#my resolution this year is just to learn how to sit back and say

[strohller27]

.

[fleuryuns]

presenting a fic by @FLEURYUNS

you're still a virgin?

IN WHICH heeseung realizes you're still a virgin after swearing you'd get with someone from the start of the year, so he offers to help solve this problem

PAIRING ⟡ bsf!heeseung x virgin!femreader

UNIVERSE ⨯ non-idol au

WARNINGS ⟡ mdni, smut, porn with a smidge of plot for context, not proofread cuz who needs that, fingering, orgasm denial (briefly), missionary, very vanilla sex, heeseung's kinda awkward #pathetic_men

WORD COUNT ⨯ 3.1k

AUTHOR'S NOTE . . . first smut fic on this acc... minors avert your eyes

“We never finished sharing our new year’s resolutions.”

You stop mid-bite into your pancakes. You and Heeseung had spent all morning making them, finally testing out the new oven you got after the last one broke down during another pancake morning. It survived, luckily. There’s only the taste-test left, but Heeseung’s comment catches you so off guard, you put the fork back down.

“New year’s resolutions?” you repeat. “You mean the ones from basically last year?”

He nods, shoving his first bite in. He hums at the taste. Success. “Yeah, we made those lists and started sharing but then—” Heeseung tilts and quirks his brow in thought. “—I can’t even remember. We probably got distracted, but either way, we never made sure we both completed our lists.”

Chuckling awkwardly, you keep your eyes on the plate. “I don’t even know if I still have mine—”

“I do,” Heeseung interrupts. “We put them in that box, remember? I found it this morning, that’s why I thought to bring them up, ha.”

“You didn’t, er, read them, did you?”

Heeseung shakes his head, chewing through another bite. “I thought it’d be fun to go through them and see what we’ve done or not.” He lightly taps his fork around his plate. “We’ve got a few days before the new year starts, no plans, I don’t know…”

“No, no, yeah, I get it,” you assure, nodding quickly. “I just, um, they were stupid. I was stupid. This year changed me, you know?”

Your roommate looks at you with a teasing glint in his eye. “Oh yeah?” He watches you nod again. “All the more reason to get them.” And before you know it, he’s rushing to his room to, you assume, get the box he’d mentioned earlier.

It’s not long before he’s practically skipping back into the kitchen-dining area bringing the box. Tossing his plate aside, he sets the box in between you two and sits back down. You’re anxious at how he unfolds the lid and pulls out two sheets of crumpled paper.

“Yours was the one with the rip at the top,” you say, reading the questions in his mind. Your face flushes as you realize that’ll only prompt him to take it out the other first.

He smiles at you before hiding his face behind the paper. He begins to read it out loud. “Resolution one: Learn how to make (good) pancakes—” Grabbing his fork, he clinks it twice against the porcelain. “Check. Number two: Make weekly savings—Check, right?”

You hum, your leg shaking beneath the table.

“Alright, and then—” He lowers the paper. Your eyes widen. “Lose my virginity?”

“Okay!” you say overenthusiastically. “See! I was being stupid, such a dumb thing to write on a new year’s resolution list, right? Haha, so funny, let’s just throw these out—”

“Wait, but we can cross this off, though, right? You had that boyfriend?”

“He wasn’t my boyfriend,” you clarify. “He was… gross. I never really liked him like that, so it just never happened. It’s whatever, I’m a virgin, okay, let’s move on. Isn’t the next thing I put down like eat more salads—”

“You’re still a virgin?”

You look at him bewildered. What was up with the intonation? Was it really shocking? Why does he even care? You suppose he’s always been the nosy type, just never assumed it would translate to this, as well.

He seems to realize the second meaning to his words and fumbles to take them back. “Okay, not like—I didn't mean it in a weird way, I’m just surprised that you’re... you know?”

“It’s… whatever,” you clarify. “It’s fine. It’ll happen at the right moment, right? That’s what they all say.” You'd shovel another bite into your mouth and you can’t help but taste the bitterness from your words with the sweetness of the syrup. “I’ll get over it when it’s done and gone.”

Heeseung clears his throat, paper discarded to the side, his eyes fixed on your plate in deep thought. “Do you…”

You raise a brow.

“Do you want my help?”

In your defense, you really hate being a virgin. Not that it’s embarrassing or shameful to be one, but the fact that you swore to yourself that you wouldn't be a virgin anymore since last year makes you want to crumble up inside.

You just don’t want to embarrass yourself in front of your past self. Imagine her laughing at you? That’s a new low.

Which leads to this moment right now. Laying in Heeseung’s bed, in Heeseung’s room, waiting for Heeseung to come back into said room with the “supplies” he was rushing out to get.

The door slowly swings open as Heeseung pushes it with his back, his hands full. He makes eye contact with you and a pout makes its way across his lips. “You’re still wearing your clothes?”

Your eyes snap open wider. “Yes?!”

“We’re gonna have sex, Y/N, your clothes aren’t supposed to be on.” He smiles at you as he sets down lube and condoms.

A wave of relief washes over you when you realize he’s just teasing. Heeseung’s a gentleman, but it’s not like you've gotten the chance to know the side of him you two swore to never let you meet. He could’ve been a weirdo creep for all you knew, as long as he was paying his half of the rent it never mattered until right now.

“Do you want me to turn around when you take them off?” Yep, just the same old awkwardly sweet Heeseung you’ve always known.

You smile, albeit nervously. “You’ll see me naked anyway, might as well put on a strip performance to get you in the mood.”

He laughs at your sarcasm, then points to the lights. “We could turn those off if you want.”

For a moment, you consider it. If not for the hopes of Heeseung seeing the least possible,  but for the ambiance. Do people leave the lights on or off during sex? Not like you know. Ultimately, you shake your head, getting off from the bed and sticking your hands under the hem of your shirt. “Ready?” you ask him, though the question is more internalized.

His hum is muffled by his hands reaching at the collar of his shirt.

At once, you two pull your shirts off together.

Standing bare chest to bare chest - with bra - you eye him carefully. “You take your shirt off from the top?”

“What?”

You mirrored his previous action. “You took your collar and pulled your head through the neck hole first—” your words muffle as you reenact it sloppily. “Normal people take their arms out first.”

Heeseung stifles a laugh behind his hand. “Aren’t you supposed to try to seduce me?”

“Is this not sexy?”

“Oh, please, go on, you’re making me hard.”

The two of you laugh and you realize you’re not so nervous anymore. The anxious jitters left your hands and you can feel your muscles relaxing. It’s just Heeseung. Just Heeseung.

As he recovers from a fit of laughter, you look at him in a way you haven’t taken the chance to ever since you met almost two years ago. His arms that flex when he wraps them around himself. His smile which switches to a sly smirk when he’s resisting the urge to laugh louder. His hair that falls neatly into place, over his eyes that glint to the point you can’t take your gaze away from them.

Heat rushes to your cheeks.

He’s attractive. Yeah, that’s been obvious.

Your type? Maybe…

But this is different. And, oh god, he’s going to have sex with you.

Heeseung clears his throat, snapping you out of your daze.

“Pants?” he asks cautiously. His eyes are brimmed with concern, probably sensing your confused thoughts, clearly not understanding what you’re telling yourself.

You respond by tugging at your sweatpant laces, letting them drop down dramatically. Heeseung keeps his eyes glued to your movement, eyes widening at the sight of your bare legs and white panties. He quickly reaches for his belt.

To your surprise, you can see that he’s, at the very least, getting hard. Maybe it’s nerves. You try not to think too much about the possible influence the sight of your almost-bare body has on him.

Still, to test the waters and ease or completely disrupt your mind, you ask, “Can you help me with my bra?”

He fumbles an answer, you’re pretty sure you hear a ‘yes’ through his blabs, as he kicks out of his pants fully and stumbles to your side of the bed. You turn your back to him, giving him the cue by raising your hair away from the clasp.

Shivers run down your spine at his gentle, warm touch on your skin. You never knew you were sensitive, but with every simple movement, every brush against your back has you feeling goosebumps running up your arms.

Heeseung’s breath is hollow behind you.

When the clasp is finally undone, you pull your arms out of the straps, letting the material drop to the floor with your other discarded clothes.

You turn to face Heeseung, his eyes saying more than any words could mean. Stunned, he asks, “Can I kiss you?”

“Yes,” you whisper in return, eyes drifting down to his mouth.

He doesn't hesitate to lean in. His arms naturally slide around your waist, pulling you flush against his body as his lips hungrily crash into yours. You gasp through the initial shock of ferocity, relaxing into his hold with your hands coming up to the nape of his neck.

His fingers squeeze your skin pulling a sound from your mouth, muffled by his lips. You don’t even notice the way his knees push you back until you’re laying on the bed, lips still attached to Heeseung’s, but even those pull away eventually. You almost get up onto your elbows to chase after his touch, but stop yourself at the sight of his intense gaze.

Your gazes lock with each other for a moment, before he finally breaks contact to rush to the bedside cabinet where the lube bottle sits. He pours a generous amount on his fingers, rubbing the gel slowly. He eyes the way it reflects the light and this one reaction makes you think he’s never seen it before, but you doubt it — you’ve heard his sexual escapades thanks to your graciously thin walls.

“I’m going to finger you first,” Heeseung interrupts your thoughts.

You simply hum in return, letting your legs fall apart for him to get back into place, between them.

Heeseung has one hand on your thigh, the other levitates over your skin with nearly-dripping lube, but his eyes are on yours, waiting for another nod before he can continue.

Giving him the signal, you aren’t prepared for the chill that runs down your spine at the cold sensation of the lube on your sensitive skin. Soon enough, though, your gasps turn to gentle hums as Heeseung draws little circles on your bare pussy.

“This okay?”

You nod needily.

One finger finally intrudes, swimming through your walls and curls to find that certain spot. Your hips roll into it—you never thought it'd be this different from your own fingers.

“More,” you whimper.

“Already?” Heeseung teases, but you can hear partial genuinity in his tone.

Wordlessly, your hand reaches down to his, pulling at it to get another finger inside of you.

Heeseung chuckles in disbelief, but doesn't disobey your request.

Two fingers in and you’re letting soft gasps escape your lips, eyes already threatening to roll back at the rhythmic pattern Heeseung’s keeping up. He pushes in, pulls out, pushes back in and curls into you. You match his pace with your hips, hoping to deepen his touch. He’s so close, so close to where you need him.

Meanwhile, his thumb rolls gently over your clit to ease the tension of the stretch. It helps, making your head spin and forcing you to focus entirely on the pleasure you feel, rather than the pain.

Heeseung doesn't warn you when he slips in a third, but you’re busy throwing your head back, moaning to tell him off for it.

“Fuck,” you whisper to the ceiling. “‘Is so good.”

Your back arches as Heeseung’s fingers reach your G-spot, curling and tickling the bundle of nerves, ripping out more muffled moans, your hand thrown to your mouth not to disturb the neighbours.

“Right there!” you moan. “Right—shit, yes—Right there!” When he keeps at it, you can't hold on much longer. “Fuck, I’m so close—”

And then it’s gone.

All the pleasure is ripped away from you as Heeseung pulls out of you coldly, barely looking your way as he turns to the bedside cabinet.

“Hey,” you whine, albeit childishly.

It’s as if something clicks and he turns back to you. “Sorry,” he singsongs out. “I didn’t want you to come so soon, I still have to actually fuck you, right?”

You pout, but ultimately he’s right. That’s what you're here for. “Fine.”

He fumbles with the condom packet, eventually giving up on going at it with his lubed-fingers and rips the package with his teeth.

“I could’ve helped,” you tell him, smiling teasingly.

“I got it. I got it.” He waves his hand at you before he uses that same hand to roll down the condom and—Holy. Shit. He’s packing.

You never took the time to think about his size, though you probably would've determined it was a decent size from the outline of it when he's chilling on the couch with sweats on.

But now that it's out, hard and flush against his toned abs? You take a deep breath and try not to think too much about how it must taste, how it’d feel to have him down your throat—as if you even know how to give a proper blowjob. Maybe he could guide you, holding your head from the back and pushing it back and forth rhythmically up and down his cock and—

“Y/N?”

“Huh?”

“I asked if you’re sure about this?”

He’s pumping his cock as he asks. You resist the urge to lick your lips.

“Yes,” you say. “I’m ready.” And there’s no lie in your words.

Heeseung crawls back onto the bed once more, staying on his knees when his body is lined up with yours. He nods to himself and you before lining up his dick with your entrance, one hand falling to the side of your head, the other resting on your lower stomach as he pushes in slowly.

The intrusion is unfamiliar. The stretch hurts more than expected. Yet, your mouth is agape in frozen pleasure — Heeseung let his hand fall lower and is now drawing circles on your clit to ease the tension.

He keeps his thumb on your pussy while slowing his movement to a stop. “Tell me when I can move.”

Instead of relaxing into the stretch, preparing yourself for more friction, you focus entirely on Heeseung’s movements on your clit. Rolling the bud of pleasure between his two fingers, your eyes flutter shut in pleasure.

You test the waters by flexing your core muscles, squeezing your walls against Heeseung’s cock.

“Fuck,” he groans, snapping his hips forward at once, but he quickly stops himself. Heeseung looks up at you with cutely worried wide eyes. “Shit, sorry—Are you okay?”

You giggle. “Go!” you say between laughs, rolling your hips down to get him going.

He doesn't need to be told twice. He quickly resumes his previous thrust, your legs are naturally pushed apart to give him more access—moans spill from your lips at the newfound depth he reaches.

Heeseung’s head dips, his hair falling over his face, but does nothing to hide his expressions. You watch him for a moment, reveling in how good your pussy is making him feel. You clench around him again and his mouth falls open. He lets out the most harmonious sound you never expected from him but want to hear again and again.

So, you roll your hips into his, until your lower stomachs are threatening to brush against each other, until Heeseung lowers from his hands to elbows, and your bodies are flushed against each other. Your skin is sticky with sweat, but you can’t be bothered. Not with his rhythmic thrusts reaching so deep inside of you. Not with his fingers still playing with your clit, torturing the bud with nonstop pleasure. Not with his lips so close to your mouth, and your head pulling itself upward to capture them in another kiss.

Your hands snake to the back of his head, curling into his messy hair and pulling gently to bring him closer to you. His free hand finds its way into your hair, too, pushing the flyaways back into the rest of the mess, away from your face, before it rests gently on your neck, guiding you in the kiss.

“Fuck, baby,” he whispers into your mouth as your walls clench around him again.

Your head spins at his low tone, pleasure bubbling in your stomach in a way it never has before. “I’m—Shit—I’m so close!”

Heeseung takes this as a signal to speed up his fingers on your clit, and slows down his thrusts, deepening them with each push in.

“Come on, come for me.”

And you do.

So much, like never before.

Your back arches into him, head thrown back, letting out a sinful string of moans. You’d curse from the pleasure, but your thoughts aren't coherent enough to form words.

You’re frozen in place, legs shaking as Heeseung pulls out to finish himself off. He jerks off into the condom on top of your wasted body, coming undone as soon as your dazed eyes meet his hungry gaze.

He doubles over, landing on his hand, face mere inches away from yours. “Fuck,” he says.

“Fuck,” you repeat, a giggle in your tone.

“Congratulations,” he says, rolling onto his back to be laying beside you. “You’re no longer a virgin.”

Your weak arms raise in a small celebration. “Yay.”

“How was it?”

You can’t even respond, hands coming up to cover your flushed face. You can almost feel Heeseung’s smirk behind them.

“I’ll take that as good.” Then, after a beat. “Does that mean you'd want to do it again?”

Your hands fall flat to your sides in one quick movement. “What?”

“There’s so much more I can teach you.”

“No,” you say while shaking your head. He looks defeated, you almost want to reach up and pet him like a dog. “Not until you buy me dinner.”

[breelandwalker]

Wolf Moon - January 13 2025

Shake off the cold and sing to the sky, witches - it’s time for the Wolf Moon!

Wolf Moon

The Wolf Moon is the name given to the full moon which occurs in the month of January. The name is said to be derived from the sound of wolves howling with hunger while prey is scarce in the midst of winter. Given that we now know that wolves howl mostly for communication, my personal opinion is that people huddled in their homes during a very dark and dangerous time of year probably noticed these sounds a lot more readily with little else to occupy their time as they waited out the winter, and thus were set to worrying about ravenous beasts invading their villages and farmsteads. (It’s worth noting that wolves preying on livestock was a very real concern for most people outside major cities for many centuries, so this isn’t entirely unfounded.)

The name also calls to mind the howling of the wind during winter storms, or whistling around the eaves during the long cold nights. And for those of us who might not have been careful with our spending over the holidays, I might cite a tongue-in-cheek reference to the wolves being at the door when those credit card bills come due.

[For those not familiar with the English phrase, to have “a wolf at the door” is a saying that refers to some imminent hardship or disaster. In modern parlance, this is usually applied to poor finances or looming bankruptcy.]

This month, the moon peaks at 5:27pm EST on Monday January 13th, so the moon may appear to be full on the nights of the 12th or 13th, depending on where you are in the world.

Some North American indigenous names for the month of January and its’ moon are Cold Moon (Cree), Center Moon (Assiniboine), Severe Moon (Dakota), Ice Moon (Catawba), and Spirit Moon (Ojibwe). Other names include Mantis Moon (South African origins), Quiet Moon (Celtic), and Moon After Yule (Anglo-Saxon).

What Does It Mean For Witches?

As a new year dawns, it’s time for rest and reflection before we set out on the next phase of our journey. While the cold weather lingers, take some time to sit by the fire, literally or metaphorically, and take stock of where you stand, what resources are available, and what you plan to do with them.

Check in with your near-and-dear following the mad rush of the holiday season as well. Make sure that friends, family, and community members around you are doing all right. Offer support and kindness where you can, but don’t overextend yourself. It’s your time to recuperate too, and it is good and healthy to set boundaries which allow time and space for yourself.

While it's a bit early to expect progress on our goals and resolutions, the beginning of a new calendar year is a good time to lay the foundation for what we intend to do with the year to come and to reflect on the year that has just ended. It's also the perfect time for self-assessment in your craft. Take a moment to acknowledge where you are, how you've grown, and what you might like to do next. Perhaps do some journaling on the subject, if you're so inclined. You can outline your craft knowledge and beliefs, mark the lessons you've learned, or record your progress. (This is a great way to measure future milestones and personal growth!)

What Witchy Things Can We Do?

Winter is a prime time for storytelling. Back in the days before internet or television or radio, people would often read to each other or tell tales to pass the time. Consider re-reading a favorite book that inspires you or exploring some region of folklore or mythology you’ve been meaning to look into. If you have children who are of an age to enjoy stories, read them some of your favorites or introduce them to something new. Share stories and discussions with your witchy circle too!

While you’re at it, take a moment to examine the role that folklore and stories play in your practice. If you subscribe to a particular mythos, be it through deities or just general belief, consider which parts of it resonate the most with you and why.

Consider also the lessons of the winter season - the necessity of rest between periods of growth and activity, and the role of death, cold, and darkness in the natural cycles of life. What do these things mean to you and your practice? Are they a source of fear or fascination? Do you come alive in the winter or bundle up and wait for spring? How can you best remind yourself to pause for breath as the year goes on?

And of course, the beginning of a new year is an excellent time for goal-setting and divination. You’re making resolutions for your mundane life, so make a few for your craft while you’re at it, and pull out your cards or runes or pendulum for a New Year forecast on how things might go. If you need some ideas or inspiration, you can check out this article on Casting The Bones or try this craft-building exercise to Create Your Own Personal Runes.

Happy Wolf Moon, witches! 🐺🌕

SOURCES & FURTHER READING:

Bree’s Lunar Calendar Series

Bree’s Secular Celebrations Series

Wolf Moon: Full Moon in January, The Old Farmer’s Almanac.

Why The 2025 January Wolf Moon Is So Insanely Powerful, The Peculiar Brunette.

Casting The Bones: How to Read and Throw Bones, The Peculiar Brunette.

Witchcraft Exercise - Creating Your Own Runes, Bree NicGarran. (Masterlist here)

Moon Info - Full Moon Dates for 2025

Calendar-12 - 2025 Moon Phases

Everyday Moon Magic: Spells & Rituals for Abundant Living, Dorothy Morrison, Llewellyn Publications, 2004.

Image Source: What Is A Wolf Moon?, The Fact Site.

(If you’re enjoying my content, please feel free to drop a little something in the tip jar, check out my monthly show Hex Positive, and find my published works on Amazon or in the Willow Wings Witch Shop. 😊)

[oraltraditionfiction]

Us | QH43

Quinn Hughes x f! reader (angst)

Summary: Snippets of you and Quinn's secret relationship, and the aftermath.

Warnings: angst, hurt with no comfort, ambiguous ending, sad Quinn, anxious reader etc

WC: 1.8k

Author's Note: !!! This is fully inspired by us by Gracie Abrams (which has been on repeat for like. 4 days now. absolute banger.) This is pretty angsty 😭 I apologize in advance I think I was just really in the mood for some pain.

This has an ambiguous ending (for the most part) but I do have an idea for a part 2 if anyone is interested! Anyways, enjoy! - 🐇

(I'd also like to note that the italicized poetry is taken from Crush by Richard Siken, and Leaping Poetry by Robert Bly!)

I know your ghost, I see her through the smoke, She'll play her show

And you'll be watchin'

He caught himself watching you again. It had been habit for so long now. Checking on her from the corner of his eye. He had learned to act in such a way that it was hard to tell he was stealing a glance at her. Her. He needed to snap out of it. 

He looked straight ahead, steadfast in his resolution to break old patterns. He could hear her from the end of the hall. She was briefing one of his teammates on the video they were about to film.

“I know this is hard but please try not to swear, at least not too much. The timbre of her laugh, echoing down the hall. Quinn  knew without looking at her that she was checking her phone. Her disorganized notes app, full of spare ideas for videos and poems that came to her during the twilight hours. “Oh! I know this is obvious but, try not to talk about anything personal that you or a teammate wouldn’t want 400 teenagers online to know.”  He watched from lowered lids as she brushed past him, a slight hesitation in her steps as her shoulder brushed against him. “That stuff’s just hard to edit out-“ her voice trailed off as they turned a corner. The reverb of her warm murmur echoing back to him, taunting him. He just knew she was reminding Brock not to talk about anything personal because of him. 

He scuffed his covered skate against the worn floor. Tilting his head back against the wall. He closed his eyes, and imagined that he was waiting for her to walk with him, instead of someone else.

Wonder if you regret the secret

Of us, us

He could remember the first wrong turn.

“What do you mean you don’t want to tell anyone?” He had asked, confused, thumb stroking against her pulse point soothingly as she cradled his face. 

“Quinn…” she had sighed, suddenly looking so small and vulnerable sitting on her old patterned couch. He kissed her palm, a small comfort.

“I mean, you’ve seen the weird shit people can comment about the wags.” He nodded. “Imagine just seeing that all day. All that negativity. And it’s just your job to navigate that and delete it. I’ve seen awful things about some of these women.” She swallowed, slipping her hand away from his cheek. He missed the warmth immediately, absently leaning into her orbit to make up for it. “I just,.. I don’t know what I would do. Knowing that people were saying those things about me.”

Quinn understood. Honestly the thought of seeing those kinds of things said about her…

Yeah. He could keep a secret for a few more months.

“Sure, sweetheart,” Quinn said, folding her into his arms. “We can keep it quiet for a little bit longer. Just until you’re comfortable.” He could feel her melt into him, relaxing at his agreement. Once she was more comfortable with the idea of them, he thought she wouldn’t mind what people would say.

It felt like what I've known

You're twenty-nine years old

So how can you be cold when I open my home?

Quinn  placed the last box on the bedroom floor, lovingly labeled “poetry <3”. As he gingerly cut through the packing tape, he heard a gentle knock on the door. 

“You don’t need to knock,” he laughed, turning his head so he could look at her. 

“I mean, it’s your house still-“ she said, anxiously shifting her weight from side to side. Quinn stood, fondly shaking his head as he approached her.

“Your house too now, sweetheart,” he said, wrapping his arms around his girl, and swaying from side to side. 

“I just don’t want it to be too soon Quinn. It’s only been like, a year.” Shesaid, tense in his arms. 

“Mi casa es tu casa, right?” he said jokingly, trying to get the woman in his arms to relax. 

She laughed, encapsulating the room in warmth again. They melted into each other, the tension evaporating. “I don’t ever want to make you uncomfortable, Quinny.” Murmured softly into his shoulder.

Quinn hugged her tighter, trying to forge them together, “you could never make me uncomfortable,” he said as he placed his cheek atop her head. “I feel like I’ve known you forever.” And as he said that to her, he knew it to be true. This love was different, quiet— almost sacred.

And if history's clear, the flames always end up in ashes

And what seemed like fate

Give it ten months and you'll be past it (you'll be past it)

He knew it had to move at some point. Every morning it confronted him, like a ghoul living in his sock drawer. Quinn reached for the intruder, thumb brushing against delicate blue velvet as he withdrew the small ring box from its hiding place. The man sighed as he flipped it open once again. The light reflecting off of the diamond and shining small, nebulous glimmers of light across his tired face. 

A click as he closed the box, the sound of a sharp thump. The little blue box landed somewhere amongst the debris on your abandoned side of the closet. It had been nearly 10 months. Out of sight, out of mind.

That night you were talkin'

False prophets and profits

They make in the margins

Of poetry sonnets

Quinn watched, transfixed as you read aloud to him. His head sat heavily on her thighs, savoring the feeling of her hand touching his hair absentmindedly. The words nearly escaped him, too immersed in the way her sweet lips shaped the words. Nectar falling from her mouth as she kept the meter.

“I had a dream about you. We were in the gold room where everyone finally gets what they want.

You said Tell me about your books, your visions made of flesh and light and I said This is the Moon. This is the Sun. Let me name the stars for you. Let me take you there. The splash of my tongue melting you like a sugar cube... We were in the gold room where everyone finally gets what they want, so I said What do you want, sweetheart? and you said-“

“Marry me.”

It was spoken on the breath of a sigh. Nearly inaudible. Still, the room seemed to lose some of its color. 

“What?” You whispered, hand withdrawing from his hair, leaving an inexplicable dread lingering around his heart.

Quinn sat up, nose brushing hers. “I meant it.” He reached for her hand, shaking and limp in her lap. “Marry me. It’s all I’ve ever wanted.” He breathed out as he looked into her eyes earnestly. 

“I-“

“I know you’re scared. And I know you don’t want anyone to know about us.” The man said, placing her hand on his heart, cradling it gently. “But I don’t care! I would marry you right this second if I could.” He leaned his forehead against her temple, murmuring “just you and me, baby. No one has to know. I would marry you in secret, as long as it means you’re  mine.” Quinn was rambling now, but he’d do anything to convince her. “I already have a ring and-“

His hand landed unceremoniously in his lap. 

Before he could reach out, before he could even breathe, she slipped out of his grasp.

“I’m sorry.”

And Quinn felt like he would never breathe again, staring across the room at his sock drawer and the now open door to what was once their bedroom.

Robert Bly on my nightstand

Gifts from you, how ironic

Three drinks in, and Quinn was conquering his fears. There was 11 months of dust buildup on the slim book, still clinging to the paperback cover. He thumbed it open, nearly caving in and going back for another drink as he glimpsed the tail end of the note you had left for him underneath the title page. 

“- hoping these poems will remind you of me when we’re apart.

Love you lots,

Yours-“

He flipped to another page, hoping to find something he hated enough that he could find the strength to finally throw this book out.

“Longing to find her in a phrase, and be close-“

Quinn closed the book.

Mistaken for strangers, the way it

Was, was

The moment he was  dreading was here. You approached him after practice, quietly waiting for the rest of the team to file past. You toyed with your phone anxiously, “Is it alright if I grab you for a quick video?” She looked as tired as he felt these days. He just stood, gazing at her, responding with a  slow nod. She smiled, relieved. Quinn had almost forgotten what it looked like in person. Still a such a sweet sight. 

He leaned in slightly, irresistant to the gravity of your presence. As you opened your mouth to speak, lips quirked up into a private grin, a voice came from behind him.

One of the new girls on the social media team. She smiled as she approached. “I didn't realise you two were close! Guess it’s something to look forward to, huh?”

You forced a laugh saying, “Well, when you work with someone for two years, you get about as close as coworkers can get.”

Quinn’s spine straightened, in no mood for media duties now. He thought of the ring box, and all the photos he still had yet to delete. The stolen kisses in supply closets, the notes you left him in the margins of your favorite poetry books, highlighting secret code in between the stanzas 

(“O love,  where are you leading me now?”). The words of her favorite poem echoed in his head, “As close as coworkers can get” 

He mumbled something about putting his gear away as he brushed past you, no longer recognizing the foreign way your shoulder bumped against his.

Do you miss us, us? (Us, us, us)

The best kind, well, sometimes

Do you miss us?

He stood, leaning against his counter, trying to decide the best way to respond to this text. 

Out of the corner of his eye he could see the cardboard box full of miscellaneous objects to donate, the creased cover of a poetry book peaking out.

He made his decision.

A blind date sounds great! Is she free Friday?

[teatreeoilll]

Hollow (Gojo Satoru X Reader) - [Part I (RED)]

˚• . ° . • . ° . • . ° . • . ° . • . ° . • . ° . • . ° . • . ° . • . ° . • . ° . • . ° . • . ° . • .

w/c - 1.3k content - fem!reader, not proofread (I'm sorry it's just soo late rn), child!reader (in this part), horrible parenting, mild swearing I guess?

• . ° . • . ° . • . ° . • . ° . • . ° . • . ° . • . ° . • . ° . • . ° . • . ° . • . ° . • . ° . • . °

When you were four years old, Gojo Satoru, despite being only two years older, looked at you for the first time with nothing but disdain in his cold blue eyes.

As a result, enraged by this look, you furrowed your brows, pointed a finger straight at his face, and fearlessly labeled him, "Asshole."

"Where'd you learn that word?" Your mother shrieked behind you as she yanked on your ear, twisting it enough for a sharp pain to follow suit. "You will apologize to the heir of the Gojo clan." She demanded through gritted teeth. "Right now, you hear me, brat?"

So you did, with your mother pushing your head down in a deep bow before the uninterested boy, ignoring how your tears stained the walkway leading to the Gojo estate. "I'm sorry," you sniffled, managing to raise your gaze just enough to see his indifferent expression mocking your suffering, causing you to mutter asshole over and over again under your breath.

-

Only two years later, your mother's relentless determination secured an invitation back to the Gojo estate. You resisted, knuckles turning white from clinging to the car door while your mother's patience wore thin, "You'll go in and make friends with him, you ungrateful child!"

Everything inside the estate was too grand, too expensive, and about as warm and welcoming as the glass of a museum display.

You sat and watched your mother's behavior change acutely in the presence of the older Gojos, engaging them in polite conversation over the dinner table while the heir himself caught your gaze, holding a boiling teapot in his hand.

Mesmerized, you watched as he poured a searing stream of tea over the back of his palm, the liquid slipping off like water off a duck's back, leaving no trace of damage or wetness on his hand.

Seeing this as a challenge, you grabbed another teapot from the table, tilting it hastily over your palm. A cry of pain tore through your lips as you hurled the teapot away, watching the porcelain shatter beneath your feet as you clutched onto the freshly forming burn.

"I am so sorry!" Your mother's muffled apologies filled the room, the size of it giving them a cathedral-sized echo. "Apologize." She ordered from beneath your feet, picking up the porcelain pieces while you stared blankly at the tea dripping between the wooden boards, wondering where it was going.

Your mother loomed over you in the kitchen, wrapping a bandage over your burn, "Why was I cursed with such a useless child? When will you understand it's for your own good? If they don't increase the funds for our company.." A defeated laugh came out of her mouth when you whinced at the tightening gauze. "What am I even explaining to you?"

"I don't know, mama."

"Listen, do you like your dresses?" And you nod obediently, thinking of the floral patterns on the fabrics in your closet, "Your shoes? Your food? The friends at your pompous school?"

"Pom-pous?" You mumble, trying to interpret what the word could mean.

"Do you?"

"I do." You concur, still not quite following.

"Then you'll be nice to that boy, do you understand? Smile when you see him, laugh when he says something funny; hell, do whatever he tells you to."

You sit back at the dinner table, moving the chair so roughly towards Satoru that his eyes narrow at the scraping sound it makes. You sit on the chair obediently, informing him proudly, "Mama told me to do whatever you tell me to."

"Your mama said that because she wants something from my parents." He announces, watching his parents get swallowed back into spewing pleasantries.

"M-hmm," you nod resolutely, "She says she wants an increase of fun." Satoru blinks slowly at your words, and you place your hands on your knees, directing a blank stare at the wall at the far end of the room.

A few minutes pass before the heir finally interrogates, "What are you doing?"

"I'm waiting for you to tell me what you want me to do."

"Alright," He pulls you by the sleeve away from the table, getting his parents' attention by merely standing up and their approval by lightly nodding his head. You throw a look at your mother, to which she smiles, mouthing 'good girl' before returning to her discourse.

"Where are we going?" You inquire. He had long since stopped tugging at your sleeve, but you followed him out of the estate like a lost puppy regardless, beginning to feel restless at the unfamiliar streets growing dark around you.

"To do something I want to do."

-

"Takahiro's Con-ve-ni-ence?" you read aloud the letters printed on the shop window, sending a puzzled stare to the boy next to you.

"You like sweets?" Satoru asks, the light from the shop window brightening only half his face; the shadows formed on the other half making him look severe.

You shake your head, "I like salty."

"Then you haven't tried enough sweets." The boy looked almost offended at the shake of your head. The thought of your mother's resentful look had passed through your mind, making you shudder.

"I like sweet."

"Is it sweet or salty then?" The boy furrowed his brows, already halfway through the door into the shop, "Never mind, just wait here."

You watched him through the transparent windows, disappearing into an aisle and reappearing from the other end. Time stretched out excruciatingly as you watched the strokes of the light from the store trying to push away the darkness of the buildings on the other side of the road.

"Girl," a voice muttered, "girl, girl, girl, girl," you swore you saw a twitching figure in a building's window. You looked around, making sure you were, in fact, the only girl in the vicinity.

You pointed a tiny finger at yourself, gazing straight at the window, mouthing, 'Me?'

"Yes, child." The voice wobbled, "Child, child, child."

You cough, your throat sore from the frosty air you'd breathed in while walking, "Do you need help?"

"Yes. Help. Help, help." The voice rasped, louder now. You squinted at the window, the figure still at the same spot, strange hands caressing the cold, slippery glass.

"Where are you?" The inside of the building was pitch black. The light from the shop failed to reach the large doorway, but you told yourself that you should be fine as long as you feel its presence at your back. "If it's dark, you sing, yes? Keeps them away, the bastards." You remember your mother's words, humming a tune under your breath.

"Help. Help. Help, child." But the stairs seem dangerous, and your throat is too sore to keep humming; an eerie gust of wind from a crack in the wall makes you fumble back a few steps before you thump on your behind. The presence draws in, a nightmarish being that engulfs the room whole, a hint of light reflecting on its sharpened teeth.

Footsteps. A pull on the collar of your shirt. A burning sensation on your thigh from grazing the floor. A harsh breath and a word; "Red."

"Red," the boy repeated, "red!" louder now, taking a spot before you, one arm extended before him, "red!" the scream is a desperate plea, "crap, get up!" He turns swiftly, still shaking his arm as if trying to rid it of a bug, "D'you want to be dinner?"

You shake your head, feeling your knees give in, too weak and trembling to hold an entire body, no matter how small. The being still looms over, feeding on the powerlessness to approach.

Satoru grabs your arm, pulling on it harshly to get you on your feet, and runs. You pass the doorway, catching a glimpse of a plastic bag lying outside the building, pieces of candy sprawled on the concrete around it. Your shoe sinks on a chocolate bar, flattening it; you almost lose your balance, close to slipping on the wrapper if not the iron grip on your arm.

Finally settled on a bench beneath a street lamp at the edge of the Gojo estate, you find the strength to inquire, "Your magic spell didn't work?"

Taken aback, Gojo grumbled, "Yeah, but I'll make it work, next time."

"Next time?" you wonder aloud, "Do you see monsters often?"

"Let's get inside, your mother must be worried."

-

You only see Gojo Satoru again seven years later.

[long-live-astronerd-ghost-king]

Bonus DP x DC prompt “Star-crossed lovers” to this prompt where Batclan ship “Pitch Pearl”

"Give me my Romeo, and, when he shall die, take him and cut him out in little stars, and he will make the face of heaven so fine that all the world will be in love with night and pay no worship to the garish sun." -Juliet (act 3, scene 2)

Red Hood stays in Amity Park to observe the situation after the romantic conflict resolution between Fenton and Phantom.

One day from a rooftop next to the Fenton Works he sees Fenton putting toxic ectoplasm in a bottle on the table, sighing and pouring it into a glass.

The horror of plunging into the Lazarus pit flashes before Jason’s eyes. Who would be crazy enough to want to experience such a thing? And for what?

As a proud bookworm, he could not help but remember the story of Romeo and Juliet at the same moment.

"My only love sprung from my only hate, too early seen unknown, and known too late! Prodigious birth of love it is to me that I must love my enemy." -Juliet (act 1, scene 5)

Parents who are against relationships and hate the fact that their child’s partner exists? Checked out.

Dead Romeo? Uh, yeah, definitely.

Vial of poison? Freely available in the lab.

There can be only one logical conclusion: Seeing the dead lover, Fenton thinks only about how soon to die himself.

Is Fenton ready to join his lover in the Kingdom of the Dead? He has no guarantee of returning as a ghost, so why risk it?

Jason*runs to save “Juliet”*: I defy you, stars!

~~~~

Needless to say, sleep-deprived Danny is extremely unhappy when a guy in a leather jacket breaks into his house and tries to take his lunch away. 

Both boys panick, scream and absolutely not hear each other.

Jason: Don’t do this! It’s not worth it, there must be another way! 

Danny: Give me my soup back, thief! Take the turkey, it’s going to go bad.

Jason: I am serious.“ Love moderately. Long love doth so.

Too swift arrives as tardy as too slow.” Leave the ectoplasm to the dead ones, boy.

Danny: What a coincidence, I’m already dead deep deep inside.

Jason: Don’t joke, you should talk to a therapist.

Danny: Great idea. Jazz, help! Human in the house! This is not a drill!

Jason:..In general, both of you should talk to the Justice League. They can protect Phantom from your parents, don’t worry. You are not alone. 

~~~~

Fenton, sitting in front of the Justice League.

Flash: So, you and Phantom, how did you decide to start dating?

Danny: Well, what can I say in defense.. "Death, that hath sucked the honey of thy breath, hath had no power yet upon thy beauty." -Romeo (act 5, scene 3)

Justice League:

Danny: Just kidding. I learned a whole quote for this. Can someone be proud of me, please? 

Batman: Hmmm

Danny: Thanks. And relax, I knew him before he died. Our relationship has always been complicated but we literally can’t exist without each other. So don’t worry about our breakup, it’s unlikely.

Danny: And don’t think I’d kill myself in such a stupid way, it’s boring. You might want to be more concerned about whether or not I’m shocking myself with a Fenton portal than watching my food. My stomach is indestructible, tested by years of ecto-contaminated cooking. But I don’t want to die. All this RIP is a complete lie. Trust me.

Red Hood: You. use to eat. ectoplasm?!

Danny: Yes, it's very nutritious. But you need to develop tolerance to it, otherwise you will be able to try it only once in a lifetime.

[forbebeandjam]

New Year Love | Bada Lee x Fem Reader | fluff

Summary: the young and famous dancer decided to have a new life with you by her side.

Word count: 1.3k

Fluff and some angst (just a little bit)

A/N: sorry I didn’t post this sooner. I had been trying to get my life together before I have to go back to work. I usually have to make sure what I’m writing isn’t rushed but anyway! Hope you like this 🤍

~

"Get the fuck out of my house! All you do is cause trouble anyway," Your mom said as she threw your things out of the house.

The reason behind her actions began when you decided to join a dance studio to learn dance. That had always been your dream. However, you couldn't afford it. You were only eighteen years old and you had gotten fired from your job.

It's not like it was your fault. You were trying to balance your studies, two jobs, and taking care of your little sister. Your parents lived off you and you hated it, but you loved your sister so you put up with it.

Until you had enough. You told your mom how tired you were of having to choose between, work, school, and your sister. You told her you wanted to go to school and dance and she... she laughed.

You didn't expect more from her and then she threw you out of the house. With nowhere to go and teary eyes, you picked up your things, shoved them in your bag, and walked to your school.

You sat on a bench near the entrance and hugged your body tightly. December 31st never felt so lonely and cold as that night. Then you felt someone sit next to you.

You froze in terror thinking it was probably a creepy man or a guy from school that came to mess with you when a light turned on. Then you saw her face and you were too shocked to say anything.

"What brings you here?" She said as she sniffled and dusted the snow off her coat. You furrowed your brows in confusion. Bada. Lee Bada was talking to you. The same girl who was in your class for years but never acknowledged you. The girl who everyone praised for being on TV several times because of her amazing choreographies.

"Cat got your tongue? Come on Y/N. You're usually so talkative around Dami. Why not with me?" She said with a small chuckle. Then you caught a glimpse of her eyes. Red and puffy. She had been crying and she just needed someone to talk to.

"Well, I guess this isn't the perfect place to spend New Year's but, it's better than the place I used to call home," she shrugged and hugged yourself a bit more trying to hide your coldness from her.

"Did you feel out of place too?" You asked again. You could feel droplets of sweat dripping down your forehead.

"Yeah... people rarely see me for who I am nowadays. They all focus on my future and fame. I can't have one moment to myself and when I do, I hear the whispers of people talking about how they can take advantage of my name. It's very lonely," she said and her shoulders relaxed a bit.

"Wouldn't it be nice to run away to a place where no one can mess with your peace? That's my New Year's resolution. Move away from my parents," there was a small pause after she finished her words.

"What about you, Y/N?" She said and tired to you.

"Gosh... you're freezing," she said and placed her coat around your shoulders. She zipped it up carefully and her hand graced your face. She flinched and her eyes were filled with worry.

"You're burning up. I need to get you to a hospital," she said. You could barely open your eyes but you managed to tell her you couldn't afford it.

"Don't worry about that. We need to go now. Get on," she crouched down in front of you and you weakly got in her back. She picked up your things and began walking to the street to look for a cab.

Once you were in the hospital you seemed to have lost consciousness. When you woke up it was daytime. The light of the room was shining on your eyes and you groaned. Your throat felt itchy and you had a headache.

"Happy New Year, Y/N," Bada said as she entered the room.

"Bada, what are you doing here?" You asked.

"I tried to contact your family. They cursed at me and told me you were dead to them... I'm sorry," she said as she placed food in front of you.

"If you pity me because of the rumors running around school, drop the act. I hate when people pity me. I'll manage on my own," you told her and looked away as your eyes filled with tears.

But the tall girl didn't leave. She sat next to you. You didn't dare to look at her. It was the only time someone gave you attention without having to ask for it.

"You still don't get it.." she said.

"Get what?" You asked, feeling curious about her words.

"I've always wondered why you were so distant. How can your pretty eyes can carry so much love and so much pain at the same time? How can you always be awake despite all of the things you do in a day?" She said.

"How do you-"

"I've been watching you. Ever since you transferred to this school I thought you seemed pretty cool. I wanted to be your friend so bad but you never seemed to care about anything other than your school work. After hearing the rumors about you, I knew your life was pretty difficult and I didn't want to make things harder for you so I decided to stay away from you," she paused.

You couldn't believe it. All of the things Bada just said were spinning in your head. You tried to make sense of them but you couldn't. There was no way Bada, The Bada Lee, wanted to be your friend.

"You... Why? Why did someone like you even acknowledge someone like me? People try to stay away from me because of my parents. They think I am like them. You never once thought of me as someone like that?" you asked still in disbelief.

"Never. I knew that you had a hard life and that you didn't deserve it. And I knew what your eyes were hiding. I'm sorry I didn't try to approach you and sprinkle a bit of happiness when you needed it,"

"I don't know what to say. It's gonna take time for me to heal but... I'd really love for you to stick around," you responded not looking at her eyes.

You felt a warmth around your hand realizing that it was her hand.

"I'll never leave you. Never," she said and you finally looked at her. That smile. That sweet sweet smile of hers just made it 100 times clearer. You never wanted to be away from Bada.

(A year later)

And there you were. After she finished school, you two went to live in a different city. You were both thriving with success and you moved in together. Just the two of you in your shared apartment as roommates.

It was evident that the two of you had fallen for each other but neither dared to say a thing. How could you ruin something so perfect with such a vague feeling?

So you say at the dinner table looking out of the window to see all the pretty fireworks. You leaned your head on her shoulder and she hugged you tightly.

"Happy New Year, my love," she said. You lifted your head and looked at her with wide eyes.

"Did you..."

"Call you, my love? I did. I want everything with you. I want to kiss you and hug you and help you heal. I want to give you the world and care for you. I want to spend my New Year's with you like this. So, please say yes and be mine?" She said as tears filled her eyes.

You didn't say anything but launched yourself into her arms and kissed her. Softly, then passionately.

You couldn't believe the words coming out of her mouth. Something so painful as that night turned into something beautiful in the course of a year and you swore that was all you needed to be happy.

You couldn't wait for a lifetime of love and happiness next to Bada.

Thank you for reading 🩵

[1-helluva-hazbin]

Growing Pains

Lucifer x Reader

Content warning: fluff, trust building, slow burn, building communication skills, self improvement, fast proofread (please excuse the errors)

Summary: Lucifer's attempt to bond with you, a newer resident of the hotel, spectacularly backfires. Unable to avoid Lucifer, with an impending sinister catalyst, necessitate a resolution forcing you to work through your avoidance tendencies.

Author Notes: This one shot is on the longer side. Let me know if you think I should have made it 2 chapters or if it works as it is. I also wanted to apologize for the day delay! Yesterday did not go as I had planned.

Word Count: 6183

Thank you for all the love and support you choose to give!

Charlie and Vaggie were sitting and talking in the hotel lobby not too far off from you. Vaggie’s one arm, the one you could see, casually draped over the back of the couch. Her thumb stretched from its resting position, lightly caressing her partner as they talked. A minute affection Charlie didn’t seem to notice in her exuberant excitement. One you couldn’t help but focus on, completely ignoring the book you were looking over. You forced your attention back to the book momentarily before Charlie started laughing. The sound ripped your gaze from the pages back over to the loving couple. Charlie’s hand now on Vaggie’s arm. 

It made the skin on your arm prickle with goosebumps.

“My, my, my, weren’t you ever taught it’s rude to stare?” The accusation startled you from your fixation and you tilted your head to see Lucifer propped from beside you. One eyebrow skyrocketed nearly to his hairline while the over exaggerated smile on his lips seemed to pull painfully tight on his lips as he attempted to playfully exclaim, “It’s almost like you’re plotting something!”

His quip stung, intentionally or not. You had noticed since arriving his method of interacting with other sinners was usually to tease them about sinner-like things; violence, cannibalism, plotting against other people, their drug use. His favorite against you was that you were plotting a scheme, usually against Charlie. Everyone had been slightly wary of you upon your arrival. Charlie had sworn up and down that it would change. That since you always seemed so aloof and standoffish it was just unnerving for some people in the hotel. Including her dad who was trying, in his own way, to connect with all the sinners when he was around. He had a couple thousand years of prejudice to work through but, he was trying!

She had taken to coaching you at every interaction you had with her. Even Vaggie had jumped on board with her encouragement. If one of them said hello and asked how your day was, a simple ‘fine’ wouldn’t suffice. It didn’t encourage bonding! No, you had to elaborate. Tell them what you did that day. Did you learn anything new? What books are you reading? Share with them things about yourself! Ask how their day was. Reference something they previously told you. Have an actual conversation.

 As well intended as they were, it was exhausting. Having gone from almost solitary living for the last century or two -between working in a job where you were almost completely unbothered while living with a single roommate whom you could go days without speaking to- this was a complete 180 and utterly tiring. You didn’t uproot your life to make friends. You had come here to work on redeeming yourself. Get into heaven if it was possible. Which Charlie repeatedly told you included being friendlier, kind, thoughtful, and most importantly selfless. Even if you didn’t necessarily care about everything other people had to say, it was important to still allow them space to be themselves without judgment and make sure they felt heard. That is what would help get you into heaven!

You had noticed as time wore on, begrudgingly so, the tactics she had you practicing had been working. Several of the newer residents had loosened up around you and started conversing with you on a somewhat regular basis. During some of the group exercises where Charlie would tell people to pair up, they had come up to you and suggested you work together. It was just a skill you had let wither that you needed to redevelop. A plant you needed to relocate from shade to sun. 

Whatever analogy you needed to tell yourself you did to prevent yourself from giving up. You came here for redemption after all which meant something needed to change and maybe that was part of it. You wouldn’t have been cast to hell if you had gotten things right.

So as Lucifer loitered beside you, you tried to keep in mind you needed to be better and that this was his way of connecting like Charlie had said. Regardless of how it stung hearing it time and time again. This was just practice. More draining practice. “I’m not plotting anything sir.” you said, closing the book in your hands before setting it down to make sure he knew he had your attention. Now what though? 

You wracked your mind for what to say next. Charlie said to be honest with people. How do you explain to him why exactly you were staring? That you had started craving physical touch again since coming here. That after having gone years without  brushing against anything other than the books you worked with, that having Charlie clasp your hands when she was excited or Angel throwing an completely unwarranted arm over your shoulders when he wanted to use you as a prop for his dramatics, those simple actions had suddenly rekindled your human, well sinner, desire for contact. How pathetic would that make you look? How weak? Then to have been caught fixated on them, desperate to live vicariously momentarily.

“I was just…” you drawled. The idea of telling the truth set your face ablaze in embarrassment. You couldn’t bring yourself to say the truth. You looked over at the couple settling on your answer. “...admiring their relationship.” 

He openly laughed, playing along with his original story, “Mmmmhm. If you say so~~.”

A combination of frustration and disappointment washed over you. Completely incinerating any trace of the embarrassment you have felt over the real reason why you had been staring. Hearing him happily hum as he sauntered over to Charlie not believing an ounce of what you said regardless of your lack of ill will towards the princess. If he was only joking, why was it the same barb over and over? Why were you the one he continuously chose to make that specific joke with? It really didn’t feel like a joke anymore. 

You looked down at your book trying and failing to speedily process your emotions. You heaved yourself up turning to leave. Not wanting to exist in other people’s presence anymore. Too emotionally taxed.

Wrapped up in your own feelings and thoughts you missed Lucifer glancing back at you. You missed the jarred skip of his step as he caught sight of the haggard expression during your momentary unmasking. You missed the fact he stopped walking all together as you slipped from the room.

You quickly found shelter in the sanctity of your room. Recharging the rest of the evening cocooned in the fuzziest blankets you had, that you made sure always smelled of orange and cinnamon, buried in the book you had just gotten. As the evening slipped into night though, you slipped from your room and made your way down the hall needing a small break from the confines of your quarters before heading to sleep. Because despite your exhaustion, you enjoyed a little fresh air before bed.

Living on the second to top floor had its downsides; like being closer to Alastor’s studio or hiking up the seemingly endless number of stairs. You personally felt it had more perks though. One of the best upsides being a small balcony with a cafe styled table and chairs. Later in the evening when a good number of the residents had either retired to their room for the evening or were still out partying, there was a blissful window of time where there was little risk of running into some else. So you would make your way to the balcony and sit looking out over the city.

Disconnected but present.

You pulled one of the chairs next to the railing so the back of the seat was at a 90 degree angle to the railing. Plopping yourself down, you perched yourself in the seat with both feet up. One arm rested on the railing so as you leaned forward, your belly pressing into your legs, your chin and cheek resting on your arm rather than the cool metal. A few adjustments here and there quickly remedied any qualms your body had with the positioning and finally you were nestled in. The final signal of settling a small decompressing huff.

The usual sights and sounds greeted you. Your eyes scanning for any changes or immediate drama to observe from your box seat above the masses. Angel Dust and Husk walking away from the hotel caught your eye. Angel talking with his whole body as Husk just shook his head in amusement. Angel suddenly buckled over laughing before reaching out to place a hand on Husk’s shoulder to steady himself.

The skin on your shoulder prickled and you involuntarily shiver. You look away from them too little too late. The ache for contact instantaneously tearing at you from the inside. The arm wrapped around yourself tightened in a futile attempt to ease the ache, already knowing from experience it wouldn’t work. You buried your face in your arms contemplating just going back to your room to lose yourself in the book that had occupied your warring mind earlier.

A click sounded from behind you making your head shoot up to see a bashful appearing Lucifer holding the door open. He gave a lopsided grin, gingerly pointing to the second seat, “Do you… mind if I join you?” 

You blinked a couple of times, staring at him. Immediately wary of his presence. The lingering silence dragged on, making him shuffle anxiously before you gave permission with a curt nod. You directed your attention back out towards the city despite being hyper aware of him.

A quivering laugh slipped from his lips as he stepped out a little too close for your liking, admittedly the size of the balcony was intended to be intimate, and closed the door behind him as he sat down in the seat across from you. He immediately stretched out, slipping his legs through the railings, putting one elbow on the table between the two of you. “Not a bad view from up here. If you ignore most of the gun shots and ‘fuck you’s’ it can be pretty enjoyable.” He shot a sideways glance over to feel out your reaction at his attempted small talk.

“Yeah it is.”

 The city sounds echoed between the two of you. Distant conversations filling the void that the two beings right there were unable, or unwilling, to fill. He nervously laughed, his fingers drumming on the table. You looked over to him this time. Seeing his eyes flittering from object to object unable to choose 1 thing to look at.

Quickly, his drumming fingers started to grate against your already worn nerves and tired mind. Unable to bare whatever this was any further, you attempted to excuse yourself as you started to stand. “It’s late. I’m heading to-”

“No! Wait! Wait!” he sat up from his faux relaxed pose holding out both hands. “Just… hold on.” he breathed out yet another quivering laugh, the panic shining brightly in his eyes as you bore into him with yours. 

He took a deep breath. He looked away, mentally giving himself a small pep talk before he looked back. “I wanted to talk. About earlier.”

“I’m tired….” you admit as you stood there looking down at him. His nervous grin and hopeful eyes making your resolve to run buckle. “What about earlier?” you ask, easing back into your seat placing both hands of your clasped on the table.

“Thank you.” he said before beginning to explain. “When you were leaving the lobby,” he specified, making a circle motion with one of his hands, “you looked, well, upset.”

“I looked upset.” you repeated.

He slowly nodded. His next words said slowly and carefully, “I was… wondering if it was something I did? Or said?” he paused before further clarifying, “I wanted you to tell me why.”

You scoffed. Perhaps it was the unroofing of a metaphorical wound his joke had made. Perhaps because you were tired. It could have also been a combination or something completely unrelated. Regardless, you were unable to hold back the venomous sarcasm that slipped from you, “Well I can’t imagine why.” Lucifer’s eyes widened, the reaction only egging you on. “It’s like constantly being judged for something you didn’t and wouldn’t do isn’t upsetting.”

Lucifer stared blankly, “What?” 

“Oh you’re plotting against Charlie I see?” your voice lowered in a pathetic attempt to mimic the king. “How many times did you think you’d get away with making the same joke before I realized you clearly meant it? That you’re genuinely suspicious I’m out to hurt Charlie?”

“I didn’t-”

“How many times do I have to tell you I’m not out to get her? I like Charlie! She’s kind! She’s thoughtful! Yeah she’s irritatingly persistent but, she needs to be.”

You had started to dig your nails into your own clasped hands in your flurry of emotions unable to reign them in. You took a breath, realizing you needed to step away from this conversation. You stood up just as Lucifer found his voice. “I never meant for it to be an accusation. It was meant to be a joke.” You felt your emotions spike again, your jaw clenching, as he continued, “I saw you staring at them an-”

“Because I’m TOUCH STARVED!” the words were out of your mouth before you could consider what you were saying, “I saw them giving one another affection and was just so envious! I just stared! I didn’t mean to, I-” You glanced up to him to  find a look of confusion, twisting with what you interpreted as disgust, on Lucifer’s face that made your train of thought grind to a halt to reevaluate why his expression was so. Your mind finally processing your admission. “I just…” A hand slowly lifted to lightly cover your mouth, your eyes widening.

“What now?” he asked, the confusion deepening in the expression of his face. A raised eyebrow. A lopsided frown. The slight tilt of his head.

Your face started burning, chest tightening. It instantly became hard to breathe. Panic. You were panicking at the vulnerability you had just bared. Anger melded with embarrassment in the midst of your anxiety. You bristled, launching into an unneeded defense. “You know what, I don’t need to fucking explain myself to you.” You turned, throwing the door to the balcony open, practically running back to your room. Anything he might have said behind you drowned out by your panicked thoughts.

A sleepless night followed. Unable to calm your mind, it ran in circles in your head; justification of your outburst, realizing you completely blew it all out of proportion, getting angry that you had allowed such a vulnerability to air so freely, fear of what Lucifer might do with the information or who he might tell, embarrassment at being so weak, anger at the conversation having happened, before feeling defensive again to repeating the looping train of thought. As the day’s light started to breach the veil of night, only then did you finally slip into unconsciousness utterly spent. 

The next few days were spent dodging Lucifer which was relatively easy since you were simultaneously also attempting to fix your wrecked sleep schedule.  When you were going to sessions though, you did your best to preemptively vacate any areas when you heard Lucifer approaching or avoided areas you knew he would be in. The change in behavior had mostly been easy to truthfully explain to Charlie as well when you boiled down the scenario into the simplest of terms. You had gotten upset about something and had ended up not sleeping well. While she of course wanted to know the whole situation to help you navigate it in any way she could, she was respectful, admittedly a little pouty, when you said it was something you weren’t ready to talk about. Not having to lie to her made you feel a little better since you missed quite a few of her group exercises. 

While many of the residents didn’t care or hadn’t found the change to be too out of place, when paired with your explanation, it didn’t slip the careful eye of Alastor. The first day it had seemed to catch his attention but, by the second day he had taken a keen interest in your antics. When you would try to slip out before Lucifer would come into a room, he would stop you to talk about your participation in the session. Once he told you Charlie wanted to speak with you and then took you into a room where Lucifer and Charlie were talking, only for him to have misheard Charlie’s request. While he framed his actions as innocent and well intended, you had never seen the grin on Alastor’s face as wide as it was. It was unnerving. 

By the fourth day, you weren’t just paranoid about running into Lucifer. Alastor’s newest hobby had seemed to become tormenting you and his questions and conversations had become probing. Feeling out cracks in your story. At one point he had even told you he was all ears for any issues you might have with other residents or guests. 

Having lived through his rise to power, you knew there was no good to come from exposing yourself to such a machiavellian individual. You wouldn’t put it past him to worm a deal out of anyone, even as lowly you. An expendable pawn was still a piece to play and he was one to look at the bigger picture. 

At that point, you garnered enough gumption to face Lucifer. You couldn’t risk getting caught under Alastor’s thumb and the idea of him knowing you were touch starved and how that could be held against you igniting a spike of anxiety. You knew Lucifer and Alastor were not on good terms but, the idea of word getting to Alastor was distressing. You loathed the idea of facing Lucifer but you needed to ensure your blunder remained under wraps. This was for self preservation at this point.

Towards the end of the day, you sequestered yourself to your room to prepare; plan key points you wanted to discuss, how you wanted to phrase things, etc. You knew you couldn't lose your head again, considering how the prior incend had led to the current circumstances. After an hour or so though, you felt ready. 

You made your way to the top floor, taking extra precautions to avoid running into Alastor potentially heading to his studio. Once certain Alastor was not loitering about or following you, you made your way down the hallway towards Lucifer's room. You focused on your breathing as you trekked the hall. Attempting to quell your anxiety and slow your racing heart, to no avail. By the time you reached his door, your pulse was thrumming in your ears and you were certain he would be able to hear it too.

You stood before his door paralyzed. Both hands clenched at your side. Unable to stop the tremble that plagued them. Your eyes locked onto the perfect white presetine door as if trying to bore holes through it. Your breathing uneven. All the words you had practiced having evaporated from your head as you made your way there.

This was a mistake.

You pivot. Hurriedly, retreating.

Halfway back towards the stairs your eyes register Alastor's studio door and the terror that drove you to the point resurface. You halted. Your hands flew to your head in a silent temper tantrum as your mind raced to determine what would be the lesser evil. A sense of urgency gnawing at you considering you were standing dead center in the hallway of a barren floor.

What was worse; not knowing if Lucifer might reveal what you had said, accidentally or intentionally, with everyone including Alastor potentially finding out or turning around and confronting Lucifer?

The first concern was all just a possibility though wasn't it? There was no guarantee that it would happen. Talking to Lucifer wouldn't guarantee that he wouldn't spill your secret either. You let out a soft, maniacal sounding laugh as you took a step forward only to stop again. A possibility that would weigh on you for weeks to months leading to you lurking around the hotel, as you had been, haunting the place. Harrowed by the uncertainty at every turn.

"FFFUuuuucccckkk..." you groaned softly. Your palms sliding down your forehead pressing into your eyes. You needed to confront Lucifer. The realization making your stomach churn. You couldn't continue dodging him and you couldn't outrun the fear. You turned resting your back against the wall, your hands on your knees as you bent over mentally recollecting yourself. You went through what you had gone over before in your room. Reminding yourself of the key points. 

You sighed and brought your palms to your eyes again. Slowly breathed out. Pulling your hands from your eyes, you launched off the wall propelling you back towards Lucifer's room. The momentum only lasting a few steps before freezing again. 

"Heeeey, as entertaining as this pantomiming is, and it's a great performance, I would appreciate getting access to my room sometime tonight."

Your face blanched as a shiver slipped down your spine. You slowly turned to see Lucifer standing behind you. Both hands perched on the apple of his cane and a practiced smile on his lips. One eyebrow raised, almost lost beneath the rim of his hat, as he watched you tentatively turn towards him.

Instantly you straightened yourself and stepped aside. "Good evening." your voice was dry and hoarse. 

"Yup. Good evening." he chirped back, unmoving. Your eyes were locked onto a spot on the floor, your mind utterly blank. As the seconds drew on, his smile tensed as he nervously waited for you to do...something? His fingers drummed on his cane. "Well... if the performance is over I'll be heading to my room. Have a good night!" He looked away awkwardly and started on his way.

A quick glance at his back got the gears in your brain working. What were you doing? He was right there. You were screwing it up. "Wait...wait! Lucifer…" It was soft, but loud enough for him to hear. He slowed and turned looking back. 

"I..." Your eyes meeting made you want to run. The idea of having this conversation replusing you. You pushed off the wall and walked over towards him, fighting the urge to flee. "Are you free? I-...I would like to apologize and talk. About the other day?" Your face felt flushed.

Lucifer shuffled and gently smiled which was unnerving. It was a smile you had only ever seen reserved for Charlie and Vaggie. "Don't you think it's rather late? It would be a little unproductive if we had a repeat of last time."

The comment struck a nerve considering it was earlier in the day than when he had approached you. It must have shown on your face as his smile dropped paired with your response. "That's fine. We can talk tomorrow."

"Unless, you're not tired?" he asked, putting his nervous smile back on and laughing anxiously, "We could have a cup of tea this time. Chamomile perhaps?"

You hesitated but, then nodded. "That would be nice."

He nodded, as he started towards his room onto the spin around. "Ah! You're comfortable talking in my room right? I wouldn't want to make an assumption! We could certainly talk on the balcony again if you prefer!" 

"Uh, somewhere private is preferred so your room is fine." You respond bluntly, his nervous energy deflating. He nodded once more, his grip on his cane as tight as a vice. 

The two of you made your way to his room; him leading with you trailing after. His room was surprisingly clean though you couldn't help but notice a small work area over to the left of the door with two piles of perhaps 50 or so rubber ducks. He had noticed your gaze and eagerly redirected you over towards the windows where he had a little cushioned bench seat perched below. As you settled into the seat, Lucifer got two tea cups ready with a snap of his fingers.

He carried them over to you with practiced care and gingerly handed one off to you before he sat down as well. You took the cup, admiring the beautiful and intricate abstract design on it, before lightly blowing on it and taking a sip. 

"Sooooo..." he drawled, having quickly taken a sip from his cup as well, "before you start, there is something I wanted to bring up if that's alright." Your eyes flick to his, his expression a mask utilizing his usual smile. You nod, making sure he saw before he proceeded,"I need you to explain to me what you meant by 'touch staved'."

You gawked at him. You hadn’t heard what you thought you just heard. “What?”

Lucifer blinked before looking a little frantic and blurting out, “I know what it means! Of course I know what it means. I’m the king of hell. I’m not so wildly out of touch that I don’t!” he laughed looking out the window before taking a sip of his tea, “I’ve also heard it can mean different things to different people. So I want to know what it means. To you! I want to know what it means to you.”

He finally looked back to you taking another sip of his tea, already halfway through his small porcelain cup. Meanwhile, you felt like you were short circuiting sitting across from him. Not only had you spent the last few days fretting and dodging the angel, worrying that he would tell people what you said, but now he was asking you to spell it out for him. Was he….messing with you? You studied him before he gave you a toothy grin coyly purred out, “So?”

It didn’t seem like he was messing with you. Something like this was more Angel Dust’s style of teasing. You mimic Lucifer by taking a sip of your tea for a slight delay. You carefully set the teacup down on the windowsill next to you and place your hands in your lap. “I need you to promise me you’ll never tell anyone.”

“And why would I do that?” He asked. He was messing with you now though you were in no mood for it.

You narrowed your eyes at him and stated as matter of factly as you could despite wanting to spit venom defensively, “I’m not untouchable like you. We’re in HELL. Anything and everything can be used against you by the wrong people. I can’t end up having someone use anything I say here against me.” 

His facade softened and his smile dropped into a frown. He brought the teacup up to his lips and muttered something into the chamomile. “No one is  untouchable…”

You heard him say something but, hadn't been able to make it out so you remained quiet.

“I promise to never tell another soul.” he finally sighed.

“On Charlie’s life?” you asked, knowing he could still share what was said as there was no magic binding him. You needed to know just how serious he was though and Charlie was usually a good indicator. His eyes flashed red and they narrowed at you. You held firm, keeping eye contact and straightening your spine.

“On my life. No reason to bring Charlie into this.” he leaned back, his eyes fading back to their normal golden hue.

You hesitated to accept but relented with a nod. Knowing you had to accept the compromise he offered but, you did feel satisfied that he wouldn’t share what was said. You started thinking about where to begin. As you contemplated, you felt your face heat in embarrassment. He watched, patiently biding his time as he lightly tapped the rim of his teacup with a claw topping it off with more tea.

“For me…” you looked him, locking eyes. The embarrassment clawing through you. The intensity making you panic. Your eyes darted away. Finding a spot on the floor to stare at again so you could think with even a fraction more clarity. “For me it means I… I …miss…touch.”

You glanced up to him, to see the sight raise of an eyebrow. Your mind started churning with worst case scenarios and suddenly your face burned hotter. You looked away again.

“Not sexual!” The words spit out, not wanting any uncomfortable undertones to the conversation. “It’s just… simple touch. Like hugging. Lightly having someone put their hand on my shoulder. Even just bumping into people. Any sort of skin contact makes me want more and afterwards that’s all I want. It takes days for that to calm down and since being here… that’s usually around the time something else happens. It’s a never ending cycle.”

He listened, his face remaining neutral as you spoke and he remained silent for a beat after you finished. You rubbed your arm. Between talking about the topic and your nerves, there was a compulsion to do something with your hands. He broke the silence, “The other day when we had our…falling out, you had been watching Charlie and Vaggie because you saw them touching one another? That is why you mentioned being envious?”

You nodded, closing your eyes as you took a breath in an attempt to calm yourself.

He smiled. His fingers rubbing the edge of his teacup as he gazed into it. He knew those feelings all too well. “That…makes sense.” You open your eyes to look at him, noticing the look on his face. He noticed your movement and looked up to you, giving a lopsided smile.

Lilith had been absent for 7 years.

Your eyes widened at the possibility and dared to pose the question, “You too?”

Lucifer stiffened a moment, took a breath and nodded. “Yes. Even I have those days.”

He took a sip of his tea and looked out the window. You picked yours back up and mimicked his action.

“I’m sorry…” you said after a few minutes of what you felt was relatively comfortable silence. “I shouldn’t have yelled at you the other day. It wasn’t fair. I was tired and already feeling…exposed? Hmm…sensitive is probably a better word…”

“Regardless, I knew I was tired. I should have asked to shelve the conversation once I realized it wasn’t something I couldn’t handle right then and there. I’m also sorry for not actually hearing you out once you started since I didn’t ask to stop. I’d like to try discussing it again if you’re willing.”

You spoke while looking out the window. Seeing him shift his attention to you from your peripherals you keep your eyes trained to elsewhere. After you finished, you turned slightly to look at him from the corner of your eye.

The conversation that followed supplied far better results than the last. He clarified how all of his barbs had been an attempt to be playful since he didn’t know you well but, understood how hearing it over and over had manifested as a passive aggressive accusation on your end. You apologized for having taken it that way and not properly addressed the issue before it started to fester as anger. The compromising being he wouldl stop trying to interact with you in that way with the caveat being if he slipped up or tried something new that you didn’t appreciate, you would address it before resentment could build.

At the end, the both of you  sat on the bench sipping the last of your tea looking out at the city. At some point, Lucifer had opened one of the windows. A light caress of warm wind slipped in scattering goosebumps up your arms despite it not being cold and you brought a hand up to rub them, hoping they rescinded quickly.

Lucifer’s eyes slid to the motion. “So how long has it been since you had, I guess, consistent contact with someone?” 

You blinked, thinking about it. “A couple decades.”

“Decades?” he gasped out. He realized just how loud he had been and he coughed with a smile to cover up his reaction. “I mean. Decades. That’s… awhile.”

“Yeah, well…” uncertain on if he was genuinely surprised at the length of time or found it underwhelming and was being sarcastic, you weren’t entirely sure what to make of his reaction. “Most sinners don’t bother with libraries. The hellborn who do, don’t want to interact with a sinner and avoided me, opting for one of the other hellborns working. So I got left alone most of the time.”

You shrugged your shoulders and turned your attention back out the window. Thinking about it now, it hadn’t bothered you then. You suppose you might have just been ignoring that downside though. It had always been easy to check yourself out emotionally and just get through what needed to be done. Not contemplating what you wanted or what could be. Only focused on what was.

“Has…” you start and then stop, wondering if you should ask. You glance over to him seeing he hadn’t redirected his attention to you. “How long has it been for you?”

“Consistently?” he asked as he pondered the question he had posed to you. “A decade? Maybe a little longer. Lilith and I…” his eyes roamed down to his ring. “We had more downs than ups well before she left but I still got some affection in between when we had a good stretch.

A sad tone had seeped into his voice. He gently rubbed the ring with his middle finger, a sense of melancholy filling the room. You watched. Never having had an extended relationship with someone before, you couldn't pretend to imagine the feelings that lingered. You took a breath and then scooted over on the bench seat pulling him from his thoughts. You extended an open hand to him. He stared. He hesitated before slowly reaching out, his decision wavering for a split second before he placed his hand in yours. 

You gently took hold of his hand and looked back out the window. He was far warmer than you had expected him to be. His skin soft. You sighed softly feeling far less unsettled by the sensation than you had thought, regardless of how intimate the action could be seen. It was mindless for you as your thumb began to lightly caress the back of his hand. Lucifer fidgeted next to you, though he didn’t retract his hand.

You weren’t sure how long the two of you sat there. The sounds of the city echoing off the walls of his room with hell’s consistent warm breeze enveloping the two of you in wave after wave. Each of you basking in the warmth of the other, no matter how little it was. It wasn’t until you noticed Lucifer starting to nod off that you smiled and squeezed his hand.

His eyes fluttered open to find you looking at him with a bemused smile. The softest you had looked at him to date. “You’re tired.” 

“I’m not.” he mumbled, a well timed yawn slipping from his lips. You raised a brow with his response being a ‘tsk’ noise.

You slowly, reluctantly, pull your hand from his before pushing yourself to a stand. A stretch had a few of your joints popping. “Would be an awful idea to fall asleep like that.” 

He stood next to you with a noncommittal hum. As you reached for your cup and saucer, a snap of his fingers dispensed of both his and yours. You nod at him before you look over towards the door and then back to him. “Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it. That kind of magic is thoughtless to me.” he said, misinterpreting your meaning.

“I meant for talking things over and spending your evening with me.” 

He burbled out a laugh. “Oh well don’t mention that either. Literally. Don’t mention this to anyone. I have a reputation to uphold. King of hell and all.” he grinned at you with his characteristic saccharine smile.

“An exchange of secrets then?” You asked, entertaining a little bit of his playfulness. 

“Ah, still worried about me spilling the beans?” he asked, walking you to the door. “An exchange then. I won’t share yours if you don’t share mine.”

“Deal.” The response was quick and sharp. He opened the door and you stepped through the threshold, pausing and turning around. “Thank you again. I… enjoyed this. Most of this anyway.”

“My pleasure.” his hand did several circle motions as he performed a mock half bow. 

You rolled your eyes at his dramatics. “Goodnight Lucifer.” you say beginning to head off before you add, “Let me know if you would like to do something like this again. A tea time or something. I’ll make sure to keep it drama free.”

He grinned leaning against his door frame. “I’d enjoy that.”

[comicaurora]

Congratulations on finishing Arc 1! I've been following this comic since pretty much the beginning (I remember when everyone thought Alinua was a cat girl because of how her ears looked under her hood). This comic has come a long way since then, and it's been a pleasure and inspiration to watch your journey!

So with Arc 1 done, how do you feel? Any thoughts about the early days of the comic, or some lessons you've learned? What are you most looking forward to in Arc 2?

(Side note- thank you for Erin. My brain chews on him regularly and I gave a presentation on him in speech class. He brings me immense joy)

Whoof! I feel like it's slowly sinking in, tbh. I'm pretty bad at appreciating my own accomplishments - I have a tendency to Fire And Forget to avoid getting bogged down by "oh I'd have done this better now" or "eek I don't like how I did that" or "oh no this aged badly" or "what if I just redid it but Better this time" - but I've gotten better at accepting all those things as Not The End Of The World and they do not make me a Bad Artist or Bad Person, and as a result, I'm able to look back and just be happy about this one. It's an odd feeling.

At some point in the last several chapters I decided the ending of Arc 1 needed to feel like a conclusion. Not a full series finale, but a season finale. Character arcs needed to hit points of resolution; setup needed to pay off; cool moves needed to get some airtime. It's not in my nature to end stories, but as I worked on this arc I got comfy with the idea that an ending wasn't mechanically locking in the last part of a story and saying Nothing Past This Point, it was resolving the major elements of the story that cried out for completeness. Stories can have many endings before they're actually done, and in order for Arc 1 to feel like a complete thing, I knew it needed to bring those dangling plot threads home.

The fun thing about resolving chunks of the plot is those resolutions open the door for entirely new problems, and I'm excited to play with those! Part of why I wanted to make sure I had the rest of the year off was so I could take my time and just sit in the new status quo, because freeform creative idea-spinning is my favorite part of the writing process, and it's a rare treat for me to have such a wide-open swath of possibility ahead of me.

[leasstories]

The New Girl

Eddie Munson x fem!reader

TW: SH, blood, drug use, depression, mentions of bullying

Your family just moved in Hawkins Indiana, you're 18 and this is your senior year. You were your old town's freak, and the fact that you were a girl made it even worse. You were considered the town’s freak because you were mainly listening to metal and Rock N'Roll  but also because you loved Roleplay games. One day, you saw this magazine about Dungeon and Dragons and you really enjoyed the game's concept, you knew pretty much everything about this game but you had no one to play it with. This year means new resolutions and you decided to be the most "normal" that you could be. It means you have to say goodbye to the ripped jeans but also goodbye to the band t-shirts. And you even consider joining the cheerleaders even though you hate what they do. You won't be able to go through another year of bullying, all alone. Your high school years were really hard on you, you went into depression and school phobia and started having self harming habits. This year has to be different. You're even gonna hide your tattoos and you dyed your hair back in your h/c which is far different from their previous color which was claret-red.

This is your first day at Hawkins High, you dressed in a plain white, long sleeve t-shirt and a blue jean, and you only did your make up with foundation and mascara. You rush downstair, take your bag, a pancake and rush through the door while screaming "See you tonight !" to your parents. You hear your mom wishing you a good day before sitting on the driver seat of your car. You drive to school even though you are early and you hope you can find a calm spot in order to hide and smoke your cigarette before heading to class. You park your car on the parking, get out and see a little path leading to the forest, you take it and arrive at a picnic table, you sit thinking it's a very calm spot for your little pre first day cigarette. You sit down, take your cigarette out and start smoking when you hear leaves scrunching behind you. You jump off of the bench, to see a teenager, or young adult you don't know, with brown curly hair, brown eyes and his clothes are very similar to your former clothes. He raises his hands in surrender to show you he means no harm before speaking.

"I never saw you around"

"I'm new in town" you answer

The boy looks at you with his big brown eyes, you can't help but stare at him, but also admire him for being confident enough to wear the clothes he wants, you remember that once, you were like him, but that led you to be in such a dark place that you think it doesn't worth it.

"Then welcome perfect stranger, I'm Eddie Munson !"

You chuckle before answering "I'm Y/N, Y/N Y/L/N"

"Nice to meet you, I actually can't believe you are talking to me, most people would have ran away"

"Why is that ?” you ask

"Because I'm the town's freak" he makes invisible quoting marks with his hands "mean and scary"

"You don't seem mean and scary to me"

"Well thank you,  but you shouldn't hang out with me at school, not that I don't like you no, you are pretty and I enjoy talking to you but-"

You cut Eddie's rambling. "I can manage hanging out with the outcasts, I actually was an outcast in my old town"

"You don't seem an outcast to me, you seem the most normal person I've ever seen, and it's not an insult at all I promise" Eddie is all flustered and keep rambling.

"My style, my real style is similar to yours to be honest, I just changed it because I couldn't take being the freak anymore but I admire you. I admire you for not caring about what others think, and" you take a deep breathe "I want to learn, that's why, if you accept it of course, I'm gonna hang out with you at school"

While you were talking Eddie took a black lunch box out and started rolling a joint.

"I'd be honored to hang out with you, and I'll help you, I'll help you see how unimportant people's opinion is, all that matters is that you are comfortable in your own clothes, that you feel yourself. Do you even feel yourself in those ?"

You look at the ground, ashamed before answering "Not really..."

"You don't have to feel ashamed. I promise to help you be yourself" Eddie lits up his joint, you look at the joint tempted before Eddie asks you "Wanna share it with me ?"

You think about it, and if you're gonna walk into the hall of your new high school with him, you'll need courage, plus you haven't had one in two days now and the withdrawal is getting really strong so you nod.

"Before I share it with you I need you to say it out loud, please"

"Yes I want to share it with you"

Eddie hands you the joint and you take a few hits before handing it back to him. You look at your watch before cursing "shit ! Eddie we're gonna be late !"

Eddie shrugs but then he sees the panic in your eyes and takes his stuff before leading you to the high school.

When you both enter the halls, everyone looks at you. You start fidgeting with your fingers, really anxious for this first day when Eddie says. "You have nothing to be afraid of, if anyone is rude to you come to me and I'll flip them off"

You chuckle slightly before answering "thank you Eddie". Gosh you find this boy really sweet but also insanely attractive, but of course you keep your thoughts to yourself.

Eddie leads you to the secretary office and waits for you outside while you go pick up your timetable as well as your locker number and code. When you head out, you look surprised that Eddie is still here.

"What are you still doing here, you're gonna be late."

"I wasn't going to let you get lost in the maze that is Hawkins high, plus I don't care about being late"

"Thank you, I'm going to my locker and then to my first class"

Eddie snatches your timetable from your hands and look at you, grinning.

"We are together almost all morning !" he seems very excited at the idea of spending the morning with you and deep down you are too. You are also relieved.

"Sounds amazing" you answer

After your last class of the morning, that you had to spend without Eddie, you're going to the cafeteria, you enter and go grab food, once you have your tray, you look around for somewhere to sit when one of the basketball player, you think his name is Jason, goes to you and tell you "Wanna sit with us new girl ?"

You look at him in disbelief because of what he just called you, but you're kinda scared of him, you knew people like that at your old school, one of them used to hit you every single day, you start trembling a bit.

Eddie is sitting at his table with his friends from Hellfire. Gareth, Jeff, Dustin and Mike all look at the scene happening a few meters away which is your interaction with Jason when Gareth says.

"Look at the new girl already being seduced by the King of Hawkins high"

At those few words, Eddie raises his head from his plate and look at the exchange between you and Jason, he can sense that something is off but before he can say anything Dustin speak up.

"Why does she look so uncomfortable ?"

Eddie gets up on the table and scream "YN, you can come sit here if you want"

The whole cafeteria look at you and then Eddie in disbelief and Jason look at you with a glare saying 'don't you dare sit with him'. Before you could say anything Jason turns to Eddie and says "Want somethin' freak ?". The nickname make you wince and you get out of the cafetaria, running, with teary eyes. You run until you reach the picnic table you were sat on this morning.

Meanwhile, Eddie makes a face at Jason before jumping from the table and going to look for you. After 10 minutes of searching the whole High School, Eddie comes to the conclusion that you are at the picnic table. He goes there and see you with a bloody razor blade in your hand, crying. He delicately sits next to you and take the blade from your hands, he doesn't say anything because to be honest, he doesn't know what to say.

"I'm sorry" you manage to say between sobs

"Don't be YN, I am the one who is sorry, I should have been waiting for you at your class. What happened with Jason, did he say something ?"

You start crying even more at the mention of what happened in the cafeteria, Eddie start rubbing your back before he remembers the bloody blade. He looks at your bloody wrists and take one in his hand, he take his bandana and start wiping off the blood while you keep crying.

"I'm sorry if it hurts sweetheart but I have to clean all that blood"

You wince when the fabric of the bandana touch your wrist but you don't back up. You're ashamed that he saw you like that though.

After Eddie finished wiping the blood from your left wrist, he wipes the blood from your left wrist.

He keeps rubbing your back while you sob before asking "do you wanna talk about what happened in there ?"

You take a shaky breath before saying "I've known someone like Jason... back in my former high school, and he-" you start crying again "he hurt me almost every single day..."

"I'm sorry to hear that YN... Jason is a dick but he'd never hurt you like that, and even if he tried I wouldn't let him"

You look at Eddie, still sobbing, with your teary eyes and you mutter a shaky "thank you"

Then Eddie looks back at yout wrists and hesitate before asking "do you hurt yourself often ?"

You burry your face in your hands, ashamed and keep sobbing.

Eddie gets up from the bench and kneel before you, taking your hands away from your face. He lift your chin up so you can look at him before saying "You don't have to answer YN, but I want you to know that you can tell me anything, I'd never judge you or tell anyone what you tell me"

"I do..." you end up answering

Eddie look at you with saddened eyes before searching for a pen and a paper through his bag, he writes down his adress and phone number and hands it to you.

"The next time you want to do that, call me or  come see me, I'll try taking your mind off of it, and if you can't help but do it, I'll at least clean your cuts"

You take the paper after thanking him.

"Do you want me to bring you back home ?" You nod, you and Eddie go back to your car, once you've unlocked the car Eddie opens the passenger door for you.

"What are you doing ?" you say

"Driving you home" Eddie answers

"But what about your car ?"

"Don't worry for me YN, I won't let you drive when you're all shaken up, please let me do that for you"

You nod and climb on the passenger seat. Eddie close your door before climbing on the driver's seat. You give him the direction to your home. The ride is silent, but it's a comfortable silence. Once you arrive, Eddie open the passenger door for you before leading you to your door.

You unlock your door when Eddie says "See ya tomorrow YN !"

"Can you... can you stay please" you ask

Eddie look at you before saying "Of course I can, I have nothing better to do anyway, I can stay until your parents come back"

"Thank you so much" you say with a weak smile.

You lead Eddie to the couch and instruct him to sit down.

"I know you've been wanting to ask me something all the way home, please go ahead, ask me, whatever it is I'm prepared."

"Why do you hurt yourself ?"

You take a shaky breath before answering "Because the pain I feel inside of me is eating me alive, when I cut myself my focus is on another kind of pain, one that hurt less than the pain inside of me"

Eddie takes your hand. "I'm sorry, I wish I could take away some of your pain"

After this conversation, Eddie cheered you up, he made some jokes to make you laugh, you listened to Iron Maiden together, and when it was time for him to leave you kissed him on the cheek and Eddie was all flustered.

The next days, you spent a lot of time together and Eddie was always trying to put a smile on your face, he was doing everything in his power to make you forget the demons from your past, and it worked, every time you were with him  you were laughing and smiling. Thanksgiving holidays were approaching, which meant you would be all by yourself for a week. But you decided that you won't tell Eddie, he has to enjoy Thanksgiving holidays with his family, he needs to take time for himself. You can't ask him to spend his entire holiday with you even though you'd really like that. You can't be selfish, he's done so much for you in the past weeks.

This is the last day before the holidays and you decided to go to school with your style, you put on a black Metallica t-shirt with a black ripped jean, Doc Martens and let your tattoos show, you didn't tell Eddie that you would come to school like that, when you entered the hall, everyone was whispering, you went to class and sat at the last raw, next to Eddie's usual place.

Eddie was late as usual, when he entered the class he saw everyone whispering but paid no further attention, until his eyes spotted you. When he looked at you, his jaw dropped, he didn't think you'd be ready yet. He went to sit next to you and saw you figdeting and your knee bounce, you two had gotten really close in the past weeks so he put his hand on your knee and look at you, a look meaning 'I'm here for you'. The class go by and you keep fidgeting but Eddie keeps his hand on your knee until the teacher notice.

"Can I help you Mister Munson" she says

"I'm sorry Miss, I wasn't feeling well and Eddie was showing me emotional support" you answer

"The freak help the freak" says a cheerleader. Chrissy turn to you with an apologetic smile.

"Mrs Smith, I didn't ask for a comment, Mr Munson just remove your hand from her knee"

Eddie look at you before doing so, you nod, making him understand that it's okay. Deep down it isn't and you know that you aren't going to your next class.

When the bell ring, you don't even wait for Eddie and run to the bathroom, you lock yourself until the bell ring to indicate that the next class is starting.

Eddie enter the next class, he scans the room but doesn't see you, he doesn't care about what the teacher will say, he just get out of the room, ignoring the teacher who was ordering him to come back to class. He knew where you were but he also knew that you were hurting yourself, he knows how hard it had been for you and also know you weren't ready to handle everything that was coming with assuming your style, your mental health was still very fragile even though Eddie had helped you a lot. He had to find you, you needed him now more than ever.

You were sat at the picnic table, looking blankly at your bloody wrist when Eddie found you, he sat next to you and you were so afraid that you disappointed him that you decided to speak first, looking at your shoes.

"I'm sorry Eddie, I couldn't help it"

Eddie looks at you with a saddened but understanding look. "I'm not mad YN, I promise, let me fix this."

Eddie goes through his bag and take out some gauze and a bottle of antiseptic, he always has it in his bag since the first time he saw you hurt yourself, just in case. He didn't have to use it in a while, but he knew that you would probably relapse one day, and Eddie was glad he didn't take it out of his bag.

Eddie put some antiseptic on the gauze and started cleaning your wounds, he then looked at you in the eyes before saying "I really like your style" Eddie is grinning, even though he shouldn't be flirty, he can't help, you're just so beautiful, even more when you’re yourself. Eddie doesn't care about your scars, and even if it saddened him, the fact that you happened to hurt yourself wasn't something that made him run away. Eddie fell for you in those few weeks you spent together.

"Thank you for cleaning this up, and for the compliment" you blush at each special attentions.

"You’re not so bad yourself Munson" you added

Eddie got closer to you and took your hand in his. "I have something to tell you YN, and I know that now might not be the best timing but I can't keep it to myself anymore."

"I love you Eddie" you blurt out without thinking. When you realize what you just say you put your left hand on your mouth and take your hand away of Eddie's, ready to leave.

Eddie grabs you by the wrist and kisses you passionately before saying "I was going to say that I love you more than I should love a friend. And please don't interrupt me, let me finish. I really enjoy every moment with you, and I'm proud of you for coming to school like that, I'm proud of you for not self harming for weeks. Yes you've relapsed today, but relapse is part of recovery and please believe me when I say that you can tell me when you've done it, I'd rather be there for you, help you clean it up and help taking away your guilt than not knowing what you're going through. You've come such a long way YN, and I'm so so proud of you. I love you and nothing can change that."

You have tears in your eyes, what Eddie said is so beautiful, you don't even know what to answer to that, no one as never been this kind to you before and it's overwhelming, so instead of saying anything you hug him and don't let go.

It is Thanksgiving today, your parents left in order to spend Thanksgiving with your grand-parents as well as your aunts and uncles that you don't particularly appreciate, that's why you decided to stay home. You have been trying out outfits all morning long to find the perfect outfit and now you found it, you're gonna wear a black leather dress, tights and heeled boots, you put on some black eye liner, mascara and red lipstick. You've just finished putting your hair in a tight bun when you hear Eddie's van pulling up in your backyard. You rush to the door taking your keys and bag. Your run in Eddie's arms and hug him tight, your legs around his waist. Eddie chuckles and kiss you before saying "Ready to spend Thanksgiving with me and my uncle ?"

You seem a bit stressed so Eddie looks at you in the eyes before saying "Wayne is gonna love you YN, I'm sure of that"

You spend the ride hand in hand, listening to your favorite song, 'Rainbow In the Dark' by Dio.

"Eddie ?" you say, breaking the silence

"Mmh" he answers

"You are my Rainbow in the dark"

Eddie smiles and squeezes your hand. "I love you Sweetheart"

" I love you too Eddie"

And as Eddie predicted Wayne loves you and you spent the best Thanksgiving you've ever spent, surronded by people you feel safe around. Not thinking once about hurting yourself. Eddie is really your Rainbow in the dark.

If you or anyone you know has to deal with SH, depression or suicidal thoughts please reach out for help. https://www.cdc.gov/reproductivehealth/depression/resources.htm

[thatswhatsushesaid]

In addition to it being useful, disabled people also have a moral obligation to learn certain social and communications skills. Test statements, backhanded compliments, reading a room, knowing what is appropriate to say in front of children vs coworkers vs friends. Anything related to sexual harassment is high priority: where and how intensely you are staring, conversation appropriateness, appropriate places to touch people at different levels of familiarity (as a rule:ask if unsure).

It is extremely frustrating watching disabled people on this website call anything and everything ableism when, even by their own account, they behaved in a way that is inappropriate and discourteous. Humility is the first step towards self-improvement.

I'm disabled, I've worked with disabled people and I read the news.

i dunno if i’m comfortable calling it a moral obligation exactly (gotta sit with that one for a while to figure out why that wording specifically is giving me pause), but i agree with the spirit of what you’re saying, anon. like… my having adhd and a probable mathematical and spatial reasoning disability* doesn’t mean that i’m just off the hook from ever having to reason spatially or do math. wouldn’t it be great if i never had to do those things!! alas, we live in a society, etc.

[editing this to add: i should hope it is clear from my tone that everything here is relative; there are no universals when it comes to disabilities because all of our disabilities are different, and manifest differently. and sometimes they are going to come into conflict with each other in a way that has no easy resolution, does not result in anyone feeling seen or heard or adequately helped, and no one is the bad guy. i wish i had something more helpful to say on this subject, but my perspective is influenced by my own experiences trying and failing to get the help i've needed. ok, back to the rest of the post.]

the skillsets i’ve have to develop to deal with these challenges are different from what my abled pals have had to develop, because dealing with numbers doesn’t cause them the same problems that it does for me. but at the end of the day, i need to be able to navigate enough to get to where i need to go; i need to be able to file my taxes every year; i need to be able to remember complex chains of numbers; i need to be able to do basic arithmetic for my job. i need to be able to follow instructions and take the correct dosage of my medications. and likewise, if i am in a position where i need to provide help to someone else (either as part of my job or in an emergency), i have to be able to do these things, or i risk letting someone else down.

tl;dr being disabled means that doing all of these things is that much more challenging for us because of how our brains work. but we still have to do them, no matter how unfair it is that it is harder for us than it is for our able-bodied friends, because no one else is going to put our needs first but ourselves.

[byoldervine]

What I’ve learned from a year of writing goals

My New Years’ Resolutions for 2024 were all related to my writing, and I’m pleased to say that I completed most of them. They all taught me new things about myself as a writer so I thought I’d share them in an end-of-year round up. I’ll go over each one and what it taught me

Goal 1: Write at least 1000 words every week ✅

This was the main goal I had, and the intention behind it was to make sure I was writing consistently, and therefore making consistent progress. Even if I wrote the minimum for each week, that’d still be 52K words written during the year - and that’s guaranteed, not a few thousand cranked out all at once until I’m burnt out followed by months of inactivity

I found that watching my word count increase so often was actually really motivating for me personally, though I’d expected it to be more daunting at first. And some days I’d write a lot more than just the 1K, which was even more exciting. I remember one day I was so excited and inspired for one particular chapter that I cranked out the entire thing in one go, and that was so much fun. Other days I’d be struggling to even get through the 1000 words because I just wasn’t inspired or motivated enough, or I’d have writer’s block

What I found helped get over this was knowing I didn’t have to necessarily like what I wrote, just that I had to meet 1000 words by the end of the week, so I’d always sit down for a proper writing session every Monday morning - if I couldn’t get over a mental block, I had plenty of time to set it aside and come back another day before the deadline came up. Usually, however, I’d complete it all in one sitting, which was another really motivating thing. I could then spend the rest of the week doing other things so I wouldn’t get burnt out on writing or worrying about not being productive enough

One downside I did encounter was that, once I’d complete the goal for the week, I’d not want to go back to it until the next week rolled around - it almost felt like it wasn’t worth starting a new writing session if it wouldn’t contribute to the goal. That’s something I’d like to counter in future by coming up with further incentives for additional writing sessions or going over the goal

Goal 2: Have a draft of 90K+ words by the end of the year ✅

I chose 90K as my desired word count because fantasy novels usually have a 90K word count on the low end, so it seemed sensible to aim for that. I started the year with around 45K words - meaning my goal was for an additional 45K and therefore very much achievable in 52 weeks - and now I’m ending it on 110K, making for a difference of around 65,000 words

I think it was around September that I reached 90K, and I was so excited about it; I’d already completed one of my goals and it wasn’t even close to the deadline. But there was something strange going on at this point in time; I’d reached one of my word count goals, but I wasn’t even close to finishing the story yet. Even now I can’t say that I’m even quite in the end game yet. I ended up writing a lot more than I planned - and that’s okay, because it’s only a first draft right now, and because of that I want to focus more on quantity than quality

I think having this goal was really motivating while it was in effect, because seeing myself getting closer and closer to that seemingly unattainable number was exciting and made me feel really proud of myself. I think reaching that goal a lot sooner than I planned taught me a lot about how I’m more capable than I previously thought, and that I should give myself more credit and trust myself to overcome more daunting challenges. This goal gave me a lot more confidence in my process

Goal 3: Finish the first draft by the end of the year ❌

This was the only goal that I wasn’t able to complete; I’m still a good few chapters away from finishing the draft

I think what influenced this the most was my pacing; as time went on and I began to write more for quantity than quality, and new plots and subplots were hitting different beats, the pacing began to fluctuate and I became more heavy on the description. I also wanted to ensure I added plenty of downtime for the characters to break apart the constant calamity and busywork and, well, they have a lot of walking to do as they travel, so it was easy to throw in around the main plot

I’m not disappointed about failing this goal because it means that I’ve taken the time to put real effort into my work rather than rushing it to meet some deadline, as well as given myself a lot to work with when editing and improving. Unlike with the 90K goal, I’d much rather fail to meet the deadline than succeed with months to spare. I’ve still gotten significantly far in this time, and I’m proud of myself for putting in so much effort, and I think having additional goals beyond just ‘finish everything by X time’ helps with that; I can still see how far I’ve come and how much I’ve accomplished via the other goals that encourage me to take my time

I still absolutely want to complete the draft, and coming as far as I have is further motivation to get it done. There’s something really special about working so hard for so long on something but still finding that joy and excitement to continue rather than burnout, and it’s not something I’m all that used to experiencing. By now I’ve usually grown tired of a project and left it, but I’m still going strong with this one and I’m still incredibly passionate about it. And I think that having this goal only to not quite meet it is helping me to appreciate this; I’m not upset about it, but actually looking forward to having further opportunities to continue. I really should stop calling it ‘failing’, since I count this as an overall win even if I didn’t make the deadline

What I’ve learned

I think persevering with these goals in mind all year has been very eye-opening for me as to how I like to progress with my writing; I can be consistent, I can get more done than I think, I can be excited about a project even after a whole year of ‘making myself’ write. These goals have boosted my confidence not only in my abilities to write, but as a writer

I love my story and my characters, and coming back to them so often and so frequently has been a blessing in getting to know them and reaffirming just how wonderful the writing process is. When I love what I’m writing, I can churn out a lot at once, and that didn’t impact my ability to come back and keep writing more, though I thought it would. I was also consistently getting a sense of accomplishment from meeting my weekly word counts, updating my word count every chapter, etc, which made the process feel rewarding and something I could take pride in. It felt big and productive, but the process stayed just as simple as always, even if it wasn’t always as easy

Based on everything, one thing I want to improve upon in future is ensuring that I continue to write even when it won’t contribute to a weekly word count. Setting additional goals or otherwise incentivising additional writing sessions is something I want to experiment with with any future attempts at these goals

[itsscromp]

New Year’s resolution’s

A bit of a sort of sequel to my Christmas one that I did here, something to start 2024 in the right direction, thank you all so much for supporting my stories thought 2023 and leaving your amazing requests with me. I had a blast to write them for you. So without further ado, happy new year everyone, let’s kick off 2024 shall we ?? Word count:935

Spending Christmas with Alex was easily the best decision you have ever made. You two would spent the whole time playing video games and at one point building a snowman. But then new year's eve quickly came along. Alex decided to throw a small party with a few of his former CIA buddies.

Sure it was fun and all, but New Year's was a bit of an iffy thing for you, Since joining 141 and helping Alex and Farah, you came to learn that it was a little pointless to try to be happy about ringing in a new year. The same global tensions and pointless wars. All the same shit you come to expect every year.

You were sitting by the dining table watching on as Alex and his friend broke out the karaoke machine and began to belt out a song so damn badly, of course, you began recording it. Oh Farah was gonna laugh her ass off seeing this video.

But then one of his friends sat next to you and began to try and have a conversation with you. "You make any New Year's resolutions ??" He asked.

"Nah, don't believe in that. No one keeps them"

"Whaaaaatttt ?? Of course, they do, 2 years ago I made a resolution to get back into shape and look at me, I'm as happy as ever" he said while he also flexed his bicep.

"Good for you I guess..." You didn't want to come off as rude, But again New Year's just wasn't your thing. He continued on about New Year's resolutions and how it's always the best thing ever to start the year fresh. It was really making you tense up a bit.

"But I mean come on, Surely they can't keep they're resolutions right ??"

"Yeah... Sorry, just gonna go outside for a little bit" You excused yourself and grabbed your coat, zipping outside as you then breathed in the cool winter air and took a sip of your beer.

He was a little confused as to why you decided to go out like that, Turning to Alex as he then sat down after singing his heart out. "Hey Alex, is your friend ok ??"

"Why, What's wrong ??" He asked.

"I was just having a conversation with them and they seemed to be a little bit bummed out for some reason"

"Did you say anything..." Protective bestie activate

"No no, I was just talking about New Year's and such"

Alex grew a little confused when he said that, why were you feeling sad on New Year's. "Where are they ??"

"They ducked outside"

Alex nodded, grabbing his coat as well and going outside to find you. His hands in his pockets as he approached you.

"Hey... Is something bugging you ??" He gently asked.

You tried to brush it off initially "Just... not really a party type person" You nervously chuckled.

"Hey... It's ok, I promise" He gently placed an arm around your shoulder and gently squeezed it. "I'm all ear's pal" He softly smiled.

You took a deep breath, trying to find the right words for what you were about to say.

"I... I hate New Year's"

Alex tilted his head in confusion and frowned slightly. "Why do you hate New Year's ??"

You looked out into the open "Every time I hope for something different when a new year arrives, It's always either the same shit or a new problem that we have to fucking solve" You gripped the wood panel lightly. "I just... I really want it to be different"

Alex nodded as he looked out. "I get that, I really do, Sometimes I wish for the same... But can't be helped sometimes. And plus I never liked those New Year's resolutions either, cause no one end's up keeping them"

"Your friend seemed happy about it..."

"Eh, He's a showboat sometimes" He chuckled. "It's... easier to just.. celebrate another year Y'know ?? Especially for us, we made it" He squeezed your shoulder again.

"Yeah..." You nodded as you looked up at him.

"It's a miracle we're all together, no matter what happens" He smiled.

You soon began to smile as well "Yeah... Thank you, Alex"

He nodded his head "Here, how about our own little celebration" He went back inside and grabbed a couple of beers plus a bottle opener, coming back outside and opening his and your bottles. "It's early, but just for us" He handed you your bottle.

You smiled as you grabbed it and took a swig from it.

"This year... To the friends we made and the missions we had, And next year to those same friends and family."

"Yeah... I like that" You nodded smiling

"Whatever next year brings, We've got a team" He raised his bottle.

"Yeah, we do" You clinked his bottle and soon wrapped your arm around him. "You're my ride or die, you know that ??"

He playfully ruffles your hair "Till the rider's die pal"

This wasn't going to change, no matter what the new year brings, you would have Alex by your side always. No matter what. Soon the two heard loud mumbling inside, they were about to go in when they heard fireworks nearby. Even getting a good glimpse at them It was midnight... The new year has begun. Both of you stayed outside and watched the fireworks go off, relishing each other's company.

"Happy new year Alex"

"Happy new year y/n" He wrapped his arm around you again.

This was all you needed, you and Alex. You knew he'd be at your side, Always.

Taglist: @callofdudes @fun-k-board

[hgejfmw-hgejhsf]

Fic Writer Interview

So I decided to snag this from @sparklepocalypse and fill it out because I'm cozy on my couch on New Year's Eve and fighting off a nap like a grumpy toddler. I'm actually fairly certain I've done this one before, now that I think about it, but oh well. The numbers are different since last time, so...

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

60, apparently! 61 being posted later today!

2. What’s your total AO3 word count? 

178,579

3. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Ghosts

Do we still have forever

Volume Control

Retaliation

Modification to the map of you

4. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

I respond to each and every comment that I receive. I try very hard to leave a personalized message for each person, but no matter what, even if it's just a "thank you," I will always respond! Even if it takes me some time!

5. What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending?

To this day, the angstiest ending is Darkest before the dawn, which ends with hope, even if it doesn't end with an actual resolution. It's during canon, so the reader know what happens next.

6. What’s the fic you’ve written with the happiest ending?

I think my most recent Christmas fic, Oh what a laugh it would have been, has probably now overtaken one of my previous fics for overall happiest ending!

7. Do you write crossovers?

I haven't yet, but I'm absolutely open to it given the write parameters!

8. Have you ever received hate on a fic?

I haven't yet, and I hope I never do, although I know that the internet can be a wild place.

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

If you'd asked me back in July of this year, I would have said that I primarily write fade to black. Since then, I've written ridiculous amounts of smut. I'm still learning about various kinks I'd like to write about, because I don't want to just write without knowledge of the act itself, but I'm wading into the smut-verse now. I'd say the water's up to my knees, at this point. Got a ways to go.

10. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I'm aware of.

11. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Nope, not that I've been made aware of, but I think it would be so neat.

12. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

I haven't but catch me and @thinkof-england cowriting something amazing now that the new year has arrived.

13. What’s your all-time favorite ship?

Y'all are gonna need to sit down for this. I don't think you're ready. Deep breath in. Hold it. Now let it out slowly. Calm your mind. Are you ready? Okay because I know this is going to come as a shock to you when I say that it's FirstPrince.

14. What’s a WIP that you want to finish but don’t think you ever will?

A Star Trek fic with Jim Kirk x an OC. I started it back in the spring and then RWRB happened and now it's just languishing away in my docs at just shy of 18,000 words.

15. What are your writing strengths?

I've been told that I have realistic dialogue, so I'll count that as a strength. I also think I'm pretty skilled at metaphors. Love a good metaphor.

16. What are your writing weaknesses?

The description of surroundings, including clothing and scenery. I feel like I don't do enough of this sometimes, and I'm trying to better at painting a proper picture.

17. What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

I've done so! Lots and lots of research and consultation with native speakers to confirm accuracy.

18. What was the first fandom you wrote for?

Pirates of the Caribbean, apparently.

19. What’s a fandom/ship you haven’t written for yet but want to?

There isn't really one out there. I'm super content with the permanent campsite I've built in FP land. Hopefully I'm allowed to hang out there for quite some time.

20. What’s your favorite fic you’ve written?

How am I supposed to pick a favorite out over 60 fics?!

I suppose if I absolutely HAD to pick right now, right this second, I'd say Ghosts, because the prompt for it as my first ever reader-submitted prompt on a comment from another fic. The reader enjoyed my fic so much that they asked if I'd write another, and Ghosts it what came of that interaction. I loved writing it and sharing it not just with that reader but with the fandom as a whole.

Gonna post my tag list for anyone who wants to participate!

@adreamareads @affectionatelyrs @anincompletelist @cha-melodius @clottedcreamfudge @cricketnationrise @daisymae-12 @duchessdepolignaca03 @gayrootvegetable @getmehighonmagic @happiness-of-the-pursuit @heybuddy-drabbles @indomitable-love @indestructibleheart @inexplicablymine @kiwiana-writes @leaves-of-laurelin @leojfitz @littlemisskittentoes @lizzie-bennetdarcy @magicandarchery @ninzied @priincebutt @read-and-write- @rockyroadkylers @roseharpermaxwell@ships-to-sail @songliili @ssmtskw @statueinthestonetoo @stereopticons @suseagull04 @thinkof-england @tintagel-or-cockleshells@user-anakin @vanillahigh00 @violetbaudelaire-quagmire @whimsymanaged @wordsofhoneydew 

[dnfao3tags]

Monthly Fic Roundup - March 2023

hellooooo :]

if you liked the fic, dont forget to kudos and leave a comment (no matter how small) !

— Do Androids Dream of Poetry? by ABirdWithoutFeathers (teen | comp. | 3k)

> Happy birthday!! Who are you? > My name is George! it is so, so nice to finally meet you. What is a birthday? > It’s the anniversary of the day you come into existence, when you start being. Today is your very first day in the world. Oh. Well, what do I do now?

— like slush & kissing by findingahome (teen | comp. | 2k)

Dream eats all of the frozen mangos; chaos ensues.

— kiss me like your fantasy by astroscythe (teen | comp. | 3k)

George asks Dream to help him practice kissing, and Dream is too (jealous) nice to say 'no.'

— purple (you've had too much) by crabnap (expl. | comp. | 8k)

Dream learns something new about George after a night of drinking. He can’t get it out of his head.

— i'll take what i can get by demonstars (mature | comp. | 20k)

George going insane, in full resolution.

— all of you, a verb in perfect view by findingahome (mature | wip | 11k+)

despite being soulmates, they do nothing about it (well, okay, maybe not nothing).

— infinitely ordinary by twostorms (teen | comp. | 5k)

3 times George and Dream's secret relationship isn't much of a secret—and the one time that it is.

— karma is a cat purring in my lap by jack_not_found (gen | comp. | 2k)

Patches misses George while he's away.

— from the outside by nervouswaltz (gen | comp. | 3k)

Tina and George find some common ground in the stupidity of boys.

— one way ticket by dizzy (expl. | comp. | 60k)

George's family tells him he has to either get a job or go back to school... so in May of 2019 he applies to university in Florida and shows up on Dream's doorstep. Neither of them are really expecting Dream's youtube channel to blow up just after George moves in.

— invisible string by womanhunt (mature | comp. | 4k)

The sight is one that leaves him lightheaded. George is in his chain, and the way it looks sitting against his neck is breathtaking. “Now we match.” George seems elated at the idea, reaching out to squeeze Dream’s thigh as he says it. “Well, I mean,” Dream responds, unable to tear his eyes away from the chain. “Not really. They’re not, like, exactly the same.” “We match, Dream.” George emphasizes, reaching up to hold the chain around his own neck between his fingers.

— Cartwheel by ivegivenuponyou (expl. | comp. | 5k)

George gets too drunk and can't help but let everything fall apart.

— you'd be glad to say you know me (satisfaction guaranteed) by lovestruckdaggers (teen | comp. | 7k)

george is head over heels for the witty morning announcer in his school, dream. he also despises clay, the guy who keeps stealing his seat in compsci. shenanigans ensue.

— covid fics by tippysleeps (series | 4 works | teen, mature, expl. x 2 | 6k)

fics written when diseased. quality may vary.

— The Indiscriminate Indulgence of Morning Affection by lasciviess (expl. | comp. | 8k)

People can only withstand so much before they eventually give in, and that's exactly what Dream and George are: run-of-the-mill people who also happen to have been painfully infatuated with each other for somewhere between two and five years. The night that they finally break, it's like every single thing falls into place between them and the world finally snaps to its axis. Despite the fact that so many questions and uncertainties still remain when George wakes up the next morning, he knows that everything will eventually be alright as he watches Dream sleep the minutes away. What he doesn't know is exactly how much the stolen clothing he wears will affect Dream the moment he wakes up, and exactly how the man he just admitted to loving will choose to deal with it.

— out of focus by lodestones (gen | comp. | 3k)

The first time Hannah suspects that there’s something between Dream and George, she convinces herself she’s just reading into things.

— in the place of you & me by Orlaith (expl. | wip | 4k+)

Dream and George dated in 2019, but George, insecure and a world away, ended things. Now it's 2022, George is moving to Florida, and neither of them ever really stopped loving the other.

— every doorway and doorframe by wooowriter (mature | comp. | 36k)

in the interim of waiting to be with Dream, George starts sleeping with Wilbur.

— tonight i'll sleep with the dream of you by charoo (gen | comp. | 3k)

five times george fell in love with dream in person and the one time he realized dream had fallen in love with him.

— show me all your rings by preytall (expl. | comp. | 1k)

"Why're you looking at me like that?" Dream almost doesn't hear the words for the shape of his mouth as it forms them, and his response is reflexive, buying time: "Like what?" A laugh, some of its punch undercut by his panting, because Dream is still stroking him. "Like I've got something on my face." "You do." He could play it off but opts to play into it, instead. "You have two eyes... a nose... a mouth..." It's lame and obvious; George smiles, anyway, and shakes his head slightly. "Which one, Dream?" "Your mouth," Dream admits.

— the thought of it’s enough by mieldoux (expl. | comp. | 15k)

Dream and George haven’t had sex, but they’ve toed the line a few times.

[dreaminginthedeepsouth]

by David Hume Kennerly

* * *

PLEASE DON’T THANK ME FOR MY SERVICE THIS VETERAN’S DAY

NOV 11, 2023

Please don't thank me for my "service." I was in the military, not the "Service." Service is doing something good. Service is what the person does who fixes your car. When the word "service" is applied to the military, it helps to justify violence as a method for conflict resolution. Like "defending our freedom," or "bringing democracy," the word "service" is used to lower the barriers of aggression. The military solution to conflict is death and destruction. That's not "service." Call it what it is - the military. If you have to hurt someone to solve a problem, you are the Problem. -- Arnold Stieber, US Army Veteran, 1970

I have absolutely no problem understanding exactly what Mr. Stieber wrote above, “back in the day,” with the white-hot heat of youth and the thorough pissed-offness of someone who had seen the side of life nobody ever wants to see. It’s the attitude I came home with from that same war, five years before he did.

I’ve never really gotten used to the new tradition of the past 30 years, for civilians - on discovering they are in the presence of someone who served in the military, - to say “Thank you for your service.” I have very mixed emotions about that. On the one hand, it’s nice that maybe a fourth of them have a clue why they’re saying what they are, that it isn’t merely the mouthing of polite words. On the other hand, I’m not sure why anyone would want to thank someone who served in the war I served in, or the ones that followed.

The war in Vietnam made everything in America worse. For just one thing, it harmed the economy when the government adopted a policy of both “guns” and “butter,” which led to the severe inflation of the 1970s, which gave companies looking for any way to reduce costs to start taking a hard line on employee compensation, which leaves us in the condition where the average American working stiff now makes less in terms of buying power than they did 50 years ago, I don’t know about you, but I’m not up to thanking anyone for that.

Of course, thinking further on this leads one to the obvious conclusion that it wasn’t the kids who got drafted who did any of that. They weren’t sitting in the halls of government thinking about how to distract the citizenry from the fact that this particular imperial war was going bad in all ways, and coming up with the idea of keeping taxes down in a period of increased government spending for things that go “BOOM!” while making sure they could get that new car every three years like they always did. Those decisions are the ones that led to the situation I mentioned above. Made by guys who mostly never got shot at, even in the war they did serve in.

In my experience during my time in the Navy and the years after knowing other vets and working with them, there were very few of us who “wanted” to go to war. Most of my fellow sailors were in the Navy because they figured joining the Navy and getting trained for a good job and “seeing the world” beat the daylights out of being in the Army, so much so it was worth a couple extra years over the two years a draftee served. Ditto the Air Force. Even the Marines were forced to start taking draftees after 1966, when they ran low on guys who believed what John Wayne told them in “Sands of Iwo Jima.”

As close as anyone got to “wanting” to go was when those of us who had joined before the war received the first orders sending us to the war. As my friend Phil Caputo wrote in “A Rumor of War” (a “Vietnam book” you should read), when he learned he and his fellow Marines were headed to DaNang in South Vietnam in 1965, “I thought to myself that when it was over and I went home, I’d be able to look my Tarawa-veteran father in the eye.” I know many others - including me, son of the guy who survived the Kamikazes - the sons of the “greatest generation” who had grown up with all the stories about our father’s “good war,” who “played war” with the cast-off gear from that war, who had similar thoughts.

Vietnam was the last war fought with draftees, and you can bet your bottom dollar today’s leaders will never go back to that system. The draft made everyone think about the war, whether they had to worry about getting drafted out of whatever working class job they had (or didn’t have); even the kids with student deferments had to think about the war when they didn’t work hard enough to keep their grades up and maintain their 2-S status. Mothers and fathers and aunts and uncles and brothers and sisters and friends all had to worry about someone they knew and loved going off to that war. Whether they “supported the president” or came to understand that the war wasn’t worth the loss of that life they knew and loved, they came in the middle of the night to hate the war. And eventually that made itself known in politics. The makers of war became constrained in the war they could make by the lack of support from those who gave them their jobs with their votes.

I’ll tell you something. After I came back, I did all I could to end that draft. But I would be very happy to see it brought back today.

No deferments. The sons and daughters of the rich serve right alongside the sons and daughters of the poor - like they did in World War II. It’ll make the entitled little shits into something better. And it really does unify - it’s hard to hate people you know by name.

But mostly I’m in favor of that because it makes it almost impossible for “They” to decide to fight a 20 year war in Afghanistan, or Iraq. They can’t do it because too many people will be paying attention. And getting pissed off at them. And voting.

But no, for exactly the reasons I am for the draft, the “all-volunteer” army is here to stay. You can’t fight 20-year wars in hellholes nobody knows without it. That way, only about 1-2 percent of the population ever has to think about the war - the kids who join up because they don’t have a future that looks better than what the military offers, their families, their friends - not a big enough group that if they got upset they could muster any political changes, unlike all those folks 50 years ago.

Most of all, if you’re going to thank me or any of us for our service, don’t try to honor us as “heroes.” For one thing, most of us aren’t, and for another, if you haven’t been in the military you really have no idea what being a hero in that context actually is.

It’s not what you think it is.

An old Navy Chief once explained “being a hero” to me: “When you’re so terrified that your brain is so frozen you can’t think, and you’ve pissed your pants and shit your drawers, and you just know you’re going to die, and you still do your job - THAT is being a hero.”

Not the definition too many in our society nowadays want to hear.

“But, Tom,” you say, “don’t you write all these best-selling books about wars and heroes? You must really love war to think about it so much.”

If you have gotten anything even remotely like that from reading any of my books, you really need to reconsider that decision not to take that remedial course in reading comprehension.

Yes, I do honor those out there in the mud and the blood and the ooze. And I appreciate knowing the ones who were out there in the mud and the blood and the ooze and survived to come back to the world of the living. That’s because their willingness to do that has a lot to do with why there is that world of the living to come back to.

Or at least that’s true in the World War II books. That’s the last war that could be divided into the Good Guys and the Bad Guys.

Except it kind of can’t. I’ve known too many guys who served on “the other side” who are just as nice - if not nicer - than anyone I have met from “the good side.”

In fact some of them must be better than anyone who served on this side. That’s a small list. But every guy who served in Vietnam and then had the opportunity to later meet the people they were trying to kill at the time, has met people who have been willing to forgive them for My Lai and Agent Orange and Rolling Thunder and all the rest of it, and offer friendship. And the ones on that side who I have been privileged to meet are definitely honorable men.

A late friend of mine who was a leading ace in “the good war” once told me when we were at a convention of those guys and the honored guests at the event were the guys who they’d been out to kill: “The secret nobody knows is, we always thought the guys we were fighting were the only ones who knew what we were going through. We actually thought we were closer to them than to the other people who were on our side.” I’ve heard similar sentiments from former infantrymen as well as former fliers, so it’s not some “guild of the elite” or “honorable brotherhood.”

Although it probably is an “honorable brotherhood.” The brotherhood of people who were willing to do what it took to defend what they loved - and believe it or not that even applies to the Germans; most of them knew as much about the “larger issues” going on, the terrible things, as any young guy in the US military did in the war I fought. And when they did find out, they were shocked too. The people who did the terrible things tried to keep them secret from everyone else, because they knew they were doing terrible things.

My friend Jim Wright, who’s become well-known in social media in recent years for some straight-shooting talk from a retired Chief Warrant Officer, wrote:

“Mostly we veterans are just people who came when called and did our best under terrible circumstances.”

I’ll end with a quote from a guy who did know what it took to do all that stuff:

“Every gun that is made, every warship launched, every rocket fired signifies in the final sense, a theft from those who hunger and are not fed, those who are cold and are not clothed. This world in arms is not spending money alone. It is spending the sweat of its laborers, the genius of its scientists, the hopes of its children. This is not a way of life at all in any true sense. Under the clouds of war, it is humanity hanging on a cross of iron.”

― Dwight D. Eisenhower, Soldier, General, President

[TCinLa :: Thats Another Fine Mess]