#like i need it it’s not even funny anymore

[aliyahwritings]

THE CONTRACTED HEART — Rafe Cameron (06)

MASTERLIST | Basketball Player & Model!Female Reader

Summary: Rafe Cameron, a basketball star, needs a marriage to fix his image, while Model!Reader needs one for citizenship. They may be the perfect solution for each other.

Warnings: smut, descriptions of violence, jealousy, usage of drugs, talks about body image/ed, angst, and lots of bickering. Reader is confident, a people-pleaser, has a traumatic past, and is a sunshine with an attitude. Rafe is a whore, possessive, cocky, and secretive about his past.

Word Count: 5.3k

Aliyah's Notes: after the calamity of ch5 i present u ch6.... enjoy it. or not. AND IM SORRY FOR THE ENDING 🔥😩😅😨

It's been days. Or weeks? You didn’t even know anymore. The calendar on your phone kept reminding you, but you stopped counting. Maybe if you ignored the world long enough, it’ll forget you existed. Maybe if you stayed in this apartment, you could disappear into these four walls like you were never here in the first place.

Numbers. You used to count them, obsess over them, keep track of every passing hour. But now, time feels... irrelevant. What’s the point of knowing how long you’ve been sinking when no one’s coming to pull you out?

The silence feels... safe. No one to judge you. No one to see the mess you’ve become. It’s funny, though—people always see what they want to see. The headlines called you a goddess, an untouchable force of beauty and success. But what would they say if they knew the truth? That the girl in their glossy magazines could barely stand to look at herself anymore.

You hated this. The lying, the pretending. Nina thought you were just going through a rough patch, but she didn’t know how deep the cracks went. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. You weren’t supposed to be this anymore—broken, fragile, teetering on the edge again. You swore you’d never come back to this place. But it’s funny how easy it is to fall back into old habits, how fast the darkness creeps in when no one’s watching.

No one’s watching.

Maybe that’s for the best. Let them keep seeing the version of you they wanted to see—the confident supermodel, the girl who had it all. Let them believe the lie, because the truth? The truth was ugly. The truth was you’ve been staring at your phone for days, hoping—no, needing—for a message, for something from him.

But nothing.

He was in Missouri. Working, you guessed. You didn’t even know when he was coming back. He didn’t say. 

You hated him for that. But you hated yourself more for caring. For letting him in, even when you knew better. For thinking, for just one second, that maybe—just maybe—there was something real between you, beneath all the lies you told the world.

But none of it was real. Not the dating, not the smiles, not the person they thought you were. You were a fraud. A perfect, golden fraud wrapped up in designer clothes and empty promises. And the worst part was, you were too tired to fight it anymore. Maybe this was who you were now. A girl who hid in her apartment, waiting for the world to forget she existed.

Or maybe it already happened.

The sound of the door creaking open started you, pulling you out of the spiral you’ve been sinking into. You didn’t even need to look up to know who it was. No one else had the key to your apartment beside her.

“Are you kidding me, Y/N?” Nina’s voice cut through the heavy silence like a knife. “This is the third time this week. How long do you think you can keep doing this?”

You didn’t respond.

Nina stromed in, slamming the door behind her, and you heard her heels clacking on the floor as she made her way to the living room. “You’re not answering your phone. You’re not responding to emails. You missed three shoots! People are asking questions, Y/N. What do you think I’m supposed to tell them?”

You stayed silent, curling deeper into the couch. Maybe if you didn’t look at her, she’ll go away. Maybe she’ll finally get the hint that you didn’t want to be saved.

But Nina wasn’t the type to back off. “No,” she snapped. “You don’t get to ignore me, not today. You need to get up. You need to fix this, Y/N. You think you can just hide away forever? Is that the plan? Because let me tell you, honey, the world won’t wait for you to get your shit together.”

She stood in front of you now, hands on her hips, glaring down at you like a disappointed mother. Her usually immaculate hair was slightly disheveled, and you could tell by the tension in her jaw that she’s been worrying. 

“Talk to me, honey,” she said, her voice lower now. “This isn’t you. You don’t just disappear like this. What happened? Is it Rafe? Is it work? Are you back to…” her voice trailed off, but the question hanged in the air, heavy and unspoken. 

You couldn’t look at her. The shame curled in your chest, making in hard to breathe. She didn’t know. She didn’t know how badly you’ve relapsed, how badly everything felt like it was slipping out of control again. And you couldn’t bring yourself to say it. Not to her. Not to anyone.

“When’s the last time you even showered? Eaten something decent? Your career’s on the line. Everything we’ve worked for is on the line. You can’t just… give up like this.”

Her words hit like slaps, each one stinging, but you still didn’t move. You couldn’t.

Nina huffed, pacing now, her frustration spilling over. “I don’t know what happened between you and Rafe, and honestly, I don’t care. But whatever it is, you don’t get to throw your life away because of it. You’re stronger than this, Y/N. I know you are. So why the hell are you letting this break you?”

You flinched at the word “break.” Because that’s what it feels like. Like you’re already broken, shattered into a million pieces, and you didn’t even know how to start putting yourself back together.

Nina crouched down in front of you, her voice softening, her eyes searching yours. “Talk to me, honey. Please. Tell me what’s going on. I can’t help you if you don’t let me in.”

For a moment, you almost did. You almost told her everything—the text, the relapse, the endless void you’ve been sinking into. But the words caught in your throat, choking you. What’s the point in talking when nothing will change?

You shook your head, your voice barely a whisper. “I’m fine.”

Nina’s eyes narrowed. “Don’t give me that bullshit. You’re not fine. You’re far from it. You think I haven’t seen you like this before? You’re not fooling anyone, Y/N.”

She stood, her frustration bubbling back to the surface. “You need to snap out of it. Because in five days, you’re getting engaged to Rafe Cameron, whether you like it or not. And a week after that, you’re walking down the aisle. You can’t afford to fall apart now.”

You swallowed hard, the weight of her words pressing down on you like a lead blanket. The engagement. The wedding. The lies. It all felt so suffocating, so inevitable.

Nina crossed her arms, her voice firm. “So here’s what’s going to happen. You’re going to get up, you’re going to shower, and you’re going to pull yourself together. Because tomorrow, you’ve got a charity event with Rafe, and you’re going to smile for the cameras and make everyone believe that you’re still that perfect, golden girl they love.”

You wanted to scream at her, tell her you couldn't do it, that you didn't even know how to pretend anymore. But instead, you nodded numbly, sinking deeper into the fog that had settled over your mind.

Nina sighed, her voice softening again as she headed toward the door. "I'll be back tomorrow morning. And I swear, Y/N, if you're still in this state when I get here, I will personally drag you to that charity event."

The door closed behind her with a soft click, leaving you alone with the weight of everything she'd just said.

You hadn’t slept. Not really. Just laid there, staring at the ceiling, trying to figure out how you were supposed to pretend like everything was fine when every part of you was falling apart. You could still hear Nina’s voice in your head, telling you to pull yourself together, to be the golden girl everyone expected you to be. 

You dragged yourself out of bed, your body heavy. Your legs felt weak, and your mind feltl worse. Everything was numb, but somehow you still felt the pain. You stumbled into the bathroom, turning the water on without thinking. The cold spray hit your skin like tiny needes, and you stood there for a while, trying to let the string wake you up. But it didn’t work—you were still in that fog.

When you finally stepped out of the shower, you didn’t even bother looking in the mirror. It didn’t matter. You grabbed the first thing you saw—a plain black sweater, loose and oversized, and a pair of jeans that didn’t quite fit right anymore. You didn’t even try with your hair, just pulled it back into a bun. No makeup. What was the point? It wasn’t like anyone cared what you looked like today.

When you got to the office, the tension hit you the moment you walked through the door. Your stomach twisted as you made your way down the hallway, each step heavier than the last. You could feel your pulse in your throat, your chest tightening with every breath. You shouldn’t have cared. You shouldn’t. But as you pushed open the door to the conference room and saw him sitting there—Rafe, looking like he hadn’t been bothered by a single thing—you felt the anger bubbling up, hot and sharp.

It started as a familiar ache that had been building ever since the night he walked out of your apartment without a word. Two weeks. Fourteen days of silence. Fourteen nights spent waiting for a text that never came, hoping for even the smallest explanation, something to make sense of the hollow space he’d left behind.

Day 1. Monday, 2:42 AM

You: “Hey. Are you home? LMK, just to be safe.”

Day 2. Tuesday, 8:18 AM

You: “I’m still so confused about what happened last night, but let’s talk when you have a minute.”

Day 3. Wednesday, 5.32 PM

You: “Look, if you’re mad at me, just say it! I thought we were good, what the hell?”

Day 4. Friday, 11:04 PM

You: “It’s been days and I still don’t understand why you left like this.”

Day 5. Sunday, 3:27 PM

You: “Fuck you. I don't know why I keep texting. I know you’re seeing my texts, even though I’m on delivered. Just tell me if you’re done with this.”

Day 5. Sunday, 10:41 PM

You: “Why am I acting like I’m the one who fucked up? I didn’t do anything wrong. You left me like I was nothing, and your only explanation was a shitty rom-com excuse. I thought we were friends, Rafe.”

Day 5: Sunday, 11:36 PM

You: “I hope you rot in your shit ass apartment, but trust that I will show up to one of your stupid games with a sign that says “Small Dick Ghoster” in big, glittery letters. And I hope Chiara will hug you so hard that she’ll end up strangling you to death. Fuck you, again!”

And there he was, sitting there like none of it had happened, like you were still just strangers playing a game. His posture relaxed, that effortless confidence radiating from him, his gaze fixed on the papers in front of him, completely indifferent.

It infuriated you—the ease with which he moved on, the way he could look so composed, so completely unbothered, as if he hadn’t abandoned you in that moment when you were raw and vulnerable. Like it meant nothing. Like you meant nothing.

Every part of you screamed to confront him, to demand an explanation for the silence, the absence, the complete disregard. You could feel the hurt clawing up from your chest, tangling with the anger that burned hotter with each passing second. He was so close, but somehow, he felt miles away.

So instead, you steeled yourself, locking down the hurt, burying it beneath the anger that simmered just beneath the surface. You wouldn’t let him see the effect he had on you, wouldn’t give him the power to know just how much his absence had shattered you. No—he would get nothing from you. Not a word, not a glance, not a single sign of the turmoil raging inside you.

You walked past him without a word, each step heavy with the weight of the anger you swallowed down. Let him sit there, pretending like nothing was wrong. Let him think he could ignore you, dismiss you, erase you from his life without consequence. Because you would make sure he felt every bit of the coldness he had left you with, every ounce of the hurt he’d carved into you.

Ignoring him was the only power you had left, the only way to keep the anger from spilling over, from breaking you down entirely. And if he thought he could continue on as if the past two weeks hadn’t happened, then he was going to learn just how wrong he was.

Nicolas cleared his throat, breaking the silence that had settled over the room. “Hi, you two—we’ve got a lot to go over, and the timeline is tight. The engagement is in five days, and the wedding is scheduled for a week after that. So we need to finalize the details today—food, decorations, dresses, the guest list…”

You couldn’t focus. The words blurred together a dull hum in the background as you stared down at the table. Rafe said something, his voice casual, but you tuned it out. You didn’t want to hear him.

Sabrina spoke next, her tone brighter, more enthusiastic. “The audience is really enjoying you together, by the way. Ever since your date, and especially after the pictures from Kelce’s party where you two were cuddled up? People are in love with the idea of you and Rafe together. So, good job, guys.”

Your stomach churned at her words. Cuddled up. Like you were some happy couple.

“And tomorrow,” she continued. “You’ll need to make another public appearance together. It’s a charity event for cancer awareness. A perfect opportunity for more good press. The public is expecting you two to show up as the perfect couple—affectionate, in love, all of that.”

In love.

You bit down on the inside of your cheek so hard you tasted blood. This was the part where you were supposed to smile and nod, agree to hold his hand and play the role of the devoted future fiancée. But all you felt was the tension building, the weight of the lie pressing down on you until it was suffocating.

Rafe shifted in his seat, and you could feel his eyes on you, but you still didn’t look at him. Rafe felt an uneasy twist in his stomach. You looked… different. Disheveled, almost. Your sweater hung losely over your shoulders, practically swallowing your frame, and he could see dark shadows under your eyes that hadn’t been there before. You seemed smaller somehow, your usual energy muted, replaced by something tense and fragile.

Rafe’s gaze dropped to your hands, noticing how your fingers fidgeted restlessly, twisting and tugging at your sleeves. Your leg was bouncing under the table, tapping out an anxious rhythm that only he seemed to notice. Every small movement, every nervous habit—you looked like you were holding yourself back, like there was something simmering beneath the surface, ready to break free.

You still hadn’t looked at him, hadn’t given him a single glance, and that bothered him more than he wanted to admit. You’d been messaging him, and he’d been… well, avoiding it, convincing himself it was for the best. But seeing you now, seeing the wear and tear he’d left behind, he couldn’t shake the guilt.

Rafe’s chest tightened. He’d expected you to be angry, maybe annoyed. But this? You looked worn down, frayed at the edges, like you've been carrying a weight no one else could see.

You didn’t remember most of the details they were talking about. Your mind drifted in and out of focus as they went on about the guest list, the food, the decorations. All you heard were words—dresses, flowers, venues. None of it felt real. It was as if you were watching someone else’s life unfold in front of you, just sitting there, an outsider in your own story.

“The wedding will be televised, of course,” Sabrina says, flipping through her notes, her eyes gleaming with the excitement of it all. “And with a full press presence. We want every detail to reflect both of your public personas. Elegant, grand, but also with an intimate, personal feel—something that tells a story about who you both are.”

Who we were. I almost laughed at the irony. I didn't even know who I was right now, much less who we were.

“We were thinking of something grand but elegant. A modern luxury wedding. White roses, lots of gold accents. Maybe something at the estate in the Hamptons?”

You glanced at the board, at all the glossy, pristine images of weddings that could belong to anyone. None of them felt like you.

“Do you have any preferences?” Sabrina asked, smiling like this is the most exciting conversation in the world. “Colors, themes, anything that’s important to you?”

"Actually," you finally broke your silence, your voice coming out quietly, but the words landing heavily in the room. "I’d like the ceremony to reflect... my background." You could feel Rafe's eyes on you again, but for once, you didn’t care. This wasn’t about him.

Sabrina blinked, taken aback, but she quickly nodded, jotting down notes as if she were open to whatever you had in mind. "Of course, that could be beautiful. Were you thinking about specific details?"

You hesitated for a moment, uncertain if they’d take you seriously, but you pressed on. "Yes. The colors… the decorations. I want there to be vibrant colors—not just whites and pastels, but deep greens, maroons, and gold. The way we’d have them back home. And for the flowers… jasmine and roses. That’s what we use for weddings where I’m from. I want it to feel like... like part of my heritage."

Nicolas raised an eyebrow, as if he hadn’t expected you to care about any of this. But he just nodded, his pen moving across his notepad. "We can definitely arrange that. A traditional, multicultural theme would add a unique touch to the event, I think. It’ll definitely resonate with the press and the viewers."

You didn’t care if it resonated. It wasn’t for them—it was for you, a sliver of authenticity in this whole farce.

Then Sabrina’s voice broke into your thoughts. "And of course, the dress. Have you given any thought to what you want? Or would you like us to arrange for a stylist to go over options with you?"

Your heart twisted at the mention of the dress. The one thing you’d always imagined as a girl—the dress you’d wear at your own wedding. Only, you’d never thought it would be for this.

"I’d like to include some of my culture there too," you said, your voice barely above a whisper. "Maybe... a fusion. Something elegant and modern but with hints of traditional South Asian bridal elements. Like embroidery or... beadwork. Maybe even henna if it wouldn’t look out of place."

Sabrina seemed to light up at the idea. "That would be stunning. We can definitely work with that! I know several designers who specialize in fusing traditional and contemporary styles."

She was still talking, but the air around you felt thicker, as though the room was closing in. You could sense Rafe’s gaze without even looking at him, the weight of his silence pressing into you.

You zoned out again, your mind wandering back to the last wedding you attended. The colors, the music, the way the bride’s lehenga shimmered under the sun as she walked down the aisle. You’d always thought your wedding would be like that—full of life and celebration, surrounded by people who loved you.

Instead, you were planning a wedding for the cameras, for people who didn’t know you.

The sudden, sharp knock on the door cut through the stillness like a jolt of cold water. Your head shot up from the pillow, heart hammering in your chest. For a moment, the world felt like it was still. The quiet of your apartment, the thick fog still clouding your thoughts. You didn’t want to get up. You didn’t want to face the world outside of this bed, this cocoon of emptiness you’d wrapped yourself in for days.

Another knock, this one louder, more demanding.

“Y/N!” Nina’s voice came through the door, sharp and impatient. “You better not still be in bed, because I swear—”

The door swung open before you could even make a sound, Nina storming in, wearing the same determined, unbothered expression she always had when she was on a mission. You tried to bury your face back into the pillow, but she wasn’t having it. Her hand reached down, grabbing the covers and yanking them off with force. You shivered as the cold air hit your skin, the warmth of the blankets yanked away along with any shred of comfort you’d been clinging to.

“Get up.” Nina wasn’t asking. She was commanding. “You’ve got a charity event today, and Rafe is already at the venue. We don’t have time for your pity party.”

You squinted at her, still half-wrapped in your sheets like a burrito, and mumbled from underneath the pillow, “Can’t you just… I don’t know… handle it for me? Go in my place. You’d look great in a gown.”

She cocked an eyebrow. “Oh, I’d look amazing, but you and I both know I don’t have that kind of charisma.”

“True,” you admitted, peeking out from under the pillow. 

Nina raised her hands in mock surrender. “Exactly. Now, up. I’m not playing with you today.”

Before you could even protest, she yanked the covers off you with a dramatic flourish, leaving you to shiver in nothing but your oversized T-shirt. It was a miracle you didn’t roll off the bed in the process.

“Come on, Y/N. Let’s go.” Nina didn’t wait for you to even get a grip on reality before heading straight for your closet, rummaging through your clothes like she was on a mission. “You’re going to look so good today that Rafe might just start thinking you actually like him.”

You shot her a glare that could’ve frozen water, but she just smirked, tossing a black dress onto the bed like she was some fashion fairy sent to save you from yourself.

“I’m not going,” you said flatly.

“Oh, yes, you are.” Nina threw a matching pair of heels onto the bed with the same casual flick of the wrist she used to dismiss your protests. “Because you will look stunning, and you will show up.”

You sat up slowly, rubbing your face. “What is it with you people? Why does everyone keep trying to drag me out of bed? It’s like I’m the world’s most reluctant celebrity.”

“Because you are.” Nina grinned, holding up your dress like she was presenting the Holy Grail. “But, hey, guess what? You’re really good at it. So stop sulking and get your glam on. You’re the star of the show today.”

You let out a theatrical sigh. “Oh, joy.”

Nina didn’t even flinch. “I’m not asking for a performance. Just put on the damn dress and show up. You can pretend to be miserable, and I’ll pretend I’m not a miracle worker for getting you out of here.”

You hesitated for just a moment, then dragged yourself out of bed with a grunt. “Fine.”

“Oh, by the way, Aisha’s going to be there. She practically begged me to make sure you show.”

Your eyes snapped open. Aisha Patel. Your best friend and, quite honestly, the only person in your life who could drag you out of bed with a single text. She’s been your best friend since you’d arrived in the States. She’d been away for five months—longer than ever before—working on some high-profile project in Switzerland. You hadn’t seen her in ages.

“You’re kidding,” you mumbled, sitting up and rubbing your eyes. “Aisha’s coming?”

Nina smiled smugly. “Yep. She’s flown back for the event. Can you imagine the drama if you don’t show up? She’ll never let you live it down.”

You sighed, a smile tugging at your lips. “God, I missed her.”

“Me too,” Nina said, her voice softening for just a second. “But you still have to get up. Like now.”

You looked at the dress Nina had already picked out, a sleek white gown that somehow made you feel both glamorous and like you were about to attend a royal gala. “Fine. I’m up. I’m dressed.”

Nina, who was already rummaging through your closet like a pro, grinned. “You look absolutely beautiful, honey,” she noticed your weight loss but decided to not speak on it, in fear it’ll make you relapse… if only she knew. “Chiara’s also going to be there...”

You froze, the mention of Chiara Romano sending a cold shiver down your spine. You’d told Nina everything about the Chiara encounter—her subtle digs, the way she made you feel like you were just another passing phase in Rafe’s life. She’d made things uncomfortable enough at Kelce’s party, and now you had to face her again?

“What? Fucking why?”

“Her father’s the one running the whole damn event,” she explained. “I’m surprised you haven’t heard of her or her family because they’re pretty famous, especially in the entertainment and events world. So, get ready for a day full of small talk, fake smiles, and people who will pry into your private life.”

You sighed. “How perfect is that?”

You stood in front of the mirror, trying to shake off the heavy weight of everything swirling in your head. You glanced at the clock. You were running out of time.

You reached for your hair tie, pulling it through your tangled locks. Your hair had grown longer than you remembered, and you decided to tie it up in a messy, yet elegant bun—one that would allow a few soft, curly strands to escape and frame your face. It was casual but chic—classic you. You let a few strands fall loosely, giving the bun a less formal, more effortless vibe. After a moment of satisfaction, you moved on to the makeup.

A soft, dewy glow covered your skin, nothing too dramatic. You didn’t want to feel caked in layers today, just enough to enhance your features. You applied a touch of blush to your cheeks, just a hint, to keep the look fresh. A thin line of mascara lengthened your lashes, and your signature lip combo was the finishing touch. Simple. Comfortable.

As you turned to check yourself one last time, you heard Nina's voice from the other room.

“Y/N! We need to go now. Rafe's texting me and he’s getting antsy. He’s apparently already at the event!”

You sighed, feeling the familiar rush of anxiety settle into your stomach. The mirror reflected a version of you that was ready for the world, but the world, especially tonight, wasn’t ready for this version of you. But as the pressure of the event built up, you couldn’t deny the uncertainty gnawing at you.

When you made your way into the living room, Nina was pacing, her phone glued to her ear. She shot you a quick, approving glance. “Looking good. Let’s go.”

As you grabbed your clutch, ready to face whatever tonight had in store, the doorbell rang. Your heart skipped a beat. Was it Aisha? Maybe she’d arrived early, wanting to meet up before the event?

But when you opened the door, your breath caught.

Standing in the doorway wasn’t Aisha.

It was Rafe.

He was in a suit—sharp, looking like he belonged in a magazine ad for high-end fashion—but his eyes, dark and intense, held something more than just a desire to impress. He had the look of a man who knew he had messed up.

His words hit you before you could even process them. “You look stunning. I wanted to make sure you’re okay... before all this.” The sincerity in his voice made your heart thump a little faster, and you hated yourself for it.

The words caught you off guard, and for a moment, you just stood there, blinking at him. You hadn’t expected him to show up—especially not with that kind of intensity in his eyes.

You exhaled slowly, your arms instinctively crossing over your chest, your posture defensive. The audacity of this guy.

“Really?” You scoffed, trying to mask the vulnerability creeping up your spine with sharp sarcasm. “Now you care?”

Rafe seemed to falter at that, but he quickly recovered, taking a small step closer, but not enough to make you feel cornered. “I’ve always cared, Y/N. You know that.” His voice was quieter this time, and the sincerity in his eyes almost made your resolve crack.

“Do I?” you shot back, stepping out of the doorway and giving him a once-over, your gaze icy. “Because you sure had a funny way of showing it.”

Rafe winced, a flash of guilt flickering in his eyes. He ran a hand through his hair, his jaw tight. “I messed up, okay? I should’ve reached out. I didn’t know what to say, but I should’ve just... shown up.”

You rolled your eyes, the anger simmering beneath your skin rising again. You could feel your heart pounding in your chest, not from the sight of him, but from the frustration that had been building over the past two weeks. “You didn’t know what to say? You think showing up fixes two weeks of silence? Just like that?”

He took a step forward, his face tightening, as though he was bracing himself for a confrontation. "I wasn’t sure what to do," he said, his voice lowering. "I thought... maybe you needed space. I thought if I gave you time, it would be better." He ran a hand through his hair, frustration clear in his expression. “I was trying to do the right thing.”

You stared at him for a long moment, the audacity of his words settling like a lump in your throat. “Space?” you asked, your voice low, incredulous. “You thought ghosting me for two weeks would give me space?” 

Rafe’s face twisted in guilt, but it didn’t matter. You weren’t going to let him off the hook.

“Did you at least see my texts?” you demanded, anger rising in your throat.

"Y/N, you’re needed at the car right now!" Nina called, stopping Rafe in his tracks of answering. Before you could walk away, Rafe reached out, his hand closing around your wrist, pulling you back gently.

"Wait," he murmured, his thumb brushing your skin.

You stared up at Rafe, your breath caught in your throat, uncertainty swirling in your chest. The air between you two felt charged, a thousand unspoken questions hanging in the balance. Your pulse was racing, but before you could voice any of them, Nina practically shoved you both into the elevator. Her hand pressed the button for the ground floor as she threw your heels at you, the sharp click of the stilettos punctuating the tension.

You caught them on instinct. The elevator descended, and your mind was still spiraling, trying to piece together what the hell was happening. What the fuck—this distance between you and Rafe? 

But just as the elevator doors opened, the sound of a familiar car door slamming outside caught your attention. A quiet thud, followed by the sound of heels clicking against pavement. Your instincts were on alert, an uneasy feeling crawling under your skin.

And when you turned to look, you saw someone stepping out of the car.

Someone who shouldn’t be here.

“I was wondering when we’d get the chance to catch up.”

chapter seven

[wetblanket7]

touya todoroki headcanons bc im in love with this man ᯓᡣ𐭩

have i finished watching mha? no. does that stop me from writing about dabi? no <3

──── ᡣ𐭩 ─────────────────

touya todoroki who once decided to dye his hair red and immediately regretted it. he dyed it black again after enji took thousands of photos of him

touya todoroki who askes you to name 5 songs after he saw you wearing band tshirt

touya todoroki who tells his siblings they’re adopted or were found in the trash

touya todoroki who always goes to fuyumi for love advice bc he’s a total loser

touya todoroki who loves underground midwest emo bands and thinks his music taste is superior (its not)

touya todoroki who’s still unemployed and lives with his parents

touya todoroki who told you that he’s in lesbians with you

touya todoroki who always cheats when they’re having a family game night

touya todoroki who sags his pants

touya todoroki who only wears beat up converse and dr martens (i can also see him having new rocks)

touya todoroki who plays bass

touya todoroki who pierced his nose himself after rei told him he can’t has piercings

touya todoroki who often skateboards with keigo

touya todoroki who plays every male manipulator game with his online friends (mostly with shiggy tho)

touya todoroki who definitely uses dabi as his nickname (he thinks he’s soo cool)

touya todoroki who’s a momma’s boy

touya todoroki who is a spit image of enji

touya todoroki who’s the most stereotypical male manipulator ever

touya todoroki who definitely had an opium phase (keigo uses his photos form that era to blackmail him lmao)

touya todoroki who manspreads all the time (he literally can’t seat normally)

touya todoroki who never saw a brush

touya todoroki who has minecraft server with his siblings

touya todoroki who listens to lil peep

touya todoroki who uses tiktok brainrot with natsuo daily (rei is tired of them)

touya todoroki who steals rei’s eye pencil

touya todoroki who’s your passanger princess

touya todoroki who wears his clothes as long as they pass the sniff test

touya todoroki who knows his hogwart house, greek god parent, mbti, birth chart and which type of bread he is

touya todoroki who gets offended if you don’t answer his tiktoks but won’t answer yours for weeks

touya todoroki who never wears matching socks

touya todoroki who can’t solve math problems for shit but will explain the entire plot of evangelion to you

touya todoroki who dated one or two girls before you and they both dumped him

touya todoroki who’s love language is annoying everyone around him

touya todoroki who consumed every media you ever mentioned

touya todoroki who wears every single bracelet fuyumi, natsuo and shoto made for him

touya todoroki who gives you flowers he stole from rei’s garden

touya todoroki who will come up to you and give you a rock bc it reminds him of you

touya todoroki who’s your trained photographer <3

──── ᡣ𐭩 ─────────────────

this is probably very ooc but im projecting. i need a man like him so bad its not even funny anymore

and hes very scott pilgrim/rodrick heffley coded. watch him fight your seven evil exes and cover baby for you <3

sorry for any mistakes my god why is posting so stressful lmao i literally feel like i made so many grammar mistakes 🔥🔥

btw if you know downtown mtv then theres this one scene where alex takes serena’s photos at the graveyard this is literally you and touya frfr

[grapejuicestyless]

Wishes Do Come True

JJ Maybank x fem!reader

Summery: It was just a legend, something out in place to make people believe in something that couldn’t be true. But when fate has its way, JJ learns that sometimes, wishes do come true. CONTAINS SEASON 4 SPOILERS!!!

Ryan shot the gun first. He shot it because Ward was charging at him, his teeth bared and his arms spread wide. How fitting that he would go out as a somewhat decent father, a man who took three bullets and threw himself over a cliff to save his daughter and her Pogue best friends.

JJ remembers the feeling of the earth bending beneath his feet as he practically sprinted over to the edge, looking down past his feet to see where the Kook and the henchman lay. JJ thought it was strange, how someone could be so crumpled up, he knew bones weren’t made to bend that way, so seeing the way his body twisted made him a little sick.

He can hear Sarahs soft cries and echoing hiccups clearly, how Kiara seemed to grab onto herself to steady her breathing. He remembers seeing how tightly John B’s arms were woven around Sarah’s body, as if he were afraid she would jump next, as if her body could save his. There was no saving that, as sick as it was.

But what he really remembers, is the softness of her voice calling out for him, the way her voice shook like it was hard to get out. Only then did the sounds of his friends stop ringing in his ears, and through some champagne party effect, he could focus in on just the quietness of her. Only then did he realize as he tried to wrap his arm around thin air that she wasn’t at the ledge.

A stray bullet, it’s a funny thing. The shots fire, four, the last four bullets the man has, and only three reach the sacrificial lamb. The last one reaches one of the seven targets behind it.

Her hands shook over her upper stomach, gripping her skin just below her ribs. Even with a shaky focus, he could see the tint of read beginning to seep past her once light blue nails, now chipped and digging into the cloth of her shirt.

“JJ, I…I don’t…” She stumbled forward, her eyes flickering from his to some distant thing over his shoulder. She could barely focus her vision. He remembers the weight of her head hitting his shoulder as he caught her, the feeling of an extra warmth seeping into his own clothes, something wet and sticky that shouldn’t be drenching the two of them, but was.

“No, no, no. Come on cupcake, come on.” He gritted his teeth, trying to hold her up, but his need to keep her up was wavering at the look of agony on her face. She laid in his lap, his hand holding hers as they both pressed down on the wound, though, it was no use because they had no way home, and the nearest hospital wasn’t for miles. They had no idea where to even begin to search for one in the middle of all the greenery.

JJ rambled in a panic, a habit he’d always done, but she couldn’t make sense of it anymore. Her hearing was fuzzy and her vision came in and out in waves of darkness. She tried to look at her friends, but her eyes wouldn’t tear themselves away from her best friend’s face.

She had just gotten him, their love was still brand new, discovered on an island they were sure they would never find again. It was barely a month since they had shared a kiss under the stars, one both had been dreaming of for years. They went back and forth for what felt like centuries and now none of it mattered, because JJ was holding his love in his arms as she helplessly spat up blood and tried to focus on the blue of his eyes and not the tears on his face.

“It’s gonna be okay, you just gotta fight, you can fight. You fucking…” JJ broke out into a bitter laugh, one he didn’t mean as his palms messily wiped away the blood that trickled down her jaw. Red smeared everywhere, sticking to every crease in his skin. It burned, and so he kept smiling because his laughter, as disingenuous as it was, brought a weak smile to her face. “You saved my life, when I fell off that boat. You kept me alive, and I’m gonna keep you alive, so don’t give up on me.”

The sight of the tears finally spilling from her pretty eyes would forever haunt JJ, because he knew as her chest caved in against his lap, that the pain was too great to make her stay and suffer through, when they both knew she was as good as dead as soon as the gun was fired.

“It doesn’t hurt so bad anymore.” She had told him weakly, the initial throbbing turning into an intense burning, a mix of the powder and the blood that pooled around her, soaking his skin through his pants.

“N-no, come on baby…baby, cupcake, please.” He pleaded. “I love you, please.”

Her ears seemed to clear at his heavy confession, and a sweet smile, the sweet smile he had fallen for back in the third grade, graced her pretty, tired face one last time.

“I love you JJ.” She promised, blinking back the tears. Somehow, she found the strength to lift his hand from her wound and press her bloodied lips to his sticky palm.

He had to watch the way her eyes fluttered shut, one last choked breath that sounded similar to what Pope would later explain as death rattle breathing, escaped her mouth, and that sweet little smile faded into nothing as she laid dead in her best friends arms.

JJ was never quite the same after that. He still loved his friends, he was still reckless and loud and impulsive, but he seemed to do it all for her.

When they won their money finally, he thought of all the things he would’ve bought for her, all the beaches they could’ve surfed across. When he finally found a place to call home, he placed her pillow on her side of his bed, fluffed it up for her and swore some nights he could feel her head resting on his heavy chest.

He thought of how much she would have loved Poguelandia 2.0. It was bittersweet to see the flag because all he could think of was their first kiss under the white flag that waved proudly above them.

He missed their matching P4L stick and pokes, he hated that he had to look at his forever and know it no longer matched with anyone. He hated that everyone else around him had someone to lean on, a lover to come home to, when he knew he would never be able to love again. But most importantly, he hated how young she was. She was only nineteen.

John B told him it wasn’t about the time we had with those we have lost, but what we make of it, but JJ was too angry to care. He didn’t care, it was easy for John B to say when he had lost a best friend, but JJ had lost so much more.

He wore her charm bracelet on his wrist, even though it was tight and caused a lot of noise. He loved the charms on them because they were old and made of clay and they matched his rings and necklace. She made them when they were ten because they were too young for their tattoos.

He swore to never go after treasure again, he couldn’t risk it, but with the promise of a singular wish, JJ followed along like a duckling to Morocco, blood on his shirt and a new father to betray him.

“You know, they say the crown grants a wish.” Kiara broke the silence between them in the heat one day, looking up at the sky to avoid the awkwardness of eye contact. She didn’t have to ask to know he would wish for her back in a heartbeat, but she did anyway because truthfully she liked the way JJ talked about her. It made her feel like her best friend was still alive.

“Yeah?” JJ scoffed with a smirk. “What would you wish for?” He asked, leaning over the unstable ledge, bricks dusty and the cement breaking apart. It wobbled under his forearms.

“I’m not saying I believe it but…I’d wish to go back in time maybe. I’d try not to rush into everything.” She said calmly, her eyes finding JJ’s.

“What about you?” She asked softly, and JJ hummed.

“The thing about wishes is, they don’t come true if you say them.” Kiara laughed breathily at his words.

“Yeah?” She questioned for confirmation.

“Yeah.” He breathed out. “And I really want this one to come true.”

That phrase, “be careful what you wish for,” was made for people like JJ Maybank.

There’s this old game called “Monkeys Paw” that Y/n and JJ both loved when they were younger. One person would make a wish, and the goal of the game was to make that person regret that wish.

They would stay up for hours laughing about it.

If JJ wished for a pizza, the pizza was poisoned. If Y/n wanted a dog, it was rabid. They’d spend hours at a time waking up the neighbors just laughing at how outrageous they could make the faults.

Now that they were older, and now that Y/n was gone, JJ seemed to forget about the rules of the game.

He stumbled back, all air caught in his throat. He lost the crown, and he’d lost his girl, and now, here his biological father was with a knife twisted deep into his abdomen, pulling it out with a sickening crunch.

Kiara pleaded for him to keep fighting, her hands on the wound in a way that reminded him of the way he desperately pressed against Y/n’s all those weeks ago. Her cries were just as desperate, and they were just as fuzzy.

JJ now felt thankful he let her go peacefully, because living through the pain was insufferable, and he knew it would have been cruel to make her fight it any longer.

He cried a little, but he wasn’t sad. No, he was happy, even as Kiara screamed for Pope and John B, begging for help that would do no good because just like his precious Y/n, there was no way home and no help in sight.

He let out a hiccup, and his eyes focused on her brown ones as his vision cleared for a moment, the sting turning into a familiar burn.

“Kie, I never told you my wish.” He smiled, and she shook her head.

“No, Jayj, come on, you gotta fight it. I can’t lose you too.” She pleaded, and it was like he wasn’t even listening as he kept choking out words.

“I already got what I wished for.” He smiled.

All he ever wanted was a home, and though every sacred place he ever had to call that were short lived and destroyed, he had found it in the people who loved him, and the people he loved.

JJ wished for so much more than anyone thought, and he’d gotten all of it.

He had you at one point, and he was eternally grateful for every hug he ever received from your loving arms. He had Pope and John B, who made him laugh like no one else ever could, his ribs sore and his stomach shaking. Kiara and Sarah kept him grounded. He was grateful for how much they cared, how safe he felt around them. He knew he would miss his best friends more than anything else, he would miss them like family, because thats what they were.

The Pogues were his family, and his family was his home.

JJ wished for one last thing with the crown as the darkness took him. He slipped away from his body, his head lulling to the side as Kiara shook him, but he wasn’t there anymore, and he wasn’t afraid because there she was.

Kneeling beside Kiara and she didn’t even know, there she was, her sweet smile and her pretty eyes. She was holding both Kiara’s hand, and his hand, nothing more than wind to them on the ground, but now JJ could see her, and now he could hold her.

“Y/n? Cupcake?” He breathed out with a smile, the luckiest man in the world, even if his toes didn’t physically touch the dirt or the sand anymore.

“Jay…” She smiled back, a sweet sound falling past her lips, and it was simply half of his name.

As his arms wrapped around her tightly, his nose buried into her shoulder. It felt good to know that he would never have to let her go again, and that someday, his friends would have the same pleasure of holding him again too.

JJ’s wish had been a little greedy, because in addition to what he was already granted, he wished to be with Y/n again.

He guess he never really specified how but hey, wishes really do come true.

[rosemarytrash]

I know it's not really a thing you're obsessed with anymore but like, I just need to shout into the void: we deserved at least a season's worth of Amity acting like she did during Wing It Like Witches before they got together. Just completely tripping over herself with gay.

no because you're absolutely right. lumity had a funny way of reigniting my passion for silly lesbian shenanigans i think. i was like hyper into TOH for a minute there lol. i know it got cut short and lumity wasn't necessarily a focus of the show--dana described it as a sweet queer story in the midst of everything else, i'm paraphrasing but something like that--but best believe i would have been PLUGGED IN for an entire full length season of amity toning down on being mean and bending to her mother's wishes, learning to be rebellious and finding what really matters to her, with her crush on luz growing through all of that. PLUS luz's own crush blossoming and her ignorance of the possibility that this crazy cool witch girl could be into her?????? FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCK god it was so good and yea if that had happened for like 12-20+ more episodes. i'd've watched. i'd've watched all of them. and eaten it up happily. merrily, even. it could've gone on so long that twitter could've called it queerbaiting and i'd've been like yeah and i'm a baited queer it's too good

anyway your treat for screaming into the void is

[animezinglife]

It depends. Kids who are in programs like 4-H and FFA do it all the time. If you're from a small, rural community, though, there's a good chance they're the only ones ever taught it. I certainly never learned it in school.

A lot of my students came into college with experience in either of those programs or speech and debate if they came from larger schools, but these also tend to be your honors students with their sights set on pre-law, pre-med, or what we might lovingly call "pre-academia" tracks.

Everyone else gets thrown to the fire, especially the introverts.

The first time I ever had to do public speaking was my sophomore year of high school and present to a class. I had a panic attack and cried.

I was terrified to give my valedictory speech as a senior, but I managed.

My first presentation in college wasn't even in English. It had to be in Spanish.

Work is where they get you. They don't care and will throw you at any presentation need at any given time. It's not even necessarily in fields where it makes sense, either: it does in mine given I'm in academia, but even my dad has to do public speaking and he's in utilities. At some point, you'll probably have to train people, advocate for money, or do something of that sort regardless of your role. It's worth knowing, but like most practical things, schools do a lackluster job of teaching it.

It's funny looking back now, though. I've spoken at a number of conferences that have had anywhere between 100-300 people in the audience (all knowledgeable in their field). It doesn't make a difference whether I have fifteen students in a class or two hundred fifty in an auditorium setting. It doesn't even register anymore and I don't think about it.

It's not natural for most of us. I'm naturally more introverted, and the idea of attention being on me and me alone---especially on what I said---used to make me nearly vomit.

You just hit a point though where you don't care anymore. Nobody who will ever listen to you is perfect, nor will they ever speak perfectly. They don't expect you to be, either.

It becomes part of the mundane after a while.

Was anyone actually taught how to do public speaking or were we all just tossed in front of a classroom full of ppl and told to "just do it" as if it was easy?

[mybworlds]

Wintry dance

Pairing: jackson!joel miller x f!reader (no use of Y/N)

Summary: You, after a very long trip alone across the country, arrive in Jackson. Joel is a very lonely man and after Ellie broke up with him, he's even more alone and grumpy. Tommy and Maria decide that you're going to stay at Joel's house for a while, at least until more houses are built. Will your cohabitation be easy? Or will it be more complicated than everyone thinks?

Warnings: use of you, use of alcohol, loneliness, suicidal thoughts, a short story about sexual assault that occurred in the past I won't go into details, violence, blood, lots of sexually explicit content, use of petnames, dirty talk, fluff elements, mutual pining, the main characters spy on each other for a while, the image of the female character has the sole purpose of representing the character, but you can imagine her however you want, unspecified age gap, no physical description of the female character except for long hair often gathered in a ponytail or braid, she wears a bra and jeans (most of the time).

A/N Hey there, I'm sorry to make you wait almost a month between one chapter and another, but I really care about writing everything well and so I often take more time to write. I hope you like it as much as I do and if you don't like it, please be merciful. Likes, comments and reblogs are not mandatory, but very appreciated! ❤️

Masterlist

follow @mybworlds and turn on notifications to get notified when I post new fics

Taglist: @harriedandharassed

Thx for the dividers @saradika-graphics.

Winter comes and even the first snowflakes begin their wintry dance.

You love snow, from time immemorial. It gives you the idea of magic. You find yourself to smile behind the windows of the house.

Your life is finally regular, no unexpected events, no runaways, nothing. Everything is. . . strangely normal. You still struggle to get used to all this!

It's good for you. Finally you are not afraid anymore, you sleep in a really comfortable bed, you have a regular breakfast, lunch and dinner. You started going out with guys around your age a few days ago, you get out with Dina and Jesse even if they're younger than you, but it's okay. They are funny. And all you need now is to relax and let go a little, at least as much as you can.

From time to time, Jesse or Dina or sometimes Tommy call you for patrols and you go. You are really good to shoot with a bow, it's what people say about you and it's okay because it means you became part of a community, part of something and it's not bad as you thought.

Well, that's not all rosy. . . there's Joel who never changes his icy courtesy, after those strange moments you experienced together a few days ago. Not a word to you more than necessary, not a glance more than necessary. You don't know how long you can stay here in his house. Sooner or later he will tell you to go away, you're sure of it.

Where will you go? Probably you'll go to Dina's or Maria's. . . no idea.

Today it's your 40th patrol and you'll go with Joel. The idea doesn't excite you, but you don't want to be a troublemaker for anyone. Joel's annoyed look is enough.

The only sound is the hoof of horses in the snow, it's a good sound. Snow doesn't fall and at least you can find the way to go back to Jackson.

The two of you don't say a word, you often look at each other to point to a prey or if one of you see an infected. You kill at least three of those clickers before to get off the horse and heading into the forest. Joel is by your side, he's quiet, precise and a couple of times kills two runners who tried to reach you. You look at him surprised, "Thanks," you say.

"Uh, uh," it's his only reply.

After ten feet you ask him, "Those things were uhm. . ." you whisper.

"Runners, yeah." he says in the same tone as your.

"But it means. . ."

"It means they have recently turned into infected."

"So, it's probably. . ."

"Yeah, it's probably some of those things are somewhere around here."

You swallow looking at him, you are not afraid, it's not your first time. But you usually kill them alone and so you didn't have to think to anyone else except you, "Afraid?" he asks.

You look at him "No, but I always faced 'em alone. I never watched someone's back before."

"‘s okay, you won't start today," he says before to start to walk turning his back to you.

In some places, snow is deeper so your steps are slower and you often sunk, a couple of times Joel gives his hands to you to reach a higher point or to help you to walk, his hands are bigger than yours and his grip is firm. He holds you until you don't reach him then he abruptly lets go of your grip as if the mere contact with you bothers him.

Finally you see a deer, it's a good prey, you hold the string and then you let the arrow fly, the deer has no escape. Your arrow hits its neck, the poor deer tries to escape, but it falls to the ground dead.

"You really good," Joel says when the two of you reach the deer and he pulls the arrow away from its neck "I thought everyone was exaggerating,” he adds, bringing you right back down to earth.

"Thanks, let's take it away," you say tying it with a double rope so the two of you can drag it away.

You two don't talk on the way back, partly because of the cold and partly because you don't know what to say to each other. You hoped that that half-compliment would bring about a slight change in your relationship, but instead he immediately underlined his opinion of you. You only glance at each other from time to time and then return to focus on the road ahead of you.

The two of you reach your horses where you double rope the deer and then take off again and head towards Jackson.

"I can't wait to drink two large glasses of wine and fall asleep," he says, closing his eyes almost as if he's already savoring that moment, you notice how two dimples form on the sides of his cheeks when he gets that rare relaxed expression and you can't help but smile "What? Why d' ya smile?"

You shrug your shoulders, "When you make that face you're funny" you say unable to get your smile back.

"Glad to hear that! So, I'm some kind of clown!" he exclaims.

"No, clowns have always made me sad." you reply by wrinkling your nose.

When you look up at Joel, you see him staring at you, you frown in confusion.

“So, what is it that you like?” he asks you.

"Tsk, I know you're only asking out of politeness, not out of interest," you say.

Joel doesn't answer, you probably hit the nail on the head, you look ahead, you know he can't stand you.

It's evening. It's snowing again outside and it's very cold. Joel prepared the fire and strangely he didn't freeze you with his gaze nor did he give you the usual look with which he chases you away, you prepare a soup with meat and you bring him a plate that you place on his coffee table, then you turn your back and go to the kitchen, you're used to act like this with him. On the kitchen island there is also a hot dish for you that you prepared earlier, after two spoonfuls you hear a husky voice coming from the other room, "Why don't you come over to the fireplace? It's cold tonight."

You turn towards the fire and see Joel looking at you with the dish you prepared for him in his hands, "Come, won't bite" you look at his face as if to understand if he is joking or serious, his gaze is concentrated, but not hostile as usual so you nod, you get off the stool and you join him taking your dish with you.

He's sitting in an armchair, while you sit on the sofa in front of the fireplace. You look at him furtively at least a dozen times, then seeing him calmly eating, you imitate him.

The fire produces a familiar and pleasant crackling sound which heats both of you quickly and paints the walls and your faces a deep orange and black nuances.

"‘s good this soup!" he says savoring your dish down to the last spoonful.

"I'm glad you like it," you say, "is there any other dish you might like to eat? I can't guarantee success, but I'll try!" you exclaim trying to talk civilly with him without being attacked or cold-shouldered by his words..

He shakes his head, "Whatever it is, it'll be fine," he reassures you.

You nod.

For a while you only hear the crackling of the fire and the creaking of the burning wood, it's a strange but pleasant silence.

"You asked me earlier what it is that I like." you say after a while "I love the snow, seeing the snowflakes swirling in the air creating those little swirls. I love the expanses of wild flowers in spring or see a pristine meadow. I love going to the beach to see the ocean waves crash on the shore when summer arrives and then in autumn I love the carpets of red, yellow, brown leaves," you smile staring at the fire.

"You like nature, but. . . nothing about relationships with other people," he notes, you look up "You don't trust ‘em or is there some other reason?" he asks looking at you.

You bite your bottom lip, you find yourself looking at his face for a few moments before sighing, "Never mind. It's none of my business and I don't even care," he replies, suddenly freezing the room "Have you finished?" he asks you, getting up from the chair and pointing to the now empty plate in your hands, “Sure,” you reply.

"Good, gimme," he says, holding out his hand to take the plate that you immediately hand him, "If you wanna, stay close to the fire a little longer." he says as he's about to take his leave.

"Joel," he pauses, "I know I'm a burden to you, someone to get rid of, but I promise you, I'll try not to make you feel my presence too much, I know you don't wanna me around" you tell him, turning your torso partially towards him "when maybe they build more houses, I'll leave."

Joel stares at you in the semi-darkness and then he walks away without saying a word.

Actually, you love many other things, but you still don't feel completely at ease with Joel and above all he just admitted that deep down he doesn't really care what you like or what you're interested in.

Joel washes those two plates and those two spoons at least twenty times. He doesn't know what to replicate to your words and therefore he delays the moment when he will find himself alone with you again. The truth is he doesn't know what he wants right now. You're still a burden, you're still a hindrance to his routine, but it's become harder to treat you badly now. Maybe it was Tommy's words, maybe Ellie's or maybe it was you with all your unspoken words, your sweetness, your attitude, your look that made him understand that he's not the only one who suffers from something.

He pours himself a drink, he places his lips against the glass, but then he thinks better and puts the glass down.

"Fuck!" he exclaims, then dries the dishes and finally joins you.

By the time he reaches you, you are fast asleep. You're on your stomach and hugging the sofa cushion.

He watches you, he runs a hand through his hair, then takes two blankets and he places them on you. You visibly relax, Joel can even swear he saw you smile and twice in the same evening is a lot.

He sits in the armchair and turns on the small light on the side table, he puts on his reading glasses and then takes a book from the drawer of the side table.

He reads several pages, stopping every now and then when he hears you moan meaningless words in your sleep or when he sees you wrinkle your forehead. He takes off his glasses and places the book on the side table, he puts out the fire and puts on the spark arrestor, then fixes the blankets for you, he gives you one last look and then leaves. When he gets into bed, he realizes that it's the first time in probably months that he has reached his room sober.

When you wake up the next day, you have two warm, thick blankets over you. You stretch and yawn loudly, then you sit up and realize you're not in your bed, but in Joel's living room.

Did he let you stay here to sleep? This is really weird.

You get up and fold the blankets to the side, then you go to the kitchen and make yourself some coffee, it has a unique taste, but it's not that bad.

It's been a long time since you drank coffee. . .

You decide to make one for Joel, he's an asshole, but he'll still host you at his house. You take a cup that you imagine is his with an owl on it, you smile. The owl actually represents him very well, it's a nocturnal, solitary and extremely territorial animal.

You pour the coffee into the cup and go upstairs, the door to his room is almost completely closed, you knock weakly a couple of times, then open it. Joel is lying face up in the center of the bed, his arms completely open so that he takes up the entire bed, the pulled aside covers show his exposed torso.

You watch his thick fingers full of small cracks and cuts, his hands relaxed, his face is a mixture of sweetness and masculinity, the wrinkles are barely noticeable, the lips parted, his chest is broad as it looked and you watch a lot of scratches and a very large old scar on his abdomen.

You swallow, you lower your head unsure about what to do or what to say, maybe you have to go back to the hall and knock again and pretend you didn't stare at him for so long. You can almost hear his voice thundering against you.

Yes, you'll do so.

You are about to get out, when you hear him move into the bed and mumbles something to you, you clearly hear your name so you slowly turn your back to the door again, fuck. . .

"Hey, that's my mug!" he says with a sleepy expression and tone of voice.

You clear your throat and then you offer his cup, "Yeah, it is. Here."

He sits in the center of the bed exposing even more his torso. You look at him or rather you look at his bare chest.

He follows your gaze, “Oh, fuck. . . sorry, I'm wearing a t-shirt," Joel apologizes, as you see him lean towards a nearby chair and cover himself.

You look everywhere but him who is now wearing a grey shirt and reaches out a hand towards the cup you're holding out to him and begins to sip his coffee.

"D' ya feel uncomfortable?" he asks you all of a sudden.

You look at him again, "N - n - no," you say barely hold his gaze.

"‘s okay, darlin'. I won't bite." he says putting the cup on his bedside table "Comin' in a while, I'll see ya downstairs, okay?" you nod before to leave.

Darling?

No one has ever used these nicknames and above all you don't expect them from a person who is so openly hostile towards you.

Joel is a living enigma. He says such harsh words, but then he does such sweet things like tucking you in. You don't understand.

You walk down the stairs slowly feeling your heart beating wildly in your chest. When you reach the kitchen, it almost feels like someone has sucked the air out of your lungs.

Ralph. . . the thought of him suddenly comes back violently before your eyes.

You pour some cold water into a glass and sip it slowly, “Fuck...” you murmur sitting on a stool, you place your hands on the shelf feeling your head spin, you close your eyes, inhaling and exhaling deeply, counting from fifty backwards.

When you regain control of yourself, you get up and go out onto the porch, you find yourself thinking that you need to get out of this house as soon as possible.

In a certain sense your life has improved, you think, you have friends, days that are almost identical to each other, you have a roof over your head, food in your stomach, but your nightmares continue to haunt you.

You have pain everywhere. He beat you mercilessly, he punched you under an eye, he violently squeezed your wrists while he raped you, you stagger, you want to report what you lived, but in the QZ, when they saw you in that state, they thought you had been bitten and they pointed all sorts of weapons at you. You were shaking, you peed on yourself, you were raped and they were pointing guns at you and looking at you like you were filthy. After verifying that you were not infected, they listened to you, but their response was that they have much more serious problems than yours, that's what an officer told you when you told him why you were covered in blood and bruises. You are treated and a nurse gives you a painkiller, the same scene repeats itself before your eyes without stopping, you can't breathe. You fall asleep seeing Ralph push himself inside you with increasing violence and feeling your flesh tear under his thrusts.

You wake up with a start, screaming and waving your hands in the air to free yourself from his grip. You sit up and bring your knees close to your chest, you place your hands on your ears and burst into tears.

NEXT CHAPTER ➢

[ecoterrorist-katara]

I just saw your post about Toph being the one that brings out Katara’s inner (gremlin) child and my god you’re so right. Katara actually gets to just be a kid when it comes to Toph, she gets to be petty and actually really mean sometimes (saying the stars are beautiful and then telling Toph it’s too bad she can’t see them was CRAZY) but she also gets to pull a scam and go to a spa with her (and then wash three girls down a river after Toph dumped them in there for being mean to her). And I love that we get to see those sides of her that Toph drags out.

Contrast that with the like one time she was kind of mean to Aang in the waterbending scroll episode and had to immediately apologize to him and promise she wouldn’t try to learn from the scroll anymore. Toph brings out what Katara is really like when she gets to just be someone’s friend (and even sister figure) and when she isn’t being forced in one way or another to take on a motherly role for them. (Side note but this is also why I wish we’d gotten to see Katara and Suki interact one on one because I feel that would’ve been another relationship that just allows Katara to be a teenage girl and relate to another girl who would probably understand her pretty well)

Anyway I love your blog and I hope you have a lovely day!

YES absolutely agree w you! Katara is unhinged when it comes to Toph but in like, a not very serious way. One of my fave things about Katara and Toph is how Toph is the first person to reject Katara’s caretaking unequivocally in a way that asserts that they’re on equal ground. it’s not a babysitter situation because like you said, Katara decided to be bratty right back!

And conversely, I think it’s funny that Katara, who is super kind and compassionate and unequivocally the heart of the group, is the person who’s rudest to Toph LOL. Toph really does not want people to treat her like she’s made out of glass, and one of the ways she does that is by being brash to other people, but Katara is the only one who really meets her on that level of sheer belligerence, you know? But Katara can also be pretty thoughtful about what Toph does need, like saying exactly the right thing in Tales of Ba Sing Se. They're just so in sync, yet set each other off. It’s beautiful.

I absolutely agree with you re: Suki too. I want them to swap fighting tips and talk about makeup and other #justgirlythings. But I also want Suki to demonstrate to Katara that leadership and caretaking can happen in combination, because Suki held that joint role with the Kiyoshi Warriors. Katara has so much leadership potential and I think Suki could have been a great mentor to her in that regard. (Uh oh, now I ship Sukitara oops)

I’m honoured you like my blog and I hope you have a lovely day too!!!

[fruitcoops]

Happy Birthday, Sirius. Characters by @lumosinlove <3

“You’re soft.” Kiss. “Right here. And you’re warm.”

Remus makes a little humming noise. Half an answer, half a breath. Sirius smiles into the ridge of his shoulder blade. It’s more than enough to satisfy.

They don’t have to talk much, anymore. He can read Remus like a favorite book, with worn and yellowed pages and a paperback cover peeling off from being carried along with him to every important place. Love is worn into the glossy cover in fingerprint-smudges and rounded corners. His fingers have left marks on the margin of every page. And Remus…Remus has been able to read him longer than Sirius knew what story he was telling. Speaking isn’t necessary most times. They hardly need to try.

They like to do it anyway.

“I like it, it’s my favorite,” Sirius states, prompt and decisive as he runs his thumbs up and down the bowling-alley gutter-guards of Remus’ spine. The bones are rolling foothills between. A smattering of faint, blond-ish hair gathers at the slope above his waistband, glimmering when Sirius pulls his thumbs across those last few inches. “You’re freckly, still. Petites étoiles.”

“Ooo, talk dirty to me,” Remus mumbles like he always does, face half-buried in the pillow. Sirius swats at his upper back and feels a laugh jostle his legs.

The expanse of his shoulders is so good. Has been, will be, currently is. He scratches the tops lightly with blunt nails and watches Remus press back into it in a shifting, catlike stretch. He’s willing to bet that if he looked backward, Remus’ feet would be flexing over the end of the bed to complete the ripple down his body. It only takes a twitch of his hamstring beneath Sirius’ thigh to confirm it.

“Will you do the—hmm, yeah.” Remus sighs, and melts. A tender-firm knuckle to that tetchy muscle gets him every time. Sirius drags the span of his palms over the latitude of Remus’ back and feels him breathe, deep and slow, as his heart beats ever onward. Endurance. Persistence. Unfailing courage. Gentle hands and canine teeth that never let go even when the world tried to shake him loose.

Sirius leans down and kisses that spot below his shoulder blade, in the valley where he is soft and warm and speckled and Remus. He turns his head and matches it on the other side, a mirror, an inch below a long-silvered scar. It’s almost invisible now. Time is funny like that.

Remus breathes. His hands continue. His mouth stays light. They grow old, slowly, and it’s more than enough.

[deathworlders-of-e24]

Liz, Biotechnician

Part 4

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“I still can’t get this stupid arm to work right,” Liz groaned. She’d managed to get to the lab on time today, and she’d been able to get dressed herself, but only barely. Her lab coat and uniform were both disheveled, the new bionic hand unable to get every button resulting in half of them being left undone. She’d ended up having to tie her shoe laces in knots to keep them on her feet because her fingers couldn’t bend the way she wanted or grip the thin laces. The only reason Liz was wearing the lab coat these days was to hide the cross section where her arm ended and the cybernetics began. Looking at it was… upsetting, to say the least.

“It’s only been a few cycles, Human Liz,” Coco said. “It’s my understanding that losing limbs is fatal to most other species of non-botanicals. Having the ability to complain right now is a gift.”

“It’s been over a week,” Liz said. “And I know, everyone keeps reminding me I’m lucky to be alive, you, the captain, Jane, I know how lucky I am, but this,” she waved the hunk of metal she called a hand, “is starting to piss me off.”

“You are upset,” Coco said. They were standing beside the center lab table. Liz couldn’t even see the claw marks the predator creature had left on their trunk anymore. “This is to be expected.”

Coco walked over to their wall computer, avoiding the small automated cleaner Liz had made to tidy up the dirt they tracked everywhere.

“Remind me again, this device you have made to remove the dirt, why have you attached a weapon to it?” Coco asked.

“Thought it’d be funny,” Liz said, “which it was.”

“And you have designated it…?”

“Stabby, ‘cause of the steak knife.”

“Why?”

“Old Earth legend. Makes us humans laugh,” Liz said, smiling as she leaned her chin on her good arm.

“You will have to explain that story to me again some time.” Coco clicked a button on their screen and a wall panel slid up between them, revealing the clutch of 5 eggs they’d taken from MX13 sitting in their tank. They were about the size of baseballs, or stone fruits. Liz had stuck a strip of electrical tape on the front and written ‘arm eating bastard eggs’.

“You know I’m half tempted to eat them,” Liz said.

“Please do not engage in predator behavior around me,” Coco asked. “It still makes me nervous sometimes watching you try to swat at insects.”

“Really? Why?” Liz chuckled.

“I know you are more evolved than a simple animal, but when I observe you stalk and hunt down the… mosquitoes? It reminds me of the predators we have on Spryga. It is unsettling.”

Liz stopped and thought for a moment. She hadn’t considered that before. It was probably a normal complaint among former prey species working alongside humans. Whoops.

“Well, sorry. Humans are weird like that, but I’ll try to be more conscious about it,” Liz said.

“Thank you. I do not mean to… step on your hands, but I appreciate it.”

“Step on your toes, hon.”

“Right.”

Liz pulled the tank out of the wall while Coco set the lab up, turning on heat lamps and setting the environmental controls in the room to MX13 standard, except for the air. Upon further analysis of the predator creature from the moon, it didn’t need the methane in the air to breathe. From what was left of its ‘lungs’, they breathed more like frogs, through their skin, stripping oxygen from out of the water they swam in. Apparently they were more reptilian than Liz had expected. There were underground rivers and lakes all across the subsurface of the moon, hunting grounds for the creatures. Liz guessed they came above ground to lay their eggs, away from the competition.

Furry reptiles, Liz thought. Why the hair though? It doesn’t make sense. Maybe to keep warm? The underground water has to be freezing.

“What do you think the GAIL will want to do with them after… if they hatch?” Liz asked.

“Standard procedure would be to return them to their natural habitat after a nano scrub to remove any and all unnatural scent from their bodies, so they can be reaccepted back into their species later,” Coco explained. “But hatchlings would be another question entirely. Perhaps they would be sent to an outpost for further study, or released into a controlled habitat somewhere.”

“What, like a zoo?” Liz asked. “You have zoos in the GAIL?”

“Possibly, I’m not sure what this zoo is.”

“We had them on Earth a long ways back. It was pitched as a way to study animals up close, but it was really just cheap entertainment for the masses. Eventually it kinda grew into a way to help endangered species, but it was still pretty on the line.”

“Then no, we don’t have zoos. What I’m speaking of are rehabilitated planets or moons with an ecosystem created to cater to the needs of the species we simply can’t put back where they are from.”

“That still kinda sounds like a zoo, but I guess if nobody is throwing peanuts at the elephants it’s still an improvement.”

The lab was set up for observation, the eggs were supposedly viable, so while they waited to see what would happen, the two got back to their other work. Reasonably they could’ve just left the eggs in the temperature controlled wall slot, but Liz had said that’d be boring, considering it was ‘the most she’d ever paid for less than a full carton of eggs.’

Coco stepped into their pot and watched the eggs, Liz in her desk chair tinkering with her new arm. She was sure if she could just get the pathways right, she’d be able to get the thing working properly. The cable running from her arm to her computer was annoyingly equated to a leash in her mind.

If I could just open a can of soda by myself, that’d be a huge win.

As they sat there doing important scientific work, there was a knock at the door.

“Come in,” Coco said, unmoving in their corner. The door opened and, oddly enough, another human walked in. He stood just inside the doorway looking around sheepishly. Liz glanced at him and was surprised to see a maintenance droid sitting on his shoulder.

“Hey, I’m sorry to bother you guys, uhh, I’m Thomas, from engineering,” said the man.

“Well, hi, I guess,” Liz said, a little confused. “What are you doing all the way up here Thomas? We didn’t make any maintenance requests.”

“No, you didn’t, but I think you need one anyway,” Thomas said. “See, I was just in the med bay for the last couple cycles, and I overheard the nurses talking about the human who needed a cybernetic arm. I’m assuming that was you and not one of the other two, right?”

“What gave it away?” Liz said dryly, waving her metal hand. “And what are you doing, asking about me anyway? You want to see the robot arm or something, get an upgrade for your little buddy there?”

“Oh, no no no, I’m sorry, I just figured you’d need the fix for it,” Thomas said. He walked further into the room, albeit cautiously. “I asked about the model arm they gave you, the MK6, and there’s a small chance the one you have has a problem.”

“… huh?” Liz said, actually confused now.

“Yeah, the MK6 is a great design, but the company putting out the arms had a faulty inspection system, a couple hundred came off the line with a bug in the wiring.”

“I’ve ran a dozen tests on this thing, I would’ve found any code defect.”

“No, I mean, an actual insect, little crawly thing, in the arm. The factory where they were made had a pest problem so they were fumigating for a while. The whole plant is totally automated, so they didn’t stop production while they did it. Bugs went everywhere trying to escape, and some went into the product to avoid the pesticides. Prosthetics got sealed up, and so did the bugs. It’s probably gunked up the wiring in your arm, that’s why you can’t… you know,” Thomas explained, gesturing to her uniform.

“There… there’s a bug in my fucking arm?” Liz said, disgusted.

“I’m just saying there might be,” Thomas said, hands up like he was going to defend himself.

“Beep.”

“Yeah, I know buddy, but we gotta get permission first.”

“Did the small drone speak?” Coco asked.

“Oh my god you’re a Sprygan!” Thomas said, surprised. “I’m so sorry, I thought you were just a houseplant.”

“It’s no problem, I am not offended,” Coco said.

“Uhh, yeah, his name is Roomba, he asked why we don’t just fix the arm and go. We’re still learning patience and manners, apparently.”

“Beep.”

“Apology accepted. Thank you Roomba.”

“Can somebody just check my arm for bugs now please, before I throw up?” Liz half squealed, panicking. She could charge a hostile alien creature no problem, but the thought of insects touching her was enough to make her stomach churn.

“Yup, right, okay, gimme a sec,” Thomas said, coming into the room fully now. “Roll your sleeve up, I gotta remove the casing for this.”

Liz rolled the sleeve of her lab coat up past her elbow, grimacing as she caught sight of the connection plate set into the bone. The skin around it was still red and scarring.

Thomas pulled a small set of tools out of his back pocket and got to work. With a thin pick, he popped the forearm plate up, exposing the circuits running the length of the device, what Liz had in place of muscle tissue now. He took a small pair of needle nose pliers and started poking around, gently moving aside some wires here, around a bolt there. Liz turned her head away. As fascinating as the mechanism was, the idea of seeing an insect inside her body was going to make her sick.

“Okay, talk, bot boy, how come you knew about the defects?” Liz demanded. “I need stimuli to keep from thinking about this revolting situation, so talk.”

“I, uhh, wrote a paper at the academy, about how designers only see solutions to what they think could be the problem,” Thomas said, moving up her forearm. “A lot of people don’t realize they’re starter than they give themselves credit for, especially actually smart people. Knowing what could go wrong, they start to doubt themselves, and when things do break, they wrack their brains over all the little things they think they did wrong. So I wrote a paper about all the other things that could go bad… like this little guy right here.”

Thomas clamped onto something and slowly fished it out of the device. Liz turned her head even further away, but it didn’t matter. Coco, ever present, and blunt as always, described it to her.

“It appears quite dead. Human Liz, you seem to have had a beetle of some kind in your prosthetic limb,” they said.

“Hon, I love you, but please don’t tell me the details,” Liz said, covering her mouth with her good hand.

“The lady who designed the MK6 is a certified genius, so I used her factory in my thesis paper. After they started getting complaints about some of their prosthetics, they ran every test they could think of, even rewrote the software a few times. It wasn’t until a no name engineer opened one up that they found the problem. Wasn’t anyone’s fault, it’s just a difference between working software and working hardware.”

“And you wrote an engineering thesis paper on that?” Liz asked, dry heaving ever so slightly.

“No, I wrote my psychology paper on that. I wrote my engineering paper on a new WARP drive design I made up.” Thomas threw the dead insect in the trash. “Bigger brains just see bigger problems. Takes a… well, not dumber person, just maybe a different kind of person to see the small problems.”

“Clearly. Anyone with two degrees isn’t what I’d call dumb either,” Liz said, turning her head back.

Thomas used a little brush to clean up the arm a little, squeezing a small tube of sanitizing gel into the empty space between wires.

“Roomba, sterilize this for me, would you?”

The little drone carefully climbed down from his shoulder and dropped onto the table. It held its little hand up as one of its finger tips ignited, making a small controlled torch. Liz held her arm out, looking concerned. The little droid ran its finger over the affected area and after a moment, the little flame went out.

“Beep.”

“Good job buddy. He said it’s totally clean now, 100% sterilized,” Thomas said.

“Oh thank god,” Liz breathed a sigh of relief. “Thanks little guy, I owe you one.”

“Beep.”

“He said you’re welcome,” Thomas translated, handing the small droid a data pad. The pad wirred and trilled, and Liz realized the droid was playing a video game.

Odd little fella, huh, she thought.

“You should be able to get the arm working by the end of the day now. It’s had plenty of time to adjust to your neural pathways, it just couldn’t execute any functions till the block was removed. It’ll work just like your old one now,” Thomas said, putting the little tool kit back in his pocket.

“Guess I should say thanks for that,” Liz said, rolling her sleeve back down. “So… thanks. I owe you one too. Any of you guys down in maintenance need a hand, I’ve got a shiny new one to offer.”

“Human Thomas,” Coco chimed in, “thank you for fixing my friend. Your service has been greatly appreciated.”

“You’re very welcome,” Thomas smiled at them, “both of you. I better get back down to the maintenance deck though, we’re still repairing the core room from that flare the other cycle.” Thomas turned to leave, and was almost at the door when Liz called after him.

“Hey, hardware!”

He stopped in the doorway.

“Weird thing to call me, but I can dig it. Yeah?”

“How many degrees do you have?” Liz asked.

“Four, why?” He said.

“Know anything about eggs?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Thomas left after a while, saying he’d be back to help build a better inclosure for the hatchlings. Apparently he’d kept bearded dragons as pets when he was a kid, so he knew at least a little about ‘lizards’.

Liz opened a desk drawer and dug out a stress ball, something Doctor Shaw had given her for rehab, and tried to squeeze it. Amazingly, her metal fingers actually curled and the ball morphed out of shape.

“Finally!” She said. “Coco, look! I can squeeze the ball!”

“That is wonderful, Human Liz,” Coco said, the lit photo bar in their branches feeding them synthetic star light. “The human capacity to overcome body altering trauma is fascinating. In my research of non-botanical life, this is very clearly an exception. Other lifeforms would simply perish from such catastrophic damage.”

“Wait until you hear our bones grow back stronger after they break,” Liz said, laughing.

“They do what?” Coco asked, a note of alarm making its way into their voice synthesizer. Liz cackled, throwing her head back and everything. She felt better than she’d had in days, like whatever funk she’d been in was starting to disappear. She suggested they discuss human bone structure while they go get something to eat, saying Coco could gorge themselves on chocolate while she got a sandwich or something.

The mess hall was lively, and various species meant various different cultures and cuisine, so it always smelt different every few minutes or so. They sat and discussed cellular structures, bone density, and the like, how calcium deposits support bone regeneration for a while, making the broken area stronger than ever, for a time at least. Coco was simultaneously fascinated and terrified. They had no idea non-botanical lifeforms were so resilient in the Terran System.

After some time, and a second sandwich, they made their way back to the lab. They’d just stepped off the lift and were a few feet from the door when Liz heard it.

…scchhtt scchtt sschht…

Something was scratching at the door, low to the floor. Something small.

“Coco wait a minute,” Liz said softly, holding out her good arm in front of the Sprygan.

The door opened… and there was a baby arm eating bastard sitting there, looking up at her. The thing looked almost like a big kitten, except for the gator snout and reptilian limbs. Its body was covered in patchy fur, almost like a baby seal. It looked up at the two of them and chirped like a cat before waddling over, sat on Liz’s foot, and began gnawing on her laces.

“Holy shit,” Liz said. “It’s so ugly I love it.”

“I will go call Human Thomas,” Coco said, “we will need the new enclosure now.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

By the time Thomas arrived, the scientists had found two more Armeaters. “Yeah, one word, that’s what I’m calling them,” Liz had said when asked. One had been crawling around in Coco’s plant pot, and the other was sniffling around under the desks. As for the other two eggs, it seemed the three had…

“You mean they ate the other eggs?” Thomas asked, mildly horrified.

“Yeah, we checked the recordings. They sat looking at the eggs for a bit before they, uhh, kinda just crushed the eggs and ate them scrambled,” Liz explained. She was sitting in her desk chair, covered in Armeaters. Coco didn’t put out any body heat, so the little buggers had decided Liz’s lab coat and uniform were the optimal place to get warmth. It was actually pretty cute, in a weird sort of way, as they were all three purring in a guttural manner.

Thomas rigged the big tank the eggs had been in with a little 3D printed ‘rock’ cave, with some spare dirt the Sprygans had on board. The engineer worked hard to make the enclosure as close to the environment on MX13 as possible. By the time he was finished, they even had a little ‘pool’ made out of a file tub they weren’t using.

The problems started when the humans tried to put the creatures in the tank. They didn’t go for it. The moment Liz tried to set them down, they started whining, making this pew sound, much like baby alligators.

“I do not understand,” Coco said. “Why are they doing this? There is food and water in the enclosure, as well as a heating rock to keep them at the optimal temperature.”

“They probably imprinted on Liz when you walked in,” Thomas said. “Lots of creatures think the first thing they see after they’re born is their parent.”

“That sounds… confusing,” Coco said. “On Spryga, we either sprout from the ground near our progenitor, or we are sometimes an offshoot of them when branches or limbs break off and take root on their own.”

“This is just great,” Liz said sarcastically. “Gonna have to get a blow up bed or something, sleep in the lab now. We’re having a slumber party Coco, sorry, but apparently the kids need me.”

“Beep.”

“Because they’re newborns Roomba, they don’t know any better- OW SHIT!”

Thomas looked around, then started laughing uncontrollably. The auto-cleaning device had started its rounds, cleaning up eggshell and dirt. It had nicked his ankle with its knife.

“THERES A ROOMBA WITH A KNIFE!” He howled. “This is amazing! Why didn’t I think of that?”

He looked directly at Liz, more serious than either of the two scientists had seen so far.

“Do you think Roomba can ride the roomba? Can one of the little guys ride with them too?” He asked, so seriously.

“You humans are starting to concern me,” Coco said. “I’m getting more chocolate.”

“Can you grab me a drink too hon? These little guys are sleeping and I don’t want to wake them.” Liz was petting the little creatures when she noticed she was using her prosthetic arm. She hadn’t even noticed, it felt so seamless. She curled the fingers and scratched gently behind one of their ears.

About time, she thought. The funk was over. The new normal wouldn’t be that bad it seemed. She looked at the engineer.

“Thomas, if it’s the last thing I do on this ship, they’re riding the roomba.”

[pettytiredandjewish]

Damn the genocidal warmonger who would benefit me more personally didn't win :(

Not quite sure if this is sarcasm or not (I’m too tired to figure it out) but let me explain some things to you and others.

- The majority of politicians (not all) are “warmongers”. This includes presidents. I have my own opinions about the US involving themselves in wars (but is another long discussion for another day).

- I am not a huge fan of Harris. I don’t fully agree with her views. BUT I still voted for her and Waltz (I also am not a big fan of him too but for different reasons).

- I voted for her because I know out of all of them, she was going to be the better choice for all of us. I know a lot of yall don’t like that way of thinking but let me give you some advice. Our country has 2 major parties (democrats and republicans) and we also have Green Party and independent. When it’s time to vote for your final choice- I don’t look at third party and that’s because I know there is a very low chance that they will get electoral votes. (I have my opinions ons on electoral votes). I focus on the democrat and republican candidates. I am not a republican. I do not agree with a lot of their views and policies. But I’m also not a democrat too. I’ve shifted from them due to the fact that the majority of them thinks that Jews/Israelis are monsters. I can’t stand by a party that supports that harmful and hateful view point. When it came time for me to vote I knew I had to pick the person that would be better for all of us. Harris was the better option. When voting don’t just think about yourself but think about the ones whose lives and rights are at stake.

- I remember Trumps first term. It was scary. Me and my family were making plans to leave the country (in case we had to). I was afraid for my and my loved ones safety.

- Trump winning this election is bad for all of us. This is why voting is fucking important y’all. If you are eligible to vote- then fucking VOTE. Stop telling people to not vote because “my vote won’t make a difference” (you don’t know that) or “I don’t like either of them so I’m not voting” (guess what I and many others don’t like them either but we still voted) or my new favorite “I hate that genocidal Harris so I’m not voting or I’ll vote for trump or third party to punish her”… well congratulations ass hats! Trump is the new president.

- say goodbye to your rights because a lot of us (including me) is gonna be screwed big time.

-There will be no more reproductive rights. If you need an abortion or have a miscarriage, you are screwed. You won’t be able to get the abortion and if someone finds out that you were looking into getting one, that person could report you and you might get arrested. If you are having a miscarriage, you still have to carry it to full term or you may get arrested (or you may also die)…

- LGBTQ rights, say goodbye to those. Same sex marriage will be back on debate and possibly will be banned. Want to adopt kids? Well you won’t be able to anymore because you’re not straight or cis. You want to start transitioning, well you won’t be able to because that’s illegal…

- I can keep going. That is how fucked we are. We are so fucked it’s not even funny. I knew trump was gonna get votes from his cult- i mean supporters. I also knew that Harris was gonna get her votes too. But those who refused to vote or voted third party to punish Harris, you guys played a factor in trump winning. You are ONE OF THE REASONS why he won. So congrats! Y’all didn’t want a “genocidal” woman to be president. You just wanted someone far worser than her.

- also just so you know, Harris supported and was pushing for a ceasefire. Y’all are just mad that she wanted the hostages to be freed and that she called you guys out (pro Palestine and anti zionist) for how y’all were behaving and acting. (I won’t even go there cuz that’s a whole ass story).

- so to the pro Palestine and anti zionist groups: did you free Palestine? Did electing a monster (who is a raging racist/sextist/islamophobic/Antitsemitic/homophobic/transphobic/the list goes on…) save Palestine? Is he gonna do it? The answer to that is NO. You fucked up.

- also remember that i/p conflict is not the only thing that is going to be affected when trump takes office. The Ukraine/Russian war? Ukraine is screwed. Remember that.

[pollymorgan]

Teacher Negan - The Football Game - Part 6

Warnings: Of course, there's still a big age difference and Negan is an asshole.

My night was short. Damn short. It wasn’t planned that I would sneak back into my hotel room at dawn. But things turned out that way, and it was worth every moment.

I probably just had the hottest night of my life. We made the most of finally sharing a bed again after months of only having desks, benches, or random gym equipment. Oh man, how many times did I come home on Monday after "gym class" with bruises because Negan accidentally pushed me against some bar or edge! But this night was simply heavenly. I can’t stop thinking about it. But now that I’m arriving at my room, I feel a bit queasy in my stomach. What if Layla isn’t asleep anymore? It’s not easy to find an excuse for being in your pajamas in the hotel hallway at 4 a.m.

As quietly as possible, I open the door, and it’s literally a weight off my shoulders when I see her sleeping peacefully. Phew, lucky me! I tiptoe to the bed and carefully climb in.

“What time is it?” a very sleepy voice asks, startling me for a moment.

“Way too early... let’s go back to sleep...” I whisper as softly as possible, but my answer isn’t needed anymore. I hear her snore lightly again.

When I wake up, it’s already bright in the room, and Layla is standing in front of me, dressed and brushing her long wet hair.

“Wow, good morning sleepyhead, finally awake? We didn’t even go to bed that late yesterday...”

A bit disoriented, I look around, and immediately, rather steamy images from last night flood my mind, quickening my pulse.

“Ah, I don’t know... must have been pretty exhausted!” I lie, stretching my limbs. Then I slowly push my blanket aside and head to the bathroom. With each step, I can still clearly feel that bittersweet ache in my core. Negan promised me last night that I’d hardly be able to walk afterward, and he was right, I think, not able to suppress a grin.

After I’ve showered and brushed my teeth, I put on a gray jogging suit and head to the breakfast room with Layla, who’s already waiting impatiently for me.

When we arrive, of course, we are the last ones. The room is already filled with the clattering of dishes and loud conversations.

I grab some food from the buffet and sit down with a few guys at a table, who are already signaling with hand gestures for me to join them.

As I approach the table, I notice they seem to be having a great time over something. I take a seat and curiously ask, “What’s so funny? I want to laugh too...”

Liam speaks up, "Oh, those two have the room right next to Mister Smith's, and apparently, things got pretty hot last night..."

Once again, they can hardly contain their laughter. My expression freezes, and I can barely get a word out from shock as I quickly try to collect myself.

"What, him? He probably just had his porno turned up too loud!" I try to respond as coolly as possible, noticing my cheeks starting to flush.

One of the guys wipes away tears from his eyes that have formed from all the laughter. "No, believe me, Sam, that was live. We could almost hear everything! Mister Smith seems to really know what he's doing... Now we've been speculating for a while about who the lucky one was..."

"Hmm... maybe it was the receptionist... you know, the one with the gray floral blouse? She looked like she might have a few tricks up her sleeve..." I say, hoping they don’t notice how hard my heart is racing in my chest.

My suggestion sends the guys into another round of laughter. It really seems like they have no idea who was actually in his room. Lucky me again.

- A month later -

My friendship with Layla, Liam, and a few others from the football team continues to grow stronger. These days, I spend not only my training time with them but also all my free time.

Of course, I can tell that Liam has a huge crush on me, and I can’t help but wonder what the whole situation would look like if I didn’t have Negan. But my feelings for him are far too strong, even though I know that there’s no future for us. But sometimes, reason simply has no say, like in this case.

Today is Wednesday again, which means it's training time, and it's becoming clearer and clearer that Liam truly has incredible talent. He is by far the strongest player on the team, and I have a blast cheering him on.

My girls and I have already finished practicing our choreography, so we have a few minutes left to watch the guys. Okay, my gaze is mostly on the coach. I love it when Negan wears his sports gear, focuses on observing the players, and yells out instructions. I could watch him for hours. Involuntarily, I bite my lower lip as my thoughts drift away. Only the sound of his whistle brings me back to the here and now.

"Alright, guys, that's it... training is over for today!" Negan announces, and at that moment, Liam joyfully runs up to me and sweeps me off my feet, spinning me around in a circle. I can’t react quickly enough and let out a startled laugh.

“And how was I?” he asks beaming with joy.

“Just as amazing as always!” I reply as he sets me back down on the ground.

“Don’t you think I deserve a kiss?” he says, holding out his sweaty cheek.

Without hesitation, I intend to give him a kiss, but at the last moment, he turns his head toward me, so my lips land directly on his mouth.

Startled, I pull back. “Hey, that’s not what we wagered...” I say, shoving him hard on the shoulders, which only earns him a cheeky grin.

After we change, we all say goodbye to each other extensively at the sports field and make plans for our next meeting over the weekend. While some are still smoking a cigarette, I take a quick glance at my phone.

A new text from “Mister N.”

I turn slightly to the side and open it immediately. “You better wait for me, we need to talk!!!”

He never has time for me after training, probably because his wife is always waiting for him at home with a cooked meal. That makes his text all the more strange to me.

I automatically start playing with the necklace around my neck that Negan gave me, which I have worn ever since.

Layla throws her cigarette on the ground and stamps it out. After she blows out her last puff of smoke, she reaches out her hand and asks, “Are you coming?”

She drives me home every time after training, and we always have an incredible time going over everything in detail.

“Oh no, um, just leave it... I think I’m getting a headache. Maybe I should just walk home today, it’s not far, and it would probably do me good...,” I stutter.

She looks at me in disbelief. “At this time? Nonsense! Take a pill, and that’s that...”

"No, really... it would be better..." I try to justify myself. Suddenly, I feel a hand on my shoulder and hear a very familiar voice behind me.

“I can drive Samantha... it's right on my way..."

Shocked, I turn around and look directly into Negan's face. He is freshly showered, his hair neatly slicked back. He has his sports bag slung over his shoulder and is now wearing a simple pair of blue jeans and a green t-shirt.

“You?!“ Layla asks, surprised, while I feel the questioning looks from everyone else standing around us.

Negan begins to grin, “Why not? Do I look like a damn serial killer?”

I shrug, “Well, if it's on the way... I mean...”

Negan just turns around and walks ahead. “Well, make up your mind, girl; I don't have all day..." he calls back.

Somewhat skeptically, I look around and then say, “So, I’ll see you guys at the latest on the weekend...”

After a quick goodbye from everyone, I hurriedly follow him, still hearing quite loud murmurs among my friends. They only think he’s driving me home, they have no idea, I try to convince myself.

Negan walks silently in front of me, and I have a hard time keeping up without having to run. As soon as he gets in his car, he starts the engine, and I barely manage to take a seat in the passenger side before he drives off.

"And now?" I ask him somewhat nervously, as I can’t gauge the situation at all.

Negan stares straight ahead at the road and says unfazed, “Now I drive you home!”

I buckle my seatbelt and also avert my gaze from him. “You wanted me to wait for you. Why?”

A jolt goes through me as Negan abruptly slams on the brakes at a red light. Then he looks directly at me, “Is he fucking you?”

I stare at him in disbelief, “Excuse me? Who do you mean?”

"Oh come on, don't play dumb, it doesn’t suit you!" Negan replies as he accelerates way too fast again.

I continue to stare at him in confusion because I truly can’t find words to describe the entire situation.

“That greasy guy, Liam... are you two sleeping together?” Negan asks, clearly irritated.

I slowly begin to get angry, and a big lump forms in my throat. What right does he have to be upset with me?

"And if so, what then? I didn’t know we’ve sworn loyalty to each other. I mean, after all, you're married too!" I blurt out provocatively, crossing my arms defiantly over my chest.

Suddenly, there’s such a silence in the car that it feels worse to me than any harsh word or false accusation.

I don’t want to argue with him, especially not over something like this. That's why I'm rowing back with my answer. 'But it's not like that, nothing is going on between Liam and me, really...' I add quietly.

'Leave my wife out of this...' he murmurs almost inaudibly.

For a while, I study his profile and then, feeling a bit shy, I place my hand on his thigh. My fingers slowly trace up and down his jeans as I observe every little reaction on his face. He tries to hide it, but I know him pretty well by now. He starts shifting a bit in his seat, which makes me smile.

'I only want you...' I whisper softly, leaning a little closer to him as far as my seatbelt allows.

He glances at me for a brief moment, and our eyes meet for a few seconds. But that little eye contact is enough to make my whole lower body start tingling like crazy.

'Then show me... show me how much you want me...' he challenges me, and I don’t have to think about it for long.

[wilted]

this is what i mean when people online are not normal this country is not smart like wow yes blame the people who actually want better things for the people in this country not the mass which is “we need a business man to run the country!!!! we don’t need anymore politicians” like holy shit. i don’t think people realize how shit her campaign was how badly she presented herself there was barely even anything that wasn’t just little funny pr moments, and trumps out here spouting everything evil that the mass majority loves to suck right off of his fingers. hell website

[shiftymimilily]

what do you think happens to realities after we leave? say i want to leave my current reality because i’m sick okay so i shift, is this “version” of me not real anymore or am i just not conscious of their pain? i’m having a philosophical crisis because i love myself and i don’t deserve to suffer at all yk so i kinda want to stay in “bad” situations to help myself out and i don’t know if this line of thinking even makes sense but i would appreciate your perspective on it

I know, it's not really directly about permashifting, but I think my experiences here are relevant to it. So I hope you sit down and listen for a bit.

A thought about permashifting from both sides of the coin.

Well, firstly, thank you. Somehow, you got me to unlock some of my past memories from my permashift going here. I intentionally locked them behind certain checkpoints I believe so I can access and relearn them again in due time, and I think this was one of them. Funny on how it goes full-circle here. So, instead of an answer, I give you, hopefully, a peace of mind.

I went through a similar crisis back then: What would happen to myself in the reality I was in right now old if I had left permanently? I’ve seen and experienced both sides in a sense. I was in your place, as my "other-self" as I will call them, and I am perhaps where someone wants to be when they go to a new place. In the "new place". Wouldn't it be so selfish to leave people behind? To leave A PART of myself behind?

Then I realized, this was me. Both are me. We’re not separated, ever. This is what WE want. In a sense, I can live in peace with their suffering because they suffer in my name and I gave them meaning to suffer because I was what gave them, or that self, the will to go through suffering. They’ll forever be my other-self, and that’s what they wished to willingly to be. What I wished to be. They'll forever have existed somewhere, as part of you. That is unchangeable.

You're such a beautiful soul to be so considerate. I assure you however that they'll be okay because I know I'm okay. Have faith. You're okay. Truly. Just breathe. You don't have to stay somewhere you don't have to, and we don't have to go anywhere if we don't want to. Whether we stay or go or return, life goes on, and that's not something to be scared of, but to embrace. It’s not wrong to want to be in another space. Your guilt and shame, is natural. However, on the grand scale of things? It's okay. My current existence here as a self is help enough to help the other-self I was.

I won't be able to answer what absolutely happens when we go to another relait. I don't think beings like myself are supposed to anyway. Maybe the world ceases to exist, maybe it doesn't and it's its own thing. I have my theories of course, but acknowledge I don't know how this sector of the multiverse works, nor do I need to. You say it's okay for yourself now and it will be, and that's more than enough for it to not be selfish. If you're willing to let yourself go somewhere, then let go. Approval had been given a long time ago when you decided to go another place.

But if it does, I can safely say they'll move on without you. They'll do whatever they'll do. Go through grief. The suffering. You also miss out on the healing. The smiles. The moments in the future of whatever timeline that is. It's bittersweet. You won’t know what happens or what's happening to them, but you have to trust yourself as you right. This is the wish: that's what you can respect. That this other you might not make it the way you wish them to, but they will have lived and that’s more than what the universe can ever ask for with a shifter. As a shifter. To exist. To manifest. To shift. To be.

[jackoshadows]

Additionally, the problem I have with Sansa is that despite the author putting her in these situations she is very static as a character with very little character growth.

I would have thought that Joffrey turning his sadism on Sansa would have caused her to change her opinions of Arya. Or that she would have more pity and remorse for her opinions of Mycah. Maybe some reflection on her betraying her father by tattling to Cersei, leading to the girls being stuck in KL.

We have entire paragraphs of Arya's angst of whether her mother and Robb would want her back because she had to kill someone to escape. Sansa never feels that same angst about any of her previous actions, she is always confident in the love of her family.

I would have thought that Sansa herself being a victim of Westerosi patriarchy in KL , being used as a marriage pawn, given less value because she's a girl, would have seen her understanding where Arya was coming from. Or the Tyrells having used her as a pawn would have her understanding that no, Margaery would not have made for a better sister than Arya just because she was so beautiful and graceful.

This is why I still don't stan the Stark sisters relationship. I need Sansa to grow as a character and learn to love Arya as she is for me to like their relationship. Otherwise it's just going to continue to be more hits for Arya's self esteem to have any kind of relationship with Sansa. Unless Arya grows to be confident and self-assured enough for Sansa's opinions to not matter anymore.

This is the same with Sansa playing a pretend bastard. As you mention, her situation is entirely different to Jon's because both she and LF know that it's pretense for a larger purpose - making her Lady of Winterfell in the North. Sansa never has the angst and internal conflicts Jon does, never experienced the ostracization that Jon did growing up in WF. Littlefinger gives her authority and power in the Vale that Jon never had. For example, pushing the Maester to drug SweetRobin.

For another, just like with her and Arya, there is no introspection here, no reflection on unfair societal prejudices. She is 'aghast' at having to play a bastard, she is embarrassed and horrified when Harry the Heir calls her one and runs off to LF to complain.

However at no point, despite playing pretend bastard for several months, does she reflect on her own classism against Jon growing up in Winterfell, that she wouldn't have had an issue at all if Harry the Heir had treated Jon Snow the same way if they met two years earlier. At no point does she stop to think - 'Hey wait a minute, maybe this whole bastardy situation is unfair, we shouldn't be prejudiced against them for how they are born!'

This is what is so funny about all the bnf Sansa stan essays about how Sansa was subconsciously basing her bastard persona on Jon Snow. For one Sansa does not even know Jon Snow all that well, they never interacted much, he does not show up in all her nostalgic memories of home and family. For another, she admits to basically forgetting about his existence until Myranda Royce mentions that Jon is LC at the Wall.

In fact Sansa continues to be classist, playing matchmaker for the bastard Mya Stone with the low born Brune because only the low born are good enough for the bastard.

And despite all the fanon/headcanon fanart of Sansa and Mya Stone being friends and girl power and all that - in canon, Sansa and Mya Stone are not friends. Mya works for Sansa, takes orders from her and helps transport them from the Eyrie. Sansa's friend is the high born Myranda Royce with whom she gossips about Mya Stone and her affairs.

Even Catelyn had a moment of guilt when she meets Mya Stone as she reminds Cat of Jon Snow before going back to her hatred of bastards.

"Mya Stone, if it please you, my lady," the girl said. It did not please her; it was an effort for Catelyn to keep the smile on her face. Stone was a bastard's name in the Vale, as Snow was in the north, and Flowers in Highgarden; in each of the Seven Kingdoms, custom had fashioned a surname for children born with no names of their own. Catelyn had nothing against this girl, but suddenly she could not help but think of Ned's bastard on the Wall, and the thought made her angry and guilty, both at once. She struggled to find words for a reply. - Catelyn, AGoT

And that's why Catelyn will always be a more complex, more human, better written character for me than Sansa.

This is also why it's utterly, absolutely baffling when fandom bnfs hold Sansa up as some kind of great social reformer, 'embodiment of hope' 'changing the system from within the system' and all that nonsense when Sansa is the most pro status quo and has changed the least and still holds to Westerosi patriarchal sexist and classist ideals.

Her story has never been about reform and change, it's been about taking down LF, about playing his game as dirty as he does, about the student eventually becoming the master and payback for what LF did to her family.

I really hate that Jon//sa shippers have equate Sansa's Alayne Stone arc to Jon Snow believing he's a bastard. Because those two characters experience totally different situations.

Even if Jon is at some point revealed to be a Targaryen prince ( which isn't confirmed for all we know he could still be a Targaryen bastard) it won't change the fact that for the first 17 years of his life he lived with the bastard stigma. Nor it would magically erase the feeling of not belonging he felt on his own home due to his status and the way his father's wife was treating him.

Meanwhile, Sansa has lived her whole life knowing she's a noble lady and even now she's posing as Alayne she still knows that she's a Stark of Winterfell. It's different to pretend to be a bastard than to actually believe your whole life to be one.

And since I usually focus my meta on Jon, let's focus this one on Sansa and describe how, in my humble opinion, I believe this comparison is unfair for her, too.

Sansa's biggest problem right now isn't that she pretends to be a bastard. Actually, that's hardly an issue for her considering that Petyr, who poses as her father, treat her like the lady of the house and allows her to have all the comforts ladies of noble heritage have. Her biggest problem is that she has to live with that predator, who half fantasises she's the daughter he could have with his beloved Cat and half views her as the idealised younger version of his beloved Cat. And honestly, living with a creepy pedo is one of the worst things a teenage kid could have to deal with.

Returning to her Alayne Stone persona, I do believe that Martin choose her to pretend to be a bastard for a reason. But that has nothing to do with Jon Snow or any other character fans ship her with. Shocking I know, but asoiaf female characters exist outside of your preferred pairings and some-most!- of their plotlines exist to cater themselves alone.

Sansa grew up with an narrow view of the world most Westerosi noble girls usually have. When Joffrey and Cersei showed their true colors and her father died, her fantasies were shattered but she continued to have a narrow view of the world as she was still a noble who right then was also a hostage. By making her pretend to be a bastard while she's in Eyrie, Martin has given her the opportunity to associate and talk with a larger variety of people than she could have as a noble lady. Also, by temporarily changing her status, she's given the opportunity to witness how things work for those who are less fortunate than those who are born nobles - even if this happens only on a theoretical level bc as I said above practically she's still enjoying the benefits of nobility. I do believe this experience of hers will enrich her view of the world and add even more layers to the already complex personality Martin has crafted for her. And I do believe it's a shame to diminish that for the sake of a crack ship.

[dinozarr]

AW MAN I CANT SEND MEMES TJIS IS SO AWKWARD 🙁🙁🤏🏽 BUT HEY NEW MUTUAL IM KARMA HRU‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️💆🏽‍♀️💆🏽‍♀️🤏🏽🤏🏽🤏🏽🤏🏽🤏🏽

OHEMGEE HOLA AMOR🤭🤭 IM YOCIÉL, OR CZAR 🤓☝️‼️ YOU CAN CHOOSE WHICHEVER TO CALL ME IDM!!! BUT IM GOOD just dreading going to work today🤧 but also gawking over my beloved nissan skyline cus ugh do i love that mf car🤕🤕🤕been my dream car since i first watched 2f2f as a baby.

[luc1-anna]

Sukuna definitely made you ride his stomach mouth in the first night of being together, testing your capabilities of being his newly wife.

"'Kuna!" Holding onto his shoulder as you grind your hips along his mouth, tongue greedily sucking in all your escaped juices, getting into every nook and cranny. Tongue dipping in and out of your poor cunnie, stretching it wide due to his size, he had you a crying mess, tears dribbling down your face, mascara making it even worse as it left black streaks all along your cheeks only making you look more funny to him. "Your so slow lady" taking control as he grabbed your hips, fingers practically touching eachother since you were so small compared to him. Speeding up your hips, rubbing circles along your poor clit, only making you want to cum even more.