#me fooling myself every month into thinking “it's not bad enough for something to be wrong with me”

[queer-crusader]

It's that time of the month where I go "hmm meds mask how bad the horrors are so let's put off taking them to see if the horrors ARE actually horrors and I'm not needlessly taking medication". Only for the Horrors™ to kick in and me suffering BAD pain for an hour before the belatedly taken meds kick in

[sunshine-theseus]

Fools | Kyra Cooney-Cross x ND!Reader

Words: 4.3k

Summary: no one understood your mind, until you met Kyra.

Notes: Guys I have no knowledge of how Emirates is laid out, how meeting players off the pitch works etc, so I’m completely making this shit up I’m sorry. also sorry for the super long introduction, and the shit writing, I haven’t written in months.

Warnings: mentions of abuse - not proofread. i'm so sorry if this is so shit i genuinely haven't written in months. i wanted this one to be good so bad but i just don't think it is

the person who requested this has since deactivated so i actually feel so bad that i didn't get this out while they were on here. i'm genuinely so sorry for the past like 6 months.

I always struggled with social interactions. I didn’t understand it for a long time, why I always had to smile and hug people, why I had to lie about certain things like how I thought my aunt’s bright green hat looked, why I couldn’t ramble about Star Wars or the new penguin facts I just learned.

Then there were the sounds, and lights and the way things felt. Everything had to be specific, or I couldn’t focus. Sometimes if it was bad enough that I would have a breakdown, unable to do anything. My parents tried to scold it out of me when as a kid I couldn’t eat certain foods or wear the clothes they wanted. Sometimes if they deemed it worthy, I’d be met with the flesh of a palm against my cheek or bottom.

-

When I was 12, I presented the idea that maybe I was autistic to my parents. I’d researched it at school for a social emotional learning class we had to take, and I couldn’t help but notice the similarities I found within myself. If I think about it hard enough, I can feel every burning outline of the dark red hand marks that bloomed on my skin hours after the interaction, and the burning of my eyes as my stomach rumbled, drowned out by the music rumbling through my headphones.

-

At 17 I emancipated from my parents and moved to North Watford, renting out a small studio apartment above a record shop. I completed my final year of high school, working part time in the store, building a much-desired routine. The man that owned the shop and my apartment, and his young daughter, were migrants from Cuba, and more than happy to accommodate to my needs. They even chipped in to help me pay for my autism screening after I graduated high school.

I think they were the first people I willingly hugged ever.

I stopped masking when I moved, so the daughter, Elena; 5, took a few months to understand why I didn’t like touch or loud noises and why I didn’t understand some of the jokes she said that others usually laughed at. Not that I’d had the diagnosis at that time, but she was happy to just spend time with me. Every afternoon when I came back from school and started my shift, she’d beg me for more penguin facts, asking which was my favourite penguin. In return she’d spend the 2-hour shift drawing me something, usually a penguin, to pin on my corkboard at home.

I’d then help with her homework while Camilo closed shop and posted any online orders. It was a routine I cherished deeply.

-

Now, 3 and a bit years later at 21 years old, they managed to drag me to a football game. Equipped with headphones and a couple small sensory toys, as well as a hoodie under the “Miedema” jersey, the material of which originally had me tugging and prying the shirt away from my skin.

Elena and Camilo had been big fans of Arsenal for as long as I’d known them, going to every home game, begging me to join them every week without fail. I finally caved during a break in my uni courses, with nothing to do and Elena’s birthday falling on the day of a game, there was no other choice.

The newly 9-year-old basically imploded when she saw my printed ticket stub, tucked tightly into her birthday card. I gently ruffled her hair, which had become my version of hugging her, and showed her the 3 matching red and white #11 jerseys I purchased not long ago. She’d talked a lot about this Vivianne Miedema and how she wanted to be just like her when she grew up, but she’d never gotten a jersey, or seats on the bottom tier. Today was the day.

~

“Come ooonnn I want to get to our seats!” the pinky of her left hand links with my right one as her other hand is holding her dad’s, and she’s dragging us down the lane toward the entrance.

“Slow down Pollito! We have 20 more minutes until we need to be seated.” My special schedule for the day runs through my head as I check my watch. Plenty of time as long as the crowd keeps flowing.

“I wish you didn’t learn Spanish. It’s such a silly nickname.”

“But you’re my little chicken.” I send a joking frown her way and she replies with a toothless grin.

With the abrupt end to the conversation, we arrive at the gate. Showing the stewardess our tickets to be scanned, we then head toward our seats. As Camilo and I take our seats at the very front, instead of make way to their usual seats a tier up, Elena stops and looks back and forth between us.

“There’s no way you got us these seats.” Without a word I pull the girl in between us and she begins to ramble about how excited she is to be able to see the game so close, still able to be clearly heard through my headphones I manage to slip over my ears.

~

The game is drawn 1-1 just after half time, but Arsenal is close to having the upper hand. From across the pitch, Elena spots the tall and lanky number 11, Vivianne Miedema, pulling off her fluoro yellow bib and warm up shirt and lining up next to number 32 behind the fourth official who is prepping her sign. With a couple of whacks to my arm and an aggressive point of her finger, Elena makes me and Camilo very aware of the impending entrance of her favourite player, and another really attractive girl who is very obviously wearing her socks on the wrong feet. The thought makes me squirm but a shot on goal quickly manages to take my focus.

“Who’s the one coming on with Viv? You’ve never told me about number 32.” It’s hard to take my eyes off the girl as she jumps from one foot to the other, anticipating her entrance.

“Oh that’s Kyra Cooney-Cross! She’s Australian, she transferred at the start of the season. Jonas should play her more.” I acknowledge her words with a hum and a nod before we join in cheering Viv and Kyra on.

My eyes are glued to Kyra the rest of the game. Without any knowledge of how football works, I’m left to assume she’s good with the way she dances around players and passes the ball. It was weird, but her movement was so free flowing it would not be atrocious to confuse her with a ballerina. Elegant and calculated, no hesitation.

~

“Where are we going?” my pinky is once again linked with Elena’s as I drag her and Camilo through Emirates.

“Papa where is she going? The exit is that way.”

“I have no clue chica, but I suppose we should trust her aye?” with that, the father-daughter duo track behind me.

Eventually I stop just where the opening of the tunnel leads out on to the pitch and show a lady the pass I’d been carrying around all day. She smiles and begins walking down the tunnel, waving behind her as a sign for us to follow.

“What’s going on?” Elena asks once again, but I just follow the lady onto the pitch, where multiple members of the Arsenal squad are now loitering around, obviously waiting for something, or someone. At the front of the group is Viv, and when she spots the small girl behind me her eyes light up.

“Hi! You must be Elena. We’ve heard a lot about you!” she sends the girl a smile, but Elena doesn’t make any move to continue the conversation. My head whips to her and I nearly have to laugh from how adorable she is. Her jaw has dropped open and her eyes are welling up with tears, so I ruffle her hair and bend down to her height, removing my headphones.

“What’s up buttercup?” I lightly tap her head.

“That’s really her.” she whispers to me, her eyes not leaving the Dutch woman, who lets out a chuckle.

“Yes it is.”

“How?” I tap the side of my nose at her question indicating it’s to be left a secret.

“Can I have a hug?” Viv kneels on one knee and opens her arms and Elena suddenly breaks lose from her trance and runs up to her hero.

“It’s nice to meet you liefje, I hear you’ve been a fan for a long time. And today’s your birthday. How old are you turning?”

“Nine!”

“Oh wow, you’re growing up!”

“I know, but Y/N still calls me Pollito. I’m not a little chicken.” Everyone looking on bursts out laughing as Elena frowns, and while I join them, the loud sound simply reminds me of the lack of protection on my ears.

~

Elena gets whisked off to talk and play around with Viv and some of the other girls, who seem to all have taken a genuine liking to the young girl, Camilo following to watch over them. I stand firmly on the sidelines, fidgeting with an infinity cube and trying to forget the sudden scratching of my hoodie’s tag on the back of my neck and the tightness of my socks, when a now familiar face pops in front of me.

I don’t notice her at first, my eyes are closed and I’m trying breathing patterns in hopes that the overstimulating sensations with dissipate. It’s only when I open my eyes to check on Elena that I get the shock of my life. Number 32 is just standing in front of me, staring, waiting for me to notice her. no less than a minute ago she’d been spinning Elena around and laughing with her, which I’d found alarmingly adorable, how’d she get here so fast?

She doesn’t say anything, she just smiles and waves, and I realise she must think I can’t hear her with my headphones on, which many people tend to ignore. Wow she’s much prettier up close.

“Hi, I’m Y/N” I return her smile, but don’t make any move to remove the headphones.

“I’m Kyra.” Her voice is muffled but her accent is incredible and like music to my ears.

“You played really well today.” Is she blushing? Red creeps up her neck and finds home on her round cheeks as she smiles brightly.

“Ah thanks, I try to give it my all. Hoping to prove I deserve more game time.”

“You don’t get played often?” another chuckle passes her lips and I feel my stomach tighten.

“Uh no. I take it you’re not a big football fan?”

“What gives you that idea.”

“Well rocking up to an Arsenal game with blue nails for a start.” I cock my head to the side and give her a confused look. I did a lot of research for today, there was no room for me to mess up.

“Chelsea, our biggest rivals, their colour is blue. It’s basically forbidden for an arsenal fan to wear blue to a game. Trust me, I learnt the hard way.”

I’m quick to hide my hands in the pocket at the front of my hoodie, fidgeting with my nails. How did I manage to fuck that up?

“You don’t really have to worry, just maybe keep it in mind if you ever come to another game. I hope you do by the way.” She flashes me a smile that makes me feel warm and I can’t help myself.

“You’re very pretty.” She’s about to reply when I glance down and notice her socks are still wrong.

“And I’m not sure if you know but your socks are on the wrong feet.” It’s quiet for a moment and I’m not sure if my common candour has once again overstepped. I can’t even open my mouth to apologise before she giggles.

“I knew there was something wrong. I keep doing it but no one tells me until after the game… and you’re quite beautiful yourself. If you don’t mind me saying.” My eyes continue to avoid her face as I bounce on the balls of my feet and try to refrain from shaking my hands, my most common stim.

“Thank you.”

We’re silent for a minute or so, which I don’t mind now that I’m more familiar with her. I continue to watch Elena and Camilo, who are now playing in a 5v5, Viv carrying the girl halfway down their makeshift pitch before helping her kick the ball. When her laughs echo through the stadium, joy breaking through her screams and from the yells of her dad who is playing a rather poor referee, I’m reminded of how much I love this family. I can’t help the smile on my face.

“Your sister is very adorable.” I glance to my side where Kyra now resides and contemplate telling her she isn’t my sister, but the words get stuck in my throat. If I were to say they weren’t my family after all they’ve done for me, then I’d be lying.

“Yeah. She’s basically my whole life.”

“Hey can I ask about the headphones? I mean you don’t have to say anything if you don’t want but-“

“I’m autistic. Struggle really bad with sound and other stimulants. I wear headphones to dampen sounds, especially in public. And stadiums are full of sounds.” My palms sweat a little and my breath is laboured for a moment. This is usually the part where people decide I’m a freak and never talk to me again.

“Oh cool. I totally get that, the sound thing.” That warm feeling returns. She doesn’t question anything, she just agrees.

~

Eventually the meet and greet had to end, but I manage to get a few of the girl’s numbers, including number 32’s. Something I hadn’t expected was that the team would love Elena so much that they wanted to organise season tickets and some more passes to meet up after home games. I couldn’t help but be a little proud of myself as the young girl rambled about how amazing it was to get to hang out with her idols, and the prospect of seeing them again.

~

Uni starts back up the following week, so I don’t join the two for a game for quite a while. Despite that, I find myself texting Kyra most days, a good morning and goodnight routine quickly being established. We ask each other questions about each other. ‘What did you want to be if football didn’t work out?’ ‘What made you want to study your course?’ ‘what’s your favourite thing about Australia?’.

She liked to ask me about parts of my autism every now and then. She wanted to know what things to avoid, what topics made me ramble for ages, safe foods. The only other people who had ever cared this much were Elena and Camilo. The two of which had definitely taken note of how happy I’d grown since the game.

“Who are you talking to Angelito? You haven’t smiled this big in a long time.” Camilo takes a seat beside me behind the desk of the store

There is no need to hide the blossoming relationship from him, so I turn my screen to show the messages between Kyra and I, a bold ‘No. 32’ under a very weird but unmistakable picture of the girl. He hums and smiles, lightly nudging our shoulders together.

“She likes you.”

“Pft no she doesn’t.”

“‘you’re so cute.’ ‘I really like you.’ ‘I’ll save that for when I take you on a date.’ With a winky face emoji. She literally admits she likes you. Twice.”

“I thought that was that flirty thing people do with their friends.”

“I know when people like each other.”

“How Milo?”

“I have a gift.”

“A gift hmm?” he just smiles widely down at me before taking my phone again. He begins to type something.

“What are you writing Milo? Milo!” I glance over his shoulder.

‘I really like you and would like to go on a date if you’re free.’ I’m about to scold him but three dots appear as Kyra begins typing.

“If this works you owe me an extra hour this week.”

“You are an evil schemer Camilo.” I say before squeezing his shoulder, a common sign of affection we’d developed.

‘I’d really like that. Tomorrow’s our day off if that works.’

I can’t help the squeal I let out as Camilo writes a response in confirmation.

“I’m going on a date.”

“You deserve this kiddo.”

~

Kyra and I agree on a dinner date at a restaurant I’d mentioned really enjoying a few months ago, that I hadn’t had a chance to visit since. I’d made the reservation, asking for the specific table I’d sat at the last time I came, and I’d already decided on what I was getting before I even hoped in the car to drive there.

I’d planned everything perfectly. The place, my outfit, what time I had to leave to arrive there 10 minutes before our agreed upon time. I hadn’t taken into account the car speeding through a red light and crashing into the car in the right lane beside me. Or the fact that due to the momentum I’d get caught between the 2 cars and the building on the corner of the street I was just about to turn down. No more than 15 metres from the restaurant but I’m trapped and the seatbelt is too tight and my head hurts. I’m crushed between my door and the centre console and all the sirens and ambulance lights approaching are too much and all I can do it cry.

If I could just reach my bag in the footwell of the passenger seat I could get my headphones to relieve some of the stimulation, but I can’t bend that way without my ribs screaming and whatever is poking my hip in my back making itself known.

I pray to every god I can name that I pass out, but no one hears as the jaws of life pry open my door. When were the other cars moved?

“Ma’am we have to cut you out. my colleague here is going to hold you up. Is that okay?” I don’t have any energy to say no, so I nod, waiting for some scissors to snip away at the seatbelt. Instead, I hear an electric saw whir to life.

“W- what’s the saw for?” my words are barely recognisable as they slur together.

“Ma’am everything is okay, just stay still for us okay?”

The sawing is over quicker than it begun, and the paramedics make an effort to move me as carefully as they can onto the stretcher, then into the ambulance. I make no move to complain about how the neck brace is itchy and feels suffocating.

A minute passes and through the newly developed ringing in my ears, I hear someone calling my name. they sound so far away but when I open my eyes again, Kyra is standing above me, next to the paramedic who’s hooking me up to monitors,

“Do you know this lady ma’am?” she asks me as I stare up at the girl I was meant to be on a date with.

“Yeah she’s my girlfriend.” A voice in the back of my head is worried that maybe that will freak Kyra out, but I know they won’t let her ride with me if we don’t have some close connection and for some reason friend does not cross my mind.

They allow her to take the extra seat beside me and she loops her pinky with mine. She keeps glancing down toward my stomach and taking deep breaths as we make our way down the streets of London. I try to see what she’s looking at but the brace doesn’t allow me to look that far down.

“You’re going to be okay.” She whispers as they roll me out of the ambulance, and she manages to quickly kiss me before I’m gone from view.

~

I don’t know how long I’m out for, but when I wake up there is a sterile white light beaming down on me and I have to instantly close my eyes. I’m quick to take note of the horrible feeling of the hospital gown I definitely wasn’t in when I’d gone under.

“Papa! She’s awake!” I let out a groan at the yell but and quick to smile once the voice registers in my head.

“Pollito.” My voice is no more than a whisper, hoarse and dry.

“Hey Angelito. How are you feeling.”

“Horrible. The light’s too bright and the gown is so itchy.” Neither Elena nor Camilo leave my side, but the light is off within seconds.

“I more meant physically. You were hit pretty hard.” The screeching of tyres, the smell of burnt rubber, the flashing lights, all rush back to me. So does the pain.

“Now that you mention it. What’s the damage?” it’s meant as a joke but I’m trying not to cry.

“3 broken ribs, 2 fractured, a torn vastus lateralis in your thigh, a lot of muscle damage in your back. It’s going to be a lot of physical therapy kiddo.” The thought has bile rising in my throat.

“Fuck me.”

“It’s okay, we’re going to be here the whole way. All of us.” By now I could know the voice in a crowd of people.

I turn my head and there she is. Kyra is sat in one of the uncomfortable hospital seats with her hand on top of mine.

“If it’s okay with you, Camilo, me and some of the arsenal girls are going to sort out a schedule to take turns helping you with PT. Viv was really hoping she could give some tips considering how long she spent doing PT.”

“That sounds perfect. But please tell me one of you has my pyjamas. I need to get out of this gown.”

~

There was no lie in how difficult rehab was. I had an hour appointment at the hospital every day and additional work at home that Milo, Kyra and some of the arsenal girls happily helped with. The hardest hurdle was amount of physical touch that was required. My physical therapist, Jordan, always made sure I knew when she needed to touch my leg or something, but that did very little to sooth the feeling that crawled beneath my skin. She was able to dim the fluorescent white lights and allowed me to wear my headphone which did help a small amount.

Kyra basically moved into my room above the shop. Milo insisted he could do all the work of getting me around the house and the shop, but we knew he couldn’t while maintaining the shop and looking after Elena. Elena tried her best to help by making me breakfast. She gathered pre-made versions of my safe breakfast food and carefully place them separately on a plate, with a glass of orange juice every morning. After the first week she realised I’d be in a wheelchair and struggling to move around much for much longer than she thought, so she quickly gave up on that idea and began making me penguin drawings at school.

I’d adapted to having Kyra around much quicker than I expected to. When I moved in at 17, it took me months to get used to the layout and the fact that I was alone, despite Camilo and Elena living in the house across the road. I adapted to Kyra’s presence within weeks.

After the second week we’d decided it was easier to share the bed rather than her sleeping on the couch, which had been the biggest change. I struggled with it the first few nights. I had a sleep routine that was already disrupted by the injuries, now I had to take another person into account. But she was so warm, and I felt so safe in her arms. Whenever I woke up from a nightmare about the crash, she grabbed me an iced tea and my headphones and would ramble about whatever interests she had recently developed or whatever was happening at training.

It was in the second month things took a more serious turn. Well serious for our relationship. I was sitting at the table chopping the vegetables for dinner while she begins cooking, when I took a minute to just look at her. The warm lighting softened her features, her quiet humming to whatever song was playing carried throughout the room, the smile that seemed to never leave her face sat perfectly on her lips as she listened to me ramble about the newly discovered yellow king penguin. She was so radiant and attentive, and she was never annoyed at me when I was overstimulated or wanted to infodump. She was seemingly unaffected by my rehab and most importantly unaffected by my autism. After a life full of negative interactions and losing people because of one thing I couldn’t control, I’d found a family and a partner who embraced me.

I didn’t realise I was crying until she turned and asked me what was wrong.

“I’m just grateful.”

“For what?”

“You, Milo, Elena. I love you all so much.” I didn’t realise I’d said it really. I was just being candid, as I always was.

“You love me?”

“Yes.” There was no hesitation even as it dawned on me.

“Well, I love you too.” There is a split second between the end of her sentence and the meeting of our lips in a kiss.

“Will you be my girlfriend?” I ask as we pull away.

“Wait- I thought- when you called me your girlfriend on the ambulance I kind of took that as you asking me to be your girlfriend.” She begins laughing.

“What? This whole time I’ve been nervous about actually asking you and you already thought I had?” I can’t help but join her laugh.

“We’re such fools.” She whispers, and we kiss again.

I'll always be a fool for her.

[liloinkoink]

hey guys, someone just sent me a weird ass ask claiming my incredibly close friend cherri @cherrifire secretly hate me and is talking abt me behind my back. i was not the only person to get one of these identical slanderous asks. i’ve already blocked the anon but like. open letter to them, and for the benefit of anyone else who gets an ask like this….

1) anon, you’re genuinely fucking stupid

2) hysterical to send this when i was actively chatting w her, while we were in the process of fleshing out yet another renchanting au, something we have done all day every day for… gosh, how long has it been now? nearly two years? i would say that it was really bad timing to send this ask to me while i was actively chatting aus w her but there really isn’t any moment you could have sent this that i wouldn’t have been.

3) if you thought i wasn’t gonna call bullshit and snitch immediately you don’t know shit about me or cherri, which, granted, is evident by the ask in general, but you really are stupid

4) if a gc like this existed—which it does not, bc cherri is not like this and would not do this—i would be in it. this idiot doesn’t even know im cherri’s emotional support writer. do you have any idea how many gcs and servers she’s dragged me into w her.

5) get your facts right cherri talks shit about me to my face. this is mutual. fake ass fan. if you were a real cherri friend you would know this smh

6) no, actually, you’re right, she definitely hates me. that’s why i met her irl literally like 3 months ago on her invitation, we hung out for a genuine week, spent basically the whole time arm in arm or hand in hand. this is also why we were planning a second meetup last night. you idiot. you fool. you complete and utter moron

anyway, if anyone gets this ask:

it’s complete bullshit. theyre sending this to cherri’s best friends for some godforsaken reason. it’s very weird and deeply cringe. also incredibly poorly planned. idk how many ppl you sent this to, but a few of us are in a gc and we have been making fun of this ask for like an hour (anon, im one of cherri’s friends and she’s been telling a small group of friends about you— lol. lmao even)

anyway like. to reiterate. cherri’s one of my best friends, she’s absolutely lovely and i’m lucky every day to know her. we hang out and chat constantly and we’ve met irl and it was an incredible experience i would love to repeat. i have told her things i have not fuckin told anyone else and you could not otherwise waterboard out of me. i love talking to her all the time and i miss her when she’s busy for even like, an hour. i love writing w her and creating things w her. she’s an incredibly bright spot in my life, often the first person i think of upon waking and the last i think of before i sleep. she is kind and funny and i love her a lot.

i’m a bitch tho so like @ this anon go fuck yourself. you better hope that when you die that the devil finds you before i do. sending this ask to a bunch of our friends, trying to turn the people she cares about against her, and for what? you clearly don’t know her well enough to be talking like this. trying to ruin my friend’s reputation and friendships w a vague as hell and entirely baseless copy paste is super fucking weird. why would you do this? and like, do you think we were born yesterday to fall for this? i’m insulted for her for whatever it was you were trying to pull and i’m insulted on behalf of myself and everyone else you sent this to that you think we’re as stupid as you are. what is your damage. get a hobby.

[marwolaeth-76]

Hi (⁠ ⁠◜⁠‿⁠◝⁠ ⁠)⁠♡, Can you make a one shot of Veneer with a female reader, where the reader is also a singer (solo) but Veneer tries to get closer to her, in every possible way until at one point the attraction between the two of them is so noticeable that in interviews they begin to ask them about it, and in the end they start a relationship.

Hi!! thank you for your request and thank you for waiting, I hope you like it🩷 and I want to apologize for waiting request other people, I’m sick right now so I don’t have the strength to write😢

Veneer x !FemReader stars fell in love with each other

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

You take a deep breath as you walk down the halls of build preparing for your interview. Ever since your debut single dropped, your life has been a whirlwind. Fans, photoshoots, awards shows - it's all so exciting but also overwhelming at times. As you near the stage, you spot a familiar face in the crowd. Veneer gives you a small grin. Your heart skips a beat, you've been growing closer to the star singer over the past few months. Between running into each other at events and bonding over the pressures of fame, you've found yourself developing feelings for him. The interview goes well until the host notices your lingering glances at Veneer. "Soo tell me - are you two there is something between you?" Kid Ritz ask slyly, crossing one leg over the other, raising an eyebrow questioningly. You it’s hard to hide your nervousness, a chill of embarrassment runs down your spine, you should have guessed that such embarrassing questions cannot be avoided, people love drama, especially between stars. Before you can stammer a response, Veneer speaks up. "We just care for each other", -he says with a warm smile in your direction. "But for now, we're just enjoying each other's company and support as we both navigate this new chapter in our lives and careers." - His tone is calm, he must have planned this answer, it’s not just that he’s sitting among the audience? although maybe it's just a coincidence. His words are reassuring yet leave the door open for something more. After the show, you share a private moment backstage. "Before you think I'm a heartless ladies' man", - Veneer began to speak in his usual mannered voice. "I..I meant what I said earlier" - Veneer says softly, taking your hand in his. "You know? I really like you, It was already difficult for me to keep it to myself. Everything is happening so fast, I can’t say that I’m unhappy with it" To say that you are in shock is not enough to say, no, of course you dreamed of this, but to really have Veneer feel the same feelings for you as you do? You stand there like a real fool, staring at the guy with wide eyes for almost a full minute before coming to your senses, catching the slightly embarrassed expression on the singer's face. You beam up at him. "Um!..I like you too? this is so awkward, I'm sorry, Don’t get me wrong, I’ve really kind of... fallen in love with you for a long time.." Leaning in, your lips stretched out in an embarrassed smile, Your heart conquers the normal rate of beats per second, you pull the guy in to kiss him on the cheek. "Ohh only on the cheek?" - Veneer asks with a note of mischief, the slight nervousness left his face, although you could swear that his hand you were holding was shaking slightly, he looking at you with his sparkling blue eyes. Looking away slightly to the side, you shake your head, raising your eyebrows and answer excited: "everything has its time)" While love brings challenges, you're glad to face them with Veneer by your side.

♡♡♡

uhhh i really wrote little, srr, bad health does not allow me to think of something normally 😤

[cilil]

Today I unearthed a folder in which I saved some good memories from school, mostly drawings and doodles I made together with friends or by myself, and it's making me emotional.

I... found that I made fanart for a game I loved at that time and... the art wasn't bad. Especially for a teenager and beginner artist (yes, I am a beginner artist to this day, it's embarrassing, I know). The art was cute, even has some attempts at shading and converting colors to black and white. I like it. A lot actually.

And now I just sit on my bed, holding these old sketches, and wonder why I never pursued art. I loved it so much. I had fun. My younger self wouldn't have kept these drawings if not, and my older self can see it on the paper, in every line, every stroke, every tiny grain of pencil dust.

What made me think that this wasn't worth pursuing, not worth trying again until many years later? What discouraged me? I don't remember an exact moment or anything; the only thing I know for sure is that I knew and believed - and know and believe to this day, to be honest - that there's a lack of innate ability on my part and that others my age are so far ahead and were back then as well. Hell, I've been behind since I failed to color within the lines in kindergarten.

It feels and felt like a fool's errand to deal with my clumsy hands and messed up back for hours just to end up with something that is... maybe charming in my eyes, but so, so subpar in the grand scheme of things.

I stuck to writing in the end because it was the only thing people said I was good at. And I'm glad I - just this once - had the courage to do so and to keep going and, eventually, push myself into sharing it on the internet too. Through sheer delusion and determination and lots, oh, lots of writing I clawed myself up to a place where I feel just confident enough in my skills to not constantly question myself and happily create.

And therein lies the answer for art as well, doesn't it? "Just keep trying, just put in all those hours and days and months and years of work for it as well, until your hands bleed and your back gives out, eventually you'll get there! Talent is not required either!"

But it's not that simple. I'm not sure I can do this again, muster enough courage and delusion to be terrible for years until I finally start making things that go from subpar to mediocre. And maybe never from mediocre to decent or even good.

When I learned to write, I had other people's claims that I was talented to fall back on and wasn't as hopelessly behind other people. Now motivation is lower and frustration is higher. Learning curves and empty canvases paralyze me; the last time I made art it took me 2 full hours until I could push past it. Not to mention that I'd picked out all references and tutorials and everything a week before.

Where does this leave us? What will I do, you ask? Well. Even if I never beat these demons I can assure you that, every once in a while, the urge will overcome me and I will attempt something. Maybe I'll learn and improve just a little by accident. Maybe I'll even get my ass up and actually learn sometime.

I am technically currently doing an art event somewhere else, so at the very least I will be forced to make a few pieces.

And I know myself a bit better these days. That also helps.

I know that, if anything will get me past the demons, it's obsession, the need to illustrate my own fics and, most importantly, porn.

[nicascurls]

Breaking The Dollhouse - Chapter Seven

Word Count: 3.3K

Summary: What would have happened if Junior survived and was taken by Tiffany from the hospital? What would that mean for Junior and Nica over the next year?

Notes: Yes, I know. I'm awful at consistent updates, these may be slow but i promise i will not be stopping for good any time soon. There is still a lot of this story to go. Also, it's GG's birthday today, so this chapter is dedicated to them!

Tags: @barclaysangel @streets-in-paradise @fairchilds-glasses @high-functioning-fang1rl

“I win.” Junior announced once again with a triumphant smile.

“Again?! I knew I was out of practice but this is just embarrassing!” Junior had stumbled across a pack of playing cards as he was ‘exploring’ the week before, Tiffany had grown used to Junior being more fidgety after having to stay hidden when the twins visited, since Tiffany still seems to think that it isn’t the ‘right time’ to introduce them. It certainly isn’t a lie, Junior still dreads being cooped up in his room for multiple days as the twins visit, he doesn’t blame them, only Tiffany. If Tiffany is so focused on keeping him and Nica for that matter, hidden from them, maybe they are actually pretty decent people, he’s never heard them mention Chucky. Maybe they disowned him or something and are being fooled by their mother the way he was. 

The only time Junior can leave his room during those visits is when everyone is in bed and he can sneak out to see Nica. He wishes he could do more than that, that’s the main reason why he feels the need to wonder around more after the visits. Those visits continue to remind Junior of just how trapped his mom and him are, how desperately he needs to find a way for both of them to escape. They had been there for months now and Junior had memorised almost every inch of the house's interior and is still no closer to finding a way out. 

As a small plus, Junior does at least find more things of use, even if that is just entertainment. Like the playing cards that he and Nica had made great use of over the past week. 

“Right, come on. One more game before we get some sleep, I need to redeem myself.” Nica claimed with a smile as she gathered up the cards. Junior only gave her a judgemental look in response, “Winning one game is enough to redeem yourself after losing for a week straight?” 

“Obviously! Now, you shuffle for us, I'm still kinda sluggish right now. I think Tiffany gave me a higher dose this morning.” Nica suppressed a yawn as she passed the deck over to the boy.

“Excuses, excuses.” Junior joked as he began to shuffle, “Aren’t you supposed to be the one to tell me we need to sleep as I insist on another game? You know, set a good example for me and all that?”

“Probably. But were also being held hostage by a woman who willingly married Chucky. I’m pretty sure Oogie Boogie would seem like a good influence in comparison.”

Junior let out a chuckle as he began to deal the cards once again, he knew Nica didn’t want to risk falling asleep whilst the drugs were still affecting her. He wasn’t sure exactly why, he’s assuming it’s to do with her time in mental hospitals but was never quite brave enough to ask. He didn’t want to risk bringing up bad memories for Nica, Junior just wants to make sure she’s okay. 

“Um- Mom?”

“Yeah, honey?” Nica tried to suppress the buzz of excitement at being called ‘mom’ once again. 

“Are you starting to feel better, now? With how much she drugged you? Like- do you know what day it is?” Junior couldn’t help but worry, reverting back to his early tactics when he first began talking to Nica. 

“Yeah. Yeah, I'm okay, just waiting for the last of the fog to go. It’s uh- Sunday, right?”

“Monday. May 21st.”

Something in Nica’s eyes seemed to change for a moment then, she looked distant, almost haunted. “Monday, okay…” She took a deep breath and composed herself once again, but Junior couldn’t ignore it.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Junior had noticed the way Nica’s eyes were shining with tears that had begun to well up.

She sniffled slightly before answering, “Yeah, I'm- I'll be fine. It’s just-” She took another breath to help steady her voice, “It’s Alice’s birthday tomorrow. She would have been thirteen.”

“Oh.” it felt as if that was all Junior could say. Instead, he opted to gather up the cards and quickly set them aside before moving to sit next to Nica, gently resting his head on her shoulder as a form of comfort. It managed to pull a small smile to Nica’s face as she wrapped an arm around Junior’s shoulder and held him closer, brushing her thumb against his shoulder.

They’re not sure how long they stayed like that, Nica couldn’t focus on much at all. Her mind was consumed by different scenarios and ‘what if’s, all the things she could have done, even slightly differently, that just might have saved her niece's life. 

Nica could remember joking with Ian about how he and Barb would cope when Alice became a teenager, if they would struggle, especially with Barb's constant claims of Nica already being a ‘bad influence’ on Alice. Nica herself could just never picture it. Not then, or now. She couldn’t for the life of her imagine Alice as a teenager, that was part of the pain. Something she once thought she would get an answer to without even realising it would now never be answered, Alice would never change from that cheerful, curious, little girl that lived in her memories. She would always be that innocent little girl who would run to her Auntie Nica’s arms every time they were reunited.

The same one that was scared of ya.

Stop it. You manipulated her!

She had already decided when I found her again!

She was confused because of what you did!

“Mommy and daddy are dead. Auntie Nica killed them.”

“Just shut the fuck up!” Junior instinctively flinched and Nica’s tone and it suddenly sunk in that she had spoken out loud.

“I’m sorry! I’m so sorry honey. It- I didn’t mean to snap, it wasn’t directed at you.” She wanted to reach out, stroke his hair or pull him close but was also terrified of frightening him again. She had scared him, she knew that, and hated it.

“I know… It’s okay, it just startled me. What was he saying?”  She took a deep breath. “Just- a whole load of bullshit. You know how he is…” 

With that, Junior decided it was best not to pry, Nica had gotten used to dealing with Chucky’s comments, even mastered the art of responding to him without saying anything out loud. Unfortunately, that also meant that it must have been something awful for Nica to snap enough that she spoke out loud without realising it. Nica herself was still quiet, Junior could tell that she was trying to keep her emotions hidden, the same way she would stay silent around Tiffany as she rambled, fearful that if she didn’t she would drop the act of believing she was dismembered and kill her right then and there with her bare hands. She couldn’t do that, no matter how bad either of them wanted it. They would have nowhere to go, Nica could try and clear her name but she would have no chance of that if she killed ‘Jennifer Tilly’ in cold blood. 

It was strange, Junior never thought he would have wanted a sibling, sure he felt lonely growing up and he liked spending time with Jake when they were little kids, but he always knew that if he had had a sibling, it would have just been more comparisons made by his dad. More competition and training, a constant battle for validation from his father. Yet, hearing the way his adoptive mother spoke of her niece, he knows it would have never been like that, a part of him hopes that they would have gotten along. Granted, if Alice was anything like her aunt, he’s sure they would have. He can’t help but imagine how different his upbringing would have been if Nica had been found innocent in her trial and adopted her niece, from what he knows, Alice may as well have been her daughter anyway. Would he have still met Nica? A part of him wished that Chucky was lying, was it possible for Chucky to show Nica things he imagined and pass them off as memories? Maybe Alice could have gotten away, she was safe and hiding somewhere, maybe started going by a different name and is in a random foster home somewhere...

His thoughts were interrupted by Nica taking a deep breath, the kind he had grown accustomed to hearing when Tiffany would leave the room. As if her emotions that were fighting to get out had finally stopped pushing on the door, for better or worse.

“Right,” she sighed out, “Would you like one more game or would you rather just get some sleep, Junbug?”

“Uh, I think I would just like to get some sleep if you don’t mind.”

“Not at all, honey.”

As he lay down and began to allow sleep to take over his senses, he couldn’t help but worry about his mom. He could ignore the feeling that she was trying so hard to avoid becoming like her own mother that she would end up hurting herself even more. She was so devoted to making sure that he was okay and staying strong for him that she was fighting all her grief and suffering on her own as well as fighting his grief and trauma alongside him. He had to do something, help her in some way, let her know that she’s allowed to struggle as well. That’s when the idea struck him, and calmed those worries enough for him to drift off to sleep. 

Where the fuck was she?!

Junior was sure he must have checked almost every room in the house by now and yet no sign of Tiffany. It didn’t make sense, she hasn’t left the house since she brought him and Nica here, and she wouldn’t have gone to ‘visit’ Nica without telling him. But the only explanation she had given was that she just had to ‘take care of something’. He half debated going to check on Nica but it was far too risky without knowing where Tiffany was and what direction to listen out for her. 

That was when he heard it, the faint noise of Tiffany’s signature cackle, he focused on the sound, following it intently to find his captor. Before he came face to face with that door, the one other door Tiffany told him to stay away from after Nica’s room. Which luckily, had stopped being off limits after it was clear to her how well he had been getting along with her ‘girlfriend’.

His curiosity got the better of him, he had to know what she was doing in there, was it more voodoo stuff. Maybe she was helping Chucky again, and decided to give him another chance considering that part of him was still possessing the woman Tiffany had ‘fallen for’. 

There was another voice, but it definitely wasn’t Chucky, it was a female voice, one too small and muffled for him to make out the words through the door. It wasn’t long before he heard the familiar clicking of Tiffany’s stilettos and he rushed, at least as quickly as his heart would let him before resuming his place on the couch as if he had never moved. 

Tiffany was already drunk, Junior figured he had half an hour tops before she passed out this time, that's when he would investigate. And like clock work, he watched as Tiffany clumsily placed her wine glass down as her eyelids began to droop. He gave it another five minutes just to be sure that she was out before retracing his steps to the room, his precious kitchen knife in hand. 

He hesitated briefly once he was there, debating whether he should knock. He doesn’t know why, surely no one would be in there unless they had to, so he decided to skip that part and start picking the lock. He soon heard the triumphant click and slowly pried the door open and to his confusion, saw a room nothing like the one Nica was placed in. Strange. He was so sure he heard a voice, he expected the same layout as another bedroom but this seemed to be no more than a storage room. Random boxes and items coated in dust was all he could see, there had to be something he was missing. 

“Hello?” Junior fought hard to keep his voice as steady as possible, if there was someone in there with him, he couldn’t let them know he was afraid. He was beginning to think he had imagined that mystery voice earlier, he was just being paranoid when there was an almost inaudible response.

“Who- who’s there?” Unlike his own, this voice had been unsuccessful at hiding the fear in it, or maybe the owner wasn’t even trying.

“Where are you?” Junior called out a little louder, still on edge but more determined now. 

“In the cage- under the sheet in the back of the room.”

Junior’s eyes instantly landed on a faded sheet covering something that, at first glance, he would have never guessed to be a cage. The shape seemed too big and an unusual size for something similar to the kind of animal cages he had seen in the past but also too small for a human to fit, except maybe a small child. Oh gods, please not a child!

Junior steadied his trembling hand as it wrapped around the sheet in front of him, and drew in one more deep breath before pulling it clean away. 

For a moment, he was frozen by the dozens of questions racing through his head, trying to settle on which one he should ask first. It was a cage, a huge, shining gold, old-fashioned bird cage and, somehow, that was the most normal thing that was unveiled. Sitting inside, on a lining of newspaper with a small desk behind her littered with letters and a cheque book was a doll. Another goddamn living doll, but this one seemed different, she looked almost the same as the lookalike Tiffany doll that human Tiffany had placed in the truck with the Good Guys last November. Except this one had a large wound on the side of her head with stitches holding it closed and an unmistakable look of fear in her eyes, the kind that could not be faked. Besides all those dolls from the truck burned up, fried by the explosion after Andy Barclay drove the vehicle off of Hackensack Gorge, taking himself with it. 

Junior couldn’t ignore the pang of guilt that took over, he had tried to warn him, and he should have listened.

“Wh- who are you?” Junior asked, desperately trying to push through the regrets that were filling his head. The doll’s eyes hadn’t left him once, still wide and afraid as ever.

“I’m Jennifer, Jennifer Tilly!” She rushed on with her explanation before Junior could respond, “I know how that sounds but the woman keeping me here, she’s an imposter! Her name is-”

“Tiffany Valentine.”

“Yes! It’s the truth, I swear it!”

Junior held his hands up in mock surrender, “I know, I believe you. She’s trapped me here too.” With that, Jennifer finally began to calm down, at least temporarily, before some mix of a sob and a laugh escaped her plastic lips, “You know who she is. You believe me and you found me!”

Junior gave a sheepish grin as he lowered himself to sit by the cage, hesitantly placing the fingers of his right hand through the gaps.

“I’m Junior, by the way. How long have you been down here?”  Jennifer took a moment to think as she reached a small plastic hand to hold his fingers as a substitute for a handshake. 

“Oh, I couldn’t tell you exactly. Since my babies were born, that's when she switched our souls. Do you know anything about them? My babies? Are they safe?”

“Glen and Glenda? The twins? I think so, I haven’t met them but they visit once a month. I think they’re doing well…”

There it was, the first smile Jennifer had given it what felt like years, maybe it had really been that long. There was so much more they both wanted to ask but they were interrupted by a distant crash, no doubt Tiffany knocking her wine glass to the ground in her sleep. Both prisoners tensed up, “Kid, you have to get out of here. If she finds you-”

“I know, but I'll come back later, when she’s asleep I promise. I still have a lot of questions.”

“Okay, be careful!”

“I will.” Junior gave her one last apologetic smile before draping the sheet back over the cage. 

Breathe, in and out. Nica had to keep reminding herself of that, to focus on that and the birds moving back and forth, taunting her from the other side of the glass. Somehow that was more bearable than her hunger, the fog around her brain from the drugs and the unbearable itching of the dress she was forced to wear. Luckily, in Tiffany’s obviously still tipsy state, she had forgotten to draw the curtains over one of the windows, so once again watching the world go by became Nica’s source of entertainment as she waited for Junior to pick the lock. 

Anything to distract her from thinking about things that should have happened on this day, including spoiling her niece rotten- No! Focus on the birds, she could just about watch them from this distance as they hop around under the glow of the outside lights. It was nice in a way, being able to see once again that there is life outside of the cage she is currently trapped in, it helps to remind her to keep going, that Junior could have a future still-

Speaking of, the familiar sound of the lock being pried open started once again. Except Junior did not confidently burst in as he had begun doing, in fact he lingered just outside of the room, almost as if he was hiding behind the door. A brief flash of terror struck through Nica as the idea came to her that maybe Tiffany had found them out and was threatening Junior from the shadows. 

However, that fear quickly evaporated as Junior gave his signature half smile,

“Sorry i’m later than usual, I uh-” He slowly entered the room carrying an unopened box of brownies with him, “I was trying to see if there were any kind of cakes in the kitchen but these were the closest thing that I could find. I just thought that, even if Alice isn’t with us, it is still her birthday. I thought you might still want to celebrate her…”

Nica couldn’t stop a few tears from overflowing at Junior’s explanation, she hadn’t celebrated her niece’s birthday since the last time she spent one with her. She didn’t allow herself to celebrate it when she was in Lochmoor, the hypnosis had started taking effect and she told herself she didn’t deserve to be involved in any way. Not that she would have been allowed to do much. 

“Yeah, I would like that…” It was barely more than a whisper, “I think she would have wanted us to as well, not to mention how happy she would have been. She preferred brownies over cake anyway.”

Junior allowed his smile to spread a little further across his face as she pulled two brownies out of the box. The whole experience was bittersweet but Nica couldn’t have been more grateful for it, Junior even had them quietly sing happy birthday and yet, something was still so clearly on Junior’s mind.

“Is everything okay, Junbug?” 

“Yeah, mom. Uh- look. I know it’s kinda shitty timing, and I don’t want to ruin Alice’s day or anything but it’s pretty urgent…”

“Don’t worry about that, honey. What’s the matter? Are you sick?” She instinctively placed a hand over his forehead.

“No, I’m fine but, remember when we were trying to figure out why Tiffany and Jennifer don’t switch like you and Chucky do?”

“Yeah..?”

“I’ve found out why.”

[bookscandlesnbts]

they must have been planning/talked about this for a long time since the application process starts so far in advance, and then they went on their japan trip so would’ve had moments alone nearer to the enlistment time so of course they would have private moments to talk, but it also must be so difficult when you’re moments from actually enlisting and there’s btb staff cameras, media cameras, parents and family, 2 enlisted members and everything! so overwhelming - the moment where JK rubs JMs head and JM looks away then back at him, and that long look they cut at the end of the btb felt so…. heavy

Hi anon. Get ready for some all over the place thoughts because honestly, I’ve been having a hard time. And I knew I would, but even trying to anticipate this and getting myself mentally “ready”, I am not ready. I was not ready to say goodbye to Jimin, to Jikook to any of the members. And I’m not fooled. 18 months is a long damn time. If it’s this hard on day 2, then I need to prepare myself. I need distractions. If I still get anons, and can come up with things to post, then I will stay active on here. I have no one to gush about BTS with in my real life and even less so now that they are all gone to MS. I made it 2 minutes into Jimin’s last live and then I couldn’t do it. He was devastated. He was holding back tears and we know from a decade worth of content that Jimin is not one to cry easily. He waited until the very last second to cut his hair. It really broke my heart to know that he has to do this and doesn’t want to at all. In fact, I spent pretty much all of yesterday and the day before crying and now I am having moments where I break down if I’m alone with my thoughts for too long. Don’t be fooled either. It’s not just Jimin. I’m furious that all the members and every citizen has to. That MS is mandatory. But I’m not going to talk about that or go further into my thoughts on it.

I figured it would only be a matter of time before we learned more about the application timeline, but I knew it had to be far enough in advance. If I had even known that a companion enlistment existed, I would have called it from Day 1 that they would enlist together, but I sadly can’t claim that.

I hope they got as ready as they possibly could. It seemed like the reality set in for JM and JK during their lives, and unlike some of the shittest most obnoxious parts of the fandoms (yn cis hets looking at you) that claimed that JK was going to be so excited to go and want to even stay longer, he wasn’t. He wasn’t at all. His live was short and somber. He also said that he was iffy about it. I know BTS didn’t want special treatment, and part of me is glad that they didn’t get it because of the uproar that it would cause, but it’s still awful that they had to do it at all. I have to trick myself sometimes into thinking that it’s not what it really is just to cope.

The way Jimin bent forward to JK showing him his head made me cry. He needed comfort and approval, and JK just rubbed it over and over and looked away from Jimin for a minute. I think he was overwhelmed too. Of course, he complimented him which was so sweet.

I’ll be honest, I’m pretty terrible at noticing footage cuts, but that one was SO OBVIOUS that if I can notice it, then it’s really bad. I can’t even speculate what was cut because I’m not creative but my guess is that they said something comforting and private to each other.

In summary, I hate this. I knew I would hate it. But it’s so much more painful than I could have imagined and I think it’s because JM and JK were both so sad in their lives. And don’t get me wrong, I’m so so glad they were honest with us. That’s how you know that they aren’t “fake” and “scripted” like some idiots want all of the members to be characters in a tv show. They are human and they bared their human emotional souls to us. And it broke my heart and it will for the next 18 months. I think about how long we have been without Jin already and it sucks so much. But we will be there for each other. We will try to have little joys and experiences. We will work on ourselves and improve whatever it is we want to improve or achieve. Or some days or most days we will just fucking exist. We also don’t have to do anything monumental or special. Existing is enough too. Existing until 2025 when they reunite.

[damianabsinthe]

Psychic Sobriety Chapter Three

In which the reader has intense feelings, and Leon is the sweetest, most oblivious friend ever. Too bad he doesn't know you're having them.

hypothetical tags for this chapter: nicotine, alcohol cravings, pining, shame, cool rocks.

Words: 1,200

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I was dreaming of warmth. Strong arms pulled around me, until they weren’t. I sleepily chased the heat, landing on a solid surface. He was like a heater, creating the perfect temperature for me, blankets off, Leon on. I rested there until I went back to sleep. My nightmares were perfectly chased away by his figure resting next to me, alive and well. I asked, half awake and terrified of losing him, if we could hold hands. What a childish request. What a request born of insecurity and fear. Also born out of desire, our hands touched and his squeezed mine three times- the universal I love you. It started with a plea for comfort and ended up with me fully asleep on top of him. 

I didn’t feel bad. He had been touching me for months, I decided. It was innocent, hand brushes between passing the bottle back and forth, a hand on my hip to steady me as I stood on a chair, holding my hand when I got too drunk, so we aren’t separated. I decided this was payback for making my heart skip beats and allowing butterflies to fly around in my stomach. I just had a nightmare about him- nothing helped as much as holding him, knowing he was alive and safe and in my arms. 

He kept fidgeting. I wrapped a leg around him, and he stilled. Oh Leon, always so eager to please. I drifted back into deep sleep to the feeling of him around me. He smelled like whiskey and soap. 

My sleep was awoken by a loss of warmth. I wasn’t cold, but in contrast to his body pressed against mine, I could only grieve the absence. I reached an arm out and spread it across the smooth sheet- he wasn’t there. A moan punctuated the heady silence in the apartment. It was masculine, with vaguely concealed desire, and a slight cut off at the end. Leon. I woke up further and waited. I was rewarded for my patience by another moan- he was masturbating. A thick line of desire ran through me. I could go out there and catch him, ask him demurely what are you doing here all alone at such a late hour? As if I hadn’t been envisioning his moans every time I finger myself for the past two years. As if I hadn’t made a fool of myself by coming onto him. Shame runs through me, hot and nauseating. Sobriety doesn’t suit me. 

He makes a jerked, strangled sound, clearly muffled by something. It’s cute how he doesn’t want to wake me. I wished he would wake me up like that, with a hand on my cunt and his mouth in my ear moaning please, I need you so badly. 

I don’t move, and all too soon his moans go away, replaced with a sigh of discontent. He did not come. Which is perfectly fine by me, if he isn’t doing it for himself, I am more than happy to help out. Not that he wants me to. I briefly wondered if he was thinking about me, about how I would feel around him. If the thought of me was so repulsive it turned him off.

There's the sound of his flask opening. I know it by heart. He’s getting drunk again. I came onto him, he rejected me, he left the bed we’re sharing to fail getting off, and now he’s drinking. It stings. I’m a set of waiting arms for him, whenever he chooses me. I want a drink. I wish he had left the backup flask in his room. I think it’s still in the bathroom from when he offered it to me when I locked myself in there. I was having a panic attack and he knocked on the door, all soft voiced, as if I would break if he spoke normally. He asked How are you doing? Can I help? Would you like some vodka? He was sweet when he offered me alcohol. He knew vodka was my favorite, and always kept a flask full for when we went out. He offered it to me then, softly knocking on the door and waiting for me to open it, just enough to touch his fingers as he passed it, but not enough for him to see my crying eyes. I thanked him, and he said don’t worry about it. But I wasn’t thanking him for the alcohol, I was saying thank you for knowing me so well. Thank you for being here for me. Thank you for accepting my brokenness as I accept yours. 

            I sat in the bathtub nursing that flask like it was a dying soldier. That day, I was overwhelmed from going outside. The previous time, it was because of a flashback. It’s always something with me. I’m lucky to have someone in my life I haven’t scared off. If I didn’t scare him last night, I doubt I ever would. I remember thinking that day, clothes pressed to cold porcelain, that Leon understood dark moments. I had seen them firsthand. 

            Tonight, I lay in his bed, with the scent of him on his sheets. He smells like a liquor shop. It does nothing to satisfy my cravings. I reach over and quietly take my vape off the bedside table, not wanting to alert him of my wakefulness. I take a hit, savoring the nicotine high as it flooded through me, leaving me tingling. I let out a small cloud of smoke, watching it float in the moonlight. 

            The night feels brighter than usual. It must be a full moon. I can see the dirty laundry basket in the closet, with the sliding door that never closes. I can see his second favorite leather jacket hanging on the chair next to his desk. What he keeps in that second desk, while he has the office room, is beyond me. He always keeps it locked, but even if he didn’t, I wouldn’t look. He keeps the office door closed too, and has never invited me inside. We either sit on the balcony, kitchen, or living room. But I’ve been in his room before- I know the layout. Bed, writing desk, chair, dresser, closet. Blue or army green sheets, no mirrors, nothing folded. I look at the top of his dresser to boredly take inventory. It has a bottle of whiskey, a motorcycle helmet, and a cool rock I gave him about a year ago. All practical things, no decorations. Minus the rock, which is sick as hell.

            I know firsthand how soft his leather jacket is. I’ve felt it on him, gripping his arms as I run home after a particularly fun night. He offered it to me once- and I protested, but he was already taking it off and draping it over my arms. It was still warm. I wonder how many others have felt the jacket, how many have run their hands over his arms before they take it off, how many has he offered it to in the cold? How many nameless people know this jacket in a more intimate setting than me?

            My jealousy is bottomless, and my yearning is painful. I change positions to get it out of my head. I face the wall, seeing the small cracks in the veneer of the expensive yet small apartment. I close my eyes again. Morning has not yet come. 

[theearlgreymage]

Despite having written close to 25k words this month, I have been SLACKING on making any type of "Six Sentence Sunday" or "WIP Wednesday" Posts. Partially because my NaNoWriMo Project is a secret gift. Partially because I have been cursed by an eldritch deity and never know peace.

Anyway. To each and every one of you who continues to tag me - you're gems. Sweethearts. Sparkles of Light on my bad days. I love and appreciate each of you, even if I do it silently from my little corner of the world.

Setting the emotions aside now.

Here are as many sentences as I feel like sharing from my project. Because I've been quiet lately and ya'll deserve more than just six measly sentences for not abandoning me. (And if you're from the CO Fandom, know that I'm coming back to all my SnowBaz WIPs as soon as I finish this beast)

An Excerpt from Chapter XI

As I finish Erwin’s request, I level my gaze back on him. Finding his eyes with my own, there’s a look, an intensity, in them that leaves my mouth dry. There’s a question flying in the blue of his irises, a curiosity that I want to sate.  What does he want from me?  Swallowing, I lean forwards in my seat. Propping my elbows on the table, even though Erwin told me that proper nobles keep their elbows off the tops of tables and desks. “How much of this is true?”  Erwin’s eyes flash at my question, and he leans in himself. Bringing our heads close enough together that I can smell the tea and cream from breakfast on his breath. “What do you think?”   “I think I’m not being told everything,” anything, “and that’s on purpose.”  Apparently, that was the right thing to say as Erwin grins at me. And again, I’m struck with how much he reminds me of that boy who’s name I can’t recall. Brilliant white teeth and pink lips that soften his angular face. The sight stirs something reminiscent in my gut. I’m half tempted to ask Erwin if he feels it too, if I remind him of someone from his own childhood. But before I can gather the courage to potentially make a fool of myself if I’m wrong, Erwin is asking more questions of me.  “And why would they do that? Why not tell you, tell everyone the truth?”  “The same reason anyone avoids the truth, because they have something to hide.” It’s an easy answer. One of the first lessons that Kenny taught me. Everyone has something to hide, and if you can find that truth in an individual you can best them every time.  “Exactly,” Erwin agrees with me as he pushes the books we’ve been studying away from us. “So what could the royals and nobles be hiding from us?”  At that, I’m stumped and shrug my shoulders. Erwin deflates with me, almost like he was expecting me to actually have the answer to that question.  He does think I’m a noble, maybe the idiot thinks I have some secrets.   It wouldn’t shock me to discover that he wants to use me for something. He’s clearly working against the nobility in some regard, and I’m sure having a noble on his side could be beneficial. But if he thinks I’m going to be some grand advantage, he’s surely mistaken. I’m nothing more than a good fighter and decent thief.  “I think we’ve covered enough for today,” Erwin redirects the conversation suddenly. Moving to restack the books and parchment we’ve been using all afternoon.

Consider the Tags below as both a Hello, but also How are you all doing?

@aristocratic-otter @aroace-genderfluid-sheep @artsyunderstudy @bazzybelle @bookish-bogwitch @buffy @captain-aralias @confused-bi-queer @cutestkilla @ebbpettier @erzbethluna @facewithoutheart @fatalfangirl @foolofabookwyrm-activated @gekkoinapeartree @hushed-chorus @ic3-que3n @ivelovedhimthroughworse @ileadacharmedlife @ionlydrinkhotwater @j-nipper-95 @johnwgrey @krisrix @larkral @martsonmars @letraspal @moodandmist @mostlymaudlin @onepintobean @palimpsessed @prettylightsbigcity @raenestee @shrekgogurt @skeedelvee @stardustasincocaine @stitchyqueer @tea-brigade @theimpossibledemon @thewholelemon @wellbelesbian @whogaveyoupermission @you-remind-me-of-the-babe

[knightobreath]

I am once again reminded you are a real human being

My bad gang I’m sorry

Do not let them get to you

compiling these 3 specifically because theyre all probably about the fact that i said i was tired of getting intentionally trollish asks, so let me explain myself a bit more xP. its a lot because i love to talk

you guys shouldnt be too sorry! i did intentionally encourage these a few times, especially during the #mod 🫒's purgatory thing. because well, as a part of what i do on my blogs and streams I am a clown. i intentionally play as a sort of over-exaggerated feed-the-trolls fool because i think it makes me funnier. but the main issue is that I didn't set a proper boundary between intentionally goofy oliver and genuine human being oliver. This is a direct consequence of having everything be on my personal blog and not relegated to sperate spaces.

the sheer volume of asks ive been getting lately has made keeping up difficult and well. guys im kind of tired of answering nonsense or trollish asks. i'm not witty enough! i'm out of jokes! i've been riffing off of anons every day for like a month! and it is my fault for not just deleting stuff but i do appreciate when you guys want to joke around with me

okay. uh here is the part that is the Straws that Broke the Camel's Back. I can't tell when you guys are joking anymore. I can't gauge how much of the anon "hate" is jokes and how much of it is genuine. I can only tell for sure if it's like my friend saying it. If it isn't clear to me that a friend sent in an ask, it reads as if a stranger sent it. And I can't tell if a stranger is being genuine or not because I don't know you. a key example is the person who said something along the lines of "of course you're a skeleton if you're a vegetarian" which didn't read as a friendly jab but rather a stranger making assumptions about my diet to blame me for my body issues. i assume the anon just saw that those were both things the funny ask answering guy was talking about so they were free game for making fun of. kind of my fault though because as i said, there isnt enough of a boundary between when im being comedic and when i'm being genuine.

so like. tldr in conclusion i love receiving and answering asks and I did sort of have this policy of responding to Every Single One that I just can't do anymore and now I'm suffering from the horrible affliction that is "Bit That's Gone On For Way To Long" with a side effect of not wanting to go back on my word. and now that i actually want to be Real on Main people are going to try and bring it back to jokingly antagonizing me not realizing that it just becomes actual antagonizing when it's not about something i consider a joke. so im just gonna place down some boundaries

streams are a good time to send in silly asks, im in bit mode for that

i also dont take anything seriously on the oscc but please dont bother the other mods about it

im not responding to every ask anymore. Lol. if i cant think of anything funny its going into the void

might also start blocking anons who say shit that is Weird ! no more taking literally everything in good faith

you guys can still send silly asks i just want you to like. roll it back on the whole jokingly being mean to me thing. friends are exempt of course just make it clear that its YOU and not Internet Stranger #66951284

anyways love yall but also i dont know yall. or. most of yall. i accept the anon's apology👍

[ninetiescoppola]

SINGLE, SO WHAT?

A few months ago I went to my long term orthodontist. I have known her since I was fourteen, we gossip and tell stuff about our lives, just girls being girly. But this time that I left her office I almost had a little stroke for two things, one because she said “you must be really sad without a boyfriend” and the second was because I would have to wear braces again. I didn’t say a word, just nodded my head (for both phrases). On my way home I started to think: when a relationship could save me from my depression? 

My whole life I never had a healthy relationship. At first I thought that the problem was me, but then a few months apart I could see the awful and ugly truth (and when I say ugly I mean literally). When I look back and see those old mistakes I get chills, feel immediately nauseous and have a little voice in my head saying “what the hell were you thinking?”, but then the same thing happens over and over again every year, it’s like a cycle with no end. This year I decided that something had to change, so I chose celibacy… Or almost. Just a short break from men. Not having a crush on somebody is the most amazing feeling in the world. I feel that I could make the new Miss Dior commercial just to show how light and fresh I am. 

I kinda feel guilty for never having a serious boyfriend. I'm always so delusional and sensitive about everything that I totally ignore the walking red flags. It's like I was blind to all the bad traits and only be able to see things that you find fantastic at first, but then you realize that it was the bare minimum and you feel like a complete idiot for the rest of your life. I remember that this happened with my first boyfriend. I was a fifteen year old freshman in high school and we had the same classes. If the time machine were created today I would turn back just to slap myself on the face several times until my younger self gives up the idea of dating that creep. Oh, I forgot to tell the story… In summary, we dated for two months and he lied, cheated, treated me like shit and humiliated me in front of my friends. Turns out that actually he was dating my best friend at the time who moved from Chile. I found that out a few weeks later after we broke up on a facebook post. I felt crushed. For months I thought that was my fault because I wasn’t good, pretty or smart enough to be his girlfriend. And one day I realized that life took back something that clearly wasn’t good for me. It was not worth it. I had to get through all of that shit to see how amazing I was. A year after they broke up too. 

As I said before, I have always been a delulu or a Charlotte York kind of girl. I don't know if it's because I have too much pisces on my birth chart or if it's because I'm just a f-ing fool. Always idealizing the perfect guy with the perfect traits and the perfect personality. I understand that everyone has flaws but why does life keep sending me people with JUST flaws? C’mon universe I expected more from you!

After a while, I stopped searching for the ideal guy and started focusing on myself. All those years being a men's carpet I had decided that a makeover would be perfect: eight hours in a hairdresser’s salon, thousands of bucks on clothes and lots of skincare products later, I became a new person. And then I found my true perfect match: a credit card.

Having a boyfriend is really nice, but enjoying your own company and not owing nothing to anyone can be truly fantastic. I had to learn that the hardest way. Every weekend I enjoy a very caloric treat, sit my big ass on the couch and watch a movie or a whole season of a TV show in a row. After all, I rather suffer for not being some hot actor’s girlfriend than suffer for a stupid asshole who is proud to think that having a dick is a sign of dignity (hot boyfriend of the month: Nicholas Chavez).

[sinkingaboutyou]

Dear Halsey ✮⋆˙

I've been part of many fandoms ── started out with the Spice Girls. Couldn't go anywhere without my big ass shoes and space buns. Couldn't shut up about them ever. I wanted to be Ginger Spice so fucking bad I told everyone they should call me Geri "from now on" and turns out, "from now on" went on for years.

I then moved on to the Backstreet Boys, then Leonardo Dicaprio, Charmed, Britney Spears, anything Moulin Rouge. I wanted to be Rose and save Jack from the icy cold water ── wanted to be Satine and escape Paris with my poet lover ── wanted to hunt demons with the Winchester brothers ── wanted to be a Slytherin ── wanted to help Frodo destroy the ring -and make out with Legolas, I admit ── truth be told, I can't even think of a period in my life where I wasn't a fan or viscerally obsessing over something.

And somewhere along the way, right between my 1D and KPOP era, there you were ── and I never felt the same connection with an artist prior to this. I never looked at you as an idol or some mystic, unattainable creature. You came into my life precisely when I needed it and showed me it was okay to be myself and to own it. Badlands became the soundtrack of my life, I cut my hair short, dyed it a crazy color and felt more alive than ever. Still, I wasn't obsessing over you. I loved to watch videos and listen to your music but my relationship with you was never one you typically expect from a fan to their idol.

You make me happy. You make me feel like I can be anything, anyone and just roll with it without a care in the world. Your words heal me. Your voice soothes me and I have nothing but a genuine love and admiration for the human behind these words, the person behind the glitters and fantastic shows.

I was ✮⋆˙ so lucky ✮⋆˙ to see you in Paris on Februrary 2020. My first and only Halsey show, right before the world turned to shit and locked us all down. Camped all day just to see you front row, not only because I'm pocked sized and can't expect to see shit if I'm not literally standing front row, but because I felt like I needed to see you from up close. To see the human. The person I admire, not only a silhouette from afar.

That night was the most memorable, fantastic night of my entire life. I couldn't help but feel the intimacy, the closeness, the efforts you put to make every person in the crowd matter even for a second. It literally blew my mind. I don't think I ever properly recovered.

Today, I'm sad. I'm sad to see how poorly you're being treated by so-called fans. I was already upset months ago while witnessing people's behavior ── how they gave you shit for being silent, for the lack of music release, for promoting your make up brand instead of being on stage ── I was never one to interact or take part in any sort of hatred debate because I know I can vomit words to the speed of light and waste too much energy on people who aren't worth it. But still ── it was hard to digest, hard to read, hard to step back and take a deep breath so I wouldn't snap at people treating you like nothing but the King's Fool whose purpose is to entertain the crowd only.

Of course, knowing what you were going through during all of this only adds bitterness to this situation ── I wish people would see the human first. I wish people would realize you were always there for us, how you handwrote actual letters to some fans (god knows I would die for that) ── how you literally bled out on stage just so you wouldn't cancel a show when any mundane person would take days off work to deal with such a traumatic experience. I wish they would realize you never treated this, treated US as a job. You're one of the only artists out there who remains genuine and always speaks their truth ── even the ones that hurt so fucking bad ── and still, it never seems to be enough to these people.

I'm sad you regret coming back, because I was genuinely the happiest to see you active and excited to release some music again. But mostly, I was happy to have my favorite person back.

I want nothing more but for you to be happy and I hope you know, for every 10 disrespectful, ungrateful meanies, there's at least one person who loves you a hundred times more than they ever will.

If this letter ever finds you, just know this one thing ──

Je t'aime et je suis en vie grâce à toi ♡

[perspectivestarters]

Perspective's Sentence Starters; GUTS by Olivia Rodrigo (Part II)

LOGICAL

God, you're so good at what you do.

I'd put myself through hell for you.

I fell for you like water falls from the February sky.

No, I couldn't get out if I tried.

It was all in my mind.

I'm the love of your life.

No, love is never logical.

You built a giant castle with walls so high I couldn't see.

And all the things you did to me...

The sky is green, the grass is red, and you mean all those words you said.

I'm sure that girl is really your friend.

Our problems are all solvable.

Loving you is loving every argument you held over my head.

You brought up the girls you could have instead.

Said I was too young, I was too soft.

Said I can't take a joke, can't get you off

Oh, why do I do this?

I know I'm half responsible and that makes me feel horrible.

I know I could've stopped it all.

God, why didn't I stop it all?

GET HIM BACK!

I met a guy in the summer, and I left him in the spring.

He argued with me about everything.

He had an ego and a temper and a wandering eye.

He said he's six-foot-two, and I'm like, "Dude, nice try".

He was so much fun.

He had such weird friends.

He would take us out to parties, and the night would never end

When hе said something wrong, he'd just fly me to Francе.

I miss him some nights when I'm feeling depressed.

I remember every time he made a pass on my friend.

Do I love him? Do I hate him? I guess it's up and down.

I wanna get him back.

I wanna make him really jealous.

I wanna make him feel bad.

I really miss him, and it makes me real sad.

I want sweet revenge.

I write him all these letters.

I miss the way he kisses and the way he made me laugh.

Everyone knew all of the shit that he'd do.

He said I was the only girl, but that just wasn't the truth.

When I told him how he hurt me, he'd tell me I was trippin'.

I am my father's daughter.

Maybe I could fix him.

I wanna key his ca.

I wanna make him lunch.

I wanna break his heart, then be the one to stitch it up.

Wanna kiss his face with an uppercut.

I wanna meet his mom just to tell her her son sucks.

I'll get him back.

I'm gonna get him so good, he's not even gonna know what hit him.

He's gonna love me and hate me at the same time.

Get him back, girl.

You better get him back!

I got him really good.

LOVE IS EMBARRASSING

I told my friends you were the one after I'd known you, like, a month.

Then you kissed some girl from high school?

I stayed in bed for, like, a week when you said space was what you need.

Waited by my phone like a goddamn fool.

Now it don't mean a thing.

God, love's fuckin' embarrassing.

Watch as I crucify myself for some weird second string loser who's not worth mentioning.

I consoled you while you cried over your ex-girlfriend's new guy.

My God, how could I be so stupid?

You found a new version of me and I damn near startеd World War III.

Jesus, what was I even doing?

I give up everything.

I placed my bets, and it's not worth anything.

I keep coming back for more.

I'm planning out my wedding with some guy I'm never marrying.

THE GRUDGE

I have nightmares each week.

One phone call from you and my entire world was changed.

Took everything I loved and crushed it in between your fingers.

I doubt you ever think about the damage that you did.

I hold onto every detail like my life depends on it.

My undying love, now, I hold it like a grudge.

I hear your voice every time that I think I'm not enough.

I try to be tough, but I wanna scream.

How could anybody do the things you did so easily?

You know I can't let it go.

I've tried for so long.

It takes strength to forgive, but I don't feel strong.

The arguments that I've won against you in my head.

I fantasize about a time you're a little fuckin' sorry

I try to understand why you would do this all to me.

You must be insecure, you must be so unhappy.

We both drew blood, but, man, those cuts were never equal.

Do you think I deserved it all?

You built me up to watch me fall.

You have everything, and you still want more.

But even after all this, you're still everything to me.

I know you don't care, I guess that that's fine.

It takes strength to forgive, but I'm not quite sure I'm there yet.

PRETTY ISN'T PRETTY

I bought a new prescription to try and stay calm.

There's always somethin' missing.

There's always somethin' in the mirror that I think looks wrong.

When pretty isn't pretty enough, what do you do?

I'd always feel the same.

Pretty isn't pretty enough anyway.

You can win the battle, but you'll never win the war.

You fix thе things you hated, and you'd still feel so insecure.

I try to ignorе it, but it's everything I see.

It's on the poster on the wall, it's in the shitty magazines.

It's in my phone, it's in my head, it's in the boys I bring to bed.

I don't know why I even try.

I bought all the clothes that they told me to buy.

I chased some dumb ideal my whole fucking life.

None of it matters.

You just feel like shit over and over again.

It'll never change.

TEENAGE DREAM

When am I gonna stop being wise beyond my years and just start being wise?

When am I gonna stop being a pretty young thing to guys?

When am I gonna stop being great for my age and just start being good?

When will it stop being cool to be quietly misunderstood?

Got your whole life ahead of you.

I fear that they already got all the best parts of me.

I'm sorry that I couldn't always be your teenage dream.

When does wide-eyed affection and all good intentions start to not be enough?

When will everyone have every reason to call all my bluffs?

When are all my excuses of learning my lessons gonna start to feel sad?

Will I spend all the rest of my years wishing I could go back?

They all say that it gets better.

It gets better the more you grow.

But what if I don't?

[workingmyheartaway]

Me trying to blog. Idk if anybody will even see this.

I think I’m the most pathetic person alive, there was this guy I heard about from my sister growing up and I finally shot my shot with him and he used me for sex throughout my younger years. I’ve always been slightly achey over him. He reminded me of myself to a level I can’t explain his birthday is the day before mine and we had the same demeanor. He became an addict like me and we both got sober but when he got sober he got fit and he got a really big ego. Me and him started talking again. And I can’t even express to you how magical it was, it started as a phone call and then it became everyday. I had just left an abusive relationship so I was stand off ish trying not to put too much of myself in it or be too much but everyday more and more he begged me and spent so much time and effort into assuring. Me that he did care about me and I could trust him. I thought since he was making as much effort as he did that it was safe. I was so fucking happy I woke up every morning to the sweetest fucking text messages and when I went and saw him he looked at me in a way no man had ever. He handled me with care the way nobody had ever touched me. I thought everything was perfect. But I was driving three hours to see him and I started to realize that he wasn’t making that drive for me ya know. Idk it got in my head and I started to notice that everyday he was getting kinda shorter. But he still was texting me sweet things and he was texting me a lot and everyday. He was my best friend above all I told him things I’d never told anybody and he did the same. He was understanding and caring. But then I found out I was pregnant. I panicked for weeks and the whole time he was calm and almost excited. Then one day I woke up to a message saying he loved me and could see a future with me. We picked out names for the baby and he assured me everything. Would be okay. I tried not to love him something deep down told me it wasn’t safe but I failed and he became so much to me. The very next morning after he told me he loved me I woke up to a text saying he just wanted to be co parents and he didn’t think he ever meant what he said he told me he didn’t think he ever liked me. It broke me to read that and know that I would now be without him so I relapsed. And I made a complete fool of myself. I begged for him to care about me and when he said he could t and didn’t want to do it anymore I told him to stop existing out of my life and never try to be a father…. He took me seriously. I’ve been blocked on everything for over a month. I’ve texted him from different apps updating him on the baby like he originally wanted I know that’s crazy of me but idk I just feel like he should know. I got a job serving and have spent every second trying to work my heart out and forget about him but lately I’ve had a few hours taken away due to overtime and I can’t get him off my mind I want to let him go so fucking bad. I always think I’m over it but then when the world slows down something inside me deeply aches physically I miss him so gd bad it takes my breathe away then I start to realize he shouldn’t have meant this much because I never meant anything to him. I forgot to add that a week after this went down and I was in mid relapse I got a message from a mutual friend where his location showed up in my town. The only other person he knows that lives here is his ex he never made that drive for me but he did for her and my for did that make me feel so worthless. I hate him but I don’t. Idk what to do or how to let go, I’ve been trying to replace him I know that’s not the answer but I can’t even find anybody I’m attracted to anymore… I can’t hold a conversation with anybody or care about them. I don’t care about anything anymore and idk what to do. I’ve never been so close to giving up as I am over a guy that never even gave a fuck about me. He used me once again and I fell for it I didn’t have enough respect for myself to see his intentions. Idk what to do and I’m scared that he ruined me for life.

[naffeclipse]

Hi, hi!

So... what if I have more thoughts? XD

I just keep thinking about the reveal and how things might be from now on kjghdfkhlj

Like, ahhh, just the getting used to the new normal now that the cat's out of the bag ( or the demon out of the animatronic? XD) First of all there's probably gonna be a talk (if more pressing matters don't arise dfksjgjh) Y/n understandably wants so many answers and I just keep wondering what they will ask first. They still seem very unsure on what to believe, even if they seem more used to the idea that their friend really is a demon. There's of course gonna be that bit about who the boys have killed, but also I see them questioning every part of the last months. The hunter seems to have started accepting the idea that Eclipse really does want to stay with them, but also it wouldn't be strange for doubts (spurred by their previous experience with a demon, and the recent encounter with Shoh) to keep coming back and maybe they'll wonder once in a while when the demon will get tired of them and kill them after all.

I wonder if they will look back to everything they have done and ask themselves what parts of it where a lie. They do not really know or trust that Sun and Moon never lied to them, since their whole stay with them has been revealed to have been less than honest (by omission), so I just think about all those doubts, and things that might make them question their relationship. Were they really with kids when the doppleganger attacked the first night, or where they hunting someone? Did the hunter ever put someone in danger by bringing them along? Did they know the danger they were putting them in by hiding the detector? When they decided to follow, were they planning at the start to just leave one day without warning after satiating their curiosity about the human in the forest?

But also I see the doubts becoming even more intense when directed at themselves. Maybe after the initial shock of this turn of events they will berate themselves harshly for missing this. They will throw out all the reasons they had for not seeing it and look at all the signs they dismissed. Lambert clocked them as a demon in like half a day with just 2 signs. They were traveling together for months. They knew what the detector said. Y/n knew what their instincts about the supernatural felt like and they ignored it. Every chill, every feeling of being watched. The refusal to answer any questions about their past as daycare bots, because they didn't have one.

And while I know all the boys felt was relief when they weren't discovered, I can only imagine that y/n might wonder if they were judging them (like they judge themselves now). What it must have looked like from the perspective of a powerful presence like a demon to go unnoticed by a so-called hunter. Fearing that it was amusing in their eyes that they defended the boys from all strangers that claimed they were unsettling, or when they were acting apologetic for pushing about their "traumatizing" experience with the pizza plex, or feeling foolish for trying to comfort them when the only one truly in danger and afraid (for their own life at least) was y/n. I can totally see them exchanging the "I'm not enough for them to feel safe and trust me" thoughts for something like "I am a blind idiot and was making a fool out of myself all this time" .

(Not that the boys would think any of the above, but y/n has a bad habit of swallowing their insecurities so they might need to coax those out of them in order to stop them from keeping that mentality)

And ooh, I'm so curious about how the dynamic is gonna move from here. Because now to the hunter, this must feel incredibly out of their hands. Before it was Sun and Moon, the double AI animatronic that had been lost in the forest after a tragic fire took their home away. They are smart, and strong and have some unique abilities due to their robotic nature, but they still were alone and y/n could relate to them on some level. Sure they were physically stronger and experts at taking care of others, but y/n must have felt on equal ground with them because they offered a home and company and care in return as well. A weird new relationship but one that could be based on mututal care and both parties bringing their own strengths to it.

To the hunter now it must feel so unbalanced.

They're still afraid of Eclipse on some level, which will take time to work through. Again the "there's no point in running" line! Even if they didn't feel like running, it's about feeling like they suddenly have so little power in all of this. Not like they ever felt like or even wanted to be someone that Sun and Moon considered their superior or anything, but the boys did make it clear that they would follow their lead. Follow in their hunts, and get used to their routine. It was always "so what are we doing next" and y/n would have the answer. Now they are faced with the fact that this demon can do whatever he damn well pleases. They say they won't but they could just kill them, They could just posses them. They could just take them anywhere they wanted. They have nearly no instruments to fight back and what they do have they wouldn't be able to do that much with by themselves. There might be a feeling of being incredibly small and that suddenly they don't have that much say in anything that is happening.

But ahhh this all just speculation of our dear hunter's inner future turmoil about how things are going XD I can't help but wanting to think about all the deepest and darkest fears and thoughts because I do love wondering about the angst kjdfhgñ

Of course, there's a whole episode left, and that might mean that a lot of these get pushed for later or maybe even a lot of these worries won't be able to arise before they will be proven wrong to the hunter by future events yet to come! Very excited to see what happens next!

(Obviously I don't expect confirmation of anything because spoilers haha, but thought you might find it interesting if I dumped all these thoughts here kdfjhgsñh)

Heya, babe!!!

Ahhh, I love where your mind is going because, boy, if there ain't a whole suitcase to unpack here for Y/N and the boys! Angst galore (with some hurt/comfort to follow behind of course ♥)

I don't want to confirm or deny anything, but I will say that there are consequences for Eclipse lying to them beyond the reveal, and it will be devastating.

Chaotik, I am always interested in your thoughts ♥

[thisismycorneroftheinternet]

Fucking how tf am I supposed to not feel like shit and always anxious if shit never fucking improves?? I am not that fucking self-deluded to fool myself into thinking this is still a good situation somehow. Yeah sure, there's always deeper in the hole, thank fuck I am not literally digging through the trash for bones to get some protein in my meals like the poor in this city that got featured in that grotesque, horror circus-style magazine story I remember reading about in the pandemic, but that sort of thought does not make life any easier when you're still having to rely on free food that takes you a total of 2h to get, per meal, and now donations from your sister's fiancee to get by the month.

And then yet I have to deal with my sister fucking throwing a hissy fit at any time I fucking complain about (1) thing, but also debase any fucking medical help I'm trying to get because apparently according to her, I'm not that bad off and should suck it the fuck up and "learn to manage (my) own stress better" while being completely unhelpful on that front besides telling me to meditate, which doesn't fucking solve shit??? And then she also gets mad when I have to whine and cry to our mother to not let her try to cut off our little assistance, because apparently that's begging and I should not be begging I should be demanding, when our parents are literally sinking into debt more and more and our mother can barely afford to pay the taxes for her freelance job??

Like, I'm going to fucking walk in on Tuesday to the health clinic, and update them on my deteriorating mental health, and it's going to fucking be the same fucking old adage of "you should exercise for your anxiety, you should learn to organize yourself better, you should manage your ADHD without meds, you should stress less" which is so fucking unhelpful as well. Platitudes like that I already get from the fucking web as well, Instagram loves to fucking show me WellnessTM posts on the greatness of exercise and being thankful for life, why am I fucking taking hours of my day every other month to hear that as well from people I was trying to seek some sort of further help??

And like, in general, I feel like I am going circles, and nothing ever gets better, only worser and worser, and like, I am really grateful for my sister's fiancee's kindness, but like, I've been the entire month trying to not get to this. Yes, because it's humiliating, yes I'm fucking prideful and I feel like I am an able enough adult that I should not need to depend on others' kindness to eat! But also because like, I am able enough to work, I have all sorts of skills, and I am more than fucking willing to do whatever it takes, but no one wants me regardless. And worse, it's pointless to seek a full-on job because university fucking gets in the way of everything, because I fucking switched to day classes because of my family's insistence, because I entered university in night classes originally and that offended them enough that they bothered me about it, and now I'm paying the price.

And then I talk to my one university friend, and she's like "yeah I'm struggling as well" and I try to commiserate with her, because that's what one does, it's like, I realize I'm struggling way more with way less than her. Yes, sure, she had to drop university twice, but also, she's doing 40h a week of classes, and undergrad research, and was sleeping like, 4h a night. No fucking wonder she snapped twice. Meanwhile I can barely get above 14h of credit/hours without flunking something, and even when I pass it's barely scraping by. How come she's being more seriously contemplated for ADHD and anxiety and all than I am?? I guess it's because I have to rely on the free clinic, while she's on her military daddy's insurance plan. God, I don't want to resent her, but I came so close to snapping at her in the group chat when she told me that she's struggling because she can barely sleep, and sure she's seeing stuff like I used to when I slept little, but she "just ignores it and it's fine!" while I used to be terrified I'd get killed by the fucking Balloon Boy from FNAF and shadow demons when I underslept.

God, fucking hell, I swear to fucking god, I am trying so fucking hard to act normal and be normal and not be a fucking mess but even that's hard and worsening my anxiety. And yet I don't get any help that sticks.