#me when i try and make myself as clear as humanly possible

[1seaweedbrain1]

"oh i love enemies to lovers i just hate when its toxic" so. you like. "you annoy me" to lovers. holding your hand but to be enemies there must be at least a little bit of toxicity.

"oh i just think when jimbob hit shmeebles it was abuse so they shouldnt be shipped :/" have you considered that they were on opposite sides of the plot conflict and everyone was hitting everyone? tends to happen in a fight.

my point here is that i think some of yall dont actually like enemies to lovers. and then you find a ship thats actually enemies to lovers. and you clutch your pearls bc "oh deary my theyre being mean to each other!" and then some of you try and "fix" the ship by taking away the fact that they did used to genuinely hate* each other which waters down the overall relationship dynamic.

*please note that hate is an emotion built on other emotions, the fact that they hate each other does not mean that they didnt also care for the other, you cant hate someone and not care about them. in a lot of these cases the hate is reenforced by them caring. which is where the "only i get to kill you" trope comes from.

[gonzo-rella]

Headcanons: Charlie Dalton, Neil Perry and Todd Anderson Taking Care of Their Sick S/O

MASTERLIST | AO3 | KO-FI

Relationship(s): Charlie Dalton x sick!gn!reader (romantic), Neil Perry x sick!gn!reader , Todd Anderson x sick!gn!reader (romantic)

Warnings: The reader has a cold so... yeah. Also, since I'm sick myself, my brain isn't really working at it's normal level so apologies for any mistakes! (Let me know if I need to add any)

(A/N: Unfortunately I'm still sick (it's only been a few days). Fortunately, I'm still motivated to write headcanons to get me through this relatively mild illness (and I'm starting to feel better)! I've got a Todd one-shot draft that I started a year ago and never got around to finishing, so here's my first offering to the Dead Poets Society fandom. I'd love to write more for it, both reader-insert and not. I'm not sure if I'll end up writing any more sick fics (I've already written hcs for Yellowjackets and Abed Nadir and Annie Edison from Community) since I should be better soon, but if you're still interested check out my fandom list and requesting info and feel free to send an ask!)

CHARLIE

Charlie will jokingly tell you that you’re disgusting.

If you’re not amused by that, he’ll awkwardly but sincerely apologise, his mortification thinly veiled.

He isn’t entirely sure what the hell to do to make you less sick.

(He'll have to consult his more medically knowledgeable friends for advice)

He will ask you if you want him to kiss it all better.

(And he will not hesitate to kiss you when you give him the go ahead)

Suffice it to say, he does not care all that much about getting sick himself.

(A small part of him hopes that he does get sick so you'll have to take care of him)

He will spend so much time with you, you’d think you were dying.

He will also get you anything you ask for (even if it has no clear use in making you physically better- he just wants to make you happy).

If his earlier attempt at joking doesn't work, he'll still persist in cracking jokes and making you laugh to make you feel better.

(If your laughter causes you to break out into a coughing fit, though, he will feel awful).

NEIL

Neil knows exactly what to do.

He may not like his dad's dream of him becoming a doctor, but damn he has such a knack for looking after you.

He makes sure you’re drinking enough fluids and taking any medicine you need to take.

No matter how disgusting you might get, Neil is completely unfazed the whole time.

If anything, he'll find it funny and try to keep you in as high spirits as possible.

If he does mind getting sick, he certainly doesn't show it.

For example, he doesn't hesitate when kissing you on the cheek or forehead.

He loves you so much that it really won’t matter to him if you can- or do- get him sick.

He’ll regularly ask you if there’s anything that you want or need, and if you’re comfortable, and if you’re too hot or cold.

It’s evident that he cares about you getting better.

He’ll sit at your bedside and try to take your mind off of how you’re feeling.

But, he will insist that you need to rest up, so when you’re asleep or trying to fall asleep he’ll be as quiet as humanly possible to make sure he doesn’t wake you up.

If he does end up waking you, he’ll feel terrible about it.

He’s so loving and caring anyway, but especially when you’re sick.

TODD

This guy is fucking terrified.

He assumes that anything he does will only make you sicker.

A small part of him is convinced you will die under his care.

So, he begs Neil for advice, and Neil humours him so that Todd doesn’t drive himself nuts.

Todd will regularly ask you if you need something, and he’ll repeatedly offer you whatever Neil advised him about.

He’s also completely torn between his innate desire not to get himself sick, and his deep love and affection for you.

So, please don’t get upset with him if he recoils almost every time you cough and sneeze, because he does spend as much time as he possibly can at your bedside.

Speaking of which, Todd sits at your bedside like a loyal golden retriever.

He’ll hold your hand (internally panicking about your high temperature, of course) and place the occasional kiss on the back of it.

He’ll also read some of his poems, works in progress and completed, out to you, and he’ll make sure to pick plenty that are about you specifically.

Sure, he’s nervous, but you love his poetry and all he wants to do is reduce how terrible you feel.

[hearts4werka]

Missing

Summary: it’s been six months since your sister went missing, everyone gave up on the investigation but you’re determined to find her no matter what but someone comes along the way… Genre: ANGST first person pov, Stalker, missing person, thriller, horror, crime investigation, dark aesthetic, stalker romance, double pov, b&e, unexpected visitor, dark themes, Warnings: breaking in, abuse, use of weapons, being held hostage, ?depression?, mental health issues, swearing, pet names (little monster), skin bruising, fighting, ?suggestive content?, traumatizing, possibly trigging subjects, ass content ahead and ofc Read At Your Own Risk!

This is part 4 of the 'Missing' series!

🤍 - Rosalla's POV

I wish she was here with me.

Memories of me and her flood my mind like a tsunami hitting a building, all of the moments I'll cherish for all of my life, with or without her. I've cried over her multiple time since her disappearance and I have to get my shit together and figure out how to report that stalker of mine to the police again, I still cannot believe that my stalker have gone to the point to break into my house and do unspeakle acts between my legs.

My mind keeps on denying the fact that I possibly enjoyed the acts he has done, I havent been able to feel safe in my own house for these past months ever since. Today though the feeling seems to be intensified as I constantly feel a pair of eyes following my every move like everyday but they feel like they're coming closer to me.

I gaze around my surroundings, my mind trying to make me think im not actually going insane and that there is something lurking in the shadows of my own house, before I could get completely dragged into the dark shadows of my mind it has created my cat Willow comes up purring, petting herself on my leg and silently demaning some sustenance in the form of cat food.

A soft chuckle rumbles in my throat at her clear attention seeking attitude, finding it slightly adorable as I rise from my seat and my feet slide over the tile floor under them as I travel into the kitchen. I squat down and take the cat's food bowl into my hand but a simple ring of the front door doorbell catches me off guard as I am not expecting anyone currently nor any packages.

Confusion contours my facial features as my eyes move towards the front door where the noise is coming from, maybe a possible unexpected guest decided to visit my household today? but who could it be? questions begin to rise in my already spiraling mind which only overweighs the other thoughts stuck inside of my head.

I stand up onto my feet and make my way towards the door with upkept caution to not let the person on the other side of the door know that I am trying to figure out who it could be, making as less noise as it is humanly possible in the moment ive been placed in right now, checking through the peephole I dont find what ive expected to be on the other side.

Twisting the house key in the keyhole of the door and grabbing ahold of the doorhandle I swing it open and scan my eyes around the surrounding nature on the front porch and find once again nothing and am only met with my black doormat with "Welcome!" written across it in white bold letters.

My anxiety rises onto a higher level than it was already on before with the growing questions slowly starting to cloud my mind alongside the shadows, I walk back to my living room and notice Willow ran off somewhere and isnt near me anymore, not thinking much about it when I finally find myself back in the living room i notice a strangely familiar man sitting on my couch with his body facing me and Willow snuggled into his lap as he pets her spine with his heavily tattoed arm.

My body instantly responds to the sudden intruder inside of my house by freezing inplace and refusing to move from my standing form, laborthed sharp breaths leave my mouth as I silently observe the surely unexpected guest inside of my house acting way to calm for my liking, not seeming like the hostile type and more on the kinder side which doesn’t make me feel better about this whole situation.

"Look who decided to join us, welcome Rosalla" He speaks in a calm, almost soothing tone while his gaze visibly runs up and down my frozen body as I notice a small smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth under the hood that’s currently concealing the upper half of his face.

As much as I would love to just rip that hood off his face and take Willow away from him I can’t move my body no matter how hard I try, it’s like my body turned into a stone statue in a museum in the section of Ancient Greece but the only thing is that I am in my house currently with what could have the possibility to be my stalker.

“W-who are you and what the fuck are you doing in my house?” I trip over my words as he suddenly rises from his seat and slowly makes steps closer towards me, I continue to stand in place with my mind becoming a bigger scramble and pleading for my body to move or do something rational and not just stand in place like a fucking idiot.

“Oh don’t worry, I’m not here to harm you in any way.” He calmly teased, I already could feel his hot breath hitting my skin and goosebumps growing all over my body. His slender form looms over me as the heavily tattooed arm reaches over and brushes against my chest before roughly grabbing my chin and making me look up at him.

“I’m going to enjoy ruining you, little monster.”

“Fuck you.”

“That as well.”

I roll my eyes at him and finally manage to make my first move, grabbing his hand and digging my nails into his inked skin to leave a mark as I push it away from my chin, freeing my face from his tight grasp and automatically taking a cautious step backwards.

"You're a sick bastard if you think I'll let you anywhere near me." I bite back, now slowly regaining back my confidence and movement capability, now running into the kitchen as he calls out from the hallway. “You’re running already? We haven’t even started the real fun yet.” I notice the slight venom between the ‘innocent’ words which makes a shiver run down my spine.

When he finally catches up to me in the kitchen I quickly open one of the drawers with all of the kitchen knifes residing inside of it and take one of the bigger ones out of it, holding it up for him to see and pointing the sharp tip of it in his direction for any possible protection I could get out of it, he stands infront of me on the other side of the kitchen island.

"Back off, bitch." I state with warning lacing my tone as my confidence rises more and the fear now lowering to a smaller level with a calming shiver washing over my body. The only reaction I manage to gauge out of him is a sinister laugh and his smirk intensifying in growth, as if he wasnt comprehending the fact that a kitchen knife resides in my hand.

"You're gonna try to fight me off with that? how cute." He mocks my choice of protection, as if he has anything on himself. He's helpless right now while the knife stays clutched in my hand, well if you discard the fact he has strong arms and could probably snap me in half with just a flick of his fingers which doesnt help with my already high anxiety level.

Before I get to think and appreciate I have the possible high ground in this situation he quickly makes his way towards me which makes me sprint out of the kitchen and back into the living room with him right on my ass behind me, suddenly as Im running away from him a strong calloused hand slams me into the nearby wall and the pain spreads across the whole upper part of my body, a line of curses leaves my mouth in one painful groan.

“You think you can run from me?” He mocks my attempt on trying to escape his wrath, the hand where the knife resided in is currently pinned against my back. The vice grip he has on my hand makes me drop the knife, it hitting the floor with a loud thud which makes me groan in the increase of the immense pain I already feel all over my body.

“You are mine and only mine, if any other men try to even get close to you. I won’t fucking hesitate to kill them and bury them in your backyard for a little reminder who you belong to.”

I try to wiggle my way out of the trap I’ve been placed in, squirming in pain as I feel multiple bruises growing and starting to adore the surface of my skin, and I was out here thinking I had the high ground in this situation against a man thats clearly way stronger, taller and surely has some tricks up his sleave when I have now none since my item for protection has now ended up on the floor and I cannot move to pick it up because of the position Im in.

Suddenly, I feel cold metal being pressed against the back of my head and the fear rises back inside of me as I realize what is currently being held against my head. My breathing becomes labored as he brings his face closer to my ear, his breath hot against the shell of my ear which sends a shiver running down my spine before whispering. “You look so adorable all scared and terrified.”

“I’m gonna call the police on you and they’ll put you finally where you belong.” I hiss through my gridded teeth, fear being evident in my voice which it seems only fuels him to continue through with his actions, the cold metal barrel sliding down my back and tapping the back of my thighs, asking for them to move apart but with how they’re trembling right now I doubt there are going to move in any moment.

“And you think they’ll believe any word you say about this? You can call them all you want but just know, you’ll never get rid of me, little monster.” A chuckle rumbles in his throat and escaping past his lips at my words, him mocking me once again and assuring me I’ll never be able to get rid of him. It’s already been over five months and I the police haven’t even found one trace of finding out this man’s identity and neither did I, he seems like just an everlasting shadow that’s just stuck in your mind that you can’t get rid of.

We hear the front doorbell ring and realization hits me, I remembered my best friend Nora was supposed to visit today to check in on my sanity and how I’m holding up. She visits me whenever she can borrow the time and she makes it her priority to see me atleast once every few days which I appreciate her for so much and can’t thank god that she decided to come at this rightful time.

Before I can realize it, the man releases me from his grasp and the cold gun is taken away from my body and I feel slight relief as my body slides against the wall and down onto the cold floor of my house as the doorbell rings again and we hear Nora call out my name form behind the door. “Hey Ro, you good in there? I heard fighting inside.”

As soon as the front door cracks opens and Nora steps foot into the house, the man is gone. No trace left behind of him, only me sitting on the floor and clutching my body as if it would fall apart if I let go. Nora immediately runs up to my trembling form and envelops me into her warm arms, her face contoured with confusion as she finally speaks up.

“What the fuck happened here?”

@hearts4werka

authors note: omfg the end is so rushed and I’m so so sorry that y’all needed to wait so long for this but I’ve been focused on some of the other fics and my mind was so empty when I was writing this so some sentences might repeat, I hope the wait was worth it but I kinda doubt it. Luv y’all so much

& love and peace, V

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[silentglassbreak]

Fragmented

Noah Sebastian x OFC

Please don’t hate me…but it’s gonna get worse. 😬

Warnings: Nothing crazy, just a lot of wanting to rip your own hair out.

+It goes without saying. This is a work of fiction. My words are mine. Plagiarism is a crime.

Taglist: @flowery-mess @lma1986 @myownthoughts12 @poisongirl616 @missduffsblog @reidsblessing @malerieee @jilliemiw86

Part 3 - Drowning

One thing I’ve always prided myself on, is my innate ability to avoid an issue as long as humanly possible. Maybe that’s not a good thing? Maybe it’s just delaying an inevitable issue? That being said, in this particular situation, my problem was a person, and her name was Rachel.

So, naturally, I was avoiding her like the mother fucking plague.

I’m only a human, and a man, at that. I am not blind, I see the issue at hand. I’m attracted to her. And that’s a fucking problem. I could go down the list of reasons why that is a problem, and I have, hundreds of times, over the last three days. However, I decided very quickly after our last encounter that the best possible option was to keep a wide enough distance, not be obvious about it, and survive until I made it back to California and in the arms of the only person I know can make the problem disappear.

I had this plan, and although, with all of my certainty, I knew that it’s not the best one, to see Mileena after the show in San Diego, and have some very serious PDA in front of everyone.

Now, that wasn’t out of the norm for Leena and I, as it was pretty clear to everyone that we were wild for each other. So badly that the other members of our group were sometimes uncomfortable by it.

Then, once I had Mileena to myself, before I allowed anything fun to happen, I would tell her.

I would tell her about Rachel; my giving her a ride home, her answering the door nearly naked, inviting me in to her room.

Might leave out the part where I jerked off to her face, and body, and black boy shorts that barely covered her.

That was what I would take to my grave.

So, imagine my chagrin when Rachel spent the three days following the excursion trying to fucking corner me.

It started with a text I woke up to.

Rachel: Noah…can we talk?

Absolutely not.

The next text came once we were on the bus, and I was safely locked into my bunk.

Rachel: Are you asleep?

Yup.

Then, once we made it to the venue in Atlantic City, and were finishing up the M&G, the next one came.

Rachel: Noah, I really need to talk to you before the show. It’s important.

I sent Nick to go find her, to see if it was a tech issue. I hardly felt like I could handle that again, with all of this other nonsense swirling around in my head. It wasn’t, and she asked where I was.

Nick, none the wiser, sent her to the green room. When I saw the door open, a flash of blonde hair behind it, I slipped into the bathroom.

I heard her sigh heavily, and then the next text came in. This one gave me pause.

Rachel: Well, clearly you’re avoiding me, so I guess I’ll just text you. I just wanted to tell you that I am so fucking sorry. I wish I could say I don’t know what came over me, but I do. Alcohol and absolute insanity. Noah, please believe me when I tell you that I know you are in a relationship, and respect the hell out of that. What happened last night will never happen again. I just don’t want this to ruin our friendship or work relationship. Hopefully this text makes you open to talking after the show.

By this time, I had long since turned my read receipts off, and just stared at the message.

I almost replied. Almost. But, my sane mind taking over, slipped my phone back into my pocket instead.

We didn’t stay at a hotel. Rather, we showered at the venue, and were back on the road within two hours after the show had ended. We had an painfully long drive back to San Diego, so we had to get moving fast.

I laid in my bunk, headphones blasting Sleep Token’s latest album, and was feverishly texting Leena.

I had hoped she hadn’t picked up on my extra-neediness since the night prior, and just chalked it up to me being homesick.

Leena: Addie is walking more. She took twelve straight steps today without falling down!

Me: Oh FUCK YEAH. My little fucking rockstar!

Leena: She misses you so much.

Me: I miss her too. I miss you both more than life itself. But after SD, I’m done touring for at least six months. Probably will never tour again so I don’t miss you guys so much.

Leena: Oh you’re so cute when you lie.

I couldn’t tell if the text was cold or not?

Me: I’m serious. I can’t do this shit without you guys. I’m missing so many of Addie’s milestones.

Leena: We’ll see baby. And I’ll see you tomorrow. I’ve got to get some sleep. I love you, Noah.

Me: I love you more, Leena.

Leena: Promise?

Me: Always.

I had been catching up on the newest season of Stranger Things when I noticed the bus was quiet. I checked the time and saw it was nearly 3AM. I heard and felt no movement about the hallway, so I carefully slid my bunk door open, and hopped out. I was dying for some water and had to pee something fierce.

I froze coming to the end of the hall, noticing a blue light emitting from the couch in the front. I realized quickly it was Folio, and took a relieving breath. I approached him, but he didn’t acknowledge me.

“Hey, late night?” He was staring at his laptop screen, clicking away at the keys.

“Mmm.” Was the only response I received.

I decided disturbing him was probably not the best idea, so I slipped into the bathroom silently. When I stepped back into the hall, he was no longer seated, and was standing at the fridge with the door open.

“I think Nick ate my fucking lunchable.”

I snorted, reaching in next to him for a water bottle. “Probably.”

I cracked the cap and took a long pull. Folio eventually closed the door with a huff, and looked directly at me.

“So,” His eyes were oddly serious, not something I see much in Nick Folio. I raised an eyebrow.

“So?”

“Are you and Rachel just not speaking anymore, or…?”

I felt my heart drop down into my feet, my stomach simultaneously wrapping in a tight knot.

“What do you mean?” I kept myself cool.

“Well, she’s been asking for you, and we keep sending her your way, but she somehow never seems to find you?” His voice had a deadly evenness to it that made my skin crawl. Unless he lived in my brain, what the fuck could he possibly know?

“Well, it was a busy day.” I took another swig of my water to hopefully hide my uneasiness.

He pursed his lips and narrowed his eyes. “Yeah? I guess.”

I nodded, hoping that was the end of it. Until he spoke again.

“You guys seemed friendly at the club the other night.”

That was it. Put a bullet between my fucking eyes.

Despite all of my efforts to hide the absolute terror I felt, I knew instantly that it was showing through. He raised his brows in response.

I tried to answer, but choked a little on the residual water in my mouth. I cleared my throat and closed the bottle.

“I just gave her a ride, dude.”

Nick eyed me from head to toe, not buying it.

“Yeah? Cause she seemed real sure about what was going to go down that night. Then you disappeared for an hour.”

My eyes blasted open. “What did you just say?”

Folio tossed his hands up in defense to my sharp tone. “Listen man, I’m no snitch. Not saying I’m going to go crying to Leena about it, but you may not want to shit where you sleep - you get me?”

My jaw had hit the floor, broken through the bottom of the bus, and was tearing along the Indiana asphalt beneath us,

“Folio, you’ve fucking lost it, dude!” He shook his head in amusement, clearly not believing me. “Nothing fucking happened with Rachel! I gave her a fucking ride. That’s it!”

My voice rose, so I instantly brought it back down, not wanting to alert the six other people sleeping.

He nodded then, his body language changing slightly. “Yeah?” He put his hand out to me, fist pushed forward. “On God?”

I bumped his fist. “On God, Buddha, Odin, or whatever other deity. Nothing fucking happened.”

He sighed. “Okay. I believe you dude.” I sighed in relief. “But Noah?” I glanced back up at his face. “If you’re telling the truth, then you should know, she said some pretty graphic shit about you at the bar. Claiming she had you wrapped around her finger, and she could get you into bed. Even with Mileena in the picture.” He glanced knowingly down the bus hallway.

“Watch out for that, dude. I thought Rachel was cool. I might’ve even had a thing for her. But hearing the way she talked about you? Something ain’t right.”

-

The salty, warm air of San Diego wrapped its arms around us as we stepped off of the bus at the hotel. It was refreshing, being so close to the finish line. Aside from my own bout of homesickness, I could see the guys were exhausted, and we were all ready for the post-tour coma, and being in the comfort of our own homes.

The hotel check-in process was tedious. Rachel stood at the counter, handing out keys as the attendant handed them to her.

“Nick.” He snatched his and walked back over to where I stood, waiting. “Folio.”

He took his card without looking at her. Something told me he was a little more than salty about this entire debacle.

“Jolly.” Only one left. “And, Noah.”

When my fingers took the key, her head whipped over and her eyes pierced up at me. I averted my gaze, plucking the card out of her hand, and intended to head to my room immediately.

“Hey! Who let these misfits in here?!”

Everyone’s heads whipped around, looking for the source of the voice. Her eyes were the first thing I caught, a day-breaking smile tearing across my face.

Mileena and Laura were walking through the lobby, waving at us. As soon as Mileena saw me, she broke out in a run. She always did when we were away for so long. It was one of her hopeless romantic traits that I indulged in at every opportunity.

I immediately unshouldered my backpack and began jogging toward her. Her body slammed into mine with only a force she could accomplish. My arms instinctively wrapped around her, securing her right into place against my chest.

I immediately got a face full of her midnight black hair, the scent invading my senses. She smelled like rose hips, fresh brewed coffee, Addison, and home. An overwhelming sense of ease washed over my skin.

Jesus fucking Christ, I love this girl.

She pulled herself back far enough to press her face against mine, her lips mashing mine in a frantic attempt to get as close as possible. My own fought back, nipping her bottom lip, before hers turned up into a smile.

“Thank fuck. I have been dying.” I croaked out.

Setting her feet on the ground, her arms snaked around my midsection, between the lapels of my jacket, burying the side of her face into my chest.

“Not as bad as I have.” Her words were a mumble.

“Look, we get it. You love each other. All star-crossed and shit.” We turned to look at Folio, who was smirking. “But do the rest of us get any love?”

She pulled away from me then, quickly wrapping Folio in an airtight hug. “Ah, I missed you too, punk.”

He chuckled at her and let her go. She made her rounds, even giving Rachel a one-armed embrace, which is when I noticed the look of humiliation on her freckled-face. Standing against Leena, my brain seemed to snap right back into place.

There was no contest. Mileena was stunning. Drop fucking dead mouthwatering. Rachel was…not.

After she made her way back over to me, I slung an arm easily over her shoulders, pulling her close enough to press a soft kiss on the top of her head.

“I thought you guys weren’t coming until tonight?” Nick was standing questionably close to Laura, which caught my eye immediately.

The latter shrugged, and pointed to Leena. “She showed up at my house at 9AM, insisting we leave sooner.”

“Best decision, honestly.” Was all I added.

We all began our trek toward the elevators, stepping in together. My room was on the second floor, so Leena and I stood at the front.

“Guys, I, uh, get you haven’t seen each other in three months, but,” Jolly’s voice was awkward. “we’ve only got like an hour until we have to head to the venue for sound check.”

The doors opened, and I nodded to my friend, acknowledging him. I then turned my head back to my girl, now standing outside the elevator, and flashed her a devilish grin.

“You better fucking run.”

-

Mileena has this way of moaning, and I can’t exactly describe how this is even possible, that sends a legitimate shiver up my spine. It’s chemical, the way her voice raises pitch and cracks at the end. How sometimes it’s my name rolling off her tongue, or just an incomprehensible noise, that makes me coil up and breath ragged. She has me by my fucking hair, and shows no signs of letting up.

Her eyes are always so wet, pleasure-soaked tears spilling down her cheeks, when she’s looking up at me whenever I’m burying myself inside of her.

She looks at me, not like she loves me, but like she knows me. Like she needs me. Like I’m the entire fucking universe and she is just spinning helplessly in some uneven orbit. It’s fucking unbelievable.

So when I finally reach my end, and am collapsed on top of her, fighting for air, I’m also peppering soft, affectionate kisses on her neck while she giggles tiredly.

“You’ve been so warm and fuzzy lately. I’m into it.”

I snicker into her skin, blowing warm air across her throat. “Can you blame me? I’m fucking obsessed with you.”

She sat up slowly, pulling herself away from me.

“And I, you, my love.” She stood off the bed, eyes searching the floor for her panties. “It just kind of came on suddenly. You sure you’re okay?”

She was concerned, which caused a lead brick to form in my gut. It’s guilt. I feel guilty.

“I mean, I’m fine.” I tried to waive a nonchalant hand to brush it off, but she still quirked her eyebrow the way she does, telling me I’m not getting away that easy.

“Yeah? Not very convincing there, Sebastian.” Her tone is playful, but there’s something under it.

“Just been a weird couple of days.”

She was pulling her leggings on. “How so?”

She was still so casual, but I know Mileena. She needed to know.

“Well-“ But before I could continue, there was a a loud banging on the door.

I fully expected to hear Jolly, or Nick, but instead, Rachel’s high-pitched whine came through the door.

“We’re leaving in 5 minutes, Noah! With or without you!”

I saw the face Leena made in response to the thick attitude laced in Rachel’s voice. “Damn, I wonder what’s got her so crabby?”

I sighed, and turned my back toward her while searching for my shirt. “Who knows.”

Soundcheck took way too long today, having to continuously stop for minute inconveniences. One of the laptops crashed, so we were at a complete standstill for about fifteen minutes. In that time, Nick and I decided to take a second look at the set list, trying to switch things up.

“Guys?” We both looked up to see her, galloping toward us, a stressed look on her face. Rachel was wearing a low-cut tee today, with black cargo pants and army boots.

“Listen, this computer is giving us a hell of a time, and I just don’t trust it. Would one of you run out to the bus and grab the backup?”

Nick stood up straight and gave a military salute, before jogging off the stage toward the side door. I chuckled and shook my head, looking back down at the clipboard in my hand.

“Changing it up tonight?”

I scanned the paper over and over, not looking up at her. “Thinking about it.”

“Why not play a song you haven’t played in a while?”

I looked up at her. “Like what?”

She pursed her lips, thinking. “Worst in Me?”

I shook my head. “Song blows live. Plus, we haven’t performed it in years. I doubt any of us even remember how.”

“Well, you pulled off The Fountain a while back.”

The sharpness of her tone struck a cord, so I dropped the clipboard on the amp I sat on, and stood up.

“We did.” I stood tall. I felt challenged.

“So why not play something else from that album?”

Her eyes had something in them. It almost looked like malice.

“Because we only played that song for a very specific reason.”

She scoffed. I almost couldn’t believe I heard it, but there it was.

“For Mileena, right?”

This made me narrow my eyes. Folio was right, something is off about her.

“Yep. For Leena.” My words held no room for argument.

She nodded her head slowly, lolling her tongue around between her teeth, before turning on her heel and walking toward Nick, who had re-entered with the computer in hand.

Something in the pit of my stomach burned, in a very bad, terrifying way.

What the fuck had I gotten myself into?

-

The show ran relatively smoothly. Mileena and Laura stood at the rails, making it easy to come undone more while she watched. We had a good time with our set, goofing around and enjoying ourselves.

After, I made no effort to hang around the green room. I was tired, and all I could think about was Leena, in sweats, wrapped in a hotel comforter, braid in her hair, stuffing her face with a burrito while we watched Stranger Things. It sounded heavenly.

Evidently, the rest of the crew felt similarly, as everyone decided to journey back to the hotel together. It didn’t take long, a short ride over from the venue. I had opted to ride with Laura and Leena, nearly bouncing out of my seat while we talked about the show.

“The crowd was fucking awesome tonight!” I say in the middle of the backseat, leaning between the driver and passenger’s seats, my arm draped over to hold Leena’s hand.

“It’s because we were there.” Laura was confident in her statement, which made Leena and I crack up.

“Oh definitely. You screaming ‘Fuck it up Folio’ really got’em going Lo.”

The ride was easy, and even fun. It helped me ignore the growing anxiety in my stomach.

I had been trying to push it back to the depths of my brain, the conversation. I knew it had to happen, but I couldn’t decide when. Originally, I had planned to tell her when we got back to the hotel; rip the bandage off, so to speak.

My selfishness wanted to wait, have a nice, relaxing night with her before we got home, and I gave her the full rundown.

The scariest part of it all? I had not a clue how she would react.

Mileena was anything but the jealous type. She had watched meet and greets with girls hugging me way too long, interviews where the host flirted with me, concerts where I was literally grabbed by women. It never fazed her. She never let a slip of the eyes, or a twitch of the lips. She always just smiled and told me I was a rockstar. It’s normal.

So she would understand this, right?

Waiting in the elevator was painful. The bus had beat us back to the hotel, and we all ended up, once again, together rising through the hotel. I felt my chest release the breath I had been holding once the door opened. I took Mileena's hand in mine, walking us down the hallway, and headed into our room.

She made herself comfortable, kicking off her Converse near the side of the bed, and flopping down on the blankets.

"Ugh, I'm so tired."

I snorted, pulling my shirt over my head. "Oh, yes. I know you must be so wiped from standing."

She tossed a pillow at me, that I caught and tossed back at her, laughing in the process.

"Listen here, buddy, I've been at home with that demon baby you made, for months!"

I feigned shock, grabbing my chest. "Demon baby? Nah, not my Addie."

She stood back up off of the bed, grabbing her backpack and pulling out her pajama pants.

"Oh please, she's insane, and you know it."

I shrugged. "I mean, she's highly intelligent. She can't help it."

She shook her head and shimmied out of her jeans, but paused before she put her pants on, scrunching her nose.

"Could I ask for a big favor?"

I rolled my eyes dramatically. "Yes, Leena, I'll let you wear my sweats."

She smacked at me with her pants. "No, dork. Can I please shower first?"

I raised an eyebrow. "You want me to join you?" I smirked, sticking my tongue out of the corner of my mouth.

"No." She was abrupt, and my face fell. She let out a sheepish grin. "My period started this afternoon after you left. It's pretty horrendous. Real horror movie shit. I'd rather be alone for that."

I pressed my lips in a tight line and nodded. "Fair enough."

I personally didn't care if she was bleeding, and she knew that, but she did, at least for the first few days, and I respected that.

She tip-toed over to me, and pressed a light kiss on my cheek, smiling sweetly. "Thank you, baby!" She scurried to the bathroom and hollered before shutting the door. "Out in a few!"

I sighed, sitting on the bed, and turned the TV on, flipping to the option for the streaming networks, pulling up Netflix and getting the show ready. I then pulled the fridge door open to see it was understocked, only one water bottle left, and no sodas.

"Babe?" I called from the bed, and made my way toward the bathroom. "The mini fridge is bare. I'm going to run down to the lobby and grab stuff from the snack bar."

"Ginger ale please!" She called from the shower.

"You got it."

I slipped my shirt back on and left the room, making my way toward the lobby. The snack bar was full of food, drinks, and regular amenities.

I grabbed myself a Dr. Pepper, a ginger ale for her, a 3 Muskateers, a bag of skittles, and four water bottles. After telling the attendant to charge it to my room, I was headed back up. It wasn't until after I got off the elevator, plastic bag rustling the only sound around, did I hear the footsteps behind me. I ignored them, continuing my stride toward my room.

"Noah!"

The voice made me stop, and groan loudly. "You've got to be kidding me." I didn't even bother hiding my irritation.

I whipped around, nearly colliding with the body behind me.

"What do you want, Rachel?"

She stepped back, eyes wide. "Gosh, could you at least act like you don't hate me?"

I sighed loudly. "Your room isn't on this floor. What do you need?"

My impatience was clear, and it was meant to be.

"You're still ignoring me! You can't just pretend I don't exist. We work together."

"We're not working together right now. So, technically, yes I can." I turned to walk away, but her hand caught my arm.

"Noah, Jesus Christ!"

I was fed up, wound up, and fucking over this.

"What, Rachel?!" My voice was loud, but I didn't care. She was going to make me be mean to her, but I'd do what I had to, to get my point across.

She took a step toward me. "We never talked after the other night!"

"What the fuck is there to talk about?!"

To that, she looked offended. "Are you kidding? You're seriously going to sit here and act like the night at the club was nothing?!"

"It was nothing! Just because you dreamt up some crazed fantasy in your head about me, doesn't mean that anything that happened that night meant anything!"

She huffed, and I could see the tears welling in her eyes. I felt no sympathy.

"We had fucking fun, Noah! For once, I felt like you actually noticed me!"

My eyes had to mock something like disbelief, because she shrugged, wiping at her eyes.

"We've been working together a while now. I get anything and everything you need, always. I take care of you guys on tour. We spend every damn day together! And after all this time, you just feel nothing?!"

If my eyes were any wider, they may actually fall out of my skull.

"Are you kidding me?!" I took a step back. "That is your fucking job! That's what we fucking pay you for!"

"Oh, and the other night, when you fucking came to my room? That was just part of my job?!" She narrowed her eyes, an anger shining through. "I saw the way you looked at me, Noah. The car ride? The club?" She shrugged. "You didn't feel anything?"

I scrubbed my palm over my face. "No, Rachel! I didn't! I'm in a fucking relationship? What the fuck happened to respecting that?!"

"It's hard to respect when you're shoving it in my fucking face!"

"Shoving it in your face?! Since when does the fucking world revolve around you?!" I squeezed my eyes shut. "For fucks sake, Rachel! You've lost it, or something."

"I know you fucking thought about it, Noah. Tell me you fucking didn't."

For no good reason whatsoever, I was frozen again. Her voice, her eyes on me, she had me fucking cornered. Because if I said no, I was lying. If I said yes, I was an asshole. I wasn't sure which I preferred in that moment.

Her lips curled in a vicious smile. "You did. You wanted to come in that night. You wanted me."

She was fucking sick. Insane. Out of fucking control.

I let my voice fall flat and even. "Rachel, I'm going to warn you, you're playing a dangerous game here." I straightened my spine, standing much taller than her. "And I will remind you, I am your employer."

She shook her head. "You going to fire me for telling you I have feelings for you? After you ogled me half-naked? Yeah, that'll go over well."

My jaw dropped. What the fuck? How the fuck did I get here?

I just wanted to lay in bed, snuggle my girl, and eat fucking candy and junk food. I wanted my daughter, and my dog, and my house. I wanted to not be here. I could feel my throat closing.

"Look, I'll give you space. But, just think about it, okay?"

And with that, she turned around and made her way back down the hallway.

I'm not sure how long I stood there, stoic and frazzled, trying to urge myself to move. I was one foot in the grave if I didn't get ahead of this. I needed to talk to Nick, or Jolly, or Folio, or Sumerian, or a lawyer. I let the gears in my head slowly start again before I finally managed to turn around back toward my room.

I took a deep breath, attempting to gather myself before I slipped the card in and pushed the door open.

"Care to explain that?"

Her voice was hard, cold, concrete. She stood, hair still dripping, my Shippuden tee shirt hanging loose around her shoulders, arms crossed tightly across her body.

"I...I uh," My voice came out stuttered and choked. I didn't have the right words to form. "She...I....We...." It wasn't working. I was trying so hard, but I was stuck.

"Hurry up, Noah. You've got thirty fucking seconds."

I stood corrected. I was already in my grave.

[dreamescapeswriting]

In general, I understand why you wouldn’t want minors reading smut and I agree with putting warnings out there but you just seem OBSESSED with it. Like more than any other blog I’ve ever seen. To the point it’s really off putting.

They’re going to read it regardless. I completely agree with refusing to write certain triggers or things because I’ve definitely seen some disgusting stuff out there, but I just don’t understand why you’re so worried about the age of your readers or requesters. A 13 year old could create a blog and say they’re 30 so unless you require proof of ID you really didn’t prevent anything.

It seems like just more stress on your part. I used to follow you a long time ago but like every two days you’d post about how you were blocking accounts that didn’t provide their age or have anything posted. It’s just got annoying so I unfollowed and recently came across one of your posts again and nothing has changed.

I think you’re super talented and I’ve always wanted to request something from you but it honestly gives me anxiety so I turn to other blogs that don’t make me feel like I’m doing something wrong even though I’m not a minor. I’m not comfortable doing it off of anon and I don’t want my age and info out there either, even if it’s just for you. It feels like getting a background check just to request something.

It’s your blog and you have the complete right to do whatever you want and I don’t have to follow you either. I know all of that. I also know this is going to come off as rude and I really don’t mean it that way. I guess I’m just trying to understand your thought process around it. Maybe it could open my eyes more and I could see it from your perspective and be more understanding about why you push this so much.

Hiya darling,

Thanks for sharing your thoughts and being honest with me, I appreciate you coming to me with this and letting me explain my side on this matter. While I understand that it can be frustrating and off-putting to see reminders about what I have on my account it's needed.

Firstly, my main concern is protecting both myself and my readers when I put those mature posts out on the internet. The internet is a tricky and very weird place, and as a content creator who deals with adult material, I have a responsibility to ensure I'm not inadvertently providing explicit content to minors. This is not only a personal ethical stance but a legal one in many places of the world. 

I understand that minors might still find ways to access adult content, not just mine but many others, despite my and many other people's efforts, and I know that it's virtually impossible to prevent it but by setting clear boundaries and rules on my account, I am doing my part to discourage that as much as humanly possible. It's true people lie about their age, but having an age in their bio or not accepting anonymous requests creates a deterrence.

My old (since I have not posted about it since) about blocking blank accounts were always about filtering out any accounts that could be seen as bots, that be porn bots or just random bots that flood Tumblr, and stopping people who solely make accounts just to steal work from hard-working authors such as myself and many others who put content out into the world for free and end up having it stolen from people. Putting those posts out was about maintaining a safe and responsible space for me and others who lurk on my account. It also helps me interact with people who respect these boundaries and understand them and why they're in place in the first place. 

In regards to the stress it might seem to cause to many others, I find that being upfront and putting these kinds of things in place reduces my stress when it comes to posting. It allows me to focus more on creating content without constantly worrying about the age of my readers. The transparency on my part (and those who abide by the "rules" - I guess) helps create a more comfortable environment for those who follow and interact with this blog. 

I understand that not everyone is comfortable sharing their account when requesting smut, which is why I offer to hide your @ whenever people send me requests. Which this has worked for people in the past and still to this day. I would never judge someone for sending me something, as I've always prided myself on keeping a safe space on my account so if for some reason you don't feel comfortable or it gives you anxiety I deeply apologise.

While not everyone feels okay with adding their age on a bio, it's important to me and many other authors on Tumblr so that I and readers all feel safe sharing content intended for those over age. It's crucial that I feel I'm not contributing to the exposure of explicit content to people underage. 

Finding a balance between the concerns I have are a challenge, I and many other authors struggle with it all the time. I realise it's not the perfect solution for everyone but this is the only way I feel comfortable. 

Some people may read adult content regardless of barriers that are set in place, and I respect that people make their own choices, my policies are a way to set a standard and communicate that I'm taking my responsibility seriously, making an effort to guide my content to the age-appropriate audience, therefore I'm morally and legally covered. 

I'm sorry if this causes you anxiety as that is never my aim in life, but please understand that it also causes me anxiety when I don't know the age of people requesting adult content. Imagine how uncomfortable it would be for a 20+-year-old to find out that her explicit writings were asked for by a minor. This is a situation I - and other authors - want to avoid at all costs, both for ethical and peace of mind reasons. Without these policies in place, I would have to consider stopping writing adult content altogether to ensure I'm not inadvertently harming anyone or breaking any laws. Without these things in place, I would have to consider stopping writing smut altogether to ensure I'm not inadvertently harming anyone. 

Thank you for taking the time to reach out. I hope I got my points across without coming across as bitchy as I don't want that to be the case. 

Kind regards,

~M

[postsfromtheportalfuture]

Earthenby-notpromumordad to nextstephome

Thanks for your posts about Pro parents. As one myself - I'm already seeing one of my kids (professionally) drift away from me. Trying to continue sending supportive messages, trying to not lose them, but... On the bright side, one of my bio kids who went low/no contact has been sending me messages again, and has apparently actually told his partner about my existence! And explained why. Luckily, despite his partner being annoyed at the lie, recent newsie coverage has made it clear why, and they are still together. They don't have a lot of credits - he moved to the frontier - and previously my son told his partner I disaproved of that. I didn't, but it was the cover he used. Maybe I should be angry and hurt about the years I missed, but...they've decided to save up credits to come for a visit. I'm going to get to meet my grandkids!

Anyway, I just wanted to let you know that I, and all the ProParents out there, are very grateful for your posts in support of us. This is a trying time for us all - and if I'm honest, doesn't even seem real yet. I mean, Earth, part of Alpha Sector? Norms treating us like we exist?

There will be downsides, as you mentioned. We Proparents put everything into caring for our own kids and our adopted kids. We don't get to see them full time, but that doesn't mean we don't love and care for them. To have our kids abandon us for their 'true families' is heartbreaking, I won't pretend it isn't. But it's nice to know we have a community out there who supports us. Sorry, this turned into a bit of a ramble!

nextstephome:

Don't apologize for rambling! I always love getting asks like this. Just knowing that I was able to help make at least one person feel better is more than enough for me.

I'm so so happy for you that your son has gotten back in contact with you! I'm sure it doesn't erase all of the hurt between you, but it's definitely a start, especially knowing that they're planning to come visit you when they can!

I know it's heartbreaking to see your prokids start drifting away from you and you can tell me to nuke off if what I'm about to say is inappropriate, but this is how i think of it:

our current proparent system is broken, and it has been for a very long time. ten prokids for each proparent is just too many to be able to provide the kind of support that these children need.

i think it was wallamcranesarchnemesis who said it best in one of their posts a while back: "We have proparents, but they're only around for 2 hours a week, which means that while they're able to be there for the big things, the ones that we learn the most from actually tend to be the older children in our Homes/Next Steps...We are quite literally a society of children raising other children."

Please don't take this as me criticizing proparents or saying you're not doing enough! You're all massively overworked, and are being asked to do more than is humanly possible.

And as awful as it sounds to say this, those children who are pulling away from you are (hopefully) getting the kind of one-on-one support that a proparent can't provide them, and their absence means that you now have the time and resources to provide more support to your other kids who need you more now than ever. It means you can spend more time with your own families as well!

I know it doesn't make the hurt go away completely, but hopefully this perspective makes it a little easier to deal with?

Much love from me, and keep being amazing!

[tangled-shoelace]

Barely coherent spawn ramblings about his relationships from the eyes of an aroace person

My brain is oatmeal and I suuuck at expressing things but I desperately want to talk about Spawn because he’s my all time favourite character any media has ever produced. These are things I’ve observed solely from the show and sparse lore reading because I have not read any comics yet lol. I’m getting the first 5 soon though so yay yippie!

Note: I only included the fact I’m aroace because I feel that seeing his relationships unfold through that kind of perspective has made it far more interesting for me to think about. I’m a lot more analytical of relationships like this, and I find myself appreciating them in a way that’s different than most people. I guarantee this will be me mostly gushing :3c

Spawn is such a fascinating guy when it comes to developing friendships. I am partly aware that this is bc of the whole female love interest thing, but I’ve been thinking about it a lot. The main message this show tries to get across is that Spawn is a creature who ruins the lives of those he wants to get close to, but he still tries nonetheless. It’s a deep, primal desire for closeness, even in his worst moments. It’s the most tragic part of him. He believes he needs to earn his humanity back, but in reality, his humanity was there the whole time. He just didn’t really know it, whether it be because he was being suffocated by nightmares or believing he was a monster for the things he was doing. Which is partially true. I’d love to touch more on his monstrous portrayal musically and visually sometime

The scene where Wanda saw him for the first time shattered my heart. Seriously. Her screams of fear were muffled, as he reached out to her and spoke her name. He couldn’t hear it. He didn’t want to hear it. Until finally we hear a loud, clear scream of sheer terror, followed by spawn crying out her name as she drives off. He finally realised she doesn’t recognise him, her husband, and that she’s horrified by him and his actions as a monster. He did whatever he possibly could to get close to her, even through very questionable actions, trying to escape the inexorable reality that he can’t be with her. Not with the way he is now. Any chance of a relationship with her is long gone, but he refuses to accept it.

He fears closeness, but he yearns for it you know? With his deteriorating mental state, it wouldn’t be hard to believe that he genuinely doesn’t know how to process his feelings to develop stable relationships. I sure wouldn’t if I was being haunted by intense nightmares and constant misery. He’s just drawn to anyone who shows him kindness, someone who can make him forget the pain. It’s a humanly desire. His sliver of humanity. A character like Jade is more than a love interest. To me, she wasn’t really one to begin with. It’s genuinely hard for me to describe. The kiss scene is one of my all time favourites. His nervous breathing and hesitation to let her hold him made me kind of teary eyed.

This isn’t me trying to woobify spawn I promise. There’s a difference in that and simply appreciating his more emotionally messy side. He’s genuinely a wreck and I enjoy it. So sorry if this is barely cohesive </3 I promise I’m not a total idiot I just have a hard time putting my thoughts into words. Spawn makes me emotional

[scubadavid]

Love At Second Glance

I wanted to try out writing fics so I apologize if it's not that good.

Word Count: 1032

“Are you sure you still want to meet me”? 

That last text seemed so off from our previous conversations. It threw me off, this sudden change in attitude. 

“Of course I do, why wouldn’t I?” I replied, still confused by his behavior. “Johnny, is something wrong”? 

“No.” 

Why was he being so cryptic now? He used to be so descriptive in his responses and now, this dry reply? I couldn’t take it and decided to push further, desperate for an explanation.

“Johnathon, be honest with me. Did I do something wrong?” 

…read. I sighed as I put the phone down for a couple minutes, a bit upset by the cold shoulder he was throwing my way. We were hitting it off so well, chatting it up about our shared interests and some things we’d like to do. I’d thought online dating was some sort of scam but I reluctantly tried it, just to mess around. Now, the really cool guy I’m talking to is blowing me off. Great. 

“I want to see you, believe me. I’m just not who you expect me to be. I don’t want to make you think of me differently or anything like that”. 

The message popped up, causing me to immediately grab my phone to respond. He wasn’t being any more clear so I decided to give him the benefit of the doubt. 

“I don’t expect you to look a certain way, Johnny. Just let me meet you and let me decide for myself, okay?” 

“Okay,” I smiled when I read his reply, then seeing his addition to it, “Meet me at this park, say, 20 minutes”? 

The park was a short walk away from my apartment and so I agreed to his request. I told him I’d get ready and then see him in a bit. I then scurried around my room, searching for my better looking clothes before freshening up. I grabbed my keys and then left the apartment, ready to finally meet the guy I had been talking to for the last few weeks

I stood around the park, looking around to see the various people and their partners. I sat at a discernible bench, making myself as easy to spot as humanly possible. It would be a lie to say I wasn’t nervous, the mere thought of him and I seeing each other was enough to make me shake with excitement. Maybe I could even hug him, seeing to it that I’m brave enough to do so. 

“I’m close by, gray trench coat and fedora”. 

I saw the message and smiled as I looked up, seeing a tall figure matching that description. I replied, “I’m on the bench,” seeing how the figure turned around and faced my direction. My heart skipped a beat, my nerves rapidly accelerating as he approached. However, as he got closer, I noticed something was off. 

Gone was the tan-ish skin and long, wavy brown hair from his profile picture. Gone were his facial features, or any features to be specific. In place, paper white skin and black spots of various sizes and shapes laced his body. I stared with a bit of awe as I took in the sight of him, taking a step closer. He seemed surprised by my reaction, in disbelief even. 

“You…aren’t scared of me?” He asked, the larger spot on his face moving as he spoke, as if it were a replacement to his mouth. I kept my mouth agape as I gently said, “Not at all…I’m more intrigued than anything.” 

He stood silent for a moment before quietly sobbing to himself. I immediately grew concerned, asking him what was wrong. 

“I have been turned into this…freak and almost everyone I know has refused to even look at me. I lost everyone and everything…and here you are, staring and talking to me…” 

I could tell from his tone that he was not crying tears of sadness, but rather tears of relief. I smiled gently as I grabbed his hand, caressing the back of it with my thumb. I watched as small tears rolled down his cheeks, or wherever his cheeks would be now, from the spot on his face. Even with no facial features, you could just tell how he felt at that moment. It was a good reflection of who he was, in text and in person.

“You…you’re too kind to me. You deserve someone better, someone who’s not…this”.

I looked him dead in his face as I retorted, “No, Johnny. You deserve so much more than what you’ve been through”. Although I was fearful before, I slowly embraced him, letting myself become a source of comfort for him as I hugged him tightly. His arms made their way around me just a moment later, him returning the favor equally as strong, if not stronger than me. 

“Thank you…thank you so much.” That was all he said as he pulled away from the hug. I felt my nerves settle the more I was with him, he was still the same person who I hit up online. It didn’t matter what he looked like now or then, his personality still shined through ever so evidently. Our conversation seemed endless, moving so smoothly from topic to topic as if it was just nature. We connect so well and he’s just so charismatic, I can’t help but feel some kind of way about him. 

“Here, check this out”. He then stuck his hand into the spot in his abdomen, pulling out a small bouquet of chrysanthemums before handing them to me. I thanked him for the flowers before just inching closer, trying to get a clear shot of his face before trying to be bold. As soon as I could, I leaned over and gave him a quick peck on the cheek before smiling. He was dumbfounded, his hand making its way to spot my kiss landed as he sat in silence. 

“...You kissed me. You actually kissed me”. 

“Well, yeah. I really do like you, Jonathon. I mean it,” I said as I just chuckled at his surprised expression. He then chuckled along with me, gently grabbing my hands before saying, “I like you too”. 

[unnamedartist-portfolio]

DIY Sawdust brick kiln experiment : Take One

Okay so! As you may have noticed, I've fallen back into ceramics, and I am loving it! Last christmas, I made my dad a hand to hold one of his father's pipe out of clay, but I didn't have a kiln on hand, so it was raw clay, and I gave it to him with the promise one day, we'll try and make a kiln ourselves to cook it.

Well! Summer's back, and that day has finally come!!

After the smallest amount of proper research humanly possible, and armed with enthusiasm and total hubris, I settled on building a sawdust brick kiln, simply because it requires the least amount of skills and work, and is completely dismantlable. I stole all of my knowledge from this Potter Wheel tutorial (thank you so much!!), scouted the internet for reclaimed bricks unsuccessfully, grumpily settled on buying fancy new ones, and finally, we got to work.

The concept is really simple. Stack the bricks to assemble a chimney of sorts, stuff it with as much sawdust as you can, set the whole thing on fire. A pyromaniac's dream.

We placed all of our stuff at the bottom, on a layer of sawdust, filled the rest, lit it up, covered it once we were fairly sure the fire wouldn't die on us, and waited.

A whole bunch of grandkids were there too (you can see some little feet on the pictures) so we turned this into a cookout opportunity, because why not, and it was delicious

That being said, I am sorry to report the fire went out around 11:30PM, only about 8 hours after we started it, meaning we were 4 hours short on the amount of time we wanted it to last. We left the kiln to cool down over night as planned, but I was already fairly sure we did not achieve full cooking.

Here's what it looked like upon opening the next day (and I feel like an idiot because I got exited and moved some of the things before taking a picture, so their placement is not quite right, which could've been relevant... --')

We have:

two rimmed vase shaped vessels (that a friend of mine threw, I'm not there yet)

two small bowls

the most famous hand

and two hand built pouring bowls (with the handles) I made waay back that were bisqued but not glazed

So 5 raw clay pieces and two cooked ones. The idea was to see how different things would react, and see what I could learn from it.

First and foremost, I'm happy to report we had no breakage! Now, does that mean we managed to avoid any kind of thermal shock, or that we did not get enough heat to cause said thermal shock, I'm not entirely sure.

We definitively got some nice coloring on the bowls and vases, and the shine on the bottoms (that were trimmed and inadvertly polished in the process because the clay was a bit dry) makes me think we acheived at least /some/ cooking? They sound less dull when flicked, but we're still far from the bell like sound of thoroughly cooked clay.

The bigger vase got some nice petroleum shine that is also encouraging, but as you can see on that same third picture, and on the rim, it cooked completely unevenly, and all the light clay is still raw and dissolves and smudges when I rub it with a damp cloth. This is were I'm pissed at myself for messing with the placements of the pieces when I opened the lid, because the obvious explanation would be that the uncooked bit faced the walls of the kiln, but I can't be sure.

The hand, despite being in the middle of the kiln because I knew it would be the hardest to cook, is in fact, the least cooked one of the lot. I'm not at all surprised, modelling takes a lot more clay, and it is way thicker than the other raw pieces we put in. But the finger tips and edges give me hope that, with a little more time, we could cook it through!

The most successful piece is the smaller vase. It's still not ringing clear as fully cooked clay should, but it definitively got the most out of this firing, thanks to my friend's consistent and thin throwing.

As for the two pouring bowls, I forgot to take pictures, but most of the blackening and coloring washed off, and I can't say I'm surprised. They too have pretty thick walls, because hand coiling, and I really don't think we reached enough heat to cause the already cooked clay to react. Still, it was interesting to try!!

So all and all? I think we did pretty well for a first attempt!

The next obvious thing to try is to make the kiln bigger to allow for more combustible. Not sure when we'll be able to try again, probably not before september, but we'll get there!

In the meanwhile, I'm thinking of sacrificing one of these pieces to get a better idea of how much it did or did not cooked by leaving it to sit in water and see what (if anything) survives. Can't choose which one though. Help?

[ammg-old2]

It was a simpler time. A friend introduced us, pulling up a static yellow webpage using a shaky dial-up modem. A man stood forth, dressed in a dapper black pinstriped suit with a red-accented tie. He held one hand out, as if carrying an imaginary waiter’s tray. He looked regal and confident and eminently at my service. “Have a Question?” he beckoned. “Just type it in and click Ask!” And ask, I did. Over and over.

With his steady hand, Jeeves helped me make sense of the tangled mess of the early, pre-Google internet. He wasn’t perfect—plenty of context got lost between my inquiries and his responses. Still, my 11-year-old brain always delighted in the idea of a well-coiffed man chauffeuring me down the information superhighway. But things changed. Google arrived, with its clean design and almost magic ability to deliver exactly the answers I wanted. Jeeves and I grew apart. Eventually, in 2006, Ask Jeeves disappeared from the internet altogether and was replaced with the more generic Ask.com.

Many years later, it seems I owe Jeeves an apology: He had the right idea all along. Thanks to advances in artificial intelligence and the stunning popularity of generative-text tools such as ChatGPT, today’s search-engine giants are making huge bets on AI search chatbots. In February, Microsoft revealed its Bing Chatbot, which has thrilled and frightened early users for its ability to scour the internet and answer questions (not always correctly) with convincingly human-sounding language. The same week, Google demoed Bard, the company’s forthcoming attempt at an AI-powered chat-search product. But for all the hype, when I stare at these new chatbots, I can’t help but see the faint reflection of my former besuited internet manservant. In a sense, Bing and Bard are finishing what Ask Jeeves started. What people want when they ask a question is for an all-knowing, machine-powered guide to confidently present them with the right answer in plain language, just as a reliable friend would.

With this in mind, I decided to go back to the source. More than a decade after parting ways, I found myself on the phone with one of the men behind the machine, getting as close to Asking Jeeves as is humanly possible. These days, Garrett Gruener, Ask Jeeves’s co-creator, is a venture capitalist in the Bay Area. He and his former business partner David Warthen eventually sold Ask Jeeves to Barry Diller and IAC for just under $2 billion. Still, I wondered if Gruener had been unsettled by Jeeves’s demise. Did he, like me, see the new chatbots as the final form of his original idea? Did he feel vindicated or haunted by the fact that his creation may have simply been born far too early?

The original conception for Jeeves, Gruener told me, was remarkably similar to what Microsoft and Google are trying to build today. As a student at UC San Diego in the mid-1970s, Gruener—a sci-fi aficionado—got an early glimpse of ARPANET, the pre-browser predecessor to the commercial internet, and fell in love. Just over a decade later, as the web grew and the beginnings of the internet came into view, Gruener realized that people would need a way to find things in the morass of semiconnected servers and networks. “It became clear that the web needed search but that mere mortals without computer-science degrees needed something easy, even conversational,” he said. Inspired by Eliza, the famous chatbot designed by MIT’s Joseph Weizenbaum, Gruener dreamed of a search engine that could converse with people using natural-language processing. Unfortunately, the technology wasn’t sophisticated enough for Gruener to create his ideal conversational search bot.

So Gruener and Warthen tried a work-around. Their code allowed a user to write a statement in English, which was then matched to a preprogrammed vector, which Gruener explained to me as “a canonical snapshot of answers to what the engine thought you were trying to say.” Essentially, they taught the machine to recognize certain words and provide really broad categorical answers. “If you were looking for population stats for a country, the query would see all your words and associated variables and go, Well, this Boolean search seems close, so it’s probably this.” Jeeves would provide the answer, and then you could clarify whether it worked or not.

“We tried to discern what people were trying to say in search, but without actually doing the natural-recognition part of it,” Gruener said. After some brainstorming, they realized that they were essentially building a butler. One of Gruener’s friends mocked up a drawing of the friendly servant, and Jeeves was born.

Pre-Google, Ask Jeeves exploded in popularity, largely because it allowed people to talk with their search engine like a person. Within just two years, the site was handling more than 1 million queries a day. A massive Jeeves balloon floated down Central Park West during Macy’s 1999 Thanksgiving parade. But not long after the butler achieved buoyancy, the site started to lose ground in the search wars. Google’s web-crawling superiority led to hard times for Ask Jeeves. “None of us were very concerned about monetization in the beginning,” Gruener told me. “Everyone in search early on realized, if you got this right, you’d essentially be in the position of being the oracle. If you could be the company to go to in order to ask questions online, you’re going to be paid handsomely.”

Gruener isn’t bitter about losing out to Google. “If anything, I’m really proud of our Jeeves,” he told me. Listening to Gruener explain the history, it’s not hard to see why. In the mid-2000s, Google began to pivot search away from offering only 10 blue links to images, news, maps, and shopping. Eventually, the company began to fulfill parts of the Jeeves promise of answering questions with answer boxes. One way to look at the evolution of big search engines in the 21st century is that all companies are trying their best to create their own intuitive search butlers. Gruener told me that Ask Jeeves’s master plan had two phases, though the company was sold before it could tackle the second. Gruener had hoped that, eventually, Jeeves could act as a digital concierge for users. He’d hoped to employ the same vector technology to get people to ask questions and allow Jeeves to make educated guesses and help users complete all kinds of tasks. “If you look at Amazon’s Alexa, they’re essentially using the same approach we designed for Jeeves, just with voice,” Gruener said. Yesterday’s butler has been rebranded as today’s virtual assistant, and the technology is ubiquitous in many of our home devices and phones. “We were right for the consumer back then, and maybe we’d be right now. But at some point the consumer evolved,” he said.

I’ve been fixated on what might’ve been if Gruener’s vision had come about now. We might all be Jeevesing about the internet for answers to our mundane questions. Perhaps our Jeevesmail inboxes would be overflowing and we’d be getting turn-by-turn directions from an Oxford-educated man with a stiff English accent. Perhaps we’d all be much better off.

Gruener told me about an encounter he’d had during the search wars with one of Google’s founders at a TED conference (he wouldn’t specify which of the two). “I told him that we’re going to learn an enormous amount about the people who are using our platforms, especially as they become more conversational. And I said that it was a potentially dangerous position,” he said. “But he didn’t seem very receptive to my concerns.”

Near the end of our call, I offered an apology for deserting Jeeves like everyone else did. Gruener just laughed. “I find this future fascinating and, if I’m honest, a little validating,” he said. “It’s like, ultimately, as the tech has come around, the big guys have come around to what we were trying to do.”

[themasterbrain]

The Day Russ Saved Time Itself

It was another uneventful Tuesday afternoon, the kind of day where the coffee is a little too bitter, and the office printer jams one too many times. I was about to grab another cup when the phone rang. Russ was on the other end.

“Did you know I can stop time?”

I nearly dropped my mug. It was typical of Russ to start conversations like this—straight to the point, no preamble.

“You can… stop time?” I asked, half-expecting this to be some new metaphor for his uncanny ability to finish his work faster than humanly possible.

“Of course,” he said, completely serious. “Ever heard of the time vortex over Antarctica? Yeah, that’s because of me.”

I sat back down, knowing this was going to be one of those conversations. “Tell me more.”

Russ launched into one of his classic tales. Apparently, just last month, he had been called upon by an elite, undisclosed branch of the military (or perhaps the government, or maybe a secret intergalactic council—it wasn’t clear). The world was on the brink of total catastrophe: a rip in the space-time continuum. Only Russ, with his advanced reflexes and military-grade genetic modifications, could fix it.

“You ever notice how the clocks sometimes skip a second?” he asked, his voice hushed like he was revealing classified information. “That’s because of me. When I’m saving time, I give back most of the seconds. But not all of them. Sometimes I keep one for myself.”

He let that sink in. I had no words.

“The whole thing started when I was in Antarctica,” Russ continued. “I was snowmobiling across the ice cap with a team of researchers, looking for this hidden time vortex the government’s been keeping quiet about. The temperature dropped to about negative 80, but I didn’t feel it. You know why? Chromosome 26. The cold doesn’t affect me.”

Of course.

“So we get there, right?” he went on. “And there’s this huge tear in the sky, like the fabric of time itself is just… ripped open. I knew I didn’t have long. I grabbed the gear from the research team—pretty high-tech stuff, stuff they don’t even tell NASA about—and I climbed up into the tear.”

“Climbed into the… tear?” I echoed.

“Yeah, right up into the vortex. Turns out, time looks a lot like lava lamps. Sorta just floating around in big colorful blobs. But here’s the kicker: if one of those blobs pops, time stops forever. I had about five minutes.”

Now, at this point, I wasn’t sure if I was more baffled by the logistics or the imagery. Russ paused dramatically.

“I patched it up, obviously. That’s why you’re still sitting here. But you wouldn’t believe the amount of paperwork I had to do afterward.”

I blinked. “Paperwork?”

“Time travel. They make you fill out reports in four different centuries just to get it signed off. Bureaucracy, man. It’s everywhere.”

I should’ve expected that.

He continued, “On the way back, one of the researchers tried to thank me, said something like, ‘You’ve saved the world,’ and I said, ‘No. I’ve saved time itself.’ Then I hopped on my snowmobile and sped off into the sunset.”

I was silent for a moment, trying to imagine Russ riding through a blizzard, probably without any goggles, because, of course, his engineered DNA made him impervious to snow blindness too.

“So… you saved time?” I asked, just to be sure I was following correctly.

“Yeah, it’s not the first time. Won’t be the last either. Anyway, just thought you should know. Gotta go. I’m meeting with some physicists later—they want to debrief me on multiverse theory.”

Click.

And that was it. Another normal Tuesday.

In reality, Russ was late for a meeting. Again.

[worshipme]

“that’s the best part, though. i just feel so relaxed. like i could fall asleep if i didn’t have anything to do. the perfect day would end with me having my hair played with so that i could let myself fall asleep to the feeling.” he murmurs. tyler’s certain that in a past life he was a cat, or a dog, or some sort of house pet that loved to be pet. he was just enjoying the feeling of her fingers carding through his hair so much that he pulled her in even closer to him to try and get her to do more - if that was even humanly possible.

tyler opens his eyes with the intention of asking if this was okay now that he had pulled her in closer and his palm was nor firmly pressed against her bare skin, but was met with her blue gaze already fixed on him. he goes to pull his head back from her, thinking that maybe she was uncomfortable with all of this until he was stopped by the feeling of her lips on his. immediately, his eyes shut and tyler kisses her once he manages to wear off the initial shock. he turns his body to face her, never once parting from her mouth while his hands find her hips.

“come here.” he whispers against her while he pulls her on to his lap by the hips. his tongue slides between her parted lips and he completely loses himself in the feeling of physical affection. desire burns under his skin and spreads quickly like a flame. his hands roam, sneaking up under her shirt and exploring the skin there. “want you.” he mumbles when he finally parts from her mouth. tyler’s quick to keep his mouth busy though and he dips his face down in the crook of her neck to press kisses there.

it was true that tyler hadn’t come over to courtney’s with this intention, but now that he knows what it’s like to have her affection focused on him and the feeling and taste of her mouth on his, tyler can only find himself wanting more from her. judging by her own reactions, the little sounds she was making against his lips, the way her body was pressing against his - he could only assume she wanted him just as much as he wanted her in this moment. one of his hands reaches out to swipe blindly at the table to clear it of its contents while he guides her to wrap her legs around his hips. the bottles of paint start to fall on the floor and tyler pulls his head back so that he could press his mouth back against hers.

The last thing that Courtney wanted to do, was make anything awkward. But she found herself playing with his hair and not really thinking too much about it. Her time spent with Tyler was relaxed and effortless -- and the two of them seemed to naturally just sink in to this moment with one another. Slender fingers pushed back through his thick, wild hair, feeling it sliding between her small knuckles and ruffle against her palm. He reached up and took a gentle hold of her wrist to coax her in to running her fingers through his hair some more -- making it known both with his actions and with his words that he liked it when she played with his hair. Tyler leaned his head towards her a bit more and she pushed her fingers back through his strands again ... and again, combing through them with her fingers. "I don't blame you. I like the way that it feels, too. Puts me to sleep though. I can't tell you how many times I've fallen asleep at the salon when I'm getting my hair washed and trimmed. " she stated, sliding her fingers back through his strands with no real indication that she wanted to stop. Just as much as he was enjoying her practically petting him, she was also enjoying the feeling of his hair against her touch -- as well as the added closeness that started to really develop between them. One strong arm pulled her in, right up against him, dropping his hand down to draw soft and small circles against her lower back, right where her t-shirt didn't cover. Skin on skin ... sending a soft chill through her body. And then -- silence. Both of them just enjoyed the moment. Her fingers slowly running back through his hair while he absentmindedly caressed her soft skin. Blue eyes once again were fixed on his handsome face, just admiring him for as long as he would allow her to, until eventually -- his brown eyes met hers. Courtney didn't know exactly why it happened to what the fuck possessed her to lean in towards him. But, she did. Full, warm lips pressed against his mouth. Her free hand reaching up to softly stroke her fingers against his strong jaw, sliding her palm up against it as she kept her mouth against his. The kiss was as much of a surprise for him as it was for her but she couldn't deny just how fucking good it felt, to taste him. In fact ... she was enjoying it so much .. her lips started to open slowly -- as if to invite his tongue between them.

[exhaustedstripper]

Dear Diary - 3.13.23

I used to joke that I only did pole and acro tricks at the club if I was making enough on my stage set to cover a bottle of ibuprofen.

After 5 hours, I walked with 80 bucks and a backache that absolutely was not worth it. My very mormon gymnastics coaches would probably keel over and simultaneously roll their knowing eyes to learn I'd become a stripper. Or would they say..."who again?"

Jokes on you Jen, I can still do back-walkovers. I do them over the stage ledge, landing my ankles softly onto the shoulders of whatever lucky patron I have deemed is least likely to try to touch me or think I genuinely see something in them under that red light. Then I pretzel fold myself into a short series of contortion movies and the crowd either sees god in this contorted pussy or they are so beaten down by their own day that they cannot appreciate the work that goes into folding oneself into an appetizer for their amusement at 1 dollar a song per person.

Since it was an abysmally slow night, I tried to make the most of it by trying fernet, a recommendation from every bartender under the sun. I have tried, multiple times to make good with Fernet, but no more after tonight. Drinking fernet is an uppity bartender thing and I'll not be convinced otherwise.

It's liking sucking down spruce cum only the spruce had a diet of bong rips alone. (What are you trying to prove, bartenders?!)

But, sometimes my shift is slow enough for my to question my reality and try fernet again. A shift so slow that I feel safe to subject the audience to my fantasy set.

Underground by David Bowie, 5:57

Star Wars - Cantina Band - Epic Version by Alala, 2:24

Never Ending Story by Limahl, 3:30

All of these songs are on Spotify. You're welcome.

The fantasy set is not a smattering of randomly selected pieces. Each song is plucked from a movie popularized about 10 years before I'd discover them. (My taste in film/music was delayed due to my growing up poor and only having access to what my dad deemed was good entertainment...i.e. his childhood movies).

Underground, from Labyrinth, one of my all-time favorite films. It has everything. A dry humored British worm, handling life in the labyrinth in the most British way humanly possible. Oh, lost a baby have we? Come squeeze your gargantuan human lady body into my worm-house and hang with my worm family. Drink some tea.

Then we've got Hoggle, who is so rough and tumble until bribed with the correct accessories - arguably the most relatable character in the film. Knows the monarch is a sadistic prick, doesn't want to tangle with said monarch for obvious reasons, does not want to hang out with a whiny human girl, tired of walking, understands that faeries are bad news. Hoggle gets it.

Here is where I acknowledge that Sarah exists. And that's about the nicest thing I have to say about her.

Toby, the baby. Excellent acting for a baby. Smiled a lot, that can't have been easy to manage seeing as though he was surrounded by Henson Goblin puppets and those things were horrifyingly ugly.

Then - the bulge himself. Bowie.

To be clear, Bowie in Labyrinth was not my sexual awakening. In a cruel twist of fate, that prize goes to Will Smith in Independence Day (I hate aliens and anything alien related, but this is a story for another time). But Bowie was a close second. The androgynous look of the Goblin King spoke to me in a way that confused me at the time. I liked him because he was simultaneously masc and femme. To this day, when I see anybody dressed as the Goblin King or a man who is comfortable being femme, I am turned on. I am here for it. Eyeliner? Yes. Shiny pants? Absolutely yes. The mullet? Please dear god let my half white trash roots have their dream.

Honorable mention to Bluto. You are so cute. I know you do not actually exist but if you did, I would send you fan mail. You precious gift to this world. I'm sorry those Napoleon complex goblins bullied you. You deserved better.

My unending devotion to Labyrinth aside - the song Underground happens to be 5:57. This is far too long for a strip club song, ideally you want to aim for the 3-4 minute mark. And, ideally, you want to choose songs that...are sexy. But lucky for me, I have a day job and really work that Manic Pixie Dream Girl angle so people lose their shit when I pull crap like this. People pay me for my whimsy, not just my ass and titties. Anyway it's basically a 6 minute song, which I chose on purpose.

For one thing, the intro takes 19 seconds to welcome Bowie's unmistakeable voice. The song is familiar enough to enough people, without being overplayed or "rediscovered" to where they always stop for a second, letting the memory register. You can tell who loves Labyrinth by who cheers first, and who has merely seen it more than they care to confess by the time it hits them during the chorus at 0:54, at which point they no knowingly as if they knew all along (posers). The song itself is jaunty, and while you may think it's hard to make it sexy, it's got a decent flow that allows for a variety of dance styles that are fun and less physically demanding. The length of the song allows for the girl ahead of me, who is leaving the stage, to gather her tips and me to bop my hips to Bowie's words, by which point people tend to pay attention to some degree. The length of the song ALSO allows me to justify my next choice, sitting in at 2:24 - too short for a strip club song.

Star Wars- Cantina Band - Epic Version by Alala is hands down the best remake of any of the Star Wars songs.

Curiously, the song begins with what we would recognize as the Finale (and yes, I listened to two of the original Star Wars soundtracks, both New Hope and The Empire Strikes Back to verify this). The Finale builds dramatically, full symphony. Again, the customers at the strip club are forced to pay attention - how could they not? There are many things they expect from their night, many things that will leave their expectations unfulfilled but THIS is my gift to them. You may not hold my tits sir, but you may have this ludicrous story to tell to all your friends.

Anyway - the song slips into the famous Cantina Band, a saucy, dance version of it that you can't help but bop to. A repeat of the Cantina band hits, a scoshe faster, bolder before a sudden but tactful fade into the finale. I'm not even that big of a Star Wars person, but the mix is brilliant, and it makes me smile. Therefore it lives on the fantasy set.

Having evened out my general time between songs 1 and 2, I am free to end my set in an admittedly less impactful, but still deserving song - The Neverending Story.

Re-popularized in recent years by Stranger Things, I gift my unsuspecting crowd another memory. I use the legato notes to shift into poses on the pole, so as Limahl blissfully breaks into "Neverending Storyyyyyyyy" I am shifting into whatever move it is where I hinge my right knee and hang stretched below it. I can achieve a number of shapes here, and transition into my superman. A move that is marvelously difficult and painful to hold and yet NOBODY ever is impressed. Please understand, you hold your body weight horizontally across the pole by your thighs alone, you hand does jack shit.

The set may sound ridiculous to you, and frankly, it is. But sometimes, you go to work after working your full-time day job, and you walk away with $80 bucks in your pocket and you have to carve out a win for yourself with something just a little absurd.

[xtrablak674]

Getting My Affairs in Order

Not being shady or even trying to fish for a compliment but I don't think even ten folks would show up to a memorial service for me. #facts

My position on this point hasn't really changed in decades, and it has to do with a few factors. It's not that I am particularly unlikable or anything albeit that may play a part, I am not going to try to gaslight myself into believing I am everyone's cup of tea, because I am not.

I am a bachelor.

I've long been estranged from my entire family.

I am an orphan, neither grandparents or parents are still alive.

In recent years I have not been overly social, not joining any groups or organizations like I had in my youth.

More or less I am a hermit, with contact with truly no more than a single handful of people.

I also have a tendency to be radically honest with folks, and let me tell you folk definitely don't like this.

On its face this may appear extremely sad, but I never wanted a life full of hollow meaningless connections. Depth, honesty and truth have always been paramount to me in my relationships, and when a particular friendship isn't serving those things its time to move on from it. It may seem harsh, but why would you stay in a relationship that is no longer serving you? Living things grow and change, only dead things stay the same. #period

In the past I have talked about, what good is love you don't feel? I have had and or have people in my life, who I rarely interact with but they say, they have love for me. I reiterate, what good is love you don't feel?

Why do we allow people to move through this life and not give them their flowers why they are still here? Part of my remunerations about my life is reflecting, reviewing and rewarding the accomplishments I have had during my brief time on the planet. Per my list there isn't really anyone else doing that work, so I do it for myself. #selfcare

Part of this is making sure my death is as frictionless as my life, and making sure I have taken care of as many things as humanly possible to prepare for my demise.

The big thing grabbing my attention today is how to I wish to be visually remembered and this had me thinking of the artist who I have known who have captured my image in to my liking.

Without doing too much of a deep dive, Ms. Abramson is one of those artist, her portrait [seen above] at a former friends art exhibition opening is one of those shots I love, and the top of the list for favorite profile shots. The second shot in this category would be this shot by Mr. Kushner, now some of the technical aspects of this shot I don't love its not as clear and crisp as I like my portraits, but Mr. Kushner was still learning at the time in 2016 when this shot was taken.

Another photograph that has meaning to me is shot by Laylah Amatullah Barrayn, I was in a show she was curating at the time. It's meaningful because it was the one and only time a significant amount of family showed up to one of my exhibitions. This event was never repeated and was very memorable for me because of its uniqueness. It's rare that I get folks there clapping for and celebrating me.

The no-brainer photos that I would also want included is me and the kids, and when I say kids I am meaning nieces, niblings and nephew. Most of those ones I have actually met I have those in-case-of-death photos. You know the photo you make your wallpaper or post on IG when someone you knows dies. I have specifically instructed certain friends that we haven't created this shot and should get on it STAT. But they may find themselves wanting and that isn't on me.

An aside photos I wouldn't want included in any remembrances of my life are any photos of me and any former siblings, each and everyone of those shots I had to personally orchestrate and still got shit on by the lot of them. I don't want anyone to think for a moment that is how I would want my life reflected, but basically fantasies.

The reason these kind of things are important to me is because I didn't have those kind of shots of my former-siblings and myself as children and no shot ever of both of my parents together with me. I think these kinds of absences are significant to our identities and our perceptions of ourselves, which is why I have always made sure that I always try to get these kinds of shots with the children.

That's all I had to say, this ish may seem dark, but the truth is once we are born we are going to die, might as well get yourself right for the inevitable. #facts

[imagineimpact]

Could i request Diluc angst oneshot where reader and him get into a big disagreement or argument where Diluc makes them cry and feel really bad about themself so they go and end up hanging out with Kaeya a bit much cause he offered to cheer reader up and Diluc won't apologize. until he see's his s/o hanging out with Kaeya

I actually wrote 2 different versions of the ending for this, but this is the one I decided to go with! If you want the more angsty version do let me know.

Anyway,

Harsh Words

Diluc x Reader

Screaming. Yelling that could be heard throughout the Dawn Winery residence late into the night, heard only by the maids, the night security, and perhaps a late worker or two.

And of course, by the two individuals who held the voices.

It was rather unusual for the two of you to be at odds; and, on the occasion in which you were, it wasn’t nearly to this degree.

But the two of you were outright screaming at each other. It wasn’t even about one thing anymore - it was everything. Whatever you had been arguing about had reached the point of irrelevance; It never should have reached this point and you knew that, but you were under fire and you couldn’t stop.

All you knew was that this was Diluc’s fault, and that you couldn’t take this kind of argument.

“If you just thought about your actions for once-”

You cut him off, “Oh don’t try me with that, you’re the one treating me like I’m an idiot and trying to control my-”

“If you had just listened for once and been less of a selfish bitch then I wouldn’t have to!”

His words had cut far deeper than either of you had expected, and you physically recoiled at the words, a sudden wave washing over you which forced tears from your eyes. The truth in his words was irrelevant - It felt true, even if it wasn’t.

You turn away from him. In spite of your state, he makes no move toward you. None, not even to give you the slightest feel of any comfort. You knew - he wanted the words to cut through you.

You go to the door and slip on your shoes, leaving the room as fast as you humanly could.

You can’t take this anymore.

But you don’t make it past the front door. As if by telepathy, Diluc has two of his night security waiting by the door in a stance showing you that they’re ready to make sure you don’t leave. They block your path, silent in their menace. When you turn around, only then do you notice Adelinde and Hille quietly staring at you. Diluc’s footsteps down the stairs are a slow horror, an even pace which served to only emphasize that feeling of dread; Very easily, this felt like the perfect time to be murdered.

The drawl of footsteps approach, yet cease a few meters away - he’s far too distant to do anything himself. His eyes lock on yours, quietly assessing you.

“Diluc, let me leave.” You hiss through streaming tears. You nearly choke on the tension in the air.

He doesn’t say anything for a moment. His eyes don’t show any expression, show any remorse or guilt, or even happiness. Truly, there is nothing in his eyes.

“Let me make myself clear: You are not leaving this premises in the middle of the night. Do you understand me?”

“Not even slightly.”

Silence. His eyes flicker, the way they do when he sees an abyss mage, or when Kaeya makes a comment that goes a little too far - pure anger.

“Adelinde, fix up the guest room.”

“No need. I’ll be leaving now.” You scoff.

Diluc tilts his head, peering over you and towards his security as if to say ‘don’t you fucking dare let them through’.

Then another look, and you feel yourself being pushed into the house again, the slam of the doors behind you.

A wave of anger washes over you, and you can’t help the excess of tears that fall, harder now than they had been before.

Diluc holds his ground, staring at you silently. You shake your head and look away, not sure what to do with yourself. Their staring puts you in pure disarray.

“Adelinde.”

“Yes, sorry.” She mutters, bowing and taking her leave in the direction of the guest bedroom in order to prepare it for you.

When she’s gone, you shake your head. “I’m not going to be sleeping.”

“Then stay in your room. I don’t care.” He huffs, turning away and wandering back up the stairs, his footsteps seeming less menacing now.

The argument was done.

Your eyes catch a light outside the window, seeming to exist a far distance away. Maybe it was the fire of a hilichurl camp.

What time was it? Surely the sun would be up soon anyway.

Fine. You would leave then, no matter what.

When you got to your room, you actually did manage to sleep. Not nearly enough; An hour was nothing in the long run, but it was still just slightly enough to not feel entirely exhausted.

Still, the sun was up when you arose, and you lay in the bed, uncertain as to what would happen when you left the room.

If Diluc wasn’t going to apologise, you wanted nothing to do with him.

So, after a little while of resting, it was a surprise to hear a knock at the door. You were summoned to breakfast. Nearly the entire time, you and Diluc sat across from each other - an oddity indeed considering he would always insist that he wanted you seated beside him - this time, however, you were as far from his as possible within the confines of the seated table. The usually empty seat felt hard beneath you, not softened by an everyday presence. Your usual seat to his right - where your plate had been placed before you had taken it to where you were now - was empty.

Neither of you could look into each other’s eyes. The silence, broken only by the light clinks of cutlery, felt burdenous.

You expected him to say something, anything really. You could barely eat the food on your breakfast plate, and without any words, you didn’t feel all too comfortable anyway. You let out a quiet sigh and stood up, tucking in your chair and lifting your plate to take it back to the kitchen.

“Where are you going?” Diluc’s voice was quiet but the harshness in it was unmistakable.

“I’m not hungry.” You looked down at the plate in your hands. “I’m going to Mondstadt.”

Diluc stood up suddenly, pushing back his chair and stepping close to you. The sudden movement caused you to shutter slightly, and he pulled back a bit. Still, he tore the plate from your hands and placed it on the table. “When you return, be ready to have a serious conversation.”

Oh.

You opened your mouth to speak, but then huffed and turned away. “Right. I’ll look forward to getting yelled at again.”

Diluc scoffed, “Stop acting like a petulant child.”

“I’m not doing this right now, Diluc.” Your feet are moving before you can even think about it. This time, as you approached the door, no one was there to stop you. You left with no present company to watch over you, and you knew that today was going to be a long, long day.

——

Mondstadt thrives with life, as per usual. Because of how bright and pleasant the place is, any spec of gloom is extremely obvious on a day like this.

You took to the adventurers guild to take some commissions. Maybe killing some hilichurls or slimes would take your mind off of it all, or maybe just delivering some needed materials to someone.

The entire time you had been speaking to Katheryn, you felt eyes watching you, but you didn’t want to make it obvious you knew. Alas, it was only moments later that you startled at the feeling of a hand on your shoulder.

“No need to be so surprised.” The familiar voice chuckles beside you.

“Good morning, Kaeya.” You let out a soft sigh, the exhaustion of the day before wearing into you. You thanked Katheryn and turned your attention to Kaeya. His eyebrows twitched and his expression shifted as he studied you.

“What happened?” He asks rather blatantly, eyes clouding over. “Was it Diluc?”

You took a deep breath. “Wanna join me for commissions?”

Kaeya scans your eyes. “As long as you tell me what’s wrong.”

“Come on.” You nod, wandering out of Mondstadt with him.

The slowly falling night brought you back to Mondstadt. You agreed to go to the tavern with Kaeya, a subtle kind of thank you for spending time with you today. It wasn’t like you were doing anything else anyway.

The tavern was already busy before you got there, people crowding around for a nights drink. You subconsciously step towards Kaeya as if shading yourself away from the crowded atmosphere and he is wary of your proximity. He draws you to his side, a friendly notion, and steps inside before you.

Charles waves at you both from behind the counter. Kaeya quickly orders a round of drinks and takes you to a table away from the bar.

“Hey, look who’s been dragged in.” Rosaria wanders over, quietly making soft chatter with you. It wasn’t unusual for the two of you to spend some time together.

Kaeya eventually wanders away, grabbing your drinks and bringing them back over.

Time seemed to dwindle away, the mindless chatter with your friends giving you more than ample distraction from anything else that might have been happening.

“Master Diluc! Didn’t expect to see you here today.” Charles’ voice rings out.

Of course, that wasn’t going to last long.

You lift your head slightly, tensing up. Diluc is scanning the room, twisting his wrist lightly as he speaks quietly to Charles; The words miss you. You freeze as your eyes lock. For just a moment you’re caught in that discerning gaze before he nods at you and turns back to talk to Charles. Kaeya draws your attention back away, and you slip back into your conversation, not wanting to deal with anything else.

“I’ll get another round.” Rosaria gets up and makes her way through the tavern, leaning over the bar and making another order for the table.

“How many are we on?” You ask, already flushed from the… how many glasses had you even had?

“Five.” Kaeya laughs, leaning on your shoulder. “But now that the killjoy’s here, he’ll stop us from having our well-earned fun.”

“I heard that.” Diluc scoffed, passing by you.

“Good.” Kaeya wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you closer to him, more out of a delicate affection than anything else. Diluc’s eyes narrow at his brother, who just laughs in response.

“Get your hands off of-“

“Oh don’t worry, brother. I would never keep them somewhere they don’t want to be.” Kaeya mocks. “You, on the other hand, can’t say the same.” Even with his words, he loosens his hold on you and leans back a bit.

Rosaria returns with your round, greeting Diluc casually as she slips back into her seat. Your pissed off boyfriend wanders away back to his work.

It clicks in your hazy mind that the only reason he’s here is likely because you are. You laugh at the thought, then clink your tankard to the group and drink.

—

As the evening wears down, many people in the bar until it’s pretty much only your group and a few others left there. Diluc lets out a soft sigh as he watches you, trying to soften that jealous pounding of his heart. He takes a sip of his own drink - apple cider, of course. He could never slam back drinks the way that your group currently were. Where had the hours gone?

Oh, no. How many drinks had you had? Whatever was next, he swore to himself that he would make sure that it was watered down. At this rate, you were pretty much welcoming alcohol poisoning with open arms.

Kaeya, wobbly as ever, decides to be the one to approach the bar this time (mostly because Rosaria was leaning against the table, head folded into her arms as she groaned). Diluc shook his head. “No, no. The three of you will drink this whole tavern dry if I don’t stop you.”

“Oh, I’m not here to get any more.” He leans on the countertop. “I just want to know what the hell you did.” Kaeya motions over to you. You’re just giggling at Rosaria’s complaining, leaning over and patting her on the head.

“I’m not talking to you about this.” Diluc leans back, crossing his arms stubbornly.

“Suit yourself.” He straights up. “I should probably get her out of here before you say something stupid.”

“I’m not going to be saying anything stupid.” Diluc shakes his head, looking over the list of all the drinks you’ve had this evening. “You’re all wasted.”

“And yet, you haven’t said last call.”

Seemingly to spite him, DIluc immediately does. He signals over to Charles to round up the remaining people. He knew to leave you last.

Kaeya’s laugh is enough to haunt him. “You make this right, Diluc.” He runs his finger over the counter. “Otherwise I will.”

“Get out of my sight.”

The cavalry captain laughs again, then wanders over to your table. He practically drags Rosaria back up, but she pushes away from him and made her own way to the counter - always a good spirit, she paid for her own portion of drinks and left. Being a nun, she probably didn’t need to use the money elsewhere.

Kaeya was two steps away from just carrying you out the door, but through his drunk mind he finds the clarity to understand just how absolutely inappropriate that would be to do, especially in front of Diluc. Alas, you lean on his shoulder as he assists your steps.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Diluc’s voice calls out, as if to stop you both.

“Usual billing.” Kaeya calls back.

“No, no.” You both look back at him. He shifts on his feet, eyes locking with yours. “I’ll be damned if you go home with him.”

“Then damned you are.” You roll your eyes, turning away.

He calls your name softly. “Step away from him. Come here.”

You take a deep breath. “I am so glad I don’t have to remember any of this.”

Diluc places a glass of water in front of you. “Drink this. You wreak of alcohol.”

“And you wreak of your hatred.” You sit down in front of him, knowing that it wasn’t about to get better.

Diluc’s eyes flicker up to Kaeya. “Get out.”

“Not happening.”

“Kaeya, this doesn’t concern you.”

“Their safety is more than enough concern.”

“It’s alright, Kaeya, just wait outside.” You pipe in, not wanting even more stress.

Kaeya agrees, quietly slipping out the door. Charles is told to escort him away, an act which may have varying success.

Either way, you sat in front of Diluc, not sure what exactly to say to him.

“I’m tired, Diluc. I’m tired of this. I can’t put up with-“

“I’m sorry.” He blurts out, interrupting you. “Please, hear me out.”

“I’m not going to remember-“

“Then I’ll tell you again when you will.” He leans over the counter, not wanting to be apart from you. He calls your name again, as if to hold your attention, “Can we talk about this?”

“I think we talked about this already.” You groan. “Yesterday, plenty of yelling. The Maids and guards can confirm.”

Diluc takes a long breath out. You lift the glass of water and take an even longer sip.

Maybe the barrier of the counter between you made you feel better. But, as tears sprung to your eyes, you felt so, so much worse.

“Do you hate me?” You ask, your voice squeaking. “Do you want to break up with me.”

“No, Y/N.” He reaches for your hands, but you had pushed your stool too far away from him beforehand that he couldn’t. He circles around the bar and gently grabs both of your hands, soft enough in his hold for you to be able to pull away. “Don’t ever say that. I love you.”

“Then, why?” You sob, turning your face away from him, hands still in his. “Why did you yell at me? Why wouldn’t you talk to me this morning?”

“I…“ Diluc stops himself, taking a deep breath. “I was angry. We were both angry.” He shifts, pulling out a stool and sitting in front of you. “I wasn’t acting rationally.”

“When you said you wanted to talk this morning, what were you going to say?”

Diluc hesitates, gripping your hands just a little bit harder. “I was going to ask… I was going to ask if you were happy.” He admitted, quietly. “But I can’t do that. I can’t put you through that.”

You tug him toward you, pulling his hands close to your face. “Why would you say that? I love you.” You sob into his soft skin.

He takes his hands away from your gently, slipping them around your waist and pulling you close to him, into his lap. He tightens his grip. “I’m sorry.” He repeats. “I’m so sorry. I never want you to cry.” He feels his heartbeat heavily in his chest, a distraught washing over him. “Don’t ever destroy yourself like this again.” He runs a hand over your back.

You don’t say anything. You’re way too drunk for many more coherent thoughts to pass your lips. You lift your head and plant a soft kiss on his cheek, and he softly kisses your forehead, pulling you back to his chest so that you don’t try to kiss him anymore - He wasn’t about to let that happen, you were far too drunk.

Diluc was ashamed of his thoughts. His guilt, rising only when he saw you in the present company of his brother, showing affection and finding comfort anywhere except for him. He didn’t want to admit it to himself, nor to you, but as you cried into his shoulder, he couldn’t help the wave of disappointment in himself that washed over. Why could he never be there for the people who needed him most?

“Come on, finish your water, let’s get you home.” He insists, though he holds you tightly still until you stir.

You take the water, sipping it with a slight indignance. He would have to apologize to you again in the morning, but he would do anything to get you to trust him again.

(Part 2 here)

[thesolferino]

Favor

⤷ dream x f!reader.

⤷ genre: angst, fluff

⤷ word count: 8.4k

⤷ requested: yes, by this lovely anon!

— summary: dream asks you to pretend to be his girlfriend for a day. things only seem to go downhill from there.

It started as a favor.

On a quiet night in your apartment when you stared at your phone for way longer than your eyes could physically take and rolled around on the bed, talking to one of your best internet friends, Dream, he asked you for a favor. His voice was muffled through the mic on his phone, the one connected to his computer way cleaner, but neither of you could bother getting off FaceTime and call on Discord instead - yet you still heard him loud and clear, because you burst out laughing right after.

“What the hell did you just say?” you laughed, turning on your stomach and opening the call, now entirely focused on the timer that counted every second you spent talking to him instead of your Twitter timeline.

“It’s embarrassing, don’t make me repeat it!” And for that sole reason, you wanted him to repeat it, loud and clear.

“Is this why you were so insistent on me coming down to Florida? So I could pretend to be your girlfriend at your cousin’s wedding so your family doesn’t think you’re a loser?” you laughed, finding the situation entirely absurd as he sputtered, words mashing together, trying to defend himself.

“No! No, I wanted you to come here because we’re friends and I-I wanna meet you, this is just a… benefit, of sorts.” he replied, and you couldn’t help but laugh even harder at his poor attempt of trying to save face.

“Alright, I’ll bite.” you chuckle. “What’s in it for me?”

“Whatever you want.” he responded, much too quick. Your eyebrows raised.

“Whatever I want?” you parroted.

“Yes.” he confirmed. “I’ll buy you something, if you want; I’ll even pay you-”

“Pay me?! I’m not a whore, Dream!” 

“That is not AT ALL what I was saying!” he cut in, yelling as you burst into a new fit of laughter. “It’s just… I sort of already told them I have a girlfriend and I was just hoping you’d say yes ‘cause it’s gonna be very awkward if I show up without the girlfriend in question.” 

You put your head in your hands and he sort of dryly laughed at himself when he heard your palm hit your forehead. “What is wrong with you, man?” 

“Listen, it’s not gonna be so bad! Just stay by my side for a bit, look pretty, we’ll get some drinks, and then dip. That’s it, I promise.” he reasoned.

“And here I thought we were gonna make out in front of everyone. What’s a fake relationship if we don’t make a show out of it?” you sarcastically snickered, and could practically see his eyeroll from miles away.

“If that’s what you want, then we’ll do it, by all means.” he replied and you laughed, shaking your head in mild disbelief.

“Alright, well, if you already told them, I don’t have much of a choice, do I?” you huffed, pretending to be way more bummed out about it than you really were. “I’ll do it.” 

“Thank you so much, oh my God.” he replied and you chuckled at the sheer relief in his voice.

A few seconds of silence pass. “What’s the catch?”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“How do you want me to publicly embarrass myself in exchange for this favor?”

“Personally, I think that forcing you to tweet that tweet about pissing yourself in bed again and also tweeting that everyone should subscribe to me isn’t “publicly embarrassing” at all.” 

“Maybe I should’ve picked a different fake girlfriend.”

“Sucks to suck, pissbaby.”

The weeks leading up to your meetup felt like years, with every treacherous minute of you two talking over muffled mics and shitty webcams feeling longer than it should, your empty apartment feeling emptier and emptier by the day. Was it even possible to miss a person you hadn’t even met yet? 

It turns out that it very much was, because as soon as the painfully long weeks were up and you were finally metres away from him, you jumped in his arms like a woman finally seeing her soldier husband after the war, standing on your tiptoes while he bent down the best he could to hug you back. His chest rumbled with a warm laugh when you turned your head ever so slightly towards his ear.

“Hello, boyfriend.” And just like that, the warm turned into a groan of faux annoyance while you burst into laughter and he pulled away, scanning your face with an equally annoyed look.

“I should’ve never asked you for that. You’re never letting it go, are you?” Yeah, you were kind of annoying with the amount of corny boyfriend jokes you threw his way - you had to give him that. But then again, he crafted his own fate and now he must accept the consequences.

“Oh I’m sorry, I didn’t realise your majesty wasn’t appreciating the work I’m doing! I just won’t show up at that wedding, how about that?” you bit back, voice dripping with sarcasm.

“You’re such an idiot.” he laughed. “Give me those bags.”

A blissful week had passed, and he hadn’t pissed you off in real life nearly as much as you thought he would. It took a bit of getting used to to his family calling him Clay instead of his beloved internet username, and you did get a couple of suggestive looks from his mother the first few times she visited - you had a couple of “eye conversations” in which she never exactly asked if you were his girlfriend, and you never exactly denied it, but you knew both of you felt the weight of the unspoken words yet you had to keep everything secret and ambiguous. Or at least you thought you did, before he revealed to you that he told his mom the two of you were dating already. Seems like the glances were knowing and not questioning. Maybe you weren’t as good at eye conversation as previously thought.

Living with him was fine, mostly because he had godly air conditioning and a house that was probably way too big for him, and also a very cute cat that followed you everywhere and made living with a man for a full two weeks way more bearable. Finding out that he can’t cook was one of the most bizarre revelations about him that you’d had in the years of your friendship, and you demanded he watched as you made chicken wraps. You complained about how he was 21 and couldn’t cook for himself, he complained about how it’s 2021 and he can just order from Chipotle or something, dude.

A week of goofing around and trying to hide the fact the two of you temporarily lived together from the internet had passed quicker than it should’ve, and for the first time in seven days, Netflix was turned off and the two of you were dressing up for the wedding, ready to set off with his parents and younger sister. He spent ages trying to convince you to match with him, which was quite literally impossible because he wore a black suit and you brought a red dress, which resulted in the two of you roaming around a local mall at 10 am, half asleep, looking for a reasonably formal black dress, because of course Dream always got his way.

An hour of arguing and your fashion tastes clashing later, you picked an off shoulder black dress with a high slit, along with a pair of pumps, both of which you forced him to pay for, and went back home, ready to glam both of you up as much as humanly possible because you were not ready to let him show up in some horrendous pair of shoes and claim to be your boyfriend. 

“Is this okay?” you questioned, turning from the mirror to face him and let him be the judge of your shimmery black and white eyelids, spending way too much time on a makeup look for a wedding of someone whose name you didn’t even know. He blinked at you as his judging gaze washed over you like a wave, scanning you up and down while you nervously cocked your head, leg tapping in faux impatient annoyance to cover up the fact that you felt like prey under his eyes. 

“It’s… yeah, it is. You look good.” Dream confirmed, nodding his head at you in a movement that was way too quick and snappy and you turn back to the mirror with a huff, watching him stare right back at you. 

“Too much, right? I should try something else.” You say, grabbing your makeup remover wipes, but he cuts in before you can even wipe a single smudge.

“No, no, it looks good, I promise. Really good. Don’t touch it.” Something way too sincere in his voice makes the air tense, more tense than usual, but you drop it, deciding to just take the compliment with a tight lipped smile.

“Okay. You ready?” you ask, and he nods, nervously straightening out his suit before looking back at you with an anxious grin.

“Yeah, I think so. Do I look fine?” 

He did. He looked more than fine. You’d never seen him actually dress up for something and put proper care into his looks - he was practically forced into doing it by you this time as well - so seeing him in an actual black suit, all formal and expensive looking, messy dirty blond hair properly combed for the first time in ages, made you gulp and look away. You sort of never understood the argument that women and men can’t be friends because you were never attracted to one of your male friends, ever. Dream was born to be an exception to every rule, it seemed. 

Realising that you abruptly looked away, you attempted to awkwardly clear your throat and smile at him.

“Yeah, you do. Let’s go.”

During the ride there, his mother seemed to finally explode and the words that have clearly wanted to pour out of her mouth for ages finally came out. You supposed it was better for the poor woman, and did your best to suppress a laugh when Dream dramatically sighed and leaned against the window when she nosily spoke up. 

“So… since when have you and Clay been together? He’s told us absolutely nothing!” She spoke up from the passenger seat, shifting to look at you, excited smile plastered on her face and you politely smiled back, mentally noting that you’d have to bully the shit out of him for acting like his mom is embarrassing him in front of his 8th grade crush.

“Ah, we’ve been friends for a long while, but we only started dating a month or so ago, because it’s hard doing long distance and all that.” you said, hoping it would sound believable enough because the two of you rehearsed this a few days ago, writing out a whole backstory from how you started dating to what exact words he used when he asked you out. There were a couple of arguments here and there, such as the fact you refused to say you confessed you’ve been in love with him for years and he refused to say he admitted he’s been your “bottom bitch” for 3 years but in the end, you somehow managed to agree on a cohesive timeline of events.

“Oh, does that mean you’re going to move here?” she questioned, and that one didn’t surprise you either, Dream having prepared a full list of answers to questions that people might ask in your notes app. He was a perfectionist to the point it got on your nerves, but that had its own perks.

“No, but I’ll definitely visit more often, and if it goes well, I might as well move here.” you smiled back at her and she nodded, going back to staring through the windshield. You and Dream exchange a relieved glance that you hope his younger sister doesn’t notice.

“Let me tell you, I was waiting for you two to get together! He always talked about you, I was getting tired of him, you know that?” she giggled and you widened your eyes at Dream who, snapping out of somewhat of a daze, immediately jumped to protest, light blush adorning his pale cheeks. 

“No, I didn’t! I did not, mom, don’t lie to her.” he argued while all she did was laugh.

“Oh come on, it’s not embarrassing now that you’re together!” she kept going, and his younger sister joined in, to make it even worse.

“Yeah, you do talk about her a lot, not gonna lie.” she spoke up and his cold glare directed her way told you everything you needed to know, hanging on by a thread not to burst out laughing. He refused to even look your way, turning back to the window as his cheeks started heating up. You couldn’t help but let out at least a bit of a giggle, placing your hand on his arm in fake comfort.

“It’s okay, you can admit it now.” your tone borderlined on mocking and he knew you’d make fun of him for days to come so he stayed silent while the rest of the car burst into laughter.

The wedding was truly beautifully set up, set in a hotel wedding venue, walls painted in pure innocent white with hints of gold here and there, and you nudged Dream as the two of you observed in awe, asking what sort of money the groom had to be able to afford this sort of expensive venue. Nudging him proved to be way easier now, because you linked arms - you originally made fun of him for suggesting to walk like that instead of holding hands like normal people, telling him you’d look like you were at your high school prom, but he persisted, and you didn’t end up looking as goofy as you thought. 

“He’s a doctor or something, pretty sure.” he replied, quick feet trudging down the long hallways, your own struggling to keep up with him, especially in your heels. He seemed to be in a rush to sit and get it over with as soon as possible so he could avoid any nosy family members, but bad luck followed him everywhere, it seems, because as soon as you two entered the place where the bride and groom would unite, at least three different pairs of eyes locked on you, and you immediately saw a fairly elderly woman get up with open arms, staring at Dream with a grin on her face. You saw him immediately tense up, and almost laughed right then and there.

“There’s my boy! Oh, you’ve grown so much, come here!” The woman looked to be in her fifties and Dream let go of your arm to nervously laugh and fall into her hug, the two rocking from side to side as she kept going on about how it seemed that he grew taller and taller every time she saw him. 

When the two pulled away, her eyes fixed on you, judgingly scanning from head to toe and you suddenly realised why Dream tensed up the way he did - old white women sure had a way to make you anxious. Thankfully, he stepped in. 

“Aunt Bessie, this is Y/N, my girlfriend. Y/N, this is aunt Bessie, my mom’s older sister.” he generously offered the explanation you were so obviously lacking and you grinned, as if that information helped you in any way, and stuck out your hand in an offer of a handshake. However, she seemed to have different plans, because as soon as she heard the words “my girlfriend” her face lit up as if she won the lottery and her lips stretched into a smile, opening her arms for you the same way she did for him. 

“Oh my God, you finally got a girlfriend? Come here!” she said, shaking her head at your outstretched hand and gesturing you to return the hug which you quite hesitantly did, politely laughing as she hugged you tighter than you’d deem appropriate. Dream came from a family of huggers - that much was apparent from him, you guess, but you weren’t exactly prepared for this.

Aunt Bessie seemed to be way louder and screechier than expected, because the word “girlfriend” boomed through the room and off the snowy walls, and at least five other family members of his turned around to check who the lucky fellow that finally got a girlfriend was. Another one of his aunts seemed to notice the commotion and suddenly, another older woman with shoulder length, dyed blonde hair, along with her two younger kids, was hurling at you as well. 

“I always complained to him that it was about time he got a girlfriend! He’s a fine young man, no wonder you picked him, honey.” Aunt Bessie shot you a knowing look and you closed your mouth in a tight lipped smile in a feverish attempt to keep down the laugh that threatened to escape you. 

“Oh yeah, he definitely is.” you giggled, looking up at Dream again who looked like he wanted the earth below his feet to open and swallow him whole. Before you could nudge him in the ribs and tease him for hours to come, the other aunt suddenly spoke up.

“Clay! Oh my gosh, is that you?” she exclaimed, shocked grin on her face, and you briefly wondered if Dream ever even visited his family. He nervously smiled, obviously not really sure who this woman even is, but he hugged her back anyway, clearly walking the line between ‘happy to see his family’ and ‘insanely uncomfortable’.

“I haven’t seen you in so long, your dad hasn’t visited since we moved to Toronto! Look at how tall you are, you’re taller than my husband now! You used to be so tiny, whatever happened to you?” Upon hearing the word Toronto he seemed to realise who he was talking to as his eyes softened, and you wondered if he really was so expressive or you could just read him that well.

“I grew up, I guess.” He awkwardly laughed and she laughed harder than she should’ve before turning to you.

“Oh, and who is this?” She said, gaze periodically switching between him and you, a knowing smile on her face which told you she definitely knew who you were.

“Ah, this is my girlfriend, Y/N. Y/N, this is… my dad’s cousin, Mabel.” He introduced, large hand landing on your back, and you felt like you were experiencing déjà vu at the way her face lit up at the mention of a girlfriend. 

“Wow, it’s so nice to meet you, Y/N!” She said, energetically shaking your hand, before turning back to Dream. “You never told us you got a girlfriend! You’re finally planning on settling down, huh?” 

Your head snapped in his direction at the speed of light when she mentioned settling down, and you could see him tense up as well as he nervously laughed.

“Yeah, we haven’t visited in a while, so nobody from the family really knew. And, uh… we haven’t really thought of that yet, we’re taking it slow and everything.” He said and you were almost in awe at how good he was at bullshitting. The woman did nothing but laugh.

“Ah, don’t lie to me, I see the way you two look at each other! It’s your wedding we’ll be attending next!” She winked, and just as Dream got ready to fake laugh once again, her family called her over and she excused herself, walking off.

The two of you hurried to your seats as well, sitting down next to his younger sister. 

“Your family is insane, man, holy shit.” You laughed in disbelief, staring at him as he shook his head, clearly as distressed as you were.

“Literally nobody in this family gives a single fuck if I’m single or not except the old aunties. And I seem to have a shit ton of those.” He muttered under his breath. “The way you look at each other - I literally didn’t even look at you properly that whole time!” 

You cackled at that one, hitting his arm. “She’s right, Clay. You’re one fine young man, eh?” You nudged him as he groaned in embarrassment, only turning your way to glare at you. 

You didn’t get to tease him for much longer, though, because the organ started playing and the bridesmaids and groomsmen lined up, the groom standing at his designated place. The bride walked in, arms locked with her father, thin white veil covering her face as she walked down the aisle, looking angelic in her puffy wedding gown. Silky brown hair fell down her shoulders, curled towards the ends, and you could see the hint of blood red lipstick beneath the veil. She looked beautiful - the groom seemed to think so as well, because you could see him tapping the corner of his eye lightly, wiping any stray tears.

She finally made it to the end and stepped to face her soon-to-be husband as her father moved away, sitting back in his chair. The wedding officiant stepped up, and held a speech much longer than it should be, which just led you to zone out. 

One day you’d be beneath that veil, wouldn’t you? One day, you’ll face your fiancé the same way she is, and you’ll let your hearts link with a string that nobody but the two of you could snap. Who would that be, though? Who could you even trust with your heart in their hands? And you’re not aware of how and why and when, but your eyes shot up at Dream, whose eyes also glinted in that way where you knew he wasn’t paying attention, and maybe he was thinking about the same thing as you. Maybe one day, you’ll be attending his wedding, forcing one of your friends to play a fake boyfriend as he wipes his tears, waiting for his bride to get to him. 

It was disheartening, the thought of being a bystander while he locks lips with somebody else. You supposed you just liked being the center of attention, so you let yourself pretend you were his bride in your daydreams. Separating daydreams from rational thoughts was mandatory, because you weren’t sure how you’d explain to yourself that you can’t stand seeing Dream marry someone else. 

Dream, the infamous hopeless romantic, still seemed out of it, maybe even a little emotional, despite not being that close with either of the two. He was probably thinking about his own wedding as well, thinking about his future, the face he’d see when he pulled back the veil.

Just then, his eyes darted to yours, and you realised you were caught staring, snapping your head back to the couple that started reading their vows by now. You started going red from the neck up, cheeks on fire as you could feel his gaze burning into you. He turned back after a few seconds, though, probably assuming you stared at him because you were bored, and neither of you spoke, even though you kind of wish you did. What even is there to say, though? 

By the time you snapped back, the “I do”s were already being said, and her veil was getting lifted, showing her beauty to everyone present, and as they kissed the whole room bursted into cheers and applause in support of the newlyweds. The two exit, teary eyed, their parents follow close behind, and that’s when Dream’s family rushes both of you to your feet, following the two into the reception hall where the actual party would take place. 

From then on, the wedding is the same as any other. The two have their first dance, they give a welcoming speech, and Dream lets you stuff your face with cake and repeatedly refills your wine glass as repayment for dragging you into this whole thing. At some point, he stretches his hand out to you and asks for a dance like a rom-com main character, and you’re not sure exactly why he did that because he’s mostly terrible at dancing, but you had fun letting him twirl you until you got dizzy anyway.

You also realised just how much he did actually need a fake girlfriend, because it seemed like every twenty minutes some sort of relative of his would walk up to the two of you and congratulate him on “finally getting a girlfriend”. You ended up bullying him for that as well, wondering just how long he’s been single for if they’re all this surprised that he’s got a girlfriend, to which he just downed the glass of water he’d been sipping for half an hour and asked you about the weather.

His family took a few pictures with the new couple - you even got to speak to the bride at some point, congratulating her and wishing the two of them well, but in the span of a few hours, the wedding was over and the newlyweds made a great exit, signifying the end of the party. The two of you were driven home by his parents, and you waved them goodbye as you stumbled to the front door, your heels insanely uncomfortable and the red wine in your stomach weighing down on you; you just wanted to get out of this dress and into a pair of pajamas and pass out on his couch in the living room. 

That’s sort of exactly what you did - you half-assed taking your makeup off, wiping down your face a couple of times, deciding that was enough before changing into some worn pajamas and plopping down on the couch next to Dream who already claimed his place and sunk into the cushion while a random movie played on the TV. The two of you basked in the comfortable silence that surrounded you, the exhausted, tired type. You both appreciated the quiet and fell asleep sitting next to each other, wedding already forgotten.

That night, he went from Dream to Clay.

The departure was bittersweet. You left two days after that, your hug at the airport tight, warm, filled with a sugary sweet feeling you couldn’t quite place and sour acid that ate away at you because you didn’t want to leave in the slightest. His arms were warm, inviting, whispering for you to stay but you left anyway, waving him goodbye, setting off to home. 

It seemed like all your problems came and went with him, because a week later, at 3 in the morning while you were up editing a video, you got an all caps message on your Discord from Sapnap.

“YOU’RE DATING DREAM?”

You blinked at your computer screen, white letters blinding you in the dark, brain trying to keep up with why he even thought that. Within 10 seconds, another message, this time from Dream.

“so i told george and sapnap that we’re dating”

“don’t kill me pls” 

Yeah, you weren’t going to kill him, per se, but he definitely made your life a lot harder than it should be. You opened Discord, Premiere Pro and the unedited video abandoned, typing back to Clay quickly.

“WHY”

He responded immediately, as one panicked man does.

“they’ve been making fun of me for being single for ages now :(“

“we already did this fake dating thing before and it went perfectly fine”

“just play along for a month or so”

“pls”

You audibly sighed. And as if he could hear you, he started typing again.

“i’ll promote you on my channel more”

“just pls do it”

“you love me, right” 

Another sigh fell from your lips before you could stop it. Of course you did, because if you didn’t, there’s no way you would be playing into this. You typed back.

“fine”

He messaged back immediately.

“THANK YOU”

“LOVE YOU <333”

With a shake of your head, you mumbled “idiot” with the ghost of a smile flashing on your face, switching back to your video, opting to ignore Sapnap for a little bit. He could wait. 

Fake dating seemed pretty damn easy during the first week - you thought you were killing it by sending corny tweets and staged selfies so he could screenshot them and send them to the groupchat, giggling on call about how oblivious they are and how you’re fooling them so good, both of you opting to ignore the parts where they claimed they knew the two of you were gonna get together eventually. It was fun, lighthearted, and an excuse to flirt with someone you had nothing official with.

As much as all your problems came and went with Clay, though, they came and went with his friends as well, especially that hopeless man Clay called his best friend. 

Because yeah, of course Sapnap was the one to accidentally spill to the public that the two of you were “dating”.

George was streaming at what was apparently a normal time in the UK, not so much for Florida, and Clay was sleeping while you were watching his stream while making some food for yourself. It was going fine, a bit of a chill stream, and you leaned against the fridge as your oven preheated, tired eyes following his Minecraft skin. 

“Sophie, thank you for the dono! ‘Hey George, I love your videos, just wanted to ask if you were speedrunning with Dream today?’” he read out, and you could faintly hear Sapnap join the stream through your headphones. 

“No I’m not, Dream’s… I don’t know what Dream’s doing right now, actually. He’s not responding to me, though. Probably talking to his girlfriend still.” he continued, exaggerating the last part mockingly, still playing into the whiny role of being upset that Clay was ditching the two of them for you. That majorly woke you up, though, as you stood straight on your feet immediately, because oh no, nobody was supposed to know.

You exited out of the Twitch app quickly, letting the stream play in the background as you tried to fish for Sapnap’s profile on Discord and text him as quick as possible, trying to warn him to not let anybody know, but before you could do it, you heard his laughter clear in the stream.

“Yeah, Y/N, his sweetie poo.” Sapnap said, causing George to laugh even louder, before moving onto the next topic, and your heartbeat picked up an insane amount, nails loud and probably damaging your phone screen as you typed as quickly as humanly possible to yell at him because this was not planned, at all.

You heard him go quiet after you shot him a couple of messages over Discord (“SAPNAP” “ARE YOU FUCKING STUPID” “WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU” “NOBODY KNOWS YET” “IM GONNA FUCKING KILL YOU”), type something to George who then fell quiet as well for a few seconds, pure horror on his face, and then went back to streaming as if nothing happened while Sapnap profusely apologised to you on his and George’s behalf.

No apology could fix what had already been done, though, and you were left alone with the warzone that was Twitter who had already speculated the two of you were dating long before while Clay peacefully slept somewhere in his house at 4 am in Florida. You bombarded him with messages and waited until he woke up ‘cause what were you even supposed to do?! 

You chose to spend your time finishing the pizza you were originally supposed to make and almost burnt your whole apartment down because you forgot the oven was on for a whole hour while yelling at Clay’s idiotic best friends. You yelled at Sapnap, who kept apologising to you, you yelled at George, who yelled back that it’s not that big of a deal because people were bound to find out anyways, and you yelled at Clay, because he was the guilty one somehow for not being awake during your breakdown. 

He did eventually wake up though, to the shitshow that were his notifications with at least thirty messages from each of you, messages from his other YouTube friends who were fairly surprised, and his entire fanbase going ham on Twitter. He was surprisingly calm about it - calmer than you were, anyways, and sheepishly said over the phone that the fake dating thing may have to go on for a little longer since you couldn’t just date for a month and then break up, and you were sort of okay with that.

And of course, the business side of him awoke at that moment, and he giddily told you about the amount of views the two of you could pull if you did the same shit you do with George and Sapnap anyway, but on livestream. 

You rolled your eyes.

And then agreed anyway. 

And so, the charade began.

His Twitter statement was up shortly, telling the people that you’d been dating for a couple of weeks and weren’t planning to tell anybody yet until a certain someone spilled their guts live, and the fact Dream was dating someone, let alone another popular streamer, took the internet by storm. You expected hate, and you got quite a bit of that, but the people that had shipped the two of you before were certainly more than delighted and a lot of Clay’s fans were supportive. 

Now, both of you had excuses to do chill streams together and just hang out and you took the opportunity and ran with it. 

You’d sit and play Geoguessr or just try and speedrun Minecraft a bunch of times for hours on end, doing stupid bits and things you’d be doing offline anyways, with a little more flirting than usual, because that’s what made it interesting.

“Oh this is France, for sure.” you claimed one night, two or three weeks after the secret was officially out, chewing on the fries you bought for this specific occasion, streaming on his alt to a few thousand people. 

“You think so? It could be Belgium, too.” he responded, humming in thought as he looked around.

“I know so.” you responded.

“How?” 

“I just do. Gamer intuition, babe.” you said, and he wheezed at your response, repeating the words gamer intuition under his breath.

“No, seriously. It is France, I know it is, I’ve seen so many pictures of that place I know it like the back of my hand now. That’s Lyon, or something.” you continued, plopping another french fry into your mouth.

“You have? Why do you know so much about France, that’s so random.” he responded, opening the map and pointing to France, although he keeps looking around, unsure of his decision.

“I dunno, I like it there. I wish I could move there.” you replied.

“Why, though?” 

“It’s pretty and heavily romanticised! Just like me!” you joked and he laughed, before letting you continue. “I dunno, it’s the city of love. Be a little romantic.” 

“The… the city of love is whatever city the two of us are in.” he said, and it took a few seconds for you to process the joke before letting out a fake disappointed sigh.

“I can’t believe I’m dating someone as corny as you.” 

At that, he bursts into wheezes, and you follow along, enjoying the sound of his laughter coursing through your headphones more than you used to a few weeks back. It feels nice, feels right, acting like this. You like calling him your boyfriend more than you think you should. 

A few weeks go by, and it feels all too natural. It feels too natural, talking to him first thing in the morning when you’ve barely even had your coffee, calling him pet names, throwing sweet words at each other publicly like they mean nothing. It feels all too natural, and nice, and all too right, and you don’t even notice when the two of you cross the line between public and private, and you’re stuck making stupid jokes about making out when you first see each other when there’s nobody to witness them except the walls of your rooms, but you don’t like thinking about that, because you know it’ll bring nothing but confusion. The current this that the two of you have is perfect to you, perfectly lighthearted and funny and fun, and you intend on keeping it that way, refusing to think about it in any way past jokes.

That is, until you can’t anymore.

It’s late, again, and you’re staring at his contact name on your phone screen, lazily lying on the bed. It reminds you of a night from roughly 3 months ago, when your whole friendship seemed to change in the few seconds it took you to process what he’d asked of you, and it feels weird, but nice.

“My mom really likes you, you know?” Clay breaks the quiet that you’ve learned to appreciate in his presence, and you exhale through your nose, the noise just short of a chuckle.

“Yeah?” You laugh, and he does as well.

“Yeah.” He reaffirms. “She thinks you’re a great girlfriend. Apparently I seem brighter ever since we got together.”

You laugh again. “I am a great girlfriend, to be fair. She’s totally right.” 

“Well, I wouldn’t know that. If you’re as good of a girlfriend as you pretend to be, though, then you’re amazing.” He says, and words fly out of your mouth before you can stop them. 

“Yeah? You wanna find out?” The flirty nature is nothing strange to the two of you, but this time it feels kinda different, it feels like you’re stepping into dangerous territory that there’s no coming back from. You feel like you’ve ruined everything, for some reason.

He laughs, like normal, though. He laughs like nothing happened at all, and you’re so, so grateful for that.

“Sure, let’s do it. You’re about to unpack the full Clay boyfriend experience.” He snickers and you laugh as well. 

“That means I just unlock the dick as well as the personality.” you respond, quick as always, and the wheeze that escapes him is so loud that it makes you laugh too.

“...Unlock the dick…” he repeats through another wheeze and you nod, laughing.

“Yeah! I mean I’m literally experiencing the boyfriend experience without actually having a boyfriend, it’s fuckin’ great.” you say and he hums.

“You could have one, though.” 

The implications are crazy, his words are crazy, he’s crazy and everything that he could mean and couldn’t mean by that is driving you crazy too, brain faltering and heart seeming way too big for your chest to contain it. It’s silent.

“I could, I guess.” 

You choose to say, and he switches the topic naturally, like he never said anything.

Things are never the same again.

It’s not in a bad way. Sure, it is kind of a bad way for the feelings you’re trying to push down inside you, a bad way for hot nights when the unbearable heat forces you to stay up even when you don’t want to and you have no choice but to think about why you feel the way you feel as you melt into the burning sheets below you, a bad way for when he jokes about finding somebody else and you feel your stomach churning. A bad way for realising that this fake dating thing is really getting to you, but not a bad way in general.

Maybe it’s in a good way. Maybe the underlying implications whenever he makes jokes about making the relationship real are good, maybe the way he calls you in the middle of the night when he’s anxious and freaking out and defends himself by saying: “You’re my girlfriend, you’re always there for me, I just figured I could call you.” and you end up wondering if it’s possible to say jokes in such a vulnerable state or if he’s serious is good, maybe the way it’s been a few months and he won’t tell his own best friends that it was a joke the whole time is good, maybe the way you confronted him about it and he said he likes having you as his girlfriend is good. 

Maybe the way the two of you are always walking the line between joking and being serious, between being friends and something more, between lies and pranks and emotional investment and fear of committing, and the way you’re always trying to push the other off, is good. 

The fans love it. The fanart is incredible (serves especially well for those hot nights when you can’t fall asleep and you scroll, watching yourself fall in love with Clay in every universe, tales told by people who observe your story and find it worthy enough to retell in their own words, to take the love you pretend to have and turn it into something real), people love to gush over the compliments he sprinkles in at random times during conversation and the general flirty dynamic is loved by many, pulling in more views and attraction for you. 

And you suppose that’s good too, but at some point, the good warps into bad, bad warps into terrible, and you wonder if this is all even worth the sleepless nights, wondering if he feels the same way.

Those thoughts haunt you more and more often every day. When you wake up, and text him first thing in the morning, your brain acknowledges that the camera is off - nobody’s around, people aren’t listening, so why are you still playing the role of a girlfriend and starting up a conversation with him when you haven’t even brushed your teeth properly? When you’re editing in the middle of the day and he calls to keep you company, making more stupid boyfriend jokes, your stomach flips in a weird way that makes you hate him, hate the way he can joke about these things so freely, like it doesn’t hurt him. Like it doesn’t affect him like it affects you. 

But, as much as you wish you could hate him, you couldn’t bring yourself to, and that was the worst part. Because, in reality, whenever he laughed you’d smile without realising you did, whenever anything exciting happened to you he was the first one you went to, whenever you wanted to laugh or cry or sit in silence for hours or complain you always went to him, the one person who you know would listen. In reality, whenever he made a joke about giving up on the fake dating and making it real, you wished so bad that he was serious this time, that this was what it took and he’d crack and all of your suffering would end.

It eventually happens.

It’s a pretty chilly morning, birds chirp outside and the sun that slowly rises is covering the kitchen floor in a golden hue as you pour milk into your cereal with one hand and hold your phone in the other, letting Clay ramble about whatever it was this time, when he brought it up.

“So, when do you wanna come down to Florida again?” he asks casually, and you almost drop the gallon of milk in your hand. 

“What?” 

“I said, when are you coming down to Florida again? Last time you came was pretty fun.” he says, and an empty silence follows. There’s an unsaid “I miss you” that you don’t hear, and he’s too afraid of saying it. 

“Florida wasn’t exactly on my schedule this month, man.” you say, placing your phone on the counter for a second. Clay sure knew how to surprise a person.

“Well put it down, then.” he jokes, and you hum.

“What, you got another wedding coming up?” you giggle and he groans - you never really stopped making fun of him for that wedding.

“No, I don’t. Can’t a man just miss seeing his beloved girlfriend?” It’s unbelievable how quickly dread can wash over you as soon as he makes one of those jokes. You were convinced the mix of anxiety and butterflies that appears in your stomach was gonna kill you sometime soon.

“He can, he’s just being weirdly insistent.” you argue nonetheless. “But sure, I’ll consider it.”

You do more than consider it - in a few weeks, you’re back at the airport, and falling into his arms has never given you such an adrenaline rush in your whole life. Something about having him wrapped around you, close to you, the warmth of his body radiating into yours sent you spiraling, head clouded with nothing but love and the fact that you wish you could stay there forever. You wished you could press pause and cherish the moment, let yourself bask in that feeling of pure love, pure adoration that you helplessly drowned in. But you couldn’t, and you left his arms feeling oddly empty. 

Hiding the fact that you were unapologetically head over heels for him proved to be a hundred times more difficult when you were right there, next to him, talking to him, when you could just kiss him any second, feel his lips on yours and nobody would stop you - the opportunity was right there, looming over you, the devil on your shoulder taunting you, telling you to do it. 

You got to wake up in the same house as him, watch his hair stick out in different directions and his raspy morning voice as he complained about the smell of your coffee, watch his eyes glint whenever he talked about something he liked and observe as he carried around Patches like a little baby. You got to experience every bit of domestic without the consequences of committing, and you wondered just how far this would go. For how much longer would the two of you blatantly ignore the fact that you were a couple that slapped the title “fake” on it because you were cowards who refused to admit what this truly was. 

Not for long, apparently, because you grew tired, and decided to put an end to everything on one random Thursday night - and if he hated you forever for it, then so be it. 

You were sitting on his couch, watching a random movie together, drowning in one of his Dream hoodies while you chewed the popcorn he made. It was dark outside, just past midnight, and you could see the branches of a tree swaying calmly through one of the nearby windows - the silence while he scrolled through his phone lazily was comforting too, everything was lazy and serene and it would’ve been perfect if it wasn’t for the constant anxiety that gripped you by the throat whenever you were in his close proximity, the nervousness that killed you, the upset feeling of wanting to cuddle up with him but knowing you can’t because you guys are just friends, and nothing more.

The couple on the screen kiss while a violin plays in the background - how fitting. Maybe that’s what pushes you to the edge, or maybe you were just that sick and tired.

You were exhausted, beyond exhausted. Your eyes were tired, the anxiety was morphing into annoyance and anger and you were ready to give up on it all. If this ended the friendship, at least you two had a good run. Your heart couldn’t take it anymore.

“You know, you still owe me a favor in return for pretending to be your girlfriend.” you say, and you sound gone, zoned out, more than you wish you were. You hear his phone turn off with a click.

“Yeah? What do you want?” Clay asks, and you blankly stare at the TV for a few seconds before turning to face him, eyes burning. 

“Kiss me.” 

It’s silent. The characters on screen are arguing. You hear the wind through one of his open windows.

“What?” he asks, voice cracking, and his expression falls. You’ve fucked it. Oh well.

“I want you to kiss me. Kiss me like you mean it. Kiss me like someone’s watching and you wanna make it believable.” you say, eyes boring into his, your words having nowhere near as much of an effect on yourself as they do on him. Your eyes sting like they’re being lit on fire, and your throat is sort of closing up, but it’s fine. “Let me have this before I go, because once I leave, I don’t wanna do this anymore, Clay. I can’t pretend like I don’t want you to introduce me as your girlfriend and fully mean it. I can’t lie to your face anymore.” 

Silence. Deafening silence, once again.

“I love you.” he blurts out, and you don’t even register it at first. “I don’t want this shit to be fake either. God, I really don’t. It hasn’t been fake for a while now, at least not on my part. I’m sorry, it’s just- it was easier to keep this bit going than it was to actually admit that I’m… into you.”

And once again, the room falls into silence, much like it always does whenever the two of you share moments like these.

And then, you burst into laughter.

“So… so you mean to tell me, that both of us have liked each other this whooooole fucking time, and just refused to admit it and ‘pretended to date’ instead?” you burst into giggles, and he looks sort of hesitant to laugh, but he does anyway.

“I mean… yeah? I was waiting for you to call me out for doing all that when nobody was watching! Why did you never call me out?! Don’t blame me, I made it so damn obvious that I wanted you!” he protests, and you almost can’t believe what you’re hearing.

“Excuse me? You should’ve just fucking told me instead of making a million and one jokes about how I’m your girlfriend! We’re not in middle school, Clay!” you argue.

“Yeah, but I thought you’d catch on and talk to me about it at some point! You never called me out for anything!”

“So what, I’m supposed to just read your mind now? You’re fucking unbelievable.” you huff, crossing your arms over your chest and turning away in annoyance. As soon as a warm hand lands on your shoulder, though, the annoyance melts like wax under fire, leaving nothing behind.

“I still haven’t returned that favor, you know?” he whispers in your ear, breath fanning your neck, closer than he should be. The hairs on your neck stand up as you turn back to Clay, who wore a mischievous grin and a glint in his eyes that suggested no good. 

You suppose bad can be good, sometimes. 

As his lips press onto yours, that theory is proven true, because he sends a flicker of fire burning down your spine, spreading into your limbs, making your fingertips electric as you pulled him in closer, hand snaking up to grip at his hair - the everlasting grin against your own proves, once again, to be no good as his hands slip under your hoodie and grip your sides, but you think you enjoy this sort of bad. 

They sneak up further, and you hear him chuckle into the kiss as your insides melt at his touch. The two of you silently agree that maybe he should ask for favors more often.