#maybe i should do something celebratory for myself??

[majorbaby]

🍉🪄

🍉 in what ways has writing helped you process trauma and/or navigate through your own life?

i started writing again regularly about a year ago and it's mostly been to process joy, rather than trauma. when i read some of my old stuff now i'm like damn, he was really going through it. but i don't think it helped me process stuff back then, it was just a way for me to wallow in it, which made things worse and is probably why i stopped writing. it's helpful to look back now because it's always helpful to reflect on past hardships.

also ngl writing smut helped me shake the last bit of sexual repression that still had me in its grip. dicks out for MASH!

🪄 what is your post-writing/sharing aftercare? How do you take care of yourself or celebrate yourself when you've finished a fic?

all my writing rituals are pre-posting. the only thing i can think of which i'd consider 'celebratory' is reading whatever comment marley has written. she's my very thorough beta and will have already have given me plenty of varied feedback before i post, but still spoils me with a comment every time.

[halfwashedgooch]

best friend who challenges you to see who has a higher tolerance but you don’t think you remember them taking more than 1 hit

“there’s no way you have any chance of beating me, i can out smoke you any day pretty. what are you talking about? this is like my 4th hit, i swear.”

best friend who watches you take hit after hit, not even trying to stop you. just smiling, watching you become more and more dazed

“i think you actually did it pretty! you should take a celebratory b0ng hit. what do you mean your head feels funny? you just jumped up too quickly when i said you won. yes, i do think you’re being silly, you’re fine.”

best friend who uses your impaired sense of judgment to their advantage.

“come sit up here near me, you can relax ya know. i won’t bite unless you let me. it’s a joke — i’m joking pretty, i promise. you should unzip your hoodie, it’s so hot in here. i really don’t think you need it. fine, if you don’t want to take it off you can just leave it unzipped.”

best friend who speaks sweetly, whispering lewd thoughts and promises in your ear, watching as your brain leaks out your ear and you slowly become increasingly pliant in their hands.

“have i ever told you how pretty your eyes are? especially when they’re all low and glassy like that. i think you would look so pretty on your knees looking up at me, don’t you think so too? do you tremble like this when you cum? do you get all teary eyed when you do it? you don’t know? well maybe you’ll let me see for myself, how’s that sound pretty? what, of course i’m joking.”

best friend who notices you soaking a wet patch through the front of your sweats, instructing you to take them off

“why have you got your thighs pressed together so tightly? what are you hiding? let me see. aww, that’s so cute. are you turned on or something? from what. are you some type of slut? i didn’t even say anything to you for real. you always make innocent things so filthy. i didn’t say anything like that. i’m being mean?you’re calling me mean? after you just made up these lies about me. i don’t have to be nice to you, i could leave and go back to my place instead of taking care of you. shh it’s ok, it’s ok, you don’t have to cry pretty. now here, you’re gonna get sick if you leave them on. you might as well take them off, you’re gonna mess up my couch. i’m only looking out for you, they’re gonna be uncomfortable when they get cold.”

best friend who sits you down on their lap with your back to their chest in just your boxers and hoodie. feeling them rub circles in your thighs and pinch your nipples.

“i know you’re probably freezing without any pants on, come sit up here. i’m not asking you, i’m telling you. i’ll keep us both warm. what, no, i’m only rubbing to keep you warm. no, there’s no other way, i have to keep pinching them because you’re dozing off during the movie. how could you fall asleep in the middle of it? you’re the one that picked it, i wouldn’t really be happy if you did.”

best friend who sighs in faux annoyance noticing you soaked the front of your boxers, instructing you to take those off too with a huff

“ really? you did it again? seriously, what’s wrong with you. all weird over some friendly touching. i did not touch you like that, what do mean i did this on purpose. are you crazy? why would i ever do something like this on purpose? why would i intentionally risk messing up my couch or my pants? you might as well take those off too. it’s the same thing as your pants. you’re not gonna like them when they get cold. i wouldn’t want you being uncomfortable for no reason.”

best friend who sneaks their hand in between your thighs, pressing their fingers against your clit

“i’m not doing anything, you’re making it all up. you literally just put my hand down there. i’m only doing what you wanted me to do. you didn’t need to say you wanted me to do this. you put my hand here. you’re my best friend, how could i ever say no to you?”

best friend who laughs at you as you squirm and cry out from the heightened sense of pleasure

“is this movie seriously what turns you on? are you sure it’s not the movie? i don’t knowww, i’m not even doing anything to you really. listen to how wet you are. sit still, you can’t hear it properly if you’re moving around so much. shhh this is the good part, you’re gonna miss it if you keep making all those noises. i can’t even hear it over all the sounds you’re making.”

best friend who keeps going long after you’ve made a mess of their lower half and you’ve tried to pull their hand away

“you can’t be possibly be finished yet, we just started. give me one more, you can do one more. stop whining about it, i know your body better than you know your body. i thought you were tough, you beat me and now i’m trying to give you your reward and you’re complaining. move your hands, don’t touch mine again. i can’t believe you. when did my best friend turn into such an ungrateful brat. you’re really hurting my feelings, i think you should apologize to me. yeah, you should and we’re gonna keep going pretty, until i think i can forgive you for being so rude to me.”

best friend who lets you clean their fingers off and relax into them as you doze off

“thereee we go, open up, stick your tongue out. taste good doesn’t it? what do we say when we get rewards? good girl, you’re welcome! yes, of course you did an amazing job. see i knew you were going to enjoy the challenge. shhh, it’s ok, i know you’re sleepy pretty, just lie back. is this blanket warm enough? do you want me to turn the tv down? it’s ok, just close your eyes. i’ll be here when you wake up.”

[wriothesleybear]

~warnings: modern!au, mostly fluff with a little bit of smut (i couldn't help myself), mentions of creampies, gn!reader(hopefully i did it right this time), MDNI!

Professional Boxer!Wriothesley who's the #1 boxing champion with a high winning streak. He's on the cover of magazines and has a lot of fame and fortune, which he uses to spoil you. Buying you fancy clothes, expensive jewelry, taking you to the most expensive restaurants, and just buying you whatever you want. You tell him that he doesn't have to spend so much money on you, but he just grabs your hand, kissing it while telling you that it makes him happy spoiling you with gifts. How could you deny him happiness.

Professional Boxer!Wriothesley who works out with you. He either has you sit on his back while he does pushups or has you lay below him where every time he pushes down, he kisses you. Sometimes, it just ends up in a long, passionate make out session. Maybe something a little more *wink wink*. Just seeing you all sweaty and breathing heavily as you work out near him. Seeing you stretch your limbs, especially the one stretch that gives him a good view of your ass, makes it hard for him to control himself.

Professional Boxer!Wriothesley who saves a front row seat for you to his fights so you are able to watch him better. When he needs the motivation during his fight, he looks out in the crowd searching for you. Once his eyes land on you, he smiles and winks at you, gaining the motivation to fight and wanting to make you proud. It makes him happy seeing you supporting him in the stands, cheering for him, and screaming his name. If you make him a little sign, it'll make his heart skip a beat.

Professional Boxer!Wriothesley who immediately looks for you after a fight. Once he spots you, he heads straight for you, pulling you into a tight hug. Even though he's all sweaty and musky, you don't mind, wrapping your arms around his neck. He passionately kisses you in front of the crowd. It shows how much you mean to him. Plus, it's his way to thank you for being there for him and supporting him.

Professional Boxer!Wriothesley who melts when you give him massages to help him relax his sore muscles. Your massages especially help him when he's stressed for an upcoming fight. All worries leave his mind once your soft hands explore his body. He groans when you push on the right spots where he's the most tense.

Professional Boxer!Wriothesley who enjoys the celebratory sex you two have after he wins a fight. You prefer 'celebrating' at home, but sometimes when he's still full of adrenaline from the fight, he can't help taking you right there in the locker rooms. You could do it in his personal dressing room like usual, but he thinks its much more exciting with the risk of being caught. Your moans echoing in the empty space, the sounds of your ass slapping against his pelvis, getting him closer to the edge. It's not a celebration if it doesn't end in him creampieing you.

Professional Boxer!Wriothesley who loves the gentle care you put in when patching up his wounds, making sure to carefully patch them up so as not to irritate them. After you finish patching him up, you smother him in kisses, making sure to add extra ones on his boo-boos. Moments like these remind him how lucky he is to have you. He should do something about that. Maybe a ring will do..

Professional Boxer!Wriothesley who buys you a big, fat diamond ring. He plans this whole special proposal for you. He takes you out to dinner, feeding you the most delicious foods. Once stuffed, he takes you to a movie, where he rented out the whole theater just for you two. After the movie, he takes you to the small boxing club where you two first met. He thinks it's the perfect place to propose. He leads you into the center of the boxing ring, holding your hands as he gives you a speech about how much you mean to him. Then he gets down on one knee and pulls out a red box, holding the most gorgeous ring you've ever seen. You can't help the tears from flowing as you say yes. Once he slips the ring on your finger, you jump into his arms, tightly hugging him and pulling him into a kiss. You both end the night making passionate love in your shared bed, fingers intertwined as he slowly pumps into you, filling you up with his seed.

[lilacliquors]

pairing: bi-han x reader

sweet or spicy: sweet

word count: 728

prompt: [  OVERHEARD  ]: sender reveals that they’re in love with the receiver to a third party, not realizing that the receiver, while out of sight, has just overheard the confession. - bi - han x reader

notes: here's day five of the sweet and spicy special! we've got some fluffy bi-han goodness that definitely takes place before bi-han's betrayal, and i had such a fun time writing this <3 even though i didn't want to use [y/n] and did my best to avoid it. that being said, if anyone would like a part 2 to this, just, you know, hmu ;)

your first time visiting outworld was everything you had ever dreamed it would be. everything around you was so vibrant, you couldn’t help but be amazed with it all. as part of liu kang’s security, you, along with the lin kuei brothers, stuck together while earthrealm’s champion and the others prepared for the tournament ahead. 

as it was tradition, there was a celebratory feast to welcome you all as guests, and to properly start the tournament, and it would be the one time you all got to unwind before you had to be on high alert. you and the brothers were sitting a bit farther away from the other earthrealmers, but still close enough if you were needed. 

“have you had any of the wine?” tomas asked you, offering you a glass.

“should we? i feel like this might be stronger than anything back home. can we really risk the possibility—”

“we’ll be fine,” bi-han interjected, his deep voice rumbling through you.

“well, maybe you will be. some of us don’t have fancy ice powers,” you said, smiling a bit. he looked away from you, and in the glow of the beautiful lights surrounding the tables, you swore his cheeks looked flushed. you and tomas shared a look, and you shrugged your shoulders before taking a glass of wine and sipping it slowly, determine to nurse it for the rest of the night.

once the feast was finished, and you were all heading off to your chambers, you took a small detour to wander the gardens. empress sindel had given you permission, and you weren’t sure if you’d ever get the chance to explore again, so you took the opportunity eagerly. as you walked around, you gazed at the flora, enchanted by its beauty. it was so strange to think that there were millions, perhaps billions, of people who would never know that outworld, and all of its beauty, existed. yet you were one of the lucky ones. as you continued on your walk, you could hear voices engaging in conversation, and you couldn’t help yourself. you were silent as you crept closer, and as the voices became more distinct, you could just make them out.

“... need to be honest with yourself, brother,” kuai liang’s voice was soft.

“there is nothing to be honest about. you’re looking too deeply into matters that simply do not exist,” bi-han replied, his voice gruff.

“nonsense. i saw the way you gazed at them during the feast. let yourself experience a bit of joy, bi-han. this life is short, and i don’t think father—”

“father wouldn’t know how to discuss this, nor would he care to.”

“i’m afraid i’ll have to disagree. you’ll remember how much he loved mother. of all his teachings, perhaps that is the one you should think about.”

you crept closer, your curiosity getting the better of you. the brothers were discussing … love? it was strange enough to think about either of them being in love, they were so honor bound, wrapped up in their duties, especially bi-han as he wore the mantle of grandmaster. but he would be needing heirs some day, so maybe the idea wasn’t too far fetched. and for some reason, it made you … sad.

“i don’t need to embarrass myself, kuai liang,” bi-han muttered. “as grandmaster, it would not do me any favors to make a fool of myself.”

“but you admit that, in order to make a fool of yourself, there’s … something there?” kuai liang asked, and you could almost hear the smile in his voice. there were some faint grumblings, and then a quiet groan of frustration.

“yes. there is something there. i … i’ve fallen in love with them. and the way they looked in the glow of the lights, their laughter tonight, their smile … i couldn’t bear to lose it. yet i cannot face the shame and sting of rejection if they don’t feel the same,” he said, and his voice was the softest you’d ever heard. but above all of that … he was in love with you.

and you couldn’t say a word. you couldn’t let them know you had been eavesdropping. you couldn’t just pop out and present yourself. no, he had to come to you organically. and as you crept away from the brothers, you found yourself hoping that he did.

[sugawarassoccerlover]

general hurt/comfort. small self indulgent blurb for myself cause i need this rn :p

You sniffled, slowly calming down from your sobbing session. However, his arms remained around you, holding you securely against him. Your face was buried comfortably in his shoulder, as it usually does when things got like this. Sensing your decreasing cries, he moves one hand from your shoulder to your hair, stroking it with a tenderness that almost got you sobbing again. 

“Would you like to talk about it now, or do you just want me to keep holding you? Or we could do something else entirely, get out of the house, stay in, whatever you want, sweetheart” he said, pressing a soft kiss to your hair. 

“It’s stupid,” you mumbled against his shoulder.

You felt his body suddenly tense beneath yours. The hand on your hair moved to your chin, as he moved you so that he could look you in the eyes. “Nuh-uh. Nothing that bothers you is ‘stupid’. Even if an extreme tragedy didn’t happen, if it’s hurting or stressing you, its important. Now come on honey, wanna tell me what got you so worked up?”

“I just,” your voice broke and you lifted your hand to wipe the tears from your eye with the back of your hand. “I’m overwhelmed right now. Don’t get me wrong, I’m really excited about doing this class, and being able to start working, it’s just.. A lot. And it's so new. There’s so many things to do, so many things to consider. Things also aren’t going as smoothly as I expected them to do.”

“Aw, hun,” he brushed the hair away from your face. “I understand. Starting a new path in life is always going to be pretty scary. There’s so many unknowns, and it can just be a lot. But you have me to help you, to lean on. I’ll always support you in this. And you know what? I’m so proud of you, so fucking proud. You’re doing something outside of your comfort zone, and pursuing what you want despite all your worries. If I need to remind you every day, I will, but you’re doing so well. Things may not be going as smoothly as you expected, like you said, but you’re keeping with it regardless. I think that's something you should be proud of yourself for.”

His words made you tear up again. “Thank you, [__] that.. That means a lot coming from you.” 

“You know I'm not just saying this to say it, right? I mean it. You’re doing amazing, sweetie,” he said before kissing your forehead. The way he looked into your eyes, there was nothing put pure affection and admiration in his gaze. “You know what? This calls for a celebratory dinner. How about we get a nice dinner for you, and then afterwards maybe we can have some fun, catch my drift?” He said with a slight chuckle, raising his eyebrows. 

“Pervert!” You giggled, punching his shoulder lightly.

sugawara koshi, mitsuya takashi, kita shinsuke, osamu miya, tecchou suehiro, yuki sohma, carlos oliveira, hatori sohma, natsuo todoroki, satan, simeon, joe, kazuha, neuvillette, thoma, tighnari, rengoku kyojuro

[holyhead-hufflepuff]

not much but enough

LOVE INTEREST X READER

“If you ever looked at me once with what I know is in you, I would be your slave.” - Emily Brontë

warnings: none

"'Mione?" Your voice echoed off the stone classroom walls, harmonizing with the soft crying that rang in stark contrast against the celebratory noise from the Gryffindor tower. "Can I come in?"

"Why ask? I know that you'll come in, wrap into your arms, and reassure me that this heartbreak —this pain— will pass." You slid into the room, your eyes adjusting to the darkness and your heart aching for the brunette sitting on the dusty desk and sobbing. "I'm a fool, you know."

"Aren't we all?" You questioned, sliding onto the desk beside Hermione and placing your arm around her shoulder.

"Not like me," Hermione sniffled, sliding closer to your side and immediately warming you. "How did you know that you were in love?"

"'Mione, don't you think that we should talk about-"

"Please, y/n, I don't want to talk about something I don't understand entirely. I just-I just want to know how to know when you're in love, especially how to know when you're in love with a friend."

"I might not be the person for that," You chuckled, smiling at how fate brought them to you. "It's strange— I can replay all these moments before we fell for each other, but I don't pinpoint when I started to fall for them. We weren't friends for terribly long before, but it seemed like we always gravitated and found each other."

"There was this one time that I remember as clear as day, though. We were sitting in my room studying for the O.W.Ls, and they started telling me facts about Nifflers. It was completely out of the blue, and I don't think I processed anything they said. It made my day regardless; it still makes me smile seeing them passionate over things everyone else overlooks."

"We also didn't have some momentous event that marked the transition from friends to dating. I held their hand the entire time on an outing to Hogsmeade. I could feel their heart racing when I hugged them goodbye, and I just knew they were feeling the nervousness and excitement I was feeling. We talked, and then we were dating. Honestly, I think I'm the worst to explain how to tell when you're falling for someone."

"What does being in love feel like, though?" Hermione had leaned away from you and was wide-eyed as you talked. She held onto your words like a toddler listening to an epic bedtime story about adventure and tragedy.

"Nice?" You laughed at your own words. "I don't know, 'Mione. I guess it feels like someone cares about you in a way that no one else has. They're my first love, so maybe I'm biased, but it feels exactly like the books and movies. I find myself glancing them to make sure they are having fun. My heart still skips beats when they hold my hand in public. My body warms when they touch me. Mostly though, I feel happy. Even with all the horrible things happening in the world, I just feel lucky to have time with them. I don't know if we'll end up together forever or if we'll live out all the fantasies I've made up for us."

"I do know that I love them so truly and deeply that if they were to say they wanted to break up tomorrow, I would be grateful I had two brilliant years with them. It's not much, perhaps, but it's enough."

[sroloc--elbisivni]

Bunnyguard master post

July 1, 2023: in the spirit of shameless self-promotion here's a collective post for the Usagi Yojimbo/Rottmnt fusion Leosagi fic series I've been working on this year. somewhat celebratory because 1. I'm very excited to have hit the halfway mark on this project 2. my birthday is later this month and I can do a little treat for myself if I want 3. it's my first day off in ages and I can spend my time luxuriantly and frivolously. Prompts taken from Year of the OTP; titles from Richard Siken "Litany in which certain things are crossed out."

Post last updated December 22, 2023

Bunnyguard verse premise in three bullet points:

The cast of Usagi Yojimbo are embedded in the Hidden City

Draxum helped raised the turtles

Usagi gets hired as a bodyguard for Leo a month after the Krang invasion

January - "missionfic" - something other than the desperation Usagi does his best to not embarrass himself while Leo tries to do the same and fails. (the hero shifts from one foot to the other)

February - "mermaid au" - no one will ever want to sleep with you A first meeting sparks a series of increasingly dumb and desperate decisions. (the repeated image of the lover destroyed)

March - "mutual pining" - your heart, and it is painted shut We skip ahead in the timeline to the point where Usagi has decided he's going to just quietly pine forever and Leo stops for five seconds of self-examination and immediately starts planning his wedding. (the same big and little words, all spelling out desire)

April - "No, I'm not dating your brother" - There is something underneath the floorboards After a series of shenanigans, (some of) Usagi's misconceptions are corrected and Leo eventually gets a full night's sleep. (bruised and ruined, you poor sad thing)

May - "accidental pet/child acquisition" - Quit milling around the yard and come inside Usagi uses his day off to be with his family, including his son, and Leo takes a turn being the babysitter instead of the babysat. (Inside your head you hear a phone ringing.)

June - "you're not what I expected" - These terms from the lower depths After being chased by a demon, Leo and Usagi end up in the bones of both of their pasts, one after the other. (I have told you where I'm coming from, so put it together.)

July - "enemies to lovers" - recently we have had our difficulties Leo screws up, Usagi gets hurt, and they have to work together to fix it. (the moment of epiphany, in gold light)

August - "au of your choice" (free space) - close enough to see the blue rings Usagi fights a dragon and Leo has a bunch of minor problems happen all at once. (But it doesn't work, these erasures, this constant refolding of the pleats)

September - "hurt/comfort" - Are you there, sweetheart? Do you know me? An unexpected attack forces everyone involved to reexamine their circumstances. (Love always wakes the dragon and suddenly flames everywhere)

October - "identity shenanigans" - I guess I can tell you that now. Our heroes go on a date to a mob warehouse and find out things that were not exactly secrets but definitely unknown. (I walk through your dreams and invent the future)

November - "be careful what you wish for" - You want a better story. Who wouldn't? A confrontation, a choice, a number of things undone. (It should mean laughter, not poison.)

December - "forgiveness" - so maybe I wanted to give you something Our heroes reckon with their actions, and choose to try again. (I want more seats reserved for heroes. Dear Forgiveness, I saved a plate for you.)

[slothquisitor]

Dying Star

In which Astarion decides to one-up Mary Shelley. This is graveyard smut. It's been literal years since I wrote smut. Please be nice to me lol. Astarion x Liv, 4k. Not angsty for once!

Also on AO3.

___________________________________________________________

There is little time in the days following Cazador’s defeat for Liv to even catch her breath. Astarion remains quieter than usual, pensive at times. Their companions ask him how he is to try to check-in, but he shrugs off their concern with a joke or a haughty jut of his chin. Their group is well-versed in his fake smiles, in his cutting remarks, in what they hide. Still, no one presses him. They instead leave that to her. 

She knows that this is a complicated thing. Astarion did the right thing, and she’s sure he knows it, but he gave up a lot in the process. Which is what makes it all the more noble, not that he’d appreciate hearing that. Ever since their night on the roof, he has spent every night in her bed, they fall asleep tangled together, but she always wakes alone. He spends every sunrise on the roof. She hasn’t asked, but she’s suspecting he’s counting how many he has left. 

Perhaps they will still find a way for him to be able to walk in the sun even without the tadpole. 

But that is a problem for later. For days when they’re not saving Gondians from the Iron Throne or blowing up the Steel Watch Foundry. Their group eats a celebratory dinner, loud and happy, and while there is still much to do, today has felt like a victory. Astarion even stays, drinking and joining in with their friends. 

As the night winds down, he leans over and in a voice low enough that only she can hear, says, “There’s…something I’d like to show you, if that’s all right? Something out in the city.”

 She takes his hand in hers. “Of course.” And they slip out of the Elfsong into the dark streets of the lower city. 

As they walk hand in hand, it’s easy to pretend that they’re just another couple out in the city. That there is no Chosen of the Dead Three to deal with, that they can just be themselves. She’s struck with a vision of a future, of an after . She’s not really allowed herself to consider what it might look like or that they might have some chance at survival, but with him, she thinks that maybe there might be more than just a chance. That there might be something really worth fighting for. 

“I should probably start getting used to the shadows again, to dark streets and moonlit nights,” Astarion sighs, face upturned to the cool light of the moon. The moonlight suits him, casting his hair in liquid silver, his eyes a deep purple. He is a dying star, bright even in the darkness. But this is not the light he loves. 

“Perhaps,” she squeezes his hand in reassurance. “But who knows, maybe we’ll get lucky? Find a way.”

His answering smile is a soft thing. “If anyone could, it’s you. Assuming we survive of course because a horrible death is always just around the corner with you.”

She huffs a laugh at that. “Unfortunately, it's true.” 

“I’d still follow you anywhere,” he whispers into her hair before kissing the top of her head. The words feel like a promise. 

“How are you feeling, now you’ve had a little time?” 

He sighs. “It feels ridiculous to still be thinking of Cazador. He’s gone, I’m here, I won. But I still keep reliving what happened. Playing it over and over again in my mind. And yet, I feel invigorated and terrified. And I’m still trying to understand it really.”

“I’m sure it will always be a complicated thing. I’m sorry.”

“I came so close to losing everything back there. To losing myself. Back at the ritual, all I could see was the power on offer and the safety it promised. I was so blinded by it, just as Cazador was. But you saw something else in me - someone else I could be. Someone who could break the cycle of power and terror that started centuries ago. You saved me. I may not have appreciated it at the time, but I do now. Thank you.”

They had been close to losing him, but he had chosen differently. “You saved yourself. I just gave you a push.” She knows that the temptation of that power had been so difficult for him to turn away from, but she had always believed he could do it on his own. As selfish as he often pretends to be, he cares too much and too deeply. 

He stops, turning to her fully, shaking his head. “You did more than that. You believed in me, believed I was enough just the way I am. When I look at my future, anything and everything feels possible now. And I get to share it with you, as a partner, an equal. You saved me from myself, and let me walk a new path where I can be free, truly and honestly free. This is a gift, you know. Thank you - I won’t forget it.” She has never seen him this unburdened, this open, so very different from the man she’d met just a few short months ago. 

She grins. “Partners, huh?”

He tucks her hand in the crook of his arm as they continue walking. “If you’d like.”

She leans into him, squeezing his arm. “I’d like that very much.”

He covers her hand with his. “Good.”

They’ve walked far enough that she realizes now where Astarion has led them, it’s the cemetery. It’s quiet, peaceful even. Astarion lets go of her hand, stepping forward to a vine-covered grave. For all his casual ease from before, he seems a little stiff now, nervous even, before he approaches the grave and clears the dirt and ivy away. She realizes even before the name is fully legible, that this gravestone is his. 

“Two hundred years and I never came back. Not since the night I woke up down there. I had to punch a hole in the coffin and claw my way through six feet of dirt. And when I finally broke the surface, retching up dirt and congealed blood, Cazador was waiting. From that day on I was his. Until now.”

He spoke once about the pain of that transformation, about how his body became something that was no longer his. There was no reason for Cazador to allow Astarion to be buried, for him to suffer that way, except for the cruelty, the horror. Cazador deserved far worse. Two hundred years of suffering, but even afraid, he fought back and won. “You were never his. Whatever he had, he took by force.” 

“Maybe, but he did take it. There’s almost nothing left of the person I was. Just a name on a rock. For nearly two centuries I stalked the streets like a ghost while the person I was lay here dead and buried. Now I need to figure out who I am. What I want.” He glances at her with a soft smile, with something that feels all the more precious for what they’ve been through. 

“And what do you want?” she asks. It is a question she has been asking him even before she knew how important it was to him, and it is a question she will keep asking, keep pushing through her own fears because it is better to know than to wonder. 

His response is quick, with no hesitation. “You. I want you.” He turns toward her more fully. “You were by my side through all of this. Through bloodlust and pain and misery. You were patient. You cared. You trusted me when that was an objectively stupid thing to do. I feel safe with you. Seen. And whatever the future holds for me, I don’t want to lose that.”

The words fill up something within Liv, some yawning chasm that has been empty for years and years. He wants her . And not because of anything she can do or be or her magic. “I feel seen with you too. Whatever comes next, I’ve got you.”

“Thank you.” 

The moment hangs there, and she wonders if this is the moment she should tell him how she feels. But he’s clearly still working up to something, so she waits. He turns back to the gravestone. “Well, I should probably fix this.”

He approaches the gravestone, and for a time, the only sound is the scraping of his dagger on stone as he carves in a new epitaph. A life now his. He stands back after a minute, surveying his work before kneeling down on the grass. She joins him but doesn’t say a word, just holding this moment and all that it represents. 

“I’ve been dead in the ground long enough. It’s time to try living again,” he says before turning to her and taking both of her hands in his own. “With everything life has to offer.”

The way he’s looking at her holds so much promise, hope. Her heart speeds up. “Meaning?”

“If a night of passion is on offer. I could be persuaded,” he says with a sly grin. She recognizes it for the gift of trust that it is. That he wants to try again, try with her. 

She smiles. “I’d like that.”

He looks relieved. “You know, I didn’t care for you when we first met.”

She rolls her eyes. “Yes, I know. You made it very clear with every complaint and criticism of my-”

“I love you.”

She stops mid-sentence, looking into his eyes. He loves her? She grew up in a house where there were words missing. Words like love always sound funny in her mouth, as if she isn’t forming the words quite right. She has been cradling these words within her, holding them carefully as if they are fragile, unsure if she’s allowed to give them to him when she’s not positive she knows exactly what they mean. 

“You do?” Her voice sounds small, full of disbelief. 

Astarion’s eyes soften, his voice gentle. “I love you. I love this. And I want it all.” He reaches out, cupping her cheek, as he leans in. 

“I love you too,” she says, just before his lips meet hers. And the words feel exactly right. 

***

Liv is not the first person to tell him that she loves him, but it is the first time he has believed it to be true. It certainly isn’t the first time he’s said the words, he’d even said them to her once, in a streak of meanness following their first night together that he now regrets. He regrets saying the words to her the way he had, flippantly, and in a way to wound and hurt. This time when he says them, he’s cutting her off, surprising her. Her green eyes go wide with realization, and her whispered question tells him he needs to say it again. 

He holds her hands gently, her warmth seeping into him. “I love you. I love this. And I want it all.” He cups her cheek, reaching for her has become instinctive, easy. 

Her eyes are soft as he leans in, and he feels her words more than hears them. “I love you too.” The words light up something within him, casting some long-hanging darkness away. She loves him. Him. Not what he looks like or what he can do, certainly not his power. Him. 

He closes the distance, capturing her lips. This kiss is deliberately not careful in the way so many of their kisses have been since Moonrise. Tonight, he doesn’t want to be careful. He wants to be brave, to throw caution to the wind. He wants everything she is willing to give him, and he is willing to give everything over to her. 

He pushes her back into the grass, settling over her as he drags her bottom lip between his teeth. Her answering gasp is a lovely thing, and he drinks it down like starlight, hand skating down her side to her hip as his fingers pull her close. Her hands are tunneled in his hair, twisting in his curls, but they do not pull or direct, instead, they just anchor him here in this moment, with her. Like with so many other things in their relationship, she seems to be waiting for him to make the next step, to take the lead. 

Well, he can certainly do that. 

He rolls his hips into hers as he inches her shirt up, cupping one of her breasts. She hums into his mouth at the contact, and he breaks away to kiss down the column of her throat. She shivers as his teeth worry the skin at her neck, not enough to puncture, just enough of a promise that perhaps they’ll get there this evening. Her hands span the length of his chest, before deftly undoing the fastenings of his doublet, but then her fingers pause and she pulls back. 

He leans back to meet her gaze, ready to provide her with whatever reassurances she needs that he does in fact want this. “Everything alright, love?”

“You, we….” She is so very rarely fumbling, and it’s rather adorable. “Here?”

Is she serious? “Well, this late our other option is with our nearest and dearest friends in the same room. And as much as I enjoy voyeurism as much as the next person, I think I’d rather not have them participating tonight,” he says, fighting a laugh. 

“We could get caught!” she whispers. Her eyes are wide and guileless. She’s really not kidding.

He collapses into the crook of her neck, laughter overtaking him. “That, my dear, is part of the appeal. Could, but won’t. This place is quite dead this time of night.” He hates himself a little as he says it, but it’s worth it to get her laughing too. 

It earns him a swat of her hand against his shoulder. “I just mean if we get caught, we could get in trouble!”

“I’m sorry, are you concerned about getting in trouble for public indecency on the same day that you blew up a government facility?” 

“Apparently?” But even as she says it, she sounds far less sure than she did earlier.  

He brushes her hair back behind the tip of her pointed ear, looking for some hint that this hesitancy is part of something bigger. “If you’re not comfortable, we can go, but I have every confidence that the very powerful wizard who destroyed the entirety of the Steel Watch can protect us both from anyone who might catch us here.”

Her eyes are bright, and she shakes her head. “You’re a terrible influence,” she says, kissing him fiercely. 

“Gods, I hope so,” he murmurs as she eases his doublet from his shoulders and greedily seeks his skin with her hands. He melts into her touch, lets the world narrow to this moment and this moment alone, enjoying the feel her hands against his skin. He is surprised at how hungry he is for more, more of her, more of her skin against his. He wants to feel her. The genuineness of the desire catches him off guard, makes him feel unsteady. 

There is nothing choreographed about the way they undress one another, sneaking kisses between discarding items of clothing. The fumbling gives way to a silliness and laughter he didn’t realize could be present in moments like this. He presses her back against the blanket of clothing they’ve made on the ground, unable to keep the smile from his lips as he kisses her deeply, tongues twining together. His cock is hard against the warmth of her stomach, and he presses his hips into her just to feel her intake of breath. 

“I want to touch you,” he says against her lips. 

She tightens her hold on him, as if she can’t get close enough. “Please.”

He reaches between them and gently parts the lips of her vulva before gently circling her entrance.  She is wet and waiting, so he slips a finger inside her, his thumb circling her clit. She moans against his lips, back arching. He adds another finger and pumps his fingers, adjusting the pace while she falls apart in his arms. He kisses down her chest and over the swell of her breast, circling her nipple with his tongue while he continues to work his fingers inside of her. 

For as difficult as Liv is to read otherwise, he has never had any issues reading her like this. Her sighs and moans, the way her body responds to him. He hooks his fingers as he circles her clit, is rewarded with a moan that sounds suspiciously like calling on the gods. 

She tightens around his fingers as she comes, her cheeks flushed, eyelashes a dark smudge against her cheeks, his name a string of broken syllables as he strokes her through her orgasm. It’s a beautiful sight to see her undone like this, unburdened by responsibility or worry, simply here with him. Her eyes are dark, slightly unfocused, and she kisses him hard, teeth and lips meeting with an urgency that is still somehow careful. 

Her hand is on his hip, fingers brushing closer to his cock, but not quite touching. He’s aching for her to touch him, to wrap her delicate fingers around him. “Yes,” he manages to ground out, his hips stuttering into hers. 

Her gentle touch is his undoing. He buries his head into her neck as her fingers wrap around him, her thumb brushing over the tip of his cock before slowly, torturously sliding along his length. He shudders at the contact, melts into the sensation. 

Against his ear he feels her lips. “I want to taste you.” 

Gods, yes. He flips them so that she can crawl down his body, kissing down his chest and his stomach as she goes. She pauses just before she reaches his cock, eyes locking on his, waiting for confirmation. His chest is heaving with breaths he doesn’t need, but feels like he’ll drown if he doesn’t. He nods, and she smiles, pressing a kiss to the tip of his cock before taking him into her mouth. 

“Fuck.” The sensation is almost too much coupled with the way she watches him, honed in on his every reaction. He has been on the receiving end of partners before, enthusiastic lovers who hoped his enjoyment might mean deeper feelings on his part. This is different, an offering, a focus on him, his pleasure. It’s something he’s allowed, so he leans his head back, letting the sensation, the pleasure wash over him without worrying about what might come next, what’s expected after. 

And it is good, so very good, until it is almost too good and he stops her with a gentle hand in her hair. “Careful, love, I’d still like to be inside you.”

Her answering smile is a smug thing, as if she is proud of the effect she’s had on him. He kisses her then, groaning as he tastes himself on her tongue. He rolls them so that she is back beneath him, and thrusts forward, his cock dragging through her wetness. They both groan, and he reaches beneath them positioning himself at her entrance, forehead pressed to hers. She cups his cheek, eyes meeting his, a silent question within them. 

She is staying so very still, and he knows it is because she wants this to be entirely his choice, entirely up to him. He could stop things here if he wanted, they could go back to the Elfsong, and there would be no consequences. She would still love him either way. He slowly, carefully presses into her. 

“Oh,” she breathes, eyes fluttering shut as he begins to move. The rhythm is slow at first, her fingers pulling him closer, as if she could eliminate all space between them. Her hips meet his every thrust as they move together at a languid pace, as if they have all the time in the world. 

He can feel the way her heart races, the rush of blood in her veins. She is so vibrant, so very alive. He kisses down her throat, and isn’t at all surprised when she twists in offering. Some part of him wonders if this should have a place her, but she’s never shied away from his true nature, all of him. So perhaps, he shouldn’t either. He tries to be as gentle as possible, as he sinks his fangs into her neck as he thrusts into her, hoping the sensations might balance. Her small gasp tells him he’s been successful. He savors the taste of her blood, the way her warmth spreads through him, her fingers in his hair. 

His hips stutter as her walls tighten around him. He knows she’s close, and he picks up his pace, sliding as deep as he can. He takes another sip of her blood before pulling back, tongue catching the excess. His face hovers over hers, breaths mingling. 

Her eyes are soft as she brushes his curls from his face. “I love you,” she says before capturing his lips in a deep kiss. She orgasms with a shudder, and he follows her over pleasure’s edge, hips stuttering to a stop as he comes. 

She’s breathing hard, sweat forming on her brow, but they stay there bodies entwined. Her nose brushes softly against his. “Feeling alright?”

But the problem has rarely been the actual act, but how he feels after. There is nothing about tonight he would change, but he finds himself still bracing subconsciously, awaiting the regret and the shame. Perhaps it will not come. He kisses the tip of her nose. “Yes.”

But she has always seen him, even when he wished she didn’t. “What do you need?” she asks, gently running her fingers through his curls. 

“I…” he pauses, wondering what it is he needs, now in this moment. This is, for him, new territory. There were not often afters in sex that didn’t include putting clothes back on immediately or other far worse endings for his lovers. “I don’t know.”

“Perhaps we just stay here for a while?” she says, the backs of her fingers brushing his cheek. 

“And here I thought you were worried about getting caught,” he says, trying to mask how out of his depth he is here. It would be very nice to stay like this, to just be held. 

She smiles. “I think you put it best when you said -”

He presses a finger against her lips. “Don’t repeat it. And if you tell anyone I said that, I will deny it. Vehemently.”

“Come here,” she says, pulling him in closer. He lays his head against her chest, where he can hear her heartbeat. She runs her fingers through his hair, nails lightly dragging against his scalp, for a long, quiet time. He focuses on her heartbeat, on her steady breathing. He waits for the wave of shame or disgust, for his mind to twist this around into something else, but it doesn’t come, instead, there is…nothing, and it is a relief. He is sure that it will not always be this way and that there will still be days and moments where he cannot bear even her touch, but tonight, tonight he has reclaimed back a piece of himself. 

“We should get you to a real bed,” he says after he notices Liv’s breathing begin to deepen, sleep making her eyes heavy. 

“I think I’d prefer not to be discovered sleeping here by some poor mourning person come to pay their respects,” she says around a yawn. 

He grins at the image as he begins gathering discarded clothing. “But it would be funny.”

“You’re terrible.”

He kneels back over her, brings his hand to her neck, and runs his thumb along her jaw. “And you love me.”

“And I love you,” she smiles against his lips. 

And this, this is real.

[itcamefrombeneaththeblog]

Why Do I Have To Be Depressed For You To Care? - A Longpost Journaling/Rant

Today marks my 120 pounds lost. From 400 to 280.

One of the things that makes this journey I'm on hard is that I'm totally alone in it. Most of my life I have gone through alone. In 30 years I've had maybe 6 people I'd call close friends. 2 of them betrayed me horrifically. The other 4, well, Like I love them. But we're adults. We all live far away and I rarely see them. One is a mom, one is married to the love of his life, and the other two are far away.

As far as lovers go? Well when you're 400 pounds they're non-existent. The idea of someone loving you seems as probable as mystical fey creatures. Especially when you have a job as fucked up and hard as caregiving for your grandparents who have alzheimers, which I did from age 21 to 29. Nobody wants to be in your life when you go through that. I don't blame them, I didn't want to be in my life then either.

So it shouldn't be hard for me now should it? I mean I'm a fuckin' professional at being alone now. Aren't I? Is anyone ever? I'm as healthy as I've been in yeeears. I've lost 120 pounds. And I'm sitting here, in a chair, listening to the wind softly blow my curtains next me. I can hear my neighbors, the squealing of tires. It's very lonely. I'd love to have someone be like, great job babe, or something like that. Just a celebratory kiss would probably make the last ten years of my life worth it.

But here I am alone. And I'm not so much sad, as I'm just hit by the realization that I did this for myself. This person I dislike so much, I transformed them, me, into this new person. And I originally did it so I would be more attractive. Such a silly reason, but that's the truth. I started out trying to make myself more desireable and in the end I seem to have found myself. This should be a grand revelation, but it isn't. I still feel empty.

I dunno. There's desperate lonliness within me. And that's not attractive, but I feel like I really hate how we as a race of beings have normalized not caring about the lonely souls like me.

I'm no incel. I'm not a poor sad sack or a woe is me lame asshole whose sad all the time. But this blog often finds me being very sad and talking only about things that are dark and depressing.

And that's because depressing has got me a bunch of views, people commenting, and so many people have seen my work. Depression sells. Isn't that...wrong? Why do I need to be depressed for you to care? Why am I only interesting to you when I'm suffering?

Did you know I've made a bunch of positive and health conscious posts? Probably not because nobody seems to give two shits about them. But the suicide poems, the poem about being SA'd as a child, poems about death and heartache, they do *really* well.

Why have we normalized sadness? Why is it cool in these artistic spaces to be so destitute emotionally? I don't know. Part of me thinks these are rhetorical questions that can't be answered satisfyingly. Part of me considers it to be in that misery loves company vein.

Is there a point to this? Well if you read this far I hope so, so you didn't feel like you wasted your time. I hope my writing is interesting to you. The point I want to make is that I lost 120 fucking pounds. That is staggering. I lost a whole person. I should be jumping for joy with friends or a lover.

But I'm not. It's like I've been programmed, brainwashed into feeling morose all the time because I don't have this or that, but also because being morose and sad gets me the attention I so desperately crave. How fucked is that? I've conditioned myself into a state of self-destruction.

So...I guess my ultimate point is that we need way more love in this culture, as cliche as that sounds. Because I think a lot of this isolationist jag our generations are on suck. And I'm as much to blame as anyone. We need a radical shift in mood, otherwise how are we, the dreamers, ever going to influence the chamge we want to see, if we're not willing to chamge ourselves?

I want what I want. I want someone to give a shit. Just one.

And holy goddamn, that one person is harder to find apparently than 120 pounds is to lose. That is profoundly painful.

[winotheredmage]

Introduction

It's now the start of Pride, the co-opted commercial celebratory period where corporations pretend they care about the queer community as more than a consumer base for A Whole Month(Thirty Days, Seven-Hundred-Twenty Hours). Company's vague impressions of solidarity is never as staunch as what's shown on the ground, by the ones living radically as themselves. I had the good fortune to see that solidarity in action today when a sizable majority of folks who attended the local dyke march migrated over to a protest for Palestinian liberation, bringing the march with them and melding numbers. Some might scoff at the notion that both struggles are linked; but as queer Palestinians bravely fight against genocide and colonial-settler violence, their rights as queer people encompass all queer people's rights: This should go without saying.

Like a river joining another, the flow and energy between the two demonstrations were strikingly similar; The air felt fearless, nurturing, exciting, and gay as all get-out. Flowing through the streets, the sound of hundred-fold footsteps was rain coming to nourish the flora of change. We shouted "dykes against genocide", "queers for Palestine", "burn israel to the ground", and there was birdsong echoing like thunder, roaring and comfortably close. There were plenty who stood by on the sidewalks, offering cheers of support, going about their day, or recording the procession with anywhere from a smile to a sinister smirk on their face. Looking at the occasional dissenters from the sidelines, it made me want to scream just a little louder. In those moments, I thought that standing on the sidelines and sitting idly by for such an issue was the last thing I want to do.

Social anxiety is a mess to deal with, and for me, more often then not, it's debilitating. Could nary get a word out at either march and stayed by my lonesome while everyone was conversing and connecting. Whether it was getting hung up on future anxieties, lingering imposter syndrome, or maybe just nothing, I found myself feeling alienated surrounded by my own peers. There were so many people I wanted to meet, so many things to talk about, so much joy to share; Yet no matter the path I went down, its destination was me feeling unworthy one way or another. There are many days where I feel this is a struggle impossible to overcome.

On those days, I look at all the other pieces, the shiny broken ones we all keep polishing: For me, they're the scripted youtube videos I never filmed, songs in storage I never released, friends who are lost in forests of notifications I never replied to. Clearly in my perspective is the enormity of the life I don't live, but want to live, should be living. When puberty, intrusive thought, and chronic pain already saps your energy and ability daily, it feels unbearable to do anything else. There's no stopping the thought that its also exacerbated by the overlapping scaffolding of oppression in place, leaving the issue feeling like a decidedly hopeless one. I think maybe there's something about a fig tree that goes here too???

There was something else I saw during the marches; Signs brought by protesters with quotes and passages from writers the world over. From prose to lyric, from poem to passage, more than ever did I see the work of writers, poets, and wordsmiths of all kinds from the revolutionaries attending. All of it left me feeling like there was something that needed to change, some inner bud in my brain about to burst and sprout. One can easily be lost in the pursuit of perfection, especially concerning artistry near and dear to one's self, and I felt like I may have been wandering for much too long. My position, however frayed and fraught, is still a privileged one that can, and must, be used for good. Many need to speak, and many need a voice, and many need to scream, many are screaming. It's about time I screamed a little louder; No more do I stand recording on the sidewalk of my life. To be on the sidelines when faced with a reality like this is the last thing I want to do.

(tl;dr I went to a dyke march/protest for palestine today; Poor social skills, anxiety over the future, and lingering depression left me feeling isolated and without purpose. There was, and is, so much experience I want to relay, so much to say; Often the aftershocks of those experiences left me unable to say it. Seeing quotes from writers on the boards of protesters inspired me to write properly about my experience, because I owe it to so many to not stay silent.)

[msmattea]

i’m at work on my breakand i can’t help but spiral about the complexities of moving this fall. life is so sacred, delicate and fragile. one great thing is that there are many beginnings, and the power of going back is just moving forward trying to not make the same mistakes again; holding back on fear's accord. is this opportunity to move a sign from god? a hint to take the jump? every time i close my eyes and envision myself moving i get almost clouded with my own anxieties, like a big sister trying to get her photo taken but the thumb of whoever is taking the photo (let it be god?) keeps getting in the way. i don’t want fear to be a reason to hold back, but more so of a reason to jump.

i texted my dad i loved him on my 15. all he said back was “hurry home.” it makes me want to go fuck myself. when i am met with thr dismissal of my compulsive burps of “i love you” i can’t help but turn back into that 5-year-old girl, doing everything in her gaze to get daddy’s validation. love from my father has always felt like work. that’s a fact, with no judgment attached. my father is more than 4 times my age, meeting us at the rip age of 60. his generation was taught the importance of being seen, rather than being heard. i understand him, and i love him unconditionally. something i was born with; this inherit need to not only be loved but constantly love him. i texted back, "i'm at work till 4:30, i already told you." hoping that the period properly showed my passiveness. his reply was "i know it's just that every minute you're away from me burns a hole in my heart." i giggled as i read this on my rush to my car through the store.

im currently home from work, i got home about three hours ago. i haven't done any homework yet, and i am still here procrastinating on getting two major assignments done for class. i am also on the toilet, contiplaiting if i should order ramen. if i should break my 24 hour fast for some celebratory and motivating veggie noodles floating in a flavorful lake of broth. ramen that i am trying to convince myself, is brain food. the only thing; the laxatives have been causing me to shit constantly all day. i wonder if i should give my stomach a break? or fuel it with good foods; steamed broccoli, vegatable broth, and tofu for protein. mmmmmmm. ahhh sounds yummy. my go to comfort meal; instantly bringing me back to the emotional release of being in 71st Street Ramen, in a corner booth with Emerson and Basil. okay then, its official i am going to order the ramen.

that makes me think of another thing, especally in my desire to regain control (by releasing control LOL funny how that works. that the balance is finding peace in the things that you can control, and submitting to what you can't) of my life; i need to regain control of my eating habits. i don't know what happened. it saddens me that i have allowed myself to let this go on for as long as it has. maybe its just being home. maybe its the depression of watching my mother slowly die. maybe its the Florida street weed intensifying my cravings to the ripest extent. maybe its the addicition to guilt or the need to shame and give myself reasons to be a bitch to myself. maybe its because i can't cope without food, mainly triggered by a 2 day fast followed by getting increasingly high with Florida street weed and cleaning the pantry from every cookie in the jar. following that, i will swallow pills - not only to help the bloat but to help pass what i just swallowed down. i think i've become addicted. not i think, i know.

one thing that has released and pushed my habit to the healtheir level, is binge eating with fruits, steamed brocalli, eggs and hit sauce, high protein bars, oatmeal, dried fruits, nuts, and usually waffles drentched in butter and warm honey (my fucking favorite high snack, fucking fuck, i can't describe how good it is other than a dance of sweet and savory - but natural, almost timeless in my devorar. its also just waffles with butter, and honey, but let me dress it up.) binging with heathlier food ; food of actual sustinance. food that gives you nutrients. foods that benfit me and my body. carrots for my eyes, chia seeds and oatmeal for fiber, etc.. food that makes you just wanna play that video from the early 2010s of that redhead kid who was on The Ellen Show, the enbodiement of that redhead kid going,theres nothing like a nice slice of pizza to recharge your batteries, but instead of pizza its this warm honey waffle, and nuts, with dried tart cherries, and brownie protein bars. the guilt is somehow ridden. i feel slightly more responsible as a parent to myself. im the mom who feeds her daughter only the best, organic bullshit. now this means im ready for the next step; no binging period. and remianing in a deficit! eating a healthy amount, at healthy times, with healthy outcomes (if you get my drift) no need for laxatives. full trust in me, and my body. in my bodies ability to regulate, and be beautiful in her performance. she's ready. im ready.

time to talk about the start of my day:

when i woke up this morning i took a bowl of weed, and dozed off half dreaming about a different time with Khalil - this time 2 years into the future; living together. again with the could'ves. i don't think its shameful to wonder if he still thinks about me, corny maybe, but not shameful. at least im not allowing myself to be ashamed of what i feel. i could just be craving a connection, a snese of unrelenting intimacy. he would be a really good distraction right now.

ill finish this entry with telling you about work and the present moment (besides the ordering of my veggie tofu ramen, the memory of my two soulmates.) other than daydreaming about Khalil, I got dressed, took my meds (b12,collagen,glutamine,spiralactone,dustersiteride-or however you fucking spell it-zinc,vitaminC,womensmultivitamine,cherryroot,tumeric,milkthistle,beefliver,and a probiotic), had a cup of black coffee accompanied by a jounral session with god and my mom, showering myself with affirmations, trying to convicne myself that i can somehow make something out of the day. i went to work.

work was work. work was busy. work is always busy on a saturday. i was bloated the whole shift, from my binge the night prior or maybe the irritation of the laxatives, and my feet kept blistering from the fresh pair of mary jane flats i impuslivly purchased and wore today. i thought that they looked cute with my baggy jeans. beauty is pain, pretend im eye rolling. no actually don't pretend, know for a fact that i am eye rolling. i don't think beauty is motherfucking pain, mainly because i feel my most beautful self when i am the most unresticted, unbound by the idea of what my beauty should be measured by; pain. beauty is feeling unbound in a flowing linen dress. beauty is the dance of my hair, the daily movement she offers around me. let me not get distracted. okay work. well work was work, like i said. i did my usual; shelved books, answered phones, looked for cute coustmers to help, and of course took my breaks. i never forget a break, especially if they pay us for it. thank you, thank you, thank you. i then got a large three shot americano from the cafe, in hopes to pass whatever is left in my bowels for my ride home. i drank half and might save the rest for tomorrow morning. something tells me that i will be up very late maybe even into the morning trying to get my homeowork done. ill start after the ramen which should be here any minute. currently, however, im debating whether or not the ramen im about to fuel on is going to help aid or hinder that process. regardless, im optimistic that the nutirion and protien will help bring back the life in my face. i trust my bodies ability to metabolise fast, and regulate itself. i release the worry of food hurting me!!!! im gooing to go eat.

xx

mattea

[jacksgreysays]

(REPOST) Anon's Ask Box Advent Calendar Prompt: Grass Chuunin Exams in Down Every Road

(I FUCKED UP. I ACCIDENTALLY DELETED THE ORIGINAL ASK POST AND I DON'T KNOW HOW TO GET IT BACK. BUT AT LEAST I STILL HAVE THE TEXT OF IT? AHHHHH)

Anonymous asked: Grass Chunin Exams in Road One? Man oh man, to say Sasuke (and the rest of the Uchiha clan) did not take Shikako’s kidnapping attempt well would be understatement of the century.

Yoooo anon, I don’t know if you are the same anon from many many moons ago (ie 2016) but apparently my inability to write a Down Every Road!Sasuke reacting to the Grass Chuunin Exams has been ongoing. Like. I think this is the third prompt for it. Which means I’m going to have to face my fear(?) and go for it O_O

I had to do a quick reread of the later chapters of the Grass Chuunin Exams because while it will always live in my head and heart rent free I didn’t suuuper remember what Sasuke was up to during them. (To be ENTIRELY HONEST, the GCE is why I first even started writing DoS recursive fic and it was because my Shikaara feels were overflowing, so it was really hard to make myself focus on Sasuke, lol sorry) But I was surprised to see that he is specifically mentioned and with dialogue often and significantly enough that I have something to work with?

—

Sasuke should have been there. He should have been with her.

Why wasn’t he there? Why didn’t he go with her?

Because he wasn’t interested in the festival? Because he wanted to conserve his strength for his match the next day? Because he didn’t want to put up with Kiba and Ino’s commentary on every interaction he had with Shikako?

Or maybe he should have convinced her to stay, to rest. He knew she was exhausted, knew she had run through all her tricks, used up all of her chakra—thrice! Two soldier pills and still running on empty at the end—if he had asked her to stay in, maybe she wouldn’t have felt pressured to go.

… but why did she go in the first place? Yes, Shikako is fond of festivals, and the chuunin exams in minor villages tend to be more celebratory than cutthroat, but she was clearly weakened after her match with Gaara. She’s usually more paranoid than this. She was definitely more paranoid during the Konoha exams and that should have been safer given the home advantage.

(But can it be called paranoia if she was right about it?)

So why was she so careless this time around in literal enemy territory? (Or, maybe, the question is: why is she more paranoid in her home village?)

He should have seen the signs. He should have covered her back. That’s what teammates (and future spouses!) do. And because he wasn’t there, because he didn’t tell her to stay, he has to live with the sight of her, barely conscious, singed, covered in dirt and vomit, propped between Kiba and Ino. He has to watch other people defend her, comfort her, because he’s too busy trying to catch up in the what happened rather than focus on solutions.

As he sits next to the mountain of blankets that is her sleeping form—an unofficial guard along with the rest of their retinue—he has to wrestle with aimless regret, futile anger, and a growing sense of inadequacy.

And then the next day he loses to Gaara.

Of course he loses to Gaara. If Shikako couldn’t win against Gaara using everything she had—which is certainly more than everything he has—then it’s logical that he wouldn’t win either.

But it still burns, a little, because some part of him hoped…

… because he couldn’t protect her—the past is past—but he thought, maybe, he could bring a victory back to her. A small consolation prize, to be sure, but anything to make her smile just a little bit.

And he couldn’t even do that.

He couldn’t even win (or lose?) at cards to be the one to carry her home.

And then! Kakashi-sensei comes back and pretty much confirms that they can’t do anything. Absolute bullshit about different Grass factions, the political ramifications of Shikako outmaneuvering the Kantokusha’s jutsu—as if she didn’t outmaneuver more intricate and impressive technics all the time—and how, unless they wanted to start another world war, their hands were tied.

Now that burns. Worse than a flubbed Grand Fireball, worse than his early attempts at learning the Chidori.

Because he couldn’t be her protection and he couldn’t bring her victory and now he can’t even get vengeance for her.

He has to do better, he has to be better: his brand new chuunin vest is a vow.

—

A/N: Ahhh, I’m so sorry anon, this was a struggle—primarily my ongoing writer’s block, but also me circling around and rereading DoS led me to reading some recursive fic that I had missed over and then I was just… reading recursive fic and not writing at all. Which is a mood.

I also realized that there isn’t much different between a Road One GCE and a canon GCE except Sasuke gets to internally think “My (future) wife!” heart eyes whenever she does something cool? But given the tone of the ficlet, it was not conducive to “My (future) wife!” heart eyes so… whoops.

Anyway, I did try to think about other Uchiha’s reactions which are under the cut.

Ask Box Advent Calendar 2022

The problem is that one of my favorite parts about Road One of Down Every Road is that the Uchiha clan are still alive and not evil which means Itachi and Shisui are there to tease Sasuke, but I couldn’t really come up for a reason why they’d be at the GCE. Because, okay, the mentioned jounin who accompanied Tsunade all have students competing which neither Itachi nor Shisui have. I also vaguely headcanon that a non-kin-slaying/pushed-to-the-point-of-breaking Itachi would be in line for Hokage and thus one of Tsunade’s apprentices (either officially or unofficially) which means that BOTH of them wouldn’t be going to the GCE and it’s pretty important for Tsunade to be there. (Like, not just because she does revive Shikako from near death yet again, but because if all the other Kage are there it would be a huge snub if she sends her heir)

So okay no Itachi. Not that big of a deal, my (and the fandom’s) favorite is Shisui anyway. And, okay, ANBU guard would be an easy way out buuuuuuuuuuuuut it would be cool if he was there as like… a rich client’s bodyguard. But then I realize… like… as much as I would love that, he wouldn’t really be able to act without being unprofessional, so he wouldn’t be changing anything plotwise which means to bring him in would be to just get his reactions which then detracts from Sasuke’s very understandable reactions so I decided to go with just Sasuke…

But I do love the idea of Shisui just running the most scathing PR campaign against Grass in general amongst all the other ninja as well as all the wealthy clients. Like really overselling the official line of “if they can’t even keep infiltrators out, why would you ever trust them with your missions” etc etc And low key bringing up how easily/boringly Shikako took out the Muku, like that’s the pride of Grass? Pathetic.

And author’s notes continue to be as long/longer than the ficlet. Whoops

[spinningbuster98]

So...now that the initial hype (and bewilderment?) for the trailer has largely subsided I would like to give my own personal thoughts on Sonic X Shadow Generations

I'm not happy

In fact after the initial feeling of "holy shit they're actually doing this!?" wore off I got pretty goddamn furious if I'm gonna be honest

Putting aside the fact that I am not the biggest fan of Shadow's game, in fact I can quite comfortably say that I hate it, a sentiment that I confirmed for myself after replaying it for a marathon roughly 2 years ago, so much so that, if it weren't for 06 and Secret Rings existing (and maybe Chronicles as well), it would quite easily be the worst Sonic game to me.

Putting aside also the fact that it is very likely to be written by Mr Ian-I can't work with these Shadow mandates man!-Flynn, whose track record on not only the IDW comic but also Frontiers leaves... quite a lot to be desired, especially when referencing past games is concerned

Putting, once again, aside the fact that what little level design we've seen in the trailer seems to be roughly on the same level as Forces', which should make it at least a tiny bit more inspired than Frontiers' though that's not inspiring much confidence in ME

...why?

Really: why?

Why celebrate Shadow The Hedgehog of all games?

Generations is a celebratory game, a game that, very optimistically, looks back on Sonic's story, both the highlights and yes, even the lowlights, which is why Crisis City was included

However it's one thing to include a level from an infamous game that ruined your reputation as part of your historical celebration while also making it far better than how it was in its original iteration

It's another thing to create a whole seperate story campaign dedicated to revisiting one of the most embarassing entries of Sonic's history, one of the titles that is most responsible for Sonic's reputation going down the drain over the years. And no: I'm not claiming that Shadow's game is the biggest culprit, even before its release Heroes was getting a lot of flack, and as early as the mid 90s, after S3K's release, people were starting to dunk on Sonic a bit. But I think we can all agree that it's when Shadow first appeared with a gun in his hand while cursing like an edgy teen that people collectively agreed that Sonic was now washed out and unsalvageable.

And you know I don't wanna act like this thing is doomed before it's out: it is technically possible that they can deliver something decent both gameplay and writing wise and if they do then I'll eat my own hat and praise it like it deserves!

But I am very doubtful about this, given Sega's quite frankly abysmal recent track record with this stuff, especially in light of Frontiers

And I know: it's just an extra mode bundled with a preexisting good game. Why are you bitching so much?

I'm bitching because this is but a symptom of a larger issue that's been going on for over a decade now, which is Sonic as a series being absolutely dependent on revisiting its past in often half assed ways in an attempt to pander to nostalgic fans rather than, y'know, genuinely and fully moving forward! The actual attitude hasn't really changed in 10 years, it's just that now instead of pandering to the classic elitists they're pandering to the Adventure fans, who will gladly eat this up despite whining for years about nostalgia pandering themselves because all their rhetoric during the past decade was mostly bullshit that can be summed up as "Yeah but they're not pandering to the REAL Sonic aka the one I grew up with!"

There's a part of me that would almost like to praise Sega for "taking it on the chin" so to speak, for wanting to take their chances by revisiting an old, hated game and doing something potentially good with it

But let's be perfectly clear here: Sega's not digging up Shadow's game or SA2 for that matter because they want to redeem them or anything, there are only 3 reasons why they're making this

For the aforementioned Adventure-era pandering, Sega have no doubt noticed that the kids who played Shth back in 2005 have now grown up and love it, while the older fans who bashed it have now largely left the fandom so this game is now free to be used as nostalgia bait

It's Shadow and not only is he so popular that everything with his name attatched to it is bound to sell but his playstyle is 90% Sonic's anyway, so they'll mostly just have to make new animations for him

Sonic Movie 3 is coming and they obviously want to capitalize on it. This game is very clearly for newer fans to serve as a "who this guy is and what his deal is" history lesson

The last 2 reasons are especially obvious because honestly, if they're so adamant on pandering to the Adventure Era nostalgia, then why don't they draw from other, better and more deserving sources?

Why not recreate levels from SA1 and 2 or even Heroes? You can even recreate story scenes from them if you truly want, it would still be pandering but at least stuff like Tails and Amy's character arcs in SA1 are far better written and more respectful to their characters than anything from Shadow's game is towards its own protagonist! Hell why not do something TRULY cool, something that is ACTUALLY unthrodden ground and maybe give us for the very first time 3D versions of levels from the Advance series? Cyber Base and Chaos Angel in 3D anyone? Or maybe the Rush games? With a playable Blaze for the first time since forever? I mean Shadow already had his own DLC episode in Forces and it was pretty ok, why not give someone else their own Episode?

Look: if you like Shadow's game and you like what you see? Good for you, I honestly, genuinely hope that you have a good time

But as for me? A (former?) Sonic fan who hasn't enjoyed anything Sonic related to come out of this entire franchise since 2013 (with the semi exception of Mania and maybe Superstars though I still haven't gotten around to playing it), and who's been extremely cynical of Sega and Sonic Team's way of handling this series? This is just the latest in a long list of nails in the coffin

[bobmckenzie]

Almost Midnight

word count: 1514

blurb: Danny takes the New Years opportunity to give Caitie a first-kiss do-over

tw: mention of non-consensual/unwanted kiss

Danny steps outside, leaving the door to the porch open a crack and the sounds of the party behind. Finally, he thinks with a smile and a sigh, gaze landing on the brunette leaning against the railing. The past fifteen minutes he'd been weaving through his brother's crowded house looking for Cait, getting pulled into small talk about the new year and the football team's upcoming game when all he really wanted was to find her.

"There you are," he says, approaching as she turns to him, her lips curving into a smile.

"Hi." She rubs the arms of her jacket, breath coming out in a puff of white smoke. "Is it almost midnight?"

He nods. "A few minutes. You okay? Becky and I were wondering where you went."

She waves a hand. "I'm fine, yeah. Just needed some air. We should go in if you want to see the ball drop."

He shrugs and meets her at the railing. "I kind of needed some air myself, actually. I, uh… think Becky's about to have her first kiss."

Caitie's eyes widen. "Really? With Junior?"

Danny nods. "He's a good kid. But if I don't stay out here," he laughs, "I'll find some way inside to stop it from happening, probably end up embarrassing Becky and making an idiot out of myself."

She gives him one of those soft smiles that always make him feel like he's just said exactly the right thing. "You're a great dad, Danny." She lets out a short laugh, looking away. "I know I say that a lot, but it's true."

And yet the compliment never fails to give him a surge of confidence and a flushed face. "Well, I know how important this is. She'll remember it for the rest of her life, and I'd rather it be a positive memory than one I have to beg for forgiveness over."

"Do you remember yours?"

"Hmm? Oh—" He laughs, nodding as he realizes what she means. "I was in third grade. A few of the girls were playing truth or dare, and one of 'em got dared to come over and kiss me. It wasn't great for my self-esteem, I can tell you that much. What about you?"

"It…" She shakes her head. "Yeah. I mean, it happened two months ago, so..." At his look of confusion, she continues, "It was just one of the guys who picked me up when I was hitching—a few days before I ended up here, actually. Some truck driver. He sort of… Well, he really just leaned over, grabbed me by the face, and slobbered all over me for a few seconds before I managed to push him off and get out of there." She laughs, shrugging, smile faltering when she notices he can't force himself to find anything amusing in the story.

"Were you alright?"

The genuine concern sends a pang of longing through her. What must it be like to have a man like Danny always by your side, with so much care in every action, so much tenderness in his words and in his eyes? She can imagine no safer feeling, and absolutely nothing she'd ever wanted more.

"I was fine," is all she can manage to say, too distracted by his proximity and the realization that they're talking about kisses. Her first one was something she'd been dreaming of her whole life, and now it'd been taken away by someone who thought she owed him it for helping her get from one state to the next.

These days when she thought of kisses, it was only Danny who came to mind. Daydreams of sleepy kisses in the morning, quick afternoon pecks while cooking dinner. Celebratory smooches after Becky's team won a game, and long, slow kisses once they were alone in the night. She tries so hard not to think about things like that, tries not to make being around him so difficult for herself. But every day she falls deeper in love with the man before her, and the daydreams come whether she wants them to or not.

Danny shakes his head. God, he hates thinking about what she went through on the road. He'll never let her back out there—maybe it's a pigheaded way of thinking, but he can't help it. If she still wants to go to Montana, he'll take her there, but he won't let her put herself in that kind of danger again.

Not as long as he can help it, anyway, he thinks with a painful stab to the heart. If she leaves, there's no way to look out for her. No way to know she's alright.

He wants her to stay so badly… the possibility of her leaving constantly looms overhead, hurts him so much he's not sure how he'd ever handle the real thing. The idea of a future with her won't leave him alone. What would she think if she knew how much he wants her? How he can picture rings, a wedding… waking up to her every morning. Building a life where Becky has a mother who loves her and he has a wife to come home to every day. A family of three instead of two.

She's already said she likes Urbania. That Montana was just a dart on a map. That the two of them make a good team. But could she ever see him the way he sees her? Beautiful, comforting… a person who feels like home and the drop of a roller-coaster all at the same time.

"That's hardly a fair way to have a first kiss," he replies, voice gentle, though it's hard to hide the hatred for the man he'll never know. "It doesn't count."

She lets out a short, humorless laugh. "It may as well." Behind them, the sounds of the ten second countdown travel outside through the cracked door. "It's probably the only one I'm ever going to get."

Seven, six…

He doesn't understand how she can be so insecure, so unaware of the beauty that floors him every day. It isn't fair for her to think that way, isn't right for her to live thinking the only man who'd want to kiss her was some asshole who thought he earned it.

Five, four…

He inches closer, gaze traversing over her face, and her heart skips a beat. She thinks she imagined it at first—then he steps forward again and she knows she didn't. Her breath catches.

Three, two…

Slowly, giving her all the time in the world to back away, he reaches a hand up to cup her face. His hand feels so warm against her cheek, skin rough and calloused from work, yet his touch is so gentle.

One…

He angles up, slightly onto his toes, close enough to brush noses. When his thumb strokes her cheek her eyes flutter shut, lips parting ever so slightly.

Happy new year!

He closes the gap with a sigh, just barely pressing his lips against hers, the ghost of a touch. As cheers incite from inside the house he steps a little closer, kisses just a little firmer. It's innocent, polite even, a kiss that could easily be brushed off as nothing more than friendly. And yet it has his heart pounding, has her blood running hot.

This is the way her first kiss should be, he thinks. Gentle. Slow. Just as delicate and precious as she is.

It's everything she dreamed of, has her stomach flipping, butterflies swarming inside her, fists balling at her sides so she doesn't reach out and lace her fingers in his hair or grab a fistful of his sweater.

He forces himself to pull back, to not get carried away, to not take it somewhere he can't come back from.

It takes a second for her to open her eyes, dark brown meeting dark blue, a second of silence passing between them, the sounds of the party long forgotten.

A firework boom in the distance makes her gasp, both flinching away, heads turning just in time to see the gold sparks go off in the distance, quickly followed by blue and green. Then the French doors squeak open and draw their attention back to the house, where a few members of the football team come bounding out, raving about the fireworks they're sure they just heard.

As more guests pour out of the house the porch changes from a bubble of solitude into a crowded extension of the party, surrounding the pair with loud laughter and clinking glasses, music seeping out from the open doors.

There's no time to talk about it, no time to let it sink in and wonder what it means. Each thinks it was just a friendly kiss to the other, and each wishes it was so much more.

"Happy New Year," Danny says to her with a soft smile, just barely loud enough to be heard over the oohs and ahhs of the crowd as they watch the fireworks.

"Happy New Year," she returns breathlessly, wondering if he knows he just made it the best night of her life.

[codythecheshirecat]

I Think I've Been Interacting With Myself Differently Lately CH 8

AO3

Cody's stubbornness reappears. He and Rex have a talk where nothing is communicated.

Bored on his lunch break, Cody taps through various files on his datapad. There are three reminders for the month, a handful of photos and videos sent to him by brothers and friends who thought he’d appreciate them (some are comedic, some are serious, and he’s kept them all whether he liked them or not because he appreciates the thought), and-

His notes from Gregor’s class. He bites the inside of his cheek– an annoying, new habit that he can’t break- and opens the file. He stares at his notes for Deadnaming. He’s memorized the words, but reads them anyway.

And then he turns his attention to the topics he has yet to continue researching– Gender Identity, Transgender, and Sexual Orientation. He’s not sure why he hasn’t researched them more. He’s had plenty of time to do so. And, honestly, these concepts aren’t foreign– Kamino hadn’t exactly prepared them for the wider galaxy in any way other than for war, but Cody has been around. He’s paid attention. He’s learned. 

So he can’t really explain why it’s easier to throw himself out of a gunship during open fire than it is to search those terms again.

People who don't experience any sexual attraction for anyone often call themselves asexual.

Clearly there’s more than one definition for the term asexual, considering this is a very different usage than asexual reproduction. Why use the same term? Because there’s no sexual partner? Surely it must get confusing.

Transgender is an umbrella term for individuals whose gender identity, gender expression or behavior does not conform to that typically associated with the sex to which they were assigned at birth.

Cody can honestly say that he’s never put enough thought into his own gender to even think this might be a possibility. The Kaminoans had told them they were clones, and that was that. Nothing more to think about.

And now there are things like taxes and gender to think about, Cody thinks, rolling his eyes internally. People honestly think about this?

How much thought did Rex put into realizing he was attracted to Senator Organa? About Queen Organa? Did he think about it at all?

Actually, here’s a new thought: is Cody supposed to be thinking about that all?

Am I the odd one out?

“You look like you want to kill that thing,” Sen says, sliding into the chair beside him. “You alright?”

Cody turns the datapad off. “I’m fine,” he says. “Although, I’d appreciate a distraction.”

Her lips twitch into a grin. “Anything in particular?”

“Anything.”

She pulls a datapad from her pocket. “Alright, so we’re trying to find something to do with you for your birthday. Marsi thinks we should be sneaky about it and make it a surprise, and Fi is insistent that mini golfing is the best activity.”

“And you disagree with both of them?” cody guesses.

“Not really, they both have good points. I definitely think we should do something you’ve never done before, though. You ever been to a concert?”

Have I ever been to a concert? “I was present for a handful of celebratory events that involved music,” Cody says. “Other than that, no.”

“No, then. Well, I’ve been looking at concerts happening around your birthday here on Coruscant.”

Cody tilts his head. “Anything I’ve heard of?”

“Let’s see. Poor Man’s Poison?”

“No.”

“Lovejoy?”

Cody shakes his head.

“Hey Violet?”

“Maybe?”

“Probably not,” Sen says, eyeing the datapad. “Have you heard of Taylor Swift?”

“I don’t live under a rock, Sen,” Cody says. “I know Taylor Swift.”

“Would you go to one of her concerts?”

“I wasn’t made to deal with that crowd,” Cody says.

“What about Snail Mail?”

Cody is suddenly transported back to the Negotiator, where he’d borne witness to the tail end of a conversation about what the world would be like if they were all snails. “No snails, please.”

Sen puts her datapad on the table. “Well, that was all of them.”

Cody stares at the datapad, where ‘Ghost’ is clearly written underneath Snail Mail. “What’s Ghost?”

Sen snorts. “Ghost is my favorite band, and definitely not your speed, Cody.”

“Ghost company.”

“That’s great, and I still think it’s not your speed.” Sen shakes her head. “Trust me, you’d fit in better with the Swifties.”

“Skywalker would fit in with the Swifties,” Cody says. “I’ve made up my mind. Tell the others we’re seeing Ghost in concert.”

“It’s a terrible idea to do that.”

“Your insistence is only making me more stubborn.” Cody tilts his head. “I was supposed to be a Captain, you know. Alpha-17 was supposed to train me as a Captain. Commander happened because I didn’t take no for an answer.”

They have a stare off. Cody has two minutes until he has to clock back in for lunch. After a moment, Sen sighs.

“Alright, your funeral. I’ll tell the others it’s your deepest wish to go see Ghost in concert. You want a heads up of what their concerts are like?”

“Is it anything like the battlefield?”

“I can’t imagine that it is.”

“Then I’ll be fine,” Cody stands, tilting his head like a polite bow. “Enjoy your break, Sen.”

Rex breaks into his apartment and makes himself caf. Cody watches him, not saying a word, knowing that Rex knows he’s there and that this is an intricate ritual that they must take part in and that neither of them fully understand.

This is what it’s like having brothers, as Cody understands it.

Rex has brought with him an Orchid plant. He sets it on Cody’s counter, and Cody eyes the handwritten note attached– all he can see from this distance is Fox’s signature.

Finally, Rex situates himself on the opposite end of Cody’s couch and stares at him.

Cody deems it time to talk. “Rex.”

“Cody,” Rex says. “Fox made me bring that Orchid.”

“I figured,” Cody says. “Rex, how did you know you were interested in the Organas?”

Rex blinks at him like a fish out of water. Cody waits patiently for him to get his mind back together. “What?”

“How did you know you were interested in the Organas?” Cody repeats. “What was the thought process?”

Rex gives him a curious look. “There wasn’t a thought process.”

Well, that doesn’t make sense. “You have to have thought about it.”

“It’s more of a feeling,” Rex says. “Like when you’re on the battlefield, and you’re acting on instinct more than conscious thought.”

“You have to have thought it through.”

“Whether or not I wanted to act on it, sure. Not the attraction itself.”

Cody stares at him. “Is that not the same?”

“No,” Rex says slowly, making his thinking face. “What’s another metaphor? It’s like facial expression and verbal communication.”

“I’m not following,” Cody says, frowning hard. “How are they like attraction?”

“Cody, what’s this about?” Rex asks. He sets his cup of caf on the floor. “Is everything alright?”

Like when you’re on the battlefield, and you’re acting on instinct more than conscious thought. It’s like facial expression and verbal communication. “Do you not think about your facial expressions?”

“...Only when I might have to disguise the expressions on my face,” Rex says. “Are you saying you do?”

“I think we might be looking at the same thing from different angles,” Cody says. He bites his cheek again. “Different words, same thing. Forget about it.”

“If you’re sure,” Rex says. “Did you still want to talk about Bail and Breha..?”

“No,” Cody says. “Forget about that, too. Do you have birthday plans?”

[thinkaboutmeff7au]

flash time 112

(1992.)

This church isn’t like the one back home, but it’s just as run-down. Mid-afternoon on a Thursday means there’s barely anyone here, but I can see a few people gathering in the pews. These doors are always open...something I found out when I had to drag Gen somewhere after his 3rd class celebratory bender.

There’s a confessional booth, but it doesn’t look like it’s being manned. I don’t care. I shut the door behind me and sit with a sigh.

“Sorry, I...” I start. “It’s okay. I don’t care if no one hears it, I just...”

I stare at the scuffed wood in front of me, wonder how many others have sat where I have. Confessed any amount of...well, anything.

I clear my throat again. “My best friend and I, we’ve been together like glue since we were in high school. We’ve been through a lot of sh--I mean, crap together...” Better not swear in front of the priest. Or God. Or whoever. “And like...he’s one of the only friends I’ve got.

“Now though...well, we’re both, er, we’re both in SOLDIER, and he’s got someone new he’s really...really fond of. It’s not like a girlfriend or something. He doesn’t date girls.” My heart stops. “F-forget I said that. He’s just eccentric. And there’s someone new in his life, and they spend all their time together now. They’re on missions together, they hang out together...”

I sigh. “I just wish we could hang out like we used to again.”

The truth is, I’m jealous. I know Gen was obsessed with me too, in a way that wasn’t healthy at all. Especially when he kept trying to make a move on me when I told him no. So him having someone else to put that...energy towards should be a good thing in theory.

But we’re still friends. He’s still my best friend. So why--

“Wow, that’s sad--”

“Ahh!” I yelp, jerking back and shaking the booth. It’s a young girl’s voice from the other side of the wooden mesh. What the hell?! Someone was actually listening?!

She pulls it open with her chin in both hands. “Sorry Mister SOLDIER, I didn’t mean to scare you,” she says.

She has bushy brown hair with huge green eyes. She can’t be more than...well, she’s probably older than she looks. At least in high school herself.

“Sure, well...” I didn’t really want to put a face to this, let alone some random girl... “I’m gonna get going then...”

“Hey, wait! Maybe I can help!” she says, waving one hand. “Like, uh...what did you guys used to do together in school? To hang out?”

“Well, we were in jazz band together...”

“Maybe you can start doing that again!” She becomes animated. “Ooh, what instrument do you play?”

I don’t think she’s trying to come onto me. It’s happened to me before--especially with teenage girls. No, I think she’s genuinely excited. “I play drums. My friend plays bass.”

“See! Easy. You just start a band!” She is quite proud of herself. “Problem solved!”

I can’t help but laugh...what a strange kid. Still, it isn’t a bad idea. Gen always talked about getting a band together. Didn’t he say Seph played guitar? Wonder if he would be willing...

That way the three of us could hang out, without it being a work thing. I’ll never forget our tour with the three of us...but who knows when that’ll happen again.

I turn toward her with a nod. “You know what? You might be right,” I say. “If anyone asks for me, I wasn’t here.”

“Sure thing! But I don’t even know your name.”

“All the better.”

I step out, stretching a bit--those booths are so cramped. They’re not made for Banora men. To my surprise, the girl comes out too, running over. She’s wearing overalls and a pink t-shirt, her transparent pink jelly sandals squeaking with every step.

“Hey, one more thing,” she says. “Do you know those guys in the suits?”

“You mean the Turks?”

“Yeah. There’s a guy with red hair I keep seeing hanging around. Can you tell him to leave me alone? I can take care of myself!”

Oh God, is this girl under Turk surveillance? I don’t need to get wrapped up in that. Time to go. I’m 99% sure she’s talking about Reno, though, so... “I’ll pass on the message,” I say.

(A.H.)

epilogue:

(1997.)

He’s eating today, so that’s good. Zack is still out of the loop, but Genesis is over every evening. I feel like I need to keep an eye on him for Zack’s sake...in exchange for keeping him in the dark.

“Hey, you know something,” Angeal says suddenly, his voice croaking. He clears his throat before he continues. “I just remembered...you and I had a run in before, a few years ago, before you and Zack got together.”

I blink. “Huh?”

“You were here at the church, and I was...” He smiles and shakes his head. “I was getting some shit off my chest about Gen. My mom had died, so I didn’t have anyone else to talk to about it. So I came here. And there you were.”

I roll through my memory. Here at the church...so it would’ve had to have been after Mom disappeared, after I was on the street...I snap my fingers. “Oh! Oh yeah! Mister SOLDIER!”

His smile is warm. “Thanks for that, by the way. Your little idea was pretty brilliant. It brought us together.”

“God, I barely remember that. I was going through a lot myself,” I reply. It was after I started living at the church, and only just getting used to three meals a day again.

“We all were,” he says. “Everyone is, all the time.”

His smile fades, and mine does too. Strange how these things work out.

(A.G.)