#like I was a teenager once I know we read shit we shouldn’t have

[area51-escapee]

YOU hate booktok books because you can’t conceptualize what a fantasy is and think these readers need therapy and professional help for enjoying dark topics in explicit material even though it takes exactly .2 seconds to understand the difference between something that is interesting and exciting in fiction and something that would be deeply unpleasant in real life. I hate booktok books because they all feel like overhyped copy and pastes of one another, the amount of bigotry that goes unchecked in these stories is astounding, and I also get tired of this attitude that if something isn’t 🔥spicy🔥 it’s boring and not worth reading. We are not the same.

[b0nten]

BLUEBELLS, YOURS TRULY.

[SYNOPSIS] ˚⁀➷｡ albeit rarely, rindou overthinks, and frequently, ran doesn’t think too much.

[NOTES] ˚⁀➷｡ this is like the “backstory” for the ring. MAYBE i’ll turn it into a multiple part. i also put it in the timeline where everyone is happy because i really love everyone being friends. wrote it because rays’s version destroyed me !!!!!!!!!!!

he spins the ring on his finger. he slides it off. he looks at it. he lets it hang from his neck, on the chain. he sighs.

“now what the hell is up with you?” barging in, ran asks. “who shat in your cereal every morning for the past two weeks?” he says, opening the kitchen cupboard to take — funny enough — some cereal out.

“i’m not in the mood, ran.” his younger brother spits back, head falling against the wooden table.

“hey now, there’s something really wrong with you if you��re acting like .. this.” pointing at him, he sits down, fat bowl of cereal clashing against the dark block, spilling some milk onto it. “now, spill.” with mouth full, he tries to choke out the words, spoon in his brothers face the moment he gulps down the first mouthful.

“you’re gross sometimes.” rindou just sighs, looking away.

“what’s with the ring?” ignoring the insult, the lanky haitani just continues his questioning. “by the way, the blue doesn’t look that bad on you.”

“it’s mine, and i got a matching one for y/n.” the other explains, “thanks, by the way. it was her idea to dye it like this.”

“you wanna propose to her?” his older brother asks, chewing loudly. “y’know we’re still just teenagers?”

“no shit, big head.” rolling his eyes, rindou feels the exasperation dig its roots deeper into his brain. “i’m not proposing. yet. but i don’t know if i should give it to her.” he finally says, letting ran in on his worries.

“and why not? what’s that? cartier, right?”

“no brand can escape your gaze, you’re really unbelievable.”

“thanks, bro, love you too.” as he swallows his last spoonful, ran winks.

“not in a good way.” the younger sibling announces, earning a displeased look from his brother.

“now you’re the annoying one. fuck’s going with you two?” ran finally snaps, trying not look worried. after all, he loves his brother, but they don’t do that kind of talking.

“she’s leaving next week” rindou finally manages to choke out.

“what? what do you mean?” his brother asks, taken aback by the sudden information.

“her student visa’s expired. she’s gotta go back home until gets it renewed.”

it pains him to even think about it. he hasn’t eaten in almost fourteen days, ever since he found out. but what pains him even more is how excited you are about going back home. about going away from him.

he thinks it’s selfish, because he knows how much you’ve missed your parents and how much you’ve waited for a holiday that’s long enough to return.

“if the flights take four days in total and i want to stay for two weeks, then i’d rather not go anymore.” you always said. “i want to spend as much time as possible, without having to rush anything, y’know?

but maybe sometimes love is all about being selfish, loving someone with your whole heart. maybe he wants to never let you leave without him. maybe he can’t let you leave without him because he can’t stand not being an 8 minute subway ride away from you.

“don’t tell me you got some of those control issues, the pretty tiktok girls say they’re not cute at all…” ran comments, dodging an uppercut by a mere second.

“can you take me seriously for once? i think she wants to break up with me, she called me over today saying we have to talk.” rin frowns, blond-blue bangs covering his tired eyes. “i shouldn’t have believed that tiktok reading that said good news are coming my way.”

“you’re so fucking dumb, lord have mercy.”

“excuse me, ran?”

“you’re excused. let’s get this straight: does it really matter to you wether she’s oceans away or in meguro? what do you think she’s gonna do, break up with you only to return in three months and see you everywhere? do you really think y/n’s that kind of girlfriend? throw away three years BECAUSE OF A VISA?! fuck outta here with that insecure crap, rin. i raised you better than that.”

on the inside, ran smiles. oh, how he loves knocking sense into his younger brother. truly the best activity.

“now go and talk to her.”

rindou hesitates.

“i won’t say it nicely the second time around.” the older one threatens, and rindou jolts up from his chair and bolts through the door, house slippers still on, door wide open. before ran can say anything else, rindou’s voice echoes from the staircase into the kitchen:

“i’ll buy a new pair when i get back, don’t start bitching, please! i’ve got a girl i have to convince not to break up with me!”

his older brother laughs as he pulls out his phone.

sister in law

(16:22) he’s on his way.

then, a ping fills the empty space.

sister in law

(16:23) already talked to mikey. everything’s going great.

(16:23) love you, big head

(16:23)🫰

maybe ran’s not gonna tell you the reason rindou is running like a maniac through minato ward right now.

ugh, is his head really that big?

tagging: @h4nman BECAUSE YOU MADE ME CRY😡😡😡 ; @sirachano0dles <3 i might start a taglist if i make this into a multiple part fic?!?

[starlightnorris]

unanswered questions - charles leclerc

synopsis: the one where you run into your first love and there's a ton of unanswered question and a whole lot of feelings there.

word count: 1k

read part two

they say you never truly get over your first love. you believed them for a while, the first year or so after charles broke up with you, you were a mess. everything reminded you of him, from the places you used to go together, to the simplicity of seeing a car on the street. and it shouldn’t have hurt so bad, you were just teenagers, young love is always bound to crash and burn, but that first year was brutal.

but eventually you got over it. you moved to new york city to go to university, at some point meeting the person you wanted to spend your life with. it was funny, just how quickly your perception of everything changed. one day, it was you and charles together, only teenagers, but making small comments about the future. and you had believed that the two of you would end up together, but people change, plans change, and eventually, you move on.

there wasn’t a moment that you could identify that “ruined” your relationship with charles. it was just two people moving on from something that was once so real. it was weird to think about it now, you were 25 and that was nearly a decade ago. but there was always that nagging thought in the back of your mind that kept saying that if it could happen with charles, it could happen with justin. there didn’t have to be a big moment, one day he would just come to you and say that he didn’t feel the same anymore.

justin was lovely. talking about the future with him genuinely made you excited, but there was still a part of you that wondered what charles was like now. sure, you saw him on tv, and you still kept up with races, something your boyfriend took notice in. but he just thought you loved formula one, he didn’t know about the Ferrari driver who had once held your heart in his hands. but you didn’t know the charles of today. he seemed different, but he also seemed like the same boy you were in love with all those years ago. but that didn’t matter now, you’d moved on, even if your heart still yearned to know him.

---

“i think we should go out tonight,” justin says one day. it’s a friday, the two of you are already off work, both having left earlier than normal. “there’s a new restaurant i’ve been wanting to try.”

“yeah, that would be great,” you say, a soft smile on your face as he walks over to press a kiss to your forehead before the two of you start to get ready for the night.

you’re walking hand in hand down the street, a slight breeze in the air as you take in the area around you. moving from monaco to new york city was a big difference for you, being a place that was so small to a city that was constantly filled with so many people. but you loved it here, you loved to anonymity of being in the big city. monte carlo was too small, and when you were dating charles, people took notice of the two of you as it was becoming more clear that he was fully on his way to formula one.

but you didn’t want to think about that today. you were here with justin and as if he could hear your thoughts, he looks down at you, a soft smile playing on his lips as he looks at you. you could get lost in that smile and the way his gaze is so soft as he looks at you, so much love and adoration in the look. and it only takes you running into someone to take your eyes away from him.  

justin makes sure to steady you and you mutter a “shit, i’m so sorry,” before looking up to see who you ran into. and you know that moment in the romance movies where two people look at each other and everything around them stops.

that’s exactly what happened when you saw charles in front of you. everything around you seemed to stop. you were in new york city, a place that was constantly busy and alive, and all you could do was stare at the man in front of you. you’d imagined what he’d look like if you saw him up close again, were there any marks on his skin that you couldn’t see through a screen? were his eyes soft in the same way that they were when you were teenagers?

“holy shit, you’re charles leclerc,” you hear justin say from beside you, but your eyes still rest on charles, and you can tell from the look on his face that he knows exactly who you are. it takes him a moment to tear his eyes from you before they move to your boyfriend and then down to where the two of you are holding hands and you catch a flicker of something… regret, maybe? but no, he broke up with you. he had full control in that situation, he doesn’t deserve to have any regrets.

“uh, yeah,” charles mutters, his eyes snapping back up to your boyfriend. “yeah, i am.”

they chat for a moment, but you don’t hear a single word, especially when his eyes keep moving to where you are standing, a lifetime of questions swirling in his eyes. “it was nice to meet you both,” charles says after a bit, and his eyes linger on you for a moment too long, and you want him to say something. you want to take the time to talk about almost a decade of distance between you, but he gives you a small smile, continuing to walk in the direction that he was heading.

“that was so cool,” justin says, a starstruck look on his face as he looks back at you. “i can’t believe we just ran into him.”

“yeah,” you say, but your heart’s not in it. instead, you’re thinking about years of unanswered questions with charles. you’re thinking about all the things you never got to say, and you’re thinking about why the hell your heart is beating so fast for a man you don’t even really know.  

[hollowed-theory-hall]

so in your fic there's Sirius/Barty Jr ship. i reread your analytics of their character and pretty understand the connection. but i would still like to read opinion about their ship 👀

Glad you enjoy my various writing!

Yeah, okay, so Sirius/Barty Jr is a little rare pair my beta reader and I came up with for a different fic that never really got written, but we liked it so much it made it into my current fic, A Matter of Chance.

I'll note that it's gonna take quite some time in A Matter of Chance until Sirius and Barty actually meet and even longer until they get together in any meaningful way (but also my writing plans are super vague, so I don't really know). So there's some waiting until that tag is gonna be relevant. That being said, why I ship them and my thoughts on the ship:

So, I wrote a bunch about Sirius, and a bit less about Barty, but they have, like, a lot in common:

They're both incredibly loyal.

They both suffered Azkaban.

The way Sirius described Barty's father always struck me as him being familiar with the situation: "should've spent more time at home" and might've been showing the bitterness towards Orion.

They both have reason to hate Crouch Sr for sending them to the dementors.

They both care about Harry (pretty shocking on Barty's part, but it truly seems like he does) and are as involved as they can be.

both of them are hands-on in their approach, of, well, literally anything.

I feel Sirius and Barty would get each other's sense of humor that's a bit on the crueler side too. They won't make the other feel guilty over stupid shit.

They also communicate in a similarly straightforward way. They say what they think pretty damn clearly when they're free to do so.

So, as you can see, they have a surprising amount of things in common. As for Barty being a Death Eater, well, I illustrated in my posts about him that I don't think he was that much of a loyal Death Eater and I don't think he tortured the Longbottoms (it's outright stated in the books he wasn't caught with the Lestranges, but with a different group of Death Eaters that walked free!). I think Barty was a Death Eater more as a teenage rebellion than truly believing in everything (though he likely isn't a fan of Muggles). Like, the way Sirius went all in on Dumbledore and the Order as rebellion, Barty did in the opposite direction.

I don't think Barty really killed and tortured many people, but unlike Draco or Regulus I think he could if he felt he needed to, he isn't as sadistic as Bellatrix (or Sirius, honestly). He's tamer but still colder and more willing to respond with violence than Draco or Lucius.

The main quote I'm basing this ship on is the entire conversation in which Sirius talks about Barty in GoF:

Sirius smiled grimly. “Crouch’s own son was caught with a group of Death Eaters who’d managed to talk their way out of Azkaban. Apparently they were trying to find Voldemort and return him to power.” “Crouch’s son was caught?” gasped Hermione. “Yep,” said Sirius, throwing his chicken bone to Buckbeak, flinging himself back down on the ground beside the loaf of bread, and tearing it in half. “Nasty little shock for old Barty, I’d imagine. Should have spent a bit more time at home with his family, shouldn’t he? Ought to have left the office early once in a while . . . gotten to know his own son.” He began to wolf down large pieces of bread. “Was his son a Death Eater?” said Harry. “No idea,” said Sirius, still stuffing down bread. “I was in Azkaban myself when he was brought in. This is mostly stuff I’ve found out since I got out. The boy was definitely caught in the company of people I’d bet my life were Death Eaters — but he might have been in the wrong place at the wrong time, just like the house-elf.” “Did Crouch try and get his son off?” Hermione whispered. Sirius let out a laugh that was much more like a bark. [...] Crouch’s fatherly affection stretched just far enough to give his son a trial, and by all accounts, it wasn’t much more than an excuse for Crouch to show how much he hated the boy . . . then he sent him straight to Azkaban.” “He gave his own son to the dementors?” asked Harry quietly. “That’s right,” said Sirius, and he didn’t look remotely amused now. “I saw the dementors bringing him in, watched them through the bars in my cell door. He can’t have been more than nineteen. They took him into a cell near mine. He was screaming for his mother by nightfall. He went quiet after a few days, though . . . they all went quiet in the end . . . except when they shrieked in their sleep. . . .” For a moment, the deadened look in Sirius’s eyes became more pronounced than ever, as though shutters had closed behind them. “So he’s still in Azkaban?” Harry said. “No,” said Sirius dully. “No, he’s not in there anymore. He died about a year after they brought him in.” “He died?” “He wasn’t the only one,” said Sirius bitterly. “Most go mad in there, and plenty stop eating in the end. They lose the will to live. You could always tell when a death was coming, because the dementors could sense it, they got excited. That boy looked pretty sickly when he arrived. [...] Wasted away just like the boy. Crouch never came for his son’s body. The dementors buried him outside the fortress; I watched them do it.”

Sirius talks about Crouch Sr and Barty's relationship. He knows a surprising lot about Barty's backstory and childhood for someone who didn't even know for sure if he was a Death Eater and only found these things out after he escaped. Like, where did he learn all this from (sure, he likely read old newspapers, but how much of this information is actually likely to be there?). He also talks about both Bartys with a certain familiarity "ol' Barty". He's dull and bitter over Barty's death, he watched the only "funeral" Barty got, probably the only "attendant" besides the dementors. And he talks about hearing Barty screaming until he died in Azkaban... Yeah, I like that angst, I'm so here for an Azkaban romance (and post-Azkaban romance).

And, like, Barty was in Regulus' year, they probably joined the Death Eaters around the same time, maybe even together. And Sirius probably didn't talk to Barty at all his own when they were in school, he had no reason to, but he knew his little brother hung out with him occasionally. And from the quote above it's clear Sirius felt sorry for him, felt sympathy for someone else he thought might've been innocent. Someone in the same situation as he is that he might've felt protective over, like he could succeded in saving Regulus this time. And Barty has no one, basically, no friends, no family, just haunting memories, a situation Sirius is so familiar with. And Sirius is like a sorta friend, he's basically Regulus if you squint (not at all but at first), they share an experience (and hatred for Crouch Sr) that could feel so isolating when speaking to someone who doesn't know. He's someone Barty could potentially trust since neither of them trusts the ministry, or Voldemort, or Dumbledore. They can be in their own little corner where they have no one (well, Harry is there, but no other adults. Remus has way more faith in Dumbledore than Sirius does)

So, imagine this: Sirius lost everyone, he lost James, he lost his brother, he and Barty are in the same boat. So, like, imagine them talking quietly through the bars, each treating the other as a Regulus stand-in even if their personalities are more similar to each other than to Regulus. This grows into somewhat getting to know each other, something that's almost friendship. A cold comfort in the coldness of Azkaban. Then, Barty seemingly stops talking to Sirius and dies soon after, and Sirius doesn't know what to make of it. After Barry dies, he starts staying in Padfoot form more and more.

And then, post-Azkaban, they gonna meet again and bond over escaping Azkaban and caring about Harry.

There'll be healing. There'll be bad coping mechanisms. There'll be a desperation for any familiar connection and a lot of dark humor. They're on the run from both Voldemort and the ministry. And, like, if anyone thinks Sirius Orion Black won't be willing to help get away from Crouch Sr's body, they don't know Sirius Black.

Like, I think they'd just get each other, but also keep making incorrect assumptions about each other at the same time all the while being desperate for what the other represents — people they lost, time they lost. I think it's a fun concept with angst potential.

They're also both incredibly intelligent and skilled wizards (Barty tricked the Goblet of Fire, which is no easy feat). I think they could see each other, eventually after they get over the initial mess of shared losses, as equals and partners in crime. They just have such a vibe, idk. Like, I imagine them pseudo-parenting Harry together, and all I can come up with would be hilarious, but also, like, surprisingly good for Harry. Harry needs more people in his life who would appreciate him for him, more people that'll raise his ridiculously low self-esteem.

Do you know who's the first character to tell Harry he has talents? Barty Jr.

“Well, I’m not going to tell you,” said Moody gruffly. “I don’t show favoritism, me. I’m just going to give you some good, general advice. And the first bit is — play to your strengths.” “I haven’t got any,” said Harry, before he could stop himself. “Excuse me,” growled Moody, “you’ve got strengths if I say you’ve got them. Think now. What are you best at?”

(GoF, 344)

Basically, I think they'd be messed up, but also make it work under their specific circumstances.

(Can you tell I love trauma bonding ships?)

[piratefishmama]

For One Night Only | Part 2

Eddie remembered a lot about Steve Harrington, so to get this fresh new perspective on him… it was wild. He remembered a jock, the king of Hawkins High, the king of Hawkins in general, women wanted him, men wanted to be him, or in some cases men also wanted him. Rich, popular, kind of a jackass at times but never mean enough to warrant dislike. Would have never associated with Eddie’s kind, but yet there he was, comfortable on Eddie’s hotel bed, one long leg crossed over the other as they moved on from pleasantries to business.

Steve wasn’t there as a social call, no matter how fun it might have been to catch up. He had a job to do, and Steve was good at his job.

“Alright, considering our history, or what little of it we have, it might be a good idea to use it if asked on the carpet how we met, I can spin a story about us being secret high school sweethearts who recently reconnected as friends if you want, really big you up to the paps.”

“As lovely as that idea is since high school me would have been thrilled to have been your secret sweetheart” Steve grinned “shut up, I was a nerd with a crush leave me alone” the snigger that followed only made Eddie smile, it wasn’t a hurtful laugh, and Steve’s smile was just to radiant to be mad at. “I said shut up!”

“Shutting up” the smile stayed though as he mimed zipping his lips. Adorable bastard.

“Anyway, as lovely as that idea is, too many people knew us in high school, if the press got word that it was a lie from one of our mutual past acquaintances, eh it’s a hornets nest I don’t wanna poke. Too many what ifs, but we could say that we went to school together, it’s true, we could say that we reconnected recently and… y’know, hit it off…”

“We are hitting it off.” Steve mused, tapping his finger to his chin in thought. “I like it, easy, close to the truth, very little room for mistakes. So I’m to be your date, not just a friend joining you for the evening?” That was what the invite had requested but… Steve was clearly amusing himself by making Eddie squirm a little.

“Mmmhm, yep. Steve Harrington, my date, Can time travel just exist already?”

“Haha, why?”

“Teenage me could do with a visit right this second to tell him Steve Harrington is gonna be our date someday.”

Steve covered his mouth as he laughed so sweetly, the picture of perfection as always. His nose scrunching just a little as he laughed. “Were you always this cute, Eddie?”

“Mmhm, once upon a time, I was even cuter, I swear.”

“I’ll believe you.”

“You shouldn’t.”

“I know, thousands wouldn’t, but I’ve always been a sucker for cute brunettes with big ol Bambi eyes, can't help but believe everything they say.” Eddie hadn’t felt his cheeks warm in years and yet there he was, hiding behind his hair, his complexion turning as red as a fire hydrant, stupid pale skin.

Speaking of brunettes, and incredibly convenient subject changes for the safety of his own composure. “Wait, YOU’RE who Nancy knows!”

“You know Nance?”

“She’s our manager now, man, gets us all the best shit! I met her in a bar after she totally blew off the journalism thing, something about sexist work environments and bosses who wouldn’t know a real story if it slapped them directly in the face. They kept giving her fluff pieces.” Nancy Wheeler, a fluff writer, the audacity of anyone who ever made that assumption. “Now she’s the most badass manager in metal history. I swear to god she’s made many a producer pale in fear at the very mention of her name.” She read all the fine print, with a goddamn magnifying glass. She’d made a grown men cry multiple times, it was badass. “She’s the coolest.”

Steve’s smile was so fond Eddie could have swooned just having it aimed at him, even if the fondness wasn’t for him, it was beautiful enough for it to be swooned over anyway. “She is, cool. I’m glad she found her people.” Even if they no doubt made a funny looking group, little not so primp and proper Nancy Wheeler among a bunch of metalheads. It fitted, in a strange kind of way, she’d always wrangled Mike easy enough.

“How did you uhm… y’know… it’s probably none of my business and I keep changing subjects so stop me if I keep jumping around I’m still a little flabbergast from seeing you at my door but uh… how’d you—y’know… what’s this uh… the whole thing like?” Steve tilted his head like a confused puppy and Eddie just kind of wanted to melt into the floor. “The escort thing.” He added on, for clarification.

“Oh, uhm. Chrissy? Chrissy Cunningham, cheer captain of ’86?”

“I know her, she and Gareth have this—”

“Thing! Yes, she talks about him regularly with Robin.” Robin? He doesn’t think to ask, Steve and Robin, Robin… who would be associated with Steve a Robin whom Steve would just mention as if expecting him to know. He only knew one Robin from those days, and he didn’t even really know her.

Just kind of… existed near her in band for a few months until his style of music pissed the teacher off enough to kick him out. Couldn’t be that Robin, right? Not important.

“Oh my god don’t tell me that and expect me to keep it a secret that’s brutal of you.”

“God, tell him, please, I didn't even know who he was but she keeps talking about him and waiting for him to ask her out. Eventually she’s just going to pin him against something and kiss him so—”

“Tell her to do that but god wait until I have a camera please!” Eddie Munson was not against begging, his grin wide and eyes shimmering with gleeful mischief. “It’s reciprocated, totally and completely one hundred percent reciprocated, he is so gone on that girl, it’s adorable.”

“I will let her know, at least now I know he's one of yours and a good guy." Gareth was the best guy in Eddie's opinion, like a brother to him, not that the others werent too, but... Gareth had known he was gay since Hawkins High. Just him and Uncle Wayne in the know, and he'd always been there to support him, Gareth was good. "Anyway… we ran into each other in this café that I’d gotten a part time gig at in Indy, she looked good, healthy…” he didn’t need to say that Chrissy had had a problem. But she had, and that problem began with ‘M’ and ended with ‘other,’ hers to be specific. “She was already doing it, loving it, I was dubious, asked if she was okay, if she needed help, but no she was loving it, thriving actually, and well… I like making people feel good, both emotionally and physically” oof that was a tone that went straight to a place it shouldn’t do “why do it for free, y’know? She got me set up and the rest is history.” He enjoyed himself.

He loved his job, his love language had always been acts of service, he liked making people feel good, liked making them feel wanted, feel loved, feel seen and heard. Eddie couldn’t help himself “ever do anything… y’know…?” He really wished he could help himself sometimes.

“Sex related?” The red in his cheeks only deepened, Steve didn’t seem offended, or upset, in fact his smile only warmed, eyes crinkling at the corners, gods above and below he was beautiful, how did anyone survive after a night with him, having to let him go? “Sure, like I said, if I’m good at something, why do it for free?”

“Even with…” Eddie motioned to himself

“You?”

“N-No! No, Men—wait sorry—that’s—that’s none of my business” he turned away to move, to pace, so much energy in his body suddenly there with nowhere to go “none of this is any of my business, I don’t usually ask these kinds of—I mean it’s really wrong of me to even ask this sort of—" Steve was just there so fast, hands on Eddie’s biceps, holding him in place, Eddie hoped he couldn’t feel him almost vibrating out of his skin.

“It’s okay, Bambi” Eddie’s eyes snapped up to meet Steve’s, his wide and unblinking, like a deer in headlights in the face of Steve’s so warm and understanding, Bambi really did suit him, Steve thought, his left hand lifting to rest on Eddie’s cheek as if to ground him, it worked. God it worked. “Ask all the questions you like, but maybe save some for later, we don’t have long before we have to go.”

“…Later you’ll be leaving though...” he didn’t want Steve to leave. He didn’t want his next time seeing Steve to be part of a lottery, would he come next time? Would someone else who Eddie didn’t recognise appear in his place?

“We’re hitting it off, remember? I’m sure there’s going to be an afterparty we can both be caught sneaking away from to hang out, right?” Eddie kind of felt like he was flying. He felt like a teenager again, a nerdy, virginial teenager. He refused to acknowledge that little goblin voice telling him that Steve was actually probably just doing his goddamn job, he was on the clock dammit. He just wanted to have this. “You can ask me questions then, I promise I’ll stay.” He didn’t have anywhere else he needed to be.

“…Yeah… if that’s okay with you.”

“More than. Now how about you introduce me to the rest of Corroded Coffin, we all need to be on the same page before we get there.” Work now, catch up later. “Sooner we get this over with, the sooner we can ditch the after party to hang out.” Eddie giggled, an honest to gods little giggle. He really did feel like a teenager again, only Steve was looking at him. Holding him. Grounding him. Steve Harrington was seeing him.

Teenager Eddie would have shit a brick.

“Alright, I’m warning you though, I think you let Tommy H. stuff Jeff into a locker once so don’t expect a warm welcome.” Steve grimaced a little but nodded. He was a different person now, but that wouldn’t erase the mistakes he’d made as a stupid teenager. Plenty of bridges to rebuild and apologies to give. Jeff wouldn’t be the first or the last.

“Bring it on, Bambi.” Eddie could only hide behind his hair again, bashful and flustered.

Part 4

[goodnightmemes]

EVIL DEAD (2013) SENTENCE STARTERS

trigger warning for violence, foul language, and horror. feel free to change pronouns / terms / tense as needed!

❛ Only the evil book can undo what the evil book has done. ❜

❛ Please. I just want to go home. ❜

❛ [name]'s dead. You know that. You killed her. ❜

❛ No, why are you saying these things? ❜

❛ I'll rip your soul out, you pathetic fuck! ❜

❛ I will kill you like I killed your whore! ❜

❛ You were supposed to be here two hours ago. ❜

❛ I'll be damned. You actually came. ❜

❛ I know I look like road kill. ❜

❛ You're a charming liar, as always. ❜

❛ We always loved this place, didn't we? ❜

❛ I thought you didn't believe in that kind of stuff. ❜

❛ Promise me you'll stay with me until the end. ❜

❛ Looks like someone broke in. ❜

❛ Some teenagers probably just broke in here to drink beer and bump uglies. ❜

❛ Let's make this place livable. ❜

❛ I don't think you need sad memories in your head right now. ❜

❛ I wanted to be there. Okay? I did. ❜

❛ This time the only way is the hard way. ❜

❛ Look, we all need to be together on this. Otherwise it won't work. ❜

❛ I came here to make things better with my sister, not worse. ❜

❛ I can't stand that fucking smell anymore. ❜

❛ Withdrawal's kicking in hard. ❜

❛ Oh, is that blood? ❜

❛ Careful. These steps are old and rotten. ❜

❛ What the fuck happened here? ❜

❛ No, no, no. Voodoo is more about dolls and personal artifacts. This is something different. ❜

❛ You shouldn't have touched anything from that basement. ❜

❛ I'm going insane here. I feel like I'm losing my mind. ❜

❛ We can't lose you again. ❜

❛ Oh, my God. I'm such an idiot. To think for once in my life, I could count on you. ❜

❛ She's talking about a woman in the woods. How the forest attacked her. ❜

❛ Well, don't you think we should take her to a hospital? ❜

❛ I feel like we're in over our heads here. ❜

❛ If we leave now, all of this mess will have been for nothing. ❜

❛ Please. You have to get me out of here. ❜

❛ There was something in the woods. And I think it's in here with us now. ❜

❛ Look, you know it's all in your head. Just try to get it together. ❜

❛ Please, would you just get rid of that thing? ❜

❛ Open the fucking door! ❜

❛ Well, nobody could have known she would do something so twisted! ❜

❛ No, you should have known! We've all been following your lead since we got here. ❜

❛ We should have left when [name] wanted to. ❜

❛ Everything's gonna be fine. ❜

❛ I don't know if you've noticed this, but nothing has been fine. And everything's been getting worse every second. ❜

❛ Put the gun down, please. Put the fucking gun down! ❜

❛ One by one, we will take you! ❜

❛ You are all going to die tonight. ❜

❛ This is impossible. I just gave her enough sedative to put a horse to sleep. ❜

❛ I gotta get the shrapnel out of my arm. ❜

❛ I don't think a tranquilizer's gonna do shit. 'Cause I don't think we're dealing with a freaking panic attack here! ❜

❛ I'm scared that what's happening to [name] has something to do with the fucking witchcraft in the basement! ❜

❛ Oh, my God! Why the fuck did you do that? ❜

❛ I did something terrible. ❜

❛ That thing I killed was not [name]. ❜

❛ I read a passage from that book. It was... It was some sort of prayer. I released something. I released something evil. ❜

❛ Why did you lock me down here? ❜

❛ You got violent and we didn't know what else to do. ❜

❛ Look, something really terrible has happened and we have to get out of here now. Okay? ❜

❛ He's not gonna let you leave! And he's not gonna stop till he has you. Until he has all of you! ❜

❛ I can smell your filthy soul. ❜

❛ [name]'s not here, you fucking idiot! ❜

❛ I don't know why, but I thought this would end it. ❜

❛ There's some translations, but...just scattered notes. They all refer to some... evil entity. A taker of souls. A demon. ❜

❛ This thing is attached to [name]'s soul like a leech. It's becoming her. ❜

❛ If we want to stop this, if we want to help [name]...I think we're gonna have to kill her. ❜

❛ We're not gonna fucking kill anybody! Are you listening to yourself? ❜

❛ It doesn't matter where we go. If we don't do something right now, we're all gonna be dead by then! ❜

❛ We're gonna get you ❜

❛ I had to do it. And I feel much better now. ❜

❛ These inscriptions are confusing, sometimes contradictory, but they're consistent about one thing. In order to stop this, the possessed must be cleansed. Purified. ❜

❛ Am I sure? Of course not. This is not a science book! ❜

❛ If she dies, then this thing is gonna die with her. ❜

❛ You're just a fucking coward. You know exactly what we have to do, but you're too scared to go through with it. ❜

❛ I'm gonna burn this fucking place down. And I'm gonna end this nightmare. ❜

❛ Why don't you just run away? Go hide beneath some rock somewhere. You know you're great at that. ❜

❛ Why are you hurting me? ❜

❛ Don't die on me, please! ❜

❛ Dying wouldn't be so bad right now. I just don't want to become the devil's bitch. ❜

❛ I'm gonna do what I gotta do. Okay? ❜

❛ Why do you hate me? I know you do. ❜

❛ You're gonna burn in hell for trying to kill me, you motherfucker! ❜

❛ I'm so sorry. I should have been there. I should've been there for you. ❜

❛ I've had enough of this shit. ❜

❛ I will feast on your soul. ❜

❛ Feast on this, motherfucker! ❜

[crimsonwolf715]

False Lead

(TW: Dazai cuts skin that's been infected by a poison off of Kunikida and himself. While it's not graphic, I want you guys to stay safe. Poison. Mentions of self-harm. It's Dazai from when he was a teenager, but it's just briefly mentioned.)

DAZAI AND CHUUYA, AGE 16

“You are absolute shit at that,” Chuuya says. “Give it to me.” 

Dazai sticks his tongue out and keeps gathering the things to stitch himself up. 

“Okay, fine. Don’t come crying to me when you screw it up.” Chuuya kicks his feet up and leans back. 

“You’re a dick,” Dazai says. 

“Yeah, I am,” Chuuya replies, turning his head back towards Dazai. “You gonna hand the stuff over?” 

Dazai offers the first aid kit to Chuuya and he takes it. 

“Maybe I should teach you this so you don’t come back from missions with those ugly-ass stitches you normally come back with.” 

“I don’t go on that many missions without you anymore.” 

“I know, but it’s stupid that you can’t do this with how much you hurt yourself. Or others hurt you, but that’s usually your fault as well.” 

“I don’t know what you mean.” 

“Taunting someone who could kill you with their hands tied behind their back is stupid, Shitty Dazai.” 

“Yeah, like Chibi could do better,” Dazai shoots back at him. 

Chuuya grabs Dazai’s arm and starts stitching him up. Chuuya talks Dazai through properly stitching himself up. Dazai flinches once or twice, but otherwise he doesn’t react. 

PRESENT TIME

“Kunikida, the president wants to speak to you,” Tanizaki says when Kunikida comes in. 

“Alright, thank you,” Kunikida replies, then heads to the President’s office. 

“Hello, Kunikida,” Fukuzawa says when Kunikida opens the door and walks in. 

“Mr. President, what can I do for you?” 

“I have a case for you and Dazai.” 

Fukuzawa hands Kunikida a file and Kunikida glances over the first page. 

“I’d like you to deal with this as cleanly as you can. The police have started complaining that we always leave a mess for them to clean up. Not that I agree with them, but just to be safe.” 

“I’ll make sure that Dazai behaves, sir.” 

“Thank you, you’re dismissed. Can you send Ranpo in here on your way out?” 

“Yes, sir.” 

Kunikida walks out of the President’s office. “Ranpo, he wants to see you.” 

“Oh, nice,” Ranpo says, then gets up and heads into the office. 

Kunikida finishes reading the file as he gets to his desk. He looks up and Dazai’s sitting at his desk. 

“You’re on time,” Kunikida says. 

“I’m only late fifty percent of the time,” Dazai replies. 

“That can’t be true, but we have a case. There are ability users tormenting villages outside of town. We have an idea of where the base is, so we’re going to check it out and deal with it if they’re there.” 

“Alrighty. Guess I’m not spending the morning on this paperwork.” 

They head out to the car and then start driving to the warehouse. The drive to the warehouse is quiet, Dazai seeming lost in his own thoughts and Kunikida not feeling up to a conversation with Dazai. They park and there’s no sign of anybody. 

“Maybe they’re out feeding ducks,” Dazai says. 

Kunikida slaps him upside his head, then they walk into the warehouse and it’s eerily silent. 

“Creepy,” Dazai mutters. 

Kunikida ignores the comment and keeps walking. 

“Nobody seems to be here,” Kunikida says. 

“Mhm.” 

As they get further into the warehouse, there are symbols and words painted on the walls. Most of them Kunikida doesn’t recognize or can’t understand. There are a couple he does know. Slurs for ability users and anti-ability symbols are painted in random places. Kunikida turns in just enough time to see Dazai flipping off one of the slurs painted on the wall. 

“If it’s a group of ability users, shouldn’t they not like these no-no terms?” Dazai asks. 

Kunikida nods. “I have a bad feeling about this place.” 

“Great. Since nobody’s here, can we leave? The police can do a thorough check seeing if there are any important documents or something.” 

Kunikida stops in front of the large, middle area of the warehouse. The entire room is painted in clowns and warning signs. 

“What the hell is that?” Kunikida hears a click sound. “Did you…?” 

Dazai doesn’t even let Kunikida finish the question before grabbing his arm and running back towards the exit. Kunikida runs with Dazai. 

“What is happening?” Kunikida asks. 

Before Dazai can answer, a knife shoots out of the wall and cuts Kunikida’s side. 

“Damn,” Dazai hisses. 

Dazai pushes Kunikida away from him and a knife flies past where Kunikida just was. Another knife knicks Kunikida’s arm. Kunikida turns to check on Dazai and he can see fire at the end of the hallway. Dazai grabs Kunikida and drags him out of the building. Kunikida falls and Dazai kneels down next to him. 

“Don’t fight me right now,” Dazai says. 

“I won’t.” 

Dazai checks Kunikida’s injuries, then sighs. He pulls a knife out of his pocket. 

“You’re feeling pretty numb, right?” 

Kunikida nods. 

“Hold still then. This is still gonna hurt,” Dazai says. 

Kunikida opens his mouth to respond and Dazai puts Kunikida’s belt in his mouth.

“Bite down on that and try not to squirm.” 

Kunikida bites down on the belt and Dazai cuts the skin around Kunikida’s injuries off. Kunikida bites down harder on the belt. Dazai skillfully cuts all of the infected skin away. 

“I’m sorry, Kunikida,” Dazai says. 

Kunikida feels the darkness taking over his vision and Dazai taps his face. Kunikida turns his head. 

“I need you to stay awake. I can’t risk you dying on me after I just had to do that. Hopefully the drugs will kick in soon.” 

“Drugs?” Kunikida chokes out. 

“Yeah, I gave you some after I got you out of the house. You didn’t notice?” 

Kunikida shakes his head. Dazai nods, then looks at his shirt and pants. They’re covered in Kunikida’s blood and Kunikida tries not to think about how much blood he must have lost. It takes a while for him to start feeling better. 

“Feel any better?” Dazai asks. 

Kunikida nods. 

Dazai pulls the first aid kit out of his bag and starts expertly tending to Kunikida’s wounds. 

“Where did you learn that?” Kunikida mumbles. 

“What?” Dazai asks. 

“You’re good at that. Where did you learn?” 

“I learned from a friend who used to patch me up. I wasn’t all that good at it before.” 

“Why did you say friend like that?” 

“Those drugs sure make you curious. We were friends. We haven’t been on good terms in a while. I like to think we’ll get back on good terms, but that would require work on my end and I’m afraid to reach out like that. I have a feeling he won’t want to work things out.” 

“Are you talking about that redhead from the Mafia?” 

“Chuuya or Tachihara?” 

“The one that wasn’t a Hunting Dog, so Chuuya, if I remember correctly.” 

“Very observant of you.” 

“I saw how the two of you interacted and the President mentioned how fondly Mori spoke of you working with Chuuya.” 

Dazai grips Kunikida’s arm for a moment, then it’s like it never happened. “Mori was very fond of what Chuuya could do, and he can’t do it without me.” 

“What does that mean?” 

“Nothing we should discuss. I made a promise that I intend to keep. Anyway, look at that. Both injuries tended to and you only almost bled to death.” 

“That’s not as comforting of a thought as you think it is, Dazai,” Kunikida growls. 

“Oops,” Dazai says with a shrug. 

Dazai pulls his jacket off, then starts unbuttoning his shirt. 

“What are you doing?” Kunikida asks. 

“What I just did for you. What, you thought that I somehow managed to avoid the dozen flying knives when you didn’t?” 

Dazai’s arm has a nasty cut on it. Dazai pulls the bandages off his arm and bites down on his belt. He starts cutting his own skin off and Kunikida turns away. Dazai groans several times, but that’s it. Dazai’s arm, blood dripping down it, reaches over Kunikida and grabs the bandages from the first aid kit. Dazai carefully wraps his arm up, then pulls his shirt and jacket back on. 

The sounds of an engine echo through the hills. Dazai grabs the pistol from next to him and checks the bullet count. 

“Yeah, if it’s anybody other than the Agency, we’re dead,” Dazai says. “Good a time as any to die, I guess.” 

“You were just talking about talking it out with Chuuya.” 

“Yeah, and? I’ve almost died a dozen times since I came to the conclusion that I wanted to do that.” 

“A dozen? What have you been doing?” 

“Lots of beautiful women,” Dazai answers sarcastically. 

Dazai’s attention returns to the road. An Agency car comes into view and Dazai sighs and puts the gun down. 

“Well, guess I get to live.” 

Kunikida’s vision goes dark and he passes out. 

Kunikida wakes up in the Agency’s infirmary. He sits up and his head spins. 

“Hey, take it easy,” Yosano says. “I just finished healing you not that long ago.” 

“Sorry, Akki,” Kunikida says. “What happened?” 

“What do you remember?” 

“I remember leaving the Agency on time with Dazai for once because he showed up early. I remember driving out of town to find the cause of those problems, but nothing clear after that. Fire. Dazai being far too close to my face. Sounds like an engine.” 

“Dazai wrote up a report that you should read when you’re feeling better, but he said that the place was rigged with a bunch of traps. Something set on fire, he didn’t think it was intentional. You got cut twice by a knife that had some kind of drug or poison on it. He said you were out of it within minutes of being cut. He patched you up and called for backup since the car you guys took was disabled. Tanizaki went and picked you guys up with Kenji.” 

Kunikida nods, feeling like he’s missing an important event. Kunikida’s hand subconsciously goes to his side. 

“Phantom pain?” Yosano asks. “You had a pretty nasty cut there. If I didn’t know better, I’d say that someone cut you. Not just a knife flying at you.” 

“There’s no pain. Your ability is amazing, as usual,” Kunikida answers. “Can you grab me that report?” 

Yosano nods, then heads out. Once she comes back, she hands him the report. 

“How long was I out?” 

“Three hours after you came back, so four hours total counting the car ride and making sure that you were fine before getting in the car.” 

Kunikida nods. “Why did it take that long for you to heal me if it was only recently?” 

“I wasn’t in the office and it took me that long to get back after we got word of your injury,” Yosano answers. 

Kunikida reads the report and it matches up with Yosano’s story, nothing extra that sticks out. More details, but no extra events. 

“Weird,” Kunikida mutters. “Is Dazai still here?” 

“He is. He’s currently talking to Atsushi about going to a park. Not really sure why, but he is.” 

Kunikida nods. “I’ll talk to him later.” 

After almost an hour of talking with Yosano and Ranpo when he comes in for a few minutes, Kunikida heads out to the main office. Dazai’s working on paperwork with a somewhat distant expression on his face. 

“Dazai.” 

Dazai looks up, then gives Kunikida his usual somewhat mocking smile. “Hey, Kunikida. Akki told me that you didn’t remember much of the mission, that still true?” 

“Unfortunately, yes. Did I miss anything?” 

“Other than my exceptional first aid skills, you’re not missing anything,” Dazai says. “Trust me, it wasn’t worth remembering. You’re such a bore when you’re high.” 

Kunikida sighs. “Alright.” 

It still feels like something important’s missing. Wait… 

“Did you get injured? It wasn’t in the report.” 

“Me? No. There weren’t that many knives and I got in the way of you properly dodging them. Pretty normal stuff for us.” 

Kunikida cuts his eyes at Dazai, but heads to his desk to get some work done.

[backtothefanfiction]

All The Good Girls Go To Hell | TF!Boys Mafia AU ~ Part TWO

Summary: Phoenix has one last night of freedom before she is forced to go to work for her dad. What better way to spend it than a night on the town? Maybe taking home one of the guys she knows will only wind up Pope... or hopefully get her closer to bedding the man himself?

Warnings: 18+ Only, (Mature Content), Dark Mafia Romance Au, broken family, unhinged female rage, AFAB, OFC, Mixed POV, objectification of the female body, drug and alcohol used, smut, bondage, dom!reader, oral (m!recieving)

Word Count: 5.2k+

A/N: I am sorry this took so long to get done and posted. I also know I could have gone further into things at the end of this chapter but it felt like it ended there for me and it'll give us a place to start in chapter three. Once again we are gonna jump around to a few different character's perspectives. As always if you enjoy please give feedback and reblog, it means a lot. Also I'm posting this without doing a final proofread so may still contain some errors, but hopefully not. Enjoy!

TWO

PHOENIX

I haven’t been back in this room for years. Although I was bounced around boarding schools since I was 12, I still came home for the holidays and most weekends- my bedroom becoming a shrine to all the things I loved as a teenage girl. Hunky male actors (who we’re definitely way too old for me) cover my walls. All the half page and sometimes double spread posters from the centerfolds of my favorite magazines. Whatever space lay between was covered in doodles- made by sharpies- in an ever decreasing interest in becoming an artist.

My en-suite cupboards are filled with a plethora of half used bottles of crazy color, that are sat tempting me in my post break up adrenaline. They are probably long past their best before date and not that effective. At least that’s what I tell myself as I’m getting out the old tupperware pots still waiting under the desk and begin dumping out colors. I’ve only really got enough pink and blue to do half my head, so decide to split my hair in half straight down the middle and do a half and half ombré with the two colors a la Harley Quinn. But when my eyes fall on the toxic neon yellow shade, I know I have to find a way to work it in too. So instead of taking the pink and blue right down to the very ends of my hair, I decide to put the yellow on there instead. 

I’m sat on top of my old hand-me-down four poster bed, reading one of the old teen magazines (that have been kept in a box under my bed all these years) whilst my hair develops, when my Dad finally comes up to find me.

“What in hell’s name have you done to your head?” He says, stopping short in the doorway when he takes in the sight of me.

“What can I say? I was bored.” I say bluntly, barely looking up from between the glossy pages of the magazine.

“Give me that.” He says, stepping forward and snatching it out of my hands.

“Hey- I was reading that!” I protest, but he cuts me off.

“You’re 26 Phoenix, it’s time you start acting like it.”

I genuinely look at him shocked. After all these years he’s finally decided to grow a backbone and discipline me. “Woooow.” I begin to sass him when I spot  Ez over my Father’s shoulder, encouraging me to stop.

“Enjoy your last night of freedom Phoenix, because come tomorrow night you’re going to work with Archie.” my old man continues.

My attention snaps back to him so fast I almost give myself whiplash. “What!”

“Don’t give me that shit. You’re back living under my roof, you pay your way like everyone else in this house.”

“What, even Marina?” I snark, knowing she’s never done a single day’s work in years.

“Yes, actually.” my Dad retorts, “She helps me with the books.”

“Yeah, I bet she does.” I roll my eyes.

“Look, you don’t like it- maybe you shouldn’t have set fire to your life all over again. Jesus!” He turns on his heels, growing exasperated with me. “Your shift starts at 7 tomorrow. You can get a ride with Archie.” my Dad barks before he storms out the room without shutting the door behind him.

“I told you, you’ve really done it this time.” Ez chastises me from the open doorway.

“Oh shut up.” I say, getting up from the bed and slamming the door in his face.

I want to scream the word ‘FUCK’ for the whole house to hear, but I don’t want to give them the satisfaction. Only I would get cheated on and then punished for it. 

My fingers instead rub at my eyes. ‘Fuck this shit,’ I think to myself, storming over to my closet. I fling the doors open and survey what I have to work with. Most of it is from when I was 17 and near anorexic. It takes a few passes back and forth between items before I decide on a couple of items and choose to get a little crafty with them.

An hour later I’ve washed out my hair and styled it, throwing on a full face of makeup- complete with glitter and a dark lip- I now don an outfit made up of two spliced shirts, the front an old silver sequin shirt I’ve cut into a square and then fixed to the straps of a black spaghetti strap top. It hangs low enough to just about cover my pleather hotpants covered ass. My bra and tits are almost completely on display, but it’s just the bait I need to not have to buy a single drink tonight. Given that my Dad runs Medusa’s as well, I won’t even have to pay to get in.

I shove on a pair of bejeweled silver ankle boots to match the makeshift dress I’ve scraped together and throw on my old faithful leather jacket- once an oversized fit, that now fits perfectly- and I’m ready to go.

“Hey, give me a lift down to the club.” I say, knocking on Deano’s door frame two rooms down.

He barely looks away from his TV where he’s in the middle of a racing game. His fingers, glued to the controller in his hand, twiddle the joists and the tires from the car on the screen, screech through the sound system he has hooked up. “What’s in it for me?” 

“I’ll finally introduce you to Lucy.”

“How do you know she’ll be there?”

“It’s a Friday night. She’ll be there.”

“Phe, you haven’t been down to Medusa’s for years,” there’s a beep from the TV as he pauses the game to finally look at me, “how are you so sure- Dad is gonna kill you before he lets you go out dressed like that.” he says.

“Well I wasn’t planning on giving him a fashion show before we left.” I sigh, crossing my arms and legs, leaning my body against the door frame. “Besides, he’s the one who said this was my last night of freedom and I don’t plan on spending it sitting on my bed in my joggers 

watching reruns of the old house wives.”

“Fine.” he sighs, rubbing at his face, “But you’re messaging Lucy to make sure she’s gonna be there.” He points at me.

“Doing it now.” I say, reaching into my jacket pocket for my phone and typing out a hasty message to my old partner in crime. “Get dressed.” I bark at him.

“So bossy.” 

“Yep. And don’t you forget it.”

FRANKIE

Although most of the people in the clubbing business are in their 40s and 50s, the actual clubbing lifestyle is not suited for anyone over 35. Unless you are a woman in your 40s that is. (You’ll be surprised at the amount of middle aged Mom’s who band together and make a big deal about going out at least once a month, so that they can hold on to some semblance of themselves and their youth- especially if they have kids.)

No. If I had it my way, I would definitely not be spending my Friday night at a club full of sweaty twenty something year olds, all scantily clad or greasy and sleazy, trying to make a pass at anything else that walks or even just looks too long in their direction.  I can’t say the same about Benny though- but he is and always has been the baby of our little quartet. The man still hasn’t yet hit 40, so this ideally is still his game; and out of all of the clubs we’ve bought over the last few years, Medusa’s is without a doubt his favorite.  Marble stone statues dotted about the place, a large spray painted mural of the lady herself, complete with 3D gold fiberglass snakes that protrude from her head and red lights in her eyes. 

It’s also where most of the rich kids in town come to spend their money, so it always turns a pretty profit; not just from the booze, but also the amount of drugs that are bought and exchanged in the toilets. All of it our gear of course. 

Even when we aren’t dropping by for an inspection, Ben will still opt to spend most of his nights here sampling the merchandise, before taking home the prettiest young thing in a skirt he can find at the end of the night. That poor creature will then wake up at the penthouse the following morning and attempt to slip out before anyone else notices her. Unfortunately though, I’m an early riser and usually already sat having my morning coffee in the kitchen in my t-shirt and underwear, so a clean and easy get away very rarely happens.

We’ve barely made it through the door for the evening when he’s already eyeing up some girl dancing around a pole on top of one of the platforms. She’s barely wearing any clothes and has pink and blue hair, definitely Benny’s type. He’s always been fond of something a little more reckless and different- like him. He’s practically salivating as he comes to a stop to stare at her across the top of a couple of booths.

“Don’t even think about it.” Pope’s serious voice cuts through Benny’s thoughts. It has us all looking then.

Pope has never been one to make a comment or cock block any of us for that matter. He’s always said, what we do in our own time is none of his business; but the mere sight of this chick has him growing tight. 

Benny looks like he’s about to protest, his hands rising into the air to indicate back to the chick in a ‘oh come on, how can you say no to that’ kind of way- and I don’t really blame him; this chick’s even got my eyes lingering to places they shouldn’t. But Pope’s face remains firm. “I’m serious Ben, you don’t want to touch that,” he says. “And that goes for all of you.” He adds quickly, seeing the way both William and myself also seem to be taking her in. Because it’s true, she really is like nothing else here. The way she’s dressed, her colorful hair, her confidence- it’s magnetic. 

She sways her hips more, a naughty smile on her face. She knows we’re looking. But her eyes don’t linger on us. They linger on Pope. 

“You know each other?” I ask, observing the obvious.

“She’s David’s kid.” He states as if he’s already exhausted by her. By us. By this whole conversation.

“The fire starter?” Will chimes in. He seems to be eyeing her up with a whole new kind of appreciation now.

“Fire starter?” Benny’s ears prick up and he begins to bounce on the balls of his feet, palms rubbing together as if he’s gearing up for a competition.

“I told you Ben, hands off.” Pope says again. “Now come on. We’ve got work to do.” He says and continues to walk towards the back of the club to a raised seating area that’s reserved only for us.

“Yeah, yeah.” Benny sasses back to him, but leans into me, nudging my shoulder with his as he says, “what’s he gonna do?” He nods in David’s daughter's direction, before giving me a mischievous smirk.

PHOENIX

In all fairness, this so-called ‘last night of freedom’ was turning into a bit of a dud until they walked in. There was no real entertainment. It was boring. Predictable.

Lucy was indeed at the club as predicted, flanked by a couple of nobody guys already hovering around her like mosquitoes, despite the fact she didn’t seem to give a single one of them the time of day. My brother of course quickly joined their ranks. No- she was far more focused on doing blow at the table with her “girls” (I’d never met them before… couldn’t even remember their names), but I joined nonetheless. After all, Lucy was loaded. 

She worked as one of those so-called “influencers”. She was constantly charging companies upwards of 10 grand a post, claiming it was such hard work to take a picture and write the perfect caption for her 1 million followers who only followed her for her looks, not her substance- of which she had very little.

So I made small talk, bumped a couple of lines and downed the complimentary bottles of bubbly that kept being brought to her booth and over all, tried to block out the mind numbing monotony of the whole situation. I only started dancing on the table to give myself something to do- but then my new buddy and his friends walked in. Gods he was more handsome and mysterious under the cover of night- and his friends weren’t bad looking either. 

They all wore some version of an all black uniform; casual suits with half open button downs, black T-shirts and leather jackets. I didn’t know which one I wanted to sink my newly single teeth into first, because let’s face it, I’d happily fuck each and every one of them… maybe even twice… or maybe even more than one of them at the same time.

It’s clear the biggest guy wants me too, the way he stands staring, his tongue practically lolling out of his mouth as he salivates, his eyes taking me in like I’m already his favorite meal and he can’t wait to chow down. No doubt he’d take me for the ride of my life, if I let him, but it’d be too easy. I love a challenge and the way Pope has his eyes on me, I really can’t resist. 

As he ushers them to move on, taking the lead as they make their way towards a VIP booth up a couple steps over to the far left of the DJ booth, giving them the perfect view to survey their goods, my mind begins to whir as quickly as my limbs swing around the pole in my hands. I watch tentatively from a distance, taking mental notes of every little thing he does. The way he runs his hands back through his tight curls when he becomes stressed. The way he struggles to relax, always sitting further forward, reaching for his phone or something on the table, or if that fails, fiddling with the buttons of his open blazer as his fist rests against his hip.

He’s uptight that’s for sure. Typical business type who likes to be in control and run the show. If I’m gonna wear him down, it’s gonna take time and not just on the side lines working in this club, but I have to penetrate his inner circle. As I slump back down next to Lucy in the booth, I slowly realize what I have to do. It’s just like in the olden days, if you wanted to bed the King, you had to get yourself in with someone lower down in his court and work your way up- and I knew just who to start with.

BENNY

I knew Pope had said no, but when had that ever stopped me before? He knew what I was like. Knew I’d rather act now and enjoy myself and deal with the consequences later. Besides, it didn’t matter whose kid she was, if she was in here, she was clearly legal and the way she’s been eyeing me up since we sat down, clearly meant she wants this too. She’s firmly placing herself down on the table- and damn- if that isn’t that most appealing slice of cherry pie I have ever seen.

Actually scratch that, she looks like the embodiment of one of those slushies you can get down at the 7/11 and all the guys know the blue raspberry, cherry mix is my favorite.

“Yo! Ben!” My brother snaps his fingers in front of my eyes, breaking me once again from my fixation and fantasies. “Brother, have you been listening to a word Pope just said?”

“Yeah, of course.” I bristle, but in all honesty, I haven’t got a fucking clue.

“Oh really. Go on then,” he presses me, as Pope and Frankie stand and begin to leave the booth, making their way over to the bar, “tell me what he just said.”

“Something about going and checking in with the team leader that’s on tonight to check about sales or something.” I murmur my reply.

“Lucky guess.” My brother says, rolling his eyes.

“Hey, why did you call her the fire starter?” I turn and ask him. He’s got that look on his face and struggles to meet my eyes, because he knows it’s a bad idea to answer my question and supply me with no doubt deadly information, but he also knows I’ll just keep asking or find it even more of an intriguing game if he doesn’t.

“She set fire to her school.” He finally says, reaching into his jacket pocket and pulling out a stick of gum, unwrapping it and placing it in his mouth. I’ve never understood his obsession with the stuff, but then again, I’ve never understood why he’s such a neat freak either. And to be honest, given my brother's near compulsive need to always have minty fresh breath (despite the fact I know he ain’t been kissing no girls in a long time- not since Kylie broke up with him) I’d probably place my bets on the two things being linked. “Oh and she set her fiancé’s bed on fire when she found him in bed with another girl. Or should I say ex-fiancé now.” Will continued as he chewed down on his gum.

His words had my eyes growing wide. “No, Ben, don’t even think about it.” He chastises me.

“What?” I say indignantly. “How do you know what I was thinking?” I ask him.

“Because I know you. You’re probably wondering what it’s gonna take for her to set you on fire.” I can’t help the small grunt that escapes me as I cross my arms and spread my legs, sitting myself back in the booth. “Yeah- exactly.” My brother says with his know it all attitude. 

I hate it when he does that. He pretends like he’s all high and mighty, but I know for a fact he checked her out too, when we first arrived. And I know he would definitely hit that if given the chance. No doubt she’d be too much for his uptight ass though. But then again, I think to myself as my eyes glance back across the room to her as she gets back up from her seat to begin dancing and wrapping herself seductively around that pole again, maybe that’s exactly what he needs to loosen him up a bit. But given the way she’s currently eyeballing me, there’s no way I’m letting him tap that before me.

PHOENIX

I take my time as I wait for the rest of them to finish up for the night and leave- knowing all too well that Benny would stay behind. Between drinks, and the odd extra sniff of blow off the back of one of Lucy’s guy friends’ hands, me and my target for the night have been eye fucking each other like it’s a sport. At 1am he approached the bar. At 1:15 a pink and blue bubblegum flavored drink made its way over to me. It didn’t take two guesses to work out who had sent it- but the bartender told me anyway. 

I raised it in his direction, with a polite smile of thanks, before I seductively brought the straw to my lips. I kept eye contact with him as I began to suck it down and he gave me the dirtiest smirk, before he turned his attention back to Pope and the rest of their group. When I flashed a look towards the elder gentleman he quickly turned his eyes back away from me, but unfortunately for him he wasn’t quick enough for me to not see the look of contempt in his eyes. Oh yeah, this was gonna be fun.

It was another hour and a half before the rest of them left. At this point Lucy was too far gone. Half of her mates had disappeared. There was only one other girl left at the table with us who was talking to my brother, whilst two other guys who had been thirsting over Lucy all night, finally seized their moment.

“We’re gonna take her home.” one of them shouted as the other attempted to pull a very inebriated Lucy out of the booth. I thought for sure Deano would protest being the sober one and designated driver, but he was far too wrapped up in the red head sat next to him; who also seemed fairly sober considering the state the rest of our group had been getting in most of the night.

Overall though, I couldn’t care less- I had my eyes on my own prize. 

The tall fair haired man finally began to make his way over to me now his companions had officially left the building. He looked like he could be a boxer… or a football player. As he got closer I noticed his eyes were a piercing baby blue. 

“Benny.” He said, holding his hand out to me.

“Phoenix.” I replied with a smile in the corner of my lips, taking his hand carefully in my own and giving it a shake. I noticed Deano notice him and bristle slightly, it was clear he wanted to say something, but the way Benny turned his eye on him, he quickly lost his nerve.

“Deano.” Benny said, laying on the charm.

My brother swallowed hard. “Benny.” He said a little tightly.

“Here-“ Benny said to Dean, slipping a hand into the inside pocket of his blazer, “why don’t you two go treat yourself to a couple of drinks on me,” he said, pulling out a money clip. He peeled off a couple of bills, handing them over to my brother, before he slipped the money back into his pocket. Deano gave me a small reluctant and protective look, but when he looked back to Benny, he knew not to protest- after all he did work for him and knew not to get on Ben’s bad side.

“Come on, Isla.” He said to the red headed girl beside him, offering her his hand before leading her over to the bar.

As Benny sat himself down next to me in the booth, I couldn’t help but smirk. “You know, I don’t think I’ve ever seen Deano that scared of anyone.” 

Ben let out a scoff, “Nahh.” He said, denying the claim with a small wave of his hand. “It’s nothing really. Dean’s a good guy. I fought him once actually.”

My brow furrowed at the piece of information- so he was a boxer. “Really?” I pondered.

“Ehh just a small little work match.” He said, sitting himself back and smoothing out his trousers. “We’ve got this boxing gym down near the docks. Some of the guys like to go down there sometimes, let off a little steam.”

“Does Pope go?”

“Pope?” His brow furrowed slightly, but his tone was one of surprise. “Nahh… nah.” He said, shaking his head. “My brother and Frankie do sometimes, more to support me and just watch, but no- Pope doesn’t really go there. It’s not really his thing.”

I pause for a moment, just to take in the information. “So what does he do to let off steam then? I mean, the man seems pretty uptight.” I say the second part of the sentence lightly, I don’t want Benny thinking I’m only using him for information about his Boss.

“To be honest… I don’t really know.” Ben confides in you. “I mean, I come here and do my boxing, my brother likes his bikes. Frankie likes to take off into the woods and go fishing. But Pope, honestly, I don’t know.” He goes quiet then. He’s contemplative, as if he’s never really put much thought into it before. I shuffle myself slightly next to him and he quickly snaps back out of it though. “What about you?” He turns his head and asks me, his eyes raking over me and lingering over my chest on the way. “What do you like to do to let off steam?”

☆

I’m barely thinking about how I just ditched my brother, leaving him alone at the club without even saying goodbye, as Benny slams my back into the door to the penthouse apartment. His lips have been on mine since the elevator doors closed. When the bell dinged to signal we had reached the top floor, we hadn’t even parted; he hooked his large hands underneath my ass and lifted me up, my legs and arms wrapping tightly around his shoulders and hips as I allowed him to carry me like a literal child to the door.

He propped me against it with his hips as he fumbled in his pockets looking for a key card. “Wait, wait, wait…” he said against my lips as he reluctantly parted from them, “just give me a… second.” He said as he finally located the card and held it to the small black box beside the door. There was a beep and the tiny light went green as the door went click. “There we go.” He muttered to himself, pulling on the door handle and pushing it open before latching his lips back onto mine and taking me inside. 

He carried me over to the kitchen island, where he finally put me down atop the cold marble countertop, parting with me for only a moment so that he could take off his, no doubt expensive, designer blazer and hand it over the back of one of the bar stools at the end of the island. The quick break allowed me to survey the room in the city lights that streamed in through the large floor to ceiling windows that lined the far left wall and wrapped around the side of the stairs at the end of the large open plan living space, that no doubt lead up to the bedrooms.

“Is anyone else home?” I asked breathlessly, as he moved back around the island to nestle himself between my legs, his large palms sliding up and down my bare legs.

He shook his head, a small glint of excitement in his eyes. “No, my brother and Frankie had business to attend to.” He explained, his eyes moving up and down my body, taking me in like I was a meal, as he spoke. “They won’t be back for at least another couple of hours.” As soon as he finished his sentence, he immediately began to attack my lips with his own again. 

It was thrilling to finally kiss another man after being with Freddie for nearly five years, even his Ben’s lips were a little rougher. It was clear already that Benny was all about force; his job, his muscles, the boxing, his kissing- and although in the right person a little force in sex can be a good thing, I knew sex with Benny would no doubt be fast hard and over way too soon before my orgasm had even had a chance to build. But I’d been watching him all night, saw that look in his eye when he first saw me. Noticed the double take he did when his brother no doubt told him who I was and what I’d done. I’d seen that hunger in him grow and I knew what he truly wanted.

I broke my lips from his, feigning the need to take a breather; and to my delight, felt his lips begin to travel down my neck instead, affording me a chance to look over his shoulder towards the dining table right in front of the window and formulate a plan. I slowly began to walk my fingers down his chest, making a path right for his belt. My lips attached themselves to his once more in an attempt to distract as I began to push him back, hopping down from the counter as I walked him slowly backwards towards the table, carefully maneuvering him around it in front of the large window that overlooked the city. I gently hooked my toes around the chair leg at my side, pushing it out from under the table and shifting it to just the right position behind him, all the while my fingers worked to undo his belt. He smiled against my lips with a knowing chuff as I swiftly pulled the belt from the loops, the metal of the buckle jangling in my grasp.

I met his eyes with a devilish look as I pulled away from him, gently nibbling on my lower lip and he grunted slightly in anticipation. However that grunt turned into a small moan as I pushed him back down into the chair and sat myself on top of him. I could already feel how hard he was in his slacks, eager to get inside me. 

He reached his arms around my back as he tried to grind up into my sex, but I shook my head. “Nuh, uh, uh.” I chastised him, reaching behind me for his wrists. At my words, he pouted, but that childlike look of wonder quickly returned to his eyes when I moved his arms behind his back and began to wrap his belt around them, fastening them tightly into place, before I stood up and began to step back from him.

“What ya gonna do fire starter?” Benny asked me teasingly as I began to sway my hips back and forth; looking him up and down, taking in the sight before me.

“Who, me?” I teased as I slowly began to lift up my top to reveal myself to him.

“You gonna set me on fire too?” He asked almost excitedly.

“Maybe… someday.” I said, as I began to slide my shorts down, leaving them in a puddle of fabric on the floor with my top. Now stood only in my underwear and heels, I began to slowly walk towards him again. “But tonight…” I teased as I circled him, my finger dragging across his chest, up across the back of his shoulders and back again. When I was back in front of him I slowly began to drop to my knees before him, my hands sliding up his thighs and back down again as I parted his knees, “-tonight,” I said again, my fingers beginning to inch back up towards the opening of his slack, “I think I’m just gonna blow-” I unbuttoned his trousers, pulling the fabric and forcing the zip open, “your-” I reached my hands in below his waistband and pulled out his cock, it was so hard and thick just the sight of it made me begin to salivate. “Mind.” I finally said as I wrapped my lips around his cock, my tongue swirling around his tip, making him moan loudly into the dark room.

________________________________

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@casa-boiardi @southernbe @littlenosoul @movievillainess721 @pastawench @littlemisspascal

[unnervinglyferal]

Well Dad went to cut down dead trees on our property

The trees happen to be by one of our neighbors who I’m going to call Tod and Harmony

Tod and Harmony are older folk, they often have their toddler grandkids over, recently a teenager has been hanging out around there, he’s assumed to be the boyfriend of their teenage grandkid

Apparently Dad had already had some iffy interactions around that land near them before because he was already worried that they would get upset at him

Well he goes down there and he doesn’t even set down his tools before Harmony starts shit

Harmony doesn’t think that Dad’s on our land so he shouldn’t be cutting down all trees

Harmony doesn’t even think it’s her land by the way

She thinks it belongs to the people who own the semi abandoned house on our street

Dad tries to explain that it’s our land and he’s just cutting down the dead and diseased ones

Dad cuts down like four trees before he leaves because Harmony is just watching him and now it’s super awkward

He comes home and he’s annoyed and upset, his whole day has been thrown of course by this

He talks to Mom and they decide that he’ll go and show them the deed in a few days once they’ve calmed down a bit

WELL THAT DOESN’T HAPPEN

Harmony gets our other neighbors Heath and Ann involved

We all like Heath and Ann, they’re good people and their dog Gunner is a sweetheart

Ann happens to have one of the owners numbers so she gives them Dad’s number

The owner, Caroline, texts Dad and is super confused

Pretty much everyone thought that land belonged to her family, including her family

It turns out that no, it’s likely they just had an informal agreement with Bob, the previous owner, so they could use the land

So yeah it’s ours

Dad’s all nice and says that if she wants she can grab some saplings because the trees over there have some sentimental value

Caroline’s all nice, she’s glad this is all cleared up because eventually she’s going to sell the house

The end right?

FUCKING NO

Harmony somehow gets Caroline to text Dad again asking him to hold off cutting down the trees because Ann and Harmony are really really upset over it

Dad’s now super upset because:

1. What the fuck Ann

2. What the fuck in general

So he goes down to show Tod and Harmony the deed

The deed that clearly shows that it’s our land

Tod’s just kinda confused and starts to say that he’s worried about some trees falling on their house

The trees he was talking about were his trees

Not ours

But Harmony is pissed

She’s yelling, she keeps repeating that for FOUR YEARS people have told her it’s Caroline’s land, she refuses to even look at the deed saying that she can’t read that

The deed is literally a map

She doesn’t have to read

It’s a map

So they’re yelling and then some fucking kid tries walks out and tries to fight Dad

Tod is literally having to shove the guy back inside

Eventually and I don’t know how Dad gets them to calm down

He makes them give him hugs goodbye and goes across the street to talk to Heath and Ann

Turns out Ann had nothing to do with it

She literally just contacted Caroline to get her talking with us

Anyways me and Mom have to walk by their house to go on our walks

And Dad’s really worried about the teen just starting shit because he’s mad so I asked them both to let me handle him if it gets physical

Because I probably have like thirty pounds on him and I’m not in my mid fourties’ so I’m less breakable and also won’t get in as much trouble for doing it

Such a mess

From the bottom of my heart:

What the fuck?

[rogerswifesblog-updates]

Chapter 6

Series Masterlist

A/N: Hi! It ain’t a sweet chapter, sorry:( but it’ll get better soon! Promise! I’m also thinking about posting one of the smut one shots that I’ve already written…about our sweet Stevie wearing a bunny costume and…a cute bunny tail…if you know what I mean👀

Warnings; heartbreak </3

You took out your phone, to Steve; I’m sorry, I can’t do this. It’s over.

It was over.

Steve looked down at his phone when he heard the ringtone he had just for you. A smile crept onto his lips, but it quickly disappeared. “What is it?”, Bucky asked next to him, trying to peek at his phone. He immediately showed Bucky the message, since he had to listen to Steve’s rant about you for the past few hours, so he knew everything about your situation. Maybe more than he’d like to…

But it was interesting, he had to admit. So he had listened and imagined how it would be to have a woman in charge. It sounded really…appealing. The whip? Just wow.

After reading the message he looked back at Steve, as confused as the blonde, but less hurt. “I don’t know what happened? I didn’t do anything-I mean- I…I told her I loved her but…but I thought she felt the same. Do you think it’s because of that? Because I said I loved her? God did I really mess it up so soon? Was it my fault?”, he started rambling, making Bucky shake his shoulders forcefully. “Shut up, it’s not your fault. You have to ask her. Do it now-text her-call her or god, I don’t know, go to her place. Talk to her. There has to be a reason-maybe she’s scared of the age difference? Maybe…maybe…I don’t know”, Bucky tried to think of a reason, not even suspecting Steve’s father being the cause of all this.

Steve wiped away a single tear from his cheek, that he hadn’t even noticed falling. “You’re right. I’ll drive to her place. And I’ll buy flowers-maybe chocolate? I don’t even know what flowers she liked-god maybe I shouldn’t be her boyfriend. Maybe I’d be a shit boyfriend who treats his girls awfully-“ “Steve, alone that you’re thinking and worrying about it shows you’re great. Let’s not jump to conclusions…it’s probably a misunderstanding…”, Bucky tried to calm his best friend down.

It didn’t work. Steve started sending one text message after the oh they, but none of them were delivered. Fuck.

They only had a few minutes left and as soon as the bell rang, signaling the end of classes, Steve stormed out of the room.

He drove faster than usually, pretty sure he also missed a red light, before stopping at a flower shop to buy you roses. Roses were good, right? It’s what they always buy in movies.

He felt pathetic. Not even knowing what kind of flowers to buy for a girl. Maybe you were right with ending this…relationship or whatever it was between you two. You had been right about him. He was too young. Just a teenager without any experience in…anything, really. He was still in high school. He never had a job. Barely passed maths…god, he can’t even grow a fucking beard. How could he even think he’d be good enough for you?

Was he stupid for feeling so deeply connected to you? Naive? Was it because you were the first girl he had kissed? The first sex he had? The first…person he ever loved? But you knew all of this. You wouldn’t have used him just for fun, he knew that. So what changed?

Steve looked down at his phone, then back to your building and once again to the messages.

What did I do wrong?

Why are you ending this?

I'm coming to your place so we can talk this through.

Don’t leave me. Please.

Please answer.

Y/N?

Tell what I did wrong. I’ll do better.

I promise.

Is it because of what I said? I didn’t mean to.

I mean, I did mean what I said but I didn’t mean to say it in a rush. I’m sorry.

I’m such an idiot.

Please text me back.

Did something happen?

Are you okay?

Wait…it’s not delivered?

Did you block my number?

Steve wiped away a few stray tears, quickly trying to pull himself together. Just in time for an older man to open the door, Steve quickly left his car and entered after him, walking right to your door.

Taking a deep breath he knocked at your door and waited. His hands sweaty and shaking. His breathing heavy. His vision still blurry from the previous tears. Was he weak for crying? But on the other hand he was in love for the first time. He had his first time with you…just yesterday…maybe you didn’t like how inexperienced he was? Maybe you thought he wouldn’t be good enough with all the…bdsm stuff? That’s what you called it. But he’d learn…why wouldn’t you give him a chance?

Nobody was opening the door, so he knocked again, louder. “He-hey it’s me. Steve. Can we talk?” his voice was trembling, so he tried to clear his throat, only to feel even weaker than before. His hands started shaking even more, the roses rustling against each other, some leaves falling to the floor. “Please open the door…we can talk it out. I’m sorry. Whatever I did to upset you, I’m so sorry”, he mumbled, leaning his forehead against the wood. Still no answer.

After listening for any movement he came to the conclusion you weren’t even home. His head thumbed once again against the door-then he heard a knob turn, but it wasn’t from your door. The older man from before, who apparently was your neighbor, opened her door. "Stop banging on her door! Didn't you do that enough last night? Ugh kids these days..." But seeing Steve’s swollen and red eyes with roses in his hands, he understood something had happened. “Young man, you’re a bit too late to apologise. She packed her belongings and left, not looking back”, the man looked at the heartbroken boy. Behind the thick glasses his gaze softened, while a sob escaped Steve’s throat. “But I didn’t do anything-she-she just sent me a message-didn’t even explain anything-she just left. Just like that”, Steve explained to the guy, not even caring if he was interested in listening or not. He just needed to talk about it.

“Come here, boy. I’ll make you tea and you can tell me what happened.” Steve hesitated for a moment but followed the man in his apartment, feeling incredibly safe around him, even though he was a stranger. “Now sit down at the table. I’ll make some chamomile tea. Call me Stan and who are you boy?”, said Stan, filling the kettle with water. “Steve”, he answered quietly, looking down at the roses in his hand.

Stan held out his hand for them, Steve not thinking twice before giving him these, the older man putting them in a pretty vase. “Maybe she’ll be back. We don’t want the flowers to wilt, don’t we?” Steve shook his head slowly, his shoulders slumped making himself look small.

“I’m sorry to tell you this, but she didn’t only left with a suitcase but also with another man…“, Stan said, his voice calm but sympathetic. He patted Steve’s shoulder. “It’ll be alright. You’re young. You’ll meet another girl. Or boy. Everything is possible these days. Enjoy your youth as long as you can…besides…aren’t you a bit young to bring this woman flowers?”, asked Stan, curiously but still friendly.

Steve sighed quietly. Was it really that obvious?

“I’m 18…she’s a bit older but I don’t mind. She’s amazing…she…she’s intelligent. And funny. And so good in maths…”, he mumbled, looking down at his steaming tea. “I…I really love her.”

Stan squeezed Steve should, taking his hand from him and drinking from his tea, nodding for Steve to do the same. After a few moments Stan stood up, taking cookies out and putting them on the table. “Have a cookie.” Steve did as told, mouching on the sweets. “Maybe she wasn’t meant for you, Steve. I had met my true love closer to thirty than your age. And maybe it’s just not your time yet. Sometimes we meet people for the sake of meeting and experiencing. Not for them to be a part of our life forever…they’re just in a few chapters and then…disappear. If she treated you like that, she clearly wasn’t a good person. She didn’t care about your feelings. If she did care about you, you’d find a way to be together. Age difference or not, love always finds a way”, Stans words made Steve’s heart ache. The butterflies he usually felt thinking about you made him feel sick. He could puke. He could scream. But all that really happened was more tears leaving his eyes.

With a trembling lip he looked up at Stan.

“So…it’s over?”

While Steve was spending a few hours pouring out his heart to Stan, you were at Jake's place, changing out of your wrinkled office clothes. He was calling his friends to ask about the job offer they had a while ago-and maybe someone had a place for you to stay. At least for a while. Fortunately Aisha's roommates moved out recently, so she immediately offered the room to you. And you took it. You had no other choice…

Or did you? Not if you wanted Steve to have a future. He was intelligent, a really smart and hardworking guy who deserved to go to college…you wouldn’t be the reason why he wouldn’t do it. If it meant you’d have a broken heart…then be it. He’d be happy. Steve was a sweetheart, girls loved him. And he’d find a girl that’s perfect for him. Maybe one, that is his age.

Sighing you looked at yourself in the mirror. Was it noticeable how much older you were compared to Steve? It wasn’t that much…why are you even thinking about it? It doesn’t matter anymore. It was over. You had to accept that.

You had to accept you lost Steve.

Probably the love of your life.

Doesn’t matter.

You’d get over it.

At some point…

Probably…

Maybe…

Or not…

Head shaking you brushed your hair out of your face, your neat hairstyle from when you did it this morning completely messy and tangled. The makeup you wore totally smudged.

You didn’t only look like a mess, you were one. You had no idea what would happen next. Within only a few hours everything had broken apart. Especially your heart.

And even more when you saw the few messages from Steve.

What did I do wrong?

Why are you ending this?

I'm coming to your place so we can talk this through.

Don’t leave me. Please.

Please answer.

Y/N?

Tell what I did wrong. I’ll do better.

I promise.

Then you had blocked him. The few messages broke your heart and you felt awful. Especially since he thought it was his fault. Of course the first thing Steve thought about was being at fault. That he did something wrong…

God, you were an awful human being.

“Are you hungry?”, Jake's voice brought you out of thoughts, making you look back at him. His gaze softened even more seeing your teary eyes. “It’ll be alright”, he whispered, pulling you in the hundreds hug today. Immediately more tears started pouring from your eyes.

“It won’t be, Jake…not without him.”

Next

Thank you for reading!:) I hope you enjoyed reading, the next chapter will be out soon! I think the series till be around 9 (or maybe 10) chapters long!!^^

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[ijustwantogohomehogwarts]

The Adventures of Lee and Gracie - BONES AND ALL : part 2

The Adventures of Lee and Gracie - BONES AND ALL : part 2

Warnings and such: some angst, especially sibling, talks about shitty past, stalker?, mentions of scars, jokes about dying and poor driving....?

--------------------------------------------------

“And yesterday I met you. I think that’s all there is to tell.”

I don’t know why, but opening up about my life and talking to Lee felt like second nature, like the easiest thing to do in the world. It shouldn’t be, I don’t think. Despite feeling like I had known him for years, it had hardly been 24 hours. Maybe it was in the way he listened, how his eyes constantly flickering between me and the road. Or how he’d smile and nod along as I spoke, interrupting to ask questions or confirm that he was still following along with the people and places I spoke about. I never imagined people like that actually existed, not outside of the books I read at least. 

“That’s some heavy shit, not going to lie.” He chucked, pulling into a gas station. “But you seem to be handling yourself well, I’ll give you that much!” 

“Thank you? I think?” I laughed, getting out too. I watched him, again, as he got gas and walked circles around the parking lot. He was easy to watch- in a non-stalkerish type of way. 

“You hungry?”

“Ummm…”

Lee laughed, pointing to a dinner behind me. “I know better.” The idea of Lee eating regular food seemed like a foreign concept. I don’t think I can ever recall a time where my mother ate “people food,” outside of coffee and some junk food she had shoved in the back of the kitchen cabinets. I was learning, at an alarming rate, that I knew nothing. 

“You’re turn,” I smiled as we sat down to dinner.

“My turn?”

“Lee! Come on, tell me about you.” He chewed his food slowly, avoiding eye contact with me as he did. 

“Can it wait? Until we’re back on the road.” I tried to glare at him in a non-threatening type of way, if that was even possible. He smiled, holding a pinky out towards me. 

“Fine.” I turned his hand over, taking in his tattoos for the first time. “How about those? Can we talk about those now?” He laughed, taking his hand back.

“Honestly, there’s nothing to tell. I did them myself. When I was younger. For no reason at all…I was just bored. Why? You want one?” 

“I’ve thought about it…”

So we talked about tattoos, and hair and piercings…all the things teenagers toyed with and were typically done with by our age. As it turns out, the pink hair was actually supposed to be red, but he could never keep up on maintaining the color. ‘So pink it is.’ 

I learned 3 things about Lee over dinner;

The first was that he had an appetite. This boy could eat, and would eat, anything you put in front of him. He must have the metabolism of a God. He was probably, what? 140 pounds, soaking wet?! 

The second was that he was an absolute riot. He wasn’t loud, per say- quite soft spoken and monotone actually, but he could find a way to crack jokes at every word that came out of my mouth. Some of them were great- we were doubled over in laughter, drawing attention to ourselves a few times over the two hours we sat inside. Other times, the jokes were really, really lame. I’m talking kindergarten level knock knock jokes, but the way he told them…you had to laugh. And boy, did he have a beautiful laugh! 

The third was that he was unfavorably kind. This was more of a judgment call on my part, I don’t know that he would ever admit to being a kind person, considering what he was, but I thought he was kind. He held doors for me, let me order first, and asked if I had enough to eat more than once. He was overly pleasant to the waitstaff, though I saw nothing wrong with that, and he even asked the entirety of the dinner if anyone wanted the last piece of peach pie before he took it. I mean, who does that?!

“Alright mister,” I turned my full attention towards him once we got back in the truck, back against the door, feet on the seat. He turned down the radio and cleared his throat. 

“There’s not a whole lot to tell, I’m just going to say that now.” I nodded.

He talked. It was a drawn out story with bare bone details, and I could tell he was reluctant to share anything too personal, but in the moment it didn’t seem to bother me. I didn’t push him for details- I was just happy to hear him talk.

His voice stirred confusion throughout my body. Lee was human, of course he was, but I think he went his whole life believing he was a monster, or at least that’s how other people would see him. I couldn’t bring myself to see him that way though, outside of the cannibalistic tendencies, he and I shared very similar experiences growing up. The monsters I’ve read about in stories, the real ones you heard about on the news- they all had tragic backstories of abuse and neglect and abandonment. Lee didn’t get along with his dad, but he had a sister, a mother, aunts and uncles…never any real friends to speak of, but I didn’t either. I don’t know if any of that made it easier or harder on Lee to be ‘what’ he is, but I thought him to be far from a ‘bad person.’ 

We rolled to a stop at an intersection in the middle of nowhere. The red glow brought me out of my thoughts, my attention back to the boy at my feet. He yawned, looking around. I don’t think either one of us had realized how late it had gotten, and we didn’t make plans to stop somewhere. We’ll have to get better at that. Lee stuck his head out the window, like a dog, and smiled. 

“How do you feel about sleeping outside?”

“What?”

“There’s nothing here, I’m not sure where else to stop. We could find a nice spot to park, sleep under the stars?”

“Okay…” I hesitated, not sure if he was being serious or not.

He was serious.

We found a quiet spot at the edge of a field a few miles up the road. We pulled out our bags and the few small blankets we’ve collected and piled into the bed of the truck. Lee handed me the keys and a flashlight. 

“Gracie?” He muttered, trying to get comfortable. 

“Yeah?”

“Do you think we could stop in Kentucky? I promised my sister I would teach her how to drive…”

Domestic.

“Of course we can!” He smiled and rolled over without another word. 

I sat on the tailgate and tried to read. There was only a few chapters left in my book, but it was my last one and I wasn’t sure how long it would be before I’d find somewhere to get another one. The stars were beautiful. I was beginning to regret not sleeping in the bed of my truck before tonight, I had always slept in the cab, too scared to be out in the open and by myself. But I wasn’t alone anymore. I had Lee. 

******

“How long will it take to get to Kentucky?” I asked, watching as Lee’s fingers traced over the map. 

“If we don’t stop anymore than necessary, we could probably make it by tonight. Or tomorrow morning if you wanted to raid a bookstore along the way.” I smiled at him, eyes returning to the road.

The drive was long, but otherwise easy. Lee sang to every song on the radio, belted at the top of his lungs to his favorites, and groaned at every commercial. It reminded me of a road trip with a small child, except this was far more enjoyable.

We had to stop for gas one more time before the sun went down, and decided that this would be it for the day. We found the cheapest motel and walked across the parking lot to a convenient store for dinner. 

“You know, this is considered a delicacy in some areas.” Lee grinned, holding up a can of spaghettios. 

“In this area, we respect spaghettios!” I beamed, snatching the can from him and tucking it under my arm.

Lee continued looking up and down the aisles, but I could tell that he wasn’t excited about anything. There was something else on his mind. I could see it, the way he watched everyone who walked past him in the store. I’m not sure how often eaters eat, but maybe that’s what it was? Lee and I had been together for almost a week…

I slipped around the corner, gitty to find the last box of exactly what I was looking for. I returned to Lee, who was still watching someone at the front of the store. I stuck the box in front of his face and smiled. 

“Really?” He laughed. I nodded excitedly. “Will you do it for me?” The question caught me by surprise, it was an innocent request but seemed so…personal? Intimate almost? 

“Okay!” 

We perused the store for a little while longer, but Lee seemed to be more distracted than he had even when we walked in. I figured I would ask him about it later, when the only people who could hear us were the ones on the other side of the paper thin walls of the motel room. Strangers. People we would never meet face to face. Who cares what they thought. 

I noticed an old man who was watching Lee and I intently as we checked out. Lee must have noticed him too, because as we were leaving and the man made a step towards us, Lee put a hand at the small of my back and rushed us across the parking lot.

“Go. Go.” he whispered. The door slammed behind us and Lee locked it quickly, peeking behind the curtain.

“What?”

“That guy…” he started, dragging a hand through his hair. “I feel like I’ve seen him before.”

“Like, recently?”

“More than once. I can’t be sure though. He’s one of us- he’s like me, I mean. I could smell him.”

“Lee…” He began pacing in front of the door. He took a deep breath and stopped. “Do you think we should leave?”

“No,” he sounded much more confident this time. “We’re almost to my house, if I see him again…we’ll deal with it.” 

I nodded…not knowing what else to say. I tried to recall if I could smell someone like that too. I could smell Lee, he smelled nice… but I’m not sure if that was the same thing or not.

“Ready?” He asked, taking the box and walking towards the bathroom. I jumped up in excitement. 

“Look down, you’re too tall.” I laughed, reaching for the top of his head. 

“Have you done this before?” He walked away, sitting on the closed toilet seat. 

“It’s hair dye, not rocket science!”

“That’s a no!” Lee laughed. I looked around the bathroom, everything was smeared with a bright red hue, like someone had been- I stopped that thought, turning my attention back to what I was doing. 

“I think that’s all of it.” I smiled, taking a step back to look at him. 

“Are you sure? There’s still some in the bowl…” 

“There’s always extra, you should know that!” 

He chuckled softly, standing to look at himself in the mirror. He looked rather impressed that I didn’t get any on his face. I was impressed too. He smiled at me in the reflection, watching as I took off the cheap gloves and tossed them in the trash. 

“Gracie,”

I looked up. Lee was standing within arms reach, the rest of the hair dye on his fingers. I nodded, feeling a blush rise in my cheeks. He stepped forward, and grabbed a strand of hair from the underside of my head, fingers ghosting against my skin. He smeared the chemicals in, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. There was more left over than I thought there was, so I allowed him to dye a section in the front of my hair too- a section that would be more visible. 

He looked so proud of himself. 

We sat down to dinner and a movie, the comfortable silence engulfing me like a fire. I was starting to love it… I checked my watch and nudged Lee towards the bathroom to wash out his hair. He took a shower, emerging a short time later with the ends of his curls now a bright shade of red. 

“Not too bad!” He smiled in the mirror. 

“Oh my god!” I stumbled to my feet, walking towards him. 

“What?!” He immediately tried to look at the back of his head. I reached him and grabbed his arm.

“Adam, Eve and Steve?!” I laughed at the tattoo on his shoulder. He stilled for a moment under my touch. “I love that!” 

Until now, I hadn’t seen Lee shirtless. Not that I thought it was a big deal, but it let me find my new favorite tattoo of his. I could guess that it was a jab at sexuality, his or otherwise, but it was funny. A continuation of the jokes he loved to make. My fingers trailed lightly down his arm, not realizing that I was holding onto him the way I was. I selfishly let my eyes wander over his body, a well healed, but good sized scar on the left side of his chest. A bite. I reached to trace it, stopping when Lee took a deep, shaky breath. 

“Sorry.” I whispered, hands dropping from his body entirely. 

****

I tried desperately to peel my eyes open, the sun pouring into the room was overwhelming. There was rustling beside me, Lee was peeking out the window again. I watched him, assuming he didn’t know I was awake. This was quickly becoming my favorite way to pass the time. 

“You could take a picture, it would last longer.” He smiled, looking at me over his shoulder. 

“Sorry,” I yawned, looking around the room. Lee’s bed hardly looked slept in, or on. I worried that he had spent the whole night in front of that window. 

I stumbled to my feet, crossing the room without an ounce of grace in my body. Oh, the irony. I smiled at the new red strands in my hair. I quite liked them, actually. Not to sound all metaphorical and english-teacher like, but it felt like something that sort of…tied…Lee and I together. One in the same, but still different. 

“We should go, when you’re ready.” Lee spoke, standing behind me and pulling me from my thoughts. 

We only had a few short hours until we got to Lee’s house, nothing in comparison to the hours we had put in over the last two weeks. I was worried that things would be awkward, or that he would bring up the small moment we shared last night, but he didn’t, and I think I was grateful for that. 

“This is my aunt's house,” he said, pulling into the driveway. “She died a few months ago, so it’s empty. We can stay here. I live just on the other side of that plant, but my mom she’s…” He shook his head and smiled. 

“Say no more!”

“I’m going to go take Kayla driving…hopefully I don’t die!” 

“She can’t be that bad!”

“You’re right, I survived your driving-”

“Lee!” I swatted his chest playfully. 

“Any requests for dinner?”

“Are you cooking?” I raised an eyebrow at him, looking towards the kitchen.

“Absolutely not! But we got about everything in town. Just can’t be seen hanging around…do you need to know why?”

“Nope!”

“So?”

“Surprise me?”

Lee smiled. “Lock the door, keep the lights off! Snoop around if you want, fuck if I care. I’ll see you in a bit! Hopefully!” 

I snooped. I didn’t see any reason not to. It was clear this was something that didn’t bother Lee, he snooped through people’s things all the time- dead people for that matter. The more time I spent with Lee, the more questions I had about being an eater. My mind was still unwavering, there wasn’t a single part of me that wanted to experience any of that for myself, but I had questions nonetheless. I wondered how much Lee would be willing to divulge, if it wasn’t anything “personal.” 

I found a box with old photos and sat on the floor to look through it. These were all strangers, I didn’t recognize anyone in the photos, but they seemed to have a happy life. About halfway through the box I found a photo of a little boy, his smile screamed familiarity. Baby Lee! There was a stack of photos of him at Christmas and his birthday parties, at halloween and on a bike. He didn’t look much older than 10, but after that they stopped. No pictures of him at any other family events, school functions, carnivals…nothing. Maybe it all started around that age. Does his family know? They must know…or they don’t and that’s why he still sees them?

“Gracie!” Lee called from the door. I had lost track of time, the sun was setting and the street lights were coming on. “Food’s getting cold!” 

“How did it go?” I asked, watching him pick at his food. 

“Minimal deaths- could have gone worse.” He smiled. “Actually Kayla-”

There was a loud banging on the door, followed by a woman yelling.

“Lee, I know you’re in there! Open the fucking door.” I looked at Lee who simply rolled his eyes and stood up from the table. “Come on you asshole. Open the goddamn door!”

“Speaking of the devil!" He whispered. "Kayla, fucking chill!” He opened the door and a short girl with bright blonde hair came barreling in, shoving him back until he hit the wall. I stood in the doorway. 

“I found the note you left me, you’re leaving already?!”

“It’s just for a little bit, I’ll be back. Chill!”

“Why the fuck do you do this!” She continued to yell. “You’re just like dad you-” She stopped, finally noticing me. “Who are you?”

“Kayla, this is Gracie. Gracie, this is my sister. Kayla.”

“Hi-”

“Fuck you, Lee!”

“Outside, Kayla.”

“No! You-”

“I wanna talk to you outside.” Lee sighed through gritted teeth. “Please, just go outside.” 

My mind flashed back to the night I met Lee. To the drunk man in the grocery store and everything that followed afterwards. I could hear them arguing outside, but couldn’t make out what was being said. I sat down and waited, not knowing what else to do. 

“Fuck you, Lee!” Kayla yelled, and I could see her storming off towards their house. 

Lee came in, stress and frustration radiating off of him. His body temperature alone raised the temperature in the house a few degrees. He shed the button up he was wearing and I could see him sweating. His sister must really get under his skin. Either that, or just being back here was a lot. His leg bounced restlessly as he sat and tried to steady his breathing. 

“I think we should go…” he sighed. “She’s probably going to tell my mom I’m here and I just…I don’t want to deal with that right now, you know.” 

Dinner was abandoned, Lee grabbed a few things from the house and we set off once again. His knuckles were white as he gripped the steering wheel, sitting idol in the driveway for a moment. I slid closer to him, hand resting on his. 

“It’s okay,” I tried to sound reassuring. “Siblings are supposed to get under your skin.”

Lee chucked softly, relaxing his shoulders. “Can we make another stop? Before we go?” 

“Of course.”

We drove to the far part of town, to a slaughterhouse. Lee smiled, parking the truck and turning off the lights. 

“What are we…”

“I used to work here over the summers. I wanna show you something.”

I followed him, over fences and railings and through doors. Lee knew this place like the back of his hand. He didn’t seem worried about getting caught. I guess there was only one security guard and he was old. ‘Deaf in both ears,’ as Lee put it when I asked. We ran down a few dark hallways until we reached a cafeteria. 

“Lee?”

“I can’t get into the safe, but they keep petty cash in the lockbox. Stand guard?” He ran through the back, returning a moment later with a good size stack of money and handed it to me. “You’re the bank.” He smiled breathlessly. 

“Is this what you wanted to show me?”

“Of course not! Come on.” He grabbed my hand and we were off again.

In the back of the plant there was soft music playing, and the distinct sound of cows. It was sad to think about, but otherwise peaceful. We climbed to the top of the walkway and sat, our feet dangling over an empty pen. 

“I used to hide up here a lot.” Lee smiled, looking around. I could see why. 

Comfortable silence. 

“What’s on your mind?” 

“Hmm?”

“You look like you wanna say something- ask something, so speak.” 

“You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to…” 

“Deal.”

“What’s it like?”

“To work here?”

“No,” I laughed, picking at the skin around my nails. “Eating…to have to do the things you do.”

“I guess I don’t really have a choice, do I?”

“I wouldn’t know…”

“It’s kind of like predator versus prey meets natural selection. I can’t speak for other eaters, and maybe your mom did it differently…but for me…I try to only pick the people who aren’t worth saving.”

“Saving?”

“Yeah. Like the guy in the grocery store when we first met? No one’s gonna miss him.” Lee laughed. “Only men, not married, no kids…”

I nodded. There seemed to be a method to who Lee “picked.” It wasn’t just a random, spur of the moment decision, but something he calculated meticulously in his mind. He didn’t want to hurt anyone- he didn’t want someone’s wife waiting for him at home, or some kids wondering where their dad was. Lee was kind like that- if there was a way to be kind in all of this. 

My hand found Lee’s, lacing our fingers together carefully as I found the courage to ask the next question. He seemed to sense this, and squeezed my hand gently.

“Do you remember your first time?”

“Yeah, it was with this girl when I was like 16? She was hot-”

“Lee!” I laughed, leaning into his shoulder.

“I was…10? Maybe? I don' t even remember if that was the first, but it's the first I remember. It was a babysitter. I don’t remember why I did it, or how it started…but I remember feeling this kind of rush- the blood vessels popping you know. I felt like a superhero. Until it was over anyway. I remember knowing what I did was wrong, but I wasn’t sorry…if that makes sense. I think I was upset that it was a girl.” Lee sighed, “I liked her too- she was good with kids!”

“So, do your parents know?”

“My dad does. He's one too, but I didn’t know it at the time. He umm,” He reached for the scar on his face, stopping himself and hoping I didn’t see. I did. “He made sure I wasn’t going to tell anyone. And I didn’t. For 12 years.” He smiled at me before chewing on his bottom lip. 

I let go of Lee’s hand, offering him my other one as I reached up to card my fingers through his hair. I tucked a few pieces behind his ear before he finally looked at me with the softest expression I had ever seen on a person. 

“Do you think I’m a bad person?” he spoke, barely above a whisper. I smiled but shook my head. 

“No, I don’t think you’re a bad person.”

My fingers rested on the back of his neck, eyes glancing between his and his lips. I pulled him gently towards me, waiting for a sign of protest. There wasn’t one. It felt like an eternity before his lips ghosted against mine, the faint smell of his last cigarette on his breath. He was…intoxicating. I gave him one final tug towards me and with it, time stopped. He kissed with such caution and softness. Nothing was rushed or ravishing and breathless. I supposed I had expected something more, but found myself much preferring this than the visions I had of how this was going to happen. 

Everything I knew about him, and all that I thought I knew came to life in that kiss. I wanted this feeling for the rest of my life-

Oh, shit!

Lee pulled away, his forehead resting on mine, eyes still closed. I didn’t have to look at him to see the smile on his face. I could feel it radiating off of his body. Our fingers were still intertwined, squeezing each other carefully. There was a loud ‘moo’ from one of the cows below us, causing both of us to jump slightly. He groaned, staring at the ceiling for a moment as if trying to commit this to memory. 

“We should go,” he finally sighed. 

“Where to next?”

[loganlostitall]

10 Questions Game

Tagged by: @murdadixon 🙄🖤

1. What is your phone background?

Lock screen - Negan Smith

Home screen - Andy Biersack

2. Who is your favorite singer?

My favorite stand-alone singer is probably Post Malone but this is such a difficult question. I know this wasn’t asked but my favorite rapper is, without contest, Eminem. Always has been, always will be. Yk who’s growing on me as a singer, though? Ricky Montgomery. He’s slowly climbing my Top Listened!

3. Favorite Band?

Also difficult. I love so many. I’m currently hyper-fixated on Black Veil Brides once again, for the millionth time, so I will tentatively list them as my favorite band for now with the begrudged knowledge that this answer is subject to change at any time. I have been listening religiously for a decade, though.

4. Who is your favorite character of all time?

I hate you for asking me this! I have so many favorites but after sitting here and grueling over an answer, I have decided that it’s an impossible call-off between MCU Thor and Lip Gallagher. I have characters that I love a whole lot and go in and out of having a special interest on, such as Spider-Man, Batman, Deadpool, Moon Knight, Jason Todd, but they’re not at the top. I can’t even say that my current favorite character is actually my favorite character because I’d be lying. But my favorite character as of right now is Negan.

5. What is your favorite book?

The Outsiders by S.E. Hinton. Until the day I die. I read it and it completely changed my life, seeing a book with stories so similar to how I’d grown up. I wrote passively, as an interest, but after reading this in 2 days (when I was supposed to read it with the class over the course of a month) I decided then and there that I wanted to actually become an author.

6. What is your favorite movie?

It’s been Avatar by James Cameron for almost 14 years now, since the day it first came out, but I think that the original Scream is finally starting to try and take its place as my fave. I suppose we shall see! 😩

7. Favorite Actor or Actress?

Ummmm, shit. Can’t choose. Jeremy Allen White, Chris Hemsworth, Matthew Lillard, Evan Peters. It’s an extensive list but they’re the ones who come to mind first. A lot of my favorites have already passed, like Heath Ledger, Chadwick Boseman, Robin Williams, Cameron Boyce, Angus Cloud, etc.

8. Favorite YouTuber?

I don’t really watch YouTube anymore—in fact I never got into YouTuber’s the way everyone else my age did, so all I can tell you is that Dan and Phil were the only people I watched on YT when I was younger. I think a little tiny bit of their gay rubbed off on me 🤔

9. Do you drink?

Errrmmmm. Not often. I used to drink way too much as a teenager and had a problem so now I really only do it if there’s some kind of occasion. Scared for my 21st birthday in November if I’m tbh with y’all.

10. If you were an animal, what would you be?

A few of my friends and I came to the conclusion that I’m a raccoon, but that I shouldn’t say that because it would be too easy for ppl to call me a POC slur (I’m Mixed) and I thought that was hysterical LMAO iykyk

Tagging @hopefulatrocity @lanadelnegan and @sonsofnight y’all are legit my only Tumblr friends

[ipsen]

Blank Canvas, Chapter 3

Some CW that you can, well, see: gore, blood

Read on AO3

Summary: Kaneki’s interview isn’t quite over yet.

Word count: 4362

Chapter 4 Chapter 2 Master Post

“Eyes, like tainted diamonds, cross the expanse. They pierce inky tendrils of hair, reaching out for something they will never have. Grasp, miss, grasp. Like children swiping at the ceiling. Delicate fingers dig into their master’s scalp, and they fabricate a mockery of reality with the blood. A third option to escape memories and reality both. ‘Foolish,’ they all think. ‘Meaningless. Worthless.’ Yet they do not stop. They reach out and fabricate and dream. Spilling wine can still be beautiful.”

— excerpt from Sen Takatsuki’s notebook

———

This world is…

Flashes of red and blue lit the dark alleyway. Glimpses of the scene were made plain for moments at a time.

A body, slumped against the wall.

Bloody hands.

A body, halfway in the dumpster. Broken. Stomach sliced open.

Guts, guts, guts, blood, torn, bleeding.

What had she done?

Whimpering noises. Trash, trash, trash. Fool.

Cuts. Bruises. Sobs. The overwhelming silence left behind when screams died.

“Papa…?”

Footsteps. Sirens.

“We have eyes on the target.”

“Papa, wake up! We— We have to go—”

“Hands up!!”

Too late.

“Are you deaf?! I said hands up!!!”

“But—!”

“We’ve got a teenager covered in blood at the scene. Taking into custody now.”

“Wait, no, y-you don’t understand—!”

“Hands. Up!!”

“I— Shit, I—!”

Hands stronger than hers gripped her wrists. Something pushed her against the wall and bruised her skull against the cold, wet surface. She begged, she screamed, and it only made it worse.

Blinding lights, shifting bars, glares that told her she was wrong. Her actions were wrong. Choosing to live was wrong. Choices were wrong. Everything about her was—

… wrong.

———

“Takatsuki, um…” Kaneki said carefully, trailing behind the green storm that was his companion. She had a surprisingly fast gait, now that he was actually walking with her for once; then again, Ayato, the late bloomer that he was, had been the same way.

“Yes, Haise?” She took a bit to glance behind at him.

“I don’t want to be rude, but where are you taking me?” Kaneki gestured behind him. “We passed by the terminal to Shoeisha a while ago…”

He had assumed that to be their destination after the park. That was what she meant by ‘ironing out the hiring process’, right? He’d finally meet Mr. Shiono, Takatsuki’s boss, and some other people, then they would get started, right? So where exactly—

“I know, and we will go there,” Takatsuki assured him with a smile. “But I have a friend I want you to meet first.”

‘Friend’? Well, he supposed it made sense; maybe it was a fellow author? A coworker? Takatsuki’s social life was a complete mystery, so it could be anyone, really. He just hoped it was someone he could get along with. That shouldn’t be too much to ask.

“I texted him ahead of time to let him know we were coming.” She marched ahead, leaving Kaneki to chase after her. “We have a reservation at White Blades, if that’s okay with you?”

He tilted his head. That… was a seafood restaurant in the 18th ward, if he remembered correctly. Highly reviewed, too, if a little niche. “I’ve, um, never been, actually,” he admitted. “So yes…?”

She beamed. “Great! Come on. They serve a mean lobster stew.”

He wet his lips at the prospect, and hoped he would agree; if her friend wasn’t the best, then at least the food would be good. 

There was a bit more eagerness to his gait as she led him to their destination. He hadn’t had lobster in a while; it was way too expensive, usually, and he couldn’t tell Hide that he was craving it because then he’d just pay for it. Kaneki didn’t like the idea of someone else paying for his own meal.

Speaking of— “Takatsuki.”

“Hm?”

“Um, I’ll pay for my share of the meal.”

He expected some form of token resistance, but he didn’t expect her to laugh at him. “No, you won’t. You don’t seem like you go outside a lot, so I’d feel bad if you didn’t get a free meal out of being out all day.”

“B-But I—”

She turned on him and stuck her hand out. His chest bumped into it, making him stop. “You won’t,” she repeated. “Your friend, Hide, was kind enough to tell me about your financial situation. Not a single yen’s leaving that wallet of yours, got it?”

When had Hide gotten— He must have memorized the number last week when Kaneki handed him her card. He sighed, nodding in defeat. He was so useless compared to someone like her, huh? Can’t even pay for his own meals.

But before he could truly spiral, Takatsuki sighed too. “Alright, why don’t we make a deal?”

He tilted his head. “What kind of deal?”

She folded her arms and looked around, her body language shifting from that of a free bird to something a bit more caged. She took a deep breath, and didn’t reply immediately. Kaneki shuffled his feet, keenly aware of the unpopulated street they were on. He thumbed the strap of his satchel, as the distant sound of the train they would have taken to Shoeisha sounded its whistle.

“How about this,” she spoke slowly, way slower than he was used to, “once Shoeisha starts paying you…”

She trailed off. His brow furrowed as her hands steepled around her nose and mouth, hiding her expression. What kind of deal was— She suddenly balled up her fists and turned around.

“Actually, never mind!” she declared a little too loudly. “We’ll be late; my friend doesn’t like to be kept waiting!”

Before he could ask her anything else, she took off, forcing him to chase after.

—

The White Blades restaurant was the result of a merger between two local businesses, the White Suits and Triple Blades, following the untimely passing of the White Suits founder, Yakumo Oomori. His successor, Naki, and Miza Kusakari, the owner of the Triple Blades, fell in love, and the rest was history.

“Miza’s a good friend of mine,” Takatsuki explained as she opened the door. “And Naki’s a total sweetheart, if a little rough around the edges, so I can always snag a table even on their busiest days.”

It was getting close to dinner time, so the place was healthily packed. People from all walks of life gathered under the medium sized roof, crowding around bar set-ups, tables, and booths alike as their conversations bled into one another to create a melting pot of senseless noise. The day’s gossip, family troubles, tragedies, joys, secret outings, not-so-secret outings— the oscillating states of the world could always converge in a conflagration of colors around the one thing anyone could enjoy: food.

Kaneki felt cramped. He was never good with crowds, and even following Sen Takatsuki into this place didn’t change that fact. People were just so loud, and talkative, and they stared. Sometimes it was intentional, other times it wasn’t, but Kaneki despised it all the same. Being seen meant people expecting things of you, after all, and he often felt he could provide nothing.

He stayed close to Takatsuki, trying to fight those thoughts off for once, and scanned the tables with her. Near the back, there was a particularly tall, pale man in a white trench coat seated at one of the tables, with stark white hair, narrow eyes, and a scarlet face mask. It seemed like he was looking right at them, and Kaneki prayed to any god that would listen that the man was not Takatsuki’s friend.

Takatsuki shot her hand up in the air and waved. “Tatara! Hey!”

Well, to be fair, Kaneki had never been the religious type.

“Sen,” the man greeted in a deep voice when they approached. Great. “I assume that’s your artist?”

“Yes!” Her hand— it was softer than the last time. Was that lotion?— gripped Kaneki’s wrist and dragged him to her side. “This is Haise! Haise, this is Tatara!”

Tatara rose slowly from his seat, holding out his hand. “A pleasure,” he greeted, though his tone suggested anything but. It was like ice, if Kaneki was being honest; the way Tatara stared down at him with his rigid posture that made sure Kaneki knew that he was the shorter one told him a lot. Too much, if he wanted to be honest.

He just nodded and shook Tatara’s hand without a sound. He winced slightly at the force of the grip, but bore it while Takatsuki was there.

“Tatara and I go way back,” she explained to him. “He’s part of the Chì Shé Theater Company! He’s one of their lighting directors, so sometimes I’ll go to him to see if something of mine’s ‘visual’ enough.”

Kaneki had heard of Chì Shé. They were one of the bigger names in theater, but Kaneki wasn’t familiar enough with them, preferring the structure of books and comics to the ones offered by scripts.

“I-It’s an honor,” he managed, thinking it an apt statement. It wasn’t every day he met someone like this.

Tatara practically scoffed as he took his seat.

“Oh, I gotta use the bathroom,” Takatsuki said, palms pressed together in apology. “Tatara, get me the usual?”

‘Usual’? They came here together? And often? Alone— shut up, creep.

“Of course.” Tatara’s voice, which had been like ice against his skin until that point, suddenly became smooth velvet.

Ah. Well, then.

But, if Kaneki was right about this, then why did Takatsuki bring him along? This had to be related to work, right? Maybe a second opinion of him personality-wise? It had merit. Kaneki barely knew her, after all, and he knew Tatara even less. Given how far this meeting was going— He should just take a seat.

He set his bag down near his chair, making sure to entwine his leg with the strap so it wasn’t an easy grab. Glancing up at Tatara, Kaneki noticed his gaze lingering on Takatsuki as she weaved through the crowd toward the bathroom.

Ah.

That look reminded Kaneki of a time he’d rather forget. Hide would tease him all the time about how stupid he looked staring at that head of violet hair from afar. And Touka— Ugh, Touka was so terrible about it. She hadn’t yet experienced the hellhole that was college as a biology major, so in her attempt to dissuade him from persuading, she’d accidentally done the opposite. Then again, he was often caught up in his own mind and assumptions about others, as she would never tire of telling him. He shuddered to think where he might be without that revelation.

Tatara sat down, and the squeak of the leather brought Kaneki out of his thoughts.

“So, um—” Kaneki began. Maybe Tatara wasn’t as bad as his demeanor suggested; he certainly had a soft spot somewhere. Touka and Ayato hadn’t been very sociable, either, when they first met.

“You’re the twelfth one.” Tatara cut him off.

“I-I’m sorry?”

“You’re the twelfth artist she’s brought,” he clarified, scowling. “Do you know what that means?”

Kaneki pursed his lips, looking anywhere except at Tatara; regardless of his answer, he was going to be told anyway. “Er…”

“Eleven artists that are better than you have failed.” Ah, so that’s how this was going to go. “Eleven artists with industry experience. Eleven artists with proper published work.”

A waiter— a large individual in the restaurant’s signature white suit— brought three glasses of water to them and menus. Tatara, as though a switch had been flipped, was kind and accommodating toward them, before going right back to glaring— squinting? No, no, he was definitely glaring— at Kaneki once they were gone.

“So, Haise Sasaki—” the way Tatara said it made it sound like an insult— “what makes you think you can compete with them? Actually, what makes you think you’re better than them? What do you have that they don’t?”

Kaneki looked down, unable to answer, because Tatara was right. What did separate him from actual, experienced professionals? His art was middling at best, and it wasn’t like his commissioners had large social media presences either. So what elevated him above others so that Sen Takatsuki wanted to work with him?

Tatara clicked his tongue in the silent noise. “This is ridiculous,” he muttered, opening the menu. “Why’d you even come here?”

Kaneki froze. Him, not Tatara. Why did he, Ken Kaneki, come to this restaurant? Well, because Takatsuki asked him to— That wasn’t the question. This was Tatara, Takatsuki’s friend, here, talking about previous candidates, meaning he was informed about the situation. He was her accomplice in the search for an artist.

Kaneki was still being interviewed.

Tatara’s question was deeper than a simple ‘why’; he wanted to know the factors that led Kaneki to making the choices he did that put him in this moment. Why Kaneki thought that, however small the chance, he, of all people, could be a good fit to write a story alongside Sen Takatsuki. What sparked that feeling? What pushed him forward through the doors of that coffee shop?

What drove him?

His fingers brushed against his satchel, where the sketch of Takatsuki lay unseen by the rest of the world. They then tightened around the bag as he built his resolve for the hundredth time that week.

“I’ve always been inspired by her— Takatsuki, I mean,” he answered carefully and evenly. “I want to return her kindness for giving me the chance to make something with her, and I want to make sure that she doesn’t regret it. And, if someone like me can be inspired by her, I think about how many more people she has yet to inspire with this next work. If she thinks I’m the one to illustrate her story, then I have to believe it.”

Tatara’s eyebrow raised ever so slightly as he listened, but before he could respond, the large waiter from before came back and asked for their order. Kaneki scrambled to look at the menu while Tatara ordered first.

“A-And a lobster steak,” Kaneki said just in time. “Er, stew! Lobster stew, sorry.”

Tatara rolled his eyes while the waiter walked away. After a moment, he spoke. “What’s your handle?”

Kaneki tilted his head slightly. “You… mean online?”

“No, I mean—” He huffed, and took out a sleek black phone. “I want to see your work.”

“Oh, of course! My handle is—”

At least he hadn’t asked for Kaneki’s sketchbook; the satchel was kind of a dead giveaway. The last thing he needed was for Tatara to start asking why Takatsuki’s face from all angles was plastered all over the pages.

Where was she, anyway? Was she okay? He couldn’t exactly check, but hopefully it was just trouble with the bowels…

Kaneki glanced back at Tatara, who seemed to have found his online portfolio. He scrolled… a lot faster than Kaneki thought he would. Takatsuki had taken the time to admire his work while Tatara seemed to be skimming it at best. It must have been that business mindset, Kaneki thought: he wasn’t looking at quality or heart, but rather how eye-catching it could be, as well as how quickly it could be replicated.

Or maybe he was completely wrong and Tatara was just fast at analysis.

“I see.” Tatara put his phone away and folded his arms.

Kaneki pursed his lips, twiddling his thumbs. Okay… Was that it?

A few moments passed. Then some more. Someone in the back of the kitchen dropped something, and it shattered. Some heads turned, including Kaneki’s, but not Tatara. The moment passed.

“Um, Tatara?” Kaneki said, treading cautiously. “Have you… read Takatsuki’s works?”

Tatara raised a brow again. “I have…”

Okay, great, common ground! “W-Which one’s your favorite?”

“… Industrial.”

“Oh, her fourth work! I like that one too.” Kaneki gave his best smile. “I got into literature through mysteries myself, so I was ecstatic when she released one! My favorite one, though, is—”

He stopped, however, when he saw Takatsuki suddenly slide back into her seat, silent as a mouse. He noticed she’d undone her braid, and now her wavy green locks fell freely in a chaotic harmony of curls and tangles around her face. His breath hitched at the sight, and Tatara’s grip on his sleeve tightened.

She glanced between the pair, either unaware of or indifferent to the change in atmosphere brought by her presence.

“Well?” She settled on Kaneki, grinning. “Don’t leave him in suspense.”

“I-I—” he stammered. “I, um, well, you see, m-my—”

He was saved by the sound of footsteps and the smell of a freshly made lobster stew, and yet he didn’t feel saved, even as his mouth watered while he stirred the soup. He felt her still watching him as he did so, and only felt shame for his own embarrassment.

He screwed his eyes shut. “My favorite one is Dear Kafka.”

A knowing smile crossed Takatsuki’s face, hidden from Tatara. It was almost like a secret between her and Kaneki, and his stomach lurched at the prospect.

Tatara just hummed. “I see,” he uttered, squashing the conversation flat.

She rolled her eyes. “He’s always been like that,” she whispered to Kaneki conspiratorially, though probably loud enough for Tatara to hear. Not that he seemed to care. “He takes a lot in, but not a lot gets out, you know what I mean?”

A cursed memory of fleeting violet hair crossed Kaneki’s mind. “I know the type,” he replied just as low.

She giggled, delighted in his participation, and was about to say something else, but Tatara interrupted.

“Sen,” he said. “Wanna tell him why he’s here?”

Her eyes shut, and she slowly turned toward him, her expression unseen.

“Because this is another interview?” Kaneki blurted without thinking. He covered his mouth immediately. “Sorry…”

Takatsuki turned back to him, eyes shining with that implicit praise he was beginning to crave. “Oh, you figured it out?”

“I-It’s not that amazing…” He scratched his cheek. “Mr. Tatara was… very honest about his intentions.”

“We can drop the pretense, then,” Tatara spoke, drawing Kaneki’s attention again. “Yes, Sen wanted a second opinion on you, and I’m the one she goes to for such things. Shiono picks out the ones for Takatsuki to meet, and then she brings them to me for further evaluation beyond her own.”

Kaneki glanced at Takatsuki, who was unashamedly digging into her order of lobster stew. With her free hand, she picked up the instant ramen Tatara had gotten her for her side and plunged it into the soup. Kaneki quickly realized that Tatara hadn’t ordered a dish for himself; both plates had been for her.

Tatara continued as though she wasn’t there. “The work you’ll be illustrating has been ‘finished’ for the past two years, did you know that?” Kaneki was barely given an opportunity to shake his head. “Of course you didn’t. And yet she’s still looking for an artist to transform it into something beyond words on a page. Do you know what that means?”

Kaneki furrowed his brow, confused. “That… it’s important…?”

“That it’s important,” Tatara emphasized, as though Kaneki were completely clueless (which, arguably, he was). “The artist that illustrates the story will either make or break it. I’m here to make sure the former happens.”

Takatsuki stirred the noodles now that they were softened by the soup, humming an unfamiliar song. She’d also gotten a plate of miniature takoyaki that she was devouring like chips from a bag. Kaneki waited for her to say something whenever she swallowed, but no such thing came.

“If you’re chosen,” Tatara’s voice commanded Kaneki’s gaze once more, “you will be responsible for the enjoyment of tens of thousands of readers, old and new, for years to come. The first thing they will see will be your art next to Sen’s name.”

Kaneki thought about it. His art, never even printed except online, suddenly on a bookshelf in his local bookstore.

Almost a Masterpiece, Except for One Problem Written by: Sen Takatsuki, Best-selling Author Illustrated by: Haise Sasaki, Loser Nerd and the Problem

It certainly put things into perspective. Kaneki had been so focused on creating and the fact that it would be a job, he hadn’t even considered the prospect of selling. Would he have to draw extra art for marketing? Was there a marketing team he’d have to consult with? More people like Tatara? He seemed to know his way around a business, and given how this ‘conversation’ had been going for the past few minutes, Kaneki was disinclined to believe Tatara wanted to work with the likes of him.

And who would want to work with him? Taking a chance on a fresh face, especially when such a high-profile figure like Takatsuki was involved, was unrealistic because of the risk. The newbie had no experience, so training might be in order, and training meant time, and time was better spent making money. Time was money. Money was time.

His expression must have said a thousand damning words in his place, because Tatara stood up and fished around in one of his coat pockets. “Alright, I’ve said my piece.” He pulled out a wad of cash and set it on the table. “For dinner, Sen.”

Takatsuki gave a thumbs up in his general direction, too busy slurping her ramen to do anything else. Tatara waited for her to finish, but when she burped out loud, he just turned and left.

Kaneki stared at the tall white figure, a hole in his stomach. He completely blew it. Any minute now, Takatsuki was going to break the news: factoring in Tatara’s eye-opening questions, she could not, in fact, be seen in public with him ever again. A week of being strung along by strings fashioned of his hopes and dreams, only for the cruel scissors of fate to cut them down to his fingers.

He scooped up a spoonful of soup, then dropped it into the bowl as he sighed. He wasn’t that hungry anymore. He was better off starving anyway; justice demanded proper punishment for the sin of hubris.

Meanwhile, Takatsuki dabbed at her mouth with a napkin, having finished her meal. “I’m sorry about that, Haise,” she said, sighing. “Tatara’s a lot, as I’m sure you know by now.”

“N-No, it’s okay…” he mumbled back, shuffling in his seat and blinking back the tears pricking the corner of his eyes. “He made a lot of good points…”

“Is that what you think?” She paused to look at him.

“Well… I never even considered the business side of it.” He took a drink of water to reorient himself. “I let my excitement cloud my judgment, when I should have done something to try and circumvent it, see the bigger picture. Instead, I—”

“Haise.” Takatsuki put up her hand to stop him. “Tell me: why do you create art?”

Kaneki blinked, forcing down a kneejerk spark of hope.

“Is it because you want to sell your art?”

He shook his head. Hide had been the one to suggest opening commissions. And while the extra cash was nice, that wasn’t the reason Kaneki continued to keep slots open.

“Is it because you’re following a trend?”

He shook his head again. He didn’t even know what trends were going on at the moment. Even if he did, he wouldn’t dare follow them unless they were his own interests: a matter of coincidence.

Takatsuki’s eyes glinted with familiar curiosity as she put her chin between the valley of her knuckles. “Then why?”

He pursed his lips and answered honestly. “Because I want to.”

He wanted to put his feelings into his art. He wanted to tell a story through his art. He wanted to create. He wanted to get better. He wanted to work on bigger things not for the sake of money, but to challenge himself. Better himself. He wanted to keep moving forward with this useless, stupid career that he had a knack for. He wanted this.

Takatsuki grinned. “And that’s why I’m hiring you. You’re passionate, intelligent, and your art is stunning. I don’t want all that skill to go to waste without doing something about it.”

It was the highest praise he could receive. Kaneki didn’t know whether to cry or laugh or blush or all three. Just a week ago, he was practically nobody, and now Sen Takatsuki wanted to work with him. 

But he had another question. “What about Tatara, though? He said—”

“Is Tatara the one writing the story?”

“No…”

“Then there we go. No problem.” She leaned back in her chair, hands tucked behind her head. “Shiono’s the one who technically hires you on paper, but you’re drawing my work, so it won’t be an issue.”

Kaneki imagined Shiono to be a much easier coworker than Tatara, based on that.

“Oh, and one more thing—” Takatsuki leaned forward to whisper to him— “that story Tatara mentioned being done? I’m scrapping it.”

Kaneki blinked. “What?! B-But— All that hard work—”

“Oh, I’ll keep it on the backburner probably, but for this graphic novel, I have a new story in mind.” She grinned. “You wanted to create something together, right? It’s hard to do that if you’re drawing something with only my words on the page.”

It was sound logic, but— “Why? I really don’t mind not working on the script…” It was an honor just working with her, let alone actually having any input at all.

She took off her glasses, folded them, and tucked them away into a case from her bag. Her eyes were even prettier beneath the lenses, Kaneki thought. They were more like jades than emeralds, now that he looked at them— a darker, deeper color, like lakes under the moon versus the sun.

She rested her cheek in her hand, head tilted so that her hair fell over her shoulders. Clumps and curls of varying, imperfect lengths. Natural chaos, he idly thought, truly like the storm of energy she already radiated. Something that swept through the area, scooping up the strays, all the while completely indifferent.

“I’ve been inspired,” she stated simply, with a smile as soft as velvet.

[tongue-like-a-razor]

You know, I love that between Bradley and Sydney, everything is slow and leisurely as they interact without being a couple. I'm never opposed to a sweet, passionate romance where everything happens fast, where they're acquaintances who move on to lovers, in fact they're my first choice, people who know me on Tumblr know that's the way it is. But sometimes it's nice to see burn-slow stories (that's how I see Bradley and Sydney) where we're seeing two people who "met" (since they had known each other when they were very young) by chance and are learning to interact as friends. While dealing with the fact that they have a person who "brings them together" (Mav) in some way, but, who they both know is not an easy person to deal with. I just hope that Amelia and Pete work it out once and for all and are together once and for all. They're too old and have an adult daughter to keep playing the role of carefree teenagers who have just discovered love for the first time and are going through their first breakup (sorry if I sound too harsh, that's just the way I see it, I don't mean to be rude). PS: I never drink alcohol even at the end of the year parties, because I don't like the smell of alcoholic beverages, but, I'm curious to know what a Bloody Mary is. Dude, that stuff should be on top of a pizza and not a drink. I think that's what I would use a Bloody Mary to try to get someone's hangover out.

Hey!! Thank you so much for this in-depth analysis! I loved reading it 🥰

So, the slooowwww burn 🤭 I’m very partial to the slow burn but, in this story, it’s slower than I usually go for. And I think it’s just the nature of the characters involved here. Bradley (in this story) is too busy fighting an internal battle to really give it his all with Sydney. And I think he’s aware of this and sort of hoping that, with time, he might get over her without needing to put himself out there. Sydney obviously was interested in Bradley, but she’s not the type of girl to sit around and wait. And although they are exploring and attempting a friendship, there are definitely unexpressed thoughts and resentments toward one another that they are keeping to themselves (at least for now).

And about Mav and Amelia! I would have to disagree with you on this one (but I 100% respect your opinion). The thing is, I think it’s easy to forget that older adults can have a hard time dealing with emotions just like the rest of us. Especially if they never truly learned to process them throughout their life. Sure, they have more experience because they’ve had more time to practice, but if they’ve been doing it in unhealthy ways their entire lives, that’s not going to suddenly change when they age. So, should Mav and Amelia get their shit together? Probably. Will they? Probably not. And I don’t think it’s necessarily fair to judge them for this. Additionally, experiencing trauma can also contribute to difficulties with emotional processing.

And it really doesn’t matter whether or not they have a kid because that has no bearing on their emotions. They’re still allowed to feel and act on their feelings whether they are parents or not. I don’t think that we should invalidate their emotions and hesitations simply because they have an adult kid. People don’t stop being human after they become parents. You might expect them to regulate their emotions better because of higher maturity levels and a sense of responsibility, but we shouldn’t expect them to not feel the effects of reuniting with an old flame or struggling to deal with resurfacing feelings. That’s not easy no matter what age you are.

And the bloody mary!! I highly recommend 🤣 You can get a virgin Bloody Mary if you don’t want alcohol in it but truthfully, with all the other flavors, you don’t smell or taste the alcohol at all! And you know what? I bet it would be the perfect hangover drink. Make it a double for me 😆

[ratttoro]

heres a more vent-y post about ageism cuz y’all are pissing me tf off. (side note, maybe read the whole post before deciding that i just hate teenagers and want them all to suffer).

teenagers seriously need to stop acting as if they are oppressed. you aren’t. you are disrespected/somewhat disregarded in society which is something i’ve been saying but to take it up a notch and compare it to oppression is exactly why there’s so many people who are preaching that teens shouldn’t be online/aren’t mature enough to make their own decisions.

there are laws out there to protect you because we’ve all been there, we all know what its like, we all want you to succeed. youth is one of the only things every human being on this earth experiences, and wishes they could go back and change. there are evil ass motherfuckers out there who want to hurt you, who want to take advantage of you and your naïveté, who want you to believe that you’re more mature than your parents/teachers tell you and that they’re all just holding you back, but good news: there are also people out there that want every single one of those motherfuckers to rot in a jail cell and tons of people who dedicate their entire lives to doing so. thats oppression to you? because you can’t vote at 15 fucking years old? because the teachers don’t want you vaping in the bathroom? get a fucking grip oh my god. you are more privileged as a teenager than you’ll ever be in your entire life.

if you seriously cannot even FATHOM why someone might not want a teenager in their space, to interact with their account, or to have the liberty of making every single decision for themselves, ya aren’t as mature as yer thinking ya are, bud.

even as a teen, it was never hard for me to just respect the fact that some spaces weren’t made for me, and there were valid reasons as to why. (i was a teen like two years ago and technically still am so dont start with that “well things are different now!” bullshit.)

teens aren’t allowed in adult spaces because adults are unpredictable, and no matter how many times you wanna shout that teens are capable of being mature and responsible, most teens are naïve as fuck because most of y’all have 0 life skills yet. once again, if you did have life skills you would probably understand why there are so many things in place to FUCKING PROTECT YOU GUYS.

it’s so frustrating that teenagers are trying to push away everything thats keeping them safe because “erm actually teenagers are a lot smarter than you think!” just because you read Frankenstein does not mean you’re immune to grooming and sex trafficking.

i agree that teens deserve to be respected and their opinions deserve to be heard, but no, sorry, y’all definitely should not be in adult spaces (rather the spaces dangerous or not, some people just don’t want minors around and this type of shit makes me completely understand why).

stop preaching literal groomer language at teenagers AS A TEENAGER. what the fuck! you’re destroying yourselves and forcing everyone else to watch. i’ve seen multiple cases of rape, grooming, abuse, etc, that wouldn’t have gotten recognized as such had the victim not been a minor. stop actively trying to make things worse for yourself. once you grow up, there will be no more people fighting for you. there will be no protection. there will be no more using your age as an excuse. like i said earlier, get a fucking grip.

and ik that teens have been saying the same bullshit reworded for centuries, but it gets more concerning when people are essentially saying “teenager? psssh they’re practically an adult!” and it blows my mind that people cant see why.

[artistic-intrxvert]

!!TW: vent (you can keep scrolling, I just needed to put this somewhere where I will forget about it after I get it off my chest and it will make me feel better)

Sometimes I wonder how my life would be right now if I had gone against certain decisions, you know? I’m almost always certain about something once I think about it for a while but it’s always after I make said decision that I feel like I continue to make more mistakes. I’m indecisive and I cannot understand how my own mind thinks, yet others read me well. I want to be able to go back and fix my mistakes but we all know that’s impossible. Even if it was, it wouldn’t mean that everything would be totally fine now. For instance; a simple decision of coming out to my parents. I am happy I came out, but also at the same time I wish I never said a fucking word. Sometimes I wish I never even bothered talking to people about how I felt about my identity. I don’t even know how I want to present myself anymore because of how overwhelming gender dysphoria is becoming for me. There are people I wish I told them I loved them and some of which I wish I never said anything. There are times I wish I never went skiing in the first place in 2020, otherwise my dad wouldn’t have nearly died. I wish I could go back stop myself from ever being friends with certain people. I wish I could go back and prevent myself from being yelled at as a child. There are so many things I wish I could do…But even then, life is just going to end up being shitty as always for me so what’s even the point of wondering what I could’ve changed? I’m always quick to move on from things but the second I think I’ve moved on I break down realizing I shouldn’t have even thought about giving up certain hobbies, interests, etc. sometimes I just wish I had someone that was someone I could actually get along with and be able to see all the time. I want a sibling that’ll be there for me rather than tease the shit out of me when I slip up or make fun of me for something that’s out of my control. I want a mother who is accepting instead of one who has made me afraid of expression. I want a father who doesn’t pick favorites and loves his children all equally. I want a friend group who can’t judge me for liking certain hobbies or shows or movies. I want someone who can understand me and whom I can understand in return. But no matter how hard I try to connect with people to heal myself and others, I always end up screwing it up. I want to be a good friend, a good sibling, a good son, a good grandchild, a good nephew…But because nobody has ever been able to show me how to understand things instead of stressing me to figure it out on my own, I haven’t been able to process my own choices or thoughts or feelings. This is why I feel so upset whenever I need to make a choice for something as simple as what I want for dinner. I want to be a great artist but I can’t help but compare myself to others. I want to be a great significant other to someone but I can’t help but always feel like a burden to anyone I ever get close to. I want to be a good son but I can’t ever agree with some things my parents believe or choose to follow in life. I want to be able to pass high school and be able to get a sustainable job and career but how can I even do that when the public school system blames students for not understanding material that they don’t teach? How can anything be fair? Because that’s what it’s like to be a human teenager. You have to do things on your own or you’re not going to survive in the “adult world”, you have to have a passion for something that’s actually worth going to college for rather than what you want to go for, you have to be able to understand people despite not ever knowing yourself at all…

I wish I could take back all of my painful or horrible decisions but unfortunately I can’t do that. I want to be someone that isn’t as over emotional about stupid things such as forgetting something that I was asked to bring with me for some place to telling someone the wrong thing.

If you can relate to this at all, you’re not alone. I, too, am struggling heavily. I may not be able to take the pain away, but I can stay with you as we both go through the pain of living life.