anyone, because it defeats the purpose of the topics we brought up in….hm not retaliation but as a counter point.

Idk. You’d expect people you’re friendly with to really talk these things out with you if you have differentiated opinions, but just getting hard blocked because you added some thoughts while agreeing with some points feels pretty shitty and like you can’t have friends with different opinions than you- whether they’re hard stances or not. I know it’s not just me, I know I’m valid in some of my personal experiences and opinions due to talking to others about my personal stances on things, but it still sucks. I can’t help but feeling alienated if not just for the fact that I’m a black person who tries to remind people that NUANCE and SENSITIVITY is important in fandom spaces, especially if you’re going to be the spearhead in the community, but also just as someone who has been personally effected by “everything is good no matter how it’s handled”. I’ve been hurt, I’ve been groomed by that media, but it feels like it doesn’t matter- to the point someone told me “it was my fault for getting groomed because of said media.”

Idk- I’m just disappointed.

[blackknight-kai]

Hello! I've been reading your works and I absolutely love it 💖💖 you're actually the first few people who got me into this fandom, and for that I'm eternally grateful ☺

As for the ask, is it ok if I ask general yan HCS of both monkeys? Maybe with fem reader? NSFW is fine. Thanks so much and have a good day! ❤

OOoOOooOOkay! So Ima give this my best shot! Keep in mind I do more ‘soft’ yandere mainly because I do like me a bit of romance with my darker stuff. I WILL add some darker things at the end though!! (I don’t delve into yan often so bare with me 🫶🫂 I’m learning)

Keep in mind before proceeding this isnt your typical HC everyone :)! It’s going to have some Non Con/stalking/whatever comes to my mind. I went with whatever direction my brain was going so I hope this came out okay!

Warning: Yandere ideas

Destined One

At first you didnt notice anything different about him compared to anyone else outside of the obvious physical traits and some personality traits. He’s reserved, quiet, and focused entirely on his goals. His determination and strength is something that awes you to this day. Something you do notice about him though is that hes observant. Always taking note of his surroundings and using his senses to keep himself aware of what going on. When you first started traveling with him he seemed to almost…ignore you a bit. As though you weren’t really a scratch on his so called journey and mission. But over time you start to notice him staring at you and watching you. It’s a little intense but you just chalk it up to him being him, maybe he’s curious about his companion finally?

- [ ] He hadnt really thought much of you when you first joined him. It honestly took him a bit of time to realize he’d grown a bit….attached to you. His eyes always following your every move and his ears always listening for you. Your scent? He has that memorized.

- [ ] DO is going to start off subtle about his attentions towards you. He’s not going to be rash, unless something pushes him to it.

- [ ] He’s ALWAYS watching you. Always knows where you are and what youre doing.

- [ ] His feelings for you go from zero to almost 100 - although he’s silent about it at first. You’re going to notice him staring or even sometimes getting things you needed for you before you even knew you needed it.

- [ ] DO doesnt do things in half measures. He’s focused. Which means once he’s turned his attentions on you, ALL of him is focused on you.

- [ ] DO knows it’s wrong, but cant stop himself from doing some of the more…inappropriate things with you. Such as watching you while you bathe or change.

- [ ] *Non Con - He’s going to end up touching you while you sleep. Be it an accident at first (yeah right) or he just doesn’t stop his urge to do so. But he’s going touch you because you’re too inviting to him. He won’t go so far as full on sex, but you will be caressed and eventually as he gains confidence you’ll find marks you’re not sure where they came from. He’s going to decide the very first night his hands slip under your clothes that you are his.

- [ ] No one else will EVER see you or touch you like he had. Ever.

- [ ] He’s going to be hyper attentive to you, lulling you into this sense of “Aw he cares for me and takes care of me”. While YES he does, it’s also to further his own goal in regards to you. The foods he brings? Not every time, but sometimes might have a little something in them that makes you a little…sleepy. Pliant. So he can run his hands under your clothes or leave little marks on you without you making a fuss. Your body will NOT be afraid of his touch, he’s going to make sure of it. Sex is still something he’s reserving for…claiming you fully. For now, he’s going to take his time getting your body just used to his hands and the way he makes you feel with them or his tail.

- [ ] He’s going to manhandle you, sit you where he wants you and if you fuss he’s stubborn and won’t budge about it, using his strength to hold you where he put you, to the point you let him have his way because it’s not worth arguing over.

- [ ] You dont realize it but he’s also been scenting the hell out of you, your clothes, and even your bed furs. To you, it just smells like a combination of you, the forest, and of him - which you dont think anything of because he carries stuff for you a lot.

- [ ] But him scenting that stuff? It’s a very loud claim especially since it’s not just him rubbing his face or neck on the items….no he’s rubbing those materials around his cock and balls. Getting his musk all over it.

- [ ] On you, he will be a bit more subtle with his scenting. Wrapping a tail around you or brushing his hand through your hair or against you as he walks by. But sometimes DO shoves his hand down his pants, coating his hand or even tail in his musk and then rubs it on you. You are HIS.

- [ ] He’s jealous as all hell too and will make it known by how he behaves towards others in regards to you. Does NOT like anyone even looking at you, it makes him want to carry you off to some makeshift nest and KEEP you there, to prevent wandering eyes.

- [ ] Speaking of, as soon as his journey ends thats exactly what he wants to do. If he doesnt have a place in mind he’s definitely going to make sure he finds one. It will be the nest for the two of you. He will make sure he gets you everything you need so you wont need to go out.

- [ ] Before that though, he’s going to do everything in his power to make sure you know that you’re his and he’s going to make sure you dont want anyone else.

- [ ] When his journey is over, immediately youre thrown over his shoulder. He’s carting you off to your permanent home, away from any dangers or the possibility of someone stealing you away from him.

- [ ] Here is where he’s a bit more…demanding and forceful. See, by this point he knows your body wants him, he’s smelled and felt how wet you get for his touch and he’s seen your eyes on him. You’ve been slowly pulled into his orbit once he has you in his chosen space he’s going to have all of you.

- [ ] He’s not going to just strip you and shove himself in, no. He still wants to make sure your body is willing. So he’s going to be more bold and more obvious about his touches.

- [ ] Bathing alone? Not anymore. Changing alone? Nope. Unless he’s gone doing something like gathering food or a quick patrol, your body is for his eyes. He will let you have some modesty but he’s going to slip his hands under your clothes when he pleases and feel your soft warm skin.

- [ ] You’re going to be awake when his tail or fingers forcefully slip between your legs, he’s going to pull orgasms out of you until your awake conscious learns to relax for his touch like your sleeping body and conscious do.

- [ ] You wont be allowed to leave, he will make sure a clone is around you at all times if he cant be and when youre sleeping he’s wrapped around you, his limbs like vices.

- [ ] Your skin will be marked with his bites and some claw marks, not deep enough to truly harm but enough to remind you of him when he’s out of sight.

- [ ] He will slowly get you addicted to his taste as well, slipping a pre or cum coated finger into your mouth as you orgasm so your brain learns that his taste means pleasure.

- [ ] When he takes you he’s going to be gentle but firm, he wants you to feel good but also wont let you resist him. He’s CLAIMING you now. His fangs will bite into you, this time with the purpose to scar his claim on you.

- [ ] After this, he’s going to make sure youre always ready for him, is not above using a clone to keep you spread open and wet for him via cock warming or a prefucking. You will be molded to the shape of his cock.

- [ ] He’s also going to slip inside you when you sleep, waking you as he ruts into you or touches your body.

- [ ] Your body WILL know that his touch means pleasure, but if you resist he’s going to make sure you remember your place. He will be rougher with you. Wanting you to submit.

- [ ] He will always pamper you after, cuddling you and cleaning you. But his cum will remain inside you until he’s ready to help you wash it out.

- [ ] He’s going to make sure you are so reliant on him, his touch, his presence, and all he does for you that you wont remember that his possessiveness isnt normal, that he’d stolen you away without asking and that he continues to lay his claim on you.

- [ ] No, youre lulled into a sense of belonging with him….youre his to care for, protect, and take.

- [ ] All in all and in general, Destined One is a quiet but firm yandere lover. Only when you really push back/push his dominance does he get too harsh with you. Depending on WHEN he finds you will depend on how quickly he steals you away. But he’s going to take care of you, you are HIS mate and mates are to be cared for, protected. He knows it’s not exactly normal to keep you the way he does, but something in him wont allow for you to even have the possibility to consider someone else. He’s going to show you that HE is the best for you. That HE knows the best for you. He may be jealous and possessive but he wont harm you so much so that you would be repulsed by his touch. No, he wants you pliant and giving in when he reaches for you, relaxing in his embrace or even seeking his touch out. If you take your pleasure with out him, he’s not going to let you sleep, it will get to the point you will end up passing out and he will keep going. He’s going to take you again when you wake. Your pleasure is for him to take and give.

Wukong:

Wukong is…very friendly to you. He also is a very good, if sometimes annoying, traveling companion or protector. So you really don’t notice anything out of the ordinary with him in the beginning. By the time you do it’s honestly too late for you. He’s lulled you into his intricate web and there’s no escape from him. Because he’s had his eyes on you and what Wukong wants, Wukong gets. He also knows there is no one else better than him for you.

- [ ] He knows almost immediately after meeting you that he wants you. It’s not a normal ‘want’ either. It’s the kind of greed he that claws at him from the inside desperate to get out and get a hold of you.

- [ ] Wukong will temper SOME of his more…greedy tendencies down. At first. But he has a way about him that is very demanding and commanding. Being the King and powerful being he is.

- [ ] He has a way of making you feel comfortable around him, as though you belong by his side. He’s going to make sure you see HIM as your protector and someone to go to for help or anything you need.

- [ ] Wukong will be outright flirtatious with you, but he wont be overtly forceful with his touches right away. He wants to get you warmed up to him and used to his ‘casual’ touches. Something he does NOT do for others but you dont need to know that.

- [ ] He definitely disguises himself when you go bathing, be it a fish in the water or a bug flying about. He wants his eyes on you at all times. Yes, this means he may brush against you often while in his forms of trickery.

- [ ] Would absolutely disguise himself as a woman in a bathhouse if you went to one and offer to help you bathe. (He will fish for compliments about himself if you mention him traveling with you)

- [ ] Wukong is going to be manipulative in a way you dont even realize. He’s mouthy and cunning so he’s going to use his words to steer you in whatever direction he wants things to go in.

- [ ] He’s also very opinionated and stubborn, sometimes using that to his advantage to get you to submit to him with some kind of benefit after, be it something he gets for you or he’s just all around more pleasant. He’s subtle about it all at first.

- [ ] Everything will be orchestrated to his needs/wants even if it LOOKS like it’s yours, because in his mind he knows what’s best FOR you.

- [ ] You’re going to wear clothes he finds for you (will probably take your preferences into consideration because he wants you happy but will definitely get things that suit his taste too), you will periodically have to share his clothes (because he dirty’s yours on purpose or ruins them).

- [ ] He wants you to rely on him for most things, getting you food to cook, personal effects/items, etc. Essentially hes going to be a sugar daddy LMFAO but in a way that he’s not necessarily giving you money, he just gets the thing for you while you wait for him because he wants you getting used to HIM taking care of you.

- [ ] *Non Con - Wukong will definitely slip things at times into your food or drink, wanting to make you think your having lovely dreams about him but in reality he has you in his lap, your legs spread wide open, one over each of his knees as he’s caressing your body or filling your hole with his tail or fingers. The wet sounds filling the air while youre out of it. Come morning there wont be a trace on you - besides the ever present lingering scent of his on your skin thanks to how touchy he is in general. Through this he explores your body, getting it needy for his touch.

- [ ] He’s also going to cum on you while you sleep or will rub his precum on the inside of your panties so when you wear them you dont even realize what he’s done as its mixed with your natural discharge of fluids that end up on your underwear throughout the day. But HIS precum and scent is pressed directly against your pussy all day.

- [ ] Depending on the situation - he may steal you away right away or he might wait and bide his time, getting you to be relaxed with him before he takes you away for himself.

- [ ] Either way, once he has you to himself he’s going to get more intense. He may not penetrate you right away but he’s going to make you crave him, until you finally beg him to bully his cock into your hole.

- [ ] He’s going to press against you all the time, rubbing his body on yours, striping you and bringing you to the edge of pleasure with his fingers, mouth, or tail until UH OH, you didnt beg him to claim you. Oops….cant orgasm because you clearly dont need him like you should. But that doesnt mean HE cant cum. So he’s going to do so and rub it into your skin or cuming against your mouth as he holds it open. Wukong wants to cum in your pussy but he holds back, instead cleaning his cock off with your panties and making you wear them all day. Showing ownership over you.

- [ ] As mentioned before, hes mouthy. He’s going to be good at using his words and voice to pick at things and make you question things. Including calling you out on your body’s reactions to him. He finds it amusing when you try to hide it. He’s going to dig into those things about you and make you squirm - get you worked up as he whispers filthy things to you. Things you might not even have thought about but now you are.

- [ ] All you’re going to know is him, what he can give you and what he does for you. He’s made sure of it. So by the time you finally beg him to stuff you full, finally fully submitting to him and giving up your stubborn pride, he’s not going to hesitate. He’s going to press you down, ass up face pressed to the floor or bed with his hand on the back of your neck as he holds you down. His cock is going to enter you in one thrust and he will be nice for just a moment to let you spasm around his shape. Wukong will coo at you and the second you even slightly relax hes going to pull back and thrust in hard. The way he takes you that first time is total dominance, you will know who you belong to and where you belong. His finger prints will be bruised into your skin and his bite mark on you as he fully claims you as HIS MATE.

- [ ] He’s going to take care of you after though dont worry, he will be gentle and kiss your body. But he’s going to make you orgasm no matter how sore or overstimulated you are - this second round will be softer. The part of him that loves you and wants to pamper you taking over.

- [ ] Wukong wont have any issue playing with you in front of his monkeys (adult ones), so if there’s a meeting going on expect his tail to wander where it shouldn’t, slipping inside you. Or he will have a clone who’s bullied his way between your legs under the table. He might even have you sit on his cock, keeping still as he deals with whatever monkey business is going on. No one will ever see an intimate part of you, he wants to keep that for himself. But they will hear you screaming his name and they will see his marks on you.

- [ ] Over all Wukong as a yandere is much more vocally and mentally manipulative. He is also raw power and strength not used to being denied. If youre too stubborn or push back he’s going to show you who is boss and why HIS way is best. He wont ever truly harm you, but youre going to know punishment / consequences for your actions if you displease him. You’re his mate, so he’s going to take care of you but it’s going to be in the way he deems best. If you fully give yourself over to him he will pamper the absolute fuck out of you while also probably pushing your boundaries here and there. Because he LIKES showing his ownership of you. Wukong wont mind you taking your own pleasure but for every orgasm you have (essentially taking them from him) he’s going to have some form of punishment lined out for you. Your body is going to know the feel of him and him alone, or him and his clones because he has zero problem with pushing you to your limits with his clones, wanting to see you cock drunk on him.

General Both:

- [ ] Regularly walks around with your juices on his chin or on the fur surrounding his cock.

- [ ] Good at after care but doesn’t hold back when he wants something

- [ ] Loves seeing his marks on your skin and presses against them regularly with his fingers to watch you squirm and remember how you got the marks.

- [ ] Not above using all the tricks in the book to get you.

- [ ] Will happily chase you down if you run - into predator/prey stuff.

- [ ] Sensitive to your returned (given willingly) affection.

Extra dark -

these are harsher so skip if you don’t like: Doing a “both” here because it’s easier. These are in general terms so different AUs/situations apply

- [ ] Very jealous & possessive. If someone shows interest in you…they aren’t gonna live long.

- [ ] Will manipulate the things around you without you knowing to get what he wants which is YOU. Be it people or events etc - will make himself look like a good option/only option you have. (If he has to clone into someone or kill someone / make them look bad he will do it)

- [ ] He thinks he knows what’s best for you so whatever he needs to do he will and you will learn that too.

- [ ] Will kill someone you may have been interested in/with/might be married off too.

- [ ] Will assert his dominance by fucking you/making you scream for him in front of someone who had eyes on you/dating you/married to you/getting married to you while a clone of his holds them captive- will kill them after he’s done showing the person who you belong to.

- [ ] Will have you cock warm him while he’s doing important things (WK kingly duties etc). Doesn’t care if others are in the room but they better not LOOK at you. That’s the rule.

- [ ] Will use you until he’s done - especially if you fight him. But he’s going to make sure you crave him and his touch/pleasure.

- [ ] Rough with you, you will have his marks on your body at all times be it scratch’s or bites and bruises. (Might make a special mark - maybe his initials)

- [ ] Going to keep you open and wet for him for when he needs you. Loves you cock drunk and mindless. Uses you as stress relief too after a hard day/fight

- [ ] Would absolutely baby trap you.

- [ ] If he wanted to really play with you, he’d capture you, fuck you, and release you with his cum still filling you (he’s going to be near by don’t worry). He will do this many times until all you can dream about is him/his touch. (Yes he could just keep you but he wants to mentally mess with you - make you crave the pleasure he forces on you)

- [ ] In that same category- will spike your food/drink and will fuck you into his shape. You’ll wake thinking you had some erotic dream but in reality he had genuinely claimed you.

- [ ] Will stalk the fuck out of you, you’ll catch him out of the corner of your eye because he WANTS you to. Wants to smell your fear a little because it excites him.

- [ ] Will make you walk around with his cum on your skin/In you - you WILL smell like his.

- [ ] Will get you anything you need but takes his payment from your body/pleasure. (Publicly too)

- [ ] You will wear the things he picks for you, some for his eyes only. Be it body jewelry or sexy items. When you’re in public you wear his favorite colors on you or the things he adorns you with.

- [ ] Fighting him is useless and only eggs him on - push him too much though and he WILL assert his power over you. You won’t be moving anywhere and will feel his ‘punishment’

- [ ] Mentally/emotionally will make it so you are so far gone on him and dependent on him you don’t even consider escaping anymore.

- [ ] Because while he’s dominant and forceful he adds enough sweetness to keep you addicted to him. Yes, he will take care of you and your basic needs and even provide good after care. You are his mate at the end of the day.

- [ ] You sleep with him every night - snug against his body. (If he hasn’t stolen you away he’s definitely sneaking into your bed)

- [ ] Regularly uses his clones not only to monitor you but to keep you ready for him. Might play punishment games if you cum while being touched by a clone.

- [ ] If someone tries to help you escape you’re going to be given their head as a trophy.

- [ ] If someone tries to take you from him, he’s going to level mountains.

- [ ] Might test you to see if you will try to escape….punishments as consequences.

- [ ] Will protect you with everything he has and any children you give him.

- [ ] Depending on the situation is suspicious if you returning affection - but if he sees it’s genuine he’s going to be smug as fuck and also very vulnerable about it but won’t show that.

[basketonthedoorstepofthefbi]

"tea" - emily prentiss x fem!liasion!reader

summary: you make a cup of tea to help you sleep

wc: 1.2k

cw: none, really? mostly fluff, & just emily being the best girlfriend ever

a/n: i'm in an emily phase rn and i'm not responsible for the fics i write ok ly all bad

A teal, ceramic mug with I <3 MYRTLE BEACH carved into it is cradled between both your hands as you lean against the kitchen counter. Your sleepovers at Emily’s apartment have become more and more frequent these days, which is lucky for you, really, because now you have a drawer where you can keep your comfortable, printed pajama sets. The set you have on tonight is blue, decorated with cartoon puppies. The shorts ride up your ass a little as you lean against the counter, but it’s no matter to you. Not right now, not when you’re the only one awake.

Or so you thought. 

Emily’s steps are akin to that of a kitten as she pads into the kitchen. Her ivory skin is the first thing you see, standing out in contrast of her dimly lit apartment. Then her dark hair, pulled up in a chaotic bun on the top of her head, leaning a little to the left because she always sleeps on her side. 

“Shit, Em, did the kettle wake you?” You grimace as she treads softly towards you. Her eyes squint to adjust to the light you have on over the range, and she reaches a closed fist out to chuck your chin playfully on her way to the refrigerator. 

“It’s alright,” she says, her voice like sandpaper compared to the usual velveteen you hear all day long. She must have been deep asleep, then. You feel a pang of guilt tug at your heart as you take a long sip of your tea. Emily grabs a handful of green grapes from the bowl in the fridge, popping one into her mouth. She glides to stand against the kitchen island, opposite a small stretch of linoleum from you. “You’re having trouble falling asleep again?” 

You shrug a little, trying to be nonchalant about it, but the truth is, you’ve been unable to fall asleep for a few weeks now. You chalk it up to a bad case about a month ago - unfortunately, both the unsub and their latest victim didn’t make it. You’ve had cases that didn’t end well before, but this victim was a young girl and you can’t help the way this one lingers in the back of your mind, like a bad aftertaste. 

“I can’t help you if you don’t talk to me, baby,” Emily says before crunching down on a grape, the last one in her hand. You set your tea down on the counter beside you and cross the linoleum street that separates you and your girlfriend, wrapping your arms around her neck. Her satin pajamas tickle your cheek as you press your forehead into the crook of her shoulder. 

You cling to her like a koala and Emily just keeps her hands on your waist, holding you closely as you embrace her. She smells like jasmine and vanilla, and you almost want to chastise her because you know that means she stole your perfume. 

“My head just feels very full these days,” you sigh after a few moments, pulling away. Emily uses her hold on your hips to guide your back against the kitchen island. You hoist yourself up onto it and Emily moves to stand between your legs. 

“It’s that Oregon case, isn’t it?” she asks, tucking your hair behind your ear with one hand, the other palm resting flat on your thigh. 

“How’d you know?” you ask, an eyebrow quirking upward. 

“You asked Reid to help you finish your report on it,” Emily begins. “Two out of three cases since then have revolved around young girls, like you’re overcompensating, and Derek told me he saw you zoning out by the coffee machine while Anderson and JJ were discussing the case.”

You feel pink rush to your cheeks. All of Emily’s evidence is factual, much as it pains you to admit. “Is that all?” you deadpan, feeling a little sheepish. You also want to lay into your coworkers for being such tattletales. As the Communications Liaison, you generally maintain a well-rounded, professional disposition, but you suppose even your attitude at work has been lacking recently. 

“And, y’know, the gut feeling,” Emily adds. “You’ve been a little slower getting ready for work, almost like you’re dreading it.” 

“We agreed, no more profiling at home,” you remind her. She runs her thumb over the dimple in your chin. 

“It’s not profiling, it’s knowing my girlfriend,” Emily bites back with a compassionate sincerity that makes you want to eat her alive. How did you get so lucky? “You’re usually dragging me out of bed in the mornings, not the other way around.” 

You rake your fingers through her hair, meeting her dark eyes in the soft, dim light of the kitchen. This is as romantic a backdrop as any, in your opinion - lovelier than Paris, Rome, and London combined. You’ve always heard that to be loved is to be known, and boy, does Emily know you. 

“Well, I’m sorry for waking you up,” you concede in a slight change of subject, tracing your thumb across her hairline. “D’you want some tea? It’s that herbal stuff for sleep that Penelope recommended.” 

Emily shakes her head, kissing your jaw gently, then your cheek, finally your lips. It’s brief but it carries so many words. “No, thank you,” she says in a whisper, then steps back, grabs your cup from the other counter, and hands it to you. 

You take a drink, the warmth seeping in through your nostrils. “Do you love Myrtle Beach, Em?” you ask with a small laugh as you examine the mug in your hands. It’s obviously handmade, with the splotches of teal paint and weird lumps - and the lack of a handle. 

Emily just laughs, turning around and hoisting herself up onto the countertop beside you. You eye her smooth legs sticking out of those black, satin pajama shorts, and, uncontrollably, you set your mug down and place a hand over her thigh. “I’ve actually never been to Myrtle Beach,” she says. “I bought that at a thrift store.”

“So, you buy designer pajama sets off the rack, but you shop for your mugs secondhand?” you chortle a little, drawing circles into the sliver of pearly white thigh peeking out from her shorts.

“Yep,” Emily confirms, popping the ‘p’ at the end of the word and shooting you a sideways smirk. “I like some things luxurious, but other things with lots of personality.”

“And which one am I?” you ask all-knowingly, leaning a little closer so your mouth was mere centimeters for hers.

“Oh, c’mon, now, you know you’re both.” Emily teases, then kisses you softly. 

You smile into the kiss, one hand curving against the smooth angle of her jaw to keep her face by yours for just a moment longer. “I really am sorry I woke you up,” you whisper as you pull away. 

“Don’t be,” Emily insists, resting her forehead against yours. “If it comes down to staring at the ceiling all night or waking me up by making tea, just wake me up. Okay?” 

You start to pull back, but Emily’s hand cups your cheek to keep your eyes on hers. “Okay?” she repeats. 

You nod. “Mhm. Okay, Em.” 

“Good, sweet, lovely girl,” Emily murmurs, pecking your lips once more before hopping off the counter. She offers you a hand to help you down. “Let’s try again, shall we?”

[fantaatix]

a stolitz post? in the year of our lord??

warning this is genuinely a long ass post

okay so sometime last month i was watching 3bskyen’s JLMW reaction (really tells you how long i’ve actually been cooking this post), and he was talking about color theory or something but what caught my attention was that he was paused on THIS frame:

he said something about the red/blue contrast throughout the music video; red being symbolic of blitz (the moon) and blue being symbolic of stolas (the ocean (?)) and it got me thinking, i wonder what the gold might symbolize? because this definitely isn’t the first time we’ve seen the color gold in reference to stolitz. first think back to truth seekers, there’s gold in quite a few places

golden rails, golden feathers, golden shackles; this is why i say gold and not yellow. at first i thought it might be symbolic of the power imbalance, but that’d be too easy.

quite the selection of objects, isn’t it? rails imply safety but can also be restricting, the feathers seem harmless but then turn into shackles…possibly reminiscent of the nature the book deal and the role it actually played in blitz’s mind about his relationship with stolas.

but there’s one more thing i left out; the golden dust

...okay...don't laugh...

first time i saw this scene in truth seekers i was immediately reminded of shrek ever after

AND I’M NOT COMPARING BLITZ TO RUMPELSTILTSKIN, i’m not trying to imply they stole from shrek ever after, THAT'D be a stretch. if anything blitz is better compared to shrek himself, but i'm not gonna write about that because i Don't Want To

but if i’m remembering correctly, that movie revolved around the theme of taking good things for granted, like your partner and your friends, which aligns pretty well with how blitz’s bad trip ends:

“i believe your subconscious is trying to tell you that you simply cannot fathom proper intimacy, but also craves it as well. it’s rather unfortunate, sir, considering it’s often how you treat those who stand by you, such as myself. are you worried i may have enough of it one day, as well?”

"you cannot fathom proper intimacy."

blitz doesn’t know how to be close to other people–i don’t think he understands the relationship he has with any of the people in his life.

we still don’t truly know blitz’s full belief on love and we can only deduce it from his actions; he says monogamy is boring but then goes on to stalk his monogamous employees, on their anniversary no less, bringing along his own singular date...

he focuses on the sex in his relationships because that’s what he’s good at; he finds sex less complicated than romance... and then struggles to get his asmodean crystal to open a portal because he can’t get it off.

he has this recurring pattern where the title of “best friend” eventually turns into something else, often unrequited...

“...my first ever friend!”

he didn't expect stolas' intimate attraction to him. stolas made the connection and it succeeded in making blitz feel guilty about stealing the book; that was why he stayed the night. blitz isn't used to not being rejected, even though he has a record of relationships that stopped once the Evil Four Letter Word came up. when he goes into a relationship, blitz has learned to not expect it to evolve past sex. love has negative connotations to him.

the worst part is we don’t know for certain WHY any of this is, or if it can even be chalked down to a singular thing

yeah, his mom died in a fire blitz caused, his best friend/crush lost his limbs in a fire blitz caused, he’s been treated as property since a young age; you can makes all kinds of correlations between these events and how they might have affected him later in life but as it stands now, we have no concrete answers other than the conclusion that blitz hates himself and has commitment issues.

but back onto that “taking things for granted” tidbit–subconsciously, he knows relationships can be good, but he feels he has to give up a lot of freedom in order to maintain one of his own.

also note how blitz is desperately crawling up the staircase, feathers kind of just hitting him haphazardly as he does so, as opposed to trip!moxxie who takes a few steps up after picking up a feather of his own volition. he knows moxxie’s relationship is more stable than any relationship he’s ever had, and yet:

“stop fucking talking, all of you!”

cue the gold dust.

now, i'm not saying the book deal was a good thing. in fact, it kind of reinforced the power imbalance between blitz and stolas. i'm saying that from blitz's perspective, it was a safeguard. any feelings he might have had for stolas before could be dismissed, and he does exactly that one episode prior;

"it's a transactional fucking, you see..."

what i think he does take for granted is the advice “moxxie” gives to him, his attempts to reach out in a meaningful manner, kind of like stolas’ attempts to reach out. he ignores them both; he’s too deep into his own denial.

also, STAIRCASES IN THIS FUCKING SHOW.

why do these fruity little men think so low of themselves and so highly of others??

i guess that's a bit of a rhetorical question, we all know the answer, but. wait. hold on a sec

ohhhh.

OOOHHHH, that's what this post was gonna be about!

i fucking GOT all of you, you thought i could go a post without talking about him you're WRONG and should feel SILLY.

so this was the OTHER thing i realised when watching 3bskyen's JLMW reaction: it follows the same theme as moxxie's bad trip!

JLMW vs. moxxie's bad trip

in helluva boss, we're used to seeing staircases being symbolic of a difference in power or importance, or a staircase to heaven, or a highly anticipated event going wrong *cough cough ozzie's cough full moon cough cough*

however, i think in the context of moxxie’s bad trip and JLMW, it can also be attributed to emotional distance. like stolas, moxxie's also looking for an emotional intimacy/understanding between him and blitz (he spends his whole trip actively trying to get on the same level as him for crying out loud).

this could also fit into blitz's bad trip; he's trying to get on the same level as stolas, but feels like even if he ever did, he'd still be inherently worthless. a "play thing".

he doesn’t know why anyone would want him for anything else, but he’s clearly not all about the hierarchy.

they need to get on the same level as each other emotionally; they need to break the power dynamic, and thats why the book deal had to go.

the difference in the symbolism is that while blitz has a straight and narrow path to trip!stolas, moxxie’s path to trip!blitz is this winding, unguarded staircase. he almost falls off.

now, compared to both of those, stolas’ path is a fucking stroll. albeit an emotionally damaging stroll, but it takes less physical strength.

conclusion; stairs are symbolic of a difference in power, but gold is symbolic of something else.

and there is a power dynamic between moxxie and blitz. it's not like stolas and blitz's dynamic, it's an artificial imbalance; blitz is the boss, moxxie is the employee. and moxxie has his own inferiority complex, which i think plays a role in it too.

the imbalance between stolas and blitz is kind of, unfortunately, inherited. but it's not impossible to manage. of course, stolas doesn't care about where blitz is on the hierarchy, he doesn't care about the hierarchy period. but it's still there. blitz cares because it affects him.

"you will be technically under his jurisdiction, but..."

this was problem one. stolas unintentionally demonstrating his power over blitz. "surprise, i technically made you someone else's property! please love me!" i'm exaggerating but this is definitely not the kind of thing you spring on your partner; they needed to talk about this beforehand, but according to stolas:

"no need for an arrangement, it can just be him and me!"

sigh. the many different ways this night could've gone

this is enough to trigger blitz's fight or flight. he wants to be with stolas, but he doesn't want the freedom to choose to be with him, which is problem two:

because blitz's belief of love is so inherently fucked up,

what are the chances that the very thing stolas gave to blitz to reaffirm his free will was just interpreted as another shackle?

blitz doesn't do commitment; stolas doesn't say "i love you", he doesn't need to. if you love something, you let it go, and if it comes back then it's yours--which happens in the very next episode.

blitz is the first person to mention love.

but if they want to love each other, they have to be equals, which was why the book deal had to go. they can't hold each other to these super high standards because that'd just set themselves up for disappointment. they have to be on the same level.

tldr: they're two sides of the same coin. literally!

color theory for dummies, a brief intermission

fun fact: i actually didn’t learn color theory in an art class, but in a textiles class. we love american education. but anyways, i’m gonna ask you to draw your attention specifically to the complementary colors.

we start the chorus of JLMW in a purpley sort of place, which then shifts into gold, and then into the red/blue contrast.

except red and blue aren’t complete opposites, they’re both primary colors.

if they wanted complete opposites, they could’ve used red and green, or blue and orange, which are admittedly uglier combinations but the point is that stolitz aren’t complete opposites.

however, purple and yellow, or gold, ARE complete opposites; they’re complementary colors. if purple is implied to be symbolic of stolitz together, then could gold imply stolitz apart?

well…no. i think that’s the wrong angle. if they wanted that contrast, they could have left the gold out entirely, because red and blue separate is stolitz apart.

so how are we supposed to deduce what the gold is actually symbolic of? because no, i don’t actually think it’s an extended shrek 4 reference. that kind of exclusively pertains to blitz’s trip.

listening to the lyrics in the gold part;

This unspoken contract

A deed we forged for mutual gain

If that's all this was when you're not here

What is this rooted pain?

I don't care that you're of lower station

Or primed to sate my dark temptations

Why can't you understand? Let me explain

And I'm terrified as I cry

To make these feelings true

What's left for me and my broken heart

If I cannot have you?

a direct mention of the book deal…and another mention of the power imbalance…so i realize am starting to sound insane, but please hear me out.

i think the main theme of helluva boss IS learning to love in spite of damages and traumas and insecurities–not ignoring either of those, but learning to work around them or possibly heal those parts of yourself so you can love someone else effectively. learning from mistakes.

so what if the gold is symbolic of the simple desire of a mutual understanding? or a meaningful connection with someone else?

tying it all back together somehow

both moxxie and stolas want to connect with blitz (in different ways), but for stolas, that means severing possibly the only thing connecting them thus far (the book). for moxxie, that means climbing the staircase and possibly being pushed even further away.

moxxie also has this high opinion of blitz despite all his obvious (and not so obvious) flaws. i think it's partially because of his own inferiority complex, but to him, blitz is the phantom--his scar becomes the mask he hides behind. he knows blitz puts on this loud, crude personality to hide his cracks and keep others away, and has a scarily accurate portrayal of him in his mind.

moxxie wants to be on the same level as blitz, and he knows it's possible to get there, because he's a damaged character himself and he gets it. he's just yet to take the actual first step.

stolas, even in his own imagination, doesn't think it's possible to be emotionally intimate until the deal is broken. he could reach for blitz, but blitz wouldn't reach back. he's not looking. not to mention the literal celestial view he has of blitz in his head.

while stolas can see blitz's damage, he can't fully comprehend it yet, partially because blitz won't give him the chance and partially because stolas isn't damaged in the same way he is. they both had deadbeat dads, but they adapted in different ways.

that's just the way trauma works, you adapt to deal with it, and then have to unadapt those unhealthy coping mechanisms once you're finally safe. it just takes a while for people to realize they're actually safe, and these fruitcakes are no exception.

conclusion? uhh, i don't know, i guess i don't really have one. just. enough with the discourse about these bitches i guess??? just give them each some time, change takes more than two seasons.

i guess i could compare the way the songs are set up but this was supposed to be out like two days ago and it's already 11:45 so. maybe some other time, maybe in a post about moxxie's Interesting taste in musicals

was unfortunately unable to finish the mox vs. fizz masterpost this month but we'll see sometime in the coming months, maybe sometime after the next helluva short comes out. been a bit too busy with school and other social things to have time writing these long asf posts about my skrimblos

okay goodnight o/

[captainremmington-13]

𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖉𝖆𝖚𝖌𝖍𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝖔𝖋 𝖉𝖊𝖆𝖙𝖍

𝖈𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝖙𝖍𝖗𝖊𝖊

show!Luke Castellan x daughter of thanatos!reader

DISCLAIMER: I don’t own the image above or any of Rick Riordan’s characters/world-building.

⚠️Warnings⚠️: mentions of violence, swearing, and parental neglect

A/N: capture the flag scenes>>>

When you heard your name being called, you didn’t even have to look up to know who was speaking. You’d recognize your best friend’s voice anywhere.

“What’s up, Luke?”

The son of Hermes gave you a toothy grin and linked arms with you, leading you away from the group of miscellaneous campers. You had been participating in a rope-tying class held by the Hephaestus head counselor, but it was really only to pass the time. There were more important matters at hand. 

“Can we go over everything one more time? I want to make sure we’re on the same page.” 

It was Friday afternoon, meaning that Capture the Flag was mere hours away. This time, Hermes was paired with the Hephaestus, Apollo, and Athena cabins. The campers in the cabins of Dionysus, Demeter, Aphrodite, and Ares would be their opponents. It wasn’t the most difficult match-up they’d faced, but it wasn’t a guaranteed victory.

Luke took winning very seriously. You knew that better than anyone, because he would talk to you for hours upon hours about his plans. He always went to you for consultation, as he knew you’d never betray him by giving information to the opposing team. You were loyal to him, just as he was to you.

He also knew you were an excellent strategist as well as a formidable fighter. After seeing your ideas work flawlessly on the battlefield, he asked if you would be his co-captain. 

And of course, you accepted. Not only would it make the Hermes cabin a stronger force, it meant you had an excuse to spend more time with him. Not that you really needed one, but it couldn’t hurt.

You and Luke took a seat on a fallen tree trunk at the cusp of the woods. He quickly ran through the plan you had formulated last night. It was chalk-full of deception and diversion, which was Luke’s specialty. You had ensured that the strongest fighters would be placed in exactly the right spots, waiting to take hostages to the blue team’s “jail”. The more players the red team lost, the better. You’d also given two of the most observant and experienced fighters the job of guarding your flag. Guards must always be on alert, and you couldn’t risk them getting distracted and allowing the other team to steal the victory. 

When Luke finished talking, you cleared your throat. “I don’t believe there are any misunderstandings between us regarding the plan. I have no doubt that we will emerge victorious.” 

He gave you a small smile. “I appreciate your confidence.” 

“I have a good reason to believe we’ll win,” you said, leaning your head against his arm. “When we work together, we rarely lose.” 

You sat in silence for awhile, enjoying the peaceful moment. You loved having time alone with Luke. It was becoming rarer and rarer, especially now that he was a camp counselor. But he did everything in his power to make time for you. 

After all, you were his best friend, his most loyal ally.

Nothing, not even the gods, could tear you away from him.

________________________________________________

“Fuck-I swear to the fucking gods, if someone stole it…gods dammit…LUKE!” 

You screamed for your best friend, who came rushing over, almost tripping over himself. 

“What? What happened?” he said breathlessly, scanning you for any sign of injury. 

“Someone took my chest plate,” you seethed. “Everyone knows what mine looks like, they must’ve stolen it to fuck with my head.”

“Hey,” Luke said, placing his hands on your shoulders. “Relax. I’ll figure out who took it and bring it back here, I promise.” 

“It was probably Vander,” you muttered, internally shuddering as you thought about the son of Ares. “He’s just mad because I beat his ass in a race earlier today.” 

Luke’s eyes narrowed. “I bet you’re right. Stay here and put the rest of your armor on, I’ll go get your chest plate back.” 

Before you could protest, he removed his hands from your shoulders and dashed out the door, leaving you alone in the armory. 

And within minutes, Luke returned, holding your beloved piece of armor and wearing a triumphant grin. You noticed that his knuckles were slightly bruised, but didn’t need to ask why.

Luke had a habit of getting even with anyone who messed with you.

.

.

.

“Campers,” Chiron’s baritone voice echoed throughout the forest clearing. “I know most of you are familiar with the rules, but I must go over them to ensure none are forgotten. I want a fair and clean fight.” 

You barely refrained from rolling your eyes. The Ares cabin never fought fair, of course their opponents would stoop to their level in order to win. 

As Chiron went over the rules, you took the opportunity to size up the red team, who was standing on the other side of Zephyros Creek. 

Dionysus, Demeter, and Aphrodite weren’t the largest concern. Yes, they could fight, but they weren’t nearly as ruthless as the Ares cabin. 

You hated most of the Ares kids. Even though your father had a close relationship with their father, you couldn’t stand their obnoxious bickering and unethical warfare tactics. 

Unlike your father, you believed that death should only come fairly. 

The Ares cabin were always out for blood during Capture the Flag, no matter who they were facing. And when they didn’t win…

Well, whoever was on the opposing team would face their wrath for weeks afterwards. 

“…and finally, all weapons and powers are fair game.” 

“Hang on,” a newly arrived daughter of Ares spoke up, pointing at you. “What about her creepy death powers? And can’t she fly? Isn’t that unfair?” 

Chiron shook his head. “As long as she doesn’t kill or maim anyone, she is allowed to use all powers at her disposal.” 

The girl scowled. “Fine.” 

“If there are no other objections,” Chiron spoke once more. “Let the game begin!” 

The sound of a conch blowing followed his declaration. Luke immediately began giving orders, making sure to use every one of the twenty minutes given to organize the team before the combat began. 

You followed behind him closely, ensuring he didn’t forget any details of the plan. You preferred to to let him talk to the other campers, as he was a friendlier face. When you had tried explaining strategies in the past, people who were supposed to be listening got distracted, either due to fear or your non-assertive tone. 

After all of the campers were briefed, you and Luke turned to each other. 

“I should head to my post,” you began, tightening your forearm guard one last time. “Make sure that everyone is positioned exactly as we discussed.“ 

Luke nodded. “Of course.” He held out his hand, and you clasped it firmly. “The next time you see me, I’ll be holding the red team’s flag.”

“I wouldn’t expect anything else,” you replied, giving him a confident smile. “Good luck, and stay safe.” 

“You too,” Luke said. You expected him to leave after that, but instead, he leaned forward to give you a swift kiss on the cheek. Then, he turned on his heel and raced into the depths of the woods, leaving you feeling as if Zeus had struck you with his master bolt. 

Quickly shaking off the feeling, you gripped the hilt of your weapon, a dual-ended sword made of Celestial Bronze and Stygian Iron. 

You had a game to win.

________________________________________________

The campers around you erupted into cheers as Luke hoisted the red team’s flag above his hair triumphantly. He had a euphoric grin on his face as he shook hands with his teammates and congratulated them on a job well done.

You watched the celebration from several feet away, sitting on the dirt ground and resting your head against a tree. It had been a long game, and you’d almost passed out from over-exerting your powers. 

Perhaps you should have run to where your front lines were compromised instead of flying. 

But it didn’t matter now. Your team won, that was the important thing. 

Luke came jogging over to you, holding a small metal water bottle. He knelt down next to you, and placed the canteen in your hands. 

“Drink this,” he instructed. “You look like you’re about to faint.”

You gave him a tired smile, and unscrewed the bottle. Taking a small sip, you immediately recognized the sweet taste of nectar. “Thanks, that helped a lot.” 

Luke took off his helmet, freeing his disheveled curls. He also looked physically tired, but the adrenaline from winning the game was clearly keeping him in an energetic state. “You did great out there today.”

“Not nearly as great as you,” you said, downing half of the bottle of nectar in one go. If it had been a normal-sized canteen, consuming half of the contents would’ve killed you. Luckily, you were smart enough to refrain from ingesting enough nectar to burst into flames. “You’ve been dubbed the best swordsman of the century for a reason.”

Luke chuckled, giving you a gentle nudge. “Careful now, don’t go inflating my ego.”

“It doesn’t need any inflating anyways,” you joke, giving him a teasing smirk. 

“Fair enough,” he agreed, and extended a hand to help you stand up. “Seriously though, I’m glad you’re on my side. Otherwise I’d be fucking terrified of crossing you.” 

You smile proudly, and grabbed his hand. He pulled you onto your feet, and slung an arm across your shoulder. 

“I’ll always be on your side, Luke. As long as you’re on mine.”

“Of course, angel. I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

taglist: @orionspaperwork, @pansexualwitchwhoneedstherapy, @marvelescvpe, @lovingjasontoddmakemewanttocry, @louweasleymalfoy, @stars4birdie, @stargurl-battleship

Thank you for reading! Pls let me know what you think in the comments!!! Ive absolutely been loving writing this series so far, it’s been a really nice creative outlet for me. i’m pretty busy right now and trying not to get overwhelmed w/ schoolwork, so doing this has been really relaxing and fun.

i’m also sorta going thru some…relationship problems rn, so just know that i may be a little inconsistent with posting

Let me know in the comments if you want to be added to the taglist!

[ichorai]

blueberries ; one.

pairing ; joey tribbiani x gn!reader chapter synopsis ; the one with runaway brides, pregnant wives, and homewreckers. wc ; 8.5k warnings / includes ; talks of sex/suggestive content, mild cursing, mentions of cheating, reader is a physicist and also bisexual, literally everyone in the group is fruity other than ross lol

series masterlist. main masterlist.

The pretty waitress strode towards you with a sweet smile, your warm cup of tea balanced on one hand, and Joey’s slice of double fudge cake in the other. She dropped it by the table and you noticed a small piece of folded paper by the edge of your cup. 

Once she was gone, you picked up the paper and unfurled it, a smile growing across your lips.

“Whatcha got there?” Chandler asked, peering over your shoulder. 

“I think it’s the waitress’ number,” you replied, folding it back and pocketing it safely within your jeans. “She’s real pretty.”

Joey, already halfway through with his cake, teasingly spoke around a full mouth, “Too bad you never leave the house other than to hang with us. I can take that number off of you if you never end up using it.”

You shot him a half-hearted scowl, but remained quiet.

Just then, Monica and Phoebe strolled into the cafe, taking a seat on the large sofa beside you and Chandler. 

“There’s nothing to say, really,” the dark-haired woman told Phoebe in a defensive tone. “He’s just some guy I work with.”

“What’re you guys talking about?” Joey asked, having fully inhaled his cake in a matter of minutes. 

“Monica’s going out with someone,” you replied, wrinkling your nose in amusement and curling your legs up beneath you. You drank a sip of your tea as an excuse to hide away from her withering glare. “Isn’t that right, Monica?”

A roguish grin stretched across Joey’s features. “Come on. What’s the catch? You’re going out with a guy—there’s gotta be somethin’ wrong with him.”

“Does he eat chalk?” Phoebe queried, placing a comforting hand on Monica’s shoulder. “I don’t want you to go through what I went through with Carl, you know?”

The five of you grimaced at the memory of Carl.

“It’s not even a date!” said Monica, brushing her dark hair away from her face. “It’s just two people going out to dinner—and not having sex.”

Chandler scratched the back of his neck sheepishly. “Sounds like all the dates I’ve had.”

It was then that Ross came into the cafe, drenched from foot to toe. You glanced behind you to the window, surprised to see that it had started to rain without you realizing. It looked like your long-time friend was crying, but you couldn’t really tell if it was rainwater or tears that were on his face.

“Hi,” he mumbled, morose. 

You arched a brow. “You okay, Ross?”

He shook his head, squeezing between you and Chandler on the sofa. The two of you grimaced when his sodden clothes dripped all over you, and Chandler rolled his eyes before getting up and sinking into another chair. 

“Feels like someone reached down my throat, ripped out my small intestine, pulled it out of my mouth, and tied it around my neck.”

“Cookie?” Chandler offered. Ross ignored him.

Monica sighed. “Carol moved her stuff out today,” she offered as an explanation, knowing Ross would take well over an hour of moping to finally get to the point. “Let me go grab you some coffee.”

As his sister left, Ross crossed his arms, swatting Phoebe away when she tried to cleanse his aura, as she often did. “I’ll be fine—really, I will. I hope she’ll be very happy.”

“No, you don’t, Ross,” you quipped.

“No, I don’t! To hell with her, she left me!”

Joey snorted. “And you never knew she was a lesbian?”

“I knew—” you said pointedly. “Ross just never listened to me.”

“I didn’t think you were being serious!” he exclaimed. “I don’t know, sometimes you joke about things being gay and stuff so I just thought it was a joke I wasn’t in on. Because, you know, I’m not—”

Lightly punching him in the shoulder, you gave him a stern look. “I know you’re not gay, Ross. Why would I joke about your wife being gay?”

“I mean, you did say she was really hot once,” Phoebe chimed, much to your dismay. At your soured expression, the blonde spoke up again, “What? I think she’s hot, too!”

Ross buried his face into his hands, groaning loudly. “Why does everyone keep fixating on the fact that she’s a lesbian? She didn’t know—how would I have known?”

“Didn’t she tell you that she just kinda found dicks gross at one point?” Chandler asked, lounging in an awkward position on the chair. Ross grumbled quietly under his breath, clearly not wanting to continue the conversation of his wife being gay. “Sometimes I wish I was a lesbian. Being bisexual is exhausting—do I want a man to sweep me off my feet or do I want a woman to sweep me off my feet? I’ll never know.”

Monica came back with the cup of coffee, handing it to Ross before turning to you excitedly. “Hey, Y/N. The waitress was asking about you.”

“Oh, yeah? What did she say?”

“She wanted to know if you were single or not.”

With bated breath, you snuck a glance to the counter, watching the pretty waitress take another customer’s order.

“And?”

“I told her you were single,” Monica replied. “Unless there’s something you’re not telling us…?”

“I’m single,” you reassured them. Ross made a strange noise that sounded like Chewbaca choking on a stick at the reminder of being single. “Ross, listen. It’s not your fault that your wife is queer—despite me telling you multiple times that she was—so let’s look at the bright side here. She’s not leaving you because of you. It’s the literal definition of it’s not you, it’s me.”

With a frown, Ross pried his fingers away from his still-damp face. “Yeah, I guess…”

Joey clapped his hands together, bringing everyone’s attention to him. “Alright, Ross, look. You’re feelin’ a lot of pain right now. You’re hurting. Can I tell you what the answer is?”

Ross nodded, apprehensive.

“Strip joints!”

The rest of you groaned. 

Joey shrugged, genuinely confused as to why it wouldn’t be a good idea. “Come on, you’re single now! Gotta release those hormones somehow.”

“See, I don’t want to be single!” Ross exclaimed in exasperation. “I just wanna be married again.”

As if on cue, a woman ran into the cafe, wearing a rather large white wedding dress. She was soaked and breathless, and her dripping brown hair was a mess, and the white fabric was streaked with dirt and mud and city street gunk.

All of you blinked in surprise. 

Chandler gestured to the door in a pleading manner. “And I just want a million dollars!”

“A million dollars really isn’t all that much—ask for a hundred million,” you told him. 

“A billion dollars!” he shouted.

“That’s too much. Nobody should have a billion dollars.”

“A trillion dollars!” he yelled again, ignoring you completely.

You rolled your eyes, before turning your gaze back to the lost woman in a wedding dress.

Concerned, Monica stood up, expression twisted into one of part-disbelief and part-recognition. 

“Rachel?” she asked as she approached the woman. 

“Oh, my God, Monica, thank goodness!” She threw her arms around a stricken Monica, the white fabrics of her wedding dress just about slapping her in the face. She spoke quickly, voice crackling with emotion. “I went to your apartment and some guy with a big hammer said you might be here, and you are! Gosh, I’m just so happy to see you!”

The rest of the group watched the two of them with evident confusion, and Monica led Rachel to the couch. “Oh, everybody, this is Rachel, another Lincoln High survivor. Rachel, this is everybody—that’s Chandler, Phoebe, Joey, Y/N… you remember my brother Ross, don’t you?”

“Sure!” Rachel smiled brightly, strangely cheerful for someone in a ruined, soaking wedding dress.

To make space for her and her rather spacious dress, you got up from the large couch and moved to Joey, bumping his hip playfully to get him to scooch aside on his chair so you could sit beside him. The two of you fought over space for a bit before he relented, grabbing your legs and swinging them over his thighs. You sent him a smug grin as you leaned back comfortably and Joey only stuck his tongue out at you childishly.

“So, uh, are you going to tell us now or are we waiting for four wet bridesmaids, too?” Monica queried. 

“Wouldn’t be so bad, huh?” Joey whispered into your ear, and you jabbed an elbow into his side to shut him up.

“Oh, God,” Rachel started, gesturing emphatically with her hands. It didn’t slip your notice when Ross sat up straight, watching the new woman with wide eyes. “It started about half an hour before the wedding. I was in this room where we were keeping all these presents and I was looking at this gravy boat! This really gorgeous Limoges gravy boat, you see. Which led me to realize that… I was more turned on looking at this gravy boat than by Barry! And I got really freaked out, because how could I get married to someone I think is less attractive than a gravy boat? And I just kinda stare at him and I realize that he looks just like Mr. Potato Head. You know, I always thought he looked familiar but…” she trailed off, looking ready to burst into tears. “Anyway, I just had to get out of there—and I didn’t know anywhere else to go. I know you and I have drifted apart but you’re the only person I know who lived in the city.”

Pursing her lips, Monica eyed Rachel quizzically. “... Who wasn’t invited to the wedding.”

Rachel grimaced. “I was kinda hoping that wouldn’t be an issue.”

You stepped into Monica’s apartment, waving hello to the group of friends gathered on her couch.

“Hey guys,” you greeted, plopping down next to Rachel, still in her wedding dress. “Sorry I had to duck out at the cafe—work called. What’d I miss?”

“Rachel’s staying at Monica’s place now,” replied Phoebe. “I sang her a song to cheer her up!”

From behind the sofa, Joey curled an arm around you, and his other went over Rachel’s shoulders. “Hey, Rach, if you ever need a place to stay—Chandler and I live right across the hall. And Chandler’s away a lot.”

“Can you stop hitting on her?” you hissed, swatting his hand away. “God, Joey, it’s her wedding day!”

“Hey, don’t be jealous. I offered you the same when I first met you!” 

“Jo, honey, I had my own apartment then, and I still have my own apartment now.”

The man shrugged, pressing a quick, chaste kiss to the side of your head. “The offer still stands, sweetheart.”

Rachel raised her eyebrows, gesturing between the two of you. “So are you two… like…?”

“Oh, no!” you exclaimed, slapping a hand over Joey’s mouth to make sure he didn’t say something stupid. “He’s just flirty with everyone.”

Joey’s tongue darted out to lick across your palm and you quickly retracted your hand with an exclamation of disgust, wiping it over his jacket before shoving him. “You’re so gross.”

He trotted away to Chandler in the kitchen before you could hit him again, grinning like a fool.

Just then, the doorbell rang. Chandler peered through the peeping hole, and gasped in an overexaggerated manner.

“It’s Paul the wine guy!”

Phoebe tilted her head. “Monica, is your ‘guy from work’ date Paul the wine guy?”

With a smile, Ross placed a hand on his sister’s arm. “Oh my God, he finally asked you out on a date?”

“Y-Yeah, I was supposed to go out with him for lunch but…” Monica looked at Rachel on the sofa. “Rach, wait, I can cancel!”

“Oh, please, no, you should go, Monica! I’ll be fine!” the brunette assured her. 

“Do you want me to stay, Ross? Will you be okay?” 

Ross looked torn, but you sent him a nasty glare that clearly meant—stop being a whiny bitch baby and let your sister go. He straightened himself, shoving his hands into his pockets. “Yes, of course. You should go.”

Monica skipped to the door with a bright smile, slowly opening it to reveal Paul on the other side with—what do you know, a wine bottle. You pressed a fist to your lips to hide your laugh with a cough.

The man was quite the looker, and you had to roll your eyes to the ceiling when Phoebe started giggling with Monica like schoolgirls. As Monica said her goodbyes and strode out the door with Paul, Rachel and Ross had moved to the kitchen, where he began asking Rachel what her plans were for the night.

“Well, if you’re feeling lonely, you can always come to my place—Chandler and Joey are helping me put together some new furniture.”

Chandler held up a sloshing glass of orange juice he fished from the fridge. “It’s gonna be a blast! I just can’t wait to hit nails with a hammer like a real man!” he said, practically dripping with sarcasm.

“Oh,” said Rachel as she got up. “I’m flattered, really, but I think I just want to unwind here for tonight. It’s been a long day.” She excused herself, heading to the bathroom. 

Though Ross looked a little dejected, Joey and Chandler shrugged it off easily. “Hey, Phoebe, you wanna help out?”

The blonde pursed her lips in thought. “Mm, I wish I could, but I don’t want to.” 

You snorted in amusement, slinging an arm around her.

“What about you, Y/N?” asked Ross. “Could really use the company right now.”

“Oh, sorry, Ross, I can’t,” you winced. “I’ve got to run some calculations for work before tomorrow. I’ve got a presentation first thing on Monday. But call me if you need help, okay?” 

Apologetically, you leaned up to press a kiss to his cheek. 

“Bye, guys. Tell Rachel it was nice meeting her for me, will you? I should get going now.”

“What, and I don’t get a goodbye kiss?” Joey asked, stretching his arms out with an exaggerated pout. 

With a huff, you reluctantly gave him a hug, before swiftly pecking his cheek. “See you guys later, alright? You want a kiss too, Chandler?” 

“Would be nice,” he replied, scuffing the floor with the heel of his shoe. “I’m touch starved.”

“We know,” the four of you replied in tandem, before bursting into laughter.

You leaned over to kiss Chandler’s cheek too, and then Phoebe’s for good measure, before waving one last time and sliding out the door.

It wasn’t even two hours later when you got a call, with Ross yelling something about how he couldn’t feel his legs and how his life was crumbling apart because Chandler hammered a screw into his bookshelf instead of a nail. Joey was in the background moaning about how hungry he was, and Chandler was screaming at Ross to calm down, which obviously made Ross even more upset.

So there you were, standing outside of Ross’ door with two boxes of pizza and sleepy eyes. You passed out on top of your work an hour through, the ringing from Ross’ call being what shocked you awake. 

As soon as the door swung open, Ross immediately enveloped you in a hug, speaking so quickly that it all went in one ear and out the other. Something about his lesbian wife, you supposed. You patted his back lethargically. 

Joey came forward to take the pizzas off of you, somehow already managing to stuff half a slice into his face with one bite. “You’re a lifesaver, Y/N. I could kiss you right now.”

You wrinkled your nose. “Please don’t.”

Littered around Ross’ relatively empty apartment was a bunch of loose piles of wood and metal poles and silver nails and screws haphazardly strewn all over the floor. 

“You guys are a mess.”

For the rest of the time, the three men ate as they watched you tiredly read over the manuals, before slowly but accurately assembling together the furniture. They all clapped once you finally put together the bookshelf—amazed at the fact that it didn’t topple to the ground as soon as you put one book on top, as it did when they tried. 

“You’re good with your hands,” Joey commented slyly. “Wonder what else they’re good at.”

“I’ve been told I’m good at punching people,” you replied dryly, sitting on a single stool and leaning against Joey for support, seeing as Ross didn’t have a couch anymore. You closed your eyes sleepily, and he placed an arm around you. Quietly, you mumbled out, “If I fall asleep, just tell Ross it’s not because I hate him, okay? I have a feeling just about anything would set him off tonight.”

“What if there’s only one person for everybody, you know?” Ross blubbered to Chandler from across the room, proving your point exactly. “What if you just get one chance—and that’s it?”

Pulling a sour expression, Joey cocked his head as he said, “What the hell are you talking about, Ross? One person? That’s so… limiting. It’s like saying there’s only one ice cream flavor you like. Let me tell you something, Ross, there’s tons of ice cream flavors out there. There’s rocky road, and cookie dough, and Bing cherry vanilla! You can get ‘em with jimmies, or nuts, or whipped cream, if you know what I’m saying.” He winked down at you and you pinched his side. “Personally, I think I’m a mint chocolate chip. Chandler—you’re a raspberry sorbet. Y/N, I think you’d be somethin’ like blueberry cheesecake. And Ross… you’re a… vanilla. With nuts, if we’re going wild with it.”

Mildly offended that Joey called him vanilla, Ross opened his mouth to retort something, but Chandler beat him to it.

“You think I’m raspberry sorbet?”

Joey waved the both of them away. “Anyways, the point is, this is the best thing that’s ever happened to you! You got married when you were like, what? Eight? Welcome back to the world—grab a spoon!”

“Though, your options are a bit more limited seeing as you’re the only straight one in this room,” you chimed, lifting your head from Joey’s side with a sleepy grin. Ross shot you a dirty look. 

“Honestly, I don’t know if I’m horny or hungry.”

“Ugh, you’re gross,” you complained, letting your eyes slip back shut. 

Groaning in disgust, Chandler backed away. “Stay out of my freezer.”

 Ross sighed heavily, sliding down the wall and slumping against it as if he were a ragdoll. There was a beer can in his hand, one that he claimed was Carol’s favorite drink, and he took a long swig. 

“Grab a spoon, pfft,” Ross mocked. “Do you know how long it’s been since I grabbed a spoon? You know, even if I could get it together to ask a woman out, who’d I ask?”

Exhaling softly, you moved away from Joey (much to his dismay, he was just getting warm with you cozying up to his side), and sat down beside Ross.

“Hey, dude,” you said, nudging his arm. “It’s okay if you haven’t grabbed a spoon in a while. Grabbing spoons as quickly as you can won’t instantly make things better. Things like this take time—you don’t have to rush into anything. Whatever happens, happens man. You’ll be okay. I mean, it’s not like either of you did anything wrong. It’s just life, you know?”

Tears pricked the corners of Ross’ eyes. He ducked his head so you wouldn’t see, but you knew they were there nonetheless.

“Thanks, Y/N,” he mumbled, sniffling. Pursing your lips, you roped him into an embrace.

“Well, isn’t that nice?” Chandler said, biting down on a slice of pizza. He turned to Joey again with a furrowed brow. “Now back to the things that are actually important. Why on earth do you think I’m raspberry sorbet?”

The next morning, you found yourself having breakfast at Monica’s place, sitting between Chandler and Joey, who had just dumped the coffee Rachel made for them into your cup of tea while her back was turned. 

You kicked both of them underneath the table, but smiled sweetly when Rachel came back, surprised at how quickly the two boys had downed their coffee.

“Would you like some?” Rachel asked. “It’s my first time making it!”

“No!” you blurted out, embarrassingly quick. “Sorry, I’m just—trying to cut back on caffeine.”

“Suit yourself,” she replied, before leaning back against the sink. “I do have a question for you guys though—do you, uhm… all have jobs?”

Monica cocked her head, biting into her buttered toast. “Yeah, we all have jobs. See, that’s how we buy things.”

“Ugh, capitalism,” you muttered under your breath, taking a sip of your mug before realizing that it was full of the bitter coffee that Rachel made, and tried to discreetly spit it back out. Joey noticed however, and patted your back sympathetically.

“You and your fancy words, Y/N,” he said, as if you were just making the word up.

Rachel pulled the dark bathrobe tighter around her figure. “What do all of you do?”

“Well, you know I’m a chef,” said Monica. “Y/N is a physicist, Joey is an actor, and Chandler… uhm… Chandler plays with numbers and data and all that.”

“Wow! Would I have seen you in anything?” she asked Joey.

“Eh, mostly regional work—”

“He was in that Wee One’s production of Pinocchio,” you put in, earning yourself a pinch to the thigh. You grinned at him cheekily.

Chandler barked out a laugh, mimicking the line of, “Look Geppeto, I’m a real live boy!”

“I’m not taking this abuse,” said Joey, standing up to head to the door.

The two of you apologized quietly, before Chandler abruptly stood up and pranced out the door singing, “Once I was a wooden boy, a little wooden boy!”

Joey followed him back to their apartment, yelling out obscenities along the way.

You rolled your eyes. “Love to talk more, ladies, but I’ve gotta head to work.”

“What exactly do you do, though?” Rachel asked. It wasn’t often that you saw someone genuinely curious about your work, other than Ross. 

“I specialize in quantum physics—I do quite a bit of research for my field, and propose theories, and sometimes I lecture students working on their doctorate degrees. In fact, that was how I met Ross—we were both teaching at the same university for a couple months and became friends, and through him, I met the rest of the group.”

Rachel blinked at you with amazement. “That sounds amazing! Do you know how I could get one of those?”

“Er… what?”

“You know. A job. Like the rest of you have.”

Sending Monica a confused glance, you said, “Rachel, have you never had a job before?”

“Well,” she taps her finger against her lips, “I’ve babysat for cash before. Does that count?”

“Oh, honey,” simpered Monica from beside Rachel. “Good luck finding one. I’m sure there’s plenty of restaurants or cafes looking to hire a waitress.”

The memory of the waitress from yesterday flashed into your mind—with her pretty eyes and sweet smile… 

You shook your head, before checking the time. You blanched upon seeing that you were nearly late for your presentation. “Gosh, I gotta run. See you guys later!”

That night, the entire friend group sat around Rachel as she hovered over all the credit cards she had that were paid by her father.

“Come on, give her a break. It’s hard to live on your own for the first time,” Phoebe said.

Rachel frowned at the nice words, as if she was going to cry. “Oh, thank you, Pheebs.”

“Yeah, I remember I was fourteen and my mom had just killed herself and my stepdad was in prison! I didn’t know anybody, so I ended up living with this albino guy who was cleaning windshields outside Port Authority. And then, heh, what do you know, he killed himself, too. Then I found aromatherapy! So believe me, I know exactly how you feel.” The blonde smiled sweetly, and you couldn’t help but give her a one-armed hug from the side.

“Here,” Monica said, handing Rachel a pair of large orange scissors. “Just cut ‘em. You’ll feel so much better afterwards.”

The group began chanting ‘cut, cut, cut!’ as if it were some sort of cult ritual. Finally, Rachel straightened herself and cut through each of the cards, lips puckered in a pout.

“Welcome to the real world,” said Chandler.

“It sucks,” you chimed.

“You’re gonna love it!” exclaimed Monica.

The waitress was staring at you again. You could feel her eyes practically boring holes into the back of your neck. Apprehensively, you turned ever so slightly to meet her gaze, but she quickly pretended to be busy with wiping down the counters.

Joey snapped his fingers in front of your face, bringing your attention back to him.

“Are you even listening?” he asked. 

“No,” you replied easily, which made him snort out a laugh.

Monica gestured wildly as she explained again to the confused men. “It’s just, for us, kissing is as important as any part of it.”

“Yeah, right,” Joey scoffed. Once he realized that the three women were dead serious, he furrowed his brows. “Wait, you’re not pulling my leg?”

Nodding emphatically, Rachel said, “Everything you need to know is in that first kiss!”

With a shrug, Chandler put forth, “Yeah, I think for us, kissing is more like an opening act. It’s like the stand-up comedian you have to sit through before Pink Floyd comes out.”

Ross murmured his agreement rather sheepishly. “Right, and it’s not like we don’t like the comedian, it’s just that… that’s not why we bought the ticket.” 

“What about you, Y/N?” asked Phoebe. “Do you prefer the comedian or… Pink Floyd?”

With a hum, you traced the rim of your teacup with your pointer finger before sighing. “I don’t really have a concrete answer for that, honestly. Both the comedian and the actual show are great, but—sometimes I don’t even want the comedian at all, and sometimes I don’t want the show at all. It depends on the person and the situation.” A bit quieter, you tacked on, “Sometimes the longer the comedian drags on, the better the show’ll be after. And sometimes the comedian and the show perform at the same time—you guys gotta think outside the box, here.”

The rest of the group blinked at you owlishly. 

With a smile, Rachel whooped. “Y/N, you little devil! I didn’t know you were into foreplay! But you know what, you’re right. Maybe the comedian should never leave the stage!”

Heat flushed your cheeks at Rachel’s loud words. You wondered if the waitress could hear your conversation. “Woah, I never said that—”

“I’m confused,” Joey interjected. “Are we still talking about sex?”

You watched in amusement as Chandler and Joey began digging into Monica’s lasagne in search of Rachel’s lost wedding ring. A bit of sauce smeared over Joey’s cheek and you reached over to wipe it away with your thumb, muttering out how ridiculous they looked nearly elbow-deep in cheese and pasta.

There was a knock at the door, and when Monica swung it open, you were greeted with a forlorn Ross. Honestly, when wasn’t he forlorn these days?

“Hi,” he said, looking like he wanted a hole to open up in the ground and swallow him whole.

“Why the long face?” you asked, moving away from the pair rifling through the lasagna to the Geller siblings by the door. 

Ross’ voice cracked a little as he replied, “Carol’s pregnant.”

“I found it!” Phoebe exclaimed from behind you, which was funny because she didn’t have any lasagna on her hands while the other two boys held handfuls of the pasta. She held the ring up, covered in marinara sauce and small chunks of beef, holding it out to Rachel.

Monica’s face dropped in shock. “Wh-Wha—? Wh… What?” 

“Yeah. Do that for another two hours, and you might be where I am right now,” Ross said, walking into the apartment. 

Placing a hand on his shoulder, you led him to the couch for him to take a seat. “How do you fit into this whole thing?”

“Carol says she and Susan want me to be involved, but if I’m not comfortable with it—then I don’t have to be. Basically, it’s totally up to me.”

Phoebe called out from the sink as she washed her hands, “She’s so great! I miss her.”

They half-heartedly glared at her, but you stifled a laugh. 

“What does she mean by involved?” asked Monica.

“Presumably, the biggest part of your job is done!” Chandler added, which earned him a light punch to the shoulder.

Scratching his head, Ross loosened his tie, feeling like he was being suffocated. “They want me to go down to this sonogram thing with them tomorrow. I have no idea if I’m going or not. No matter what I do, though… I’m still going to be a father.”

Clattering from the kitchen made the group turn their heads to see Joey practically attacking the lasagna with a spoon that was far too big, shoveling the pasta into his mouth. At the incredulous stares, Joey flinched defensively. “What? This is still ruined, right?”

Ross stood beside the television as he showed everybody the sonogram of the baby, a smile etched permanently across his face. “Isn’t that just amazing?”

You were just about to chime in about how big they already look, but Joey beat you to it by asking, “What the hell am I supposed to be looking at? Is that its foot or its head?”

“If you tilt your head to the left and relax your eyes, it kinda looks like an old potato,” Phoebe said as she squinted in concentration at the screen.

Ross eyed her warily. “Then don’t do that.”

From beside you, Monica started tearing up, and you could hear her little sniffles. Man, do the Gellers cry a lot. You wrapped an arm around her waist and she leaned her head onto your shoulder as the two of you watched the sonogram. 

“How’d your date go, Pheebs?” you asked the blonde as she walked into Central Perk. 

She made a noise of discontent, tugging her light blue coat off. “Not so good. He walked me to the subway and said, ‘we should do this again’.”

The rest of the group grimaced, saved for Rachel, who appeared confused.

“What? He said they should do it again—isn’t that good?”

“Uh, no,” Monica interjected, raising a finger. “Loosely translated, ‘we should do this again’ means ‘you will never see me naked’!”

Rachel reared back. “Since when?” 

“Since always!” said Joey. “It’s, like, dating language. How ‘it’s not you’ always means ‘it is you’.”

Chandler nodded. “Or ‘you’re such a nice guy’ means ‘I’m going to be dating leather-wearing alcoholics and complaining about them to you’! Not speaking from personal experience or anything.”

“Or how ‘I think we should see other people’ means ‘hah! I already am!’” Phoebe added.

“And everybody just knows this? Y/N, you’re the smart one. Is this true?”

You shrugged a shoulder. “Well, I’d say it’s less about the phrase itself and more about how people use it nowadays. Nobody says ‘you’re such a nice guy’ without some sort of intention of friendzoning them, right?” 

Rachel still appeared miffed, so Joey piped up, “Yeah, it cushions the blow.”

“Like when you’re a kid and your parents put your old dog to sleep and they tell you it went off to live on some farm,” Chandler explained.

From opposite you, Ross’ eyes lit up. “That’s funny, because our parents actually did send our dog off to live on a farm!”

The rest of the group stared at him. 

“Uh, Ross—?” Monica started.

“Hello? The Milner’s farm in Connecticut? You don’t remember that? The Milners, they had this unbelievable farm and they had horses and rabbits that he could chase and…” The words died on his tongue as it slowly began to dawn upon him. “Oh, my God, Chi-Chi!”

The couch sank beneath your weight as you sat down, Joey’s script in hand.

“How could you do this to me, Tom? I thought we were best friends,” you read off the paper, trying your best not to laugh at Joey’s concentrated expression.

Joey was walking around with his hands perched on his hips, uttering the next line, “I was never only your friend. I loved you.”

The two of you looked at each other for a moment, before you allowed a smile to break through.

“That was great, Jo!”

“Yeah?” He cuffed you on the shoulder with a genuine grin. “Let’s keep going.”

It was then that Chandler walked out from his room, waving hello to you. “What’re you two doing?”

“Practicing,” Joey replied. “Got a big audition coming up.”

Clearing your throat, you read the next line, standing up so you’d be able to face Joey. “What do you expect me to say, Tom?”

Joey shook his head, shoulders slumping. You couldn’t help but be impressed at how quickly he could fall into character. “Tell me you love me back.”

“I…” You stared at him, watching the way his gaze would dart from your eyes to your lips, and back up again. Man, he was a great actor. “I can’t tell you that.”

He sighed, resigned. “Then I’m going out for a smoke.”

Brandishing a cigarette from his pocket, he used a lighter to set off the end, before inhaling sharply. Not a second later, he was coughing with a grimace plastered across his face. “Damn it! How am I ever going to get the part if I don’t know how to smoke properly? This tastes awful.”

“Relax your hand,” Chandler chimed, sitting down on the couch. “Let your wrist go. No, wait, not so much. Alright, good. Now try taking a puff.”

Inhaling softly this time, Joey looked to the side, white plumes falling from the edges of his lips. He coughed once more. “Nope, no. I hate this!”

“Okay, no, give it to me.”

“I’m not giving you a cigarette!” Joey protested, pulling his arm away.

“No, it’s fine. You wanna get this part or not?”

You sat back down, grinning. “If it’s any motivation, I think smoking is hot. I don’t find smokers hot because, you know—lung cancer and everything—but the act of smoking? That’s hot.”

Joey narrowed his eyes at you, before reluctantly handing Chandler the cigarette.

“Alright, don’t think of it as a cigarette. Think of it as the thing that has been missing from your hand. When you’re holding it, you feel right. You feel complete.” Slowly, he brought it up to his mouth to take a puff, and as soon as his lips touched the end, he let out a loud groan as he exhaled. “Oh, my God.”

You had to wrestle him to take the cigarette away before he could breathe in any more. 

Later that night, you were back at Central Perk, sitting by Monica, who had her hand extended out in front of her. “They say that it’s from the tip of a guy’s thumb to the tip of his index finger.”

The three men, Ross, Chandler, and Joey, began extending their own hands, looking at the distance with disdain. 

You chortled a laugh when Ross asked if he could use either thumb.

Rachel strode up to the couches with a tray full of drinks. “Alright, don’t tell me! Decaf cappuccino for Joey, black coffee for Ross, latte for Chandler, peppermint mocha for Y/N, and an iced tea for Monica!”

She handed out each drink with a proud grin, and none of you had the heart to tell her that she had gotten every drink mixed up—save for yours. You began nursing your mocha with a small grin to her.

“I’m getting pretty good at this!” she exclaimed. God, she was so cute, you thought fondly as she walked away to take another customer’s order.

When her back was turned, the drinks were finally switched around, and you watched in amusement as they hurriedly exchanged mugs. It was then that Phoebe walked in, making incoherent noises and hands fluttering about as she muttered.

“You okay, Phoebe?” asked Joey. 

She waved him away. “Yeah, no, it’s not even worth—okay, I guess I’ll tell you guys about it. It’s my bank!”

Monica leaned forward. “What did they do to you?”

“I open up my mail and look at my monthly statement, and there’s five hundred extra dollars in my account!”

“Congrats!” you exclaimed just as Chandler sarcastically gasped out, “Satan’s minions at work again!”

“Now I have to go down there and deal with them,” Phoebe moped.

“What’re you talkin’ about?” crowed Joey. “Keep it!”

Vehemently, Phoebe shook her head. “No, it’s not mine! I didn’t earn it! If I kept it, it’d be like stealing!”

Rachel came back around with a cup of coffee, leaning over to tell Phoebe, “Yeah, but if you spent it, it’d be like shopping!” 

“Okay, but I’d never be able to enjoy it, you know? It’d be like this giant karmic debt!” she cried out, clearly frustrated with the entire ordeal. 

You would’ve replied with something to comfort her, but the thought was torn from you when you noticed Chandler awkwardly bent over the couch, as if trying to hide something.

“Dude, what are you doing?” you asked, peering over to look. “Damn it, Chandler!” you yelled, grabbing him by the belt and hauling him upright. 

With a roll of his eyes, he sat up, white smoke falling from his mouth as he blew out, defeated.

“Gross!” Monica yelled.

“You’ve been so good for three years, I can’t believe you!” said Phoebe. 

“And this,” Chandler held up the cigarette, “is my reward!”

Shaking his head, Ross held a hand out. “Hold on a second, remember what happened the last time you quit?”

“Okay, so this time I won’t quit! If anything, you should be angry at Joey and Y/N, they were smoking it all up in our apartment this morning!”

The two of you gasped. “No, we weren’t! I hate smoking!” Joey yelled. “Y/N was the one that said smoking was hot!”

You smacked his arm. “The act of it is, actual smokers aren’t hot! Don’t you remember what I said about lung cancer? Chandler, don’t pin the blame on us, you chose to smoke!”

Exasperated, Chandler groaned. “Fine. I’m putting it out.” He threw the cigarette into Phoebe’s coffee, much to her dismay. 

“Alright,” Monica said, inching away from the group. “I gotta change—I’ve got a date soon.” You briefly remembered her mentioning that things hadn’t gone so well with Paul, so she was exploring the dating pool once again.

“Is this Alan again?” Rachel asked excitedly. “How’s it going?”

A smile spread across Monica’s features. “It’s going good! He’s nice.” 

“So when do we get to meet the guy?” asked Joey.

“Hm…” Monica tapped a finger against her lips. “Never. See you guys!”

“Come on!” the group exclaimed after her. 

“No!” she said. “Not after what happened with Steve!”

Snorting, Chandler shook his head. “What are you talking about? We loved Shteve. Shteve wash shexy!”

The rest of the group hid their laughter behind cups of coffee. 

“Look, I don’t even know how I feel about him yet. Just give me a chance to figure it out.”

“Then we can meet him?” asked Rachel, hopeful.

Monica grinned. “Nope! Bye, guys!” With that, she skipped out of the cafe. 

You drank the rest of your mocha, placing the mug onto the table and leaving a large tip for Rachel beneath the cup—you were honestly quite flattered that out of all the orders, she had gotten yours right. 

“I better get going, too.”

“What?” asked Joey. “Where are you going?”

“Uh…” You scratched the back of your neck. “Work.”

Ross arched a brow. “I thought you said you had the day off today. What’s going on?”

“Oh, my God!” Phoebe exclaimed. “You’re seeing someone!”

The group burst out into a dozen questions at once and you held your hands up. “Woah, woah! I’m not seeing someone, I just—” 

“Is it that waitress that gave you her number?” Joey interrupted, a bit less enthusiastic than everybody else. 

Heat crawled up your neck and festered into your face. “Yeah, but it’s not a date,” you sighed. “It’s just a casual meet up.”

“So… sex,” Chandler deadpanned.

You rolled your eyes. “Yes, sex. Don’t be such a child about it.”

“How long have you been doing this?” Rachel gasped, resting a hand on your arm. “And why didn’t you tell me?” she asked, a little whiny. 

“Around, uh, a week, I think? And I didn’t tell you because it just feels… I don’t know, embarrassing?”

“Oh, honey, you don’t have to be embarrassed around us!”

Joey blanched. “A week? How many times have you guys done it?”

“Oh, God, Joey, I’m not going to tell you about my sex life. I’m running late already—I’ll see you guys later!”

With that, you practically dashed out of the cafe, heart beating irregularly quickly and cheeks set aflame.

“Do you all promise?” 

Ross rolled his eyes. “Yes, Mon, we promise we’ll be good.”

You nodded with a sweet smile in hopes of quelling her growing anxiety of letting her closest friends meet a guy she was dating. 

Not a second later, Phoebe stormed into Monica’s apartment, sitting down right beside you and showing you a letter from her bank. 

“Dear Ms. Buffay, thank you for calling attention to our error. We have credited your account five hundred dollars. We’re sorry for the inconvenience, and hope you’ll accept this football phone as our free gift.” She pulled out a large brown phone in the shape of, what do you know, a football, looking so cross you could’ve sworn steam was coming out of her ears. “Can you believe this? Now I have a thousand dollars and a football phone!”

Blinking in astonishment, Rachel snatched the letter from you, exclaiming, “What bank is this?”

The door rang, cutting any further questions about Phoebe’s strange bank off. 

“He’s here!” Rachel exclaimed, throwing the letter away somewhere behind her, clapping her hands excitedly.

Before Monica opened the door, she clasped her hands together and addressed the entire group. “Please be good. Please? Remember how much you like me and try not to make fun of him too much.”

“So?” Monica started, anxiously brushing dark strands of hair away from her face. “Let the Alan-bashing begin. Who’s gonna take the first shot?”

The group awkwardly glanced at each other, strangely silent. 

If you had to admit, you rather liked Alan. He was funny, charming, and had real pretty eyes.

“I’ll go,” said Ross. “Let’s start with the way he kept… ugh, no, I’m sorry, I can’t. Can’t do it! We loved him.”

The rest of them chimed in their agreement enthusiastically.

“Wait a minute, we’re talking about someone that I’m going out with?” Monica asked, incredulous.

“Know what was great? The way his smile was kind of crooked,” Joey sighed, dreamily looking off into space. 

With a scoff, you slapped his thigh. “Watch it, Joey. Wouldn’t want you catching feelings for Monica’s boyfriend here.”

“Jealous, much? Want me all to yourself?” he asked flirtatiously, leaning down closer to you. You wrinkled your nose and shoved him away.

The rest of the group began chattering about Alan again, and how he did the best impression of David Hasselhoff.

You turned back to Joey. “Both of us know you can’t stick to one person, Jo.” Your words were meant to be teasing and light-hearted, but you couldn’t help but notice the way Joey’s face fell just a bit at your words.

“I can stick to you,” he said, uncharacteristically softly, fingers threading between yours. “You’re a pretty sticky person, you know?”

“Har, har, har. That’s funny, Joey,” you crooned sarcastically. “Also really gross. Don’t call me sticky ever again.”

Joey smiled at you, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. You decided not to say anything about it, and turned your attention back to the group and listened to them fawn over Alan.

Back at Central Perk, you had just come out of the bathroom in time to hear the gang berating Chandler for smoking again, and you sat down between Ross and Joey on the large couch. 

“This is so unfair,” Chandler barked, blowing out white plumes of smoke. “So I have a flaw—big fucking deal! Like Joey’s constant knuckle-cracking isn’t annoying? Or Ross, with his over-pronouncing every goddamn word! And Monica, with that snort when she laughs! Or when Y/N refuses to get Chinese takeout because they use styrofoam containers and they hate the sound of styrofoam! I haven’t had Chinese takeout in months! I accept all of those flaws, why can’t you accept me for this?”

The entire group pursed their lips and dejectedly hung their heads in silence.

“You can just order Chinese takeout on your own,” you grumbled under your breath. “You don’t always have to have me there.”

“Yeah, well, then I’d feel bad!” replied Chandler, crossing his arms like a child. “I’d be chewing on my pork dumplings and thinking—man, I betrayed one of my closest friends for this.”

“Does the knuckle cracking bother everybody, or just him?” asked Joey, hands glued firmly to his sides, as if he had to consciously remind himself not to crack them. 

Placing a hand on his shoulder, you faked a look of reassurance, before deadpanning, “We could live without it, Jo.”

“Is it just a little annoying? Or is it like when Phoebe chews her hair?”

As if on cue, Phoebe spat out locks of blonde that she was working between her teeth. You coughed to hide your growing smile. 

“Don’t listen to him, Pheebs, alright? I think it’s endearing,” said Ross.

Joey frowned, then spoke again, over-enunciating each word. “Oh, you do, do you?”

Monica snort-laughed, which made Chandler gesture erratically towards her. 

“There’s nothing wrong with speaking correctly!” Ross defended.

“Indeed, there isn’t!” Rachel proudly gesticulated, also poking fun at Ross with overstretched syllables. At Ross’ withering glare, she squeaked, “I should really get back to work!” 

“Otherwise, someone might get what they actually ordered,” Phoebe muttered quietly, but not quiet enough for Rachel not to hear.

The brunette’s jaw dropped. “Oh, so the hair comes out and the gloves come on!”

The entire group burst into a raucous argument, and you found yourself somehow defending and protesting against both Phoebe and Joey at the same time. From the corner of your eye, you could see Chandler get up and walk away with a skip in his step, and a lit cigarette in hand.

It was a little past two in the morning. You had barely thrown anything on except for a worn black hoodie and a pair of jeans that had holes in the pockets. But you just needed to leave—it felt like you couldn’t breathe in your own apartment.

A part of you considered going to Monica’s. 

But for some reason unbeknownst to you, you found yourself in front of Joey’s bedroom, having gotten through their front door with an emergency spare key they had given you. This wasn’t really an emergency, but you’ve used it for lesser reasons.

Swallowing down the lump in your throat, you knocked on the door.

A couple seconds later, a groggy Joey swung it open, dark hair messily strewn over his head. He was rubbing his fists into his eyes, muffling a yawn as he said, “Oh, hi, Y/N. You missed a lot this afternoon—Chandler quit smoking, Phoebe found a thumb in a can of soda and got seven thousand bucks for it, Monica broke up with Alan and I’m obviously devastated about it but—”

He immediately stopped in his brief recap of the day when he finally looked at you properly, noticing the way your eyes were puffy and red, as if you’d been crying. There were dried tear tracks on your cheeks, barely visible beneath the dim moonlight streaming through the window across the room. 

“Hey, hey,” his hands were on your shoulders instantly, roping you closer to him in a warm embrace. You buried your head into his chest, lips trembling as you staved away the burning urge to sob right into him. “Are you okay? What’s going on?”

Gently, he led you into his room, sitting you down on his bed. 

“I don’t even know… it’s not that big of a deal, I just… felt so overwhelmed,” you croaked, pulling your knees up to your chest. 

“What happened?” he asked, sitting down beside you and slinging a protective arm over your back. 

“You remember that waitress that I had a thing with?”

Joey hummed.

“Well, she’s married. And she’s got a kid. I didn’t know, obviously. I just… I don’t know. She told me while we were messing around, like—how fucked up is that? I mean, it’s bad enough that you’re using me to cheat on someone that you’ve got a kid with, but it’s even worse to bring that up while we were… doing it, you know? I told her to leave and she begged me to hear her out. She wouldn’t go, and got angry at me for some fucking reason, so I told her I’d leave the apartment and if she wasn’t gone by the time I got back I’d call the cops on her. I know it wasn’t really my fault but—I still feel terrible about it. I don’t want to be the reason a family falls apart, Joey.” 

You were shaking against him, and a stray tear meandered down your cheek. 

There wasn’t really much Joey could say. He was never very good at comforting people.

He pressed a kiss to your cold forehead, brushing away haphazard strands of hair. 

“You wanna stay over?” he offered, patting his bed. “I can sleep on the couch.”

Wordlessly, you pulled back his comforter and laid down, exhausted beyond relief. 

Joey patted your back one more time for good measure, before getting up to head to the living room.

“No,” you mumbled, hand loosely wrapping around his wrist. “Please stay here with me.”

Hesitant, he asked, “You sure?”

Joey never got a response—you had already fallen asleep. With a shrug, he slid into the bed beside you, winding his arms over you and cradling you from behind. His nose pressed into your shoulder and he inhaled sharply, noting with pleasant surprise that you smelled like blueberries. 

“Good night, Y/N.”

You shifted in his hold so that your arm laid over his that was thrown over your waist. 

Joey fell into an easy, dreamless sleep in no less than a minute.

[lady-october]

Pairing : Oli Sykes x Female Assistant Genre : Romance, Smut (18+ Only) Previous Chapters : Available on Ao3 & Tumblr

Story Content : Smut, Drama, Choking, Power dynamics, Romance, Rough sex, Sadism/Masochism, Dom/Sub, Mentions of addiction & self harm, Degradation, Praise kink, Exhibitionism, Orgasm denial, Breath play, Dirty talk.

Summary :

“Don’t you see what a dangerous game you’re playing? Why did you have to look so fucking delicious tonight, I couldn’t stop undressing you in my mind, thinking of all the twisted things I want to do to you.” She had only worked on the touring team for three weeks, but her mind had been hijacked by dirty thoughts of a man she barely even talked to. Sure, he was very attractive, but were there other reasons she was so uncontrollably drawn to him? This is a filthy story of pain, self discovery, and love.

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Chapter 27: You monsters are people

Chapter title is lyrics from “Obey” 

This chapter is from Oli’s perspective. 

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I can’t believe she stayed. 

As soon as the words had left my mouth, I’d regretted it. But being inside her, being surrounded by her scent, her legs wrapped around me, her large blue eyes set in that flushed, soft face, how was I supposed to keep the words to myself? 

How was I expected to not express my love for such a perfect sight? 

I’d been working overtime for days to keep from telling her I love her, knowing it was too soon, especially for someone like Alice.  

And then I’d gone and told her twice within the span of a couple of hours. 

I let my hands rake over my face as I shook my head under the shower head, the warm water cascading around my vision, turning the tiles wavy. 

I’m so fed up with myself. 

Regardless of my self-indulgent recklessness last night, she’d still stayed, faced her demons, and let me know she’s trying. 

And now it was my turn to return the favour. 

But how was I supposed to deal with my current problems, when dead and buried demons were suddenly crawling out of their overgrown graves, reminding me that maybe they hadn’t been properly dealt with in the first place? 

I thought I’d shed the shackles Fay had put around my ankles at this point, but in so many ways I’m still the same person I was a year ago when I read her texts. I still crave the validation, the attention she offers me so readily. So greedily. 

I’m not completely daft though, I know she’s just manipulating me, just like she’s always manipulated me. Controlling me in ways I feel powerless against. The difference is that I didn’t use to care. In fact, I welcomed it, because I wanted to spend every moment with her regardless of her intentions.  

It only became a problem when we were no longer on the same page. 

I also knew why she was the way she was, which made it even harder to judge her for it. 

You see, I may have always been drawn to troubled women, but Fay’s the most troubled of them all. 

By a long shot. 

She may not be suicidal in the typical sense, but she lives her life like there’s no tomorrow, continuously reckless in ways that usually guarantees becoming worm food prematurely. 

You’d think most of her wild traits could be chalked up to growing up with her addict mum, who were either not home for days on end, or blacked out on the sofa when she was. Or maybe even by the fact that she croaked from an overdose when Fay was barely a teen. 

But personally, I think most of it could be explained by being left in the care of her extremely abusive stepfather once her mum was out of the picture. 

About two years ago when it was still Mat and Fay, we’d all gone to stay in Birmingham to hunker down and spend a full week focused on writing and recording a new EP.  

This also happens to be the week me and Fay fell in love.  

Every night was sleepless, which wasn’t uncommon for me, but it turned out Fay also had her slumber related problems. This meant we’d spend hours every night together, oversharing, getting to know each other on an inappropriately personal level considering her relationship status with my best mate. 

I wasn’t used to opening up to people, but the very first night Fay had told me about her childhood, and it all just spiralled from there. Naturally – and because I’m a fucking mess – I was immediately enthralled by this seemingly mythical being, so fun, yet terrifyingly disturbed. 

What was so shocking about her was how casually she talked about her life, like it was the most normal thing in the world.  

Which, to be fair, to her it was.  

My earliest taste of this came on the second night of the trip.  We’d been talking about our mutual love for animals, when she interjected with a long list of stray pets she’d rescued off the streets and hid from her stepdad.  

Only to follow it up with how she kept coming home to them having their necks broken once he’d found them.  

I’d been horrified, wondering how that would’ve affected her – how it still must affect her, when without skipping a beat, she’d move on with the conversation, going on a passionate tangent about climate change out of nowhere. 

It was bizarre, it was refreshing – it was alarming and worrisome. But in some weird way it was also strangely comforting, knowing that even though she was deeply traumatised, and clearly unhealed, she still had a zest for life.  

Albeit maybe a bit too much zest.  

The last night of the trip was the most memorable to me. 

She’d been laying on the balcony table for about an hour, staring up into the night sky as it slowly shifted and changed to brighter colours. I’d been distracted by the silk robe she’d worn, and how her long, bright red hair was hanging over the edge of the table, halfway to the concrete floor. She was reminiscing about a hike she’d gone on with a group of friends, when she broke out into the most delightful laughter, smiling from ear to ear before rolling over to finally face me. It was like I was staring into the eyes of a deity, some ancient goddess, when she reached out to trace one of the skull-motifs inked into the skin of my arm. 

“I have something so similar to this one,” She’d started, her fingers still playing on my skin, the innocent touch feeling so charged, so forbidden in the deep hours of the night, it threatened goosebumps to form as I fought off the urge to stare straight down her cleavage, “I’d show you, but I don’t think Mat would be too happy about it.” 

While she wasn’t as covered in tattoos as me, she wasn’t too far off. And from her implication that the placement of the art piece in question was somewhere I shouldn’t be looking, I could immediately imagine it on her inner thigh, considering I may have caught a glimpse of the bottom of it earlier tonight. 

Which in turn had me imagine more things that caused blood to flow in places they shouldn’t be as I inevitably allowed my eyes to fall to her chest, so poorly covered by her robe. 

But through the fog of dirty thoughts and fought off impulses, I realised she was trying to seduce me, which forced me to take a step back and analyse what’s been going on the past week.  

And that maybe we’d both been trying to seduce each other. 

“Think it’s time to sleep.” I muttered before getting to my feet, knowing I was in deep, deep shit. 

“Stay,” she breathed, taking hold of the arm she’d been tracing, “It’s our last night here, and you haven’t told me about your addiction yet.” 

I was confused, as I’d already shared how it all started, and about my time in rehab. As far as I was aware, I’d told her everything there was to know about my addiction. 

“What are you on about, of course I have.” I countered, thrown off once again by the continuous sudden change of topics and moods that Fay seemed to come pre-programmed with.  

She let go of my arm, sitting up, and allowed her legs to dangle over the edge of the table before she spoke, “You’ve told me nothing I can’t read online,” She scanned my face with her dark eyes, such a deep brown they were pitch black in most lights, “What’s so terrible about you that you don’t want to be yourself?” 

I wanted to tell her I wasn’t there mentally anymore, that I was better now – happy and recovered.  

But I knew I’d be lying.  

Addiction is like weeds; you can clear them as thoroughly as you want, but if you don’t tend to them regularly, your whole garden will be overgrown before you know it. 

And I was a master of pretending everything was fucking dandy when they weren’t. 

“You sure you want to talk about that?” I asked, thinking of her mother’s history with drugs. 

She let out a laugh I’d heard her do several times before – mostly when discussing a sensitive subject. It was slightly manic, her eyes sparkling with mischief, “Why, because my deadbeat mom overdosed? Oh please. Just tell me, Oliver.” 

I hated it when she called me by my full name, and she knew I hated it from the moment we were introduced. 

Yet she didn’t stop until months into our relationship, claiming that Oli was a stupid British nickname, and since she’s American she was very adamant about rejecting the shortened version of my given name. 

Despite my better judgement, I sat back down, not wanting our week to end on a bad note. 

Even though I knew we’d have to stop hanging out alone after tonight, no matter how sad that thought made me. 

Especially because of how sad that thought made me. 

“It’s not that I think I’m terrible, necessarily. But it’s like my emotions are always dialled up to max, and there’s no shutting them off.” 

She grimaced at my response, “I feel a lot too, but that’s a great thing, and I would never want to turn them off. They’re what makes me feel alive; I cry, I scream, I laugh, I love, I fuck – and I feel better for it.” 

She forgot to mention that she plays Russian roulette with her life every so often by being an adrenaline junkie in the worst of ways. 

And no, I hadn’t overlooked how she put emphasis on the word fuck. Or the way it had me imagine her dark eyes looking up at me as her full lips closed around my shaft. 

“I wish it was that simple for me, love.” I responded under my breath. 

“Why can’t it be that simple?” 

“Because I’m a bomb.” 

There was a short pause as she considered my words, “Explain.” 

I got more comfortable in my seat again, preparing to unpack such a deep part of myself, unsure whether it was the early morning hours that made me comfortable enough to do so, or whether there was just something special about Fay. 

I took a deep breath, “If I let my feelings run amuck, I’d probably burst wide open. I’d get so fucking furious with the state of the world, or with how little anyone seems to give a shit, that I couldn’t think straight. On the other side of that, if I let myself love to my full potential,” I shook my head, “That’s a terrifying thought to be honest with you, cause I don’t know how far I’d take that. Pretty sure I’d completely lose myself, and drive anyone on the receiving end of it fucking mad in the process.” 

As I spoke Fay’s eyes burrowed into me, lighting up with the passion of a thousand suns.  

I’d later found out that it had been those words that made her fall in love with me, that she’d been searching high and low for a man that loved with as much intensity as she does, and after that night she was determined to become mine. 

I had to look away from her deep stare in order to finish making my point, “But when I get high, my feelings shut off, and for a while I’m free of all that. I get to just exist, without being exhausted from keeping myself restrained all the time.” 

“You’re talking about yourself like you’re some kind of monster that needs to be put down.” 

“Not put down, but I don’t think I should be let off my leash.” 

“Unless you’re talking about some kind of kinky play, I disagree.” 

I laughed. 

“You should try it. Next time you want to get high cause you hate your feelings so much, just let them do their thing.” She leaned forward, giving me a better view of her cleavage as her demeanour shifted; it was a very subtle shift, but it was more than enough to highlight the already undeniable sexual tension between us, “And whatever urges you get, give in to them. It might not be as bad as you think.” 

In a desperate attempt to keep my mind out of the gutter, and to prevent myself from pulling her into my lap right this moment, I conjured up images of my parents. 

And thankfully, it worked quickly, and well enough to keep myself in check. 

“Don’t think that’s a good idea, love.” My voice had dropped several octaves, giving away that I’d been considering doing what she was very clearly suggesting. 

A seductive smile bloomed on her lips, “Why?” 

“Because I have enough regrets as it is. I’ve no plans to add to my list of things that keep me up at night.” 

The look she gave me was that of a child who had their favourite toy taken away from them. 

As I got out of the chair to head to bed – alone – I couldn’t help but wonder what had Fay as sleepless as myself.  

Or how much regret she was repressing from living her life the way she did. 

But one thing I knew for sure was that she’d been hurt – badly. And hurt people who haven’t dealt with their pain, very easily hurt others. 

While I didn’t give in to my urges that night, once me and Fay did become a couple, I would quickly discover the full range of ways she’d inflict pain on me. 

It started with harmless manipulations to get her way in minor arguments, which was easy enough to overlook, especially when you’re falling head over heels for someone. 

Which I definitely was. 

Considering how hard and fast I was falling, it didn’t take much convincing for me to do as she’d suggested that night on the balcony. So, I gave in, submitting to my feelings in a way I hadn’t quite done before when it comes to love. 

It was so liberating, so wonderful, to just let myself worship her; to tell her I love her a million times a day without judgement, to have it so readily reciprocated, and allow myself to request as much of her time and attention as I craved. 

I was so convinced that she was the best thing that had ever happened to me, that of course I didn’t bat an eye when I noticed the small white lies. Surely she only lied to protect me, because she loves me so much. 

But the small lies grew bigger, the innocent manipulations turned sinister, and about 10 months into the relationship she’d almost always choose revenge over peace whenever we’d argue. She’d do things like ramp up her thrill-seeking behaviour to get me worried for her safety, or intentionally make me jealous – which, I am not proud of having done to Alice. 

But there’s a reason they call it the cycle of abuse. 

And now I’m the hurt person who apparently hasn’t dealt with their pain, hurting others in the process. 

Turning off the shower I wrapped a towel around myself before stepping in front of the fogged-up mirror over the hotel sink, giving it a wipe to take a good, hard look at myself. 

The eyes looking back at me were bloodshot, accompanied by dark circles and a scowl.  

While I’d fallen asleep fairly quickly last night, I’d been jarred awake by the usual nightmares so early it was still dark out, and I’d spent the hours since pondering what to do next. 

And while there were several pressing matters, all roads seemed to lead back to Alice. 

Do I tell her the truth about everything, or do I share the watered-down version I’d planned to relay last night before we got interrupted? 

I exhaled a shaky breath as the man in the mirror’s features turned increasingly panicked. 

Alice wasn’t wrong; you really are a fucking coward. 

Suddenly a loud bang could be heard from outside the bathroom, and I quickly realised it was the sound of the hotel room door slamming shut. 

Almost as if someone had stormed out of here. 

I launched for the bathroom door, ripping it open only to be met with an empty room. 

In the middle of the floor, I could see my phone lying face down, moved from its original position on the bedside table. 

Fuck. 

Dread washed over me, knowing what Alice must have seen on my phone to make her dash out of here in such a rush – the same thing I’d seen every time I’d looked at it since I’d accidentally messaged Fay. 

I wasted no time, collecting my phone and dashed towards Alice’s room, only for the shortest of moments registering that I’m soaking, and just clad in a towel around my waist. 

“Alice!” I yelled after several vigorous knocks on the door, “Let me in, it’s not what you think!” 

I threw a quick glance at my screen to see what Alice might have read. 

“Fay: I can’t wait to see you.” 

“Shit.” I breathed through clenched teeth. 

“Alice!” I yelled louder as more panic set in, knocking the door so hard it rattled. 

Realising she might’ve not even gone to her room, I pressed my ear to the solid wood to listen for any sounds inside, only to almost fall face first into the room when the door suddenly flew open. But instead of falling I was shoved by a furious Liam, who had sent me stumbling backwards, nearly hitting the wall on the opposite side of the hotel corridor from the force he’d used. 

He was clearly a fair bit stronger than he looks. 

“I don’t know what the fuck you did to that poor woman, but there’s not a chance I’m letting you see her.” 

“She thinks I’m chattin’ up another bird – I’m not!” I raised my voice, hoping Alice would hear as Liam had left the door ever so slightly ajar behind him. 

“Whatever.” He muttered, rolling his eyes, clearly not giving a rat’s arse about the specifics of the drama he’d been forced to take part in, before giving me a once over, “I need to go back in there. Get dressed, there’s kids staying here for fuck’s sake.” 

The door shut, and locked, with both Liam and Alice behind it. 

And I’d never felt so helpless. 

I took another step back and let myself lean against the wall I’d nearly slammed into moments ago, sliding down it as I tried to keep my heart from breaking entirely. 

My eyes were so full of tears that it took me a second to realise there was a pair of shoes in my peripheral vision. I looked up to see Mat standing next to me, pity painted all over his face.  

I hadn’t heard any other doors open or shut, which meant he must have been in the corridor for the entire interaction. 

“Would you like a hand?” He asked, sounding sombre. 

I took his stretched-out hand and pulled myself up on unsteady feet, “Did you catch all that?” 

“Yeah. Wanna talk?” 

I wiped the tears away while attempting to keep the towel around my waist from falling to the floor.  

I was torn, because I knew Mat had asked me with the intention of being there for me. 

But it wasn’t just Alice I needed to have a serious discussion with. And I doubted he would want to console me after I come clean to him about everything. 

“Yeah.” I responded after I’d made my decision. 

We walked to my room where we once again took a seat on the floor, leaning against the bed. Only this time it was the bed me and Alice had just spent the night in, made abundantly obvious by her pile of clothes on the floor, next to the bag which she’d left during her swift escape. 

I watched as droplets fell from my soaking hair and hit the carpet as we sat in silence for a while, probably to let me collect myself. The cheery, sun-lit room a stark contrast from my dark and hopeless emotions, which seemed so impossible to fight. 

But I had to start somewhere. 

“I almost got high last night.” I said, breaking the silence. 

I threw a quick glance at Mat; he looked hurt. 

I couldn’t blame him. 

“I almost got high when we were in London too, sent an old dealer a message and everything.”  

The problem with saying things out loud is that they immediately become all too real.  

But since I was walking a dangerously fine line considering I didn’t know if things would work out between me and Alice, I needed it to become real. 

And I needed it to become real right now. 

I looked over at my trousers laying on top of my luggage. 

“I got some,” I started, whispered, the words feeling like acid pushing up my throat, knowing that as soon as I’d let them leave my lips, I wouldn’t have the option of going numb anymore. I inclined my head towards my belongings, “Last night at the club. It’s in my pocket.” 

I’d been staring at the seemingly harmless article of clothing all morning before going for a shower, being so incredibly tempted by it, only able to talk myself out of it because she stayed. 

Which I realise is extremely problematic. 

Mat sighed deeply, leaning forward to rake his hands through his hair. 

“I’m sorry man. I know we said I’d come to you if I ever got the urge to use again.” 

He looked so disappointed, and I hadn’t even gotten to the worst part yet. 

“I had some suspicions you weren’t doing great, but I had no clue you were on this thin ice. I just thought I’d give you a chance to come talk to me when you were ready.” He released a nervous laugh, “Actually I thought that maybe you were doing better the past week or so. You’ve been a bit off, sure, but you’ve also seemed quite happy a lot of the time.” 

I hadn’t expected such a peaceful response after my admission. In fact, I’d suspected him to tear me a new one. 

But then again, I wasn’t done talking yet. 

“Mat, I’m a lying piece of shit, and I have no excuses.” 

“I’m just happy you’re talking to me before you did something, this way—” 

“I’ve been hooking up with Alice since London.” I interrupted, the disbelief on his features adding to my ever-growing mountain of self-hatred, but I knew I needed to continue speaking, to rip the band aid off once and for all. My mouth hung open for a beat, suspended, as I gathered the courage to tell him how I feel, “I’m in love with her.” 

Mats’ features grew cold as he processed what I was saying, readjusting his position on the floor. 

“Why’d you let me look like a twat, thinking I had a shot with her?” He asked, an anger lacing his words. 

I watched more drops fall from my hair as I hung my head low, “I wish I could say it’s cause she wanted to keep it a secret, and sure that’s how it started, but she understood why I needed to be honest with you lot, considering our past.” I took a deep breath and forced myself to face him again, “The long and short of it is that I wanted to see if I could trust her – see if she’d run off to you instead.” 

He watched me under furrowed brows, “So, you were using me.” 

“Yeah.” I confirmed, feeling like a useless wet fucking rat. 

Mat let out a long exhale as he leaned back into the mattress behind us, “You remember that week in Birmingham, when we were recording about two years ago?” 

I tensed, remembering it as the week I wanted to steal his girlfriend, “Of course.” 

He sucked on his teeth, contemplating, “I didn’t sleep much that week. I would sit with the window cracked and listen to you and Fay talk for hours.” I was surprised, not just by what he was saying, but by how guilty he looked as he told me, “The whole week was hell, but I needed to know if I could count on her. Turns out I couldn’t.” 

Apparently, it wasn’t just me who was riddled with trust issues after all our overlapping romances. 

“How come you never told me?” 

Mat shrugged, “I don’t know, bit embarrassing, I guess.” There was another short pause as more guilt made an appearance on him, “Also, I didn’t just want to see if I could count on Fay, but you as well.” 

I could see why, especially with how much lying I’d done over the years. 

“Well, how did I do?” I asked awkwardly. 

“Better than me.” He said with a bitter smile, clearly referring to the fact that he’d slept with Fay when I was technically still with her. 

Appearing as if he remembered something, his features grew worried, “I never slept with Alice, but you should know there was stuff going on.” 

I sighed deeply, “I know.” 

The look he gave me was filled with confusion, “And you’re alright with that?” 

All I could do was shrug, “We’re not a couple. And at this rate I’m not sure we’ll ever be.” I said, knowing there was a real chance I’d scared her off for good this time. 

He opened his mouth, probably to say something hopeful and kind that would only serve to make me feel worse, so I hurried to speak before he got a chance to. 

“There’s one more thing.” I could see him bracing himself mentally for whatever I was about to say, but I knew he’d never expect this to come out of my mouth, “I’ve been talking to Fay.” 

“Fucking hell, Oli.” He looked utterly disgusted with me. 

Which reflected my own feelings about myself perfectly. 

“She’ll be at our next show.” I continued. 

Mat got to his feet. At first, I thought he was about to leave, but instead he just began angrily pacing back and forth in front of me. 

I felt like a kid who was about to get a scolding from their parents. 

He stopped and looked down at my pathetic self on the floor, “Did you invite her?” 

I shook my head, causing more droplets to fall all around me, “No, she was already going. She’s been going to a lot of our shows the past year.” 

His eyes began darting all over the room, his mind obviously racing with thoughts – probably the same thoughts I had when I found out. After a handful of seconds, I could see the anger inside him deflate before he returned his attention to me, “Do you still miss her?” 

I shifted awkwardly, “I’m not sure.” I said honestly, shame filling me at my admission, “Thing is, the thought of seeing her again makes my skin crawl, but there’s just so much unresolved there. I want answers.” 

The pity reappeared in his eyes before he sat back down next to me, “You think she’d actually give you answers?”  

The question could have been perceived as mocking, but I could tell it was asked with sincerity.  

“I don’t know. All I know is that I’m nowhere near as healed as I thought I was.” And it was messing up my life in ways I couldn’t stand anymore. 

It also had me wondering how many unhealed wounds she’d left Mat with. 

“Do you want to meet her?” I asked quietly. 

He let his head fall back onto the mattress, looking almost as defeated as I felt, “I don’t know. She has a way of fucking with your head. I should hate her guts for everything she’s done to us, yet…” 

“You feel bad for her.” 

He huffed out a laugh, “Yeah.” 

“Yeah, me too.” I muttered. 

Mat studied my face for a moment before getting to his feet again, throwing a look towards my pile of clothes on my luggage, then back at me. 

I knew what he was silently asking, so I just nodded. 

He took the short steps over to my trousers, picking the pockets clean and headed towards the bathroom. 

When I heard the toilet flush, I was both relieved and terrified in equal measures. 

“I really need to go check on Lee.” He announced as soon as he came back out, almost as if pretending what he just did for me never happened, “Only the Matt’s of the group have it together lately.” 

Ah, never mind. 

“Why we needed two.” I said with a tired smile. 

He smiled back at me, “I’ll be back in just a couple of minutes, yeah?” 

My tired smile blossomed, feeling incredibly grateful for his continued support, especially when I was pulling so much stupid shit. 

“Mat,” I said right as he was about to leave, “I’m sorry.” 

“I know.” He responded casually before latching the door shut. 

I looked towards the dress I’d peeled off Alice’s exhausted body to help her get ready for bed last night, and I felt as if I was at a crossroads; either I fall apart, wallow in self-pity and let the melancholy take root. 

Or I continue clawing out of the grave I’d dug for myself, and fight. 

Springing into action, I started rummaging through Alice’s bag, to see if she’d left her phone behind or not. 

After having made an absolute mess of the room in record time, I deduced she’d taken it with her, so I sat down on the bed and began taking screenshots. I wasn’t sure if Alice was anything like myself when it came to these sorts of things, but personally I’d require proof. 

Mat came back as I was in the middle of cataloguing my conversation with Fay the past two days, hoping that the context would shine a better light on the situation, destroying any conclusions Alice had drawn from the individual damaging messages that had been present on my lockscreen. 

“Just a minute, mate.” I mumbled to Mat, who collapsed into the chair next to the bed. 

But I must have taken more than a minute, as I suddenly heard the TV turn on, pulling my attention away from the message I was typing up for Alice. 

I looked up at Mat through my now slightly dryer hair, “Sorry, I got a bit caught up.” 

“Wanna tell me what you’re doing?” He asked with an amused smile. 

“I can’t let Alice think I’m trying to get back with Fay, so I’m sending over the whole chat… Along with a message.” 

He stared at me for a beat, “Let me see before you send it.” 

It might seem like an odd request to some, but me and Mat had often helped each other out when it came to delicate communication. It started when we were teens trying to convince our parents we weren’t out partying every night, but it quickly evolved into helping each chat up girls on MSN.  

When we were kids it pretty much only served to get our way, no matter what. But once we got older, we stopped lying, turning the intention behind putting our heads together significantly less self-serving.  

As an example, I helped him write the eulogy for a childhood friend that passed away some years ago. 

“Alright.” I responded without giving it a second thought. 

Once I was done, I handed the phone over to Mat. From the amount of time he took, he was clearly also reading over my chat with Fay. 

I grew increasingly anxious the longer he took, knowing that he was close to reading the things I’d told Fay; how I’d finally responded to her relentless stream of messages, showcasing how pathetic I am.  

Highlighting that she clearly still had some type of hold on me. 

“She seems different.” He finally said. 

“Yeah.” I agreed. 

“Like she’s happier. But who knows if that’s just for show or not.” Mat handed the phone back to me, “How come you haven’t told her about Alice?” 

While the messages I’d sent to Fay were cold, short, and could be counted on one hand – versus the vast amount she’d sent me – I had given her a life update, intentionally not mentioning Alice while doing so. 

“I almost did, but I’m not sure she’d still want to meet up if she knew I’d fallen for someone else.” 

Fay matched me in possessiveness, and considering she was still obsessed with me, I knew she’d take it poorly. 

He took a moment to consider my reasons, “Besides that bit potentially looking a bit sus, I think you’re ready to send that.” 

“You think it’s enough?” 

He shrugged, “Hopefully. Depends on Alice really. Like you said, you two aren’t a couple. But I think that’s the best you’re gonna get – it’s a good message you’ve written.” 

I looked at the message, explaining how I’d accidentally messaged Fay, and my reasons for responding at all, and wondered if it contained some hidden meaning – some hidden trigger that would send her into another spiral, considering I was essentially speaking to Alice like she was already my girlfriend. 

‘Are you breaking up with me?’ 

Her panicked words from last night echoed in my head, a most bewildering concoction of emotions lingering from them.  

Copying everything into Alice’s message box, I pressed send, and fell backwards onto the bed. 

“Don’t get lazy now, you’ve got to hold yourself to your word.” Mat said. 

In the message I’d let Alice know I’d be waiting by her door until she was ready to talk to me. 

My tired eyes met Mat’s, and I told him something I don’t tell him nearly enough, “I don’t know what I’d do without you to be honest.” 

“There are other drummers. None as good as me of course, but I’m sure you’d make do.” He joked, keeping the mood light as always. 

I just shook my head, “You know what I mean, man. I really don’t deserve this type of treatment from you. I’ve been a fucking bellend at every turn, and you’re over here giving me advice about a bird I know you also feel some type of way about. I just want to keep my shit together long enough to feel like a decent friend. Just for once.” 

Mat braced his arms on his knees as he leaned forward, giving him an air of seriousness, “You’ve been a shit friend many times,” he started, pinning me with his eyes, “truly fucking awful actually…” he muttered, and I felt my heart drop for a moment before he continued, “But you’re not like that anymore, and you haven’t been for a long time. You’ve shown me time and time again that you can be trusted – that you care, and that you are trying bloody hard to better yourself; and that’s all that matters to me. You’ve been there for me through some truly horrible times as well, so you’ve got to stop being so hard on yourself Oli. You don’t give yourself nearly as much credit as you should.” 

Silence fell for a beat as I tried to keep the tears out of my eyes. 

“The Oli I knew from five years ago wouldn’t have come clean about any of the things you told me today.” He added, “I would’ve had to pry that out of him, kicking and screaming.” 

I knew he was right, and while I knew I had changed, it just wasn’t good enough. 

“I want to do better than this.” I whispered. 

He slapped his knees and got to his feet, indicating that it was time to get up and deliver on my promises, “And you will – you’ve got an excellent track record for improvement.” 

Once I’d gotten dressed, I grabbed a drink from the mini fridge and sat down next to Alice’s door. 

“Hiya.” I awkwardly said under my breath to the second couple walking past me the last couple of minutes, shuffling my legs out of the pathway to not be more of a nuisance than I had to be.  

Lunch time was coming up so most of the guests were about to head to the restaurant located on the first floor, causing some hope to sprout, that maybe she’d want to head down as well. 

Every so often I’d hear the faint sound of talking coming from behind the wooden door, and butterflies would come to life in my chest whenever those inaudible words were spoken by her soft, delicate voice. 

As I listened to her, my mind wandered back to when my obsession with Alice had developed to the point of no return, about a week before I grabbed her and fucked her on that table in London. 

She’d been using the laundry facilities at a house we were renting down south for a three day stay between gigs – something we did at times as it was often more comfortable than staying at hotels. When she’d suddenly stormed out of the loud utility room, running into the living room where I was currently reading.  

For a moment I’d thought the place was on fire from the way she’d legged it, in combination with the sheer panic all over her flushed face, causing me to bolt upright from my previously sprawled position. 

“Is everything alright?” I asked over the washing machine which was clearly in the centrifuge part of the cycle. 

But Alice just fell to the floor in front of the coffee table between us and began searching through the pockets of a jacket that was bunched up there, too preoccupied with whatever she was searching for to provide me with an answer. I thought that maybe she was having some sort of medical emergency, potentially looking for an inhaler or an EpiPen, but then I saw smoke escaping the utility room door frame, lapping onto the ceiling, which caused me to immediately spring into action. 

Heat smacked me in the face once I stepped into the room, only to realise it wasn’t smoke I’d seen, but steam. The place was like a sauna, and after taking one look at the pile of folded clothes next to the iron, I quickly deducted why. 

Realising that whatever crisis was occurring didn’t have anything to do with the utility room, I turned around, only to immediately be face to face with Alice. 

The panic was gone from her features, instead she appeared embarrassed, and so apologetic you’d think she’d kicked a puppy. While holding her phone, she opened her mouth to explain, and before she even got a word out, I let myself relax, understanding that there was in fact no danger. 

When words began leaving her lips, I was about to interrupt her, to let her know I couldn’t hear a thing she was saying over the loud machinery. Only the faintest, most delicate tone of voice could be heard – which is exactly what I could hear now, listening to her in the hotel corridor.  

But I never got to speak up, as I got incredibly distracted. 

A drop of sweat running down the side of her neck had caught my attention, so clearly visible due to her hair being haphazardly put in a bun. My eyes followed it as it slowly snaked along her skin, enthralled, hungry, only to realise that her whole body seemed to be glistening with sweat, just covered by a flimsy crop top and shorts. 

I felt as if I was going mad.  

Like I’d been wandering in the desert for days and she was a lake, suddenly appearing right under my nose. 

Only it had been over a year since I’d fucked anything but my own hand. 

She hadn’t been talking for more than ten seconds when she gave me a questioning look. Having no way of knowing what she’d asked me, I just nodded in response, hoping it would be appropriate.  

Hoping my erection hadn’t become visible yet. 

It seemed to have worked, as she gave me a shy smile before walking off to the kitchen, shutting the door behind her. I sighed in relief, heading for the bathroom as I had nothing better to do than to use the fresh mental images of her to release some tension. 

But the laundry cycle ended, and the house fell quiet enough for me to hear that she was on the phone. 

I stopped, looking towards the kitchen door, then back to the bathroom, contemplating. 

But curiosity got the better of me, and I found myself taking gentle steps in Alice’s direction, wanting to hear what she was saying. 

Unlike the thick wooden door of the hotel room next to me, the kitchen door was so thin it might as well not have been there at all. And once I got close enough, I could make out her words if I focused hard enough. 

“I can’t believe I just remembered, I feel horrible about it, mum.” 

“You called her, you got her a gift, and we always put your name in the card we give her. I’m certain she’s not expecting a card from you as well.” Her mum had responded, which I’d heard clearer than I’d heard Alice – and the call wasn’t even over speaker phone. 

“But I always give her and all her sisters their own cards, I wouldn’t want her to feel left out. I know it’s been a couple of weeks since her birthday, but should I just send one now?” 

The longer I listened, the more puzzled I grew. 

Could all that panic really have been over a bloody birthday card? 

I was so extremely bewildered by the fact that this creature felt so much guilt over something so extremely trivial – especially since I was used to someone regularly treating me like a doormat and expressing no guilt at all over it. 

Or at least not until they feared losing me – until it affected them. 

Fay was wrong about a lot of things, and until that moment I’d thought she’d been entirely wrong about letting myself relax when it comes to how I experience love. 

But was it possible that I’d simply let myself fall for the wrong person? Given my heart to someone who wouldn’t handle it like the fragile thing it is; so quick to bleed. 

And then the idea of giving into my emotions with someone like Alice consumed me. 

I was terrified, attempting to reject the longing inside me. But it was a pointless battle, the hope that I’d found someone worth handing my aching, scarred heart to was simply too strong. 

Of course, falling for Alice had come with its own set of problems. 

Problems I needed to resolve. 

The hotel room door suddenly opened, jarring me out of my thoughts. 

I shot to my feet, knocking over the empty energy drinks next to me with a clatter. 

Hours had passed, and I’d kept going back to my room for more caffeine as staying awake wasn’t the easiest at this point considering how little I’d slept. 

Disappointment washed over me as I was staring into Liam’s fed-up eyes. 

“She wants to talk to you now.” He proclaimed before pushing past me to head towards the elevator. 

The door slowly swung open, and I finally got to see her. 

Her eyes were slightly puffy, and she was holding her arms defensively. 

She was as beautiful as ever. 

“Hi.” I breathed, leaning against the door frame, feeling disproportionally happy to see her considering I didn’t know if it was just to tell me to fuck off for good. 

She rubbed her arms, her messy blonde locks falling over her shoulder as she did so, “So, are you gonna meet up with her?” 

She sounded so shy, so scared. 

“I think so, yeah.”  

There was a disappointment that settled on her, reflected more in her posture than on her face, which still held a sense of fear. 

I looked around us, wanting to elaborate, wanting to talk to her privately, only to see someone coming from the end of the corridor, “Can I come in?” 

She nodded and moved to the side. 

Allowing me the privilege of her company, and hopefully to set things right. 

... Subscribe to the story on Ao3 for future updates

[bokkura]

I WOULD GIVE UP HEAVEN IF I HAD TO . chapter two

synopsis :: lee heeseung was your first love, if you could count a ghost as a love. he made you feel adored, he made you feel special. all despite the barrier between your worlds. but this all comes crumbling when your death day rolls around, and it’s revealed heeseung had toyed with your heart. being in love with another on the other side the entire time. now you’re stuck heartbroken in the land of the dead, with only a few newfound friends to help you.

and a really beautiful dead ice skater.

pairings :: park sunghoon x fem!reader

genre :: ghost!au, angst, fluff, hurt/comfort

masterlist.

you didn’t see sunghoon much after that. you thought that maybe he was really good at the ‘keeping to himself’ thing. but you’re also really good at being nosy. so you have a feeling your extra attention towards him made him more conscious of your presence.

yunjin reassured you that when sunghoon realizes he’s piqued anyone’s interest he hides like a scared rabbit. it’s believable, like your friends had said they’d given up on him after he had well distanced himself. but it wasn’t going to stop you.

maybe it makes you hypocritical, because you know that’s what you would want. eternity of having your own little bubble. you wouldn’t want someone going and bursting it. at the same time you envy him, and he intrigues you.

you started actively following him. is it stalking if you’re both dead? he’s not in any real danger.

“you’re kinda weird for that,” jay’s breath on your ear has you jumping, hand flying back to swat at him. he was referencing to you watching sunghoon read, jotting down the books he liked to get a gist of what he was into.

“it’s not weird, it’s thoughtful.” you smile at jay, “if i know things about him then i can discuss his interests with him.” you didn’t yet realize what was keeping you so drawn to the boy. but it wasn’t coincidental you found him so similar to you, and you were treating him how you’ve begged to be treated your whole life.

jay laughs and turns to you, leaning his head on his hand. “or maybe he’ll think you’re a creepy stalker girl and have more of a reason to stay away from you.” you scoff at him, continuing your act of kindness. you weren’t going to let him get to you. anything you wanted you got, and you want to know more about this sunghoon character.

but it was hard when every time he spotted you he moved. sometimes he even gave you a dirty look, though you count this as progress. “hey! he’s looking at me.”

“he’s probably trying to curse your bloodline in his head.”

you glare at jake, “he’s acknowledging i exist. and my bloodline can’t continue idiot.” you didn’t care how many times people tried to rub you off when it comes to sunghoon, you have determination. and plenty of time.

you’ve always been the person to give your all into something. especially someone. it’s the reason heeseung left you so heartbroken. it’s the reason you’ve been walked all over your whole life. but you never learn your lesson. it’s a part of you that’s just hardwired in. you act like you don’t care but you really really do.

the next day you take it a step further, you’re seeing what he gets to eat. now maybe you really look like a stalker. always showing up at the diners and stores he goes to, always there when he’s at the library, always there when he’s in the forest. but that be chalked down to coincidence, can’t it?

you like to eat and shop, and the forest is pretty. does it help that he’s also easy on the eyes? maybe… but that’s not why you’re so interested. you just got your heart broken! no, sunghoon just really reminds you of yourself. you find solace in that. it’s crazy how it took death to find him.

you had your own little notebook full of things about sunghoon that you bought for a definitely outrageous price at a gift shop downtown. jay said they’re always praying on new ghosts, something you wish you knew before. he keeps telling you everything is the same, but most people will tell you otherwise to profit off of it.

in your defense you have one for jay, yunjin, and jake too. you’re not weird, you’re just sentimental. but this backfired on you anyways.

you had gone into the forest today, just taking a walk to clear your mind. you took your notebook with you to think of how to approach him. but when you left your things by a nearby tree to pick the pink poppies you saw, they were gone amongst your return.

you hear a scoff behind you, jumping like a scared cat and turning around to see sunghoon with your book in hand.

“look,” he shoves it in your hands, pinching the top of his nose. “i don’t usually do confrontation but you’re really freaking me out and i’m going to need you to stop stalking me.”

your cheeks burned and you puffed your lips out in an embarrassed pout. “that wasn’t what i was doing…”

“then what were you doing?”

he was actually asking you. standing there waiting for a response. he’s not acting much like how your friends had claimed.

you opened your mouth to speak but shut it quickly. for some reason when you look at his face you can’t speak. maybe it’s his sharp look, or maybe it’s because you don’t do confrontation either.

“i was trying to get to know you more.” sunghoon looks at you expressionless. you don’t like how hard it is to decipher him sometimes. even if you’ve only done it from afar.

“a simple ‘hi’ never hurt anyone.” sunghoon starts waking away after that and you scramble to gather your things. you’re not losing your chance here.

“be honest, would you have given me the time of day if i actually approached you?” sunghoon stops and turns around slightly, giving you an odd look before he starts walking again. he makes a weird hand motion you assume is to get you off his tail but you refuse. you’re going to be that annoying person until you get answers.

you continue just walking behind him in silence for a moment, trying to gather your thoughts so you can phrase yourself right and don’t wind up sounding like a true stalker.

“look, you’re a lot like me! i think we could get along.”

sunghoon laughs dryly, “you take me as a stalker too?”

you sigh loudly and make a fist at him behind his back. “you know that’s not what i meant.”

“no i don’t, i don’t know you at all. i don’t know if we’re similar. i just know you creep me out.” you scowl at him, you wish he could see you. you wish you could see him so you can scold him to his face.

“what was the point in gathering all kinds of things about me in a weird little notebook have to do with becoming my friend? wouldn’t that rub me off more?”

he has a point. but again, you saw yourself in him. you were doing what you would have appreciated. someone taking their time to know you. but maybe you did get a little ahead of yourself.

you just hum in agreement, going to bite your lips as you look down to your feet which suddenly became much more interesting.

“okay,” he turns around abruptly, causing you to bump right into him. he quirks his brow at you and you step back with an apology. “i’ll think about it, just no more following me. please?”

you can’t help but smile at your accomplishment, this was easier than you thought. your friends were full of shit you have to say. you nod eagerly and hold your hand up for a high five. sunghoon just stares at you, blinking slowly.

“do you not know how?” you grimace, you don’t know when he died. have high fives always been a thing?

“i’m not stupid. i just don’t want to.”

you squint your eyes at him and lean forward, “then why are you just standing there?” sunghoon’s expression doesn’t change, so you grab his hand and slap it. “there, that easy.”

it was in fact not that easy. sunghoon lied to get you off his back. he didn’t decide to be your friend, he didn’t even think about it. he avoided you like the plague just the day after. you haven’t even seen his silhouette in days.

yunjin pouts at your solemn state, “i told you sunghoon is like that.” she puts a reassuring hand on yours.

“are you really trying to pull an ‘i told you so’ on me right now?”

“no! i mean—” yunjin sighs and repositions herself to face you on the bench. “don’t take it to heart. he’s just a weirdo.” you still pout despite her reassurance. yunjin was your favorite, she was the sweetest. but you couldn’t help but feel dejected.

“that’s the second ghost that’s done her dirty!” jay elbows jake at his remark, giving him a wide-eyed look. but it surprisingly made you laugh, the irony. you’re a little too easily attached to people. or maybe you’re a sore loser.

but you’re stubborn. you’ve been here two weeks and your friends already know it. you’re not stopping here, you always get what you want.

taglist: @adoredbyjay @natalunae @bluriki

[hptrash-lookaway]

Personally, I’m a little bit annoyed in time travel fics whenever they make it so that Walburga is just. like. a victim of the Wizarding World patriarchy

Reasons it annoys me:

• I actually like it in fantasy when they move away from regular bigotry, it’s so funny to me when they’re like “you can be gay, straight, bi, trans, whatever, as long as you aren’t muggleborn”, like it’s fantasy, I want fantasy bigotry, I don’t want real life “women are seen as less” bigotry

• It feels like,,, infantilizing? Like how there’s such a pushback against women actually being villains, it feels like people don’t even want to let them be complex villains, they’re always like morally gray or victims of circumstance, like “oh no, girls can never be villains uwu all women are secretly too much of cinnamon rolls to ever do something bad and have no agency in their life and only do something if a man pushes them into it uwu” not a fan of it.

(I know some people probably feel the opposite because Bellatrix is usually completely villainized whereas other death eaters get to be more sympathetic in fandom spaces, but I think that’s just because of the ratio of women to men, like Pettigrew is never sympathetic in fandom spaces, but the impact of that isn’t as big when there’s so many other guys, meanwhile, the closest other female “death eater” (even tho she’s not actually one) is Narcissa, who usually is also seen as pretty sympathetic as a lot of people chalk up her involvement to Lucius pushing her into it)

(I guess there’s also a discussion to be had about how people are not sympathetic to Umbridge, but are sympathetic to Petunia, when both are cartoonishly evil (a cupboard. when they had a whole other room. you can’t justify this.), but that’s a whole conversation on fatphobia that I don’t feel qualified to breach, again tho, Petunia, to the people who sympathize with her for some reason, is once again seen as a wife who has no control over actions and how she treats children because of her husband)

• Walburga specifically being changed to be like a wife stuck in her circumstances annoys me, because we know from her portrait she’s a full on bigot who does not believe in being quiet

Like I think it would be fun to explore if she had a more complex relationship with her kids (I saw a post forever ago from someone implying that they think that Sirius might actually know how to remove the portrait, but doesn’t, because at the end of the day, that is his mother, and there doesn’t seem to be portraits of anyone else from his family, and that was an interesting concept)

But Walburga is infinitely more interesting as a prideful woman who put all her stock into the family name and brought it down due to her own actions by throwing herself into a cult and trying to force her children to do the same

Again tho, it’s mostly just a small annoyance, I can usually roll my eyes and keep reading, but I just wanted to put my thoughts out there, especially when Orion isn’t sympathetic, when in canon we get way more of Walburga actively being a horrible bigot to characters we love

[leoandraphssoulmate]

FLUX Chapter 2

Link to Ch. 1

Music used to write this chapter!

Warning!!!

You read at your own risk! 

I can’t possibly predict what may or may not trigger you!

So, with that being said, READ RESPONSIBLY! If something triggers you, STOP READING!

Also, if you’re a minor, and you continue reading, that falls squarely on you! I don’t work for Tumblr and refuse to stalk every single profile on here to see if you are in fact over 18!! 

I write for myself. If you like what you read, give it a like and a reblogg! No pressure! It just helps get the word out! 

Thanks for stopping by!

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What is life, if not but a long, and terribly winding road that leads directly to our predetermined fate? 

Are the rules ever so simple? 

Are there any rules? 

I mean really? 

Aren’t we just specks of dust floating around in an entire catastrophic arena of galaxies? 

Can we really close our eyes and for just a second, just a brief moment, touch the past? 

Are we able to look down a long hallway and see our future staring back at us? Reaching back for us? 

Are we really, then, so eager to pick up the pace and take the most often empty hand of fate? No matter where it leads?

No matter what it offers?

…………

Eyes closed, heart hammering against his ribcage, Leo reluctantly recalled his most recent dream, (or as he had come to call it, a nightmare) as he sat at the kitchen table, nestled in the center of the lair, seemingly safe from any would-be foe. Any physical one anyway.

 His tea, long since grown cold, sat before him in his favorite bright blue mug, donning a chicken wearing a T-shirt that read: I’m not telling you why I crossed the road. 

Dreams never really bothered him to this extent. Before, he could just let them go. Chalking them up to a previous night of hard patrol through the city or a fight with his brother Raph. But these dreams? Dreams of her? If he had hair, it’d be gone. His fists full of it.

Leo shook his head, trying in vain to dispel her image. It was futile. She stubbornly remained. Her long curly red hair framing her reddish-brown furry face was firmly stuck in his mind. Along with her bright green eyes. Burned into his very psyche. 

At first he thought she was someone he had seen in a movie, someone on the street, or possibly one of Mikey’s manga books, but no. Now he knew better. This woman. This unbelievable mutant fox woman was someone he now needed. Craved on a primal level.

His thoughts wondered where they so often did when his leader's mind took over. If she was a mutant, that must have meant that they missed a canister of mutagen. And this woman, whoever she was, must have come into contact with it, or worse. What if some other bad guy-

Leo puffed his cheeks, then blew out a long exasperated sigh. “I don’t even know where you are.” He breathed, staring down into his tea, his blue eyes reflecting back at him. “How can I even begin to look for you?”

“My son? Is something troubling you?” Master Splinter asked, tightening the belt to his robe as he walked into the kitchen.

Leo placed his hand over his mug, gripping it tightly as he stood, his thumb completely covering the chicken. “I can’t stop dreaming of her, Master Splinter.” He sighed as he turned to pour out the cold tea.

Master Splinter appraised his son with cool brown eyes. “I see.” He gently stroked his goatee. 

“I tried to meditate, I tried to do my kata’s, and I tried to do hundreds of laps around the sewers.” Leo growled. “But she’s always there! When I close my eyes, I can see her as clearly as if she was standing here beside me.” He shook his head, a wave of sudden grief passing through him as he placed a small pot of water on the stove, gently turning the dial. 

“What’s more, Sensei, is that I can feel her,” he said softly, moving his right hand to the center of his chest, “right here.”

Splinter nodded. “Yes, I believe that the universe has found a way to make her connection to you much stronger than before. We must find a way to discover where she is so that you two may finally see each other face to face.”

Leo leaned against the counter, his arms crossing over his chest. “I agree, Sensei. I do. But I don’t even know where to begin. Just when I think I have an idea where she might be, everything fades away and I wake up.”  He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. “In the last dream, I gave her a red rose, wrapped in black velvet.” He opened his eyes, locking them with his Sensei’s. “I could literally feel the fabric slip between my fingers.”

Splinter’s furry brows rose slowly as he let out a breath. “It seems the universe is about to bring about something very special. I only hope it happens swiftly, for your sake as well as the woman you're dreaming of. I can only imagine the ache she is also experiencing.”

Leo’s eyes glistened with unshed tears as he nodded. He knew all too well what she had to be feeling. 

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Foxes.

Red, brown and white.

Fox.

I can hear them. 

Pulling me from my life.

Leading me towards a new one.

They're telling me to run.

To run with them. 

To be free.

To feel everything around me.

To be me.

I need to save them.

I have to.

Who?

The foxes?

Wait?

Where did they go?

They were just here!

I can’t see where I’m going anymore!

“You can’t expect me to take care of everything, sister!” Star’s brother’s voice echoes all around her. “They’re your parents too!” 

“Skylar!” She shouts into the void. Instantly, she’s transported to her childhood home, her human feet firmly planted on the driveway, her brother’s face intense as he stares at her. 

No. Not this again. Star tenses, waiting for the scene to play out. 

“I know that! God, do I fucking know that!” Her lips move, words that were said a million times in her dreams come flowing out once more. “What do you think I’ve been doing all this time? Sitting on my ass?” She glared at him, her eyes flicking momentarily to the bright blue suitcases sitting on the ground next to her brother’s brown van. 

Bright blue? Wait. They weren’t that color-

Star sighed, knowing what her next words would be. “Just get them to the airport. I’ll take care of the rest.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to come with us?” Skylar asked, his tone softening as he reached for the nearest suitcase. A small fox quickly ran out from behind it, then under the van. Didn’t he see that?

Star took a deep breath, casually bending down to try and see if she could see the small fox.

“Star? Are you even listening to me?” 

Star shook her head as she stood. “No, Skylar. I don’t. I can’t.” She closed her eyes against the sudden rush of tears. “It’s enough for me to know the you’ll be there. That you’ll take care of our dad’s.”

Star watched helplessly as Skylar loaded the last suitcase in the back of the van, that familiar look on his face. His heart was also so very heavy. She knew what he was afraid of, because it was exactly what she feared as well. That their father would never get better. That there wasn’t any hope for him. No matter how much any of them wanted it to happen. 

“It just really sucks, you know?” Skylar sighed. “For him to go from being a top surgeon to-” He choked. 

Star nodded, her chest tightening. “I know.” She whispered. 

Star suddenly caught the small fox out the corner of her right eye and gasped. All at once the scenery blurred, filling the space with a bone deep chill. Dark shadows crept in at the edges, threatening to overtake her if she didn’t run. 

Run for her life. 

Run for her death.

Run for any reason at all.

Star could feel the blood rushing through her body, pounding in her ears as she was enveloped in the swirling colors of the portal, then finally stepped through, emerging on the other side of the portal, almost walking straight into a department store window.  She turned around just in time to watch the portal spin, its colors more vibrant than before, then roar one final time, before fizzling away, then disappearing with an audible POP! 

Star looked back, her head tilting back to see that she had been transported in front of a MACY’s, blue, green and pink lights flashing in the front window. Was it Christmas here? Here! Star sucked in a sharp breath, her eyes wide as she looked around. Off in the distance the Chrysler Building lit up the night sky, shining like a beacon. 

“I’m here! I’m in New York!” She breathed, trembling as she turned back to the window behind her. There, she saw her reflection a second time in less than an hour. In full fox form, her fur blew slightly in the cold breeze, soft white snow catching in her deep red curls. 

“Hey! You!” A man suddenly shouted, making her jump.

Shit! She needed to hide. Although she may be where she belonged, it was still quite dangerous to be out in the open. Humans couldn’t be trusted in any world. She quickly darted to her left, running down the snow covered sidewalk, then ducking down an alleyway. She needed to find Leo, but had absolutely no idea where the lair was. 

Sure, she had watched the movies and seen the animated episodes, but it's not like anyone ever drew a map. One thing she definitely knew was that it was located in the sewers. Trying to catch her breath, she frantically searched the ground for a manhole cover. 

“There’s got to be one around here somewhere!” 

She shuffled her furry feet through the snow covered, trash strewn ground, her heart galloping away in her chest as she heard footsteps approaching. Please! Oh God, please! After a few more seconds she found it. She crouched down, digging her claws into the crevices that surrounded the iron circle, and heaved the metal disc upwards, her muscles straining as she slid it to the side. 

The smell of raw sewage slammed into her and she fought not to hurl. “Ugh!” She waved her hand in front of her, her eyes squinting. 

“I think it went down that way!” A woman said loudly behind Star. 

Ok. Time to go. Star took a quick breath, then turned, placing her feet on the top of the ladder below, descending into the sewer. After she pulled the manhole cover back over head, she looked around. Pipes of every size ran off in every direction. While nasty brown water ran all around under her. She sighed. How was she going to find him in this enormous maze? 

When she lowered herself to the ground, she closed her eyes, fighting to listen. She could hear steam, running water and a sort of odd banging off in the distance. Was that music? She opened her eyes, hope lifting her heart. Could it be just that easy? Was she that lucky to have picked the one manhole cover that was close to the lair? 

Her left ear twitched, picking up a faint melody off to her left. She grinned. Oh my god! Every part of her tingled as she took off in the direction of the music. This was it! The further she went, the louder the music became. 

Star froze in place when her bright green eyes landed on a large closed wooden door, a beam of yellow light shining out from underneath. Trembling with confusion, excitement and fear, she took a deep breath, steading herself, then reached for the large iron handle with her tiny brown fur tipped fingers.

As the door opened, Star nearly fell to her knees. There before her, in all its glory, was Donatello’s security setup. Dozens of monitors displayed various areas of the city, backlit in purple and green. Some flashing with warning symbols and others continuously running codes.

As if on autopilot, Star’s feet carried her into the lair, the feeling of home washing over her. The smell of fresh baked pizza filling her nose. Tears stung her eyes. 

“It seems the universe had other plans indeed.”  A soft male voice said. “Welcome home, Star.”

Star’s heart skipped a beat as she turned to see Master Splinter standing by the entrance to the lair, holding a candle. Tears now wetting the fur on her cheeks, She swallowed. “How do you know my name?” She asked, even though she knew how. He wasn't a master for nothing.

Splinter was quiet for a second as he took in her presence. “This has been in the works for sometime, my child.” He motioned for her to sit down on the bright red couch next to Donnie’s workstation.  Star slowly sat down, her tail curling around her waist as she rubbed her forearms. 

He smiled softly, his brown eyes glinting in the soft light. “Leonardo has been dreaming of you for some time. He has told me all about you.”

“I don’t mean to be rude, Master, but where is he?” She whispered, looking around.

“Ah!” He grinned. “You are not being rude, my child. They are on there nightly patrol around the city. They should be back-” He was blissfully interrupted by a series of whoops and shouts just beyond the door. 

Star watched, her heart immobile in her chest as all four of them came bursting through the door. Raphael was the first, then Donatello, followed by Michelangelo, then finally Leonardo. 

“Whoooo! I beat all ya! Again!” Raph shouted, then came to a jarring stop, his sea green eyes landing on Star. 

Leo’s eyes widened as he came around Raphael to see Star as she stood, visibly trembling. He was everything she had imagined AND MORE! His blue eyes locked with hers, their chests rising and falling in tandem. 

“My son, it seems you were never meant to find her. She in fact has found you.” Splinter smiled, glancing between Leo and Star.

“Leo I…” Words failed her as her throat began to tighten. 

Sheer relief flooded Leo, his lips twisting into a wicked smile. “This is unreal! Oh my-” He shouted excitedly, running towards her. 

Star held her arms out, reaching for him, her chin tilted upward, ears laid back as she took him in. He towered over her small frame. But it didn’t matter to her. She just wanted to be in those strong arms of his. To feel his plastron against her fur covered cheek. 

Leo chuckled as he wrapped his arms around her, picking her up. Breathing in her scent, he held her tightly to him, running his right hand over her fox ears, then through her long hair. She felt even better in person than she had ever felt in his dreams. She was so soft. So warm. So his.

Then everything around them disappeared. They were the only two souls left in the universe. In all that ever was and ever will be, it was just them. Two single shafts of light that had beat the odds and found one another. Ripped from time and placed among the void. Every cell inside them exploded, then mended back together. 

She was a part of him.

He was a part of her. 

Soul Mates.

“Whoa! Is that the fox chick that Leo was talking about?” Mikey asked, a huge grin on his face. 

“How did she even get here?” Raph’s eye ridges rose as he watched his brother smother Star in kisses. 

“None of that matters right now, my son. All things will be revealed in time.” Master Splinter said, then turned to leave the room, a wide grin on his furry face. 

Tags: @thelaundrybitch @wynndigogh

Author's Note:

FLUX is my escape. But it also helps me to tackle issues that arise in my life. Through writing I can work through my thought processes and interact with characters that I deem safe and at the same time necessary for my psyche. 

My OC Star Lanteen is very much and in every way, me. It’s true that I also see myself in my other OC’s, but not like Star. Do I want to be with Leo and Raph? 1000% YES! Do I want to be a shapeshifting elemental? Also 1000% YES! If I could escape this life, I would do so in a heartbeat! 

All the feelings in FLUX are first processed through my mind, then put on this wonderful screen for you all to read. Trust me, it’s not an easy process at times. I catch myself needing to step back or take a break because of it. I can’t write and not feel what the character is feeling. To me it just feels odd when someone can. 

How do you not get attached to your children (I mean characters)? HA! 

Are there things I’m not willing to write about? Yes. But it doesn’t mean I’m not open minded! To each their own!

I hope you enjoy FLUX as much as I do! Thanks for stopping by!

[mallowsweetmiri]

Hey guys, I’m currently trying to write a little marauders fic centered around an OC (Miriam) who is a 6th year transfer student from America. The story follows her, her dads position in the ministry, and the friendships that blossom out of war! Also some plot twists and special magic hehe. Anyway, I’m writing the chapters out of order and finished this one yesterday. Thought I’d give it a post! Let me know if you guys enjoy :)

—————————————————————————

I’ve Got a Crush

Remus wasn’t sure what had come over him in the past few days. Well actually, he knew exactly what had come over him; the moon. The full moon was creeping up on them as Christmas break approached. The cold castle walls didn’t help his mood either. But what he didn’t understand is why she seemed to make his blood churn. She had done nothing to him, except continue to be her unapologetic, slightly provocative self. It wasn’t as if she intended to stand out, but she couldn’t help voicing her opinions as if they went straight from her brain to her mouth. And oftentimes her opinions, according to Remus, were objectively correct. For example, when Sirius had bought a downright raggedy leather jacket, insisting it looked cool, she had told him he looked like a homeless person. That one had Peter in a fit. And just the other week she had told off Snivellus for being an “absolutely prejudiced, greasy headed git who deserves to be fed to the wolves.” (That one made Remus smile). So why was she driving him crazy this week? Remus chalked it up to being irritable due to the impending moon and exams. Just as he was about to bury his nose back in his textbook, the portrait hole swung open.

“Moony! Thank god you’re here, have you seen Miriam?” Sirius spoke in his usual boom, bounding into the common room with James hot on his trail.

“No, I’ve been studying. Maybe you should give it a try too, exams are coming up,” Remus grumbled, shutting his book. There was no way these two would give him peace. Sirius plopped down on the couch while James stood over Remus with his arms crossed.

“Study, study, study. Don’t you know we have a quidditch match coming up? And against Slytherin at that? Did you know?” James interrogated him as if he paid any attention to the quidditch schedule.

“Ah, so that's why you seek our dear Miriam, arguably the best chaser on the team,” Remus smirked as James placed his hand over his chest in feigned hurt. Sirius giggled and kicked James in the thigh, making him fumble.

“Ow,” James grumbled, rubbing his (thicc) thigh, “and yes, that is why I’m looking for Miriam. We were supposed to run drills after class!” As if on cue, the portrait hole swung open again. In walked Miriam, unsuspecting as James ran towards her and threw her over his shoulder.

“James! What the fuck!” She exclaimed, banging her fists onto James muscular back.

“You can’t get out of drills, Miss Miriam! We’re going to the pitch right this instance,” James’ hands wrapped around the backs of her knees as he began to head for the exit.

“You git, I need to change and grab my quidditch gear. Put me down!” She continued to slam her fists into James even as he set her down. Merlin, they were so annoying. Sirius was cackling at this point.

“Right, sorry,” James said sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. Miriam gave him one last punch, rolling her eyes as she began to walk towards the boys on the couch.

“Sirius, Remus,” Miriam nodded her head to the boys as she sat in the armchair next to them, “and what have you two been up to on this fine day?” James slumped onto the couch next to Sirius, clearly not happy that Miriam hadn’t immediately gone upstairs to change.

“Just looking for you doll,” Sirius winked, provoking another eye roll from Miriam. She switched her gaze to Remus and raised her eyebrows, expecting a response.

“Shouldn’t you be getting ready for quidditch drills?” Remus asked, his tone icier than expected as he pushed himself up from the couch. James perked up at this while Miriam frowned. Remus didn’t care. Maybe he was being harsh but he just couldn’t stand being around her. Watching her annoyingly bang at James’ body while he carried her like a bag of flour. He left his books on the coffee table as he began to stalk up to his dorms.

“What’s up with him?” Miriam asked distastefully. Sirius and James exchanged a weary look before Sirius chimed,

“Oh, y’know. Just Moony being moody.” Miriam didn’t find this answer satisfying, but didn’t press any further as James was now harassing her to get ready for drills. Meanwhile, Remus made himself comfortable in the windowsill by his bed. He lit a cigarette in hopes to calm himself. He didn’t like being rude to his friends, but sometimes the rage within him refused to quiet. Especially when there were only 5 nights between him and his curse. The door creaked open.

“Hey,” Peter said, setting his backpack down by his trunk. Finally, someone who spoke at a normal volume level.

“Hey Pete,” Remus said, pulling his pack of cigarettes out and offering one to Peter. He waved his hand.

“I’m good. How was your day?” Peter took off his tie and walked towards the windowsill, even though he wasn’t having a smoke. Remus shrugged.

“Eh, I’m just having a bad week. Y’know,” Remus trailed off, taking another pull of his fag. Peter hummed in understanding. He seemed to be the only one sensitive to Remus and his cycle. Maybe that's why Remus could actually enjoy his presence during these times. That and the fact that Peter was generally a more relaxed person than the rest of their group.

“Miriam told me to check on you.”

Remus scoffed at this. Of course she did, that know-it-all. Remus shook his head at himself. Miriam didn’t deserve to be the punching bag of his foul mood. He sighed.

“Makes sense. I mean, out of nowhere I start acting like an irritable git and she has no idea why,” Remus sucked in the burning smoke, relishing in the pain. He deserved it.

“Yeah, well I’m sure she doesn’t take it personal,” Pete reassured him, rolling up his sleeves and staring at the clouds. A slight breeze blew past them and into the dorm.

“Can I tell you something?” Remus blurted out. Peter looked up and nodded his head. Remus wasn’t sure why he wanted to tell Pete, but he needed to get it off his chest.

“What if it is personal? I mean, my foul mood towards Miriam,” the words sounded worse outloud, and Remus cringed after they spilled. Peter let out a confused chuckle, raising his brows at Remus.

“And what do you mean by that?” Peter joked, making Remus roll his eyes. He took another inhale of his sweet smoke.

“Like, this time around she’s really pissing me off, and I don’t know why. It’s like I can’t be in the same room as her without my blood boiling. Everything she does just makes me… tick. And when she's with James and Sirius, it's unbearable,” Remus groaned, letting his head fall back against the stone wall. Peter chuckled again awkwardly.

“Mate, it kind of sounds like you’ve got a crush on Miriam.”

Remus whipped his head up and looked at Peter with a look of absolute horror. “What?!”

“I mean, you said just being around her makes you feel some type of way,” Peter shrugged, as if the prospect of him liking Miriam wasn’t utterly insane.

“Yeah, I said that, but I meant she makes me feel something bad! Like I’m angry at her and she annoys the shit out of me,” Remus seethed, smashing his cigarette butt into the windowsill. Peter didn’t react to this.

“Listen, I’m just saying it how it is. Miriam’s gorgeous, you’re all obsessed with her. It makes sense that the progression of the moon would, you know,” Peter gestured his hands, “enhance that feeling.”

“First of all, we’re not all obsessed with her. And you’re just as much involved with her as the rest of us,” Remus argued, fumbling with his pack to pull out another smoke. Peter just rolled his eyes.

“Oh, please. James and Sirius worship the ground she walks on. And you’re closest with her,” Peter points out, making Remus cringe.

“Yeah, she’s my close friend. Nothing more,” Remus huffed, lighting his cigarette with wandless magic, something he’d perfected in recent weeks.

“I’m not saying she’s not your friend. I’m saying it’s normal that your, ehem, body, is having a physical reaction to her because of the moon. Plain and simple,” Peter pushed himself up from the wall. This was enough conversation for one day.

“Hmm, insightful. I don’t think that’s the problem though,” Remus spoke, looking back out the window. Peter sighed. Why did he even bother giving advice? The rest of the boys never took it.

The remainder of the day was spent studying for the boys in the dorm, while the other two spent countless hours on the pitch with Miriam. Later, the rest of the team joined for a final practice before James told them to take the next day off to prepare for Sunday’s game.

Remus woke up on Saturday feeling better, but also feeling like a git. He hadn’t seen Miriam after he snapped at her, and he wanted to apologize. It was one thing to be rude to Padfoot or Prongs, but it was another to act that way towards Miriam. For starters, she had done nothing wrong and was almost always an angel (except when she was telling you off). More importantly, she was left completely in the dark about Remus’ condition. Even if Remus wanted to tell her, which he didn’t, he really wasn’t supposed to. Dumbledoor had made it clear that the less people who knew, the better. It was safer that way. Remus sighed as he got up, Sirius and James still asleep and sprawling in their beds. Peter was gone but Remus assumed he was at the greenhouse with Poppy. He opted for a smoke while he waited for his mates to get up. He was hungry, but he’d rather have a cigarette then go down to breakfast without them. The day looked clear and felt warmer than usual. He hoped the weather would continue into tomorrow, for he’d surely get dragged to watch the game by Peter and Mary. He turned his head as he heard Sirius groan and shift in his bed.

“Gimme,” he grumbled, reaching out his hands towards Remus. He chuckled and walked over to his bed. Sirius propped himself up on his elbow as he took the fag into his hand. Even though his hair was tousled into a shaggy mess, it still looked soft and shiny. Remus cursed the Blacks for their hair genes. All he got was a mess of dirty blonde and facial hair that wouldn’t grow despite turning into a hairy beast every month.

“I’m hungry,” Remus said, taking a seat on Sirius’ bed. Sirius hummed as he smoked. By now, James was scrunching his face in disgust as he stirred.

“Uhg, I told you guys not to smoke near my bed,” he whined, sitting up and grabbing his glasses from his desk. Sirius chuckled and passed the cig to Remus, who promptly stood up and walked towards the window.

“Sorry, Prongs. I’ll put it out,” Remus said, fulfilling his promise. He walked towards his trunk, switching his nightshirt for a jumper and slipping on some jeans, hoping his actions would inspire the other boys to start getting ready. It did, and soon the three boys were heading down to breakfast.

In the Great Hall, the ceiling was bright and clear, reflecting the faces of the eager students below. Some groups sat studying, while others seemed ready to enjoy the sunny day. The boys joined their friends at the Gryffindor table, the girls were already sat and eating.

“Like genuinely, who does she think she is? I’m going to send a bludger to her face tomorrow,” Marlene seethed, stabbing her sausage with her fork. Miriam raised her brows and chuckled, only looking mildly concerned. Sirius slid onto the bench next to Marlene.

“Who are we bludgering tomorrow?” He asked cheerfully, grabbing a piece of toast off her plate. Marlene didn't seem to notice.

“Morgana Peverell. She’s a wench,” Marlene grumbled. Remus sat next to Sirius and started filling his plate. He glanced across the table at Miriam, who was listening intently to Sirius and Marlene. Remus was sure she was secretly plotting her quidditch strategy for tomorrow. When she was in the game, it was if she could predict the moves of both her teammates and her opponents alike. Remus wasn’t even fond of quidditch, but watching her was something else. Despite having only been at Hogwarts for three months, everybody knew her name. She had outscored every other student in the school that year, solidifying her reputation as the top Quidditch player. Sirius elbowed Remus in the gut.

“Lily asked you a question,” James said from across the table, seeing the dazed look on Remus’ face. He looked over to the redhead who huffed from the lack of response.

“I said, do you want to come study with me in the library? I’m going over arithmancy today,” Lily gave him puppy eyes which made Remus’ chuckle.

“Sorry Lils, but I spent all last night going over my notes. I was hoping to see the sunlight today,” Remus took a drink of coffee while Lily sighed in defeat. Remus’ felt bad, as he knew none of their other friends would leap at her offer, but he had other plans for the day.

“Well, considering Peter’s not here, it looks as though I’ll be going alone,” Lily sighed, rising from her seat and grabbing her bag. The girls cheered their goodbyes and goodlucks as she made her way out of the hall, prompting the group to start wrapping up their meal. Remus was grateful for his friends, even if they were loud and annoying sometimes, he wouldn’t trade them for anything. The lot of them began to stand up and leave, discussing plans for the day and joking around. As they neared the exit, Remus caught sight of Miriam.

“Miriam,” Remus called out, jogging slightly to catch up with the girl, “can I talk to you?” Miriam nodded in response and the two of them veered away from the group. Normally, Remus would prefer to chat outside, but it was December and neither of them had their coats.

“So,” Miriam said, clearing her throat, “what’s up?” She looked up at Remus as they walked, having no destination in mind.

“I- uh, I wanted to apologize,” Remus spoke, looking away from her and down at his shoes. They were quite interesting to look at.

“What for?” Miriam laughed, poking Remus in the side. He rolled his eyes.

“For being a git yesterday,” Remus said, giving Miram a half smile, “and I appreciate you checking in on me. Even if it is through Peter.” Miriam laughed at this and looked out the window towards the courtyard.

“It’s what friends are for,” Miriam shrugged, “But I do appreciate your apology. It does make me feel better knowing that you acknowledge your shittiness.” Remus playfully knocked his shoulder into her, the two of them chuckling quietly. He felt better knowing she didn’t hold anything against him. He was feeling good today, and his senses weren’t driving him insane. This called for celebration.

“What do you say we get the boys and go for a walk around the grounds,” Remus smirked knowingly at Miriam. “A walk around the grounds” was often code for goofing off and causing trouble.

“Oh, you do know how to intrigue a girl,” Miriam smiled back, linking her arm with his as they made their way towards the Gryffindor tower. And so the day was spent like many others, with Miriam and her four sidekicks exploring the grounds, poking around places they shouldn’t, and laughing until their stomachs hurt. Remus wished they could have stayed out until sunset, but James insisted they go back to the dorms. Something about the “big game” and needing his “star player” in top shape.

The crowd roared as the Gryffindor team took to the pitch. Not only was Miriam set to play, but James and Sirius were two of the most popular students in the school, and the amplitude of cheers reflected this. Soon after, the Slytherin team strode onto the field, led by Regulus. The crowd continued to roar, but three-fourths of the cheers were less than cheerful. Still, the energy was buzzing. Regulus remained the school’s best seeker, and any match featuring the rival teams was highly anticipated. As James and the Slytherin captain met in the center of the field, the referee raised her hand above her head, signaling the start of the match. With a blow of the whistle, the players shot into the air. Luckily, the weather was still clear, leaving a perfect view of the game. Remus’ sat squished between Lily, Peter, and Mary, the rest of their friends out on the pitch. He quickly spotted Sirius and Marlene hammering bludgers towards the Slytherins. James made way towards the Slytherin chasers, ready to block any quaffles that came their way. Poppy and Regulus were circling the field, keeping their eyes out for the snitch. Miriam was harder to spot. Despite wearing her bright maroon and gold uniform, she seemed to blend in with the sky. She was weaving intricately through the players, never stopping to keep an eye out for the ball. This was her signature move. As James raced forward to block a quaffle from reaching Slytherin hands, Miriam swept past him, clutching the quaffle as she sped towards the other end of the field. The Slytherins attempt to block her were laughable, and within seconds she was slinging the ball into the hoop at lightning speed. She threw her head back, laughing in triumph as she secured the first goal of the game. She rose up, the sun gleaming down on her radiant smile as James came around to clap her on the back. Remus’ blood rushed through his veins, his heart thumping loudly in his chest as if it was applauding with the rest of the crowd. The way she scored so effortlessly, her golden curls barely keeping up with the speed of her broom, the way her form moved so gracefully through the air, her thighs clinging to her broom-

“Oh, fuck,” Remus groaned, dropping his head into his palms while the rest of the crowd cheered.

“Hey, hey, what's wrong?” Peter asked, his voice filled with concern as he placed a comforting hand on his friend’s shoulder. Remus looked up at Peter with a defeated face, unable to deny what was so clearly in front of him.

“I think I have a crush on Miriam.”

[joeltheresa]

Late nights

zoinks! I'm late to the party. This isn't proofread or anything but if I keep looking at this, I'm going to lose my mind.

Pairing: Tess x (f)reader

WC: ~1700 words

TWs/Warnings: 18+, fingering, not proofread or edited, I don't think I use any pronouns or anything in the fic, but Reader has a clit so do with that what you will.

Small edit: how embarrassing is it that I wrote “pronounce” instead of pronouns? I love myself

Summary: Tess comes home to you after a run with Joel and helps you relax. | Read it on AO3.

It’s well past midnight when the door opens and she slips inside. Her key clatters when she throws it on the kitchen table and despite her best attempt to stay quiet, the floor creaks under her heavy boots. 

You’ve tried to relax, but it’s always difficult when she’s away. The smuggling in itself is already dangerous (something you know she knows, because she never lets you come), but there’s also a million things that worry you around it. Leaving the QZ? Bullet between the eyes. Being out after curfew? Bullet between the eyes. Illegal trading of cards? Bullet between the eyes. 

The QZ isn’t all it’s made out to be on the outside. Even though the risk of infection is much smaller here, any misstep can easily be your death. Only last week you had seen two lovebirds hanging for meeting after dark.

By the time she slips in behind you, she has taken her boots and jeans off. The flannel still hangs around her shoulders and the tank top underneath has slipped up enough that you can feel the warm skin of her stomach against your back.

“You awake?” she murmurs softly and sometimes that gentleness surprises even yourself. You don’t know her full story, no one ever knows anyone’s full story anymore, but you know the past ten years have been a lot kinder on you than on her. She has aged in a way she wouldn’t have if the world had still been normal. There’s still the normal signs of age, of course. Wrinkles around her eyes when she smiles, the stray gray hair here and there, but it runs deeper than that. She’s exhausted and sometimes she only leaves bed because FEDRA could very well have her head if she didn’t. Every bone in her body hurts and she wears her grief like armor, has built walls so high and thick they’re worse than the ones around the QZ. 

Still, she manages to be kind, gentle. You know what she does on her runs with Joel, you’re not blind or stupid. She has seen more violence than you can ever dream off, and you know she has killed. Not only infected.

You finally hum a reply when her nose bumps against the back of your head. One of her arms wound around your middle and she toys with the hem of your shirt. The worn fabric has hiked up around your waist, and every brush of her finger against your skin burns like fire. 

“I think this used to be one of mine.”

A scoff leaves you, even though it’s entirely true. The band logo has long since been washed away and there’s holes in it, but it reminds you of her. When you’re lucky, it smells just like she does and feels like something akin to one of her hugs. It’s the only thing that gets you through most nights when she’s gone. That and burying your head in her pillow until your head swims with her and the pillow suffocates you enough that you had to pull away for a proper breath of air.

Her fingers linger on the shirt. She doesn’t voice her thoughts, she so rarely does, but you would do just about anything to know what she’s thinking about. The silence stretches into minutes, maybe even hours, and you’re moments from sleep when she slips her hand from the hem of your shirt to your belly. Fingers trail mindless patterns and you wish you could stay in this moment until you die.

Tess moves lower, but so slowly she could chalk it up to your imagination if you asked. A thumb brushes just below your belly button and she nudges you with her other arm until you raise your head and allow her to slip it beneath you. When you settle against her bicep, she’s suddenly so close it feels as if you might morph into her.

“How was the run?” You ask, finally, and your voice sounds too loud in the quiet of the room. The entire building is asleep and one too loud noise could very well wake your next door neighbors. It could result in a complaint, but it rarely does. People have more urgent things to worry about than loud voices in the night. 

“It was fine, sweetheart”, she murmurs, and her lips brush the back of your neck. It sends a shiver down your spine and warmth to the pit of your core, and you can practically feel her smirk against your skin. “I’ve told you not to worry about it.”

Your reply catches in your throat when her fingers reach the edge of your underwear, and whatever you wanted to say is lost.

It takes her a moment before she slips her fingers beneath the hem, and she brushes her fingers just below the fabric. Her lips brush against the back of your ear and hums something. You couldn’t make it out even if you wanted to, not when her nails catch against your skin and scratches softly.

“Tess”, you mumble softly and she chuckles, finally lets her fingers brush lower, through coarse curls until one lithe finger circles your clit. It’s enough to send tiny sparks up your spine.

“Tess”, you repeat when her fingers still and only lingers against the warmth of your skin, and her smirk is more evident now than ever.

Carefully, as if not to disturb her own hand, Tess slides a knee in between your thighs to give her some more space. When she’s satisfied with the new position, two fingers rub against the bud where you need her the most, and a soft sigh leaves you. 

Nothing to take away the tension of the day quite like her hands.

“I’ve told you to relax”, she murmurs, just as she slips her two fingers through your already damp folds. “You never listen.”

A soft chuckle leaves you. If anything, you do listen. More so than she ever does, anyway, but this isn’t anything new. She’ll come marching in and curl up behind you and mutter soft nothings like it doesn’t help her relax as much as it helps you.

When she exhales, the breath of air tickles the baby hairs at the base of your scalp, and the shiver that runs through you isn’t all sex. It’s just as much knowing that she’s safe, and that she’s here and that even now, when it feels as if the world is ending, she’s yours.

One of her fingers brush against your clenching hole, and she huffs another ‘relax’, before she nudges a finger inside you. It’s not enough and too much, all at once. You clench around the intrusion, and glance over your shoulder in an attempt to look at her. She gets the hint and captures your lips before you can say anything, and the kiss is slow and gentle.

Her lips still taste like the liquor she and Joel must’ve shared and there’s a lingering taste of smoke, one you would usually scoff at (it’s like kissing an old ashtray, Tess!), but not today. You’re too tired to pretend to hate it, and melt into her every touch.

When she finally moves her finger, it’s agonizingly slow. She pulls away until nothing is inside you, then pushes it back inside just as slowly. She muffles your soft whimpers with her lips, swallows every sound like she’s starving.

It’s impossible to tell how long it’s been when she adds a second finger. She meets no resistance whatsoever, but you know it doesn’t come as a surprise to either of you. Most of her hand is soaked and your panties are sure to be ruined.

She picks up the pace and grinds the heel of her palm against your clit, moves as if the brush is entirely accidental even though it isn’t. You know that she knows exactly what she’s doing, and it’s driving you mad.

“Fuck”, you mewl softly when you break the slow kiss, and turn away from her. Your head immediately drops to the pillow beneath your head, twists until you can press your face into it to muffle any noise.

Her breathy laugh straight into your ear has you shuddering, and the next time she thrusts a finger into your warm cunt, it’s with a little more drive than before. It goes just a little deeper, and she’s merciless when she brushes the tip of her fingers against the spot inside you that makes you see stars. She massages that spongy spot until your thighs feel weak and your fingers are clutching the sheets so tightly your knuckles must’ve turned white by now. 

“C’mon”, she murmurs, and her voice is the kind of hoarse it only ever gets when she’s tired but refuses to sleep. “C’mon, darling.”

Her voice and the continued movement of her fingers coaxes the orgasm from you. The small cry that leaves you is swallowed by the pillow, as is the shuddering sob that follows.

She keeps her fingers moving, slower now, and her hand brushes against your clit every few moments to make sure you get the most out of your high. You tremble in her arms and whine into the pillow, bucking your hips in an attempt to both get away and get closer at the same time. 

It takes a moment, until you come back to reality. The messy cloud that has made anything unimportant for a moment disappears, and an exhaustion seeps into your bones, as if you haven’t had a proper night’s sleep in years.

The sheets beneath you are damp with sweat, but neither of you care to move. There’s hardly any clean sheets to use, anyway, and the mattress underneath is so disgusting you’re entirely sure not even a stray dog would use it without one. But, it’s the way of the world, these days.

“Now, sleep”, she murmurs. “It’s late.”

When you make yourself comfortable and glance out the small window in the wall, the sky has shifted from a midnight blue to a soft pink. It’s nice. Even if it’s only another two or three hours until the alarm clock shrieks, it almost feels like before. Someone in an apartment close by has put on the radio, and the soft tune of Hungry Heart lulls you to sleep, still in Tess’ soft embrace.

[dailycass-cain]

DCeased: War of the Undead Gods #7 brought in the Cass, and well I gotta be fully honest and give my thoughts on the issue.

Now to start off, the moment the preview to this issue hit. I was worrying. I felt like this was gonna be the one where Cass (and Mary) were gonna bite it. I mean Undead Gods vs. living ones? Usually doesn't go well.

I mean for Mxy and Spectre, Anti-Life Darkseid still infected one and the other killed the host. Still, the Spectre endured (and what a twist that was). But I figured someone in the Bat-Family was gonna bite it. Damian was the red flag but Cass was the second.

I'm kind of surprised really writer Tom Taylor excels at making you care and getting you on the edge of your seat. Making you 😱😱😱that a character is gonna bite it. Sometimes they do. But when they don't the payoffs are so rich.

This being a good one as all hell is breaking loose. We have two Supermen doing the best they can against these impossible odds fighting the Anti-Life army both current and newly infected. But when they have to do other things. Other characters step up.

I like that Taylor specifically had the three female characters who been thru A LOT in the past series (Dinah, Mary, and Cass) are the ones to beat Anti-Life Darkseid. There's just so much reward for longtime readers.

The payoffs for Dinah getting the ring, Mary getting Cass/Shiva's training, and Cass still being so pure so she can attain the powers of Wizard Shazam's staff.  There's so much full circle here at this point.

Like that's always my takeaway from these series by Taylor: I want more.

I know he's said this is it but damn if I don't want more stories in between this and other DCeased stories.

I mean for Cass there's a story I feel just aching to be told of her losing everyone being distant with Alfred/Damian (given the years), finding out about Steph, bonding with Mary, losing Babs/Shiva, and then finding out about the cure.

Killing all those lives would tax Cass's soul. Which just adds to the pure of heart detail Taylor had. Again, it shows why Taylor just is so good at these stories. Cause you're always left craving more.

I do feel if there's a spinoff again for this "Elseworlds" or "franchise" that Cass/Mary have to be a story told. Because the two have lost so much. Yet still remain pure and themselves.

Plus I'm good with a good heartwarming Rose/Jim moment with her too. Cause I feel those two along with Mary are bonds that Cass would be friends with more. Akin to Damian/Jon/Cassie.

That's just the Cass portion. I mean I'm still hoping one day we get a conclusion to the Talia/Steph subplot. The seemingly only loose plot thread left with one issue to go.

I mean that could even be the crux of this spinoff series. Cass/Damian searching for Talia/Steph. Picking up clues while battling the Anti-Life. Making up for that lost time. Being the only two siblings left.

Again, just the story writes itself. But I digress I get it. Taylor has delivered five banger series from this line. It's just that he's so good at this again, leaving me wanting more. 😝

But yeah, I'm really curious to see how this all ends and if Cass will get a moment or something in the final issue. Will she be a final survivor or not? Not to mention how is this gonna end?

I have so many questions and the fact going in this not being as predictable again is a credit to Taylor. I haven't a clue where this is going and the fact you don't just adds to the fun in reading a story like this.

Though I digress I was so taken with the story I didn't even notice the lack of bat ears on Cass at the end. 😝 I was so focused on her smacking Darkseid around going, "YOU GO!" Along with hearing "the Touch" in my head (aka the song for when things turn for the good guys).

I'll just chalk it to Darkseid blasting her bat ears off the fiend. He blew her ears off man. Her pointy bat ears off! DARKSEID IS TRULY EVIL!!!

But yeah this issue had so many payoffs. Not just the female trio, but also with Jon, Damian, and Cyborg too. All the heroes throughout this series got this payoff.

This is why I love this series. It rewards long-time readers with these moments. And again I'm really curious to see where the series goes in this finale.

Great. Now I can't help but just think about a Ghost Shiva giving Cass a thumbs up and admitting this is the song I hear anytime Cass does something awesome in this series now. 😝

[suspiriax]

A little astro observation 💫

When it comes to dating I think that what each partner see’s & deals with first is the Ascendant/Rising sign of the other person. Of course the Venus sign is also very important and reactionary here, but in the early weeks/months of a relationship I believe the Ascendant is what comes into play much before anything else in this area.

I think that it’s possible that most short-lived relationships/situationships/casual flings etc are experienced through the Rising sign - and it takes a bit more depth/longevity to start seeing the Moon sign & even the full egoism of the Sun sign qualities. [This can still of course be dependent on what the Sun & Moon combo ARE; someone could be a double Cancer with a Virgo rising who still in all ways has the emotional instability of a toddler, but my point is for the general consensus.] [ps no hate on cancers that’s my sister sign 😮‍💨😤]

This is obviously just from personal experience and research, but also if we take into consideration that the Ascendant is how we ‘deal with’ outside situations and surroundings - this observation might ring true. I see a lot of astrologers define the Rising sign as the ‘mask’ that you put on for others - but I don’t fully see it this way, I don’t feel like the Rising is fake or a ‘mask’ at all. I think it’s easy to chalk it up that way, but to me this placement is more similar to being like an ‘outer shell’. I also think it takes time to grow into these Ascendant qualities (as opposed to automatically having them 6 or so months after birth, like the root ego of your Sun sign); and this is simply because you have to first gain the experience of ‘dealing’ with said situations before you can know the ways in which you react to or cope with them. This is a different type of reaction than the Moon sign reaction btw. The Moon reaction is of feeling and impulse and normally the first reaction that comes to the forefront; it is instinct and completely natural. The Ascendant reaction is more learned, thought out and meant, it’s the way you ‘handle’ shit.

To me the Ascendant has less to do with your inner ego and inner feelings (like the sun & moon) but more to do with your outer projections and the way you carry yourself and confront real and live situations and experiences. It’s not a mask but the face you’re literally wearing when you deal with everyday shit! This is why I think it comes into play so much when it comes to dating. I think it’s easy for us to experience ourselves as our rising sign, literally at surface level. It’s what people see on the surface. Yes I think your Moon sign mingles in, like your Venus, because of course your feelings are involved. But it’s not until you really want to be with this person over a period of time that the inner workings of your Sun and Moon sign fully start to unfold and show itself to the other person.

I think we are physically attracted to each others Rising (and Venus) signs, too. It’s literally the part of ourselves that we show to people firsthand, and I think it’s important to note this when it comes to searching for a partner and looking for qualities that mesh with your own <3

xo

[askdacast]

a bit of a personal ramble here...actually no I’m about to be really cringe as I kind of rant about the anxieties and issues I’ve been going through lately in a super roundabout way

but in the long ago days (by which I mean like 10 years ago) and when I was an even louder Persona fan, I made a Shadow version of my main OC/blatant self-insert Alyss Baraen and it was therapeutic to some extent

(more under the cut)

Shadow Alyss even had a cringe name and design - Gerhild, the Witch of Destiny (very long story), and was kind of a representation of my suppressed anger issues and general teenage angst at being different. One could say, a manifestation of the Id.

You can actually find that name in the really old posts of this blog but...please don’t “orz

All that was kinda based off the issues that a teenaged me knew of herself, but I feel rather ashamed to say, those issues haven’t 100% gone away, they still ebb and flow and take different forms, and I gotta smash them all the same

What I am saying is that I’ve been gnawing on the idea of re-doing the “Shadow Alyss” idea with the updated knowledge of myself now and the more recent anxieties I’ve had to deal with. And the hilarity is that the motif is completely the opposite of what I did as a teenager while somehow still being thematically the same.

Given the witch/Carmen San Diego design motifs the regular Alyss already has from the red and hat, I couldn’t help but also notice how much like a Spanish Inquisitor (insert Monty Python joke here) she looks like, and the moment I thought of that given Alyss being a very religious character, everything just completely fell into place

(Fun fact: Years ago when I was into imagining what kind of Personas my characters would have, Alyss’ was supposed to be Agustina de Aragon, Spanish folk heroine who is drawn with a big hecking cannon. It all comes full circle.)

(Inquisitor from DFO, danbooru link warning)

The Inquisitor would be all of Alyss’ self-depreciation and anxieties that she isn’t good enough at...well, anything. Mostly not being a good enough person or Christian. It’s not like she resents her faith, but she absolutely does feel like she’s been put under a microscope her whole life and she needs to scrutinize her every action as to whether it is moral or not. Chalk it up to her emotional nature and sensitivities that take her every action as reflecting on her moral character. A mistake or a failure to do “the right thing” isn’t just one bad act - it’s a stain on her very identity as someone who professes to follow God. Or a good daughter. Or a good friend. A good person.

Of course, this is a self-inflicted wound in many ways. She hates being criticized, and the expectation to always be ‘good’ or following the standards of what makes a moral religious person causes a lot of guilt in her when she does wrong, or anxiety that she might do wrong. A lot of what I imagined about The Inquisitor isn’t just the religious motif, but the motif of fear and punishment. The Judge and Executioner who instills the fear of God in sinners. A horribly apt symbol, imo, of what anxiety feels like, of that looming darkness that constantly beats down on you. The voice that says “this is ABSOLUTELY a terrible idea” even before you take a step.

Heck for extra factor on the monster of fear part, throw in the white eyes on a completely shadowed face a la Scarecrow from the later Batman TAS episodes

(this is the least disturbing picture I could find of him)

All these fear motifs are, of course, painfully ironic when you consider that not only this image is Alyss’ exaggerated idea of her faith, it’s also 100% contradictory of what her faith truly stands for. What she herself has constantly told others. That God isn’t an angry God who judges sinners, but a gentle one who forgives, and justifies not by adherence to laws, but faith in a greater power. In fact, the power that forgives and lets people not be punished for what they deserve.

And though this is a totally cheesy idea...I would like to imagine if you face the Inquisitor in a dungeon, in like a medieval-style execution grounds, you would see those crumbling old walls with broken carvings that have the words “Condemnation in Christ” on them, and then noticing the walls were broken, you’d eventually find the missing half of the wall which must be attached before the initial wall, with the words, “There is No”

Look, I’ve already spilled my guts out with this “I have a friend”-type post, I can afford to be cringe about something that means a lot to me

Especially since...it’s very obviously been weighing on my mind a lot lately

No matter whether Alyss Baraen thinks herself a “witch” or feels tormented by an “Inquisitor” the root cause is still the same - she fears that she isn’t worthy or that God possibly is angry at her for whatever sin or failure to be human/good she’s committed. And despite her own beliefs, or the love and support of others, being a clear evidence to the contrary, she finds it hard to trust that that love is real.

Many times, it’s terrifying to trust people you love, or to have any hope at all. Because what if you’re disappointed? Worse, what if you’re just plain wrong? You could say to yourself how much good you’ve done or how much people clearly love and care for you, and have it still mean absolutely nothing. Because the evidence for your imperfection, the world’s imperfection, and the hurts you bear feel so much more real than the idea that you might deserve happiness.

And the more you think that way, the more you inevitably project that idea onto a higher power, like God. Because how could it be true that He offers you all things for nothing? Less than nothing - you’re a “terrible person” who deserves to be punished, and yet He isn’t. In fact, He’s saying all’s good, you just need to do better and keep loving and trusting Him, and He’ll do the rest.

Without any obvious proof, except the life you’ve already lived, and the words He’s said.

A tall order to believe in, isn’t it?

Trust is never easy, and in fact, often seems far less logical than just continuing to remain on guard, always.

To believe in there being good and kindness in your future often seems too good to be true. And soon we start to believe it can never be true.

So I’ve spent a long time rejecting any kind of grace or kindness because I’ve convinced myself there’s no way it’s true. The truth, to me, had to be a harsh revelation of my inherent sinfulness and failure to follow God. Those were obvious ‘proofs’ in my life, after all. It could be nothing else. If I received a kind word, I must have been selfishly trying to avert my eyes from the truth, to what I wanted to hear.

But, you know.

That wasn’t the truth at all.

In my heart of hearts, I KNEW it wasn’t.

Well, no one ever said Faith was easy.

[qu33nincrims0n]

My Dumb Thoughts on Higurashi- Watanagashi Part 1

the second of my Higurashi reactions. had to break it in two because of picture limits, but I hope you like it! My other chapter reactions can be found with #dumb-thoughts-series. Also, I had to break this one into two parts cause it was too long. that should be up in the next fifteen minutes or so.

Ch 2-1

Some kid causally coming into the game store-

No Keiichi Bad!! Don’t be weird about your middle school friends.

Mion, you can’t leave your own competition! How rude >:(

 – future me coming in to say I really need to be more attentive to stuff, can’t believe I missed the inciting incident of this chapter – 

I wonder where this would be in relation to Oni timeline wise. The festival will probably help.

Tip: So, you’re saying Mion has a lot of adults in her life? Say, at least five men who may or may not have a white van?

KEIICHI NOO!!

Ch2-2

The unearned confidence level on this lad

“Why would I need to know how to put on a garter belt?” Keiichi, don’t lie. I know you well enough to know there’s a 25% chance you’re keeping that outfit.

Hey Shion. Pretty sure I got spoiled on you existing, but hey its nice to meet you. (I guess there’s a chance It’s actually Mion, but I doubt that. Also really undercuts this plot point to know the steam designs seem to have different bangs. Glad I’m using the originals.). Also, you’re now voiced by Silver the Hedgehog as played by Red Van Buskirk.

--- future me coming in to say I was right in that their bangs are slightly different, but it seems like it switches if and when they pretend to be one another so it’s just a weird choice ---

Also, interesting Characterization of Oni-Keiichi being too stressed to even make much note of the outfits while Wata-Keiichi notices a whole ass new character.

One of her uncles owns this place? Well, that could help explain how the talk with Ooishi got to Mion so fast in Oni

Am I crazy? Did this game take like 20 horny pills when I wasn’t looking? Like Oni had some horny stuff but this is a lot. Like a full armada of horny. 

Ch2-3

“Maybe Satoko is helping the most by doing nothing at all 🙂”

Be normal Keiichi!!

Aw man this is chalk game adorable. Reminds me of playing with my little cousins, even if it’s just a diversion. It’s really cute Keiichi just immediately goes along with it too.

Casually drop kick a child. Teacher: does nothing

Compare a Onigiri to Curry. Teacher:

Man you’re real bad at not being suspicious, Mion.

Weird to be on this end of Rena’s lie detecting powers.

That’s actually really sweet, Shion.

“Not like Mion would ever go as far to put a needle in my food”

Tip: okay so Mion and Shion are doing some sort of twin switch thing, right? Where one is the other for a day or something.  That seems like what this is telegraphing.

Ch2-4

I feel Keiichi going to sleep during recess in my soul.

Wata-Keiichi not being weird challenge: impossible

I love Collage Mode in Disco Elysium cause now I can make this:

Oh, I remember that keychain from Oni! It’s so Kyu-te!

The entire town acts like bees heating up a wasp, just getting progressively closer. And closer. And clos-

Oh, hey Ooishi, nice to see you back.

Is it really so unbelievable that it might actually be twins Keiichi?

Shion: Keiichi, that’s sexist

Me:

Okay, so based on this, the main divergence point is that Keiichi didn’t go to the junk yard and meet Tomitake, so he’s not suspicious about the events of the dam project, and now even sees it as a cool part of the village.

I imagine Keiichi is an 80-year-old in a child’s body, sitting in a recliner watching Jeopardy.

Aw this is sweet; I can’t wait for this to all go horribly wrong and for it to all be Keiichi’s fault.

Ch2-5

The guys outside when they hear you have an invite:

Chaos! Control!

Keiichi Moments Later:

“Bringing in Reinforcements! The No-Horny Brigade shall prevail!” said Keiichi, unabashed horndog and

I love casually carrying around laxatives in the hope I can use them for hijinks and tomfoolery. Truly the best friend of every growing girl.

You know the answer Keiichi, you just stop beating around the bush.

It’s all clicking together. Also, finally a VN flashback that was actually useful and not filler!

(and so the bento tip wasn’t a switch, she was legit jelly).

Oh nO hOW CoUld tHIs HavE HAppEneD?

Mion seeing the gift:

Hey, kinda a dick move, Shion. You know what, you lost your little Silver voice privileges. Go to space!

(This is because of poor behavior and definitely not because I couldn’t keep the voice in my head no sir-e!)

Prediction time: This chapter, Shion or Mion is going to be murdered, but Keiichi is unsure which one it was, and he begins to think the survivor is the other pretending to be them.  Whether it really is or isn’t is left ambiguous.