#let me see if there is a way i can post at least a bit of it because its rlly cool

[redclercs]

DELICATE✰CHARLES LECLERC.

xv. he was sunshine, i was midnight rain

— the one where you broke his heart 'cause he was nice.

❝𝘞𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘥𝘪𝘥 𝘸𝘦 𝘨𝘰 𝘸𝘳𝘰𝘯𝘨? 𝘐 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘸𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘢𝘭𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵. 𝘞𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘥𝘪𝘥 𝘸𝘦 𝘨𝘰 𝘸𝘳𝘰𝘯𝘨? 𝘖𝘩, 𝘥𝘪𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘥? 𝘏𝘰𝘸 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘥? 𝘞𝘩𝘰 𝘨𝘰𝘵 𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘪𝘥𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘥?❞ —𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐘, 𝟏𝟑.

warnings: angst, not proofread and pls go easy on me i'm coming out of the worst block everrrrrrrrrr. our girlie is making poor choices pls hate her a bit for it, the last bit is charles centered. 2.23k words (+articles!)

masterlist ✢ next

by Tom Gill

The worst time to have a carreer on Public Relations is when your client is as unhinged as y/n y/ln has proven to be. Many people, myself included, can't help but feel sorry for whoever is on her team because there's only so much someone can do to put out a fire when the person burning is the same one who keeps lighting the matches.

y/n just can't stop messing up, can she? Just when her fans thought she would rise from the ashes with an outstanding movie deal, the 'Queen of Romcoms' has to go ahead and mess things up by proving that people who aren't blinded by her master manipulations are right: y/n y/ln is in fact a cheating snake.

The Deuxmoi post talking about an actress involved with a Formula 1 driver and her presence at the Italian Grand Prix last Sunday are enough confirmation of the fact. y/n is not ashamed to be seen on broad daylight with the guy that broke off her engagement.

Don't kill the messenger, y/n fans. Aidan Kim and Victoria Presley did warn you.

New York, United States, September 10th.

It feels like you've just finished unpacking when you find yourself throwing stuff in a suitcase once again. There is little to none excitement in you as you decide between a couple of blouses and recite Amy's lines outloud inside your messy apartment.

"Wait—that's not right," you huff, unaware that you've let the blouse you like the least inside the suitcase. The lines slip your mind like butter on a pan. Honestly, you've started to wonder if several of your braincells died in the past month. Nothing other than 'I want to be great or nothing' seem to have stuck. So much for how well that single line applies to your life.

"'It looks like it's never done a day of work in its life'," you mutter, picking the script up from the dining table. You have studied it a million times, gone through lines and rehearsals and a thousand other things. You have called Greta and Timothée and Saoirse and they have called you on their own accord to agree the accurate tones of scenes and interactions, and yet you are sure you are still going to mess everything up once the camera starts rolling. "God, help me."

The clock on your phone tells you it's 9:30 a.m. and you are nowhere being done with your luggage. Also, Charles' plane lands in less than an hour and you are not making it to the airport in time. He has a busy month race-wise and he has still made some time to come to New York before you leave for Boston in a couple days and you are both turned upside down with the Asian race-tour.

There is one reason—and one reason only— that Mildred has agreed that you should have these two days off. That reason is not Charles Leclerc, given the fact that she has grown to hate him even if she can admit, albeit to herself only, that he has done nothing wrong. You are supposed to be preparing more interviews and then a prolonged stage of silence while you focus on filming Little Women. Mildred has a whole plan laid out and that is another script you have to follow. No improvisations though, you have been warned.

─────────

Time has a funny way of passing by when it comes to Charles and yourself. Your whole relationship feels contained in a moment and also in a century, and every time you see each other again, even after just a few days a whole other bubble of time seems to have passed. You think it's Charles' way of making it feel special, making you feel special by looking at you like you're a part of him he's constantly missing when you're not right next to him. A 'lovesick fool' you have heard him been nicknamed by people who try to be nice, at least a little bit. Others sneer at how they can't wait for the 'honeymoon phase' to be over.

And it's precisely the way he looks at you before he's crushing you against his chest that makes you hold your tongue for the rest of the day. You cannot bring yourself to tell him the plan the people around you have made without asking for your input—much lesser his— to salvage your career and your reputation.

It nags at you how stupid you're being. Maybe some part of your brain did die between Sunday and today, but you are certain you won't be able to bear the disappointment in Charles' eyes when he finds out what you agreed to.

This visit is less touristy than the last time Charles came to New York. He's leaving tomorrow and you, the day after for Boston, so you want to bask in each other's company as much as possible. You go to a cupcake place and take pictures, all while Charles re-tells everything people have said about his win on Sunday. He's become even more of the Golden Boy he already was in the eyes of Ferrari fans, and you feel love swell in your chest at the fact. You love that he's loved, there's nothing he deserves more than to be loved.

"Will you show me the script now?" Charles asks, taking his light jacket off as he crosses the door to your apartment. A slight feeling of embarrassment flashes through you when you focus on the different disasters around the house but Charles either doesn't notice or doesn't mind as he makes himself comfortable on the couch where several pairs of your shoes are scattered.

"I think it would violate my contract somehow if I did," you chuckle, noticing that your travel kit toothbrush and toiletries are on the coffee table. "I was sure I had those in my luggage already," you groan, pointing at them.

Charles laughs, patting the spot next to him and motioning you over excitedly. "Can I see it please?" he elongates the 'e', with a mocking puppy eye look on his face. "Read me some of your favorite lines," he's suggested so several times and you refuse him every single one. It's not like he hasn't seen you act, Charles admitted in one of your phone calls to have binged all of your movies.

"I can't," you fall into the couch next to him, wrapping one arm around his neck. "You make me nervous, it won't turn out good."

"You see me work all the time," he grumbles against your hair, "And you too, make me nervous. You're being unfair."

"Oh, booohooo," you mock, nuzzling into his neck. "Your job is far more exciting than me reciting lines."

"It is not—"

His complaint is cut short as you kiss him, once, twice, so many times you lose count and he kisses you back between snickers and fake complaints about how there's only so much his heart can take before it explodes. It's so cheesy it makes you both cringe and burst with laughter before starting the scene all over again.

A re-run of a Foodnetwork reality show is playing in the background when you open your eyes after a short-lived nap. Charles is swiping through his phone with his other arm around you, the light in the apartment has faded almost completely giving way to late evening.

"Do you want to go out for dinner?" you ask pushing off of Charles' body and sit and rub your eyes. "Or should we order something?"

He locks his phone and stretches, still laying on his back. "Whatever you want to do, soleil."

You two are way too comfortable in your little cocoon to mess it up by going outside just to eat. Charles smiles, knowing you've already made your mind up.

You argue on the couch for ten minutes about what take-out to get and after you've finally placed the order on your phone, you get up to make some space the dining table.

"Here," you throw the bunch of papers at him softly. The 'Little Women' script is anotated from page one, and it is true that you probably shouldn't be showing it to him, but it doesn't really hurt anyone either. "Not a word, do you hear me, Leclerc?"

Charles laughs before crossing his heart with his index finger, eager to read about your next big thing.

You throw more stuff on your open suitcase, wipe the table down and look through your kitchen for an unopened bottle of wine while Charles reads and occassionally shouts something from the living room. He's so genuinely excited about seeing you bring Amy to life on the silver screen.

"Gooodddd, what's taking them so long?" you whine as you return to the living room. The 'your order is in progress' notification still alive on the screen of your phone. Charles doesn't seem to mind as he makes space for you to sit with him again.

"Couch potato," you stick your tongue out at him, placing your feet on his lap after reaching for the TV remote. You surf through a few channels, trying to remember what the name was of that crime documentary you wanted to watch on Netflix.

"...y/n y/ln making headlines again with her messy love life," the E! Show that's starting has your picture and Charles' next to each other.

Charles' eyes move from the last pages of the script to the TV and then to you. "Change the channel, love," he says as he reaches for the remote himself.

"Yeah," you click on the Netflix logo on the remote and the screen goes black as your phone pings, letting you know your food has been delivered to your apartment complex's lobby.

─────────

There is something beautiful about domestic life with Charles even if it just exists for scarce moments like this. The smell of coffee and the sound of his humming lull you into a peaceful state of mind as you prepare breakfast before once again leaving for the airport.

Messages from Mildred, three or four already, remind you that you must be ready for the list of things she had also reminded you of a million times already.

'how did he take it?' you read from your phone, Mildred again.

You look at Charles and open your mouth. Maybe now that he's leaving in a couple hours you'll work up the courage to tell him about how Mildred is staging your break-up right this second. Which means nothing, right? Keeping it lowkey is for the best, even for him.

Right?

You open your mouth and close it several times looking at your disheveled boyfriend and his sweet smile.

"What?"

"There's something I have to tell you," you breathe out, screwing the already too tight cap on the empty bottle of orange juice that rests on the table.

"So tell me," Charles' smile widens as he puts both elbows on the table, ready to listen.

"I'm really going to miss you." you chuckle awkwardly, and there is momentary gesture, barely perceptible, in Charles' face that tells you he knows that's not what you really wanted to say.

"Me too soleil, but we'll figure it out," he's reaching for your hand with a weaker smile on his face this time.

AFTER months of speculation about the nature of y/n's relationship with Formula 1 Pilot Charles Leclerc, a spokesperson for the actress has made an exclusive statemen for PEOPLE.

"They have never been romantically-involved," the source said. "Their friendship is undeniable but there's nothing more than that."

y/ln and Leclerc have been linked since April and spotted in public together several times, including at the Italian Grand Prix on September 3rd.

"Since becoming friendly they've ran into each other at several events," the source continues, "They are often surrounded by friends they have in common, such as Matilde Bassi and Timothée Chalamet. y/n knows it's too soon to put herself out there romantically."

Despite a rumor surfacing on an online gossip site that they took a romantic vacation together in Greece, y/n's spokesperson tells PEOPLE that "pictures are often released without context to create controversy."

Charles Leclerc has been blind-sided. Which, to be fair, in his career field is something he should be used to. But the feeling doesn't compare to being blind-sided by the person who is supposed to be your partner.

Charles understands, he always understands, or at least tries his best to do so. But this time, it really feels like he's reached his limit. It's not even about how he's become even more of the laughing-stock within his group of friends about how he's been parading y/n around and defending her honor for her to call their relationship 'casual' rather than not even getting a heads-up from her about the matter.

"Is there something you would like to talk about now, y/n?" Charles questions, trying his best not to let the anger flow into his voice.

Charles thinks the worst part is how long she stays silent, but it's not even close to what comes next.

"I tried telling you," she lies.

"When?" there is no point in hiding his anger anymore, even if he doesn't want to fight. This is one of those unavoidable things you expect to hit somewhere down the road in the relationship, not a month into it.

"I TRIED!" she repeats, unable to come up with any argument in her defense.

"You never tried! See that's the thing about you, you just wait for things to happen and then you 'try' to deal with the mess!" His accent is thickening with every word.

"If it bothers you so much—"

"What bothers me," he cuts her off, "Is how you cannot trust me with these things? What did you think I would say?!"

"Exactly what you're saying now, Charles," she sounds defeated and it manages to irk him an extra mile. "You don't understand—"

"I don't understand how you still care more about what people are going to say than about talking to me. I'm your boyfriend!"

There is another long silence during which he can hear faint yelling in the background of her side of the line. On his side of the world it's nearly midnight.

"I've been thinking," y/n nearly gasps, "That maybe we rushed things."

"Rushed things?" his voice is so small now he wonders if it can really travel half-way through the world.

"I— Maybe Mildred is right— I wasn't, I am not ready for a relationship." She stammers, and Charles can picture her pinching her thigh in that nervous tick she can't quite manage to get rid of.

"You can't even take responsibility for your own feelings?"

It's always Aidan, Victoria, Mildred... a handy list of people to put part of the blame on for when she doesn't want to say things herself.

And Charles accepts it. He accepts her messes because he wants her, but now apparently y/n doesn't even want him back.

"What do you even mean by that?" y/n scoffs.

"Can you even be honest with me, then? Say that it is you who doesn't want this relationship, y/n, don't put it on—"

"I'M NOT PUTTING IT ON ANYONE! THIS HAS BEEN A MISTAKE SINCE WE LEFT MYKONOS I—"

Charles didn't want to fight and now there is nothing to fight for, anyway. So he hangs the phone up, because sometimes things end in silence.

It's three am, and Charles Leclerc just got his heart broken.

─── team principal radio: ❝why hello there, i don't even know if you remember this fic but it is for my own peace of mind that I have to finish it!!! also i love these characters a lot, even when they're acting so selfish and stupid—looking at you y/n. Thank you if you are still here and like me, had to reread it to get to this chapter.❞

✰ paddock club members: NO PADDOCK CLUB THIS TIME BECAUSE I DON'T KNOW IF ANYONE STILL WANTS TO BE TAGGED.

[dunmeshistash]

I've been having a bunch of ideas kinda float around my mind like little screensavers that I didn't feel like putting on paper, but one of these ideas just so happened to hit a corner, and it gave me an idea for what might perhaps be a bit of a silly (and oddly specific) question, but one I was very interested in asking nonetheless. Especially after reading your long post on the Demon's perspective of Laios' backstory. I really hope you don't mind.

While my memory's a tad blurry on how the scene played out in detail, I still find Laios' confrontation with the demon to be one of my favorite scenes. Definitely top 5. It's the one where Laios secretly orders Izutsumi to execute him at the slightest hint of suspicion. That one. I think that scene is among my favorites because it's both a perfect demonstration of Laios' remarkable cleverness hidden underneath all that lack of social skills, but it's also the perfect demonstration of how utterly terrifying the demon is.

At first I was under the assumption that Laios had it all under control, but the Demon's frighteningly gentle with how he twists Laios' very thoughts in a way that frames him as some sort of misanthropist, and the Winged Lion's words seemingly foil whatever plan Laios may have had. It made me think that Laios had failed, and Izutsumi's orders to lob his head off may have been a fail safe because he didn't know if he could successfully thwart the Demon's plans.

However, after finishing the story, extras, etc; I started thinking that perhaps failing was all part of Laios' plan, too. At least partially. Perhaps he realised that the only way to outsmart and ultimately best the Demon, was to let the Demon win. Perhaps he concluded that the only way for him to stand a chance against the Demon was to lose, to be at the Demon's mercy, to have his words utterly twisted; because he couldn't just make the demon "think" he had won. The only way for the Demon, the embodiment of hunger, to think he had won, was for him to actually win.

Maybe he ordered Izutsumi to… how do you put it… "artificially shorten his lifespan" because he knew the Demon would use his love for monsters against him, and would manipulate him into wishing to become the Ultimate Strongest Monster. His recent addendum (that the Ultimate Strongest Monster can eat desires) seems to support this theory, if I remember correctly. However, I can't remember for certain. Maybe his plan was to trap the Demon in his body and kill it that way? I genuinely can't remember.

So, I was wondering if you'd be interested in answering this oddly specific and mildly stupid question: How much of Laios' interaction with the Demon was planned, and how much was him fucking around and finding out? I'd love to know your thoughts on this!

PS: Laios rocks the swag he dons as king. Would happily serve under him. PPS: I hope you have a wonderful rest of your week, Mr. Morbius! Thank you for this awesome blog. You're cool.

Hello!!!!! Yeah!!!!!! The question Kabru himself would rather not know!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Same as Kabru I decided not to think too hard about but Kui definitely gave us hints that this could be the case, I don't think Laios "planned" to fail from the start, he strikes me as a very optimistic guy (as you can see with how he first thought the confrontation with Thistle could go and how he STILL tried to talk to him instead of fighting) but I think he did "prepare" somewhat for the worst case scenario, hoping for the best but preparing for the worst?

Like I don't think this part of his plan was a misdirection I think he really hoped it could be this simple? So this was plan A (although he realizes this is too optimistic I think he hopes it will work)

This part tho I'm pretty sure was partly a misdirection for his teammates, since he asks them to help him get his mind back only to tell Izutsumi to kill him at the smallest hint he lost his mind, so I think this was plan B as in "If I become the lord of the dungeon kill me so there's no more dungeon lord" which was the original canary plan

Which again is kinda confirmed by this thought bubble

I think this was plan C

He knew he no longer wished for a country where humans and monsters could coexist (because of what he saw) so I guess he had *some* idea that becoming a monster was his other wish and added that as a fail safe if plan A and B failed? I don't think he could have guessed the Demon would use his body but maybe he thought he could use the nature of the demon against him (granting his desire to become a monster even tho the monster can eat him)

As Marcille and Kabru realize tho, that might all be a coincidence and he really thought plan A or B would work lmao. WHO KNOWS Laios' mind is a mystery

I'd recommend rereading chapter 88 if you want to go thru Laios' whole plan and how the demon manipulated him, it's a great chapter (87 too with the demon origin story)

[di-42]

Adding what have recently become my go-to comfort fics:

The Bookseller And The Garden, rated T, 13k

Fluff, fluff, fluff! Canon divergent fiction where Crowley is a demon stationed on earth, Aziraphale is an angel stationed on earth, but they have never met until present day. There's no end of the world in sight, only an angel and a demon falling in love and not knowing how to break it to the other that they're not human. I laughed all the way through.

The Anon Before Christmas, rated E, 66k

Ah. Where to begin. Every now and then, you read a fiction that just makes you feel at home. Makes you feel like you’re in safe hands. Like you’re in for a real treat. This absolute gem has very quickly become my favourite human AU. For several reasons.  The characterisation of the two main characters is absolutely spot on. I could hear Crowley talking in DT’s Crowley voice and see him moving in DT’s Crowley way, and I could hear Aziraphale talking in MS’s Aziraphale voice and see him moving in MS’s Aziraphale way. The pace of the development of their relationship from enemies to lovers is just perfect. It’s told from Crowley’s POV and you can see how his perspective changes as the story progresses, but the writer is so good that Aziraphale’s change of perspective shows perfectly through Crowley’s POV too. The array of side characters is so good that it actually pains me to call them side characters. I wrote in one of my comments to the fiction that I will forever adore this story’s Bee, and I meant it, but Newt and Ana are equally fantastic (and I loved the other cameos too!). Also, and this is especially important to me, this story is as much a love story between Crowley and Aziraphale as it is a story of true friendship among all the characters. They look after each other, they have each other’s back, they support each other. I am so lucky and privileged to be able to see myself represented in that aspect of the story. Last but not least, this fiction doesn't overstay its welcome one bit. You are happy about how everyone ended up, but still could read more. It’s like you are part of the gang and want to know what your friends are up to. Everything in this story was perfect. I realise I haven’t mentioned what the plot is about, but hopefully by now you might want to find out for yourself!

Wrong Turn, rated T, 37k

Honestly, I don't know why this fiction touched me so much. I just couldn't stop thinking about it for days after I finished it. It's a post season 1 fiction where Crowley suddenly finds himself in a parallel universe at the time the apocalypse is just about to happen. The Crowley and Aziraphale in that universe have a different history to our Crowley and Aziraphale. All our Crowley wants to do is to go back to his universe and his very own angel, but how? As you follow the main plot and focus on Crowley's thoughts and actions, you'll start slowly feeling the other story get hold of you, and it won't let go until the very end and beyond.

Happiness, More Or Less, rated M, 21k

If you read only one story out of this list, make it this one. This human AU moved me so very much I cried. Crowley moves into his new flat in Soho, only to discover the flat in haunted by the ghost of the owner of the bookshop downstairs. I won't tell anything else about the plot other than it does have a very sweet happy ending, and it gets there via a rollercoaster of emotions. This is really one of those fictions that leave me in awe of the fandom's talent and creativity. Read it, read it, read it!

Wavelengths & Frequencies, WIP, rated E, chapters 14/?

If you feel like you're going through one of those phases where you need to curl up on a sofa with a cup of hot chocolate and something good to read, something safe and reassuring, then this fantastic fiction is for you. It's a human AU enemies-to-lovers fiction where Aziraphale and Crowley can't stand each other, but work for the same media corporation as radio DJs and have to attend charity events together. The characterisation is spot on and the humour great. And what an incredible soundtrack! I honestly can't tell you how happy each notification of a new chapter of this story makes me!

Plus my own one shots:

Angel! Angel! They're At It Again! Rated M, 5k

It's the year 2030. The world never ended. Aziraphale and Crowley are living happily and safely together as a married couple. Everything would be well, if it wasn't that lately Aziraphale has been a bit busy. A bit distracted. Now, Crowley can't have that, can he? He seeks the advice of his girlfriends, who unwittingly give him an idea on how to liven up his marriage.

A fluffy story about how we get to a certain cottage.

In Vino Ludus, rated E, 3k

It's the year 2030. Crowley comes to the bookshop drunk, and Aziraphale can finally put all those years of eye-rolling practice to good use.

An as of yet canon divergent fluffy night in the life of an angel and a demon.

Do you have any go to Good Omens comfort fics?

i got u ❤️

stockholm’s other syndrome (T, 5k): aziraphale lets himself get ‘kidnapped’ by a demon. very cute and romcommy

sit tight take hold (E, 150k): formula 1 au that got me totally into f1 while i am not even a car person. the type of au that becomes its own thing and you love escaping to it again

where a canvas blooms (T, 3k): cuddle arrangement au with SUCH gorgeous art too it’ll make you feel so warm inside

manual handling (E, 8k): massage fic. ummm can an e rated fic be a comfort fic? sure why not. definite rereading material so

let me care for you (M, 1.7k) literal comfort — crowley gets cared for

big name feelings (E, 103k): fandom au and SO well done including the art. i followed this while it posted and it was so exciting

the gift (T, 3k): short & sweet they talk about the elephant in the room

my mind holds the key (T, 3k): aziraphale wants to know who the ‘best friend’ was that crowley supposedly lost. superbly written

one night in bangor (E, 17k): a classic and great on every reread. there’s a heaven-hell mixer and omg…. the careful, exciting, fluttering flirtation

slow show (E, 95k): i know i know it’s such an obvious one to rec bc it’s so famous but genuinely one of thee best fics and a lovely reread each time. actors au

empirical study on the principles of snake care (T, 2k): sorry to be that guy but sometimes i reread my own fics and i laugh with the little jokes bc i’ve forgotten them. aziraphale tries out some snake care tips on crowley

as always: begging people to add (self) recs to this post because i’d love to know what people’s comfort fics are. please share the joy

[rafesbabyg1rl]

The Watcher ~ Part One

Summary: Rafe Cameron x Reader, Stalker!Rafe x Pogue!Reader Reader's parents work late on Friday nights, which she spends alone. Except Reader hasn't been alone in a long time, not that she knows of at least. Rafe has watched you for years, he's very good at it. He has no plans of formally meeting you, as he's satisfied with the current arrangement. He likes it better when Reader doesn't know he's watching. But his idea of staying an anonymous stalker is ruined when reader catches him in her bedroom one Friday night. Rafe has to figure out how to fix his mistake before he loses the only thing that makes his life worth living.

Warnings: Rafe stalks reader...that's literally the entire plot. He's pretty pervy in this, I guess. Masturbation (Rafe) in front of unconscious reader, strong/vulgar language, somnophilia (I guess?), death threat(?). If I missed anything from this part that I should include in the warnings, please let me know!

Word Count: 5.9k

Author Note: My sneak peek got a few likes, so thank you if you liked it, y'all are the reason I'm finally posting this part! I'm not sure how I feel about this fic so far, I definitely have a habit of overly critiquing my own work and never being fully satisfied with it, but I'm trying to get over that. I don't have plans for this fic, it's just going in whatever direction I can think of as I write, so if you have any suggestions, PLEASE PLEASE PLEASEEE let me know, I'll write pretty much anything. This is my first work published on tumblr and the first thing I've written in years, so I hope it's at least readable, and maybe even a little enjoyable. If just one person enjoys this, then my mission is accomplished. Thank you, I hope you enjoy! And do NOT be shy to share feedback or give suggestions/requests. Again, thank you!

For those of you that DID read the sneak peek, a large portion of this part was included in the sneak peek, but I highly suggest reading it over in it's entirety. This draft has undergone several additional rounds of editing and I believe it is better than the version I published as a sneak peek.

One thing about humans is that we always want what we can’t have, especially when everyone else wants that same thing. It’s just something all humans do; but what happens when you already have more than you need and everything you could ever want? Well, almost everything. Rafe Cameron has more money than he could spend in his own lifetime, he can practically buy anything he wants. Except one thing, you.

At first he just thought you were pretty, but the more he saw you out in public the more and more he liked you. The way you’d talk or laugh when you were out with your friends…god, he could tell just how sweet you are. Too delicate for him to touch, like the wings of a butterfly or the petals of a flower. This is when he went from wanting you to needing you. 

See, another thing about humans is that we admire things. And, admiration can easily turn into obsession. Everyone has been obsessed with something or someone at some point in life, it’s normal. Obsessions will come and go, like a cycle. You get obsessed with something, you get over it, and you let it go until a new obsession marks the beginning of the new cycle. But things are a bit different for Rafe, he has never gotten over anything like, ever. Not once has Rafe Cameron ever let anything in his life go. When Rafe wants something, when he needs something, he will do whatever it takes to get it. And oh, how he needs you.

Rafe’s fascination, his obsession with you has been going on for years. He won’t ever admit it, but his perfectly curated collection of your personal items in his closet proves just how bad he’s been obsessing over you. The first thing he had ever stolen from you was your drink, you had been at the same party and you left your red solo cup about three-quarters full. Nobody noticed anything when he casually picked up the cup and finished the rest of your beer, purposely lining his lips with where yours had touched the cup, which was perfectly marked by the lipstick you had been wearing. After you’d leave a restaurant, he’d take the straws from your drinks. Rafe eventually worked himself up to breaking into your house and stealing your things when nobody was home. And Rafe made sure to explore every single inch of your room. All of your favorite panties? Gone. He’d take everything, your shirts, bras, whatever he liked really. You had noticed things kept disappearing from your room, but you’d just think you misplaced it–whatever it may be, or left it in a bag somewhere. Rafe had a good system. He knows exactly how much and how often he can take from you. 

Rafe knows he’s sick. He knows that it’s wrong to watch you from outside your bedroom window, that it’s wrong to follow you around in public, to purposely bump into you so you have to mutter a ‘sorry’ as you move around him. He just really, really needs you. And in Rafe’s twisted, dark, mess of a mind he believes this is the best way–the only way. He couldn’t treat you like every other girl, no, you were special. You were his and you just didn’t know it yet. Starting early on in his life, Rafe has always been neglected, always pushed into the shadow of his younger sister, Sarah. He’s been told he ruins everything, that everything he touches turns to ash. And you’re way too perfect to ruin. So, he follows you around like a creep, lurking from a distance. Of course you didn't know he’s been following you everywhere…he liked it better that way.

Rafe knew the line had already been crossed. Hell, the line had been crossed a long fucking time ago. He doesn’t care anymore, he needs you. Heaven is smelling like you; and not because you had left your scent on him, but because he had bought the same perfume as you. He needed to know what you smell like, how sweet you are…and how sweet you taste. Heaven is watching your chest rise and fall as you sleep peacefully in your bed. Heaven is you.

What Rafe has been doing to you for years could be defined as worship. Rafe was worshiping you. He’s your good boy; your loyal man and he was going to take care of you; protect you, even if you don’t know it yet. You’re what he lives for; you’re all that keeps him going, the only thing he cares about. 

Since he’s been watching you for years, of course he knew your schedule. Of course he knew that on Fridays your parents work late at the local bar & grill that they own. This means you slept in your house by yourself practically every Friday night. So every Friday night, Rafe would sneak in through the back door that you always forget to lock. He just wants to check on you, he wants to see his pretty girl sleeping beautifully, he wants to know that his baby is okay. This is not a crime, it’s not a crime to care; he’s not insane, he’s just in love–if you could even call it that. How can it be wrong to protect what’s his? nOh, and god forbid anyone ever get in the way of his stalking routine, if anyone were to take you away from the inevitable path of meeting him…oh, the things he would do; whatever it takes.

One unforgettable Friday night, you fall asleep on your couch watching a rerun of one of your favorite shows. You enjoy being alone. If only you knew you haven’t been alone for a very long time. You’re woken up by sudden, loud noises coming from your bedroom, but you think maybe it’s just the cat, or maybe you didn’t shut your window. You get up from the couch and in several slow, cautious steps you tiptoe over to your room. When you enter your doorway, you’re immediately greeted by the sight of a tall and broad man standing in the center of your bedroom holding the last shirt you wore to his nose, breathing in your scent. The sight of all this makes you immediately freeze and stand motionless in your bedroom doorway, staring at him blankly. 

Rafe doesn’t startle when he realizes you’ve caught him red-handed. Instead, quite the opposite actually. He’s actually a bit amused, relieved even; if you hadn’t caught him just now, he never would’ve been able to work up the nerve to finally talk to you. He didn’t want to have to be creepy about things between you two, but he couldn’t talk to you like a normal person. It’d be too unpredictable, too unknown. Meeting you like this…he has all of the control. 

“There you are,” he grinned. “How beautiful…” The strangely offputting man gloated in your fear and it was obvious.

You take a step back from where you had been frozen. He takes a step forward. This cannot be happening, you think. Your brows furrow in hopelessness and defeat. Again, you freeze where you are standing, even more afraid to move now. 

You feel like you’ve seen the man before, which you have, plenty of times; but he was careful to never have too big of an interaction, so that you couldn’t recognize his face. You have no clue that you’ve been and always will be his.

 “W-wha…who are you? W-why are you in my house?” You try to keep your voice as strong as possible, but the way your words shake with trepidation betrays you. 

The man takes a quick step forward, slowing to a stop and putting his hands up in mock surrender as you jump back. “Woah, woah, hey…calm down, alright?”, he chuckles when he sees the utter horror and complete fright in your eyes. His tone switches into one of a little more seriousness, “I'm not here to hurt you, you don't need to be so scared...”.  If you didn’t feel like your only choice was to look him in the eyes, you might even believe him. But, you had no other option but to witness the animalistic spark in his eyes that lit up with each word he spoke. With each step he took, you took one further back—your heart dropped into your stomach at the sight of his cocky, twisted smile and the way he looked at you…like you’re a zebra grazing in your natural habitat and he’s the lion waiting to pounce and attack you in your own home. 

“I just wanted to see you," he leaned up against your dresser, taking in the look on your face. His face almost instantly drops the predatory look and adopts one of mock concern, almost convincing enough to hide his amusement. “Hey, it's okay, baby, it’s okay…”

“Please,” you beg. “If you leave I won’t call the cops. I won’t tell.”

Rafe cocks his head and lets out a slow breath, as if he’s disappointed in your reaction; you aren’t supposed to want him to leave. “Hey, hey…I’m not gonna hurt you. Just listen to me��you don’t wanna have to call the cops at three in the morning,” he elaborated. He’s trying to be as convincing as he can because he cannot screw this up. Even so, he still can’t help his smile that only grows at the sight of your terrified face. He shakes the smirk off, adopting a serious expression once more. “Especially when the cops won't be able to do a damn thing.” 

He continues to step closer to you with each word. He stops once his figure is looming over you, looking at you like a lion about to pounce on its prey. “You should really be more careful, sweetheart, leaving the back door open like that at this time of night, when you’re all alone…you never know who might be out there.” His voice is cold as he warns you about the dangers of the world; the dangers of himself. 

“Who are you?” You repeated. The man looks so familiar but you just couldn’t quite place his face anywhere. You just need to know what he wants; who he is. 

“That’s not important right now baby…we’re focused on you, yeah?” The man’s eyes widen, taking in every detail of your face; the only other times he’s seen you this close is when he watches you sleep. 

You could feel his breath on your face as he spoke. The look in his eyes tells you to take another step back, but when your back collides with the wall you jump; there’s nowhere left for you to go and that was exactly how he wanted it. He wanted you like this alone, afraid, and cornered. He loved your fear. The man stares at you with a predatory look although aside from the darkness and lust in his eyes, you can see something else, but…what is it?  

“W-what do you want?” You ask, keeping as calm as you can. Even though with every passing second the air gets thinner and thinner. Your stomach is in knots and your throat starts to close up. Not to mention the stinging tears in your eyes, threatening to fall at any given moment.

“Me?” he cocked an eyebrow, his eyes shamelessly roaming your body as he blew out a huff. “I just wanna have a little chat, that's all...” The unknown man takes another step towards you, invading your personal space, his tall frame towering over you as his bottom lip finds a home between his teeth. Rafe reaches up and tucks a strand of your hair behind your ear. “No need to be so scared, baby...”

“T-talk about what?” You have no idea what this man who you don’t know, could possibly want to talk about with you. Why is he acting like he knows you when you’re sure you’ve never even seen him before? Why is he…admiring you? No, that couldn’t be right. The mystery man is so confusing, all his twists and turns giving you whiplash. 

“Ah, you see...” he responds, pausing to place his other hand on the wall behind you, almost trapping you in. You feel his hot breath against the sensitive skin of your face, burning you like hot steam. His breath was slow and steady. He was completely calm. He liked this. He gave you a genuine smirk, bringing his face closer to your ear. “It’s more of a proposition really…”

“What is it…?” You ask. Not out of curiosity because honestly, you’re too afraid to know. But because you figure things might, just might go better for you if you play along. He stayed silent for a moment—enjoying the look in your eyes and your erratic breathing.

“All this fear…all this trembling...” he trails off as he brings his hand up to your chin, his thumb slowly tracing the outline of your lower lip. “It's nice to finally meet you...” He chuckles and leans in so that his lips nearly touch your ear. “Will you stop shaking like that if I tell you what I want?” His thumb moves from your bottom lip and he tucks a piece of your hair behind your ear; he doesn’t want anything getting in the way of his view of your pretty face.“Hmmm?” he challenged. “Or will you still be shaking like a scared little puppy?”

“I-I don’t…” You stutter, not being able to speak or even think clearly with the way he’s glaring at you. 

“Shhhh… ” he tutted, bringing his other hand from the wall to your lower back and drawing you even closer to him—until your body was almost flush against his, his touch surprisingly warm. “You're not answering my question,” he whispers your name as he runs his fingers through your hair, it’s softer than he’d imagined. 

“Please just…” The tears were no longer threatening as they began to fall down your cheeks. “Please…” Hearing this man who you do not know, say your name, was probably the most frightening thing to happen to you yet. 

“Shhh, stop that...” he calmly commanded when he saw the tears falling from your pretty eyes. Rafe's voice was soft but stern—he hated seeing you so distressed. His hand moved from your lower back to your chin, making you look up at him. “Hey it’s okay…it’s okay baby, no need for tears. I just wanna talk to you is all." You almost believe him for a moment with how sincere the glint in his eyes appeared. But you’ve picked up on his manipulative expressions. 

“My parents will be home soon…” You vaguely remember your parents mentioning something about something and blah blah blah…they’re closing early tonight. You really hope it’s true and isn’t just a figment of your imagination; something your mind is making up so you don’t completely give up. 

A cocky smile returned to his face as he let a small huff of amusement slip past his lips. He knew your parents were working late, just like every other Friday night. "Bullshit,” he chuckled. His hand moved back to your lower back, holding you against him. “It’s just you and me, pretty girl.” He grabs your waist and within the next second, you’re on your bed and he’s hovering over you. You can feel his hot breath in your ear, you can smell him, feel the excessive heat radiating from his body. He speaks quietly now, more serious than he’s been this entire time, “Don’t ever fuckin’ lie to me again. Got it?”

His words provoke a small whimper from you. How long has he been watching you? What’s he gonna do? What does he want to talk about? Your mind is filled with questions you’re too afraid to ask. “I-I’m not lying.” He leans down, his lips almost touching yours. Rafe’s eyes are looking straight into yours, admiring the complete and utter fear your eyes possess. He doesn’t want you to be scared of him. But fuck, does he love it.

“Oh yeah?” He mumbles as he presses his face into your hair, taking in your scent. He can’t believe he’s finally this close to you. He didn’t think it’d ever happen, and if you didn’t catch him tonight, it probably wouldn’t have. It’s meant to be, he thinks. “What did I tell you about lying, hm baby? I know you’re fuckin’ lyin’ to me, so you wanna try that again?”

Before your brain could muster up some bullshit response, the sound of the front door unlocking echoes through the hall and into your bedroom. Rafe holds his breath and puts his hand over your mouth, causing your eyes to widen as he leans to the side to glance down the hallway at the front door. “Shh…”, he whispers. You weren’t lying. Your parents came home from work early and they’re about to turn the doorknob and come inside the house. Rafe looks at you, the look in his eyes beyond unsettling. “Tell the cops…tell anyone, and I’ll come back and fuckin’ kill you, okay? This is our secret. Don’t make me come back and hurt you babe, I really, really don’t wanna have to do that, alright?” 

He has to be bluffing, right? But, when you look up to meet his gaze, you can tell; you can tell he meant every single syllable that he spoke. It’s not like the cops would believe you if you said you had a stalker anyways, you’re a pogue. And cops never believe a pogue. Rafe doesn’t need a response from you, the fear in your eyes tells him all he needs to know.

 Just before you hear the front door open, Rafe smirks at you. “We’re gonna have so much fun together baby.” Reluctantly, the disturbed man leans back and takes his hands away from you. Without another word, he walks over to your bedroom window and pushes it open. Before ducking to climb out, the large man looks back at you. Your breath hitches even further if that’s even possible.

 “Goodnight puppy.” The outline of his smug grin is visible even in the darkness of your room. Just as you hear the quiet voices of your parents enter your house, the dark figure turns and exits your window. When the man is outside you sit up and rush over to shut and lock the window behind him. 

With caution, Rafe watches as your mother comes to peek her head in your bedroom. She only lingers in your doorway long enough to see your dark shape laying in bed. Covered in blankets, you pretend to sleep, knowing that you wouldn’t be able to hold a casual conversation with your mother at the moment. And the last thing you want to do is raise any alarm. Not while he’s out there–whoever he is. Hot, salty tears fall from your eyes, wetting the soft skin of your cheeks. When she shuts the door, you let out a shaky breath, finally being able to breathe.But, you keep your eyes sealed shut. At least then you can’t see if the man is still watching you from outside your window. You lie awake for hours, how are you meant to go back to sleep after whatever the hell just happened? All you can do now is wait. Is he coming back? When will he come back? Who is he? Why does he want you? There’s a million different questions and worst scenarios circling around in your head. So, you just wait, it’s all you can do. 

As you wait, the hours turn into days, days turning into a week as the next Friday approaches you; you spend your time worrying about having to be home alone again. There still had been no sign of him since your encounter last week, but you decide to stay the night at a friend’s house, not wanting to take the risk. The second Friday after you came face-to-face with your stalker, you get a friend to spend the night with you. And now, after four weeks of waiting there’s still no sign of the deranged man. Although, if you had no knowledge of him stalking you for years he clearly is good at staying hidden. As the fourth Friday approaches, you think over your options. You can go to a friend’s house or have a friend stay over, as you’ve been doing. But, you’re tired of waiting for something to happen. You’re sick of not feeling safe in your own home and of having to look over your shoulder at all times. You used to love being alone, and now it’s been weeks since you’ve spent any time to yourself. You’ve had enough. This Friday you’re not hiding, you’re done being a coward. You will not allow this creep to keep taking away everything you love; you won’t allow yourself to waste any more time worrying about that psycho. So, you stay at home by yourself. He’s not gonna show, right? He was just bluffing or on drugs or something, that’s what you convince yourself.

You pull back the fluffy comforter on your bed and climb in. You pull the covers up and completely over yourself, you used to do this as a little girl when you’d have a nightmare or you’re scared of the thunder or the monster in your closet. If the blanket could protect you when you were little it should work now…right? Well, maybe it’d still work if you had a nightmare, but logically, what is it gonna do against your stalker? But no matter how much you force yourself to believe that he’s not coming back, you still find yourself praying. You’ve never been very religious, but recently you pray to whoever will listen. 

You had bought some sleeping pills from the store a few days after you discovered your secret stalker. They helped you sleep, since your brain hasn’t once stopped thinking about him since the whole fiasco. Reaching over, you pull out the drawer of your nightstand. You grab the bottle of pills, you swallow a couple dry and set the rest on your nightstand. The pills start to kick in quite sooner than usual, must be because you took double the amount…you’re gonna need them to fall asleep tonight. Your first night alone in weeks. In just a few short minutes, you’re out cold, buried underneath an absurd amount of pillows and blankets.

Rafe spent the past few weeks feeling overwrought after what he did. He feels wrong–a feeling he’s not used to experiencing. But it’s because he knows he’s ruined any chance he might’ve had with you. Before you caught him in your bedroom, he had a chance that you could meet him regularly and think he was just a normal guy. But now, all hopes of you ever thinking he’s ‘normal’ have been abandoned. He actually feels shame and…regret for his actions? He’s been seeing less and less of you, and it’s making him angry, so fucking angry. Your schedule has been relatively the same for the past years and now you’re switching it up? You’re hiding from him; running from him just like everyone else in his life. Maybe the things his family has been saying about him for most of his life is true; maybe everything he touches does turn to ash. God, why does he ruin everything? 

You are the one thing, the only thing that Rafe did not want to ruin. You’re the one thing in his life that’s too perfect to ruin…too innocent. But, the damage has been done. He doesn't have many options left. He could leave you alone, but then he’d be weak for not sticking to his word and he can’t have you thinking he’s weak and that you have the power. He could go back, but then what would he do? There was absolutely no way in hell you’d seriously talk to him, and he didn’t want to force himself onto you. He really wanted you to need him back, you have to want it. But everything you do or say now will be out of fear, it’ll be you trying to stay alive. He wanted you to be desperate for him, not desperate to get rid of him. Either way, you’re never gonna forgive him; you’ll always hate him now. Since you’ll feel the same no matter what he does now, he decides that he just needs to see you, he needs to talk to you again. It’s been far too long since he’s been close to you. He can’t take another goddamn second without seeing his reason to live.

He hurries over to your house, parking an entire block away as usual. He makes sure no eyes are on him as he sneaks around to your backyard. Rafe tries peeking through the curtains that block your window to see if you were in bed or not, but he can’t get a good view. He needs to know if you’re home. He needs to see you. 

Rafe sneaks around to the side of your house, checking all windows and doors in the process, but he has no such luck. But he doesn’t give up yet, he’ll get in, he’ll find a way. He tries the side door that leads into your garage. He lets out a giant breath of relief when the door clicks open. Once he’s inside the garage, he takes a quick glance around to analyze his surroundings and burn every inch of your house into his memory. When he finally enters your house, he takes his time to look around. Obviously Rafe knew you were a pogue–he knew everything about you, but you never really looked or acted like one. However, the inside of your home puts your life on display, making it very clear you’re a pogue. 

You sleep soundly, only being interrupted by the occasional dream; completely unaware that your stalker is making his way down the hall and into your bedroom. Rafe opens the door quietly. Your room is dark like the rest of your house, but the moonlight shining through your thin curtains provides just enough light that he can see the outline of your sleeping body. Now that your presence has been confirmed, he feels like he can finally breathe and he lets out a breath he didn’t even know he was holding. 

Before he became totally obsessed with you and he’d see you occasionally in public, you used to just make him horny. He’d catch a glimpse of your smile or hear the softness in the way you spoke, or the innocence in your sweet laugh and his dick would be hard within seconds. And when his obsession grew and he’d watch you more frequently, sex with other girls started not doing anything for him. He needed you…he needs you. When he actually started paying attention to the way you spoke, the way you acted, he fell in love–what he thinks is love anyways. Rafe realized you’re the sweetest, most pure person he’s ever known. He didn’t think people like you really existed. His discovery led him to watch you more closely, he started taking more risks just because he needed to find your flaw. There’s no way you’re actually this perfect, it has to be an act. Now, after years of watching you he can confidently say that you really are just that perfect. Rafe needs you for more than just getting off now, he needs your comfort, he needs the kindness that radiates off of you. Which is why he’s always trying to find a way to get closer to you, he needs to absorb your sweetness. But hes really done it now; he’s fucked up big time. You hate him.

He hadn’t realized that the hate he brought upon you would tint the kindness that radiates for your being. He has to get you to let go of the hate he’s caused you, he needs you to be yourself again. He just doesn't know how, if it’s even possible.

 As you sleep soundly, his large frame towers over you as he stares down at you through the darkness. You look so peaceful, so innocent. It physically pains him to know that he’s taken away parts of your innocence. All he can do is stare at you as he mentally curses himself. He can’t wake you up and ruin your small moment of peace. It’s better if you don’t know he’s there. 

Your stalker slowly raises his hand and uses his thumb and pointer finger to pull your blanket down to your knees. Even with the blankets pulled down most of your body was hidden from him. Almost everything is left to the imagination in the loose, patterned pj pants and the oversized, long sleeve shirt that you’re wearing. He can only see a small portion of your lower stomach due to your shirt slightly riding up. And that small bit of skin is enough to trigger his memories of you. Because of course he’s seen you countless times; he’s got your body memorized.

He’s practically panting as he takes in the sight of you, imagining that you’re unclothed beneath him; his memory is sharp enough to almost see it. His cock grows to press against his jeans and his eyes trail up to your beautiful face. The ache in his needy cock starts to become unbearable. Your name slips past his lips in the form of a mumble when he starts to palm himself through his newly tightened jeans. 

Okay, Rafe has definitely jerked off to the thought of you, your smell…everything about you makes him lose whatever control he ever even had to begin with. Something he hasn’t gotten to do yet is jerk off with you right in front of him as a live viewing source, fresh for his eyes. He’s gonna be able to cross that off the bucket list soon enough; he can’t wait any longer. His hand stops its ministrations over his jeans as his head turns and he moves over to your closet, grabbing a pair of delicate, worn panties from the top of your laundry hamper. He brings the treasure up to his nose to smell you. God, he could cream his fucking pants right now. He quietly walks back over to you, taking a look at the pill bottle on your nightstand. He picks it up with his free hand, eyes quickly scanning over the label. He smirks as he sets it back down. Rafe turns his head to look back at you. His smirk grows even wider as he leans back, cocking his head as he observes you. Yeah, you’re definitely gonna be out for a while.

With his pants and boxers around his ankles, he stands over you. Your panties between his hand and his cock as his fist slowly pumps up and down his length. His other hand meticulously pulls your shirt up to reveal your chest.

“Fuckkk…” he whispers under his breath as his bottom lip is held captive between his teeth. Your perfect tits are spilling out of your bra as you lie asleep on your back. He lightly fiddles with the ends of your hair as his hand pumps over his dick repeatedly and without rhythm. He takes his time, Rafe never likes to rush this. Especially not with you.

Your subconscious mind reacts to his light touch and sounds, pulling you into a wet dream; seeing as a main side effect of the medication you took was vivid dreams. You’ve also been unusually horny lately, probably because you’d been too afraid to touch yourself when you thought you were being watched twenty-four/seven. His fingers trail up your stomach and into the valley of your breasts with feather light touch.

You stir a bit, not because you felt him, but because the dream you’ve been thrown into by your subconscious is starting to get your body all worked up. You’ve been extra horny recently and keep having sex dreams since you haven’t been able to touch yourself the past few weeks, having a stalker and all. As he leans down to lightly kiss the skin in between your boobs, a moan slips past his lips, vibrating off of your skin and interrupting the mostly silent room. The only other sound that can be heard in the quiet room is that caused by Rafe’s hand quickly moving up and down his cock; the friction caused by the soft fabric of your panties generates a quiet noise. Pre-cum leaks from his slit and seeps into the fabric of your recently worn panties. He leans back down to create a hickey on your chest and hopes that you won’t wake up from the sudden feeling, although if you did that might be even better. Shaking the selfish thought out of his head, he sucks strongly at the smooth skin between your beautiful tits. He pulls his mouth off with a pop! Leaning back to see the mark he left, he smirks knowing you’ll see it too eventually. The already rhythmless movements of his hand gets even more erratic the closer he gets to reaching his orgasm. 

The man standing above you runs his hand back down your chest and abdomen as you sleep. Completely unaware of what's happening to your physical body right now, you begin to get all wrapped up in your dream. You only ever get sex dreams when you’re so overly horny, which you’ve been the past few weeks. That combined with the sleeping medication you took, made this particular dream feel different; it felt so…real. The only dream-like part about it was that you couldn’t see the man's face for whatever reason. 

While you’re in a deep sleep, you involuntarily let out a needy whine as your active mind plays games with you. When Rafe hears you he thinks he imagined it, until he hears you do it again. He wonders if you could feel him, except he’s not even touching you right now. Realizing that's clearly not the reason, he furrows his brows in confusion. He pulls the duvet cover completely off of you to reveal the way you keep periodically squirming as your body searches for the same feeling your mind is experiencing; and the way your toes tighten up and curl as you’re tricked into thinking you feel pleasure. 

He can’t take it, not when you look like this. The man hovering over your unconscious figure lets out a lewd moan that corrupts the silence as hot strings of his cum spurt out of the pink, glistening tip of his cock and onto the pair of your panties that he's got clenched in his fist, immediately soaking into the fabric. Surprisingly, when he gets through his orgasm, he adoringly covers you back up with your blankets and leaves your house, locking the door he entered through to be sure you were safe. He got enough to satisfy him for now as he works on a plan to change the way you think of him.  He’ll be back for more of you soon enough. He has to fix this; the biggest mistake he’s ever made and the only regret he’ll ever carry. 

To be continued...

Thank you for reading! I hope this was enjoyable and not a waste of time. I spent a lot of time on this part, especially with the editing since I never really feel done with anything. If you have literally ANY feedback, questions, or suggestions, PLEASE feel free to let me know! I don't really have any solid plans for this fic so if you have any ideas I just might include them, there's not much I won't write!

[oatmealdaydreams]

Black Hole Fantasy: I'm pulling in the driveway, I'm turning off the car

Let me know if ya wanna be added on or taken off the general taglist!

Part 1

Inspired By Works: the Shifter Stan AU made by @the-east-art! Check out her stuff, it's super good. Shout out to East!

Pairing: Stan Pines & Ford Pines, gen

Warnings: Homelessness, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse

Summary: After reconciling, Stan answers what he can while Ford asks questions about his shifting abilities. Most of them are expected from his nerdy brother: how certain shifts work, what kind of limits there are, what the deal is with partial shifts, and all that. But then Ford asks about how he found out about his abilities, and…and Stan debates if it’s a good idea telling his brother about his time driving in Mount Tammany.  Stan cannot lie to Ford without him seeing right through it, anyway.

Notes: Wrote a majority of this today (as of posting) because I damn well know a lot of us need some comfort right now.

[Masterlist] | ao3 link

[read under the cut]

Stan expected this. It’s Ford, he’s gonna be all nerdy and ask questions and wanna know more about things he doesn’t understand so he can understand them. He expected this. 

As soon as the question leaves Ford’s mouth, he can tell it probably isn’t the best thing to ask, for whatever reason that may be, because Stan tenses in his seat and his gaze darts away from his brother. 

Stan expected this. It’s Ford, he’s gonna be all nerdy and ask questions and wanna know more about things he doesn’t understand so he can understand them. He expected this. 

The younger twins are due to arrive within the next week or so for another summer. Stan’s surprised their parents are letting back to Gravity Falls—depending on what they told their parents—but he’s not complaining. He grew attached to those chaotic gremlins rather quickly. They’re family, after all. Stan knows he’s got a weak spot for ‘em. Ford gives him shit about it sometimes when he’s being all stubborn and grumpy. It doesn’t come from a place of hypocrisy, though. Ford’s just as bad as Stan is when it comes to their niblings, and he most often admits it.

The time sailing across the vast seas on the Stan O’ War II with Ford helped with remembering things. Stan had remembered most of his life—the important bits, at least. There were still holes in his recollection here and there, still are, but important memories stuck before the rest of it. The fact that he had a twin brother named Stanford, his niblings, most of what he’s done while in Gravity Falls, the entire Portal Situation, and almost everything that has to deal with a certain triangular dream demon. When he has relapses, Ford is always there to help him remember and support him until the memories come back. Childhood can be a bit blurry sometimes. He doesn’t quite remember much about their father, but Ford reassures him that he’s not someone to worry about; Stan trusts Ford. That, and the way Ford’s eyes darken every time he mentions him…well, he can piece things together on his own. Some people aren’t worth remembering. That’s okay. 

One of the periods in his life he struggles to remember much of is the ten years before he arrived in Gravity Falls. Ford doesn’t know much about them, either. When a memory from then resurfaces, it can be…really shitty. Sometimes, when a relapse happens and it involves something from his years being homeless, it gets a lot harder to calm Stan down. Especially since all the memories he’s remembered from then so far have been what his niblings would call ‘unfairly traumatic’. Stan knows by now where he got all his survival skills, at least. 

There are a few memories from when he first got on the streets that aren’t so bad. A few failed attempts at cheap products that got him banned in some places. He vaguely remembers his Stan Vac, the whole not-rash-causing rash-causing bandaids, little things like those. His leaky towels that made stains worse. 

His drive up through Mount Tammany. 

Stan remembers a particular night from that. Getting banned from New Jersey and trying his luck in the next state over. Dark nights where the skies were perfect for stargazing if he’d only let himself stay still for a few minutes. But then again, staying still for even a second on the road is the kinda thing that gets ya killed. So. He can always stargaze now, though. Ford always watched the stars when they got the chance at sea. Maybe they can do that again, now, in a place that doesn’t involve a surprising constant of sea-bound critters out ta get their asses. 

The fucking point: he remembers sitting in his car on the roadside, alone, in the middle of nowhere up on a mountain, getting all teary over his stupid fucking hands. He’d shifted them by accident, and suddenly six fingers replaced five. Missing Ford did that kinda shit, he supposes. Intertwining a five-fingered hand with a six-fingered one nearly broke him. Stan can punch a pterodactyl in its damn face, but he’s weak when it comes to his family. To his brother. 

Stan hopes Ford never finds out about it. He hopes he does find out about it. It’s a complicated mess of things. 

They sit in the chairs in the living room. Some rerun of an earlier Ducktective episode plays at low volume, perfect for background noise. Ford noticeably has a notepad and a blue-inked pen out on his lap. Stan’s counting down the seconds it takes for his brother to ask whatever questions he has on his mind. It only takes about thirty seconds for him to burst. A new record, really. 

“Can I ask you a few questions about your shifting?” Ford’s eyes twinkle like the fucking stars. 

Stan shrugs, genuinely open to it, “Sure, why not.” 

Ford’s excited little smile is plenty of reward for agreeing to this. He knows if he said no, Ford would back off. He’d be a bit disappointed, yeah, but he’d back off. Brothers are like that, y’know. 

His brother readies himself with his pen and all, eagerness leaking off him like some weird mist or something. 

“How can you shift into a mermaid but not into a partial fish shift?”

“It’s not that simple, Poindexter. There’re limits to it.”

The sound of a gliding pen across paper, “I suppose that makes sense. Even with Shifty, he had to learn through visualization before he could shift into something. Perhaps you mimic in a similar fashion,” There's a brief pause as Ford writes another note. “What are the limitations?”

“Well,” Stan grunts out a sigh, “for one, shifts hafta be made of the same base stuff that humans are. Size is another thing. Can’t shift inta somethin’ too small or too large. And, uh, partial shifts are their own thing, not very sustainable. ‘S why I gotta shift into a full merfolk instead ‘a partial fish.”

Ford nods along to his brother, scribbling notes hastily as he talks. There’s a sense of ease that blankets the air between them. Lounging in the tv room, talking, listening, just hanging out with each other. When was the last time they did shit like this? When was the last time it started to feel easy? Maybe it’s because he’s answerin’ the things that he does know about his shifting abilities, but a warmth blossoms in Stan’s chest at the realization of how much it reminds him of being kids. Yappin’ with each other. No arguin’ or nothin’, just…yappin’. It’s nice. 

“Wait, so—” a readjust of Poindexter’s glasses, “Then how come you’ve shifted into partial cat eyes or…ah, the partial bear shift the kids told me about?” 

“It ain’t sustainable, so it doesn’t last long,” Stan tries, though he’s pretty sure he just explained the partial shift thing. “Wouldn’t wanna randomly shift underwater, y’know? And fish shifts are always a bitch to shift in and outta.” 

“Ah, I see. Why are fish—”

“The gills, nerd. Breathing’s all different an’ shit.”

“Oh, well, nevermind then.”

Stan snorts at him, and Ford playfully rolls his eyes. He writes a few more notes down. Stan taps his fingers on the arm of his chair, lightly drumming out a tuneless rhythm. A companionable silence fills the room, and for once, he doesn’t feel the need to replace it with some sort of sound. Probably because he’s already making noise with his tappin’, but still. It’s like a gentle inhale of fresh pine air, drifting around them. It’s calm. It’s as quiet as any ambience can be. It’s peaceful. 

And it only lasts for a few minutes, thankfully, because Stan might’ve started tappin’ with two hands instead of one if it went on for too long. It’s still silence, after all. Nothing good has come with complete silence.

“Given what you’ve explained…how does your shifting work?” and this question has the stars in Ford’s eyes turning into spotlights that gleam onto Stan. 

Stanley clicks, shrugging, “Tch, I don’t know.”

Ford glances up from his notepad, pen stilling, “What?”

“I don’t know how it works, Six.”

“How can you not know how it works? It’s your shifting!”

“I’ve been busy.”

“But you just explained—”

“I know some things, just not everything!”

“How—wait, okay. What were you so busy with that you didn’t explore your shifting more?”

The peaceful air thins. There’s a slight pressure, tension, something that threatens to smother them if they don’t tread this carefully. A choking hazard. 

Stan scoffs, a biting voice, “Jeez, Six, do ya not remember bein’ shoved into a massive fuckin’ portal? And I thought I was the amnesiac.”

He winces as soon as he says it. That was a bit harsher than he intended, honestly. It’s in the past. Sure, there’re still some shit they gotta work out, but now wasn’t the time. Why is he always biting like a wounded feral dog when it comes to shit like that? What is he, a beaten hound? 

Ford goes sheepish, “Oh, right…”

It’s awkward. The tense air simmers like New Mexico’s summer heat. It blazes underneath the first layer of their skin. It fizzles and crackles and makes both of the older twins fidget in their seats. Stan shifts his weight in his chair, and his finger-tappin’ gets quicker. 

Ford clears his throat, “Right, well, I—thank you, Stanley.” 

A small, fond smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. Warmth fills his chest like waves of the ocean, his heart sighing pleasant beats. Ford’s said it a number of times while they were sailing. Some nights, when the beer was cold and the stars were glistening across the vast seas, they figured out talkin’ about shit. Not everything, no, not even some of the things they probably should, but they were still important things they needed to talk about. The portal was one of them. At least, some of it. The parts that Stan remembered in flashes. Memory of its entirety came back before they returned to Gravity Falls, but he digresses. They talked about some shit, and Ford made a point of saying ‘thank you’ a lot more. He still does it. 

The tense air dissipates a significant amount, easing, calming, gentle.

“Yeah, whatever, Poindexter,” Stan waves it off, but he couldn’t wipe the little smile on his face if he tried. “What else ya got, huh?”

Ford shares his own little smile, glancing down briefly at his notes, “Well, let’s see…oh! How did you initially find out about your shifting?”

And the tense air returns with a sharp bite. 

As soon as the question leaves Ford’s mouth, he can tell it probably isn’t the best thing to ask, for whatever reason that may be, because Stan tenses in his seat and his gaze darts away from his brother. 

“Of course, if you don’t remember it,” Ford adds quickly, “Just the earliest you can remember.”

Stan considers what to do here. He’s been given an out. He can just give the easy excuse that he doesn’t remember. It wouldn’t be too far a lie, what, with how fickle his memory from that far back can be. It’s still a lie, though. He does remember that night driving through Mount Tammany. Although it may not be his first experience with his new-found shifting abilities, it is one of the earliest. It would be around the time he first found out, anyway. 

And he’d promised Ford on the boat that he’d try and talk to him. They both did. They made that promise. Stan is tired of breaking things. He won’t break a promise to Ford, especially now that they’re on much better terms. He can’t risk fucking this peace up. It’s too precious now. There’s been too much work and hard nights and shed tears they’ll never comment on. Stan won’t break it for anything. 

He sighs, refusing to face Ford while he does this. 

“It ain’t much. Just a drive through the mountains,” he forewarns, “Nothin’ pretty, nothin’ ugly.” 

Ford’s eyes widen in momentary surprise, as if he’d expected Stan to take the out. He shakes it off, leaning in slightly. An eager listener. A nod to show he understands. 

Alright, we’re fuckin’ doin’ this, Stan thinks. 

A gruffer sigh, “Just been banned from Jersey, I think. A few failed business ventures or whatever, and I was drivin’ up through Mount Tammany.”

Stan ignores whatever Ford’s reaction is to him being banned from their home state. He can’t handle reactions if he’s gonna commit to this. Grabbing a half-drank can of Pitt Cola, givin’ something for his hands to do. Idle hands ain’t gonna do good. He can’t risk havin’ idle hands that reach for violence and excuses. This ain’t the time for it. Not now, not now. 

He swallows, continuing, “It’s dark, probably in the middle of the night. Got used ta drivin’ in late hours so much I don’t think it made a difference.” 

The scene itself starts to unravel in front of his mind’s eye. He can almost see it, hear it, smell it. He keeps talking. 

“Mind kept driftin’, so I had ta pull over. I was wonderin’ about…people. Where they were, how’d they been, all that. Guess they really got to me, heh.” 

Ford doesn’t need to ask who he’s referring to. This one, he knows. He knows what Stan is like when he talks about missing Ford. It’s one ‘a those times. 

“Not even twenty yet, y’know. Still young enough to have a weak stomach about things. I couldn’t keep drivin’ all those curves up in the mountains like that, else I was gonna crash or somethin’. I pull over.”

Stan has to pause for a moment, swallowing again. He tries not to get lost in the memory. He fidgets with the can in his hand, thumbing across its smooth surface. Remind himself where he is. Remember he’s in a chair next to his brother, and not breakin’ at the sight of holding a five-fingered hand and a six-fingered one together. Five plus six is eleven. It’d only been ten years when he saw Ford next after that, but it sure felt like eleven centuries with the way they’d changed. 

No longer lookin’ like each other. Both scared outta their minds and desperate. They’re twins; but back then, they’d been strangers that shared a last name. Not even that. Stan’s used many names throughout the years. He’s worn many faces, too. Droppin’ his shift for the first time in years, just to see his brother, had been a lot more unsettling than he thought it’d be. 

Right, explain’ Mount Tammany. 

Stan shakes his head lightly, ignoring his lingering thoughts of triangular portals. 

“I felt the extra fingers before I saw ‘em,” a hitch of breath besides Stan, but he continues through it, “Six fingers on each hand. The last I recall, I wasn’t the one with hands like that. Turns out I shifted ‘em without thinking.” 

Stan does that sometimes. In moments of heightened emotion—distress, usually—his body decides to kick into gear without askin’ Stan first and shifts itself into whatever it deems necessary to survive the situation. He heard Wendy explain it as a trauma response once. She’d been taking this psychology class to avoid some shitty required course that had a shitty teacher. She’s smart. Gonna do some pretty great shit one day, that kid. Badass enough as it is, really. What highschooler can say they’ve survived the literal apocalypse without referrin’ to a video game? 

“I was already a weak mess at that point,” Stan hesitates, thumbing the can in his hand again. Quiet noises come from Ford’s chair, and he tries to write it off as squeaky furniture. “I, uh…shifted one hand back, and…intertwined them. ‘Bout broke me. I was already fucked-up with drivin’ in the middle of the night, anyway. Y’know, lackin’ sleep and all. That shit.”

Stan cannot look in Ford’s direction after he’s finished. He keeps fiddling with the Pitt can in his hand. His other hand drums a tuneless rhythm on the arm of his chair. He can’t have idle hands. They reach for things. Reaching for Ford might not be a good idea right now. Hey, at least Stan’s actually thinkin’ for once in his damn life. Mabel’s childlike optimism is rubbin’ off ‘a him. 

The quiet noises include a sniffle, and Stan feels something in his chest crack like a statue about to fall off a breaking cliff. Something’s about to break and fall into the churnin’ waters below. The sea can be just as much of a hell as it can be a comfort. Life’s like that, he supposes. Your greatest comfort can be your easiest weak point. 

They sit there, not talking, not looking at each other, hardly making a sound. It’s a fragile air. It’s a thin glass sheet. They’ve had practice on the Stan ‘O War II with learning how to navigate moments like these, but this? This is something else. This is about an earlier memory of being kicked out from home. This is about when Stan learned he was just as anomalous as his brother. This is about one of the first times Stan lost a little hope. This is different. It’s fragile, and Stan’s never been good with fragile things. He breaks what he touches. He doesn’t know how to touch this without cracking the glass like a hammer to a stained glass window. 

Neither of them breathe for a moment. 

How the hell do you navigate a conversation like this? How did it turn into thinly-veiled raw emotion with the steadiness of a paper house? The pivot from your average sibling bickering and stupid smiles to something made of a deck of flimsy cards. A sharp pivot. A sudden pivot. Where did the fragility come from? 

Ford, surprisingly, is the one to break the stained-glass window. 

“Lee,” his voice is thicker, choking, full of hitching breaths and sniffling that becomes all the more noticeable with the uneasy silence. 

Stan can’t help but turn to his brother as soon as that nickname is uttered. There’s a lump in his throat at the sight of Ford’s red-rimmed eyes behind the guise of his blocky glasses. He doesn’t have it in him to swallow it down. 

Okay, they’re doing this. Great. This is fine. 

“Six,” Stan responds, and he sounds just as bad as Ford.

He ignores the prickling droplets in his eyes. 

“You—when did—” words come tumbling out of Ford’s mouth like foreign concepts of another dimension. 

“It’s fine, Poindexter,” an attempt at waving things off, even with how messy their voices are right now, because he cannot stand seeing his brother look so distressed.

“It’s not fine, Stanley.”

“...It’s not.”

“You were banned from Jersey?”

Starting there, okay.

“‘S what happens when yer products are a total sham.” 

“I–yes, I get that, I just…I saw the commercials. Thought you figured it out, and  not…”

“You saw the commercials?”

A pause, “Ah, well, yes. It was the only time I ever saw you.” 

Something about that twists a heart or two. Neither of them can tell if it’s their own or each other’s. It doesn’t matter, really. It twists all the same. 

“You went through Mount Tammany?” Ford continues. 

“Headed towards Pennsylvania. Business opportunities and all that.”

“Ah.”

“Yeah.”

Moses, they’re pushing towards seventy and still this awkward? What are they, pre-teens?

“Can you show me?” Ford is so quiet that Stan almost doesn’t hear him.

“Uh, what?”

“Just—you said you shifted into six fingers, so…” the shrug he gives is a little unlike him, but this entire conversation is a little unlike them. Too many emotions going ‘round in a circus display of some spin-top toy. 

Well…not exactly where Stan thought this conversation would go, but it’s not a bad direction. Just show his brother that he can have six-fingered hands like he does. He’s done it before. It’s not the shift that holds a heavy weight behind it, but it’s the reason Ford’s even asking. He’s not gonna point out that Ford’s already seen him with similar hands before. 

Stan tears a hole in the paper house, and he nods. 

Ford watches with a gaze of…something. Careful curiosity is in there somewhere. Along with whatever else is racin’ through his damn head. Lots of things today, huh?

Stan doesn’t need to concentrate as much as he usually does with partial shifts. This one is something he’s practiced and done so often that it’s instinctual. In fact, he glances down and notices one of his hands already has six fingers. He shifts the other to match. Ford stares. He fidgets with his own six-fingered hands. They twitch like they wanna reach out. Stan feels that echo in his knuckles, his joints, the bones of his wrists and hands and even in his sockets. 

Stan slowly reaches out first. 

Ford spares a darting glance at his face, and he meets him halfway. 

They hold hands. 

The very much not-there-at-all tears glide down Stan’s face. Ford’s sniffling again as his breath hitches again. Quiet sounds flitter around the room. Little sounds. Sounds they won’t admit to making because that means admitting to crying over holding hands, and they sure as hell ain’t gonna do that. Doing that means facing the truth of how heavy it feels. Holding hands with your brother isn’t supposed to be heavy. He’s seen Mabel and Dipper hold each other’s hands, and they certainly don’t get weepy over it. Not that Stan would dare to make fun outta them if they did, no, he rather shift in and out of bein’ a fish a million times before he even thinks about doin’ such a thing. 

Ford squeezes, and Stan squeezes back. 

A deck of flimsy cards topples over and scatters across the floor in a whirlwind of sad old men and old wounds. 

Little birds keep close together for winter. 

A sparrow holds his brother’s hand, and it brings more comfort than he’d thought possible. Maybe the scared teen that drove through Mount Tammany heals a little. Maybe the lost kid that cried over his hands while stranded alone in his car starts to smile again. 

A small, teary smile tugs at the corner of Stan’s mouth.

Taglist: @lost-in-thought-20 @thegoldenduckie @not-sure-what-im-feeling

[glossdebut]

PRICE OF FAME | MYG ★ PLAYLIST

hello!!! music is going to play a very important part in the price of fame series, so i wanted to post this playlist i’ve been working on since september when i originally had the idea for the story! i have been listening to this playlist nonstop while writing and i'm pretty proud of it tbh

there is a spotify link for the playlist, but i have also linked every song below on youtube if you don’t have spotify! + i’ve included the lyrics from each song that are most relevant to yoongi & MC

anyway!!! ahhhhh chapter one is being posted tomorrow! are we excited??? i know i am! if you listen to this playlist, please let me know what you think! any thoughts/feedback/THEORIES are 100% welcome (:

『 spotify link ★ series masterlist 』

01. price of fame | brent faiyaz

『 all of the things they want / and don't know why they want it (i know, look) / they don't wanna give you time to heal / they just wanna bleed you dry, for real / and if you're comfortable, don't let no one know / they'll fuck it up (i know) 』

02. perhaps vampires is a bit strong but… | arctic monkeys

『 well, i ain't got no dollar signs in my eyes / that might be a surprise but it's true / said, "i'm not like you and i don't want your advice / or your praise or to move in the ways you do and i never will" / 'cause all you people are vampires / and all your stories are stale / and though you pretend to stand by us / i know you're certain we'll fail 』

03. celebrity skin | hole

『 when i wake up in my makeup / have you ever felt so used up as this? / it's all so sugarless, hooker, waitress / model, actress, oh, just go nameless / honeysuckle, she's full of poison / she obliterated everything she kissed / now she's fading somewhere in hollywood / i'm glad i came here with your pound of flesh 』

04. evil twin | arctic monkeys

『 it's more a hunger than a thirst / she'll break your heart the second time / before you know about the first / looks well equipped to leave you in the lurch / but you'd let her do her worst / and it's not hard to tell / it's obvious the other angels' faces fell / when she told him that she had to go / swapped her wings and overcoat for something colorful 』

05. ignorance | paramore

『 if i'm a bad person, you don't like me / well, i guess i'll make my own way / it's a circle, a mean cycle / i can't excite you anymore / where's your gavel? your jury? / what's my offense this time? / you're not a judge, but if you're gonna judge me / oh, sentence me to another life / don't wanna hear your sad songs, i don't wanna feel your pain / when you swear it's all my fault 'cause you know we're not the same 』

06. escapism. | raye ft. 070 shake

『 last night really was the cherry on the cake / been some dark days lately and i'm findin' it cripplin' / excuse my state, i'm as high as your hopes / that you'll make it to my bed, get me hot and sizzlin' / if i take a step back to see the glass half-full / at least it's the prada two-piece that i'm trippin' in / and i'm already actin' like a dick, know what i mean? / so you might as well stick it in 』

07. still take you home | arctic monkeys

『 well, it's ever so funny / 'cause i don't think you're special, i don't think you're cool / you're just probably alright / but under these lights you look beautiful / and i'm struggling, i can't see through your fake tan / yeah, and you know it for a fact that everybody's eating out of your hands / but what do you know? / oh, you know nothing / yeah, but i'll still take you home 』

08. the doll people | sofia isella

『 the doll people are not men / they are made of ass and glass / our skin is clay and painted blue / our head can detach / we are statues with a pulse / we are art you can fuck / the doll people are quiet / what is there to say? / art does not interpret itself / there are men with a day to save / we are paintings with legs / we are art you can fuck 』

09. supervixen | garbage

『 a hit is hard to resist, and i never miss / i can take you out with just a flick of my wrist / make a whole new religion / a fallin' star that you cannot live without / and i'll feed your obsessions / there is nothin' but this thing that you'll never doubt / this thing you'll never doubt 』

10. popular | the weeknd & madonna ft. playboi carti

『 beggin' on her knees to be popular / that's her dream, to be popular / kill anyone to be popular / sell her soul to be popular / just to be popular / everybody scream 'cause she popular / she mainstream 'cause she popular / never be free 'cause she popular 』

11. teddy picker | arctic monkeys

『 and it's the thousandth time that it's even bolder / don't be surprised when you get bent over / they told you, but you were dying for it / she saw it and she grabbed it and it wasn't what it seemed / the kids all dream of making it, whatever that means 』

12. she’s my collar | gorillaz ft. kali uchis

『 she's the serpentine, she's my collar / i send a message, never call her / and now i wanna taste another / and it's safe in a persona, she's my collar / nothing to be justified in / she the first i'm running with / she the one that get my collar / she the one i'm running with 』

13. petals | hole

『 they will make you so / so cynical / the fire burns the flesh / destroys the best that made our souls / she's the grace of this world / she's too pure / for the likes of this world / this world is a whore / tear the petals off of you / and make you tell the truth 』

14. reptilia | the strokes

『 now every time that i look at myself / i thought i told you, this world is not for you / the room is on fire and she's fixing her hair / you sound so angry, just calm down, you found me / i said please don't slow me down if i'm going too fast / you're in a strange part of our town 』

15. the summoning | sleep token

『 oh, and my love / did i mistake you for a sign from god / or are you really here to cast me off? / or maybe just to turn me on / 'cause these days / i would be lying if i told you that / i didn't wish that i could be your man / or maybe make a good girl bad 』

16. guns + ammunition | july talk

『 guns and ammunition / make bullets out of you / you speak dynamic diction / and i see right through that too / when i think about you / my whole world falls through 』

17. false alarm | the weeknd

『 bathroom stalls for the powder nose (she loves) / high heel shoes with the open toes (she loves) / she's got a good time wrapped in gold / for you, for you / all red dress with the devil eyes (she loves) / so obsessed with the camera lights (she loves) / you love her, but you can't deny / the truth, the truth 』

18. image | magdalena bay

『 what's the best you've got? / i forgot all my common sense / i need all the common sense / time to start the clock, from the top / i need confidence / confidence in medicine / but oh, my god / twenty-two more minutes / oh, so hot / meet your brand new image 』

19. when the night is over | lord huron

『 now the trail has gone cold / i don't know where else to go / and my time, i fear, is nearly over / when the ocean drinks the sky / and the city winks its eye / when the night is done, you'll vanish in the sun / will i hold you when the night is over? 』

20. self explained | cherry glazerr

『 i started reeking of the people i was with / i have no secret, i was freaking out a bit / i took a chopper 'cause i grew up with a lot of changes / i am alone a lot, i see this as my weakness / i am embarrassed of my solo, i don't know why / i don't want people to know how much time i spend alone / time i spend alone, time i spend alone, time i spend alone / when i take you on, i try / when i take you on, i try 』

21. bad guy | billie eilish

『 i'm only good at bein' bad, bad / i like when you get mad / i guess i'm pretty glad that you're alone / you said she's scared of me? / i mean, i don't see what she sees / but maybe it's 'cause i'm wearing your cologne 』

22. cinnamon girl | lana del rey

『 there's things i wanna say to you / but i'll just let you live / like if you hold me without hurting me / you'll be the first who ever did / there's things i wanna talk about / but better not to give / but if you hold me without hurting me / you'll be the first who ever did 』

23. fake happy | paramore

『 oh, please, don't ask me how i've been / don't make me play pretend, oh, no / oh, what's the use? / oh, please, i bet everybody here is fake happy too / and if i go out tonight, dress up my fears / you think i look alright with these mascara tears? / see, i'm gonna draw my lipstick wider than my mouth / and if the lights are low, they'll never see me frown 』

24. distressor | cherry glazerr

『 dip it in my makeup / take a place away from the main stage / better than a traitor / push up on the fader / i just wanna drown in my own noise / i just wanna drown in my own noise / beneath time, the only faces i can see / are the faces i pushed away from me / so i can just be 』

25. billions | caroline polachek

『 psycho, priceless / good in a crisis / working the angles / oh, billions / sexting sonnets / under the tables / tangled in cables / oh, billions / salty (ah), flavor (ah) / lies like a sailor / but he loves like a painter 』

✧ TAGLIST: @jajabro @pitchblack0309 @sugar-snap @ot72025 @ktownshizzle

@futuristicenemychaos @tea4sykes @sugainmybowl @namjoonsbuspass @wobblewobble822

[midnight-mourning]

I won’t lie, saw your post about how things are scary rn in the U.S. and… idrk what’s going on. Been avoiding it like the plague bc i’m afraid of the information i’m currently ignorant to. As someone who dwells on “what ifs” it scares me to know what is going on but at the same time i wanna know what’s happening since i live in the U.S too. Just wanted to share this. I feel bad bc of the fact that i been ignoring it, so i do wanna know what’s going on. I just want someone to tell it to me in a way that doesn’t feel like i’m being attacked for avoiding it bc i’m too afraid to learn the information by myself. But there may be some people like me out there.

Hi there, that's absolutely valid, it's been a bit of a mess and some miscommunications have occurred already (as typical always every 4 years here) and wanting to avoid all of it isn't unreasonable. Acknowledging but avoiding a subject is completely different than denial, and that's totally okay, I don't judge. I'll do my best to explain in a way that makes sense and that's hopefully helpful

Before anything else, let me preface this by saying that I am NOT a political scientist, I am NOT an expert in anyway regarding politics in the slightest, anything that I share below is based on my personal experience and research so please keep that in mind, I highly encourage you to check out the sources below for any further information. Having said that, here's what we know:

According to The Associated Press, and other news outlets, the current president elect is Donald Trump with 292 of the electoral college votes, races have not been called in AZ, NV, ME and AK.

Harris is set to give a concession speech at 4 pm EST today.

Republicans have control of the senate with 52 seats, with democrats having lost 3 seats and currently have 43. 5 remaining races have yet to be called. Currently, they are projected to be filled by Democrats by Associated Press and 270 to Win.

The house is currently still a toss up, 270 to Win projects 209 (D) to 213 (R) for 20 of the remaining 33 uncalled races. Again, 13 races are still a toss-up at this point in time.

Sources for more information:

If you would like more information regarding live coverage, as well as general, unbiased reporting, Associated Press is (in my opinion) the most accurate and unbiased source of information.

If you would like to see current projections for the remaining races, Associated Press and 270 to win appear (emphasis on appear) to have the most accurate reporting.

If you want to see live coverage and discussion, or to see how things unfolded last night, CNN did have a broadcast going last night that was free to watch. It appears they've now taken it down. If I happen to find said broadcast I'll update the post with it as they do a good job of explaining things state by state, precint by precint. However, much like any other media outlet, they can be prone to bias (left-leaning) and potentially to fear mongering. Should you seek out CNN or any other news outlet besides those above please keep in mind that reporting may be influenced in certain ways because of this.

Having said all that, here's what I personally think this means and what can still happen, with facts mixed in for reference. Much of this is my opinion and should not be taken as fact unless it's cited. Again, not an expert, just someone with a very very basic understanding of politics and government.

With the win of the presidency and the senate, republicans are at the advantage. With senate control they will be able to assist with choosing the next presidental cabinet, and should there be a vacancy on the supreme court, assist with that.

However, if democrats can take control of the house, the win will be massive, and leave them able to have some say in the next 4 years, but nothing is for certain at this point in time

Democrats potentially have at least a little breathing room in the senate, they're not majority, but only 4 seats difference is better than nothing

We've gotten through a Trump presidency before, the situation then, as well as the feeling everyone has now is exactly the same. We made it through then, and we can make it through again

The senate is only guaranteed to be controlled by Republicans until the 2026 midterms, two years is a long time, but it's only two years

Having lived through the last Trump term in my teens and remember it well, yes he managed to do some pretty awful things, but he also undelivered in several ways, we can only hope the same thing happens this time around, this would be especially true should democrats take the House

He won't be back, if he makes it through the term he'll be too old and his health won't be great. Republicans didn't want him this time, they won't want him the next.

JD Vance and so many others will still be kicking long after he's gone though, and that needs to be in the back of people's heads when we get closer to 2028

Trump made a lot of empty promises he didn't keep before, and personally I don't think he beleves half the things he says, he just says it because he knows others do believe it. Giving up hope now for a better tomorrow won't make a better tomorrow, hoping despite it all will. Giving up also gives people like him exactly what they want, and I'm not about to do that, neither should you.

For now, be vigilant, stay safe, but try to relax. Doom-scrolling, wondering what might happen, and so on, is pointless because at this point, we don't know. Anything could happen, this election is a clear example of that.

Hope this was able to help, anon. We're all in this together, and as long as that remains true, we're going to be okay. Highly recommend after reading this to do what's best for you, be that choosing to find out more through the sources above or continue to avoid it. Personally, I'm getting together with some friends this evening to study, chat, and chill and decompress from it all, hopefully you can do something similar if you need to 💜

[xxplastic-cubexx]

cant stop thinkin bout charles and erik readin together on the couch but instead of reading with him charles is listening to eriks thoughts while he reads. Live mind commentary ……..

[bunnihearted]

regardless of the "learn how to be alone" dravel, being lonely actually is really bad for your mental health and can be very painful :p

[arolesbianism]

Earlier I encountered another fun isat glitch while fighting the king but this time instead of Odile crashing my game she decided to just stop taking damage and tbh that's how it should be all the time. About to take damage? Don't.

[waywardsalt]

damien and linebeck have the minor dynamic of damien being a guy who’s pretty well built and has a healthy bit of fat on him and linebeck having the prestigious title of ‘boniest man on the great sea’

[todayisafridaynight]

To Be Abnormal for a second Every Frame A Painting If Jo Is In It right... an exquisite top pick... his attitude and body language are So Cunty when he's in control of a situation... he's just very fun to watch and the Context that the cap is part such a sequence and what comes before and after elevates it...

Plus the lighting and color grading in the office is very suited to Jo's design with the purple and pink undertones, and the general framing/negative space/value distribution in that particular shot is Just Good; the blinds also make for a nice backdrop and the way he casts this really soft shadow behind him does a lot to make him subtly stand out from the background... ALSO I love the detail of the blinds being Kind Of Fucked Up In Places like he put his hands on them with a little too much force at some point and [being dragged away to be institutionalized]

BUT YEAH NO I DELETED THE POST BUT I DEFINITELY. HAD SOME THOUGHTS. AS YOU CAN SEE.

It's not JUST that it's A Disservice To Mr. Tsutsumi it's that... as I was sort of talking about at the stream with young [i.e. eighties] Jo although I didn't elaborate... this and some other decisions age him so much. Like, when Tsutsumi was actually around that age, he looked like this. A Baby.

And I just think... NOT having that wide-eyed innocence isn't as fitting. It's like buying into Jo's Belief that he's all-grown-up when really he's still got the mentality and coping mechanisms of a child at fifteen and hangs onto a great deal of it well into adulthood... I think it was important to give him a face people'd instantly want to protect to place visual emphasis on the enormity of everything going on in Jo's monologue.

Would also apply to what you were talking about in the MineDai-AraSawa comparison ask, how Arakawa might feel extra-concerned for him because he's younger [I can't say much because my age gap with most of my friends is big anyway, but I frequently see my friends in their mid-twenties or later feel that way with their friends in their early-twenties]

Like it's THERE I just want it to be there visually... in a visual medium... in the ONLY visual medium where de-aging someone with 100% accuracy would be possible... is that so much to ask...

HIS CUNTINESS YEAH that's the way to put it (❁´◡`❁) tbf i color corrected the scene Just A Little since the cap i had was just Weirdly Dark BUT the colors ARE still there.... his suit and overall character does just Pop against how white/grey everything is around him

AND YEAYEA THE FACT HIS BLINDS ARE A LITTLE BENT IN SOME PLACES it's a tiny detail but it's one of my favorite things i noticed- i didnt think it was worth mentioning but im glad you noticed it too (╯▽╰ )

BUT BEHIND THE LORE REASONS™️ TO NERF TTM'S LIPS YEAH lowkey that's how ive forever chosen to interpret jo's flashbacks and why he seems so much older in them (Alongside with arakawa sounding older than he reasonably should at that point BUT ig you can make a case of The Yakuza Aging Someone idk not the main point). i think rgg just knew that if they kept ttm's natural lips i wasn't going to take sawashiro seriously for any longer than five seconds before being wholeheartedly distracted.. (￣人￣)

[white-cat-of-doom]

I posted 2,327 times in 2022

827 posts created (36%)

1,500 posts reblogged (64%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@the-cat-at-the-theatre-door

@munku-collar

@white-cat-of-doom

@sillybub

@cassandra-has-moonlit-eyes

I tagged 2,321 of my posts in 2022

#cats the musical - 2,288 posts

#cats musical - 2,287 posts

#cats us tour 6 - 356 posts

#jellylorum - 262 posts

#victoria - 260 posts

#demeter - 253 posts

#bombalurina - 247 posts

#cats rccl cast 12 - 244 posts

#cats uk tour 2022 - 232 posts

#cats international tour 2022 - 230 posts

Longest Tag: 139 characters

#part of me wants to change my avatar to one of these pieces but i cannot bring myself to take away the 2019 rumple i have had for two years

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

Today is the day! The Il Sistina production of CATS opens tonight (07 December 2022) in Rome!

Below are some more specific character photos, outside of larger group photos.

Jacopo Pelliccia as Gatto Giò (Bustopher Jones, a separate character in this production).

Photos taken by Gianluca Sarago.

Gaia Soprano as Cassandra.

See the full post

133 notes - Posted December 7, 2022

#4

Everyone generally knows what the Rumpus Cat looks like in traditional productions, right? A bit silly, with funky hair and red eyes.

Meanwhile in Japan, the modern Rumpus Cat looks like this:

The hero we never knew we needed.

(Fukuoka 2021, January 2022; Kenshin Mori as Rumpus Cat, Miki Okudaira as Jellylorum, Eiko Kataoka as Rumpleteazer, Yuki Takahashi as Old Deuteronomy, Taijun Kanemoto as Munkustrap, and Yurie Sato as Bombalurina. Almost fully hidden is Haruaki Tamai as Mungojerrie.)

141 notes - Posted February 21, 2022

#3

Rehearsals have started for the production of CATS at Teatro Sistina in Italy, starting 07 December 2022, an officially licensed non-replica from RUG.

The designs are interesting in that they have reference sheets for both the makeup and costume.

See the full post

149 notes - Posted November 9, 2022

#2

The promotional pictures for the UK/International Tour 2022 have been posted!

See the full post

181 notes - Posted May 31, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

I never uploaded these pictures last year, so I figured now would be a fun time to celebrate Pride Month again. Who better than with my favourite cast of Cats in Vienna?

See the full post

192 notes - Posted June 1, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[leatherbookmark]

hopping around different blogs is fun.

a post on blog 1: i find it a little weird that -- don't get me wrong, the barbie movie looks great with all the doll-like details, i bet the actors had great fun and i'd like to see it myself, but -- people are getting excited about marketing of this movie. they're acting as though mattel's 3985* deals with 837* different companies are something new, exciting and creative instead of... 3985 deals with 837 companies spanning many different areas! this movie is a commercial for a doll! isn't this kinda weird?

*numbers made up

a post on blog 2: i don't think any sane adult doesn't realize that this is a toy commercial! it's rather obvious.

a post on blog 3: boo hoo 'the barbie movie is capitalist propaganda' i don't give a SHIT marx won't fuck you. did you do this for transformers too? do you think only stupid girls who like pink need the reminder?

like, oooooh! things are happening!

[toytulini]

I dont know why youve leapt to assuming this post was about the workplace? the original post mentioned friends, family, and going out for drinks, and it feels a bit like a bad faith read to assume this meant for you to try to talk about weird niche TV show interests to your boss, when it seems far more likely to be a post about not letting cringe culture rule your entire life, in a time when its so common for ppl to let themselves become beholden to tiktok microtrends, and being terrified that theyll lose all their friends if anyone finds out they enjoy steven universe.

It’s crazy and fucked up that being yourself is actually the solution.

[fingertipsmp3]

I love having Thursdays off because I can’t get a single goddamn thing done if I tried