#maybe all that talk about living every day because life is so fragile and whatever

[disappointing-critter]

New comfort game: found

[shalotttower]

Fractalize (part 1)

Title: Fractalize

Fandom: Hunter x Hunter

Summary: Lack of hope creates a strange kind of numbness.

Word count: 3700+

Characters: Chrollo x Reader (female)

Notes: yandere Chrollo, kidnapped, depressed and miserable Reader, Reader is dissociating a lot, morbid pondering, suicidal thoughts, explicit/triggering language/words, Reader's thoughts on possible sexual assault in future. Part 2

Fractalize - making things into smaller copies of themselves over and over again.

Sometimes you stand in front of a mirror and try to picture yourself in another timeline. One where your life didn’t take this specific turn. You try to imagine a different setting, a different apartment - perhaps the one you had before Chrollo started moving you around like a luggage bag. Maybe living in a cottage by the sea or an old farmhouse. Someplace rural, peaceful. With a garden and fresh air, far away from the city noises.

It's difficult at first, your reflection keeps slipping through your mental fingers every time you think the image is set in place. But with practice it becomes easier, sort of, so you can now see yourself clearly as you brush your hair - not here.

A blue dress on, made for nights at parties with friends. Laughing until your stomach hurts and eyes become sore. Making silly faces over alcoholic beverages. Or you can wear your favourite jeans with a high waist and head out to the pub, the same one with crooked stools and a broken sign. Drink cheep bear, eat greasy peanuts from a little bowl, listen to some small band play unknown and unheard songs.

Leave intoxicated, and everything is too fast and vibrant and wonderful until you're back home.

It's your favourite pastime now: imagine, remake and slip.

Imagine. Remake. Slip.

You don't quite remember the last time you laughed, a month ago maybe. Maybe more. Lack of hope creates a strange kind of numbness, dull, cold, you would compare it to a winter plastered all over your insides, but it's almost colder than that. It freezes everything and turns it into icicles hanging off the roof.

Remake, slip.

You have new vocabulary now.

"Mm" - is for when he asks you if you like a dress or a top and it doesn't matter how you actually feel about it, because it's going to end up being worn anyway.

"Okay" - is for when Chrollo sets another fancy meal for you on a dinner table and "Eat, don't be shy".

"I'm not hungry" - doesn't work with him, even if it's the truth. You always eat what's put in front of you, that's the rule, because he's not above shoving the spoon into your mouth, so you spare yourself the tears and sobs that will probably come with that. It's so bizarre: how much effort he puts into keeping you alive when you're anything but.

"Whatever you want" - is for when he asks you something that requires a choice, between two or three options usually. He's not one for an extensive list.

"If you say so" - for everything else.

You used to delude yourself with the idea that if you managed to appear pleasant enough, pleasant-talking, pleasant-listening, smiling a bit here and there, it would gain you some privileges and perhaps a bit more freedom. It did. But never where it really mattered. Those little things were absolutely inconsequential in the grand scheme. Yes, you can have that sweater, dear. No, you can't have your own bed. Yes, you can come shopping with me, if you give me a kiss. No, you can't take walks without me holding your hand.

Yes this and no that.

Those moments were fragile and so very takeable that they didn't give you any sense of accomplishment, just a short respite and bitter aftertaste that made you feel pathetic.

Wasn't worth it.

***

"Do you like animals, dear?" Chrollo asks out of the blue one day. He's reading something on his tablet while you're curled up on the couch, watching TV.

It's a new series that's been on the major channels for a few weeks, a mystery drama about a girl who moves into a house she inherited from her grandfather. The picture provides a distraction enough to have you forgetting where you are for a brief period three times a week.

You pull the blanket higher. "I do."

He knows it.

The girl on the screen finds a mysterious box hidden in the attic. Perhaps there's something valuable inside. Or information about her grandpa; your fingers tug on a loose blanket thread without much thought.

"What kind?"

Or maybe it's just a time capsule with photos and postcards and random objects collected over the years.

Or-

You had a cat before he took you. A foster grey ragdoll with blue eyes who liked to rest on your belly and bump her head against your chin. You called her Miss Whiskerton and kissed her little nose, because she did act like a proper lady - poised, dignified and entirely too proud to eat food mixed with medicine. The worst enemy Miss Whiskerton has ever had in her cat life was the corner of your couch. When you weren't paying attention, she would dig her claws into the fabric and leave thin lines. You hope that someone took her in.

She probably thought you abandoned her.

"Cats."

Chrollo hums in acknowledgment and continues scrolling through whatever he's looking at - maybe news or auction listings, you don't know nor do you really care. You shift under the blanket, pulling your legs closer to your body.

"We can get one, if you'd like."

"No."

Your answer is immediate and short, without thinking. You know it, you know him by now - there's nothing Chrollo does out of spontaneous generosity, it always benefits him in some way. And you've studied him enough to figure that any pet would only be a tool to keep you tamed and compliant. Puppies make life better. Happier, lighter, with goofy smiling faces and wiggling tails. Cats make life better with soft purrs and paws stomping on your chest. They're too easy to love.

"Why not?" There's a sound of tablet set on a wooden surface.

The girl on the screen is trying to solve a combination lock on the box when the TV switches off and your little world of carefully shot scenes and scripted lines vanishes. You don't need to turn around to guess where's the remote.

She almost had it, but now you won't know what's inside until Thursday evening.

Your reflection stares back from the dead screen, blank-faced and with a blanket pulled up your nose. It tickles a bit. "Because I don't want one."

A chair creaks. "Why?"

You close your eyes shut for a moment before opening them again. This is tiring. Always probing, digging, pushing. Trying to find chinks in your armor, but all you're wearing is just a flimsy dress with thin straps and a blanket you wish could swallow you whole.

"Don't need it."

"You said you like animals," Chrollo sits next to you and places a hand on top of your covered legs. He squeezes your thigh and you stare ahead, wishing he would just leave you alone tonight.

"I do." Your fingers twitch under the blanket, nails scratching at the fabric.

Strange. Sometimes it feels like he understands perfectly that you want to be alone, have time for yourself and don't want his constant physical presence. At the same time Chrollo brushes this all aside like old tin foil wrappers - insignificant. He pulls the blanket down and you cling on it stubbornly for a few seconds before letting go. His thumb and index finger grasp your chin and turn your face towards him so you have no choice but to meet his eyes.

There's such still intensity within him that made your skin crawl whenever he looked at you with this much focus and attention. You don't know what he saw there most times, it used to be fear or anger or sadness - right now it's none of these things. Everything inside you feels jammed and stiff.

"We should get a fish then," he continues, brushing hair out of your forehead. "You can watch it swim around, wouldn't that be nice?"

Chrollo talks to you like this sometimes, as if you're a child who needs to be convinced to eat veggies or take medicine. Like you're simple-minded and he's reasoning with you out of good will. It's sickening. You hate it.

"I don't want a pet," you repeat the words slowly. "If you're going to give me something only to take it away, then I don't want it."

His finger leisurely stroking your chin pauses at the edge of your bottom lip. Something flickers behind his eyes, it's barely noticeable but you've become good at catching those minuscule shifts. He smiles, yet there's nothing joyful about it. "Take it away? Why would I do that, dear?"

"Because that's what you do. Because that's how you are." You don't try to pull free from his hold, he'll only tighten it; not enough to hurt, no, he is too suave and polished for that - or wants to appear so - but enough for you to feel trapped under his palm.

There's something off about you, you can tell, but are not quite able to discern what or where. It sits in the very structure of your bones and eats away with ravenous appetite. An imbalance in the gut. Fever-warm body, cold fingers. Thoughts like potholes.

"And how am I exactly, according to you?" His voice is light, playful, a stark contrast to his eyes that study you with unnerving precision. Chrollo rarely loses his temper and never gets violent with you (yet, you correct yourself), but he has other ways of expressing displeasure, and they're petty, ugly and cold.

"Cruel," the word rolls off your tongue so effortlessly that almost frightens you; it's easy to tell the truth when you're this numb.

He looks taken aback for a split second, and the smile freezes. His hand stops midway to your hair. Then everything's gone.

Chrollo releases you and leans back into the cushions, almost thoughtful, like your observation is something that requires careful consideration.

"I suppose, it depends," he says finally.

"On what?"

"On how you choose to see things. Your perspective is bound to be biased, dear."

You don't respond.

To continue this conversation would be pointless and circular, like running on a treadmill, like everything else between you and Chrollo, really. He simply has too many answers to any possible argument, and no matter how convincing you manage to make them sound, he'll poke holes into each one. You don't want a fish. Or a cat. Or a dog, a bird, anything that moves and breathes and looks at you with big, trusting eyes.

Chrollo is cruel. Not in a way that's straightforward and brutal. Not in a way of someone who'd tear your limbs apart or rip off a fly's wing to see it wiggle. You have no doubt that he is capable of such a thing, but that would be uncouth. Cruelty in his case is a quieter, more delicate affair - in a way of a sculptor who'd chisel off everything unnecessary and unneeded, no matter the size or significance, to produce something entirely his.

His hands are soft, his voice is always composed, and he wears well tailored clothes. But the rest is sharp, clean and merciless.

"I think I'll go to bed," you say and push away the blanket.

"It's early."

"Mm."

He takes your hand just as you're about to slide off the sofa. Chrollo's always faster than you, always ahead and always observing, and that little realization while bitter is not so shocking anymore, more like another fact that you file away from your interactions.

You watch him. Wait.

"You're distraught," he says. "But you should know by now that there's no need for that."

Your hand remains in his grasp, limp and heavy.

"I don't enjoy seeing you upset, dear. Even more if you make false conclusions."

You turn to see the expression on his face - and there isn't one, at least not the type that most people would make. There are no frowning eyebrows, no clenched jaw that would indicate irritation, nothing like that.

"You're giving me too little credit," his tone is quiet as he runs his fingers up and down your wrist. "My intentions are not to hurt you. They are much, much sweeter than that."

"But you would," you say quietly and lean closer, ignoring the obvious implication behind his words. There is a hollow sensation inside of your head that prompts you to speak, everything is hollow - body and mind, heart, the space in your guts, your throat. "You would hurt me, if that's what you thought was necessary. Rip me apart and leave me deformed beyond repair, to fit into whatever framework you've laid, you would do that."

You're not being deliberately cryptic or fatalistic. These are your observations, based on a period of months spent together. They take root in no one being there for you anymore, in your phone which is long gone, in your closed accounts, your missing laptop and old clothes, the entire previous life in the city that has been discarded for something new. Chrollo was very methodical, you can give him that.

He doesn't listen, he studies your responses. Every single word. He has a talent for that, for absorbing everything about you while hardly ever letting you glimpse his interior - all that you know about him are tiny slivers which you picked up through living together, observation, accidental bits.

You expect him to contradict your statement, to offer a logical explanation why you're wrong, but instead Chrollo brings your hand to his lips and presses a kiss against your knuckles. The touch is light and dry.

"You're not entirely wrong, dear," he says and moves closer until you can smell his aftershave, something fresh.

His proximity is uncomfortable, it always is and probably always will be.

"I'm right then," you say.

"No," he keeps your hand in his grasp. "But you're not entirely wrong either. That's what makes you interesting."

There's a strange kind of fondness in his voice, it's subtle, yet undeniably present. You've never felt less interesting in your life, in a dress with thin straps that's too fancy for a lazy day at home and your bare feet and tangled hair.

"If you say so," you respond and slowly tug your hand free. "I really want to sleep now."

You get up, and he lets you go without another proposition. The blanket falls off onto the sofa, and before you slip into the semi-darkness of the bedroom, he says,

"Not beyond repair. But I like to believe we can both agree it doesn't have to come to that."

***

The drive feels endless. Houses and streets blur in a mix of colors, shapes and people, which soon change to an empty highway with greenery on both sides. Trees and fields, tall grass swaying gently in the wind and rare cars passing you by. Chrollo's hand is resting on your leg; he hasn't moved it since the car started, but you choose to ignore it in favor of your regular pastime, the one that's made of imaginary worlds and places where the timeline stretches differently.

Mostly it's just you and the layout of your fake apartment.

Imagine, remake, slip. Repeat the steps until it becomes muscle memory.

You have this daydream on loop now. Wooden floor and wide windows, lots of sunlight. Books everywhere, comfy clothes and not a single skirt in your closet. A cup of tea with honey in the morning, and Miss Whiskerton curled into a soft grey ball on your lap. You feed her salmon in a shiny bowl, occasionally she catches a lizard outside and drops the tail on your doorstep as an offering, looking immensely proud of herself.

A smile slips on your face without meaning to, a wobbly thing; you promptly wipe it off.

It would be a crime to show such blatant joy. This fantasy has become so sweetly personal that every fiber of your being resists even acknowledging it in front of Chrollo. He can sense a stray happy thought from miles away, like a hound, and will never stop prodding until everything is raw and tender. You've learned to say less in his presence, especially if it's something that has you invested. Chrollo knows how to pick things apart.

You lean your cheek against the glass. This world would never happen, never in a million years, but dreaming doesn't hurt anyone, does it?

Your grandma, wearing an apron, sets a tray filled with fresh pastries on a table, because she's amazing like that. She fusses and worries and pretends to scold you. For not calling enough, for not coming sooner, for not eating well. For leaving.

"Dear."

You almost jump.

Chrollo's voice brings you back where his hand is heavy on your leg, you're wearing a dress above the knee and aren't allowed to use scissors or knives.

"Mm?"

"That frown of yours," he says, turning into a small road. The surroundings change again, it's quiet here, not a soul in sight. "It's been there for fifteen minutes now."

You sit up straight and move your hair out of your eyes. Chrollo's a perceptive one, so this is a reminder not to sink too deep around him, unless you absolutely need it.

"Was just thinking."

"You do it a lot lately," he states and looks at you from the corner of his eye.

True, but you have no intention to confirm it. First, he won't like the reason behind these thoughts. Second, he will dig and try to worm his way in. No. Most of what you've been fixating on, staring out of the window like a mindless drone, or reading and rereading pages that you barely grasped, would fail to create anything more complex in his heart than desire to pull it out.

For whatever twisted reason, Chrollo cares for your well-being, or, more precisely, your acceptance of his advances. Yet his way of caring isn't nurturing in any sense.

Chrollo's interest (you don't dare call it love) is crushing, too heavy to carry - he'll find what troubles you and "fix it" in way that will twist it into something pathetic. Something that shows how you have nothing else to cling on but him. You're not stupid enough to keep falling into this trap. Being a slow learner doesn't mean you don't learn at all.

He's done it before. He'll do it again. So you reply, "I haven't noticed."

His thumb rubs circles on your thigh; you press your shoulder against the car door as if hoping it might open. It doesn't, much to your disappointment.

"What was on your mind then?"

Something you shouldn't tell him, that's for sure. Chrollo's watching you, even if his eyes are trained on the road.

"Random stuff," you say. Half-truths, half-truths are safe. "A weird dream I had this morning."

If you bothered to look, you'd see a raised eyebrow and the faintest hint of amusement at the corners of his mouth. You don't.

"Tell me."

You hate when he does that.

"It was boring."

"I'm interested in anything that made you so pensive."

Chrollo likes conversations with you, even if they're short. You can tell that he does, or he wouldn't be trying to make you talk and getting subtly frustrated when you choose not to. It never shows outright, Chrollo is very gifted at keeping his calm exterior, but there are certain giveaways like the slight tightening of his hand, an emphasized "dear", a pause here, or a quiet exhale through the nose. You could make a list out of these.

If you ignore him, he gets quiet and handsy or petty enough to throw away the only dress you feel comfortable in. Stop bringing you new books. Take you to places you hate.

It's always the small things that kill you, not the big, dramatic ones. The devils in the details.

"There was a lizard," you begin, and he hums in response, prompting you to continue. "It was cute with brown spots and a tiny tail."

Lies weave themselves easily, intertwine with truths and turn it into something that resembles a story.

"It was sitting on my windowsill and I wanted to pet it. A cat came out of nowhere and almost ate it, then I woke up. It's a silly dream."

There. Nothing to dissect here, not that you can see. Just a nonsensical dream, filled with random happenings and strange emotions.

"And that's why you frowned for fifteen minutes?"

"Yes, I got sad."

Yes, you think. Yes, Chrollo. I frowned, because I care for the damn lizard that doesn't exist, an animal from a dream. A stupid musing, nothing special, a very mundane and simple thing, because people do have silly dreams sometimes, and it's not a crime. It's not a crime and has nothing to do with that fact that I have a whole dream world where I'm not with you in my head.

"How peculiar. You never struck me as the type to get upset over something like this."

"You never asked," you respond flatly and Chrollo's hand on your thigh moves an inch.

It brushes up, closer to where you really, really don't want it to be, so you squeeze his fingers hard and redirect them to the curve of your knee.

"True," he says after a pause, not sounding too bothered. A month ago you would've brushed his hand off completely, probably that's why. Chrollo is convinced that with enough patience and effort he'll be able to close that final barrier between you both. Time, coaxing, a dose or two of endearment, some carefully calculated touch - but you'd rather stick a knife through your ribs than have sex with him. Or his patience will simply run out and he'll rape you. You're not delusional. Not a fool. "Well, that can be fixed. I'll make sure to ask about your dreams more often, dear."

You lean back into the seat and stare ahead, this time without anything pleasant on your mind. Of course he will. Of course he'll take this as a sign to dig deeper and invade that small bit of solace, Chrollo can't simply co-exist. He wants it all.

"Mm," you say.

Your new vocabulary is such a handy thing.

[bruhnze]

Summertime sadness - Lucy Bronze x Ona Batlle

Summary: Lucy leaves Barca.

Word count: about 4,5k

Warnings: angst kinda, mostly smut, idk, her leaving barca is also worth a warning, also mentions of Chelsea 🤢

Summertime sadness

´´Babe´´ Lucy said on a hot evening, while she and Ona were eating dinner. ´´I had a talk with my agent´´.  The back doors of the house stood open and every now and then a little cool breeze blew inside.

Ona looked up when her lover broke the silence that had hung in the air that night. She studied Lucy's face extensively.

~

In recent weeks, there had been a lot of turmoil surrounding the decision for Lucy's future. Lucy's agent and the high-ups at Barca had wanted to know what her plans were, but Lucy was with her head in the clouds.

Ona had been wondering was going on, why Lucy had been so distracted. When she saw Lucy pushing away a phone call for the umpteenth time, she had asked Lucy what the hell was going on.

Lucy had cried out that she didn't want to think about her future, that she was getting old and that she needed time to think but that because of the administrative hassle, everything had to go fast fast fast. While she could not think about anything at all because 'her heart and head were full of Ona' and nagged ‘those stupid jerks in the office only thought about money, while life is about football and love’.

Ona had said that Lucy really needed to figure it out, so much unaddressed stress and insecurities would surely not help her competitive performance, and Ona mentioned that she had been finding Lucy a bit absent from their relationship lately as well.

That evening had ended in the bedroom, Ona actually didn't approve of the fact that Lucy had the tendency to use sex to cover up difficult conversations, yet Ona had not resisted and she hadn't broached the subject again in the following days.

Over the past few days, Lucy had indeed seemed brighter again, but Ona had thought that the 'ball' to start the conversation was in Lucy's court, at her pace.

~

‘’Babe?’’ Lucy asked again and reached across the table to her freckled girlfriends hand ''who's the absent one now'' she laughed softly ''are you all right baby, where were you thinking?''.

Ona smiled weakly ''this is going to be a difficult conversation, isn't it Luce?''.

A tear rolled down Lucy's cheek but Lucy's expression did not change, she still looked quite cheerful ''yes'' she sighed ''but I think we can handle it''.

"Shall we sit on the couch then, I'm not that hungry anymore" Ona said with a fragile voice.

..

They sat on the couch, but not like they normally sat, they now sat next to each other, without them touching, it almost seemed formal to Lucy.

"Please come to me baby, I want to hold you Ona," the dark-haired defender said.

"Dios mio, I will sit with you but please tell me what is wrong because now it feels like you are going to tell me that u will go the other side of the world" Ona looked at Lucy with a raised eyebrow to see if that might be the case, that Lucy maybe wanted to go to the USA to play in the NWSL.

Lucy threw her arms around Ona, "no, not the NWSL darling, but that was also discussed for a while, but I don't think that's fitting for this moment in my career and first of all I can't live that far from you."

‘’So you're not going far..’’ Ona tried to look for the positives.

"Uhm..no.." Lucy sighed "not.. I’m… i..let me think about how I can tell you this"

‘’joder, spit it out Lucy, the waiting makes me more crazy than whatever you will tell me’’ Ona said and then sat up to face her lover ‘’nooo te no vas al puto Madrid’’  (You're not going to fucking Madrid)  she yelled ‘’puto infierno, joder, no puedo hacer el amor con el rival terrestre’’ (damn it, I can't make love with our Nr.1 rival).

‘’No, no, no te preocupes Ona’’ (No don’t worry Ona) Lucy grinned ‘’but would you not sleep with the enemy? I remember pretty fun times at the World Cup?’’

Ona pushed Lucy’s chest again ‘’that’s different, you cannot choose to play for the Spanish national team, so I accept that you play for another country, but in Spain you are catalán property’’.

 ‘’Sooooo… I can go to Levante Las Planas?’’ Lucy said, thinking she was very funny.

''sure'' scoffed Ona ''if you want to be a loser so badly yeah, heck, maybe Levante can achieve something with you there''.

Now Lucy doesn't find it funny anymore "but what did you mean by property?".

‘’Tu ets meu’’ (You’re mine) Ona said ‘’per tant ets de Catalunya’’ (So therefore you are Catalonia's).

Lucy smiled but wanted to tell Ona what she had discussed with her agent.

‘’Okay, so’’ Lucy got serious ‘’You are supposed to be a rightback, not left, but right and Barcelona’s new coach sees that too-

‘’I’’ Ona wanted to interrupt but Lucy stopped her ‘’tell me after baby, first let me continue’’.

‘’the new coach sees that too, my agent and a lot of other people got around the table and we had an honest talk about the future of Barca,.. it.''

Lucy cleared her throat.

‘’their plan was to make you-, their plan is, to make you the starting right back and I would stay in the team as a bench player, kinda competing with you for playing minutes,.

Her voice became a little weaker.

‘’But I have to accept that I am getting old, older, I mean, old in the football world’’ she mumbled ‘’but I want to play as much minutes as I can and with my knees and with my age, that mean that I have to go down a step, like a downgrade club, because I cant compete with all these amazing, fit’’ she looked at Ona ‘’young, strong players’’.

She continued ‘’I- Its, I think Barca is smart to want to play their fittest right back and I think they are making the right choice, and I don’t want to be competing with you for minutes and ..

Lucy looked at Ona loving and earnest.

.. honestly, I think that I would not get very far in that competition, which is fair because you are entering your prime and I am exiting mine, it’s a miracle that im even still playing if we take my knee in to the equation’’.

‘’Luce’’ Ona said with a lump in her throat.

‘’it’s okay Ona’’ Lucy said as she pressed a kiss against Ona’s temple ‘’it’s realistic and you know what my next goal is?, I will go after Clarence Seedorf’s record-

‘’A five-time Champions League winner, with three different clubs’’ Ona interrupted her, citing the sentence she had heard Lucy say after she had come home from an event were she had met the man. ‘’okay so a club in the champions leage?’’.

‘’Oh fuck’’ Lucy laughed ‘’right, I didn’t even tell you yet, it’s Chelsea’’.

‘’What the fuck’’ Ona gasped and got up, pacing around the living room.

‘’Ona, baby, I know right fucking Chelsea but it was the best offer and-

‘’You are gonna visit me!’’ the Spaniard called out ‘’aquest país fred?’’ (the cold country?) ‘’I am not going- wait what the fuck Lucy, do you realize you will be playing there then? Didn’t you run away from the cold and the rain?’’

Lucy laughed, happy that her girlfriends first thought was the cold and who was going to visit who and not about if a long distance relationship would work.

She also stood up and walked to her lover ‘’I love you’’ she said before pressing her lips against Ona’s.

..

The couple had spoken about their plans and how they would arrange the practical matters when the time came.

Ona thought the officals of FC Barcelona had not really been understanding, the club didn't want to provide anything special for Lucy to say goodbye.

But Lucy had reassured her and said that it was okay and that she understood the club, after all, she had only played at there for 2 years while Mariona and Panos were practically part of the interior at FCB.

They tried to make the most of the last months they lived together and, to top it all off, had booked a holiday to Cuba. After that they would both have to go to their national camp and after that season would start.

...

They were in Cuba, Lucy had booked the trip so that they would hop from place to place, getting the chance to explore the island properly.

''Lucyyy'' Ona whined ''just tell me where we are going, i dont know what to wear if you dont tell me what we will do..''

Lucy wrapped herself around Ona and pressed some kisses on her neck ''a surprise is actually where you dont know what will happen and then you get striked with wonder or amazement''.

''wow'' Ona turned around ''thanks for the daily english lesson, i really didnt know what a surprise was thank you'' she said in a sarcastic tone and rolled her eyes.

''Here, wear this and this''  Lucy said affectionately as she handed a white top and faded red shorts to Ona.

'' A cooking class!? '' Ona smiled but then acted offended ''do i need cooking classes so bad that you disguised it as a surprise?''

''uh.. no, i just figured if you don't have me to cook for you, you know, when i'm-- Lucy got interupted

''Aww, Lucy, that's actually kinda cute, sad because now i think about it again, but cute that thought about it for choosing the activity''.

Lucy laughed ''yeah let's go with cute'' and quietly added ''i also just don't want other people stirring your pot''

Ona gasped and slapped the grinning english woman.

The lesson went great and they ate all the food they made with the family of the woman who had instructed them.

After a long and heavy meal they decided to walk back to the airbnb, it was just the first day of their vacation and they were quite tired from traveling, they thought it wise to go to sleep at a reasonable time, rather than the late nights they were used to making on trips.

..

''Lucy'' Ona moaned as Lucy was placing sloppy kisses all along her body ''we were gonna go to bed on time''

Lucy immediatly stopped ''oh, we are in the bed right now, but okay i'll stop'' she laid down next to her lover and sighed exaggeratedly ''i wanted to fuck you to sleep but i guess you just want to go to sleep right now''.

The freckled catalan cuddled up against Lucy and tried to go to sleep, but the words had woken up some specific part in her body.

Ona kissed Lucy's neck tenderly and guided the english womans hand between her legs.

Lucy smirked at her ''Not so tired yet after all?''

''Shut up'' Ona said breathlessly between kisses.

''Just one time quickly okay?'' Lucy asked carefully ''we need to be thinking about our recovery and we had discussed that getting enough sleep was one of our priorities this holiday''

''You started it!!'' Ona scoffed, plopping back next to Lucy ''you very much turned me off with those boring words and i am actually sleeping as we speak, so no worries about your recovery''

Ona felt a hand dip into her underwear, Lucy hit exactly the right spots with her talented fingers ''feels on to me, you sure you don't-

''Luce shut up, put your mouth on me, stop fucking talking'' Ona sputterd.

Lucy did as was told and pulled Ona's, or actually her briefs that Ona had put on to bed, off. She had pulled her hand away and was now only working with her mouth.

Gently licking and kissing she savourd Ona's taste, damn she was going to miss this, she flattened her tongue and stimulated Ona's clit, she brought her hand back up and entered Ona with one finger, bringing Ona to her climax with gentle and targeted stimulation.

For their standards this was foreplay, Ona always had at least two or three orgasms but it could easily be seven or eight.

"Was it nice?" Lucy asked as she took Ona in her arms and pulled the covers over them.

Ona kissed the arm that was around her, "yeah but" she didn't want to seem spoiled and thought about how she would tell her that this wasn't enough.

Lucy knew perfectly well what Ona meant and whispered in her ear, "I know this wasn't much, but I'll make it up to you tomorrow morning, if that's what you want as well."

''Ofcourse'' Ona muttered.

''I mean like, tomorrow morning early'' Lucy wispered ''would you be into that?''

''No i hate early mornings, you know that and also, we are on holiday, litteraly the only time we can sleep in...'' Ona stated in frustration.

''I mean.. can i wake you up with sex?'' Lucy asked carefully.

Ona turned around, wanting to see Lucy's face ''we never did that before...''

''Yeah i know, i just wanted to try and hadn't found the right time to ask you yet'' Lucy said.

''Hmm'' Ona thought about it ''sure, why not''.

''Wow, don't get too enthusiastic'' Lucy chuckled ''are you sure?''

''Just be gentle, but i dont even feel like i have to say that because i know you are good to me'' Ona smiled and hid her face in Lucy's neck.

''I will baby, always'' the dark haired said and kissed her girlfriend on the top of her head.

After being lost in thoughts for a while, they finally fell asleep.

..

It was 7am, very early, Lucy was awake and Ona was still asleep, she thought about her options while quietly going to the bathroom.

She knew she would be up before Ona, she always was, but she wondered about what the perfect time would be to start her thing, not wanting Ona to still be in a deep sleep and not wanting Ona to be awake immediatly, but honestly she wanted to go right now, she was always very excited to explore new things.

Easily enough Ona had fallen asleep naked yesterday, giving Lucy all the access she needed and after she had very carefully pulled the sheet away she saw that Ona was laying on her back with her legs a little apart, perfect, Lucy thought.

Very gently she wiped her fingertips over Ona's soft nipples.

She got amazed when she noticed that they became erect, taking pride in the fact that her touch even made Ona excited when she was sleeping.

Ona stirred in her sleep but Lucy kept her hands on Ona.

She slid her hands down over Ona's stomach until she reached her hips.

Lucy wondered how to go about this and really felt like she was in unknown territory, how would she get Ona's legs open without waking her?

She thought about how they did it when they were awake, kisses!, she thought.

Very very gently Lucy began to kiss her sleeping girlfriend's hips.

Kissing more inwards she noticed a slight effect, Ona stirred again in her sleep and her legs became more apart.

Lucy carefully felt her fingers between Ona's legs, when she was met with wetness she wondered if it was from yesterday or if she was turned on in her sleep by the kisses and the grazes. Lucy got turned on anyway and wanted to taste Ona again.

She lightly positioned herself so that she was lying on her stomach between her lover's legs.

Kissing the insides of her thighs she heard a soft sound, she looked up, still kissing, to see if Ona had woken up. She didn't thing so, her head was still on the pillow anyway.

When Lucy felt like she had worked up to it enough, she her mouth on Ona, tasting her on her tongue.

She heard the soft sound again and now felt two thighs pressing against her head. She couldn't look up to see if Ona had woken up and honestly she didn't really want to either.

After eating the spaniard out for a couple of minutes, Lucy thought she must still be awake, she wanted to use her fingers now also but didn't know if that would be pleasent for the sleeping woman.

She lightly teased Ona's entrance with her fingertip, before pushing one digit in slowly.

''mhmm'' she heared Ona moan quietly and felt the legs tighten around her again.

She continued with her tongue and finger until it seemed that Ona had come, as indicated by moans and the relaxation of her muscles after.

It was different as usual and Lucy carefully came out from under her girlfriend to get a good look at her.

It was a strange sight, Ona was dragging her arms up with a kind of smile on her face and now Lucy saw her moving her hips a little.

The Catalan's mouth was slightly open and another soft moan escaped, she was squirming on the bed and her breath became more heavy.

The squirming slowly died off and Ona stirred in her sleep again ''hmm luce'' she moaned as she rolled sideways.

The english defender was mesmerised and kissed along ona's naked back, which was now turned towards her.

Then she kissed her neck and near her ear she whispered, "Good morning, baby."

Ona groaned and wiggled herself backwards, pressing more into Lucy.

''did you sleep well'' Lucy said as she kissed Ona's neck more ''or are you still sleeping''

''hmm'' Ona sighed ''what time is it''.

''a little after 8''

Ona turned around under Lucy's arm, now facing her. ''did you that or did i have a very good sexdream?''

Lucy grinned ''i think, that you had a bit of both'' and kissed Ona so she could taste herself on her tongue.

After she pulled away Lucy asked ''so what happened ?''

''Shouldn't you tell me?'' Ona asked smiling

Lucy laughed ''i was a bit confused to be honest, but okay, so first i ate you out and made you come with my tongue and finger and i didn't know if you were awake or sleeping, so i got up to look at you and saw you kind off.. yeah uh.. continuing on your own, in your sleep''.

''Hmm'' Ona questioned ''so you only made me cum once?''

''yeah i didn't want to overdo it and also i didn't really knew if you came so i wanted to check-

Ona interupted her with a laugh.

''whats funny?''

''Lucy, i came like 5 times, i dont know what happend but in my dream i came a lot and you were doing a lot more then eating me out''

Lucy looked at her girlfriend confused 'how-

''I don't know either but you can defenitly do that more often, i feel very fucking good right now'' Ona said as she pushed herseld on top of Lucy.

...

''Ona?'' Lucy wispered, the young defender had fallen asleep on her but she wanted to get out of bed and explore Cuba some more, it was 10am already and she was dieing for some food.

''Nooo'' Ona whined ''we are going to stay in bed all day''.

''Ona..''

''You smell so nice'' Ona said as she pushed her face harder into Lucy's neck ''your warmth is so comfortable'' she cooed ''if you would stroke my back it would be even better''.

Lucy started stroking her back ''what's up Ona, why you acting weird?''

''Weird?'' Ona sniffled ''i just remembered these are our last days waking up together for a while ''im not acting weird, im grieving''.

''Ona, don't- Lucy stopped herself

''Actually, yeah you can say it, it is our reality, sadly, but we will manage remember..

Ona broke down ''yes i know but i will just miss you a lot''

Lucy was quiet and continued rubbing Ona's back.

...

It was late in the evening and they were on a quiet beach laying on a towel.

''Babe don't open your phone'' Ona said as she quickly grabbed Lucy's.

''What the fuck?'' Lucy laughed but saw the stress in Ona's eyes ''what did you leak our nudes or something?'' she tried to joke

''You said they would anounce your department july 1st right?'' Ona asked

''yeah why'' Lucy sat up straight now ''what, who?''

''Barca's own insta'' Ona said slowly ''and it was posted hours ago''

''What the fuck, show me''

...

''i think you should just record a video here then'' Ona stated

''Are you serious?'' Lucy looked at her

´´Yes just say thank you for everything, I don’t know, just to let something know´´ Ona looked empathetically to her girlfriend.

Together they thought about what Lucy could say, Lucy decided to do it in Spanish, resulting in a very proud Ona.

When she started recording she looked at Ona for reassurance, Ona smiled at her and Lucy felt like she could do anything, even record this video.

It was done and she uploaded it together with some pictures of her time at Barca.

Ona hugged her ´´good job baby´´.

Lucy wrapped her arms around the Spaniard, 'thanks, now lets enjoy this sunset´´.

They watched the sun go lower and lower, resulting in a bright orange glow that radiated over the water. Lucy gently squeezed Ona's arm ´´Babe, I need to take a picture of you, this lighting is perfect for you´´.

…

At their next stay they had a rather interestingly laid out room, next to the bed hung a gigantic mirror in a medieval painting frame, the rest of the room was quite boring and not really decorated.

Ona hadn´t batted an eye at it, but the mirror gave Lucy some ideas.

Ona was standing in the small kitchen making some salad for lunch. They had been walking around all morning and wanted to have lunch and an afternoon nap in their rented accommodation.

Lucy retreated to their bedroom and searched through the suitcase, grabbing the harness they had brought.

She put it on with a strap, then put her pants over it again and pushed the strap up behind the elastic of her boxers.

Lucy wore a linen outfit that was quite loose, it was not visible that she was wearing anything underneath, but if she were to hug Ona now, it would certainly be felt.

´´Lucy?’’ her thoughts got interrupted by a voice from the kitchen ‘’Lunch is ready’’.

Lucy sat down at the table with a mischievous smile, "oh, looks good babe."

"What are you grinning about?" Ona asked suspiciously, "Where were you anyways?"

‘’Just nothing, I was in the room chilling’’ Lucy looked at her plate ‘’excited for lunch’’.

‘’mkay’’ Ona laughed, she walked towards the table with her own plate and went over to give Lucy a kiss ‘’love you weirdo’’.

‘’Weirdo?!’’ Lucy said offended ‘’can’t a woman just be happy?’’

Ona tried to push Lucy with her chair a bit away from the table.

‘’what are you doing?’’ Lucy asked.

‘’I want to sit on your lap, let me give you kiss to make up for calling you a weirdo’’ Ona pouted.

Lucy scooted back with her chair and had a big grin on her face.

Ona looked questioning at her girlfriend ‘’you are being very weird, whats with all the grinning’’.

‘’just excited’’ Lucy said ‘’come on then’’ and grabbed Ona by her hips.

She sat on Lucy lap and they shared a kiss, Lucy deepend the kiss and pulled Ona closer to her.

Ona quickly pulled away and gasped ‘’what the-

The English woman grinned sheepishly at her ''told you i was excited''.

Ona leaned back to Lucy ‘’oh excited, excited, didn’t know you meant it like that’’

Lucy smiled ‘’maybe I was a bit vagu, do you maybe want a clear example?’’ she said seductively.

Ona grinned ‘’I feel it very clearly don’t worry’’

‘’hm, that’s a shame because I wanted to give yourself a nice demonstration that you could watch attentively’’

Ona frowned ‘’you lost me again, I don’t get-

She yelped as Lucy stood up carrying her to the bedroom. Lucy dropped her on the bed and hovered above her ‘’let me fuck you while you watch us in the mirror, give you something to look back at while missing me’’.

Ona gulped and turned her head to look at the huge mirror that hung besides them, she turned back to face Lucy and nodded.

‘’What’s that?’’ Lucy asked

‘’y- yes , lucy fuck me in the mirror’’ Ona said.

Lucy chuckled at Ona, who always had a pretty hard time speaking English when her brain was short-circuiting from being turned on, but she didn’t want to tease her about it. ‘’okay, tell me how you want to see it’’ she added in a softer voice ‘’ you're the director today bub’’.

..

After an intense afternoon the couple laid next to each other in bed, completely exhausted.

‘’that was ..’’ Ona searched for words but could find the right one to describe it ‘’al·lucinant’’

Lucy turned to lay on her side and put her hand on Ona, ‘’what does that mean?’’ she softly asked.

‘’like’’ Ona pulled up her hands next to her head and imitated the sound of and explosion while changing her hands from a fist to an stretched out hands on either sides of her head.

Lucy grinned ‘’mind blowing?’’

‘’Yeah that was the word’’ Ona smiled and kissed her lover and said with their lips brushing against each other ‘’that was mind blowing’’.

‘’hope you remember every bit of it’’ Lucy quietly said when Ona laid her head on her chest, she felt Ona nodding her head.

‘’You know’’ Ona said after a bit of quiet ‘’I don’t miss the sex the most when we are away from each other’’.

Lucy was tracing patterns on her back ‘’what do you miss most then?’’

‘’you’’ Ona said

Lucy laughed, making Ona’s head shake, Ona sat up and looked at her girlfriend seriously ‘’I am serious, I miss you the most’’

‘’Babe, I take you seriously sorry, but it just sounds funny’’ Lucy said with a smile on her face ‘’what do you mean by that babe?’’

‘’I mean that I miss you, I miss your presence near me, i- el món és tan pacific when im with you’’

‘’que?’’ Lucy said

‘’Cuando estoy contigo el mundo es tan pacífico’’ (the world feels peaceful when I’m with you).

‘’para mi tambien, te amo Ona’’ Lucy kissed her ‘’te quiero muchísimo, eres el amor de mi vida’’.

Ona chuckled at Lucy citing all the sentences she had thought her ‘’but im serious, Luce’’.

‘’Yes I know Ona’’ Lucy sighed ‘’I will miss you the most too, your presence’’.

--- the end (but not theirs)

[idontknowwhatimdoinglol]

Platonic Yandere Cullen family x sibling reader (headcanons) - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

(this takes place before the timeline of the books and movies)

OVERPROTECTIVE. like seriously the definition of the word. No matter what your age your family will not stand for anyone hurting you in any way. someone insults your outfit? expect one of your sisters to 'accidentally' bump into them and spill lunch on their clothes. someone is mean? next day all of their embarrassing thoughts spilt to the school.

also no friends. your family has jealousy issues loves you to much to let you spend time with anyone but them. They convince you that a friend well only hurt you and it's better to just stay with them.

and any type of date you might want to go on is instantly shot down. Edward can read thoughts so he will say no before you even get the words out. and if he's not in the room and you get to actually say something then that's shot down to even if you cry and fight them on it. they just want to keep you safe, why cant you accept that?

most likely carlisle and esme adopted you as a baby so that they could raise you to keep their secret from a young age. but no matter how old you get esme still well treat you like her baby, so prepare to never go to any party or dates ever. even if you beg carlise to talk to her about it, he probably won't since he loves seeing his wife happy.

once, you snuck out to a party that you heard someone at school talking about after your parents told you no. they sent emmett and jasper to drag you back home and you got in trouble with every member of your family. plus got grounded for a month

when your grounded your family keeps you home from school and spends every moment with you, since of course it was the lack of attention you received that caused you to break a rule.

it is hard for them since you are human still, your brothers cant mess around with you because your so fragile. once they tried playing catch with you but emmet threw the ball to hard and it broke your arm. he felt horrible and spent the next few weeks apologizing in different ways, he also got in a lot of trouble with carlise and esme.

like said in another yandere twilight oneshot of mine, they want you to live a human life but their selfish desires well overcome them. although, you would probably have to have gotten hurt in some way for them to think about it.

they well ask you first. and if you say yes then they'll be thrilled and plan a day to do it where they can all be there to comfort you.

if you say no then they would probably do it unexpectedly, one of them would distract you while carlise or edward does it.

if that was the case then the second you wake up and feed they well shower you in apologys. seriously for the next few months they well get you whatever you want to earn your forgiveness

after your turn they well teach you everything about being a vampire, if you end up getting a gift then they become more protective then ever (if that's even possible).

maybe one day they might let you date another vampire. but of course it would have to be someone of there choosing.

and when bella comes into the picture a few years later you can completely expect her to become a platonic yandere for you aswell.

- - - - - - - - - - - . o 0 O 0 o . - - - - - - - - - -

[destinationtrekk]

young wesker who gets drunk and giggly with reader. at first he had been so... cold, so expressionless and absolutely cluelessly bone-dry on how to go about doing anything but a daylight two-step move-his-arms-a-little to the dance music blaring from somewhere, but that's okay, reader can show him.

and he enjoys it... and he's laughing, and his face is flushed, and the scent of vodka is deep on his tongue, and he has severely miscalculated his drink, but that's okay, because reader keeps him safe and happy and distracted the entire time.

at the end, as he begins to sober up, they can't seem to get out of him where he's supposed to go to now (perhaps he is trying to revel in it, this one normalcy, just one event he took on to learn how to behave like everyone else and got taught more about himself and his own interests than he'd ever planned, a snapshot of a life he could have lived if only--) so they take him back to their house and snuggle him up in a blanket burrito on the couch, making him drink water, take an advil, a tylenol.

and as he gets back to himself and they smoke a cig, talking about life as he gets rather quiet and inward again (for he cannot share, he has nothing positive or appropriate to), they do something unexpected and yet wholly welcome, a gift to close out the night: they give him a quick, brief and fleeting shotgun kiss, hand warm on his cheek, before they send him off for a nap, telling him to stay the night so he'll be well and sober the next day to depart. free breakfast if he's still around by then, otherwise, they take no offense.

he has no way of telling them the truth of this fragile matter. he has no way of divulging his life, which would undoubtedly ruin whatever scrapbook memory he is currently creating, and certainly no way to hold onto this awfully pleasant being who he can, apparently, trust in his total ineptitude with heavy inebriance. and he can't keep seeing them again after this. and his view on how ruthless and manipulative human beings are when faced with vulnerability has been shaken to its' core, and he can't say it, and he wants to, but...

instead he asks them to stay a little while he falls asleep (just one final, little test, he muses to himself), and they oblige. he's laid on the couch, head in their lap, his (admittedly not quite so soft after all the gel has hardened) hair being carded through by soft, ever-eager, sleepy fingers. he will never get a moment like this again and he pushes himself to take it in, revel in every second that passes, commit to absolute memory (no matter what he had earlier in the day) every detail of this sightly, sweetly saint's face.

he ends up falling asleep feeling cherished. he will remember this day forever. years to come he will still have tabs on this person, and their life will still be unexpectedly, oddly lucky.

maybe one day he'll find it in him to thank them properly, face-to-face...

nshtn can i say i love you? because i love you and every time you come in my inbox i get so excited

first and foremost i don't think he even would dance at a party. he very much is the kind of guy to find a spot and linger there with a group he's only half listening to. once he meets you though his night gets much much more interesting

he's never really had chances to drink, except maybe whiskey or something expensive with Spencer during their talks about Umbrella and the future, so when you start handing him all kinds of seltzers and mixed drinks and straight shots of vodka, he is very overwhelmed

he can't show it though! so he dutifully takes most of what you hand him, a few drinks are two sweet for him, and he is very quickly wasted tbh. you're so nice though, and you drag him in the middle of everyone dancing and show him a few easy things and soon enough he's bouncing around with everyone else

every time he starts to think about what's going to happen tomorrow you're immediately there to distract him. it's almost like you can read his mind - you know just the right things to say and how to push people out of the way and he just thinks you're perfect under the flashing lights

finally when it's time to go home, he knows for a fact he can't show up at his place looking messed up as he is - what if Spencer or Birkin or some nameless Umbrella employee saw him and ratted him out? so he takes your offer to go to your house gracefully as he can this drunk

he knows now that you're a party expert, you immediately make him drink water and wash his face and take preemptive tylenol for the hangover. your fleeting kiss and warm hands on his sweaty skin are so sweet he can't bear to think about it longer than he has to. he knows he should leave before you wake up tomorrow and forget this wonderful night ever happened (he'll never forget you, not even on his deathbed)

you give him every courtesy and kindness you can offer and he decides to take just one more, one last sweet touch to take with him into the night. you smile sleepily and open your arms for him to fall into - the blanket covering his shoulders is a little too hot and you both smell like beer and liquor and sweat but your lap is so soft, it makes the ache in his back and shoulders from carrying the world lessen a bit, and your fingers in his hair send him into a beautiful and silent sleep

the next morning it physically pains him to untangle from your body on the couch. he stands and watches you for a moment, his heart clenching and pounding in his chest, until he forces himself out the door before you can feel his absence.

when he meets you again, what feels like a thousand years later, his heart pounds just the same. you recognize him, his twisted dark smirk and deep eyes, and when you smile and say his name he's suddenly twenty-something all over again and dizzy and drunk in your arms - he never wants to leave you again

[little-annie]

In This Lifetime

---

Vecna's dead and the gates are closed and life is finally back to normal.

Well except for one thing.

Eddie's entire view of Steve Harrington has been tipped on its axis, shattered, booted off a fucking cliff. Whatever you want to call it. Because, well, the guy's not an asshole. He's strong and passionate and so goddamn caring. He's probably the kindest, most giving person Eddie's ever met and although he'd like to say he doesn't know what to think of it, we'll he does. And he thinks he's in love.

Steve Harrington is like fucking sunshine and unfortunately for Eddie's fragile heart, that glow of light doesn't fade.

They become friends. Best Friends. Nearly inseparable. Attached at the hip throughout the years.

They move to Chicago together, rent a shitty two bedroom apartment that maybe as well be one because they still have nightmares and being plastered next to one another seems to calm those terrors.

They laugh and they sing and they dance around the kitchen while they smile and cook and inevitably burn whatever meal they had planned, opting to order pizza instead.

Eddie's in a band and Steve never misses a show.

Steve's in school, planning to become a Guidance Counselor and Eddie's by his side quizzing him with the reward of candy in hand.

It's perfect, living life together in domestic bliss. Even if all they are is only just friends.

But it's still perfect all the same and if it was up to Eddie, he'd spend the rest of his life in these years. Repeat them again and again, if only to fall asleep at Steve's side and wake up to honey-brown eyes every morning.

But he knows it can't always be like this and that's why this is the hardest thing he's ever done.

This is the hardest thing he's ever done, and he's done some difficult shit. Like surviving a near death experience in literal hell being the main contender. But sitting across from Steve Harrington as he turns a little golden ring between his fingers and goes over his proposal plan, yeah that's pretty fucking difficult.

And it shouldn't be, he should be excited, he should be cheering for his friend but there's a gnawing feeling in his gut that's telling him it should be him. It should be him that Steve drops to a knee for, it should be him that Steve professes his undying love to, it should be him that'll one day get to call this man his husband.

But it's not. It's not because even though he's known this ragtag group of monster hunters for years now he's never been able to come to terms with telling them that he's gay and he sure as shit hasn't come to terms with telling Steve Harrington that he loves him and loves him in a very much not 'just friends' kind of way.

So that's why when Steve asks him what he should say to this woman [Becky, who quite frankly could double as Eddie's twin] he spills the beans. In a very subtle way he supposes. He doesn't come out, doesn't outright tell Steve he loves him, but as he's telling Steve what to say to his future fiancé, he's letting his emotions come out like word vomit, only wishing Steve knew he was talking about him.

"I don't know man." Eddie huffs, shuffling uncomfortably in his chair, eyes avoiding Steve's as he contemplates his words.

But it's hardly more than a few seconds before they come tumbling out, Eddie sucking in shaky breath before he stares into the carpet and begins to speak, "Tell her she's like sunshine, beautiful and bold and the source of life. That she's like the blood in your veins, forever present in the most beautiful way and the only thing that keeps your heart beating. Tell her that even on the most difficult days that she's the one you want to see, the one you want to hold, the one that makes you take the breath you need and steady your heart when it's beating out of control."

It's a building thing, slowly growing out of control, he can feel his pulse thrumming in his veins and he's beginning to think he might just do something crazy. He pauses for a moment, gauging Steve's expression. He'd gone to get them beer and hasn't bothered to sit back down since Eddie began talking. There's an indecipherable expression on his face and he's stood still, in front of the couch, beers on the coffee table and he's silent, waiting for Eddie to continue.

And you know, if Eddie was a normal man he'd stay in his chair, talk to his friend from an acceptable distance away and not profess his love, but he's not. He's a showman and as his acting skills get the best of him, he's moving, shuffling across the carpet, taking Steve's hand in his own and kneeling before him. Because why not make this a harder interaction for himself. Christ, it nearly feels like the real thing as he looks into Steve's eyes and shuffles the littlest amount closer.

Eddie shudders a breath, taking a single second to appreciate this moment, even if it'll never truly be real and then he continues, "You get down on your goddamn knee Steve Harrington and you say, ' Sweetheart you're the only thing that keeps me alive in this crazy fucked up world. Having you in my arms and my heart keeps me steady and breathing. I've been through some shit, but I'd go through it all again to find you in the end. The blood, the sweat, the tears, nearly fucking dying to be by your side for the rest of my life. I want to grow old with you Darling, I want us to grey and weather together. To find ourselves fifty years from now watching our kids and our grandkids; all the life we've brought into this world. All the love our life together has brought into existence."

Eddie's crying now, because of course he is, he's confessing his love to someone he knows will never hold the same emotions for him, but through a watery laugh and a sniffle he carries on, tightening his grip on Steve's hands.

"I want you in this lifetime and the next, in any way that you'll have me. I can't bear the thought of a single day without you let alone an entire lifetime. I'll find you, I promise I will Sweetheart, but for this lifetime, I ask that you spend the remainder of it with me."

It's cheesy, he knows, but it seems to take effect because as he looks into the eyes of the man above him he sees the swell of tears gathering along thick dark lashes.

The room's suddenly silent, save for the pounding of Eddie's pulse in his ears and the hope that Steve didn't see through his actions or words. That all he saw was his rather expressive friend acting out as per usual.

But a tear finally escapes and rolls down Steve's tanned cheek and a rather aggressive sob breaks past his lips.

Eddie's to his feet in seconds pulling Steve to his chest, one arm firmly around his waist while another wraps around his shoulders and cradles a head of mousy hair as close as he can. Steve's sobbing, short shaky breaths and surely there's snot and tears staining Eddie's shirt, but it's not like he can say much, what with silent tears streaming down his own cheeks and dripping to Steve's hair.

Steve hiccups around a sob, voice shaky and muffled against Eddie's shoulder, "I can't do this."

God, that's not what Eddie wanted to do, he didn't mean to scare Steve away from his impending engagement. No matter how much he wished it was him. He loves Steve, but if he can't have him, he just wants him to be happy. He deserves happiness. He deserves love.

Even if it's not with him.

Eddie cards his fingers soothingly through Steve's hair as he speaks, "Yes you can. I know you can. Steve, you love her, you're just scared. You can do this."

Another sob heaves against Eddie's chest while Steve continues to shake in his arms, "I can't Eddie."

"Why not Sweetheart?"

Steve's knees give out as a pained nose escapes his throat, dropping to the floor, taking Eddie with him, he doesn't answer, only continues to cry and burrow into Eddie's chest upon settling into their new position on the ground.

He's verging on a panic attack, Eddie knows this, he's seen it many times before. The way Steve's fists clench in his shirt and his breaths are short and sudden, gasping for air that's not filling his lungs, he's flushed white and Eddie knows it's only a matter of time before he gets sick.

"Stevie, come on, you gotta settle down. I'm sorry if I said anything wrong, I didn't mean to if I did. We can talk about it later. But right now you just gotta breathe for me okay." Eddie grabs Steve's hand, tight fist and all and holds it against his chest, allowing Steve to feel his steady breaths, "Breathe in with me, come on Big Guy. Take a deep breath in." Eddie takes a large lungful and holds it for a second, waiting for Steve to do the same and even though it's shaky and raspy he manages.

They repeat this process ten times over, Steve's head and hand now resting against Eddie's chest, their backs to the couch, the rooms fallen silent enough that only muffled sniffles are audible aside from the hum of electricity and the joyous screams of children outside.

After a moment, Steve wiggles himself closer, if even possible and again states, "Eddie, I can't do this."

He's not quite sure how to answer, really. Should he push or should he allow Steve to call off the engagement before it even happens. Lord knows where his own wishes lie. "You wanna tell me why you think you can't do this?"

Steve's breathing picks up again, but before he can reach hysterics Eddie's fingers card through his hair and he soothes Steve back to baseline.

"You," Steve whispers after quite some time of Eddie waiting for a response. It's a quiet thing, Eddie wouldn't have even heard it if he wasn't intentionally listening for Steve to say something.

It's a pain in the chest to know he may be the reason for Steve not to propose, sure he wished it wouldn't happen, but not like this. For him to say something so stupid that makes Steve call the whole thing off, "I'm sorry if I-"

He doesn't have time to finish his sentence before Steve's speaking, "No, not like that, you have nothing to be sorry for Eds. Its just- fuck- I wish I could tell you."

Combing his fingers through Steve's hair, Eddie reassures, "Steve, you can tell me. Please. I want to help."

Steve shakes his head, wrapping an arm tight around Eddie's waist, tucking his head in close, "It's nothing you can help with Eddie."

Nosing against the side of Steve's head, hair tickling his nose, Eddie whispers, soft, gentle, scared to frighten Steve off, "Try me."

And then it's silent. Dead quiet and for quite a long while. He knows Steve will answer, he knows he's just gathering his words, sorting things out before he speaks. It's obviously something big, something important to have warranted such a reaction from such a strong man.

It's with a sudden movement that Steve's sitting upright, turning to face Eddie with the appearance of confidence and sheer fear on his face. He looks fucking terrified. Working his jaw, eyes darting all over Eddie's face before he finally settles on his eyes and speaks, "I love you, okay." The words are far from gentle, they're sharp, rushed, sudden, like if he didn't get them out they'd burn a hole in his throat, but before Eddie has a second to even process those few words, Steve's barreling on.

"And when you were down on your knee infront of me, I wanted nothing more than for that to be the real thing, for those words to actually be directed towards me because I love you so fucking much it hurts. And I get it, I do. I know you're straight and we can never be a thing or really even get married but Eds, fuck, I love you so much and I can't marry Becky knowing I feel that way about you. I was going to try because I knew this could ne-"

He knows what Steve was meaning to say, but Eddie had to cut him off before those words could be spoken into existence because they're wrong. It can happen. Holy fucking Christ, Steve's loves him. It can all happen.

"I love you too," he says with such haste, taking Steve's face into his hands as he speaks with so much passion it nearly hurts, "-so much."

Cheeks squished in Eddie's grasp, Steve's eyes begin to well with tears once again, but now, now a smile is fighting its way to his lips, only growing with utter disbelief as Eddie quietly says, "and I meant every word of it. Every fucking word Sweetheart."

Steve's eyes search Eddie's own for only half a second before their lips crash together. It's a feverish thing, years of pent up love and need crammed into a single embrace, but their lips move as if they've met a million times before. And maybe they have. Maybe through the thousands of years this little rock in space has been turning, they've never left one another's side. Maybe they do find each other in every lifetime. Maybe they fall in love against all odds. Maybe this lifetime is no different.

Many Years Later

Turns out, it's not different at all.

When the time comes, so does the real proposal. It's been planned for years and when word of legalisation reaches Eddie's ears he's running to Steve. Dashing through streets, shouldering past strangers and dropping with a painful thud to the hardwood of Steve's office floor. In those few short moments to follow, the life he wished to have so many years ago becomes a reality.

Steve's his fiancé.

Soon to be his husband.

In this lifetime and the next.

---

[nijisanji-brain-rot-fics]

xsoleil boys x reader || wedding day

a/n: im bored as hell now guys 😭 im just gonna like post a bunch of headcanon stuff LOL i might post like fanfics, but thats a maybe wwww ALSO ALSO starting to reaaally like the later waves of niji, so ill prob focus on mainly xsoleil, noctyx, iluna, etc. ill dribble in some luxiem from time to time, but like the other waves need attention too 🙌 i might do some of the fem waves, but im not sure how to write those LOL

HEX HAYWIRE

bro this man's voice makes my brain go haywire

anyways uh

would definitely just be like very happy and stoic during yalls wedding

he'd treat you like his pretty princess/prince

anyways uhhh he would be that kind of romantic person to like take your hand and kiss it once you go to the front

oh my lord, im struggling to find his green flags when all i listen to from his asmrs are the yandere ones

UHM...... i mean like reception would be cute, like he'd dance with you

like beauty and the beast vibes ykkk

help im genuinely struggling w anything thats positive about marrying him 💀

DOPPIO DROPSCYTHE

AWWW HED BE SMILING AND LIKE EXCITED

LIKE HE WOULD BE WAITING FOR YOU EXCITEDLY AT THE FRONT

i feel like doppio would just be generally so excited and happy hes finally marrying the person he loves so much

he would fix his hair JUST FOR THIS

this is also the only event he will never be late to

oh god he would be so nervous when the ceremony actually starts

like hes worried he'll mess up his parts or someone will object

BUT it probably wont happen and itll be a great wedding!!

reception!doppio would be fucking lit

HE WOULD BE THE LIFE OF THE PARTY

he'd already be making dad jokes even if he isnt a dad yet

i swear, he would be kissing your forehead or cheek every few minutes

oh my goodness, drunk doppio would be so sweet

like i can just imagine him getting tipsy while like the maid of honor and the groomsman doing their little speech things and him getting really emotional

VER VERMILLION

honestly, i think he would cry at yalls wedding

like, he just screams 'emotionally fragile man on occasion'

the second he sees you in your wedding dress/suit/wtv, he'll start tearing up knowing that yall r gonna be married

and he loves you ya know

he'd hide the fact he was tearing up when you get to the front www

five bucks, doppio would be stifling his laughter when he sees ver crying

reception would be wholesome

ver would be whispering things to you while you guys dance

and not just random things

like i mean in korean

yeah his cute ass voice when he talks in korean

the voice where you want to keel over and throw up because it's really goddamn adorable and kind of attractive because people who speak more than one language is always somewhat attractive

tipsy ver is something to live for

it doesn't always happen but when it does its either hilarious as fuck or really cute and wholesome

like when he gets drunk, there's a 50% chance he starts to emote on the dance floor with an equally drunk doppio

or he could be holding your hand the whole time and staying by your side

a/n: WWWW im sorry i half assed hex's hcs LMAO i just genuinely cant see something that isnt overly explicit or kinky that wouldnt happen on ur wedding so thats why his is like the shortest lmao 💀 errhmm yeah, also ver is my #1 oshi thats why he has like the uh longest one LMAO UHHM yeah whatever lols have a good timezone

[0nlythrowharrybeaux]

The Divine Feminine II - Welcome to Hell (Sneak Peek)

Guuuuuys I was supposed to post this for Halloween but could not finish it since I had a busy weekend and then a busy workday today! However, here is a sneak peek! Hopefully I can finish writing it in the next few days and post it all!

Read: The Divine Feminine** - Amidst his sadness after his wife leaves the Underworld, Hades (Harry) encounters a human woman who brings him to his knees.

No warnings for the sneak peek:)

WC: 1.1k

“You’re everything.” He mumbled against her ear and she tangled their fingers together, “Wish you could be with me forever.” He sighed.

This made her smile. Y/N had never really felt like she had a place in the world. She had always struggled to fit in, to find a place in it where she felt like belonged completely, maybe she wasn’t meant for this earth? But she had no idea what Harry’s world was like. She was curious, but she also realized that in order to be down there she’d have to die and she didn’t want to die. Not yet at least. There were so many things that she still wanted to do and experience…like tornado chase, travel to Europe, or see her favorite band live at least once. As much as she had grown to love him, he was Hades. He transcended time, he was the god of the underworld. He was the ruler of the afterlife, the highest judge in the universe, at the end of their life every single being answered to him for the way they’d spent their time. He was justice. He was vengeance. He was a god. It baffled her that a being as simple and fragile as her could even catch his eye.

“You shouldn’t think so highly of me, love.” He spoke quietly and she smiled.

“And why not?” She inquired.

“You’ll make me too arrogant.” 

“As if you needed any help with that.” She quipped with a grin and he swatted the side of her thigh quickly and she giggled. "You should stop hearing my thoughts." she reminded him.

“I want to show you my world. Everything that I can offer you whenever you’re ready to join me.” He said, completely ignoring her little reminder because of course he was going to continue reading her thoughts.

“What if I’m old and gray by then?” She questioned and he squeezed her tighter.

“I can become old and gray too or restore you to whatever age you desire to be.” He said and she hummed.

“That’s fascinating.”

“It is.” He agreed, “You know, there’s…a spell that can grant you temporary immortality. I could learn more about it and perform it on you, that way you can see everything there is to see.”

“Hmmm… a vacation to hell? Sounds nice.” She said teasingly and he chuckled and kissed her bare shoulder.

“S’paradise too, you know?” He said.

“I thought that was Olympus.”

“No, that’s where most of the other deities live.” He explained and she hummed in understanding.

“Is it dangerous? The spell?” She asked.

“I don’t know, I’ll have to consult Hecate, she’s one of the goddesses that also dwells in the underworld. That’s her area. We can weigh out the pros and cons together.”

“Alright, it’s worth looking into I think.” She decided, “And what about your wife? The first day of Autumn is just two days away.” She pointed out and he hummed.

“I’ll talk to her. Tell her about you. I think she’ll be glad that I’ve found someone other than her to keep me happy.” 

***********

Every time Persephone made her descent back to the realm of the Underworld Hades would throw a bash for her. It was an absolute lavish feast and everyone was a huge part of it, Admittedly, Hades had been very distracted with his favorite, little human so he only had two days to plan this feast whereas before he encountered Y/N, he’d begin planning at least a month in advance.  As soon as Hades arrived back in his realm one of his fellow deities conjured themselves.

“Are we having the feast or not?” Thanatos asked.

“Yes. I know I’ve been gone a lot-”

“Don’t worry, we’ve got it. The dead remain dead, all is in order.” He assured his friend and Hades smiled.

“Thank you.”

“You deserve this. You never have your fun.” He said and Hades chuckled.

“Let’s ummm, make this feast more intimate, yeah?”

“Alright.”

“And ummm, let’s search through Elysium and the Meadows for some musicians. Just the better ones.” Hades said and Thanatos nodded.

“Nyx and Erebos did start setting up the great hall in their home a few days ago.”

“And your brother?”

“Wandering about the world. After you were gone more than a week he also took a leave. We shouldn’t count on him for any of this.” Thanatos said of Hypnos.

“Alright, fair enough.” Hades chuckled.

“I must tell you, Persephone is a bit…unsettled.” Thanatos warned. 

“Why?”

“Hecate overheard Eros bragging about “striking the ruler of the underworld with his arrow to fall in love with a human”. Boastful little prick…” he huffed and Hades sighed, “Ever eager to gossip, Hecate mentioned this to Persephone, or so I’ve been told by Hermes.” Thanatos explained.

“Unbelievable.”

“I told them it was just Eros being a prick. We all know how bitter he still is over Persephone’s rejection all those millennia ago…” 

“Can I be honest?” Hades said and Thanatos nodded.

“Of course.”

“He’s not just being a boastful prick…I think he succeeded.” Thanatos was shocked to hear this. 

Anyone who knew the pair knew that the one with an unwavering and undying devotion in this marriage was Hades. He never even thought to gaze upon another being. And anyone who knew Persephone knew that despite her mostly pleasant and benevolent manner, she had inherited the jealously and wrath of her father, Zeus. She could be cold and senseless in her wrath. Hades knew this and it worried him for Y/N.

“If what you say is true then your human is in danger.” Thanatos said solemnly.

**********

Hades had been unsettled after his conversation with Thanatos. He had mentioned to Y/N that he would be rather busy until Persephone’s return and she fully understood this, but he needed someone to protect her from any possible attacks that his wife might hurl at the unsuspecting and fragile human who had his heart. 

Typically he would call on his own wife or Hecate when something or something required the utmost protection, but these two were the ones who’d been consorting all summer long and likely had turned against him to some extent. Persephone was reasonable, maybe he could convince her to not harm Y/N. But what worried him was that she was all alone on earth without anyone there to guard her. Hades wasn’t all that excellent in his practice of spells, but he did find himself at his altar, performing a spell for Soteria - the spirit of deliverance and protection - for Y/N. Being Hades, the spirit realm was always more susceptible to his wishes. And it gave him peace to know that his offering was accepted. 

[aristocratic-otter]

Hey y’all. It’s been a rough month, so thank you to all of you who keep tagging me in spite of my silence. And for those of you waiting for new chapters to one of my WIPs, please forgive me. The good news is, I have a week off of work, and I’ll be able to put out new chapters of at least two of my WIPs, as well as the first post from one of those below that you haven’t seen. So stay tuned!

Thank you to : @thewholelemon, @youarenevertooold, @nausikaaa, @wellbelesbian, @cutestkilla, @monbons, @artsyunderstudy, @ileadacharmedlife, @hushed-chorus, @prettygoododds, @whatevertheweather, @angelsfalling16, @noblecorgi, @ic3-que3n, @bookish-bogwitch, @thewholelemon, @alexalexinii, @you-remind-me-of-the-babe,and @blackberrysummerblog for the tags over the last several weeks. 

On to the snippets!

From Saving Simon Snow: (slightly more than six sentences)

I don’t know what I expect when I look at him. Recriminations about my family? I’d deserve them. My father and aunt have been vicious and abusive towards my now-husband. I’ll never be done making that up to him. Or maybe he wants to actually talk about the events of the day? Yesterday, I mean, since the clock has clearly ticked over into a new day.

Whatever I expected, it wasn’t Simon’s blue eyes intensely boring into mine as he says, “Can I kiss you?”

From the Heart in the Well

“You–” I start, and my voice is a croak. I swallow, despite my horror at the liquid still laying on my tongue. I try again. “How could you?”

Simon looks apologetic, but his chin is jutting up nonetheless. “Baz, you needed it—” he begins. 

“You’ve made me into a monster!” I cry. 

From Snow Fox–nothing new this week. I'm researching my next chapter at the moment.

From TikTok Dancer: 

Normally, by now I’d be giving coy glances to my chosen partner of the night. I like to have made my choice at least an hour before we quit for the day, so I can make my interest known. It’s a bit of a dance in itself, this small courtship. 

Tonight, unless I find the courage to approach Baz again—why do I even remember his name? Most of the time I forget their names minutes after they say them—I’ll be going to bed without any release. Because nobody in the crowd has drawn my eyes today, despite several pretty people making eyes at me. 

I’ve only got eyes for Baz.

I don’t understand this.

From Stars, Flowers, and Children,

One of the tools we rescued from the ship before it sank was a hand axe, and it’s honestly been worth it’s weight in gold. Half the building I’ve done in the last few years would have been impossible without it. I don’t need Davy’s voice in my head growling, “you break those tools, boy, I’ll break you.” I’m constantly aware of the fragility of the life we’ve built here. If I break an axe…no more building out of wood. If the island suffers a dry year, no fruit on our plates. If one of us gets sick…no doctors

From Cupid’s Shield:

My aunt Fiona loves recounting the time he showed up at Watford’s Valentine ball when she was a fourth year. She wasn’t old enough to attend, but she’d snuck into a secret passage that passed the ballroom to spy on her friends, who were fifteen because their birthday (they were twins apparently) was just before the deadline to attend. Reading between the lines, I think Fi was sweet on one of the pair and wanted to make sure he wasn’t making time with some other girl at the ball. 

According to my Aunt, Cupid just materialized in midair beneath the great chandelier, and, with a wicked grin, began shooting incorporeal arrows at every mage in sight. Fiona took great pleasure in recounting just who was compelled into snogging their sworn enemies or the girlfriends/ boyfriends of their best friends. Apparently the event was a source of endless drama over the next several months, and my aunt lives for that shit. 

Of course, my aunts’ maybe-boyfriend escaped unscathed, or I think she wouldn’t have found the whole thing so amusing.

From my COBB project:

“Director,” I say, “It’s good to see you.”

“And it’s wonderful to see you, my boy. In fact, your return just at this time could not have been more fortuitous.”

I know all too well what that means. My heart sinks into my shoes. I just got back…I haven’t even unpacked yet…

“Sir?” I question, directing every fibre of my being towards hoping the director is not about to say what I think he’s about to say. Of course, I’m not that lucky.

“We have a situation, Simon,” he says, letting his face fall into graver lines. 

Tagging: @chen-chen-chen-again-chen, @bazzybelle, @dragoneggos, @erzbethluna, @palimpsessed, @frjsti, @fatalfangirl, @letraspal, @martsonmars, @melodysmash, @moments-au-crayon22, @moodandmist, @mostlymaudlin, @onepintobean, @raenestee, @tea-brigade, @thehoneyedhufflepuff, @upuntil6am, @whogaveyoupermission, @messofthejess, @carryonsimoncarryonbaz, @krisrix, @shemakesmeforget, @larkral, @confused-bi-queer, @rimeswithpurple, and @mooncello, @theearlgreymage, @j-nipper-95, @facewithoutheart, @best--dress, @nightimedreamersghost

[armpirate]

Anti-romantic || JJk | Ch. 38

Pairings: Boxer!Jungkook x fem!reader || Enemies to lovers, neighbors

Genre: smut, angst, fluff, curse, illegal boxing, violence

Warnings: fuckboy!Jungkook x reader, smut, dirty talk, curse, mention of tarot and fate

Summary: Jungkook had always been carefree when it came to love. He always believed he was worth sharing himself with everyone, and thought it was selfish of him to ever think of keeping himself exclusive to just one person.

And maybe that was exactly what got him into the big problem he was in.

A curse that kept him away from love didn't seem an issue for him. The fact that his ex-girlfriend thought he'd be affected by the idea of the girls he slept with running away from him after sex was ridiculous. She actually did him a favor, and took a burden away from him.

At least that was what he thought at first.

He had never found himself thinking of the possibility of repeating with neither of his hook ups, because they disappeared before he was able to even think about it. But when he makes the mistake of sleeping with the sexy neighbor that lives in front of him, he finds himself hoping to get the chance for a second round every time their paths cross.

Y/n hated him the second he set foot inside the building by the way he started making her life a miserable mess for no reason. Sleeping with him was a big mistake she wasn't thinking of repeating. At least not until he came up with the excuse that she rejected him for a curse. Not only she thought he was annoying, but she was also convinced he was crazy. 

There was no way she could take him seriously.

Aprox. time of reading: 17 minutes

Previous || Next

MASTERLIST

Y/n sat at her desk, eyes glazed over as the bright glow of her laptop screen illuminated the light newsroom. The cursor blinked at her mockingly on a blank page titled: "The Best Parks for Weekend Picnics".

Parks for picnics, she thought with a sigh, dragging a hand down her face. How am I supposed to write about picnics when my entire life is falling apart?

She hadn't responded to Jungkook's texts all day. She couldn't. Every time she heard her phone vibrate, her chest tightened, and her heart started racing. She couldn't face him -not yet. Not after what she had found in his office. The days that followed consisted of her checking through her peephole whether he was near her door just so she'd be able to escape without having to face him.

A noise from across the room startled her, making her jump slightly. She glanced up, only to see Jackie standing at the edge of the cubicle, arms crossed, watching her with a look that screamed "I'm worried".

—You okay? —Jackie asked, stepping closer.

—Yeah —Y/n swallowed hard, forcing a smile—. Just... trying to focus.

—Y/n, you've been sitting in front of that laptop for hours —Jackie raised an eyebrow, unimpressed—, and you haven't written a single word.

Y/n opened her mouth to protest but realized her friend was right. She hadn't written anything. She couldn't. Her thoughts were stuck in a whirlwind of Jungkook, her brother, and the revelation that had shattered the fragile trust they'd built. How could she even begin to concentrate?

—I'm fine, seriously —she muttered, turning back to her screen—. Just a lot on my mind.

Jackie didn't budge. Instead, she walked over and perched herself on the edge of Y/n's desk, eyeing her closely.

—Is this about Jungkook?

Y/n stiffened at the mention of Jungkook, biting her lip to keep from reacting. Of course, Jackie had figured it out. She was sharp, and Y/n had been anything but subtle. She'd been a mess ever since that day at the gym.

—Look —Jackie continued, her tone softer now—, whatever's going on, it's eating you alive. You need to deal with it, because this —she gestured at the screen— isn't helping. Avoiding the guy isn't going to solve anything.

—I'm not avoiding him —Y/n lied quickly.

—Sure —Jackie gave her a knowing look—. And I'm the Queen of England.

Ever since their argument, Jungkook had been waiting in front of the building, with a clear distressed look on his face while he hopefully checked on every person who walked out the door. Jackie had seen him a few times that week, while also knowing that Y/n was staying in the office longer than usual. Or, at least, longer than she stayed ever since she started being serious about Jungkook.

It didn't take her older coworker too much thought to understand what was going on between them.

—I just... —Y/n let out a frustrated sigh, slumping back in her chair— I don't know what to do. It's complicated.

—Complicated how?

She trusted a person she shouldn't have trusted. She should've listened to her inner self when she kept telling herself Jungkook was bad news. Yet she decided to give him a chance, to try and see through that first impression she got of him, because he was offering her a safe space that she craved and needed.

—We are giving each other some space —she finally said.

—Does your boyfriend know about its meaning or am I missing something?

She knew about his visits the first day Alma came up joking about him showing up, but they received no response other than how she was spending the night there until late. That first night she expected Jungkook to be sitting by her door, or waiting in his place for her to come, but he didn't show up, he didn't insist.

And she was glad he didn't put her in such a tough position.

—Why don't we go out for a drink? —she suggested, trying to set her free from the office— I bet alcohol will work great to get you to roll your tongue.

—Jacks...

—I was kidding. But it'll help you to disconnect —she assured her—. Whatever happened between you two... Going from home to the office and vice versa won't give you the break you need. I promise you —she arched her eyebrows, trying to insist—. You don't even have to drink, you can get a milkshake if you like.

That comment stole a smirk from Y/n, while also rolling her eyes. She agreed with her friend, it'd definitely work to let her mind rest from everything that was just building up noise.

As Jackie left, Y/n turned back to her laptop, the cursor still blinking at her like a ticking time bomb. She rubbed her temples and sighed, her thoughts drifting back to Jungkook. She could still feel the weight of his arms around her from that day, the way he had kissed her before everything had spiraled out of control.

"Y/n, we need to talk. Please."

She couldn't focus, not here, not anywhere. And no matter how hard she tried to push it all aside, the truth gnawed at her insides.

Her phone buzzed again right when she was about to put it inside her bag. She looked once more, sure and hopeful it was Jungkook, only to come across an unknown number.

"If you want answers, come to 12th and Michigan. The bar's called 'The Blue Rose.'. I'll be there at eight"

She frowned, sitting up straighter. No name, no explanation, just an address and a promise of answers. Everything about it screamed "danger," but she was too deep in this mess to ignore it. If there was a chance it could lead her to more information about her brother... Well, she couldn't let it pass. And she was far too upset with Jungkook to even think of telling him.

Fine, she thought.

—Jacks, we'll have to leave that drink for another day —she let her friend know, when she walked behind her to head to one of the offices at the back.

—Better plans?

—Not better, but something came up —he let her know—. I'll make up to you.

Minutes passed lower once she was looking forward to leaving the office, almost causing her to lose her patience until the time of the meeting finally got closer enough.

The bar was dimly lit, with the scent of stale beer and the low hum of conversation filling the air. Y/n stepped inside cautiously, scanning the room for anything that seemed out of place, until her eyes landed on a young woman sitting alone at a corner table. The woman looked up at her and gave a small, hesitant wave.

—You sent the text? —Y/n frowned, walking over to her.

The woman nodded, motioning for her to sit down. Up close, Y/n could see that her eyes were red, as if she'd been crying recently, but her posture remained composed.

—You already know my name —she let her know—, but I'll say it anyway. I'm Elia. I was Noah's girlfriend.

Y/n's breathing was blocked by the knot in her throat as she looked at the woman in front of her, looking around for any sign that let her know that was all an act.

—Will you sit? Or will you keep looking around for ghosts?

Y/n's lips were pressed tight against each other as she sat in front of Elia, before she gestured towards the waiter to ask for the same drink she was having.

—Noah talked a lot about you —she finally said—. He talked a lot about your family, but especially about you.

Her heart skipped a bit just about the idea of her brother speaking highly of her, making her smile shyly when she finally got her beer.

—Is your mother still with Mitchell?

—Yeah —she chuckled—. They're so perfect for each other it's scary.

—I'm glad to hear Hannah didn't get in between that —after Y/n dedicated her a confused look, Elia felt forced to explain herself—. Noah told me she fought several times with Mitchell because of how supportive he was about his boxing.

—She's convinced Noah would've given up on it if everyone had told him to stop —she smirked—. No one knew he was doing illegal fights until that night, yet Hannah always managed to blame Mitchell for it.

—Your brother didn't only die because of how brutal the fight was —she murmured.

—I know he had heart issues —Y/n interrupted her before Elia could continue.

—I just want you to know he didn't want to keep it from you. He just... Your mother was happy again, you were almost finishing your degree, and he didn't want anyone to know he was stuck in that dark place still. When he learnt one of the fights caused him... well, he thought of retiring. But as much as he wanted to, he needed to pay for the treatment, and he could only do it if he kept boxing.

Y/n's eyes started watering as she started hearing more of the story, feeling forced to look away to hide the fact of how much that story impacted her. It'd have been so different if she had been able to read through her brother's actions and attitudes, if she hadn't been so centered in herself... she probably would've noticed something was wrong. And... maybe... Noah would still be alive, because she for sure wouldn't have let him get on that ring.

—Why are you telling me this now?

—I know what you've been doing these past few months —Elia admitted, glancing around before leaning closer—. And, let's say I've been helping you. I was the source of the source of your source, I dropped the leads for you to follow, I was the one who sent the bag...

—Why didn't you just come to come directly?

—I had to stay in the background. I really thought of meeting you and introducing myself —Elia confessed, her gaze dropping to the table—. But I didn't know how. After he died, everything got so messy. And... I didn't know who to trust. Not even you, at first. I wanted to see what you'd do with the information.

—You thought I was going to go to the police and relate you to all that shit?

—More like sending me to Alessandro and Elijah.

Y/n stared at her, processing the weight of Elia's words. Her brother had kept this part of his life hidden from everyone, and now this woman -that stranger- was sitting in front of her, having helped her navigate an investigation she barely had control over.

—I still don't understand —Y/n said slowly—. Why now?

—It just felt right to let you know —she shrugged— And I'm sure Noah would've wanted me to meet you sooner rather than later.

The silence between them was tense, heavy with unsaid things. Y/n leaned back, trying to wrap her head around it all.

—How did you know about me, first of all? —Y/n questioned.

—Jason told me you wouldn't give up on knowing about your brother's death, so I decided to step in before things got serious for you.

—How nice of Jason to air out my business —she mumbled between her teeth—. Well, good news for you, you don't need to keep giving me breadcrumbs on what happened to my brother, because I already know. Jungkook was the one behind the fight, so that's all I needed to know.

Y/n blinked, confused at Elia's attitude when she just chuckled at her answer, taking a sip of her beer. Her brother's girlfriend didn't blame her for acting that way, or assuming things she didn't quite know. To be fair, it was surprising how much of Noah she could see right in front of her eyes while looking at her.

—I kept guiding you to Jungkook because Jungkook had the information, not because I wanted you to catch him lying. You think it's that simple? —she tilted her head— Jungkook just agreed on Noah going there, but everyone knew he had no say in what happened. First of all, his gym was in such a poor state that he'd have needed to send anyone they asked just to get the money they offered. Second of all, once Rossi had his eye on someone, he wouldn't stop until getting them. He wanted Jungkook, but he was injured, and he barely stepped in the gym during that time, so the next target was Noah. Ever heard of the line of 21?

Y/n had heard of that before, but she didn't quite know what it was about, because her focus was on so many things at the same time, that she forgot about those small details.

Slowly, she shook her head.

—Noah, Jungkook and another boxer were part of it, although Noah didn't tell me much about him. Bets went crazy whenever their names were on those polls. The title is simple, they all were twenty one when they all trained in the same gym. Noah was a beast, bloodthirsty even. And Jungkook was the closest to a death machine. So what could you get when you put them together? He almost killed Noah that night, but he stopped, despite Noah getting up time and time again. Jungkook stepped back for a long while after that, he was only limited to training. I know he switched gyms... And I wish Noah had done the same —she sighed—. Your brother looked for somewhere to train when the gym he trained in went bankrupt after Jungkook left and after the other boxer suffered a coma. Noah needed the money, he even fought in fights that weren't arranged, so when Elijah reached out for him for that fight... He didn't even ask Jungkook before accepting —Elia's lips twisted when remembering the news.

Y/n's thumbs kept fidgeting over the table, making some sense out of all the times she wondered why Jungkook was so adamant on not letting his trainees fight for him. Now she understood why.

—The only thing I can blame Jungkook for is how he didn't show up to check on how he was. He didn't show his face, not even once —Elia's voice cracked—. But the real people, the ones putting needy people in danger, are still out there living life as if they weren't behind all of these crimes.

Y/n exhaled slowly, her mind swirling with everything Elia had just revealed. The answers felt closer now, but so did the danger. And now, she had to figure out how Jungkook fit into all of this -and what she was going to do next.

The bar was dimly lit, with neon lights flickering over the weathered wood, and the low hum of chatter surrounded the place. Jungkook sat slumped at the bar, one hand loosely holding a whiskey glass, his third one in less than an hour. Across from him, Jimin watched with mild concern, his beer untouched as Jungkook swirled his drink and sighed.

—She hates me —Jungkook muttered, rubbing a hand over his face—. She found the file, the one on her brother. The minute she saw it... I could see the way she looked at me change. I didn't even have time to think of an explanation before she found it.

—What explanation? —Jimin frowned, leaning back in his seat— You should've told her as soon as you found out, but I bet you acted like nothing happened —with Jungkook's click of tongue, he knew he was right—. Did you try to explain yourself after she found out?

—No —Jungkook answered, his voice bitter—. I didn't get the chance. She just stormed out, and now... now she's avoiding me at every damn turn. I've been so used to not having to give any explanations, that I fucked it up at the first need of giving one —he mumbled, taking the last sip before emptying his glass.

—Maybe she just needs time —Jimin gave him a sympathetic look—. It's like a bomb being dropped on her, Jungkook. She's gonna need time to process that, especially with how much this affects her.

—I don't know —Jungkook shook his head, laughing dryly—. It's more than that. This thing... I bet she thinks I just kept it in the dark because I wanted to keep fucking her, but it's more than that. I kept it in the dark because I was so fucking scared of losing her, that I didn't realize my silence would only push her further.

—It's nice to see you're human —Jimin tried to cheer him up—. Trust me, she needs time.

—You have no idea how stubborn she is —Jungkook's lips twisted, before he turned to a waiter to ask for another round—. Once something gets in her head...

—Sounds like someone I know —Jimin took a sip of his beer, raising an eyebrow.

Jungkook shot him a glare, but Jimin just chuckled. The alcohol was starting to hit Jungkook hard now, loosening his tongue in ways it never would have otherwise. His voice was more slurred than before, his thoughts spilling out.

—She was so perfect for me. Too perfect to be true. And I messed it all up —Jungkook muttered, frustration boiling to the surface—. I can't stand knowing it was all my fault. I can't blame anyone else —he ran a hand through his head, moving his bangs back—. Her looks keep hunting me, every time I think of her, and I hate myself for putting her through that. It was hard enough when I knew that guy was critical, but after learning I guided him to his death. Fuck, I killed her brother. How is she going to ever forgive that?

—Jungkook, you were just getting started, you weren't in a good condition after retiring. And you know you had no say in that boy's decision once Elijah contacted him.

—I could've tried to stop him if I had cared.

—No, you wouldn't have gotten anything —Jimin insisted—. We all know you're in those fights, Y/n's brother is no exception. If he needed the money, nothing you could've said or done would've stopped him. If you hadn't agreed, he would've gone to a different gym and fought in their name.

During those few minutes of silence, Jungkook's leg shook constantly under the table while he tried to think of everything that happened during that time, only coming up with blurry memories that made him wonder... How many people did he send to those fights without looking into those cases, before he chose to fight himself?

—Those big names are the only ones to blame, and should be the only ones to pay —Jimin muttered—. They're the only ones who should suffer being hunted by their consciences, but I bet they're more than calm rolling over their fresh cash.

Jimin was right. Gym owners were to blame, he still had no excuse by the way he barely glanced at Noah's history, but Alessandro Rossi took advantage of those people's needs to get more and more money. Not only Noah would've probably fought either way, but Jungkook would've probably found his establishment ripped to shreds by the next morning.

That was how they worked.

If there was a way he could redeem himself, it was definitely exposing all of them.

—Hey, hey —Jimin tried to stop him after Jungkook downed his drink in one go.

The glass slammed down on the table, the loud thunk punctuating his next words:

—I'm gonna fix it all. Somehow. This shit will keep going if we keep going after the wrong people. You're right, those big names are the ones that need to pay —Jimin tilted his head, confused at how that was linking to his statement on fixing the issue—. I'll get them at their own game.

—What are you thinking? —Jimin narrowed his eyes.

Jungkook's lips curled into a half-smile, his mind racing with an idea that was both dangerous and reckless, but something that might just work.

—Rossi —he said slowly, letting his name hang in the air for a few seconds—. I was invited to the Union Stockyards.

Jimin remembered that and how surprised he was at Jungkook declined the chance of finally setting himself in a better position, although it made sense for him when his friend mentioned Y/n, and how he didn't want her to worry.

The best fighters went there. The first time Jungkook was invited it was before he retired, keeping it low, and sticking himself to small fights, until he was once again offered with that chance. Not only the money was important, but also the possibility of catching a talent scout's eye was the biggest it'd ever be for him.

But Jimin knew Jungkook wasn't considering participating because of the money or the promise of a better future. And, deep inside, Jungkook knew he wasn't doing it to expose Rossi. He was doing it for Y/n, because he wanted to give her what she wanted and he wanted to prove he wasn't on the wrong side of the story anymore.

—You're not thinking of...

—I am —he cut in, voice resolute—. I'm gonna participate. Only inside I'll be able to look close enough. Top level fighters get to coddle up with those big names you said. And after I get that evidence, I'll snoop to the police and get their asses.

Jimin looked at him like he was crazy, and maybe he was.

—Look, I know you're a good boxer, but those fighters are brutal —he tried to make him think twice—. Shit, this could backfire in so many ways...

—I've been in worse fights —he shrugged, the alcohol making him more confident than he should be.

—But is it really worth it? —Jimin frowned, leaning forward— Doing all of this, putting yourself on the line... just for her and an argument that could be done by next week?

Yes.

—It's not just about her.

He clearly lied. If it hadn't been about her, he most definitely wouldn't have been aware of all his mistakes.

Jungkook's smile faded, and for a moment, he was quiet. He glanced down at his empty glass before speaking again, his voice softer, more raw.

—It's about finding justice. It's about Noah, it's about me... It's about rich people using poverty to come up with new entertainment for them.

For the first time, Jimin smiled at hearing such a crazy idea. His smirk was wide and deep, ready to get on board with whatever Jungkook was planning to do.

—Sounds like you'll have some training to do until the weekend.

Jungkook nodded, though he wasn't entirely sure if he was ready for what was coming. But one thing was certain: if this fight could give Y/n the breakthrough she needed, he'd step into that ring without hesitation.

Taglist: @jk97bam @ttanniett

[that-punk-adam]

Sometimes I be reminded that the people in power have convinced members of the 99% that trans people are an issue by just existing. You can’t exist in the public OR the private for any reason. You can’t work a job and mind your business as a trans person bc ‘it’s an issue’, you can’t go out in public with friends to do whatever bc it’s ‘an issue’.

Have people forgotten that we are all literally the same? We work, we have families, we cry and love, we party and celebrate. It’s a cultural difference that those convinced members don’t truly understand. Just as with the cultural differences between white people and black people in America, there is a cultural difference between cis and trans people, and gay and straight people. The culture differs regionally too, which I think is cool.

I think it has to do with the scales of everything. There are a lot of trans people who are simple and just live their lives as human people who laugh and cry and love and have wants/needs/dreams. There are, though still a smaller population of trans people, who make an effort to make (their) gender/identity a prime staple of their life and have near everything revolve around it. They too laugh and cry and have hopes and dreams.Of that tiny population, it separates out to the people who are more the activist type and those who are more into it as a concept. It keeps dividing into more and more micro niche pockets of people, more and more .0000000001% of an already relatively small global population levels of niche. Numbers so small that they could probably get counted on your fingers

I really think that it’s the incessant inclusion of the internet into nearly every single aspect of daily life that’s wrecking the brains of already fragile minds. The alt right platform mentality is growing bc of the relatively innocent minds of people not knowing any better, of not knowing anything else other then what’s directly in front of them because of their life circumstances that they probably have no say in. Maybe they were told it was better for them and others around them, and that’s why they believe what they believe? Maybe it’s the sense if belonging they get because of those taught ideals, because they feel like they don’t belong in other available spaces in the real world..? Because of the heavy inclusion of online activity and spaces*, I think we’re loosing the ability to just… talk to each other. I think people don’t see other people as the same is them anymore… they are just you with a different pair of shoes and a different face, no matter how different they are.

( *- I could go on about all of that but I don’t want to make this post 50 thousand miles longer then it needs to so I’ve condensed this part.)

I’d love to live in a world one day where people as a whole understand more about other people in their own culture who are simply just a little more different then them. ‘Understanding’, in this context, put as plainly as possible, meaning “accepting that there are differences that you cannot control but that this differences aren’t going to kill or harm you in any way”, and not the more ‘universal’ use of the word that I’m hearing/understanding it to mean ‘accept 100% and are on equal levels with and are on board with ideally’. Instead of people attempting to get along and maybe talk things out so there is more understanding between cis and trans people we’re just going to keep fighting. I keep seeing the same exact things being tossed at one another and things gotta change, there really has to be a better way to talk to each other bc we’re going in circles. We are stuck in a rut and no one seems to be going anywhere besides around that corner.

You know what I’d love to do as a queer? Have a safe fair paying job with my lil squishy bf + friends (cis, straight, trans, and queer identities) and live out in a rural area away from the suburbs. We’d all love to have some goats or chickens or some other fowl. We’d love to have cats and a little cuddly socialized n trained chihuahua. If we could ever afford it, we’d have a small animal rescue. As long as you’re not harming anyone with your actions or your words, live and let live. I don’t want to live with anxiety that I’m gonna somehow end up on a hate group’s list because of a few cultural or social differences and be taken away to some strange and scary place (at the best) for who knows how long away from my family n friends because I happen to be different.

Please, for everyone’s health and safety, let’s learn to love each other again. The world is already a big and scary place that doesn’t need any more violence against one another.

[ladyloveandjustice]

(CW for real life murder and domestic violence in this vid btw)

So the Thanfiction story is one I have the tiniest bit of involvement in--I'm no longer into HP fandom for The Obvious Reason but I did spork Andy's DAYD fic back in the day for this HP community (it's what we used to call it when you went through someone's fic and made fun of it MST3K style.) Only did this because I knew Andy was a POS so I wasn't worried about hurting his feelings. Andy even emailed me telling me he didn't mind did I want to talk etc. and I emailed him back saying he needed to stop hurting people. No response.

It's NOT a good fic, prose very purple and the plot and characterization was bad, here are some highlights of the wild shit:

-Managed to be possibly even worse on race than the actual HP books which is a feat. Suddenly every character of color was whatever their racial stereotype was. The Patil twins were really into yoga and had yoga and snake based magic! Li Su mentions that she totally gets their yoga and tea stuff because "the mountains between India and China are not so vast" (what??? WHAT??).

This also extended to national stereotypes- with Scottish Ernie suddenly being a very violent angry person who drank a lot with a ridic over the top accent that would even put Rowling to shame despite being a pompous drip in the source material, and Irish Seamus of course getting drunk all the time and sleeping around. (He was also very clearly Thanfiction's Favorite Self-Insert along with Neville).

-Extremely misogynistic which should surprise no one. Girls were constantly described as "fragile" and "dainty", (even those who were jocks in the source material) and a lot of emphasis was put on how manly the guys were. All the girls suddenly had the same personality, mildly sassy but swooning constantly over the boys and also literally cleaning up after them and making them shower

-There was a plotline where Lavender Brown got raped by Crabbe and Goyle, and of course it was entirely focused on the boys reaction to this and their hardcore vengeance crusade, with no exploration of her feelings. They just ended up breaking their fingers and vaguely threatening them so it wasn't even cool revenge. She also magically recovered from her PTSD as soon as they got revenge and hopped into bed with Seamus.

Lavender is then graphically killed at the end of the fic (the movies later killed her off too but the books weren't clear either way).

-Hannah, Neville's gf in the fic, is described as chubby in the actual books. Of course Thanfiction had it turn out that it was her robes that were making her (and no one else?) look fat and she had a supermodel's body. Nevile, also chubby, is now super jacked with chiseled abs and is so embarrassed he used to be fat. It's very funny that he scorns girls for their Mary Sues while using the exact same tropes, also that he was angling to live up to Rowling's fatphobia.

-He had these two boys who were obsessed with each other and wore each other's clothes and had MATCHING TATTOOS and did everything together, clearly bait for the M/M shippers but he acted FURIOUS when those "empty headed" girls shipped them, forbade people from using "his" characters in fics, calling it plagiarism (the hypocrisy is incredible), and said they didn't understand how deep and special male friendship was! The bond between men in the military is like the specialest thing to ever exist but NOT dirty and gay. This deep bond of brotherhood could never measure up to relationships stupid women have.

-The gays did NOT kiss in actual DAYD, sorry Strange, that is not true, maybe in the sequels or a side story though. What did happen was he decided Dean Thomas was gay and tragically in love with to his straight bff Seamus, he tells Seamus this and Seamus responds by calling him a bunch of homophobic slurs, and then Dean dies in the Battle of Hogwarts and Seamus gets to tragically angst about it. Recall that Dean is one of the few Black characters in HP too.

( I think he later walked this back and had Seamus like, also have buried gay feelings for Dean he just wasn't aware of or something, likely in response to people criticizing this plotline)

-There was a plotline where they included Slytherins in the DA and just forgave them constantly calling all the Muggleborn students HP's made-up slurs, Neville literally tells the targets of the slurs to calm down when they get mad about it. This is pretty OOC because the HP books, for all their flaws, always had everyone go ballistic on Malfoy and beat the shit out of him for doing that, so. uh. i guess that was Thanfiction's addition.

-Snape for some reason was constantly trying to murder Neville and other students despite the fact he was supposed to be secretly on their side, it made no sense. Snape sucks but the podcaster was right, his actions were inexplicable just because Thanfiction needed a Voldemort like antagonist.

-For the record, there weren't a lot of traditional OCs, he just took minor characters who were only mentioned once or twice and made them his own. and by his own I mean bad.

-In the sequel, Hermione is raped in front of Ron, then dies while having a demon baby. yeah. Actually now that I think of it did he steal that plot point from Berserk?? Oh my god he did.

-he named his serial killer character the same as my user name at the time, which was a coincidence because he did it slightly before I started sporking but it's still funny.

HERE IT ISSSSSSSSSS

[msftsn]

and @intcritus wrote in the journal : o , to gently kiss a forehead in a soft gesture. page 19 of the tales of lysandra and kazimir.

her hand is gentle on his face, as if he was made of glass; or as if he would recoil at the slightest pressure. a sentiment that ... may have held more truth to it than him being fragile. or perhaps it was his soul, whatever remained of it now, that was fragile. maybe he was soft and meant to be treated soft rather than going through battles he was not meant to survive under normal circumstances every day. yet here he is, like a dog tied to a post he remains still as if waiting to be rescued out of such a sketchy scene. except he isn't - he'd much rather tuck his tail in and run than let his trust in someone be his downfall yet again. a mutt that had been kicked and beaten one too many times. one whose muzzle was scarred and only bearing growls these days. except not really. not when he is staring at her in confusion, surprise and fear taking over his eyes as much as human emotions will let themselves be presented on his face. perhaps for the first time since meeting lysandra in this life he permits himself to show just how scared he is of being in her proximity, of how terrifying it is to be near someone who makes him feel so alive when he wouldn't even exist without her.

had it not been for her he would've found a way to tear himself to pieces a long time ago. he would have. but something stopped him from saying goodbye and he hated himself for it every day. dead people should stay dead; shouldn't take up room from the living. and yet here he was. he continues to stare at her, looking up from his sitting position as he processes the sensation of soft lips against his forehead. he can't do anything else but let that sink in. after everything he's done, all the goodbyes and parted ways she was still showing him a tenderness unrivaled. one he wasn't worthy of and yet she gave it to him anyways. if he could blush, perhaps he would. instead his cheeks heat up artificially as his body tries to regulate itself. feeling shy he opens his mouth partially to speak only to close it again lest he become a flytrap.

he remembers hearing someone say that the scariest thing about distance was that one could never know if they'll be missed or forgotten. a selfish part of him had always hoped he'd be forgotten if he disappeared often enough, instead this gesture sealed his deal, forcefully reminded him that he'd be missed no matter where he went. he wants to speak but the words evade him for the first time in his life; someone who used to talk and talk to fill the silence and not give his thoughts a chance to do as much as breath, speechless in the face of that rare tenderness you only find once in a lifetime. and he's found it again, in this life just as he had in the other. he can't stop himself, rases his arms to wrap them around lysandra, pulls her into a tight hug, trembling as if his body were shaking from sobs. he can't, physically, but being overwhelmed seemingly causes a mimicking of such reactions. he holds onto her like his life depends on it, and it does. because as terrified as he is of love, he doesn't want to- can't lose it ever again. he doesn't know what he'd do without her.

[fradesh]

What to Learn from the Social Media Wars?

Our careers are becoming more fragile by the day.

We would have hardly been excited for five minutes at a new career prospect when we see the news of that thing dying or being replaced by x and y already.

It has happened to me with writing, blogging, screenwriting, proofreading, editing, composing music, etc.

Writing is dead! Blogging is dead! Blogs are dead! Journalists are dead! AI proofreads better than you! Screenwriters are not needed anymore! This bot makes music better than you! Copywriters are dead! Videos are obsolete(okay, I haven’t heard that yet, but who knows!) Hollywood writers are starving! Actors are being replaced! This AI influencer is making headlines in Japan, x CEO replaced their worker, 50 jobs that won’t exist by 2024, etc. etc.

I am scared of dreaming now.

Are dreams dead?

Death is a part of life, I understand. But focusing on your professional life is what makes your real life possible. And with all but talks of death about a thing, I don’t know how to focus on that thing.

It’s not just about the type of thing we make.

Now, even the platforms where we share our stuff are vulnerable.

We all know how it is with Medium. The way they have handled my views and reach in the last two months, I won’t be surprised if the platform shuts down this evening.

Here’s one with Tumblr.

We all know the Twitter saga.

So what do we do? Where do we go?

I think I have a solution. For that, we need to go to an old Buddha teaching.

Talking about gurus, ideas, and enlightenment, he said thus:

Treat every guru and idea like a boat that takes you across the river. Ditch that boat when you reach the other end and move forward. Don’t attach yourself to the boat. Just because it has helped you doesn’t mean you need to carry its burden.

THE LESSON:

In the context of creative workers, content and media platforms have to be approached as boats, not goals. Our goals can be knowledge, communication, entertainment, money, whatever. We approach a content-type or platform on a day-to-day basis. As a boat.

We use a content-type or a social media platform to get from A to B today. When we reach B, we ditch them and go to a different content-type and media. We won’t depend on or attach ourselves to the form. We don’t need to carry their burden! We exploit them!

This is how it should work for writers:

Today I write on Medium, share on LinkedIn. I back up my writings. Tomorrow if writing itself is dead or Medium/LinkedIn collapse, I turn my writing into video or audio or whatever is there.

And so on…

My goal as a writer is knowledge and communication. It is not ‘to write’. Writing is a form of communication. It is not the goal. It is a means, not an end.

And if tomorrow they come to take my knowledge and communication too, I will escape to a higher goal:

Wisdom and Dreams, maybe. And find ways to live through them.

This way, I (a human) evolve faster than the platforms (tech).

Just as it should be…

[rubykgrant]

(hello, if you want to see the bitter-sweet potential of Alpha almost-dad? Epsilon-bro, Tex not-mom-but-something and Carolina family, here is the bit from my "Epsilon leaves behind emotional messages for everybody" story, here is him saying good-bye to Carolina~)

When he speaks, his voice has a slight fragile quality… like he’s already been through a LOT, and this is all he has left.

“I thought maybe… if I saved you for last, it would be easier… but it really isn’t. How do I even EXPLAIN how I feel? About everything? Before I existed, there was Alpha, who went through… a LOT of crap. He got manipulated, tortured, used as a weapon, forced to hurt people, torn apart and put back together again. All those memories were put into Epsilon, and at one point, it was all I had. I hated most of my life… and you know what? I’d still go through it all again, knowing I’d eventually meet this group of weirdos, and knowing that I’d eventually meet YOU, Carolina. You never got to really knew Alpha, but he knew who you were, and believe it or not... he really cared. Even before I understood everything, I cared too. We both cared about YOU. I doubt I’m what most people would consider a father figure, and honestly the idea of being in charge of keeping a very small person alive scares the HELL out of me, but um, I- I guess, uh… aw, whatever, I wish one of us could have been there for you when your dad wasn't. I’m sure I would’ve sucked, and Alpha probably wouldn't win father-of-the-year, but if nothing else, we wouldn’t have just stood back and watched while you half-way killed yourself trying to prove you mattered. You’ve got nothing to prove, Carolina.

You also don’t need to keep hating yourself, either. I know you’re carrying around all the guilt for every mistake you ever made, and I know you can’t just forget about it… but PLEASE, don’t go and half-way kill yourself because you think you need to be punished somehow. Everybody does bad things, some worse than others, but that doesn’t mean you are going to be nothing but a bad person forever. I also want to say… if she- if she had known… Carolina, if Tex had realized who SHE was and who YOU were before everything went to hell… if things had been different, you two would have gotten along. No, more than that… she would have loved you, Carolina. Your mother always did, but Tex would have too, just from getting to know you. As a PERSON. Tex wasn’t LITERALLY your mother, she wasn’t just a copy of Allison or a ghost… but Tex still cared. I wish Tex had the chance to see you again... and I’m so glad I got to know you, just for a little while. It wasn’t long enough. You were the one who helped me see who I really was... what made me different from Alpha, and what I shared with him.

Carolina, you’ve been through a lot. You’ve lost two families, your parents and your friends from the Freelancer program… but you aren’t alone anymore. You’ve got a new family now, and they are a tough bunch to get rid of! I mean it, you are stuck with them. These are YOUR weirdos now. If I can give one line of fatherly advice, it is this… show them who’s boss. Are they acting crazy? You act crazier! Are they being annoying? You show them they don’t even know the MEANING of annoying! Remember, you are the BEST, Carolina. So, be the best at being a problem. Living with them is like a game, and if you try to be the only one who stays mature and serious, you’re gonna lose. Haha… man, this is already too much, I didn’t mean to ramble so long… I guess I feel like… I feel like if I just keep talking- if I just keep TALKING, then this won’t have to end, it won’t be over, I won’t have to… I just have to say it, don’t I? I just have to say it. OK, OK… I love you, Carolina. Good-bye.”

(ret-con video thinks it's got angst, MAN I got angst for DAYS... but also, I'm nice~)

everyone makes the carolina & tex "you're not my real mom" jokes but like. she and epsilon have Definitely had a "fuck off you're not my father" conversation.

[suna-reversed]

Hello :)

Sukuna. fluff. Pretty please.

Could you write something about sukuna falling for itadori's best friend. You can throw some angst in there too because I am a masochist❤️

Sukuna x F! Reader 

oh god, this turned purely self indulgent halfway through. low key thinking of turning this into a series to give you the angst you deserve.

A/N: (reader is Itadori’s senior and is 18) (loosely inspired by the song “me and my husband” by mitski)

“And I am the idiot with the painted face

In the corner, taking up space

But when he walks in, I am loved, I am loved”

——-

- You had been one of the few poor senior students who had been victim to what had been Itadori’s “elevator pitch” for more people to join the occult club early back in high school. [the said “elevator pitch” being him jumping out at random people with a white bedsheet over his head saying “boo” as he handed you the club form]

- You didn't end up joining the club. But you somehow did end up getting joined at the hip with the chaotic mess under the white sheet.

- Whether it was you two rushing to the theatre to watch Jennifer Lawrence’s new movie,  or going to a revolving sushi place [only to get pocky from a nearby vending machine instead because revolving sushi is apparently expensive], Itadori Yuuji had become a comforting and very important presence in your life.

- So of course when he suddenly dropped out of your life, being the worried friend you were, you decided to poke around a little only to find out that he was...dead?

- Maybe a few months down the line, you would’ve started to slightly recover from the tragic news you had just gotten. Instead, what you got was your supposedly dead best friend popping up days later to tell you that he ate a finger and now he was the vessel for some centuries old curse,,,

- Um yeah...safe to say that Yuji did not expect you to go into the fit of emotions that you did [boy had the audacity to call you dramatic for fainting and then crying while hugging him once you gained consciousness] 

- some time passed and Yuji and you didn’t see each other much with him practically training to be the strongest jujutsu sorcerer. Still, simply happy to have him back alive, your brain managed to convinced itself that everything was still the same. 

- And it was when he’d sneak out a day or two from his heavy schedule and you’d be back to your normal routine of watching movies, stuffing your face with snacks, getting your face licked by the mouth on Yuji’s hand…

- ,,,wait what

- The first time the curse had made contact with you was simply out of annoyance of why the stupid brat even took the time to see someone as mundane as you so often.

- His plan was to simply scare you into leaving, knowing it would cause the brat pain.

- So he grabbed the opportunity when Yuji moved forward to brush off some popcorn dust on the side of your mouth, not only licking the side of your face but also being successful in slightly grazing his teeth against your tender skin. 

- Yuji had mentioned that being a vessel had caused some weird physical “abnormalities” for him. you didn’t understand it back then but at least knowing that had sort of prepared you for such an instance.

- So imagine the curse’s surprise [and an even further growing annoyance] when your eyes barely widened for a second before you burst into laugher, 

“Didn’t you train your dog to not bite?”

- by now, Yuji had jumped 5 feet away from you and was still halfway through his string of apologies, but upon hearing your reaction, he mused on your fake calm while letting out a chuckle himself, 

- “Guess I’ve got to get a leash for him” 

- By this point, the ever so indifferent curse had taken two teenagers talking about him like a mere annoyance as a personal challenge.

- And that’s how it started.

- He’d come out every now and then, licking your fingers as Yuji passed you something or making lewd remarks on anything and everything that you ever started a conversation about. 

- But you and Yuji barely paid him attention and it was an understatement to say that it infuriated the living hell out of him.

- Particularly you, who wouldn’t even be annoyed or sarcastic about his tactics anymore. Instead, treating him like a friend who was simply joining you and the brat to hang out. 

- He hated it. Hated how bright your laugh was. Hated how you made them stop every time you saw a stray animal just so you could pet it. Hated how your skin was as soft as a cloud and how you sometimes smelled like cherry blossoms. He’d kill you in an instant if he could ugh.

- it was a weekend and Yuji and you had been watching a movie, even though Yuji was barely paying attention. You knew he was tired as his large frame slumped over your shoulder. Pulling the blanket up to his face, you once again felt the wet feeling of the assaults you had grown familiar with on the side of your hand.

- “You could’ve just asked for a pocky if you wanted one, no need to lick it off my fingers you grumpy little thing”, you laughed as you stood up to go to the bathroom

- that snapped the final string. 

- Coming back into your living room, you wondered if Yuji had somehow gotten up in his sleep and managed to draw weird black lines over himself all in the span of 5 minutes. 

- ‘Yuji, what the fuck?’

- ‘Well well, now who’s acting like a grumpy little thing’ 

- The deep voice sent rumbles down your spine and you knew in an instant what had happened. 

- Even though your breath hitched in your throat and your body begged for you to run as fast away as you can, you held your ground as you simply tilted your head at the curse 

- “Well, I’d like my best friend back if you don’t mind.”

- You saw the smirk on Sukuna’s face falter for just a second before he crossed the space between the couch and you.

- Now as strong of a front as you managed to hold up until now, watching something like that stride straight towards you would have had even the strongest of sorcerers shitting bricks.

- Instinctively, you took a few steps backwards, but he simply continued to close the distance between the two of you until you were backed up against the wall.

- You flinched as he slammed a hand right next to your head and he seemed to gain immense satisfaction from that as he looked down at your startled face with a smirk plastered on his tattooed face. 

- Sukuna was sure that you’d be begging for his mercy any second now. His smirk widened and he was ready to mock your pleas as he saw you open your mouth to say something, 

- “ ...so much for a damn pocky.”

- All those other times you had caught the curse off guard were nothing compared to the “partially-confused partially-baffled” expression that he held on his face now. It almost made him look human. Almost.

- You didn’t realise just how long you were holding his gaze until Yuji took back control and apologized like a million times over, reassuring you that he would’ve never let you get hurt. 

- The curse didn’t show up for almost a week after that. And while you were grateful for not having to wash off your hands or face 14 times a day, you somehow felt anxious about its sudden disappearance. 

- All those worries were thrown out the window as he once again showed up while Yuji was passed out on the couch after a particularly tough session with Gojo sensei.

- Looking at the curse, you felt anger more than anything, how could he just drop out on you with no warning and then show up in the middle of your living room- ...wait a second, why the hell are you mad at a literal curse for not telling you he was taking a mental health break or whatever it was that he was doing? 

- While you sorted out through these conflicting thoughts in your mind, the curse seemed to be going through a similar crisis. 

- Having woken up in the brat’s fragile human body with no warning whatsoever, Sukuna wasn’t in the mood to see your face so soon again. He didn’t know why your physical presence unsettled him so much. All he knew was that he hated it. Even more now that he knew what you looked like all scared and small compared to his vessel’s towering build, and how you smelled even sweeter than what he had tasted, and how despite all that you still had the courage to stand up to someone as dangerous as him. Ugh, disgusting. 

- “The stupid brat passed out.”

- Such a simple statement caused you to snap your head up at him. But he didn’t wait for your reaction as he somehow managed to plop down on the couch while still looking graceful. Picking up the half eaten box of pocky, he warily pulled one out, eyeing it as if it was  a poisoned dagger before breaking off a piece and placing it on his tongue.

- “This is what you would risk your life for, brat?” 

- He turned his head slightly to look at you still frozen in place, staring at him with that doe eyed look that made his chest burn a little. Isn’t this what he wanted all along?

- “Are you simply going to stand there and gawk? I don’t bite-...well, not unless you ask me to.”

- He knew that would set you right back to your usual self,

 - “...maybe we do need to get a leash after all.”

- Sukuna internally grinned as he saw you move to the other side of the couch, ready to hear whatever more of the snarky comeback that you’d have (not that he was anticipating it, it was just the better alternative to being gaped at. Or so he told himself)

- “You ate the non chocolate covered part of the pocky by the way-”

- “As if a layer of this disgusting brown substance can make the rotten stick taste bette-”

- “Well aren’t sticks all you had to eat in yOuR TiME anyways?”- 

—-

- You somehow managed to fall asleep after the bickering, proceeding to sit in silence after you told him to not bother you while you tried to read. You wouldn’t admit it, but you were a little disappointed when he actually didn’t. Instead, he sat on the couch with a slight smirk still plastered on his face, continuing to simply gaze at you. your heart did lunges every time you slyly looked up from your book to take a peak at him. you wondered how many ways he had come up with to kill you so far. 

- On the other hand, the curse sat idly, watching you while his thoughts rumbled in his mind. Maybe killing you can be pushed off the agenda for now. There are much better ways to hurt the brat anyways aren't there? Perhaps he could use one of these brownish covered sticks to-...what is he thinking?

- He ultimately deems it stupid brat’s humane emotions and sheer stupidity that must be interfering with his thoughts.

- A loud sneeze snaps him out of his daze as he sees you slumped against a pillow, your book falling off your lap. And then he does something that he immediately decides that he would pretend to have not done for the rest of his existence. Luckily, the brat takes back control right after he does it anyways.

- But that thought slips his mind as he finds himself replaying the serene look on your face as he gently pulled the book out of your hands, and how his hands shook a little as you nuzzled your nose into the fabric of the blanket that he pulled over you. How could you have felt so calm around him?