#meme: unsent texts

[forgedcold]

› Unsent texts.▮

-Fortress Maximus and/or Cerebros

Send me 💬 or "unsent texts" I'll share three texts my muse typed but never sent yours.

Megatron doesn't deny the pettiness he feels nor his lack of desire to move beyond it. "Enemy of my enemy, maybe," he thinks. His curiosity feels damning as he considers reaching out to Fortress Maximus.

TXT » Perhaps the one thing we might have in common is a mutual hatred of Prowl.

Hatred, however, isn't likely the best way to form a friendship of sorts. He doesn't trust Fortress Maximus to not resent him; after all, he was responsible for who Overlord became. Megatron deletes the message, not wanting to be the one to potentially reopen old wounds.

Cerebros, perhaps.

TXT » I heard you are a healer of sorts — able to help restore others to higher function after otherwise traumatic injuries. I wonder what you might know about healing surviving victims of shadowplay?

No. Too much. It leaves room for questions to be asked. Megatron deletes the message.

TXT » Did you still need a ride?

Or would the idea of being on a ship resembling the Lost Light be damaging? There are no phase-sixers hidden in the basement this time. Megatron deletes the message — likely, and per usual, he is too late.

[mastermegatron]

💬

Send me 💬 or "unsent texts" I'll share three texts my muse typed but never sent yours.

TXT » Do I have to be your enemy for four million years and stain my hands with your blood for you to finally believe me? There could be 10,000 Optimus' from my universe vying for my attention and I would ignore them all just for a chance with you.

TXT » I hate that they hate you. I would destroy every single universe where anyone dares breathe hatred for your name. I would build a throne for you from their heads and fashion a crown from the dying light of their sparks. They don't deserve you.

TXT » Somehow, you became the universe I imagined for myself. I cannot bear to lose you.

[celestialprompt]

send me 💬 or "unsent texts" i'll share three texts my muse typed but never sent yours.

[ducknotinarow]

2k7 Mikey Ariel - #

| send me “#” for cell phone headcanons about our muses including

  "I don't like you snooping through my phone, but I guess I don't mind talking about one of my nieces either? Nah it's chill go ahead!"

                         

 - what your muse’s name is in mine’s phone          

'Squirt'

"I guess that losses it's meaning seeing how big she got! I mean have you see her dude! She's is damn tall! Comes in handy though, if I need a hand grabbing something she doesn't mind helping out. Very much like her dad that way. But nah it was never about her height in the first place. Maybe cause I was one of full 'adults' around that just played with the girls when they grew up. And one more often around with not much to do. I got to spend a good deal time around Ari. Since Sums would go to school here and there. Ari was like my little sidekick ya see? And what I?" he waits for any chance to figure it out "I'm a big turtle, and back then she was a little turtle. Well sorta turtle. Anyway! were like Crush and Squirt! that's why shes still Squirt in my phone. I still call her that but I don't think she knows I don't mean it in terms of her height."

                 

- what your muse’s picture is in mine’s phone                

    [image description] A clearly obvious kid's drawing it may be hard to make out to others but it's clearly Mikey as the Turtle Titan his framed super hero persona. with another standing beside him smaller in size but also dressed up like a hero. Clearly meant to be Ariel's hero character.

"Course, I remember Ari's drawing. It's been on my phone since well forever. Once Don made her own t-phone? I new exactly what I was going put for her photo. It's sorta embarrassing but having someone look up to you? when you feel like the family screw up? it's well nice. I guess that's why it hurt so much when she got mad at me for a time. Ari always made me feel like I was no different from my brothers. And seeing how I always sort was down on myself and compared to them too much? Yeah. Having Ari always excited to tell me about her swims show me things she found. Want to see what comics I had or ask about stores about the turtle titan? I dunno maybe I just ate up the attention. Might not be that deep heh."

- what your muse’s ringtone is in mine’s phone                    

  Firework by Katy Perry

'Cause baby, you're a firework

Come on, show 'em what you're worth

Make 'em go, "Oh, oh, oh"

As you shoot across the sky

"I love Katy Perry, but this song always makes me think of Ari, shes very him timid and quite reserved even would be a good way to put it I guess. Sure sure we're mutants and such but Ari's always been even more like that even around her family and such. I don't know I feel like she lacks confidence why Sums is a good match to her cause shes more daring. Helps her sister to move and such. But I feel if Ari really just found it in herself to drop what holds her back? I think she find shes just as bright. I just find this song very fitting for her and wish she find it in herself to not hold her self back too much."

 - my muse’s last text to your muse

[text] Ari how do emoji's wok?

[text] 🍎🐕🥤🏫🤣

[Text] summer sends a ton? I'm confused ._. Do they mean different things?!?!

---

[Text] ari I made sure we got more peqnut butter for Pudg3 don't worry!!

---

[Text] squirt hey squirt!!

[Text] gues

[Text] what!

[Text] coney Island closing down for the season. Means?

[Text] you me and sums gonna go have fun!

[Text] it's fine casey helped out there I know I turn stuff on there

----

[Text] ari I'm sorry really (not sent)

[Text] I didn't knkw I really didn't! (Not sent)

[Text] can we talk? (Not sent)

[Text] hey I saw we had no peanut butter so wanted to see if you needed it for the fish? (Not sent)

[akirathedramaqueen]

There's one piece of concept art that made me see the entire Apology Tour disaster in a different light.

So, we've been talking with @warblogs17282 about Stolitz and how their break-up ended up playing out in the 'Apology Tour' episode.

Why ended up? Well, there's a collection of concept art which, to my limited understanding of this craft, is one of the first steps in the production process of animation. This post by @birdy-babe includes a great chunk of it, shared by artists after the episodes aired (like storyboards, but much more stylised, showing how different some original ideas were). Long story short, one of the concept arts from the 'Apology Tour' episode suggests their quarrel was originally meant to be much harsher.

A short summary of the concept art to see what we are dealing with

In the background, you see a lot of apology postcards and silly cutesy stationery, suggesting Blitzø is in the middle of his Apology Tour.

The contact name isn't 'Stols' but 'Bird Dick,' implying their relationship is at an earlier stage, with less respect—at least on Blitzø's part.

There's a photo partially cut by the edge of the messages screen. From the signature gloves and boots, cowboy hat covering Blitzø's private parts, and visible nipples, it appears to be a nude image—replaced in later stages of development with stupid gay affirmation memes (as hard as it is to believe, I couldn't imagine there could be anything worse than the Striker horse gay jokes... well, it could, my dudes, it fucking COULD).

There are three messages, one of which is unsent:

"Stolas, cum awwwwwwn, u no u want it :)"—likely attached to the nude;

"Dude just talk to me"—desperation crawls in; he finally realises the shit has hit the fan;

"Im sowwy :("—an apology, but the text remains unsent, perhaps because it seems pointless, given that the 'Not Delivered' notifications and warning signs indicate Stolas has blocked his number.

Why do I find this fascinating, and why does it fill me with immense hope?

Because they still fucking care so much, and neither has completely closed the door on the other. By comparing the concept art to the final product, you can see how many intentional choices were made in dialogue, visuals, and behaviour to make it clear that these two idiots still want things to continue. Stolitz is meant to fucking live.

Now, if you want to see some comparisons—evidence, really—let's dive into each other's changes, focusing on what we can gather from the concept art.

Blitzø's side

Change 1—thank gods, no nudes. The gay memes are sillier and a bit lighter. Of course, they still showcase utter disrespect, a horrible prejudice against sexuality, and a poor understanding of how deeply Stolas was hurt, but I find them... less bad.

Change 2—no more 'Bird Dick.' Blitzø has actually come up with a real nickname for Stolas! Feelings are boring for you, huh, Blitzø? I can almost hear the song’s lines: "O-oh, hooked, addicted you might say, conflicted in a way…"

Change 3—Blitzø's attempts to apologize now show much more contemplation. Since Stolas hasn’t blocked him, Blitzø knows his words aren’t just being thrown into the void. Although the 'unsent' detail remains, it now carries real weight and impact.

All three changes are seen in these two GIFs.

He knows he did wrong. He knows he wants to salvage it. He might not yet know how to do it healthily, but he tries—he tries so fucking hard!

Look at the range of raw, cutting emotions as he speaks to Stolas and finally delivers his apology—probably the only one he genuinely meant. Well, maybe except for Verosika, a bit later.

It's not that it's hard for Blitzø to say 'sorry'���we've seen him do it a lot lately. He's actually quick to apologise and take responsibility, so Stolas's remark about him not feeling any remorse couldn’t be further from the truth. But the fact that he isn't running away this time—chasing after Stolas and trying his best to mend things—is drastically different from how he treated Verosika back then.

Stolas's side

Here’s the moment that struck me deep. It’s the only change, since the concept art shows Blitzø’s POV, but it’s such a significant one.

Do you think Stolas has moved on? Do you think he’s done with Blitzø? Not convinced, even when he’s literally singing about still wanting Blitzø?

Well, here’s your proof—he didn’t block Blitzø. They scrapped that.

More than that, the entire interaction emphasizes that Stolas isn’t pushing Blitzø away for good.

How do I know this? Stolas is very insistent on using phrases like 'for now,' 'right now,' and 'now' throughout his attempts to tell Blitzø off.

Here are some citations:

"I was hoping my lack of 'ha-ha's' in response to the photos you sent me would be an indicator I didn't want to talk right now."

"Seeing you right now is hard!"

"I'm tired of this! I'm uncomfortable with how you're speaking to me now!"

Why is this so important? Because he isn’t asking Blitzø to leave him forever. All he’s asking for is time.

Even while hurt, Stolas gives Blitzø plenty of chances to explain himself civilly. Look at the hopeful glances each time Blitzø shows any glimpse of genuineness.

Stolas fucking hopes Blitzø will take back all the cruel things said and brash actions done.

You know, Stolas... I've spent the entirety of this morning listening to love ballads, and that was...

For what?! You want me to be like, "Oh sorry, this entire time I assumed the worst because I was convinced a prince could never love someone like me and I've let my self-hatred stop me from apologising to anyone I could ever care about!"

You see the furrowed brows and the sad look? Stolas hopes for the best... but gets the worst because Blitzø isn’t there yet.

I’d even go so far as to say Stolas is acutely aware that Blitzø uses his brashness as a shield to protect himself. He literally sang about it in 'Just Look My Way.'

Unless it's me? And no matter what in this world I could give, it's not enough to get through these walls you've conjured up to live.

So, what gives?

Is this the behaviour of people who want to give up on a relationship they still clearly hold dear?

No. Even when they’re angry, aggressive, hurt, or drunk, they still seek understanding and forgiveness. They continue to listen and try.

They might lack the skills and may choose the wrong time, place, or words to express what truly matters...

One person, scared of being rejected so much that he unconsciously conveys this message by saying, "You don’t have to stay here with me," and carrying it throughout the whole conversation...

The other, coming to terms with his feelings, admits them, and his fears, a bit too late—when his romantic interest is too drunk to comprehend anything…

And in both cases—self-loathing, self-hatred, doubts, scars, trauma… and a lack of hope.

But there is hope. No, this is reassurance, my folks.

You know when it's hardest to stay in a relationship? When it’s hardest to come and say, "I am sorry," when it’s hardest to still love the person?

When you’re hurt. When they’ve hurt you.

And, despite that, you still come to them and still want to talk to them.

If this isn’t ironclad evidence that this is more than just a fling or a couple of fun sex dates, I don’t know what is.

And the 'Apology Tour' fucking proves it, rather than ruins it. It only strengthens the point. It’s easy to live in happiness, but it’s so hard to go through it while you’re in pain. When you see them doing that, you realise it means everything to them.

Stolitz is to live.

[familyabolisher]

haphazard assortment of thoughts on the unwanted guest:

firstly, it really does have to be said—crazy good, probably my favourite of all the tlt short pieces, and i say that as someone who lost my mind over as yet unsent for like a week. excellent conceit and excellent execution, just a really gorgeous piece of writing. the play format of course reminds me of what abigail says to harrow in htn—that the river bubble is a ‘play [she’s] directing’—the inside of one’s head as a stage in which other actors can intervene & whereby mileage can be gotten out of Symbolism as immediately “real,” tangible presences that the kind of realist baggage that a more quotidian prose form would usher in would probably falter in accomplishing. it’s a lot!! i think even if i wasn’t already a tazmuir writing style defender (contra the insistence that she’s yknow homestuck fanfiction serial numbers filed off hack) then this would have had me floored anyway. 

the play format also works in the way that muir’s general dexterity in form and willingness to really make use of craft as a technical space where discourse can be generated always works—i’m talking about the ‘fanfictiony’ voice in gtn which manages to say something both about fanfiction and about the text itself, the use of the dramatis personae as a space where atmosphere can be established and plot points hinted towards (thus blurring the lines between what is and is not diegesis), the drastic shifts in style between different close thirds, the shifting from third- to second- to epistolary first-person, the use of poetry both diegetic and not (the noniad, the epigraph poems…), the mimicry of the ‘voice’ of the king james bible in the nona epilogue—she never stays in one place for too long and she never seems to stick to one central style or form, and it really works in her favour. insofar as tlt as a whole is a very ‘patchwork’ kind of work, building itself up from its big big index of references and intertexts and memes with hugely variant levels of ‘prestige’ or legitimacy attached to them, the ‘patchwork’ use of form really works in muir’s favour. however i am also fuming because i was right in the middle of writing a tlt fic which jumps into a play format two-thirds of the way through and now my idea doesn’t look ORIGINAL but ANYWAY—

& i really do need to flag my good friend vee’s mercy/augustine fic, which makes use of a similar conceit and pulls it off masterfully—i am deeply jealous of vee’s talent and i think the unwanted guest makes this piece (from 2021!) shine even more, if anything.

i am DYING to see where muir is going with the use of hamlet, of all things—dulcie quoting it to palamedes immediately catapulted my mind back to abigail’s reference to ‘that undiscovered country’ in htn. obviously muir likes to drop contemporary (or contemporarily canonical) references and turns of phrase all over the place, but the attention drawn to the quote as diegetically referential (“I like that. Is it from something?” / “Yes. It’s complicated.”) has me wondering about a) the survival of ‘pre-res’ literatures ~over the river and like WHY and b) what a thematic interlocking of tlt and hamlet can do, here…….real aveheads remember cytherea ophelia theory where i tried to use ophelia as a point of reference for teasing out some arguments about cytherea and death and aesthetics and white femininity and whatnot. all of which is to say i need to sit with this hamlet reading a lot more but i love it, i am so here for it.

of course ‘kissing or feeding, we can’t be sure’ calls to mind ‘how meat loves meat,’ alecto biting harrow’s mouth by way of a kiss…and the general thematic throughline of, you know, certain practices of love as practices of consumption, naberius later being figured as the ‘meat’ in question contains echoes of this eroticism which ofc guides the contours of the necromancer/cavalier dynamic, eroticism as a currency of power, we know all of this stuff because it’s all over the text but i am just thumbs-upping it from the sidelines

the coffins had me thinking of utena’s black rose arc, which is a fun link to make considering the equivalent moment in the main body of nona is also referencing utena, ie. with the ‘rules’ of the duel being that cam has to get the handkerchief out of ianthe’s pocket as kind of an equivalent to skewering the rose. i feel like the tlt/utena overlap is pretty self-explanatory but it’s just fun to see the fingerprints all over lol

i think a lot of this was treading old ground thematically (erotics of consumption, dog motifs, we’ve seen it already!) but i will say that i did Yell Out Loud over ‘who's she got dawdling behind her but that creature—tugging visibly at her leash like an overeager dog.’ reminded of the other memorable use of ‘leash’—’even the devil bent for god to put a leash around her neck’—and, of course, the endless parade of commonalities between gideon & alecto. anyway there’s not really anything in this line that we didn’t already know about gid as a character, thematically speaking, but i point it out because it inflicted +100 psychic damage when i read it. gideon as a ‘creature’ is particularly slimy, & sort of puts me in mind of ianthe's tendency to talk about what appears to us as 'butch masculinity' (as opposed to the more effete masculinity of augustine or even babs) with a notably derogatory slant (the 'hurtful threats of sexual violence' line comes to mind); i don't know that i have much to say about it here specifically but it's an interesting one that i think informs the kirianthe dynamic pretty heavily (especially when held up against, like, harrianthe ... ianthe has a kind of respect for whatever harrow's gay and stupid gender is Doing (at least insofar as she can mould it to her own desires; i'm thinking of the dios apate forcefemme scene lol) in ways that i don't think she has for kiriona? but this is v off-topic, lol).

i have never been especially taken by dulcie as a character but i think this may finally have forced me to fold and admit that she’s great. her haters!!! her agonies!!! camilla would have to cook!! the balance between levity and sincerity was really well-managed. & i love the double meaning of “unwanted guest” as both palamedes intruding on ianthe’s mind palace and naberius setting up shop inside of her.

i need a week to sit with where this idea of the consumed soul as being literally ‘digested’ such that it can begin to ‘inhabit,’ however immaterially, the host body, or like to alter the characteristics of the host body such that to carry out such a consumption is to kind of kill yourself as well, slots in with lolita theory. or like, i need alecto right now. i am however reminded of chew, a short story that muir wrote in 2013, which also plays with these ideas of sexual assault as a forcing of a part of yourself meaningfully ‘into’ another person, and cannibalism as the reenactment of such a process, figured in the story as kind of a reclamation or at least an assertion of permanence—“I was always going to be in the ground with him in me,” she said. “I just wanted to make sure, that’s all. I just wanted to make sure.”—which the unwanted guest seems to kind of, play with in reverse? i don’t know, but i’m interested—as ever—in where muir wants to take these ideas of rape and consumption and absorption that she’s got in her hands.

i keep returning to…i hesitate to say ‘parallels’ because i think that imposes a narrative onus that i’m not actually that convinced by, but these, like, commonalities between babs and gideon. gideon is played off against so many people (cristabel, loveday, alecto being the big ones) that it feels kind of inane to add another person to the pile, but like…they’re the two who get got in canaan house, they’re both ironically ‘false’ cavaliers and expressions of the ‘truest’ or most paradigmatic form that cavalierhood ‘can’/’should’ take, they both have unconventionally gendered names (‘babs’ is a shortened form of ‘barbara,’ it is a typically feminine name imo) and (by our standards) somewhat unconventional genders (gideon is butch, babs effete)—and of course the unwanted guest places a lot of emphasis on the coercive ‘making’ of cavalierhood (the reference to babs being ‘fixed’ were he to have a disability! ianthe’s glib ‘society really is to blame’ comment—ironic, obviously, but not wholly untrue) not dissimilar to the emphasis that gtn puts on cytherea moulding gideon into the state she comes to be in at the end. babs and gideon as the two possessed corpses in nona, obviously. two wildly diverse but ultimately converging trajectories! a dialectical tension between their fundamental ‘opposition’ (as by-the-book cavalier vs whatever gideon is doing) and their fundamental ‘sameness’ whereby the dialectic is resolved in their mutual deaths. also just, of course, continuing the throughline that muir has had going for a while now, of gender/gendering as a set of coercive enforcements loyal to a hegemonic structuring of the world.

that’s all i’ve got, i think. just. really good everyone say thank you tazmuir

[eitaababe]

SOMEBODY ELSE !

— chapter 12. breakup.

a/n — cats finally out the bag 🕺

series masterlist. | previous / next

throwback ! written portion below. —

you and neteyam weren't on the best of terms as of late, per say.

dates turned into fights, messages left unsent. it felt like your relationship was unraveling at the seams, but both of you refused to acknowledge how downhill it was all going.

nevertheless, you both still tried, setting up a date after only communicating via text the past couple weeks. you had made up your mind— you were going to confront him about the way things had been going lately, and were determined to fix it.

you started feeling less determined when you saw him happily talking to a girl seated across from him.

it's not that you were jealous, you knew neteyam wasn't the type to be unfaithful. but you couldn't deny the way your heart dropped at how he looked so animated, the complete opposite of what he was like with you the past few weeks.

and of course, you couldn't have one date where you didn't argue.

"i just don't get why you're not even that happy to talk to me! i'm your girlfriend!" you cried out into the empty alleyway, both of you deciding to take the yelling match outside of the shop.

"i don't get why you're so pissed! it's not that big of a deal, she was just a friend that i was catching up on."

"what were you even talking about?"

you missed the way his hand subtly traveled to his pocket, seemingly grasping something small inside of it. "nothing. we were talking about class and how football has been going for me lately."

you nodded solemnly, even more hurt how he looked just so much more alive talking about practically nothing with another person.

"maybe," neteyam hesitantly starting, closing his eyes tightly as if he didn't want to continue. "maybe we should just stop."

"you wanna break up?" your voice cracked, eyes blinking fast to push back tears.

"i just— you're so important to me, y/n," he breathed, grasping your hands tightly in his. "i want you in my life no matter what happens. i don't care how you're in it, honestly. i just know i want you there."

you sniffled, agreeing with him. "you're- you're right. we should stick to being friends. before we ruin anything else."

an uncomfortable silence surrounded you two as you stood there, unmoving, neither of you daring to speak.

you were the first to break the quiet with a clear of your throat. "i should uh- i should go," you offered a tight lipped smile his way, letting go of his hands and starting off. "i'll catch you later."

you missed the remorseful look on neteyam's face once you turned away.

FUN FACTS !

— neteyam in fact was not talking to that girl about nothing

— neteyam didn't actually wanna break up, y/n just seemed so unhappy with him late he didn't know what else to do

— people from the cafe could still hear their yelling outside LMAO

—

a/n — i'm doing a pt 2 of this chapter in neteyam's pov don't worry

taglist #1 / closed ! @n7ytiri @ilovejakesullysdick @possysblog @love-chx @stars4deku @evphology @afro-hispwriter @ydsm-29 @tsireyasgf @goldeneywa @doulcha @krazy-kattzz @fucksnow @squid4 @blairrrrrr @neteyamforlife @dreamtogether2000 @444lyra @ambria @cawi00 @calums-betch @powowowy @fadingpalacebonkpsychic @elegantkidfansoul @kolsmikaelson @mirikusashes @yukichan67 @goodiesinthecloset21 @netemoon @littlethingsinlife @coconut-dreamz @anm3mi @jjkclub @il0veheartz @liyahsocorro @nao-cchi @drugs-for-memes @zendayaswrld101 @grierpilots @misscaller06 @lightskinloak @mommyneytiri @inluvwithneteyam @halibanana @iheartamajiki @ipoopedmypants47 @neigesprincess @lookiiheh @ghostjoohoney @ronalsgirl

[stewiesclark]

Second Nature: Chapter Nine

Full Series

It was a Wednesday night, and Breanna was alone in her dorm. The silence stretched long, filling the space with a kind of oppressive quiet she couldn’t escape, not anymore. Her basketball gear lay abandoned in a corner of the room—a reminder of the late practice she’d forced herself through, trying to lose herself in drills and conditioning, the only thing she knew to numb the confusion swirling in her head. But tonight, it wasn’t working. Nothing worked anymore. No amount of hours in the gym could distract her from the weight that had been hanging over her since the kiss with Harriet.

The dim light from a single lamp on the far end of the room cast long shadows, the soft orange glow flickering faintly. Her room, usually a safe haven, felt stifling. The walls seemed to close in on her, as if echoing her own unsettled emotions. She slumped on the couch, staring at her phone resting on the coffee table, the screen dark but loaded with unsent messages, half-typed words she couldn’t bring herself to complete.

Breanna rubbed her hands together, her palms sweaty, heart racing with thoughts she’d been pushing away for weeks. She couldn’t stop thinking about Harriet, about the way her face had lit up when they’d kissed, the quiet vulnerability between them that had felt like something more, something important. That moment had stirred feelings inside Breanna she wasn’t prepared for—feelings that scared her. Since then, she had thrown herself into basketball, her safe place. But no amount of perfect jump shots or extra drills could shield her from the emotional mess she was in. Basketball had rules. Structure. A clear path. Relationships and feelings, those were far more unpredictable, more complicated. She couldn’t control this the way she controlled her game.

She reached for her phone. Her fingers scrolled through their old text messages, eyes lingering on their conversations from before—before things got complicated. The banter between them, Harriet teasing her about her terrible cooking skills, the silly memes they’d send back and forth during late-night study sessions. It felt like a lifetime ago now. Breanna’s chest tightened, the realization sinking in: she missed that easy connection. She missed Harriet.

But every time she’d had a chance to talk to Harriet in the past few weeks, she’d pulled back. Harriet had asked to hang out so many times, and Breanna had made excuse after excuse. Practice, team meetings, study sessions. Anything to avoid facing what was between them. She hated herself for it. Harriet didn’t deserve that.

Breanna leaned her head back against the couch, eyes closing as she took a deep breath. She couldn’t keep running. She was losing Harriet—she could feel it. That ache of distance had grown, gnawing at her every time she thought about her, and Breanna wasn’t sure how much longer Harriet would wait for her: The thought of being too late and losing Harriet all together made Breanna’s stomach twist, and her heart pounded even harder.

It wasn’t just the fear of commitment that kept Breanna away—it was the fear of being vulnerable. Being open with Harriet in a way she hadn’t been with anyone else. Breanna had always been the strong one, the leader on the court, the one people relied on. She wasn’t used to feeling this exposed, this uncertain. She didn’t know how to navigate this, and the thought terrified her. But the thought of losing Harriet terrified her more.

Her phone was still in her hand, the screen lighting up as she scrolled back to their last conversation. It was brief. Harriet had asked her to come over for dinner, and Breanna had said she couldn’t make it. Another excuse. Another missed moment. She swallowed the lump in her throat, her thumb hovering over Harriet’s name in her contacts. This was her chance—her last chance, maybe—to make things right.

Breanna’s fingers trembled slightly as she started typing, the words coming slower than they should. She typed and deleted several times, unsure of what to say: How do you apologize for weeks of silence? How do you explain that you’ve been afraid—afraid of your own feelings, afraid of screwing up, afraid of losing something that matters more than you ever realized?

Finally, she settled on something simple: Can we talk?

She stared at the message for what felt like forever, her heart hammering in her chest as she hovered over the send button. Her mind raced with doubts: What if Harriet ignored her? What if she didn’t care anymore? What if Breanna had already pushed her away too far?

But this time, she couldn’t run. She had to face the music. With a deep breath, she pressed send, the message slipping into the void between them. Breanna leaned back against the couch, the quiet of the room suddenly heavier, thicker with anticipation. The vulnerability of that small act made her feel exposed, raw in a way she wasn’t used to.

She closed her eyes, waiting.

The soft hum of the fluorescent lights in the lab buzzed faintly as Harriet leaned over her work, the glow of her laptop reflecting off the polished metal of the equipment scattered around her. She had spent hours here, deep in the trenches of her latest project on biomaterial for bone regeneration. Normally, it was the kind of thing she loved—losing herself in the intricate details, letting her mind sink into the calm, methodical work of science. But not today.

Every time she tried to focus, her thoughts circled back to Breanna. No matter how hard she tried to concentrate, memories of their kiss kept pulling her attention away from the spreadsheets and simulations. It was all so vivid—the softness of Breanna’s lips, the quiet intensity in her eyes afterward, as though they had both crossed a line they couldn’t uncross. Harriet had replayed that moment in her mind more times than she could count, hoping it had meant something deeper. But the aftermath? That was harder to understand.

Breanna had pulled away. Completely. Harriet had tried to convince herself that Breanna was just busy—after all, basketball season was in full swing. But Harriet knew better. She wasn’t naive. The avoidance was deliberate, and each time Breanna brushed her off, it felt like another brick added to the growing wall between them. The distance had become palpable, like something heavy and unspoken sitting between them whenever they were together. It hurt, more than she was willing to admit, and no amount of lab work could numb the ache.

The sudden buzz of her phone snapped Harriet out of her thoughts. She glanced down, her heart skipping when she saw Breanna’s name light up on the screen. For a split second, she hesitated, her fingers hovering over the notification. It had been days since they’d last spoken, and the silence had been agonizing. 

With a deep breath, Harriet swiped the screen open, her eyes scanning the message: Can we talk?

Just three words, but they carried a weight that made Harriet’s stomach flip. For weeks, she had been waiting for Breanna to say something—anything—that would acknowledge the growing tension between them. And now, here it was. A mix of emotions surged through her, relief tangled up with apprehension. This could go so many different ways. She could end it, say that she doesn’t feel the same, or worst of all — regret it.

Her fingers hovered over the keyboard, nerves buzzing through her as she typed her reply. Yeah. When and where?

The seconds stretched on after she sent the message, and Harriet could feel her heart racing with anticipation. This conversation, whatever it was, felt like a turning point. She could feel it in her bones—the sense that whatever Breanna had to say would change things between them, one way or another. The unknown terrified her, but at the same time, she knew they couldn’t keep pretending nothing had happened. She couldn’t keep pretending. She needed answers, needed to know what was going on in Breanna’s mind.

Her phone buzzed again, and Breanna’s reply appeared: Come over to my place?

Harriet sighed softly, her mind swimming with a hundred different scenarios. She gathered her things, shoving her notebook and laptop into her backpack as she mentally braced herself for what was about to come. This was it. No more dodging the issue, no more pretending. Harriet wasn’t sure if she was ready for what Breanna had to say, but one thing was certain: she needed to know.

She slipped on her jacket and stepped out of the lab into the crisp night air. The walk to Breanna’s dorm wasn’t long, but with each step, Harriet felt the weight of the situation pressing down on her. She couldn’t ignore the unease settling in her chest—the fear that this conversation might end in heartbreak. But she couldn’t keep avoiding it either. Whatever was going to happen, she needed to face it head-on. And if it meant losing Breanna in the process, she would deal with that too.

As she approached Breanna’s building, her hands were clammy, nerves firing on all cylinders. She stopped outside the front door, hesitating for just a moment before she pressed the buzzer. A few seconds later, Breanna’s voice came through the speaker, soft but tense.

“Hey. Come on up.”

The door clicked open, and Harriet pushed through, heading for the stairs. Her heart pounded with every step, the anxiety nearly overwhelming. She took a deep breath before reaching Breanna’s door, steeling herself. This was it.

When the door opened, Breanna stood there, looking both exhausted and anxious, her expression a mix of vulnerability and guilt. Harriet could feel the tension hanging in the air between them, thick and heavy. They exchanged a brief, uncertain smile before Harriet stepped inside, feeling the weight of everything unsaid pressing down on them.

Breanna closed the door softly behind her, and for a moment, neither of them spoke. Harriet could feel her pulse quicken, the silence stretching on as they stood there, face to face. Finally, Breanna broke the tension, her voice low and uncertain.

“Thanks for coming,” she said, her gaze dropping to the floor. “I... I’ve been avoiding this, and I know I owe you an explanation.”

Harriet’s breath hitched in her throat, her heart hammering in her chest. This was it—the moment that could change everything. She nodded, her voice quiet but steady. “Yeah, I think we need to talk.”

When Harriet got a look at Breanna, she looked depleted. Her usual self-assured energy had melted away, replaced by an unmistakable weariness in her eyes. She looked as though she had been carrying the weight of their unresolved tension for far too long.

Harriet could feel the charged atmosphere the moment she crossed the threshold. The apartment, once a place of comfort and familiarity, now felt different—heavier, thick with the words they had both been avoiding. The faint scent of coffee lingered in the air, and a blanket was crumpled at one end of the couch, as though Breanna had spent hours sitting there, waiting. It felt intimate and yet distant, the tension between them almost palpable.

Breanna had motioned for Harriet to sit. They moved to the couch, both of them settling into the cushions with a cautious air, the silence stretching taut between them. Harriet could hear the faint hum of traffic outside, but inside, it was eerily quiet. It wasn’t the comfortable silence they used to share. Now, it felt like the calm before a storm.

For a few minutes, neither of them spoke. Harriet could feel her pulse thudding in her throat as she waited, eyes flickering between Breanna and the floor. Her mind raced, wondering if Breanna was struggling to find the right words or if maybe she didn’t have any at all. In that moment, the silence almost felt like an answer itself.

Finally, Breanna exhaled a long, shaky breath, her eyes still focused on her hands as they fidgeted in her lap. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, her voice carrying the weight of weeks’ worth of unspoken emotions. “I’ve been avoiding you, and it’s not because I don’t care. It’s because... I care too much, and I didn’t know how to handle it.”

Harriet’s breath caught at the admission, her heart fluttering with a mix of relief and confusion. She watched Breanna’s fingers twist together nervously, her usually steady hands betraying the inner turmoil that had been brewing. Harriet had expected many things—anger, indifference, even regret—but this raw honesty was something she hadn’t prepared herself for.

Breanna’s voice was low and hesitant, as though each word cost her something to say. She didn’t look up, too consumed by her own vulnerability to meet Harriet’s gaze. “It scared me,” she continued, her tone tinged with guilt. “How much I feel when I’m around you. It’s... different. And I’ve never been good at dealing with stuff like this, with emotions I can’t control. Especially when I’m supposed to be focused on basketball, on keeping everything together.”

Harriet’s heart ached at Breanna’s confession. She had spent the past few weeks convinced that the kiss had pushed them apart, that maybe Breanna had regretted it, but hearing this—hearing how deeply Breanna cared—felt like a bittersweet revelation. Harriet shifted closer, her hands resting in her lap, fingers itching to reach out but unsure if now was the right moment.

“I get it,” Harriet said softly, her voice gentle but firm. “I didn’t know what was going on in your head, and I was starting to think that maybe you didn’t want this—that maybe it was just me.”

Breanna’s head snapped up at that, her eyes finally meeting Harriet’s, wide with shock and something close to panic. “No, Harriet, that’s not it at all.” Her voice cracked slightly, showing just how hard this conversation had been for her. “It was never just you. I was just... scared. Scared of messing things up, of letting myself get distracted, of what it would mean for both of us if we... if we went there.”

Harriet’s chest tightened as Breanna’s words sank in. She had always known that Breanna carried immense pressure—being UConn’s star player, the weight of expectations from coaches, teammates, and fans—but she hadn’t realized how much that pressure had been pushing Breanna to lock away her emotions, even at the expense of their connection.

“I missed you,” Harriet whispered, her voice soft but steady, the vulnerability evident. “These past few weeks, I kept wondering what I did wrong or if I should have never kissed you. But the truth is, I can’t pretend it didn’t mean something.”

Breanna closed her eyes for a moment, inhaling deeply as though trying to steady herself. “It did,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “It meant everything. That’s the problem.”

Harriet’s hand moved instinctively, finally closing the distance between them as she placed it on Breanna’s. The touch was light, but it carried the weight of weeks’ worth of uncertainty and longing. Breanna glanced down at their joined hands, her fingers twitching slightly before relaxing into the warmth of Harriet’s touch.

“You don’t have to choose,” Harriet said, her voice steady. “I don’t need you to give up basketball or stop being who you are. I just need you to be honest with me, with yourself.”

Breanna’s gaze softened, and for the first time in what felt like forever, the tension between them eased. The silence that followed wasn’t heavy with unspoken fears but instead filled with the quiet comfort of understanding. Harriet’s thumb gently traced circles on the back of Breanna’s hand, a small gesture of reassurance.

“I’m sorry I shut you out,” Breanna said, her voice thick with emotion. “I didn’t know how to balance it all, and I didn’t want to drag you into my mess.”

“We can figure it out,” Harriet replied softly. “Together.”

Breanna smiled faintly, the first real smile Harriet had seen from her in weeks, and nodded. The vulnerability in her expression was still there, but now, it was coupled with a sense of relief. They weren’t out of the woods yet, but this—this moment of honesty—felt like the first step.

Harriet squeezed Breanna’s hand gently, leaning back into the couch. The air between them felt lighter now, the weight of uncertainty lifting. They had a long way to go, but for the first time in weeks, Harriet felt hopeful.

The words wouldn’t come easily. Breanna sat on the couch, the cool leather beneath her legs doing nothing to ease the nervous energy pulsing through her. The weight of what she needed to say pressed down on her chest, like an invisible force she’d been battling for weeks. She had always been good at compartmentalizing—practices, games, schoolwork, and now this growing tension between her and Harriet. But now, with Harriet sitting beside her, the quiet of the room swallowing them both, there was no place to hide anymore.

The dim light in the apartment cast shadows across the walls, adding to the sense of isolation. Outside, the world moved on—people living their lives, unaware of the emotional storm brewing inside Breanna. She wished, briefly, that she could escape back into that world, back into the routine of practices and team meetings where everything made sense. Where she didn’t have to confront the feelings that had been gnawing at her since the night of the kiss. But she couldn’t escape now. She didn’t want to.

She sighed, her gaze fixed on the floor. “Basketball... it’s always been the one thing I know I can control,” she began, her voice barely above a whisper. It felt strange to say it out loud, to admit something she’d never fully acknowledged to anyone. Not even to herself. “When I’m on the court, everything has its place. The game has rules, and if I follow them, if I push myself hard enough, I can make sense of everything. I know who I am out there.”

She paused, her hands resting in her lap, fingers twisting nervously around each other. She could feel Harriet’s eyes on her, the quiet intensity of her presence a stark contrast to the chaos inside Breanna’s mind.

“But with you, with us, it’s different,” Breanna continued, her voice shaking slightly. “I don’t know how to control it and that scares me.”

She looked up then, her eyes meeting Harriet’s for the first time since they had sat down. The vulnerability in her gaze was something she rarely allowed anyone to see, but now, with Harriet, it was impossible to hide. She wasn’t the star player, the leader of the team, or the girl with everything figured out. She was uncertain, afraid, and standing on the edge of something she couldn’t define.

“I’ve seen it happen,” Breanna continued, her voice soft, almost fragile. “I’ve seen relationships ruin careers. Athletes get distracted, and suddenly they’re not the same on the court. They burn out. They lose everything. I didn’t want that to happen to me. To us. So I thought if I kept my distance, if I stayed focused on basketball, I could keep things from falling apart.”

Her words came faster now, tumbling out as if they’d been locked up for too long. And maybe they had been. She had kept Harriet at arm’s length, telling herself it was the right thing to do—that protecting her basketball career meant sacrificing the connection they had. But sitting here, looking into Harriet’s eyes, Breanna realized how wrong she’d been. The distance she had created hadn’t protected anything. It had only left her feeling more lost than ever.

“I’m sorry,” Breanna whispered, her voice breaking as the enormity of her confession settled over them. “I didn’t mean to push you away. I just... I was scared.”

For a long moment, there was only silence between them. Harriet didn’t respond right away, and the pause stretched out, thick and heavy with emotion. Breanna’s heart pounded in her chest, the vulnerability of the moment leaving her exposed in a way she hadn’t anticipated. She wasn’t used to this—laying herself bare, allowing someone else to see the cracks in her armor. But with Harriet, it felt like the only option.

Finally, Harriet shifted beside her, her expression softening as she reached out, her hand finding Breanna’s knee. The touch was gentle, reassuring. It grounded Breanna in a way she hadn’t expected. She felt the warmth of Harriet’s hand seep into her, calming some of the storm raging inside.

“Bre,” Harriet began, her voice filled with a tenderness that made Breanna’s chest tighten. “You don’t have to keep me at arm’s length. I’m not here to distract you. I’m here because I care about you. I want to be part of your life.”

The softness in Harriet’s eyes made Breanna’s throat constrict. She hadn’t realized just how much she had needed to hear that—how much she had needed to know that Harriet understood, that she wasn’t asking Breanna to choose between her and basketball. She had been so afraid of letting someone in, of losing control over the one thing that had always made sense in her life. But now, with Harriet looking at her like this, the fear started to melt away.

Harriet continued, her hand gently squeezing Breanna’s knee. “I don’t expect you to have it all figured out. We don’t have to rush anything. But I need you to know that I’m not going anywhere. And you don’t have to be perfect all the time. Not for me.”

Breanna’s breath hitched at the words. She could feel the tears welling up, and for a moment, she tried to blink them back. But it was no use. The vulnerability of the moment was overwhelming. She had been holding onto so much—her fears, her insecurities, the pressure of being a leader on the court and a role model off it. But now, here with Harriet, it all felt like too much.

“I don’t know how to do this,” Breanna admitted, her voice barely audible. “I don’t know how to balance everything.”

Harriet’s hand moved up to her arm, the warmth of the touch steadying Breanna as she spoke. “You don’t have to figure it out alone,” Harriet replied softly. “I’m here. We’ll figure it out together.”

Breanna looked up, meeting Harriet’s gaze fully now. The sincerity in her eyes—the quiet promise that she wouldn’t have to face this alone—was more comforting than any words could ever be. For the first time in weeks, Breanna felt a sense of calm. She didn’t have to have all the answers right now. She didn’t have to push Harriet away to protect her career. They could find a way to balance it all, together.

“Thank you,” Breanna whispered, her voice thick with emotion. She reached for Harriet’s hand, intertwining their fingers. The simple gesture was enough. It was a promise, unspoken but understood, that they were in this together.

They sat there in the quiet of the apartment, the weight of the conversation slowly lifting. The air between them felt lighter now, charged not with tension but with a newfound understanding. Breanna leaned back slightly, the tension in her shoulders easing as she allowed herself to relax for the first time in what felt like forever.

As they sat in the stillness, the world outside seemed to fade away. There was no need for words right now. They had both said what needed to be said. And that was enough.

Breanna squeezed Harriet’s hand, a small smile tugging at the corner of her lips. “I’m sorry it took me so long,” she murmured, her voice soft but steady.

Harriet smiled back, her eyes warm and understanding. “Better late than never,” she teased gently.

And for the first time in weeks, Breanna felt like she could breathe again. She didn’t have to carry the weight alone anymore. Harriet was here and that made all the difference.

Harriet could feel the intensity of the moment settle between them, a tension that had been building for weeks but was finally ready to break. As she sat there on the couch, next to Breanna, the quiet of the apartment seemed amplified by the emotions they were both holding back. Harriet wanted to close the gap, to reach through the uncertainty and pull Breanna into a space where things could finally be clear between them.

She leaned in a little closer, her gaze steady on Breanna’s face. The vulnerability she saw in Breanna—the athlete who could dominate a basketball court, the friend who could make her laugh with a simple look, the girl who was now struggling with so much internally—made Harriet’s heart ache.

"I know basketball is everything to you," Harriet began, her voice gentle but resolute. "And I don’t want to take that away from you. I’ve watched you work so hard, seen how much you love the game. I’ve always admired that about you—how driven you are, how much passion you put into everything you do."

She paused, her hand still resting on Breanna’s knee, grounding them both in the moment. "But Bre," Harriet continued, her voice a little softer now, "I’ve missed you. I’ve missed the person you are off the court. The person who used to laugh with me about the dumbest things, the person who would text me at midnight just to share some random thought. I miss us. The way we were before things got... complicated."

Harriet’s heart was racing as she spoke, but she forced herself to push through the nerves. "I don’t want to lose that," she admitted, her eyes searching Breanna’s for any sign that her words were getting through. "I don’t want to lose you."

For a moment, there was only silence. Breanna’s eyes were fixed on the floor, her fingers twisting anxiously in her lap. Harriet held her breath, waiting, hoping that Breanna would open up, that she would let her in.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Breanna looked up. Her gaze met Harriet’s, and in that moment, Harriet could see the walls Breanna had been holding up beginning to crumble. There was a rawness in her eyes, a vulnerability that Breanna had been trying so hard to hide but could no longer keep at bay.

"I’ve missed you too," Breanna said, her voice barely above a whisper. The words came out slowly, as though they were painful to admit. "I just didn’t know how to come back from the distance I created."

Harriet’s heart ached at Breanna’s confession, at the honesty in her voice that felt so fragile. She wanted to reach across the space between them, to pull Breanna into her arms and tell her that everything would be okay. But instead, she settled for the small, reassuring squeeze she gave Breanna’s knee, hoping that her touch could convey what words couldn’t.

"It’s okay," Harriet said softly, her voice full of understanding. "We can figure it out together. But I need you to let me in. I can’t be on the outside, wondering how you’re feeling or what’s going on in your head. I need you to trust me. Even if it’s messy, even if you’re scared... I need you to be honest with me."

The weight of her words hung between them, heavy with the truth they both had been avoiding for too long. Harriet’s hand moved from Breanna’s knee to her arm, the touch meant to be comforting, grounding. She wanted Breanna to know she was there, that she wasn’t going anywhere.

"I don’t need things to be perfect," Harriet continued, her voice steady now, "and I’m not asking you to have all the answers. I’m just asking for you to be real with me. Let me in. I want to be there for you, Bre, in whatever way you need. But I can’t do that if you keep pushing me away."

Breanna blinked, and for the first time, Harriet noticed the sheen of unshed tears in her eyes. It was as though the emotional weight of everything Breanna had been holding in was finally starting to crack through the surface. Harriet’s chest tightened at the sight, her heart breaking for the girl who had always seemed so strong but was now revealing just how scared she really was.

"I..." Breanna started, her voice catching in her throat. She looked down at her hands again, as though the words she was trying to find were hidden there. "I didn’t want to burden you with everything. I thought if I kept it to myself, I could protect you from all the... from me." Her voice was thick with emotion, and Harriet could see how hard it was for her to say these things. "But I see now that I was wrong. I should’ve trusted you more."

Harriet’s hand tightened gently on Breanna’s arm, offering silent support. "You’re never a burden, Bre," she said quietly. "Not to me."

Breanna exhaled a shaky breath, her shoulders sagging as if the weight of the world had been lifted just by hearing those words. Harriet could see the tension slowly leaving Breanna’s body, her defenses lowering, bit by bit. For the first time in weeks, Breanna wasn’t shutting her out. She was opening up, letting Harriet see the parts of herself that she had been hiding for so long.

"I’m sorry," Breanna whispered, the apology so sincere it made Harriet’s heart swell with emotion. "I didn’t mean to shut you out. I just... I didn’t know how to handle everything. Basketball, the expectations, us... it all got so overwhelming, and I didn’t know how to balance it."

Harriet’s eyes softened as she leaned in just a little closer, her voice gentle. "I know," she said. "But you don’t have to handle everything on your own. You don’t have to be perfect all the time. I’m here for you, Bre. We’ll figure it out together."

Breanna looked up at her, her eyes filled with a mixture of gratitude and relief. For the first time in what felt like forever, she didn’t feel like she had to hold it all together by herself. Harriet was here, and she wasn’t asking for perfection. She was just asking for honesty, for a chance to be let in.

"Thank you," Breanna said softly, her voice barely above a whisper, but heavy with the weight of everything she was feeling.

Harriet smiled, her eyes warm and full of affection. "You don’t have to thank me," she replied, her hand giving Breanna’s arm one final squeeze. "We’ve got this. Together."

The silence that followed wasn’t awkward or tense. It was a silence filled with understanding, with the shared knowledge that this was a new beginning for them. They didn’t need to have all the answers right now. What mattered was that they were in this together, no matter how messy or complicated it might get.

As they sat there on the couch, side by side, the air between them felt lighter, the tension from earlier in the evening fading away. Harriet leaned back slightly, her body still close to Breanna’s, the warmth of their connection a quiet reassurance. The future felt uncertain, but in this moment, they were together, and that was all that mattered.

Breanna nods slowly, her entire frame releasing a breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding for so long. There’s a shift, a weight she’s finally let go of, and it’s almost disorienting. For the first time in weeks, maybe months, she feels her shoulders loosen, the knot in her chest unraveling. She lifts her eyes to Harriet, who’s sitting beside her on the couch, and she feels a pang of guilt, knowing how long she’s kept her out. “I’m sorry for shutting you out,” she repeats, her voice quieter but more honest this time, a deeper sincerity shining through. “I thought I was protecting you, protecting us. I thought if I kept a distance, I could somehow shield you from all the pressure I’ve been feeling. But really, I was just protecting myself from getting hurt.” Her eyes drift downward, focusing on her hands that are still nervously fidgeting with the edge of her sweatshirt. “In trying to protect myself, I ended up hurting you. And that’s the last thing I ever wanted to do.”

Harriet watches her with that familiar softness, that quiet understanding that had always made Breanna feel seen. It’s one of the things that had drawn her to Harriet in the first place—the way she could just sit there, unassuming but present, not pushing, not demanding more, just waiting for Breanna to come to her in her own time. And now, Harriet sits back into the couch, her shoulders relaxed, that teasing glint back in her eyes. “Apology accepted,” she says, a smile tugging at her lips, the tension between them slowly giving way to something warmer. There’s a slight pause before she adds, her voice taking on a teasing tone, “But you still owe me a night of hanging out. You canceled on me, remember?”

Breanna’s mouth pulls into a lopsided grin, the sound of Harriet’s familiar teasing melting away the last of her lingering hesitation. She’s missed this—the easy banter, the playful back-and-forth that felt like home. The strain of their unspoken issues fades into the background as Harriet’s words bring them back to a place that feels like before, like the days when things were simpler. When there wasn’t the weight of unsaid things hanging between them, or the pressure of navigating feelings that had shifted into something more complicated.

"How about we start with a board game?" Breanna suggests, her grin widening as she gestures toward the stack of games sitting haphazardly on the coffee table, remnants of previous casual nights that had come before everything felt so complicated. “No pressure, no big talks—just us.”

Harriet’s face lights up, the spark in her eyes brightening as she leans forward to survey the stack of games with an excited grin. “Now you’re talking,” she says, enthusiasm lacing her words as she reaches for the nearest box. “But just so you know—I’m really competitive. Like, don’t go easy on me just because you feel guilty,” she adds with a wink.

Breanna laughs, a sound that feels rusty at first, like she hasn’t allowed herself to really laugh in weeks. But it quickly turns genuine, bubbling up from a place that has been quiet for too long. “Oh, I wasn’t planning on it. Just because I can dominate on the court doesn’t mean I’ll let you take it easy here,” she shoots back, her voice playful but carrying the light-hearted challenge of someone who’s finally easing back into comfort.

Harriet raises an eyebrow, leaning forward with mock seriousness. “We’ll see about that,” her voice full of lighthearted competitiveness that brings them back to familiar territory. The tension that had clouded their interactions these last few weeks seems to evaporate, replaced by a comfortable warmth that both of them missed more than they realized.

They settle on the floor, the board game spread out between them. It doesn’t matter what the game is—it’s not really about winning or losing. It’s about finding their way back to each other, inch by inch, through the small moments. The sound of dice rolling across the table, the clatter of game pieces being moved around the board, fills the room, punctuated by Harriet’s teasing remarks and Breanna’s competitive banter.

As they play, the game becomes a backdrop for the unspoken reconnection happening between them. Harriet keeps glancing up at Breanna between turns, watching the way her face relaxes, how her laugh comes easier now, her shoulders no longer tense with the weight of everything unspoken. She sees Breanna in a way she hadn’t seen her in weeks—unguarded, relaxed, open. It’s a sight that makes Harriet’s heart swell because this is the Breanna she’s missed, the one who isn’t hiding behind the walls she’s built to keep herself safe from the outside world.

“Careful, I’m about to make my move,” Harriet says with a sly grin, leaning forward dramatically as she rolls the dice, stealing a glance at Breanna as her game piece edges closer to winning.

Breanna scoffs, feigning shock. “Oh, come on. I didn’t realize I was playing against a mastermind.”

“Well, I didn’t want to intimidate you with my superior board game skills right away,” Harriet teases, her eyes twinkling with amusement. “I had to ease you into it.”

Breanna laughs, shaking her head as she rolls the dice, her competitive spirit kicking in. The laughter between them is easy now, free of the heaviness that had hung between them when Harriet first walked through the door. The night stretches on, filled with teasing remarks and lighthearted competition, but more than that, it’s filled with a quiet, unspoken understanding that neither of them needs to rush into defining what’s next.

It’s not about the game, or the teasing, or even the time they’re spending together. It’s about rebuilding the connection that had been strained, about finding comfort in each other’s presence again. Each roll of the dice, every playful jab, feels like a small step toward something deeper, something more honest than the confusion that had muddled their relationship for weeks.

As they near the end of the game, Harriet looks up at Breanna with a grin. “You know, just because you’re Breanna Stewart doesn’t mean you can beat me at everything,” she quips, her tone teasing but affectionate.

Breanna smirks, her competitive streak shining through. “We’ll see about that,” she replies, though there’s no real bite behind her words. It’s all in good fun now, the ease of their dynamic returning with every playful exchange.

But beneath the teasing, beneath the game, there’s a shared understanding that runs deeper than words. They’ve crossed a threshold tonight, not just in apologizing, not just in laughing together again, but in finding the courage to let their walls down, piece by piece. As the game comes to a close and they clear the pieces away, their hands brush lightly against each other, and for a brief second, there’s a spark—a reminder of the kiss, of the moment that had shifted everything.

But tonight, it’s enough to just be together, to sit on the couch afterward in a comfortable silence, the weight of everything else temporarily forgotten. Harriet leans into Breanna, her body relaxed against hers, and they sit like that for a while, not saying anything, just enjoying the simplicity of the moment.

The air between them hums with possibility, but there’s no need to rush. They’ll figure it out—together. For now, the game, the laughter, the closeness—it’s more than enough.

As the night stretches on, the remnants of their board game linger in the air, but the pieces have been put away, and the laughter they shared hangs like a warm embrace. Breanna and Harriet sit close together on the couch, their shoulders brushing against each other, the familiarity of their connection rekindling with every passing moment. It feels as though they’ve entered a new chapter in their relationship—one built not just on the carefree laughter of old, but also on the honesty of their vulnerabilities.

The dim light from the lamp casts soft shadows around the room, creating an intimate atmosphere that invites deeper conversations. Breanna glances around her apartment, taking in the various mementos of their friendship scattered throughout—photos of them at games, silly selfies, and even the ticket stubs from concerts they attended together. Each piece is a reminder of the bond they share, and as they sit close, the air is thick with a palpable sense of renewal.

Finally, Harriet breaks the silence, her voice playful and light, laced with that teasing edge Breanna has always found endearing. “So, does this mean no more canceling on me for practice?” she asks, a cheeky smile dancing on her lips, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

Breanna lets out a laugh, a sound that feels bright and free, echoing the relief and joy flooding through her. “No more canceling,” she promises, her tone filled with sincerity. “But you’re still going to have to come rebound for me sometimes.” She leans back, her body relaxing into the familiar couch, grateful for the return of their easy camaraderie.

“Deal,” Harriet replies with a smirk, nudging Breanna lightly with her shoulder. “I’ll take my chances. I mean, how hard can it be to stand there and catch a ball?” she adds, feigning confidence as she crosses her arms, her gaze fixed on Breanna with a playful challenge.

“Oh, you think it’s that easy?” Breanna challenges, raising an eyebrow, the playful spark igniting between them once more. “Just wait until I start shooting three-pointers. You’ll be running around like crazy.”

“Please, I’m ready,” Harriet counters, feigning bravado. “But just know that if you miss, I might have to mock you a little.”

Breanna laughs again, a sound that rings like music in the quiet of the apartment, the tension between them melting into something warmer, something that feels more like home. “I can take it,” she replies, their playful banter weaving a comforting fabric of connection between them.

As the warmth of their shared laughter envelops them, Breanna glances over at Harriet, her heart swelling with affection. The doubts that had clouded her mind begin to clear, replaced by a deep-seated reassurance that they’re navigating this together. “You know,” she begins, her voice softer now, “I really appreciate you being here tonight. I know I haven’t made it easy.”

Harriet shifts slightly, turning to face Breanna more fully. “You’ve had a lot on your mind,” she replies, her tone steady and filled with compassion. “But I’m here for you. I always will be.”

Breanna’s heart swells at the sincerity of Harriet’s words, and for a moment, the room feels charged with a warmth that transcends their playful banter.

“Honestly,” Breanna admits, her voice dropping to a whisper, “I was terrified of losing you. I thought that if I could just focus on basketball and keep my distance, I could avoid messing everything up. But instead, I ended up shutting you out when all I wanted was to bring you closer.”

“Bre, it’s okay to be scared,” Harriet reassures her, her hand resting gently on Breanna’s knee. “You’re human. I don’t expect you to have it all figured out.” There’s a comforting steadiness in her voice, a reminder that she’s not going anywhere, that they can take this journey together.

“I just don’t want to become one of those athletes who lets everything fall apart because of a relationship,” Breanna confesses, her vulnerability laid bare. “I’ve seen it happen to so many people. I didn’t want to be another statistic.”

“I get that,” Harriet nods, her expression thoughtful. “But we’re not just ‘some relationship.’ We have something special, Bre. And if anything, I think it makes you stronger. It’s not a distraction; it’s part of your life. You can have both—basketball and me.”

Breanna’s breath catches at Harriet’s words, the weight of her fears beginning to lift. “You really believe that?” she asks, her voice tinged with a mix of hope and uncertainty.

“Absolutely,” Harriet replies without hesitation. “You’re an incredible player, and I believe in you—on and off the court. And as for me? I’m here to support you, whatever that looks like.”

A moment of silence hangs between them, a space filled with unspoken understanding and new possibilities. Breanna leans back, absorbing Harriet’s words, her heart racing with gratitude and admiration. “You always know what to say,” she murmurs, a smile creeping onto her face.

“It’s easy when you mean so much to me,” Harriet responds, her gaze steady, filled with warmth and affection. The atmosphere is electric, charged with emotions that have been waiting for this moment to be acknowledged.

As the night wore on, they began looking back at photos of a few months back to more recent of them. “I still can’t believe you wore that ridiculous chicken costume for Halloween,” Breanna laughs, recalling the memory of Harriet’s over-the-top outfit. “I thought I was going to die from embarrassment!”

“Hey, that costume was iconic!” Harriet defends, her laughter mingling with Breanna’s. “Besides, you loved it. You were the only one who didn’t run away screaming!”

Breanna shakes her head, chuckling. “I only loved it because I could take embarrassing pictures of you!”

They find themselves sharing more than just laughter. They delve into deeper conversations, discussing dreams, aspirations, and fears—both on and off the court. Harriet opens up about her struggles with self-doubt in her engineering projects, while Breanna admits her worries about balancing academics, basketball, and personal relationships.

“I sometimes feel like I’m juggling so much,” Breanna confesses, her tone turning serious. “Like if I drop one thing, everything will come crashing down.”

Harriet nods, her expression empathetic. “I think we all feel that way sometimes. But it’s okay to ask for help. You don’t have to do it all alone.”

Breanna appreciates the reminder, feeling grateful for Harriet’s unwavering support. “Thank you for being patient with me,” she says, sincerity lacing her words. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Their eyes meet, and for a moment, the world outside fades away. It’s just the two of them, intertwined in this newfound sense of intimacy, vulnerability, and trust.

As they transition from laughter to a quieter moment, Breanna feels a wave of gratitude wash over her. “Can I ask you something?” she says, her tone shifting to a more serious note.

“Of course,” Harriet replies, her expression open and inviting.

Breanna hesitates for a moment, gathering her thoughts. “What do you think our relationship looks like moving forward? I mean, with everything we’ve talked about tonight?”

Harriet takes a deep breath, considering the question. “I think it’s about finding balance. We both have our passions—basketball, school, our personal lives—and I want us to support each other in those. But I also want to make time for us, for whatever this is that we’re building.”

Breanna nods, her heart fluttering at the thought. “I like that. I don’t want to lose what we have, but I also want to make sure we’re both prioritizing our goals.”

“Exactly,” Harriet agrees, her voice steady. “And it’s okay if things get messy. We can work through it together. Communication is key.”

“I can do that,” Breanna replies, a small smile spreading across her face. “I think we’re already off to a good start.”

Harriet grins, her eyes shining with excitement. “I think so too. Just promise me you won’t cancel our ice cream date when we go out, okay?”

Breanna laughs, the tension in her shoulders fully dissipating now. “I promise! No canceling. Only ice cream and good times from now on.”

With that, they rise from the couch, excitement bubbling between them as they prepare to head out for ice cream. The world outside feels brighter, more vibrant—a reflection of the newfound clarity in their relationship. They step into the cool night air, laughter trailing behind them like a warm blanket as they embark on this new chapter, ready to embrace the future with open hearts and open minds.

As they walk side by side, Breanna glances at Harriet, feeling a surge of affection wash over her. “You know, I never thought I’d be able to talk about all of this,” she admits, her voice quiet yet earnest. “But being here with you makes everything feel so much easier.”

“Anytime you need to talk, I’m here,” Harriet reassures her, her expression warm and genuine. “We’re in this together, remember?”

Breanna nods, her heart swelling at the sentiment. “Yeah, I remember.”

They continue down the street, the stars twinkling overhead as they make their way to the ice cream shop. The air is filled with the sweet scent of summer, a reminder that they’re in a moment that feels special, transformative.

As they approach the shop, Breanna feels a sense of excitement bubble up within her. “What flavor are you thinking?” she asks, her eyes scanning the colorful options displayed in the window.

“Mint chocolate chip, obviously,” Harriet replies with a mock serious expression. “It’s the only flavor that truly matters.”

Breanna laughs, shaking her head. “You’re so predictable. But I guess I can’t blame you. It is delicious.”

As they step inside the shop, the cool air wraps around them, and the sound of laughter and chatter fills the space. They step up to the counter, both scanning the flavors, and Breanna takes a moment to appreciate the little things—the way Harriet’s eyes light up when she sees her favorite flavor, the way they can joke and tease one another even in this casual setting.

“Okay, but what’s the deal with your love for mint chocolate chip?” Breanna asks, feigning seriousness as she leans against the counter, crossing her arms.

Harriet rolls her eyes, clearly amused. “It’s refreshing! Plus, it’s like a party in my mouth. How can you argue with that?”

Breanna grins, shaking her head playfully. “Alright, alright. You win this round. One scoop of mint chocolate chip for you!”

After ordering their ice cream—Breanna settling on cookies and cream—they head outside, their cones in hand, laughter spilling between them like ice cream dripping down the sides. They find a nearby bench to sit and enjoy their treats, the cool night air creating a perfect backdrop for their evening.

As they dig into their ice cream, Breanna can’t help but steal glances at Harriet, who seems to glow under the streetlights. The world feels full of potential, and for the first time in a long while, Breanna is filled with hope. She savors the moment—the laughter, the sweetness of the ice cream, and the comforting presence of Harriet beside her.

“Thank you for tonight,” Breanna says, her voice soft but filled with sincerity. “I really needed this.”

Harriet looks over, her eyes meeting Breanna’s with a warmth that makes her heart flutter. “Anytime. We can make this a regular thing, you know? Just us hanging out, eating ice cream, and talking about life.”

“I’d love that,” Breanna replies, a smile breaking across her face. “And who knows? Maybe one day, we’ll be laughing about this over a victory celebration after winning a championship together.”

Harriet laughs, her eyes sparkling. “Oh, definitely! But I’ll make sure to keep the mint chocolate chip ice cream on hand for our victory party.”

As they continue to share stories and laughter, the weight of the past few weeks begins to lift entirely. They’re not just friends navigating challenges; they’re partners—ready to face whatever comes next with a renewed sense of understanding and compassion.

The night stretches on, filled with sweet moments and promises of new beginnings. Breanna feels a warmth spreading through her chest, a sense of belonging that she had feared was slipping away. She knows that while they don’t have everything figured out yet, they’re taking it one step at a time—together.

As they finish their ice cream, Harriet turns to Breanna, her eyes filled with determination. “We’ve got this, right? Together?”

Breanna nods, her heart swelling with gratitude. “Absolutely. Together.”

And with that simple affirmation, they step into the future hand in hand, ready to embrace all the adventures that await them. The world is theirs for the taking, and with each passing day, they’ll build upon this reignited connection—one filled with laughter, love, and the courage to face whatever challenges lie ahead.

[ire4d]

             moon  gayoung.   she  +  they.   cis   woman.   twenty8.      »       was  that  JUNO  JINJOO  LEE  i  just  saw  wandering  around  lake  sillwater?  you  know,  the  BOOKWORM?  odd…  i  never  imagined  they'd  be  back  in  town,  especially  after  everything  that  happened  last  time.  but  i  guess  it  makes  snese,  considering  they've  always  been  known  for  being  PERCEPTIVE  and  ANALYTICAL.  still,  you'd  like  they'd  be  more  cautious—especially  since  they're  also  quite  MORBID  and  WITHDRAWN,  but  then  again  that  explains  why  she's  obsessed  with  figuring  out  what  happens  when  one  goes  to  “the  other  side”.  last  i  heard  they  were  working  as  an  AUTHOR  in  BADERBORN,  GERMANY…  i  wonder  if  that's  where  they  picked  up  that  READING  JOURNAL  they're  always  carrying  around.  nonetheless,  with  whatever  happened  on  that  lake  all  those  years  ago,  they'd  better  hope  the  cabin  keeps  them  safe  this  time  around.

𝐢.  𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐬.

pinterest.  playlist.  tasks.  headcanons.  introspection.  visuals.  edits.  wanted.  memes.  honesty  hours.  socials. all  threads.  all  texts.  events.

𝐢𝐢. 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐥𝐬.

brooklyn,  blackwood  institute  trilogy  ( books ),  misaki,  maid  sama  ( anime/manga ),  scarlett,  the  blood  we  crave  duet  ( books ),  lana,  mindf*ck  series  (  books  ).  simone  st.  james  (  author  ).  +  more  i'll  add  once  i  remember.

𝐢𝐢𝐢.  𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐥.

korean  name:  lee  jinjoo. english  name:  juno  lee. nickname(s):  juno. faceclaim:  moon  gayoung.  birthday:  30  OCT  1996  @  11:47PM. age:  twenty8.  place  of  birth:  chicago,  illinois.  zodiac:  ☼  scorpio  |  ☾  cancer  |  ↑  leo.  mbti:  infp-t,  the  mediator.  moral  alignment:  true  neutral.  enneagram:  type  4,  the  individualist. occupation:  author  of  paranormal  thrillers  /  mysteries.  three  positive  traits:  perceptive,  analytical,  wise.  three  negative  traits:  morbid,  withdrawn,  hyper-independent.  aesthetics:  ghost  stories  told  around  the  campfire,  the  quiet  loneliness  of  3AM,  the  shift  in  temperature  as  a  storm  approaches,  an  ever  growing  to  be  read  pile,  broken  promises  &  unsent  letters,  the  scent  of  fresh  bouquets,  old  books,  &  hazelnut,  the  haunting  swell  of  a  horror  score. languages:  korean,  english,  german,  and  american  sign  language.  love  language:  gift  giving  is  how  she  likes  showing  love,  physical  touch  is  how  she  likes  receiving  love.  sexuality:  pansexual  /  panromantic.  education:   bachelors  of  arts  in  creative  writing  with  a  concentration  in  fiction  (  in  person  )  +  bachelors  of  arts  in  psychology  (  distance  learning  ).  piercings:  six  on  left  ear,  thirteen  on  right  ear.  septum.  venom.  belly  button.  (  visuals  in  pinterest  ). tattoos:   femininity  gender  symbol  inside  left  elbow,  star  design  on  right  ring  finger,  skeleton  reading  on  a  crescent  moon  on  left  thigh,  floral  skeleton  design  with  quote  on  inner  right  forearm,  phenoix  design  on  right  back/side,  melancholic  memories  design  on  left  hand/wrist  (  visuals  in  pinterest  ).

𝐢𝐯.  𝐞𝐱𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐬.

to  give  a  brief  background  on  her  childhood:  her  house  was  never  much  of  a  home.  her  parents  didn't  pay  her  much  attention,  the  pair  too  focused  on  fighting  with  each  other  or  avoiding  one  another,  leaving  jenni  to  fend  for  herself.  while  the  freedom  to  do  as  she  wished  was  nice,  she'd  be  lying  if  she  said  it  wasn't  a  struggle.  she  quickly  found  solace,  though,  in  the  form  of  both  books  and  her  neighbour,  jaime.  even  as  the  fighting  grew  worse  and  she  escaped  further  into  written  worlds,  she  was  never  allowed  to  stray  too  far.  in  order  to  keep  up  with  the  only  friend  she  had,  jenni  did  what  she  needed  to  education-wise  to  shrink  the  gap  between  them,  soon  following  jaime  to  cypress  two  years  after  he  graduated.  

is  a  practicing  witch  and  a  hades  devotee.

has  never  had  a  single  drop  of  alcohol  and  refuses  to  ever  try  it,  along  with  most  medication.  she  doesn't  even  like  taking  simple  over  the  counter  pain  meds  for  headaches.  if  you  ask  her  why,  she'll  only  say  that  it  tastes  yucky,  but  the  reality  is  because  of  her  home  life.

definitely  one  of  those  people  that  are  really,  really  smart,  but  so  very  dumb.  just  in  all  the  ways.

when  it  comes  to  what  she  reads,  horror  and  poetry  are  her  bread  and  butter,  though  she'll  read  literally  anything.  including  academic  journals,  especially  if  they're  in  the  vein  of  psychology.  

to  give  you  some  ideas  about  the  books  she  writes,  however,  they're  a  lot  like  simone  st.  james'  books  aka  paranormal  thrillers  +  mysteries.  sometimes  there's  a  hint  of  romance,  but  only  if  she's  feeling  it.

collects  hyperfixations  and  tends  to  them  like  lil  pets. 

things  she  collects  besides  books:  creepy  knick-knacks  (  even  better  if  it's  supposedly  haunted  )  and  keychains.

her  signature  scent  is  a  lot  like  sandalsun  by  hermetica  paris  ( think  a  warm  woodsy  scent  with  hints  of  hazelnut  and  vanilla ),  and  she  follows  a  lot  of  the  same  notes  with  her  body  care  products,  too.

has  a  very  strong  moral  compass  for  herself,  though  it  may  not  always  align  with  what  is  considered  socially  “normal”.  she  doesn't  try  to  push  her  ideals  or  make  someone  feel  like  they're  wrong  for  any  belief  or  opinion  they  may  have  on  something,  though  she  won't  hesitate  to  share  her  own  stance.

is  actually  very  lonely,  but  doesn't  mind  being  alone.

lol  vulnerability  is  hard.  pls  don't  ask  her  to  do  it.  i  mean,  she's  great  at  making  you  feel  like  you're  close  if  she  feels  it's  necessary,  but  know  that  unless  you're  extra,  extra  special,  you're  really  just  out  of  arms  reach  emotionally  to  her. 

she's  a  phenomenal  cook,  thanks  to  all  the  years  she  had  to  take  care  of  herself,  and  big  foodie.  this  is  her  favourite  way  to  show  her  affection.

is  likely  the  most  violent  person  you'll  ever  meet  if  you  mess  with  someone  that  means  something  to  her.

[forgedcold]

💬

Send me 💬 or "unsent texts" I'll share three texts my muse typed but never sent yours.

For the longest time, Megatron stares at the datapad expressionless, thumbs hovering over the keypad with agonizing uncertainty. There is nothing he can say that Tarn would want to hear — why bother?

TXT » Is my silence appreciated or hated? I think if I say nothing, I might come to feel you as nothing. I don't know if that is right. I can't distinguish if I avoid you because of hatred of what I've done to you or because part of me thinks you are right.

Ugh. Megatron deletes the message and pinches the bridge of his nose, a sense of dooming finality breathing down his neck.

TXT » Is there a script that can even be conceived where everyone comes out of this alive?

Once more, Megatron deletes the message, berating himself as foolish. He tries one last time.

TXT » Damus? I failed you.

The screen of the datapad cracks beneath the pressure of his thumb and Megatron throws it aside, not bothering with exercises in futility.

[unburiedhatchet]

I had too much fun with this imagining all the possibilities 😂

@ronplacerontime sent unsent texts meme

[ghostofafruit]

you know your idea is stupidly funny when you feel the need to preface with you're not drunk. That being said, I am not drunk. I've just been watching a lot of mattshorehere and had the best crack fic idea. Let's call this a moonchaser week fic for Alt 1: Muggle AU, and it's a tumblr exclusive. It's also crack, it's pure crack, I'm not convinced I haven't somehow gotten drunk on water it's that ridiculous. If you haven't seen the video I'm referencing and that inspired this, here it is

mentions of nudes, again major crackfic, @ghostsfanficevents

Remus had a habit of making terrible jokes. Jokes so awful they circled back to funny and then back to bad. Subpar at best James would say. They still always pull a chuckle from him, and he refuses to leave Remus on seen when they're texting and he sends a dumb joke.

Autocorrect was a massive bitch.

James had only meant to send haha. That was it. It was a barely passable joke, a true Remus Lupin special. It wasn't really worthy of anything more than that. A HAHA would be too much, a hahaha even worse. He stared at his phone-screen in horror. HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA. Eight, all caps, ha's.

He could picture Remus grinning at his screen, thinking his jokes had finally been good. It was a lameass joke, and now he was probably going to reuse it. He rushed to correct it. He could have sworn he'd typed out 'sorry didn't mean that' instead what sent was 'dude please hold me'. James continued looking at his phone in horror.

Remus had read it almost instantly, like he was staring at the messages waiting for James to say something. He hurried to correct it, some form of apology or excuse, but instead a row of roses sent. James decided to switch off his phone before things got worse.

Autocorrect was very much still a massive bitch. Several weeks had past since the incident as James had taken to calling it and they hadn't talked about it. It was for the best, James wasn't sure how he could explain his way out of that one.

A message from Remus popped up and James grinned to himself. The joke itself was utterly idiotic, it was more Remus himself that prompted the reaction in James. He rolled his eyes at the attempted joke and typed out a haha.

Except it did the thing again. Where James had written haha, and pressed send on haha, it send instead HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA. Once again eight all caps ha's. He rushed to fix the mistaked.

'I did not meant that' he sent. Instead 'Bro, please hug me' appeared in their chat. James tried to correct again, but a row of bouquet emojis replaced it.

"Fuck," James mumbled to himself. He opened his images, he had a lot of stupid things saved maybe something would work. He spotted the perfect one and selected it. He double checked that he'd only selected that and pressed send.

James watched the image load in their chat. Once it finished loading James cursed again. That was not the stupid meme befitting the situation. That was a hehhum, tastefully nude, photo of himself. A silk blanket draped across his lap, leaving very little to the imagination, but just enough to intrigue. He'd only taken it to boost his self confidence.

He went to delete it but Remus had already seen it. He'd seen it the second it had sent, he'd been lurking in their chat again.

"Fuck me," James said aloud. Instead of leaving autocorrect to it, he tried to call Remus. He did not answer. He switched to instagram instead and shot of a dm apologising for the weird situation. James didn't wait for a reply instead he tossed his phone to the side and got up to head to his art studio, he needed a distraction.

Autocorrect was a certified complete and utter bitchfuck. James wasn't even sure what that meant, but he liked it. It felt fitting. It had been another few weeks and Remus had accepted James' story and they'd laughed about it. Past that they hadn't talked about it, and James had never actually unsent the photo, Remus hadn't seemed too bothered anyway.

The familiar ping of a message rang out from his, and James grinned. He'd set a specific tone for Remus. He wiped his hand off on the rag next to him and grabbed his phone. It was yet another stupid joke. He snorted slightly and shook his head. Only Remus would find that funny, but it was it's own sort of charm James supposed.

'haha' he typed out. He noticed immediately that it had changed as soon as he'd hit send. Something was seriously up with his phone, his bet was Peter or Marlene both of them were creepily tech savey. If anyone could make him flirt with Remus through autocorrect it was them. In place of his two all lowercase ha's were once more eight all caps ha's. He sighed and typed out an excuse he knew wouldn't send.

'Mate please hold me' appeared in the chat. James sighed again. Maybe a meme would work this time. James scrolled past the photos he'd taken recently, careful not to click them, and found the same one he'd tried to send before. He clicked it, double checked it was the only thing selected, and then triple checked. For safe measure he took a screenshot of it selected and then sent it over.

James held his breath as it loaded. He waited for it to show the meme, but instead one of the new photos he'd taken appeared.

"FUCK!" James shouted. This one was even worse than the nude he'd sent before. The previous one had been artistic, taken on his camera, edited to look perfect. This one had been a similarly artistic photo, sure. He could just about claim that. The same silk blanket was draped in his, but instead on taken on the floor with a brilliant pose picked to show off his abs, it had been a mirror selfie. Even less was left to the imagination, the silk was more scrunched up and slightly higher too. It was damn good one of his hands was in his lap or he was something something would actually be exposed. The other hand had been held loosely around his phone, angling it perfectly so his slight smirk could be seen in the mirror.

James stared in horror as Remus saw it instantly. He watched as Remus went to type, then stopped, then started again.

"Shit," James said. He typed as much. He hit send without considering the current problem he was having with texting Remus.

'Mate I'm lonely' it read. James cursed again. He considered trying to fix it, but he wasn't sure how. Instead he threw his phone across the room and screamed into his desk.

Autocorrect was a brillaint wingman James reflected. He wrote as much in the vows he was drafting out. Without the weird situation his phone had started he wasn't sure he'd have ever gotten the courage to even face his feelings for Remus yet along act on them. Remus rather felt the same.

He wasn't sure exactly why his phone had started doing that and specifically with Remus, Marlene and Peter were pretty convinced it was entirely impossible until they'd both witnessed it actually happen in real time. Still, he thanked it for happening, even if it was embarrassing.

Who knew a bit of unfunctionally autocorrect would lead to James marrying his best mate?

[heroicintention]

@eraserisms sent a meme

Send a 📱for 5 unsent text messages, and 1 sent message from my muse!

from the phone history of shirakumo oboro.

📱[txt blackcat] :: i was thinking maybe we shoooould go out sometime

📱[txt blackcat] :: hey what if you and me head out sometime? just us for a while, it'd be cool right? :D

📱[txt blackcat] :: so hizashi and i were talking and we should totally go out sometime.

📱[txt blackcat] :: i really like you. do you think maybe we could grab dinner sometime?

📱[txt blackcat] :: raining AGAIN can't believe this!! text zashi, let's go do something.

[ronmanmob]

unsent texts

Unsent Texts Meme

[Tabs]: C U @ 8 like always luv [Tabs]: I'll bring u ur fave [Tabs]: Drink it 4 u if ur late ;)

[someflareoutwithlove]

💬 Gray/Jimmy

[UNSENT TEXTS]

[To G-Man] <some stupid and/or probably a little offensive meme>

[To G-Man] hear me out. i want to steal the D from the vinewood sign.

[To G-Man] ithink mydad prefers franlkin to me [Type and deleted while drunk]

[juliettevanderbilt]

The cellphone meme for - veronica & Juliette

What was my muses 5 last sent texts yours?

[Juliette to Veronica] Have you told Sam yet?

[Juliette to Veronica] I just don't know how to not mention it if he asks.

[Juliette to Veronica] Are you town now? You kind of disappeared.

[Juliette to Veronica] Summer from three years ago came up in my memories yesterday.

[Juliette to Veronica] I hope you are okay

What was my muses 5 last unsent texts yours.?

[Juliette to Veronica] If you wanted Sam you could have told me, we could have talked about it. You didn't have to...

[Juliette to Veronica] I just wish you hadn't ruined everyone

[Juliette to Veronica] I hate...

[Juliette to Veronica] Can we talk?

[Juliette to Veronica] I think you should tell Sam

What was my muses last snapchat/photo to yours?

What my muse saved your number as?

Roni

What contact photo my muse has set for yours?

What ringtone my muse has set for yours?

thanK you aIMee

How many times my muse has called your this week?

0

How many calls has my muse missed from yours?

5

@veronicaravenwood