#now see this one i simply have to learn now

[jungwnies]

roommate from hell - oscar piastri (5/5)

୨ৎ : pairing : oscar piastri x gn!reader ୨ৎ : synopsis : forced into an accidental roommate situation, oscar and you struggle with clashing habits, sarcastic banter, and unexpected tension…until frustration turns into something much deeper.

୨ৎ : genre : romantic comedy & light angst (barely...) ୨ৎ : tws : forced proximity, mild conflict, emotional tension, and mutual pining. ୨ৎ : wc : 1209

part one | part two | part three | part four | part five

The envelope sat untouched on the counter for a full week.

Neither of you brought it up. Neither of you made a move to start packing, to start looking for other places, to start doing anything that would acknowledge the inevitable reality—that this arrangement was temporary, and that the lease was never meant to be anything more than a situation you both got stuck with.

But then one morning, Oscar finally cracked.

"So, are we just going to pretend the deposit letter doesn’t exist forever?"

You looked up from your coffee, raising an eyebrow. "I thought that was the plan."

Oscar sighed, leaning against the counter. "I mean, I wouldn’t mind pretending if I knew what exactly we’re pretending for."

You frowned, stirring your drink a little too aggressively. "What’s that supposed to mean?"

"It means," he said, crossing his arms, "that you haven’t made a move to leave. And neither have I. And yet, neither of us is saying anything about it."

You stared at him.

"So," he continued, gaze flickering to yours, "are we both just avoiding the conversation because we like the convenience? Or is it… something else?"

Something twisted in your stomach at his words.

There it was. Laid out in the open, right between you.

You had spent weeks pretending it wasn’t there, pretending that the shift between you two was just the natural result of learning how to tolerate each other, of becoming… well, not enemies. Not exactly friends, either.

Something else.

You scoffed, trying to play it cool. "Why are you making this sound like some kind of dramatic breakup?"

Oscar rolled his eyes. "I’m not."

"You kind of are."

"I just want to know if you actually want to leave," he said, tilting his head slightly.

You hesitated for just a second too long.

"Thought so," Oscar muttered, looking way too smug.

You glared. "What’s that supposed to mean?"

He shrugged. "It means you don’t want to leave."

"I never said that."

"You didn’t have to," he said simply, taking a sip of his water. "If you really wanted to, you would’ve been gone by now."

You scowled. "Okay, maybe I just don’t want to deal with moving again."

"Maybe," Oscar said, unconvinced.

"Or maybe it’s just easier to stay."

"Maybe."

The way he said it—calm, easy, knowing—made your skin heat.

You set your cup down, arms crossed. "Why haven’t you left?"

Oscar shrugged again. "I don’t know. It’s kind of nice having someone around. Even if that someone chews too loudly and leaves the thermostat two degrees too high."

You rolled your eyes, ignoring the way your chest tightened. "You’re annoying."

"And yet, here we are."

You sighed, running a hand through your hair. "Fine. What are you suggesting, then?"

Oscar’s gaze didn’t waver. "Stay."

It was just one word, but it sent something warm spreading through your chest.

You pretended to think about it, even though you already knew the answer.

"I’ll think about it," you said finally, just to see how he’d react.

Oscar smirked. "Take your time."

—

You thought about it.

You thought about it that night, while you sat next to Oscar on the couch, watching some stupid show you both pretended not to be invested in. You thought about it when he absentmindedly passed you a blanket without you asking, when your shoulder brushed against his and neither of you moved away.

You thought about it when you caught yourself laughing at something he said, realizing how easy it felt to be around him now.

You thought about it when he stared a little too long, when you saw him hesitate like he had something to say but never quite found the words.

You thought about it until you couldn’t not think about it anymore.

—

The next morning, you walked into the kitchen, grabbed the deposit envelope, and handed it to Oscar.

His brows furrowed slightly as he took it from you. "What’s this?"

You exhaled, leaning against the counter.

"Give it to Greg," you said, your voice even. "I think I want to stay."

Oscar blinked, clearly caught off guard, but his expression remained unreadable. "Yeah?"

"Yeah."

His fingers tapped against the envelope, gaze lingering on you for a second longer than necessary. Then, ever so slightly, the corner of his lips lifted.

"Good," he said.

You rolled your eyes, snatching your coffee and walking away. "Don’t make it weird, Piastri."

Oscar smirked, shaking his head as he watched you go.

Something about the way you said I think I want to stay made him wonder if you were talking about more than just the lease.

And, judging by the way you hesitated at the door before glancing back at him—your expression unreadable, your lips parted like you were about to say something else but thought better of it—maybe you were wondering the same thing.

Later that night, Oscar knocked on your door.

"Hey," he said, his voice a little quieter than usual.

You looked up from your phone. "What’s up?"

Oscar hesitated for a second. "So… we’re staying here. Together."

You raised an eyebrow. "Yeah, I think we established that."

He exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck. "Okay, well, if we’re going to be roommates for real this time, then I should probably ask—"

You waited, watching the way he shifted slightly, his usual composure faltering for just a second.

"Would you want to—" he paused, clearing his throat, "—go out sometime?"

You blinked, caught off guard.

"Like, outside the apartment?" you asked, voice teasing but your pulse suddenly racing.

Oscar rolled his eyes. "Yes, obviously outside the apartment."

You tilted your head. "Are you asking me on a date?"

He shrugged, but there was a smirk playing on his lips. "Call it what you want."

You pretended to think about it, just for a second, just long enough for him to shift again—like he was waiting for an answer he already knew.

"Sure, Piastri," you finally said. "Let’s see if you’re as tolerable outside of this apartment as you are inside it."

Oscar huffed a quiet laugh, nodding. "Guess we’ll find out."

— 1 year later

You had expected something to go wrong.

That somehow, you and Oscar wouldn’t work—that the relationship would feel like a mistake, that it would mess up whatever dynamic you had built.

But, somehow, it had worked out.

You still lived together. Except now, Oscar kissed you when he left for races, when he came home tired from a long day, when he had no other excuse but the simple fact that he wanted to.

Now, he didn’t just tolerate your habits—he adjusted to them. He let you steal his hoodies, he let you take over the bathroom, he let you mess with the thermostat sometimes.

And in return, you learned that you actually liked mornings when he was there to make you coffee.

Some things hadn’t changed.

You still bickered. You still made fun of him. You still drove each other insane.

But now, it always ended with him pulling you into his arms, his lips ghosting over yours as he muttered, "You’re still annoying, you know that?"

And now, you didn’t argue when you whispered back, "Yeah, but you love me anyway."

taglist : @sugarfreerbr , @no-144444 , @window-to-nothing , @judelina , @littlegrapejuice , @formulaal , @spikershoyo , @eclipsedcherry , @whispersofthewild , @1-queenofpotatoes-1 , @obxstiles , @poppysrin , @a-beaverhausen , @blakebearsblog , @fastandcurious16 , @imdyinghelpplease , @reginalaufeyson-holmes , @percy-jackson-fan909 , @bavo-delta-eccho , @chloes-book-corner , @edgyficuselastica , @wierdflowerpower , @briefkittenearthquake , @saachiep81 , @takimakiiiii | (comment to be added ... bolded couldn't be tagged)

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[fireinmoonshot]

Pairing: Joaquín Torres x Reader Summary: Joaquín notices everything – even when you get a small hair cut. Warnings: It's mentioned that reader has hair long enough to braid. Word Count: 838 A/N: Just another smaller drabble tonight – inspired by me getting my hair cut this week (and dyed, but I figured it was a little too specific to have the reader dye their hair blue like mine) 😅 This was so sweet to write though, so please enjoy 💗

Over the course of your relationship with Joaquin, you’ve heard many stories from your friends about how their boyfriends never notice when they get their hair done or get a hair cut. You, on the other hand, happen to be dating one of the most observant men on the planet. 

It’s no secret that Joaquin is easily distracted. If it were anyone else, Joaquin wouldn’t even blink twice. He remembers one time that he worked alongside someone for a whole month before noticing that they’d shaved their head. But with you it’s different. With you, he notices everything – even the smallest things.

Which is why, when you come home from the hair salon with a small trim, Joaquin notices. You hadn’t had time to tell him when you’d rushed out of the house earlier that day – you’d overslept and had been rushing to make it there on time. Joaquin had still been fast asleep and had woken up to a text from you saying you had an appointment and you’d be back a little later.

He’s sitting on the couch playing a video game when you walk in the front door. The second he hears your keys in the front door he presses pause and stands up so he can greet you. It’s the first time he’s seen you all day and he’s missed you. 

“Ah, mi corazón, you’re home,” he hums, walking over to pull you into a hug. He’s two steps away from you when he notices your hair. He reaches out, touching the ends of it. “You got your hair cut?”

You look at him, a little surprised. “I only got a trim, baby. How could you even tell?”

Joaquin shrugs a shoulder. “I don’t know, I could just see that it was shorter.” He wraps his arms around you, then, pulling you into his chest in a hug like he’d planned on doing before he’d noticed your haircut. “I’m a very observant guy. It looks good.”

You smile into his chest. “That, you are, and thank you. Were you playing a game?” You could see the paused screen on the TV as you walked into the room. Joaquin is probably one of the only men alive who would willingly pause their video game to hug their partner to welcome them home after being apart for a couple of hours. You have never once had to beg Joaquin to turn off his games or pull him away from the screen to get him to do things around the house.

“I was, yeah,” Joaquin nods, pulling away from the hug. “You wanna come and watch me play for a bit? Or I can turn on a movie or the next episode of our show.” Joaquin is probably also one of the only boyfriends who never watches the show that you watch together when he’s alone. It’s your thing as a couple, even if he gets invested and gets annoyed that he has to wait for the next episode until you both have free time.

You wrap an arm around his waist. “Can we watch a movie?” 

Joaquin agrees, leading you over to the couch and sitting down beside you. You curl up against his side, draping an arm across his chest and resting your head on his shoulder as he turns off the game and opens up Netflix to find something to watch. With his free hand that isn’t holding the TV remote, he reaches up and starts to play with your hair. He twists some of it around his fingers, then just runs his fingers through it a few times. 

“What are you doing?” You ask, a little confused. Joaquin is not the type of person to keep his hands to himself, but he’s never been known to play with your hair before. Not in situations like this, anyway.

He glances over at you. “Your hair is at the perfect length now for me to play with it when we’re sitting like this,” he says simply. “Also, I was thinking – maybe I should learn to braid. I could help you do your hair sometimes when we go out, and if we have kids it means you won’t have to do their hair all the time and I can be the cool dad who braids his kids hair.”

You don’t think it’s actually possible for you to love Joaquin more than you already do. 

“You wanna learn how to braid?”

“Yeah,” he shrugs a shoulder – the one you’re not leaning on. “I’ve actually already been watching some Youtube videos on it but it’s hard to learn when I don’t have someone to practice on.”

You sit up, taking Joaquin off guard. He looks at you, a little concerned. “We’re gonna watch a movie another night, baby,” you decide, turning around so your back is to him. “Tonight, you’re gonna practice braiding hair.” 

Joaquin is suddenly excited. He sits up a little straighter, eyes wide. “Wait, really?”

“Yes, really,” you chuckle. “Show me what you’ve been learning.”

[davinawritings]

An Alien Thank You

Pairing: Alien X Female Human Reader

Warnings: Smut, Oral (Female Receiving), Multiple Tongues, Squirting

You had never thought aliens were real until one appeared in your backyard. When it happened, you had only been in your new home for about a month. As a writer, you had moved to a small, secluded house in the countryside for some peace and quiet while working. Other than the bi-monthly trips to the food market, you were completely alone with your work and thoughts.

The day had started like any other. You had made breakfast, showered, and even got in a few hours of writing. Suddenly, there was a noise outside your office window. Upon looking, you had seen nothing and waved it off, but moments later, you heard it again. No longer able to ignore it, you had gone out back to see what it was. 

Imagine your shock when a massive creature stood in your backyard, poking around your garden. The creature stood about eleven feet tall and was a dark blue, almost black. Its chest was broad, double the length of your shoulders, and seemed packed with hard muscle. Its shoulders had sharp ridges that nearly looked like thick scales. Its thick thighs had similar ridged scales along the outside. Strong arms lead down to large hands that look terrifying with their sharp nails. The creature’s head was all sharp angles, and its eyes were solid black as they stared at you. 

The scream had been stuck in your throat, but the creature must have seen the panic on your face because it quickly held up its hands and claimed that it meant no harm. You still kept your distance as the creature explained that he was not of your planet but was currently stuck on earth while working out how to build a way home.

You had taken pity on the creature and, against what most would consider better judgment, had decided not to freak out and instead befriend the large creature. You learned his name was Oltuth, and he came from a planet you had never heard of. He was traveling and exploring when his ship malfunctioned and crashed a few miles from your secluded home. Your house was the first place he had come upon that wasn’t just open land, so he had been looking for sustenance in your garden.

You knew you probably shouldn’t invite some strange alien creature into your home, but you felt bad for him, and you couldn’t deny that it was kind of nice to have someone to talk to. You also knew that most people would probably just attack Oltuth without hesitation if they found him, so you offered him refuge in your home under the promise of him being peaceful and kind. He quickly promised, and you were very glad he did.

He became a great help around your house and an even better friend. He helped you around the house and with your now flourishing garden. You both built a routine together while you worked on your book, and he worked on a way to rebuild and repair his ship. The days passed much faster with him to talk to, and before you knew it, months had passed. You both grew closer, and you grew almost sad when you thought about him eventually leaving you to return home. 

Today had gone like any other with Oltuth, and you now sat with a nice cold glass of sweet tea, simply enjoying the late-night sky full of stars while you both talked about the different ways of your species. 

Oltuth clears his throat before he says, “I would like to thank you for the kindness and generosity you have shown me these past few months. If you are okay with it, I would like to show you how the males of my planet thank our females for caring for us the way you have for me”. Excited to learn something new about his species; you quickly agree with an enthusiastic, “Yes.” 

He grabs your smaller hand in his own and brings you inside to the couch. He gently guides you to sit, your butt on the edge of the sofa. Your breath hitches as Oltuth moves his large body between your legs, gently prying your legs open. He kneels before you, gently removing your shorts along with your panties. His long, pointed tongue starts gently lapping at your clit as soft mewls leave your mouth. His jet-black eyes stay trained on your face as you wriggle on the couch. 

His hands grip your thighs tighter as he shifts his tongue into your wet hole. The thickness makes you moan as he licks along your inner walls. You lay back against the cushions, hips thrusting against his face as you slowly feel that beautiful high building. Without warning, you feel something wet, flicking against your swollen clit. Your eyes snap open, and you look down. His large tongue is still buried deep in your cunt, but another slightly smaller tongue is now playing with your needy clit.

You whimper and moan out his name at the double stimulation, tears gathering in your eyes at the overwhelming feeling. The tip of his tongue flicks along that special spot deep inside you, and you try to close your legs on reflex. Oltuth growls and pulls your thighs further apart, speeding up both of his tongues. 

Your knuckles turn white as your grip tightens on the couch. The tongue inside you practically vibrates with how fast it’s thrusting inside your dripping cunt. Your back arches as the smaller tongue moves to match the speed and vibrations of his bigger tongue. 

You look down again to find Oltuth staring right at you, and with one more thrust, you cum hard, clenching on his tongue, your juices squirting out of you as a scream is ripped from your body. Each clench of your cunt is met with another thrust from him, making your orgasm feel like it lasts for hours. He finally slows down as your legs twitch in his hands, giving you a few final licks to clean you up.

He stands before picking you up and bringing you to your room to lay you on the bed. You give him a smile and say, “I really like how your males say thank you, Oltuth.” He gives you a grin before saying, “That was just to get you ready for the real way we say thank you.” Your eyes widen as you look down at his body. A slit at the apex between his thighs opens as three large cocks extend out, one by one, each a little bigger than the last. 

Your eyes flick back up to his face, and all you can think is that your next book is definitely going to be a smutty alien romance story.

❤️💕🖤🖤💕❤️

[andromedicasphyxiate]

Ok we are going to TALK about this honey because I have a LOT to say (Legally Blonde is one of my FAV movies and is 2000's cinematic GOLD, fight me if u dare 😭😭😭)

what's REALLY cool about Elle is that:

1. she straight up just went for what she wanted and she excelled at it

In the beginning of the movie (which is when she is in college) she was simply into beauty and fashion and having fun and being in a sorority and having a great/hot boyfriend, and she made it all happen for herself!! She built her dream body, her dream aesthetic and wardrobe, got a 4.0 GPA in her fashion major (and wouldnt let the high fashion shop girls fool her about fabrics lol (because she really knew her stuff)), was dating the guy of her dreams, AND was super popular in her sorority (because she was so sweet and kind and helpful to everyone too)

2. she didnt give up, she believed in herself, she had a crazy strong work ethic and her priorities were set

In the next part of the movie (kind of still in the beginning), she decided that she wanted to marry her boyfriend, so she did her best to ensure that the proposal would go well (aside from having been a great girlfriend all through college, of course). And although she was down and out when he dumped her, she didn't give up and worked really hard to follow him to freaking *HARVARD*, ok?! Everyone told her it wasn't meant for her, and she couldn't and shouldn't do it, but she had her sights set on it and went for it anyway.

It was very difficult, she had to stop being a fun, party girl and trade in her current likes and life for her future self (which meant books and practice exams, ew 😭😭) but she did it in a heartbeat, and...SHE MADE IT!! 😍😍😍

3. she wasn't afraid to change her priorities and learn from life, and she had a really strong character too

When her loser boyfriend still wouldn't accept her as marriage worthy, although she now fit the bill academically, she didn't hesitate to ditch the idea of being with him and dedicated herself to a more worthy cause--investing in herself, her grades, getting the prestigious internship at Callahan's law firm, and also doing extremely well at it. Also, she didn't give away her client's alibi just to continue being trustworthy, even though she had so much to lose by doing that. And she didn't hesitate to brush Callahan off when she could have taken the opportunity to sleep her way to the top. She wanted her merit to be the cornerstone of her career and not her beauty.

Overall, I love Elle because she was a lovely person who did her best to be kind to everyone, including her ex's fiance. She was super authentic and wasn't afraid to be in her feminine energy and be cute and have fun and just flow with life, but she also wasn't afraid to exert her masculine energies and get in the warzone in her daily life, pull on what she wanted and push back on what she didn't think was right. She just was who she was, and didn't let anybody dictate the outcomes of her life.

And that to me is feminism at its core--the choice to embody any kind of energy you want, anywhere between the traditionally feminine end of the spectrum and the traditionally masculine, and to never forget that your gender doesnt have to play into what your life should look like or whom you should be. And that both masculine and feminine energies, although different, are equal and just as important for individuals and also society at large, to have a happy, successful, well balanced and fulfilling life!!

(also, I've written the last paragraph from the standpoint of moderate traditional gender roles, which is what I happen to believe in; but if that's not your cup of tea I completely understand and respect that xoxo 🩷🩷🩷, so please feel free to skip the last paragraph or adapt it to what you see fit 🥰🥰🥰)

The bimbo feminism girls who love Legally Blonde really missed like the whole point of the movie. The point is that she's not a brainless bimbo. She saves the day with her knowledge of haircare, sure, but she got in the room by going to law school. You cannot reduce that movie down to "Girl knowledge saves the day!" because the perm wouldn't have mattered if she hadn't spent the entire rest of the movie working her ass off in an unrelated field. The feminist angle is that she can have girly interests and also be smart, not that having girly interests is feminist in itself

[cupidkay-666]

“Stuck and Breedable”

Warning: tentacles, cnc, double penetration, breeding, kidnapping, choking, overstimulation, obsession, fixation, etc.

“We’re almost here!!”, you squealed to your friend sitting next to you. Maria. She had been your best friend for years. So when she offered for you to go cave exploring with her, of course you said yes. This year was all about trying new things anyway, you thought to yourself. The vehicle came to a stop on a beautiful beach, to the right you could see the starting point to the two of your adventure. You hopped out of the Jeep, and pulled your hair up into a ponytail. “Are you sure we dressed decently for this activity?”, you asked Maria. You looked down at your breast cupped in a tight bikini top, which followed by your denim shorts and tennis shoes. “Oh it’s not like we are gonna go too far in, we will be fine! Plus if we get too uncomfortable we can always turn back silly!”, Maria said with a grin on her face.

With that being said we made our way to the opening of the cave, rambling on in meaningless conversation to pass the time. Once we got to the entrance Maria turned to me, “Are you ready?”, she asked. “Ready as I’ll ever be!”, you said trying to convince yourself. It was dark and wet in here, a dripping sound all around us. As we started in, we were forced to crawl through smaller holes to go further in. These were not the clothes to wear, you learned this very soon after scraping your knees and elbow a few times. As you went to go into a smaller opening between two walls of stone, you asked Maria, “Do you think we should turn back now?” “Maybe soon, I’m not sure how much further we can go anyway.”, Maria stated disappointed. Just as those words left her lips. Fuck. Are you kidding me? “Maria… I’m stuck!”, you screamed out as you started to jerk. You had went to crawl on through the rocks and got perfectly stuck at the waist, your hips were simply too rounded, too plush and soft, too wide and perfect. Maria was behind you, she tried to pull at you best she could, but to no avail, you were in fact stuck.

“Y/N, don’t panic. I can’t get you out by myself, I’m going to turn back and get help!”, Maria said as she started away from you. “No please, don’t leave me here alone, please Maria…”, you started to plead as your fears and anxiety set in. “Don’t worry Y/N I’ll be right back!”

You wanted to cry, to get free, to be anywhere but here. You closed your eyes to try to pass the time. But time was a scary thing, it seemed to last for forever. Soon you wasn’t sure how long you’d been here. Was it 5mins, or 5hours… fuck. You felt the tears forming in your eyes. You were going to be stuck here to die. Alone. Wait. Was you alone? What was that? You felt something slimy around your ankle. You immediately start to panic and think it’s a snake. But snakes don’t grab your ankles and spread them apart, trapping you even further. “Hello.. is someone there..?”, you whisper out. Nothing. No response. Although something is there, something that waits for stupid, breedable, beautiful girls like you. To come explore and get stuck just like this. Why else would he have fixed the huge rock walls in such a manner. This was no accident. Of course, how could you have known this?

You never get the response you were waiting for. Instead you felt another slimy appendage making its way up your leg, your fight or flight was in full swing as you jerked around as much as you could. Unfortunately for you, there was no getting away. Although your actions might have offended this creature a bit. You feel the familiar sliminess around your wrist now tightening you into place. Another slides around your neck and squeezes just enough to hold you still. This is when you realize, this isn’t human. You aren’t sure what it is. But you do know one thing, this creature isn’t here to help you… You weep softly as you know, no matter what you do, you’re fucked. The tentacle that was making its way up your leg is now slowly pulling your denim shorts aside. You can’t thrash about so you do what you can. “Please please leave me alone, please…my friend will be back soon with help..”, you plead with the creature. The creature now is undoing your bikini bottoms. Fuck it. “HELP SOMEONE PLEASE HELP ME, HELP ITS TRYING TO FU-“, you are cut off when a huge girthy tentacle shoves its way into your throat. It can’t take the chance of you getting the attention of anyone, he needs his time with you. Stop trying to cut it so short. You’ll enjoy this. Please just wait and see. The tentacle in your mouth moves ruthlessly back and forth while the one wrapped around your neck applies more pressure. Making you choke constantly. Tears fall from your eyes.

Now with your bikini bottoms out of the way. Nothing is stopping it. It takes and drags it’s tentacle across you from clit to asshole. It presents a smaller tentacle that latches onto your clit. You feel yourself clench around nothing and embarrassment floods over you, you can’t enjoy this. God your fucking disgusting, enjoying a filthy creature that’s about to abuse you in many fucked up ways. As the sucker latches down on your clit. Two more suckers find their way under your bikini top and latch onto your nipples, twisting the length of themselves around your beautiful breast. You feel your eyes roll back ever so slightly, the moan is cut off by the tentacle still in your mouth. Behind you two more tentacles appear, one is slightly teasing your pussy, the other is probing your ass, preparing it. The tentacle in your throat starts to get sloppy in its thrusting, it’s close. It’s so close. The light moan vibrations leaving your throat send it over the edge, just as the cum is flooding your throat and mouth. The two behind your dive into your tight holes without much warning. You feel your pussy stretch to the point you are going to split in half. Your virgin asshole is in absolute pain and discomfort as it takes the large tentacle in full. Once the creature has settled its length in both holes, it withdraws from your mouth. Leaving your mouth flooded with cum. Now it wants to hear all the noises you make, for if someone comes running to your rescue now, it will have already been finished and gone. And you will be stretched, covered, and unconscious.

It tightens around your neck and starts to fuck you at an unforgivable speed. You can feel the tentacles rubbing together inside of you. You can’t hold back the screams that rip through you, and then moans. “What is going on, fuck why am I so wet, why do I want this so bad, fuck my body feels so fuzzy and warm…”, you think to yourself. Don’t worry little one, you weren’t imagining that feeling, all that delicious cum you just swallowed, it has that affect on mere humans. Making them more receptive to this. Making them crave this. As the creature continues its assault. You can’t stop what comes out of your mouth, “please…more please… give me more… need more… cum in me please.” Your whimpers, pleas, and moans will the cave along with the noise of your holes being destroyed. The beautiful sound of you wet pussy. The creature is delighted that you finally can enjoy yourself. The creature can feel itself getting close, but fuck it doesn’t want to be done with you yet. Your too perfect. The way you clench around his tentacles when you cum, and the beautiful noises and words coming from your mouth. How deliciously tight your little asshole is…no he can’t just let you go. Just let you leave this place, never to touch and stretch you again…no that won’t do. These thoughts send him into a rage. He starts to use his tentacles to fuck into you as hard and ruthlessly as he can manage. Making you scream, and cry from the overstimulation of your body being completely fucked out. You aren’t sure how many times your came around this creature. You aren’t sure how long you’ve been here, you don’t care you just want more, please. The creature dips back into your beautiful holes once more before releasing all of his cum into your holes, sending you into once last orgasm. You can’t keep your eyes open, you soon fall into a deep slumber. The creature doesn’t pull out for a long time, making sure that his seed sticks, he wants you nice and plump, carrying his spawns, the perfect little baby machine. The creature slightly moves the rocks just enough to get you out, he gently drags you deeper into the cave. You are his. To breed,stretch, and fuck over and over and over again.

[deadinsidewithglitterontop]

I think I might be the only one in my class that is openly against the use of AI in any type of project, cause 98% of my friends and classmates seemly to just gave up on using their brain capacities and use chatGPT on their pieces and essays.

Recently I was doing a group project with some friends of mine - we were supposed to read a text and write a essay about it. We were a group of three so we divided what each one of us would read and write so none of us get overwhelmed with our parts, and for some reason I was having a hard time doing my part, I don't really know why, I would read and read and read and understand the text and know what I needed to write down but for some godamn reason I couldn't write. I was going through a block.

When we were getting close to the day we were supposed to turn the project in, my friends were asking me why I was taking so long to finish my piece cause it never took so long for me to finish an essay and it was only my part that was missing to completely finish the project. I answered that I didn't know why I was having such difficulty writing this but I was still trying to finish my part - and then my friends suggested I used chatGPT to write my piece.

The worst part is that they know my opinions about AI and its using on academic projects, and even if they were just trying to be helpful and find another solution for me csuse they could see that I was getting frustrated with that project, suggesting that I use chatGPT to finish an essay I know I'm pretty capable of writing is the equivalent of them punching me and kicking me in the guts.

I voiced my displeasure in their suggestion but they said that there might not have any other way to do it if we wanted to turn that project on time. I know that they didn't mean it in a bad way but I felt my intelligence and capacity being doubted at the simply fact that the first thing they suggested me to do is to use a chatbot. They still tried to comfort me saying that "the teacher won't notice, there's no problem in using it" ... my dude, when I say that the anger that I felt at that moment was enough motivation to put my thoughts in order and quickly finish writing my part of the project myself to prove that I am intelligent and capable enough to write essays better than any AI could.

Is not about using it to finish you projects quickier, is about letting a chatbot do a mediocre work for you knowing full well that you are capable of doing it and doing it good, but still choose the easier and poorly option instead of giving your best on a thing you know you're very much capable of doing, even if it doesn't ends up looking how you wanted it to look, but YOU did it, you but your brain and back and time and effort onto it.

Of course people could argue that using chatGPT is easier and quicker and could save a lot of time and work, but we have a brain and we're supposed to use it. Using AI to basically write your homework for you to me is like saying that you stopped using your brain altogether. Congratulations you just gave up on learning new things by yourself and doing things on your own and now need a chatbot to give you wrong information about a chapter of a book you could've well read and write about it if you just use 1% of your brain capacity.

when someone mentions using ai at me like chatgpt i physically feel my body recoil and my opinion of them rapidly decrease like in the sims

[hotchnerwrites]

Hi hi hi my babyy🤍🤍

First I want to apologize for appearing until now, life has become severely difficult :( How have you been? How is everything going?🫂

So now I'm someone's controversial young girlfriend🙇🏻‍♀️(it's not as many years difference as it sounds) and that gave me an idea with my favorite man🫠

What if Hotch and the reader have this mutual desire but Hotch doesn't approach the reader because her's younger and the reader doesn't approach him because her's afraid of rejection But one night maybe they share a kiss or a light touch that makes Hotch close himself off more and discourages the reader:( and finally when they go on a case the one from the head office who is Hotch's age flirts with the reader and she reciprocates first because she is single and second because she really loves that her couples are older 😮‍💨 and Aaron gets really jealous because he 'thought he was the only one' and that tension finally falls apart when he confronts her and she simply tells him that the head of the department is some kind of distraction about her crush on Hotch 🫠

The truth is that in the end I didn't know how to develop the idea, I'm sure you can do it better, I hope it was understood. 😭🙏🏻

As always take it only if you feel comfortable (and understand it) I send you all my love, I'm excited to be here again I'm not going to lie about it!!🥹💗💗

xoxoxo

-👩🏻‍🦰

Unspoken

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x BAU!reader

Word Count: 2.6k

Warnings: SFW, jealous!hotch, mutual pining, angst, sort of happy ending, making out, no use of (y/n),

A/N: HIIII LOVELY, missed seeing you in my requests. things have been crazy on my end ngl 😭 moved cities, broke my teeth, med exams etc. god is testing me rn smhhhh. and congratulations on your new relationship!!!! so happy for you <3 (totally not jealous 😔/s) anyways, kind of went crazy on this request, LOOOOVED the idea so much. i wanted this man suffering in the fic lmaooo. anyways, here you go!!! hope you like it, and it's what you wanted!!! sending u all my love 💚

PS. Let me know if the formatting is off. It's wonky on my laptop but not my phone for whatever reasons.

My requests are open. Send me stuff! :)

There had always been something there.

Unacknowledged, simmering beneath longing glances and fleeting touches. An almost magnetic pull between you and Aaron— felt by both, acted on by neither. It existed in the quiet spaces between conversations, the way he positioned himself beside you during briefings, in the way his hand would almost touch the small of your back before withdrawing at the last second.

But that something was fated to remain unspoken. Unmentioned.

And that had been Aaron’s choice, not yours.

You never pushed him. Not when you caught his gaze lingering, not when he brought you coffee and no one else, not when he gave you his coat on cold nights without a word, not even when— after a particularly hard case— you had found yourself in the dimly lit hallway of a motel, wrapped up in his arms, listening to his uneven heartbeat like he was battling something within himself. 

For a second, you had let yourself hope. This had to be it. His breaking point.

But then he had pulled away. 

And the next day? He shut you out completely.  He didn’t meet your eyes in the briefing. He stopped those wordless gestures you had learned to find comfort in. His usual attentiveness toward you, the way he always ensured you were comfortable… was gone. He was probably more attentive towards Reid.

So, it became obvious. You adapted like you always did. You drew the line in the sand and stuck to your side. The conversations became strictly professional, words clipped but polite. You stopped bringing him a cup of coffee if he lingered in the bullpen late at night. On long flights home, he stopped offering you the seat next to him.

Even the team noticed.

Rossi had given Hotch a Look more than once, his stare heavy with disappointment. JJ asked if you were okay, and even Morgan had thrown out a casual, “What’s going on with you two?”

You vehemently denied everything. Everything was fine. Everything was normal.

What else could you have said? That you wanted Aaron? That you had spent months convincing yourself he had wanted you, too? That, in the end, he had rejected it— no, he had denied you— not even with words, but with distance?

You knew you deserved better. You deserved someone who would be proud to love you. Someone who wasn’t scared of the possibility of a relationship.

So, you moved on.

———

Then came Baltimore. 

Michael Keating was confident, charismatic, and older. He was the Chief of the Baltimore Division, respected and soft-spoken. He carried himself with ease, joked about the growing silver streak in his hair, and greeted everyone by name. He made people laugh and asked about their day.

And he noticed you. 

It started small. A compliment on your profiling. Deferring to you when asked about the unsub. 

You hadn’t meant to encourage it. But then again— why refuse yourself? You had spent too long pining for something that wasn’t meant to happen. You were single, and you wanted a change. And Michael was perfect.

Keating was different. He was direct in a way Hotch never was. He didn’t hesitate to place a hand on your lower back as he showed you around the precinct. He leaned in when he spoke to you, close enough that you could smell his cologne. He smelled like the ocean— sea salt and sandalwood.

But there was something about Michael that reminded you of Aaron. The little things. The way his voice softened when he said your name. The way he listened— giving you his rapt attention, something Hotch always did, but only ever with you.

Nevertheless, Keating wasn’t Hotch. And you weren’t going to let yourself draw baseless comparisons. So you let him flirt with you. It felt good to be seen. When he brought you your morning coffee, you accepted gratefully, smiling up at him. When he leaned in and said something low and teasing, you laughed.

That was when you felt it.

A prickle at the back of your neck. Someone watching.

You didn’t deign to turn, but you knew. 

Aaron.

For a second you felt suffocated. But the feeling was gone as swiftly as it had come. When you finally joined your team, Hotch was talking with García, and he didn’t even spare you a glance.

For the rest of the day, you pretended that it hadn’t affected you as much as it did. You maintained your professional façade, breaking only once when Michael slid you a sticky note with a silly doodle on it. Everything went well. Or so you thought.

Hotch brushed past you with nothing more than a curt “Excuse me” as he entered the meeting room. His voice held a subtle undercurrent of knowing, but you brushed it off. It just wasn’t your problem any longer.

But when Keating pulled out your chair for you, you felt it again— the prickling.

Hotch walked out of the room.

Emily noticed. 

“Whatever it is,” she muttered as you watched Hotch’s back disappear down the hallway, “you two need to sort it out before it affects the case.”

You know she’s right. But you can’t bring yourself to answer. What was there to say?

Aaron had no right to feel this way. He had his chance. If he wanted you, he should have said so. But he didn’t, instead, he turned tail and ran.

And you weren’t going to sit around waiting for him to come to.

————

The bar had emptied, the rest of the team long since in their rooms. You had stayed a bit longer, letting the bite of your drink settle into your bones. You needed it after the week you’d had. Michael had apologised profusely when you’d invited him; he had to meet with the prosecutor. After the initial sting of disappointment, you were glad that he wasn’t here. You needed some space from it all. You let your mind disconnect from the world, letting the faint hum of the music take over.

Which is why you weren’t prepared when Aaron cornered you. 

“Keating?” His tone was level as if asking you about the weather. But the way his hands were clenched tight told you a different story. “That’s who you want?”

Your stomach twisted, almost painfully.

Not this. Not this conversation, not after months of silent torture, months of being ignored, months of being treated like nothing.

“What does it matter to you?” You retorted, rolling your eyes. Fatigue seeped into your voice that had nothing to do with the case. “You don’t get to ask me that, Aaron.”

Something flickered in his eyes when you said his name. Maybe it reminded him of how you used to say it with warmth.

He exhaled sharply through his nose, dragging a hand down his face. “Didn’t think he was your type.”

A short, humourless laugh escaped you. “My type?” You shook your head vigorously. “I didn’t realise I needed your opinion on that. You’ve barely acknowledged my existence this month.”

Hotch’s shoulders tensed. “That’s not—”

“Not what? Not fair?” Your eyes burned, “You pushed me away. You didn’t even ask how I felt. You chose for both of us and now you’re— what? Upset I’ve moved on?”

“That’s not what this is.”

“Enlighten me, then,” you snap, anger hiding the fact that you were begging for an answer, one you knew he’d never give.

Nothing. As expected. The silence between you stretched on. You didn’t know what you had been expecting, but it certainly wasn’t this. All of a sudden, the atmosphere of the bar became a little too much. The stench of stale beer overpowered your nose and the tinny audio from the jukebox irked you. You slid off the barstool and threw a couple of crumpled bills on the counter.

Then, barely above a whisper, you heard him rasp, “I thought I was the only one.”

A punch to your chest might have hurt less. 

Your breath stuttered, heart aching at the confession that settled in the space between you. He was falling apart, and you could see it—the way his brows drew together, the way his throat bobbed as he tried to force out something he wasn’t ready to say.

And for the first time, you saw the truth for what it was.

Aaron Hotchner was a man who carried too much. Who loved too hard and too quietly. Who convinced himself that his feelings were a burden he couldn’t afford, even when he was faced with the enormity of it.

But he wanted.

God, he wanted.

And it terrified him.

A bitter laugh escaped you. How could he? No, how dare he expect you to hold on to the idea that you were his when he kept you at a distance further than the rest of the team? That no one else could want you the way he did?

“You could have been, Aaron,” you responded, the weight of the world suddenly crushing you. “But you were the one who made sure you weren’t.”

Something in him shattered. You could tell. The way he flexed his hand, the way his posture stiffened like he was dealing with a blow he wasn’t ready to receive.

“Why are you doing this, to me?” Hotch’s voice was hoarse, thick with emotion— anger, regret, longing and want all tangled together.

“I’m doing this to you?” Your voice wavered, and you hated yourself for it, “Hotch, do you even hear yourself right now?”

He stepped closer, crowding your space, eyes dark with something desperate. “I tried—” He dragged a shaky hand through his hair, “ I tried to stay away. I thought it was the right thing.”

“Right thing for who? It sure as hell wasn’t right for me,” you jabbed an accusatory finger into his chest, ignoring the slight tremble, “You shut me out. You acted like nothing was there, like I had imagined everything.” Your voice cracked, “And now I get to deal with you being jealous because Michael actually sees me? Because he’s not afraid to show me wants me?”

A muscle in Aaron’s jaw fluttered as he repeated, “I told you, it’s not about that.”

“Oh, wasn’t it?” you cried, anger building, “You wanted me to wait for you? To exile myself in the dark and hope that maybe one day you’d stop being afraid of us? That’s not fair, Aaron. I can’t do that to myself. I deserve better.”

“I know.” His voice cracked on the words, and for the first time, you saw the raw emotion on his face— all of it. The weight of it, the struggle in his eyes, the way his fingers twitched like he wanted to reach for you but didn’t know if he had the right.

The anger ebbs out of you, replaced with something numb.

“Then why? Why didn’t you—”

Aaron moved then. He reached for you before he could stop himself, finger ghosting over your wrist before settling there, gripping gently. The heat of his fingers burned, like something he had been starving for but denied himself for too long.

“Because… I wanted you. Too much,” he admitted, voice grating like it pained him. His grip tightened on your wrist, thumb tracing the delicate skin. “I was afraid that if I let myself have this— you— I wouldn’t know how to stop.”

It was cruel, really. How he could unravel you with his words, make you forget about the months of pain and anger and hurt you’d endured. Even the way he looked at you like you were someone he couldn’t bear to lose.

“Aaron—”

Whatever you were about to say was swallowed up by his lips on yours. 

It wasn’t anything like the countless times you’d imagined it. You had always figured he’d be gentle, taking his time.

But this wasn’t soft, nor was it careful. This was desperate.

Like he was a man at his breaking point, like someone who had wasted time denying everything, only to give in all at once. His hands cupped your face, thumbs brushing across your cheeks as he tilted your head, deepening the kiss. He was pressed flush against you, sandwiching you between the barstool and his body like he was afraid you’d slip through his fingers like sand. In the back of your mind, you faintly registered the whir of the jukebox as it changed the track.

You gasped against Aaron, and that tiny sound undid him. He groaned softly, tilting his head to chase you, to taste more, to lose himself in a way he had always wanted but never permitted.

You breathed in his scent, bourbon and coffee, fingers curling in the fabric of his shirt. You were anchoring yourself because this was everything you had been waiting for. 

The kiss lingered, months of tension evaporating between you, the space that had existed suddenly gone, replaced by something breathless and real. You pushed back against him, ready to get your heart’s desire. Aaron didn’t stop; he was kissing you as if it was the last thing he would ever do. He tasted heavenly, much better than you’d ever imagined. Every thought eddied out of your mind as you let the feeling of his lips against yours wash over you. Even before the moment was over, you knew that this memory would be branded into your soul. 

When Aaron finally pulled away, he didn’t go too far. You sucked in a ragged breath and squeezed your eyes closed as he rested his forehead against yours. His breathing was uneven too, and you could feel the warmth of it against your lips. Then, slowly, his hands dropped from your face. He took a step back— reluctantly— just enough to reach up and loosen his tie. 

His fingers scrabbled at the knot for a moment before he wrenched it down forcefully. He then ran his hands through his hair again, mussing it in a way you’d never seen before, and let out a breathless laugh. For a split second, memories of the night when he had held you close flashed before your eyes. He had loosened his tie then, too, before enveloping you in his embrace. 

“I don’t want to be the one who let you get away,” Aaron whispered, his voice bringing you back to the present. 

The pain in your chest throbbed. At how broken and hopeful he sounded, all at once.

“Aaron,” you murmured, letting his name rest on your tongue for a moment too long.

“I—” he stopped, shaking his head like he couldn’t believe himself. This wasn’t where he had thought the night would go. You watched Aaron carefully, his chest still rising and falling too quickly. You reached for his hand, squeezing it once. 

“Aaron,” you uttered his name again, tone firmer, hoping to bring him back to you.

He looked at you then, chocolate brown eyes hardening with resolve. He started, “This… us…”

You cut him off, then. 

“Aaron,” you repeat, brushing your fingers over his jaw, “You need to choose. Me, us. Everything. You have to choose to stay.”

He glanced off to the side somewhere. Then, a slow exhale. A quiet moment of realisation.

He met your gaze again, almost bashfully this time, “If you’ll still have me.”

You laughed then, disbelieving because, of course, Aaron would say that, as if your heart hadn’t been his since the first time you saw him.

Neither of you spoke then. The past, the hurt, the hesitation— but also the possibility— swam through the charged atmosphere.

The choice.

“Okay,” you said simply.

When Aaron pulled you into his chest, you let him.

Thank you for reading! I appreciate any likes/comments/reblogs/follows. Constructive criticism is welcome. Do not plagiarise my content and/or post it anywhere without crediting me.

Dividers by @/cafekitsune

[jade4956]

Lost in Germany

It had been a week since Tahlia Bliss had stepped off the plane in Munich, and the city had started to feel more like home. The rush of the move had settled, and the first few days of training had left her physically exhausted but mentally alive. She was settling into her new place, learning the layout of the city, and adjusting to life in Germany. But as much as she was starting to feel comfortable, there was something missing, someone.

That was until one afternoon, when Tahlia heard a knock at her door. She wasn’t expecting anyone, so she wasn’t sure who it could be. She wiped her hands on her workout pants and walked over, half-distracted by the thought of her training session earlier in the day.

When she opened the door, her eyes immediately locked with the last person she expected to see.

“JESSIE!” Tahlia gasped, her voice a mix of surprise and joy. She hadn’t been expecting Jessie to visit anytime soonlet alone show up at her door in Germany.

Jessie, her girlfriend, grinned widely and opened her arms. “Surprise!” she said, her eyes twinkling with mischief.

Tahlia stepped forward, wrapping her arms around Jessie in a tight hug. It was the kind of hug she needed, a warm, familiar comfort she hadn’t realized she was craving. As she pulled back, she looked at Jessie in disbelief. “What are you doing here? I thought you had training with Portland.”

Jessie shrugged playfully. “Well, I may have swapped a few things around. Thought you could use some company, and I’ve always wanted to see Germany.”

Tahlia laughed, the weight of the past few days lifting off her shoulders. “You’re amazing,” she said, still grinning. “This is the best surprise.”

Jessie reached into her bag, pulling out a few items that Tahlia instantly recognized. “I brought you some things,” Jessie said. “Your favorite snacks from Portland, some clothes I thought you might like, and… some little comforts for your new place. Thought you might appreciate them.”

Tahlia felt a swell of gratitude in her chest. “You didn’t have to do all this. But… I’m really glad you did.”

The next few days were a whirlwind of exploration and adventure. Tahlia and Jessie spent their time together wandering through Munich, indulging in the local cuisine, visiting the beautiful landmarks, and simply enjoying each other’s company.

One afternoon, after a hearty breakfast, they decided to go on a little excursion to explore the surrounding area. They hadn’t planned anything specific, just wandering with no particular destination in mind. They explored hidden alleyways, passed by small cafes, and took pictures by the famous landmarks. But as they wandered farther from Tahlia’s apartment, things started to go awry.

Somewhere between a cozy little bakery and a park, they found themselves completely turned around. The familiar landmarks they had been relying on no longer seemed to make sense, and their attempts to navigate through the city turned into confused glances at their phones. The GPS wasn’t helping, and the street signs were in German, which they still weren’t entirely used to.

Tahlia stopped and glanced around. “Where are we?” she muttered, trying to read a sign that didn’t seem to make any sense to her. “I swear we passed this already, like, three times.”

Jessie squinted at the map on her phone and frowned. “I think we took a wrong turn back there. We’re… we’re a little lost.”

“Okay, a lot lost,” Tahlia corrected. She laughed but then felt the panic creeping in. They hadn’t brought enough food for the walk, and it was starting to get later. “We need food. Like, now.”

Jessie agreed, rubbing her stomach. “Definitely. But…” She hesitated. “I don’t know where we are. There’s no one to ask for directions… Do you want to just… keep walking?”

Tahlia looked around. They were surrounded by unfamiliar streets and houses. A quiet neighborhood. No one around to ask. The thought of trying to ask someone for help made her nervous. “Uh… yeah, maybe… but we’re too proud to ask for help, aren’t we?”

Jessie chuckled. “Yeah, pretty much. But I’m starving, so I’m about to break my own rule.”

With no other option in sight, they hesitated but then decided to call in reinforcements.

Tahlia pulled out her phone and quickly dialed Magda’s number. She and Pernille had been her teammates for years, and Tahlia knew they’d be willing to help, even if they had no idea where she was.

“Hey, Magda,” Tahlia greeted, trying to sound casual even though she was clearly flustered. “Quick question—how do we not get lost in this city? I’m kind of stuck.”

Magda’s voice came through clearly, a smile in her tone. “Tahlia, you’re lost? In Munich?” She laughed, though it was gentle. “Okay, okay, let me help you out. Where are you?”

“I’m… I don’t know,” Tahlia admitted, turning the phone around to Jessie with a sheepish look. Jessie raised her hands in surrender.

“Lost in Germany,” Jessie said, half-laughing, half-groaning.

Magda’s chuckle rang through the phone. “Sounds like you two need some help. Alright, just send me your location, and I’ll get you sorted.”

“Thanks, Magda,” Tahlia said, sending her the location. “We’re starving, so food suggestions are appreciated.”

“You’re lucky I’m not busy today. I’ll be there in 20 minutes. Stay put, I’ll bring Pernille, and we’ll sort you out,” Magda said, the amusement still clear in her voice.

Twenty minutes later, Magda and Pernille arrived, and it felt like a lifeline. Magda had a big grin on her face as she spotted Tahlia and Jessie. “See? You two just had to call someone with a good sense of direction,” she said, winking.

Tahlia and Jessie let out a collective sigh of relief. Magda led them to a nearby restaurant she knew, one tucked away in a quiet street. It was perfect, serving hearty German dishes that felt like the hug they needed after their little adventure.

As they sat down to eat, Jessie leaned in and whispered to Tahlia, “Next time, we ask for directions. No more pride.”

Tahlia chuckled, taking a bite of her meal. “Agreed. But at least we got to call in the dream team.”

The four of them spent the rest of the evening enjoying their food, laughing at how easily they got lost, and catching up on everything they’d missed. The confusion of the day faded into a warm memory of adventure, one Tahlia would never forget. It had been a little chaotic, a little silly, but it was perfect.

————————————————————————

Hope you liked my fic. Thanks for reading if you would like to request something please do.

[bloodydeanwinchester]

Hej |˶˙ᵕ˙ )ﾉﾞ

Can I ask a possibly dumb question about Supernatural?

You see I haven't actually watched the show, I'm just on tumblr and ao3 enjoying people ramble about the good bits of the story and one quite common theme of fix-it fics for the episode that shan't be named is Dean retiring (more or less willingly, usually with Cas) while Sam and Eileen keep hunting. And I've been wondering why is that, considering Dean is generally the hunting guy, meanwhile Sam is the one that wanted to and actually got out (twice?).

My apologies if I'm bothering you about something that should have been obvious (���-⁠_⁠-⁠;⁠)

Have a nice day 🌻

hi! no worries, it's not a bother at all! i always appreciate it when someone sends an ask with a question like this in a genuinely curious and nice way (rather than some i get where people just tell me how im wrong). also apologizing in advance because im pretty sure this is gonna get a little long

now having not watched the show before, i can totally see where you would have gotten this idea that dean is the one who wants to be a hunter and sam is the one who wants to get out. it's a pretty common fanon belief but im honestly not sure why so many people believe it. maybe because in the pilot dean is the one who is hunting and comes to stanford to pull sam out of his "normal" life back into hunting? or it could be because dean says at least a few times that he wants to go out in a blaze of glory? whatever the reasoning, it's simply not true!

one thing we learn over the course of the show is that dean, especially in the earlier seasons, is putting on a performance of who he thinks he supposed to be, who others expect him to be. so i think the only reason that dean is "the hunting guy" is because he has spent a lot of his life being that guy for his father and/or his brother. his dad raised him to be a weapon so dean became a weapon. he was told that his job was to protect sammy so he did everything he could to protect sammy. and as for sam wanting to have a normal life, i think there's a pretty good argument that he at least partly wanted that because it wasn't what his father wanted. and sam spent most of his life right up until john died fighting with him. not hunting and instead going to school was sam's rebellion against their father.

and there's also a lot of people who believe that "dean dragged sam back into hunting" in season 1 but if you watch the pilot you'll see dean wants sam to stay to help him look for their dad. but when sam refuses, dean brings him back to stanford. it isn't until jess is murdered and sam sets off on his quest for revenge that sam leaves stanford for good. and the only times that sam ever actually gets out of hunting after stanford was when he was grieving losing dean in season 8 and post series. i doubt sam would have stopped hunting in either of those instances had dean still been alive.

i could be wrong about this, but i'm not sure we ever see sam express a desire to get out of hunting after season 1? in season 2 he really dedicates himself to hunting out of some mixture of grief over their father's death and guilt at having spent so much of their time together fighting. and in season 4 we see sam say that he doesn't want to go back to their old lives. season 5 we see sam express that the apple pie life isn't what he wants anymore. while in the same episode dean seems to be saying that maybe he does want it (middle two gifs).

and as for dean, as early as 1x06 we see that maybe this isn't really the life he wanted after all. when the shapeshifter becomes dean (and as a result is able to see into his thoughts) he tells sam:

in contrast to sam leaning into hunting after their father dies, in season 2 we really start to see dean show that he wants to get out:

2x09 dean says he's tired of the job/life/weight on his shoulders.

2x10 dean expresses that he's sick of the job and being a hunter wasn't his destiny (because he doesn't believe in destiny).

2x20 dean's djinn dream is a world where he got to have a normal childhood and a life where he never became a hunter. and even though the dream has its issues, he ultimately only leaves because he's figured out it's all a lie:

and throughout the series there are lots of moments where dean says he wants a family/wants to get out but doesn't think he'll ever get to or where he criticizes the way their dad raised them as hunters. and in 13x23 he says that if the world was safe he would want to retire.

i have less examples that come to mind from the later seasons cause it's been a while since i've watched them, but i think there's plenty of evidence throughout the series to support the idea that post series dean would retire with cas and sam would keep hunting with eileen.

[fuumiku]

Demon AU (krkb)

+ bonus Kuro

Kurokabuuu!! If Kabru gets to be naked then so does Kuro, equality for all 🔥Not to break the mystique but in that intro comic Kuro isn't flexing he's just pushing Mickbell away bc he about to be in business mode gdbdg. Was weird trying to make Kuro look more demony, did not work very well except for making him buffer but hey...! A black dog demon yeah yeah yeah...!

I have accidentally recreated Howl's Moving Castle... NOW HEAR ME OUT- The base concept for my satyr Kabru AU (the initial idea was the sketch where he has no horns haha) now turned demon AU was materializing Kabru's fear of anything monster, particularly his insecurity as a kid of being an incubus('s child and that making him a monster), and helping him work through it so he can love himself and others and the world better, but everything started clicking only after thinking about Kuro's role in the setting more. He's this feared dude with a witchy reputation and a lil rhyme about how everyone should stay away from him for their own sake etc etc, but he's not a demon just a dog dude really. The setting in this AU is much like Dunmeshi, but all monsters are called "demons" instead and tied with this concept of demonic not just monstrous, there's special generalized fear in them being kinda fundamentally evil. But they're just beasts, and sometimes just demihuman races, like Kuro. Magic does exist though, and curses, and yeah just a folk kinda vibe!

Kabru because he's become supernatural knows how to speak Kuro's tongue now too, or maybe he's always known it idk... But Kabru sought Kuro out because he's The demon guy around, thought if anyone around would know how to do anything about his having become a monster it'd be him- Mickbell is there too ig like waaa this innocent-looking (def isn't) human loves this demon and lives with him, alone but peaceful as hermits in the woods? Wah wild. Wah we can still have love?? Wah we can fall in love together and live happy monster lives even if ostracized??! Wah wait I'm not even a monster it was just my own latent magical powers cursing myself because I worried and believed myself to be a demon so intensely for so long?!! Wah we can truly have it all...... Growth feels so nice. Except Mickbell, that grown ass man is not finding inner peace yet. Still he's chill here since he's a side char not a main one

It's how Kuro's confident in himself despite everything being stacked against him, it's how he still trusts and likes himself, it's how he just wants a simple happy life and pursues what he wants, it's how he takes things simply... Self-critical Kabru always neglecting himself over obsessing about the greater good could learn from him........ Kuro is the only one after his transformation that unconditionally welcomes him and shows him compassion and it's all so confusing to him, especially since at first Kabru wouldn't even offer that same humanization to Kuro, only risked it out of necessity for his own circumstances, but he gradually becomes able to see the humanity in him despite his appearance, mannerisms, way of life and ideals, until he sees the humanity in him and himself too despite their appearances, until he finds there's nothing wrong in this routine and life of theirs in this isolated magical little place, until........... Just about accepting all of those fuzzy inbetween ways to be that are unclean and hard to understand from the outside, and growing comfortable in them and loving himself and kuro and the life they've made together.......!!!!!! What if through humanizing you I humanized myself... What if through growing a understanding for each other wevalidated ourselves, love as self-love...

I love including Rin into things, for a more plotty story it'd be neat if she tried and followed Kabru... He up and disappeared and she's a capable mage and she doesn't know what his plan was because he never tells her anything so she goes out and pursues him- Could even be the main antagonist besides just idk self-hate and townspeople lol, like she thinks Kuro is keeping him prisoner or something and also because she kinda represents the same kinda social trauma Kabru has, where she's strict about conforming and being an irreproachable undeniable human so she kind of wants to drag him back to that state he was in of anxiety over acting and being human enough...... But of course in the ultimate confrontation when she has her staff pointed at Kuro and they talk, she's hurt by him not confiding in her and thinking of her as someone who wouldn't help, but she understands and stops and yay happy ending :> And if we want them to be in this Holm and Dia may be allies I feel 🤔Like maybe they help out Kabru when they see him, help him escape their human village at one point or something, Holm is quite nice and cares for spirits and Dia's fled her home too so they kinda get it in a way, it'd contrast Rin... This isn't about the Laios party lol. Rin & Mickbell shenanigans would lowkey be fun like maybe Mickbell tricks Rin into thinking Kabru IS there against his will so she can take him away and the status quo of Mickbell not having to share Kuro with anyone is preserved, or maybe they just shittalk and grumble together. Gbdgd this is a plotline about accepting change and these two are noooot happy about it

So yeah he hates being a monster that's the schtick!! Won't a cool dog man pleaseeee turn me human again. Surely he can do that right. So he goes to live with this feared coolass magicky guy and that guy's little guy at his weird home and through making connections and self-love the curse you actually unknowingly put on yourself gradually lessens and disappears, but you don't care anymore because that's the point 😌 Which is why I call it a Howl's Moving Castle recolor gdbd

Kabru is usually the voice of reason within kurokabu so it's really fun switching the roles in that way. If you're just stumbling into this and are sooo confused first of all congrats on getting so far second I can't overstate how unironic this is + if you want more explanation about the ship I made a brainstormy manifesto here <3 Like, did you know Kuro's name is actually Yodan? He was likely called Kuro by Mickbell due to the language barrier. In this AU it's because no one's interested in him as a person so people just give him an ominous title that means black. But Kabru learning his name and Kuro willingly giving away that information and Kabru feeling the weight of it because he really thinks this'd allow him to control him (he can't actually control bc he's not a demon! No one's a demon yay! Just weirdo humans who get otherized)......

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Other vers because I 1) really like it and 2) am very indecisive. I overthink every single slight color change I stg lol

Sigh....... Like bro what if we were both so so far away from home and we knew we can't really go back and we've made our peace with that but man I miss not having been ripped away from my homeland and we are both so so isolated in our own ways in our presents and with a small yet gigantic gesture of compassion and of seeing each other we can learn and grow together with secret study dates where I teach you how to communicate the same way you're teaching me your language, we are both reaching across to each other we are both finding in one another a presence and humanity that feels so rare anywhere else. A sliver of warmth a sliver of home but also a sliver of the new, and embracing that things are changing and that we've changed and wow the animality within humanity and the humanity within animality!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Hey bro your humanity I am only now fully grasping and coming to terms with is so hot bro............ What if your beastly features ended up making me more comfortable in my own stinky human animal flawedness bro........ What if we could just be together reassured through each other that we're human enough no matter what and that's all we need to just be and wahhhhh aughhhhh

Kurokabu is Kuro needing to choose between Kuro and Yodan. Kurokabu is needing to feel comfortable in animality within humanity. What if we stopped repressing ourselves 🫶

[thevoidscreams]

Lorgar being an absolute simp for his pregnant wifey but make it body worship because hot damn (for that ask u asked <333)

Day 15 Year 2: Lorgar is so baby girl I love him Highkey this is mostly just Loragr being a simp for you, his small wife. Warnings: Pregnant sex, body worship, Lorgar being Lorgar, hormonal mood swings

Word count:2326

He starts with your legs first, as the months have progressed you find that your feet got more sore and your legs ached with the added weight of the life growing inside you. So that was where Lorgar liked to start. With a bottle of oil and large inhumanly warm hands he massaged your legs, digging his fingers in at just the right places to bring relief from the pain, he never quibbled about it, finding pleasure in the act of serving you in this small way. Just one of the many acts of love he gave to you. Even before you had become pregnant, Lorgar had been a dedicated and dutiful lover. Now your husband, he only seemed more invested in seeing to your well being.

He held your legs over his as he massaged. You felt fresh and clean after a nice warm bath. He'd spent the whole time cleaning you, combing soaps and creams into your hair and skin, you were glowing from the attention and the scrubbing. Your hair was neat and orderly, not a snag or snarl to be found. He'd also had a plate of figs brought to the room to satisfy a sudden craving.

He was focused on your body as he worked the oil in with meticulous little circles, you moaned as he hit a particularly tense spot. His fingers slowed and he looked up to gauge your reaction. "Good." You told him, reassuring him that he hadn't hurt you. He nodded and returned to your thighs. You became so relaxed you nearly fell asleep.

Lorgar's hands continued to push and caress till both legs were feeling so much better. "I love you Lorgar." You mumbled sleepily, the primarch smiled and reclined next to you, kissing your forehead softly. "I love you more." He breathed. You huffed and poked his chest with one finger. "Wrong." He took your hand in his and kissed it. "Not wrong. You know it is true, give in to the universal fact." "And what fact is that?"

"That I love you more." He hummed, as he sat up and pulled you into his lap. He reached for the oil and poured a portion into his palm, slathering it over your belly. "I will have to see some writing on that, have you any peer reviewed studies?"

"I do not need studies or reviews to know. I have two hearts. And I love you with the entirety of every cell of both of them. Whereas you can only love me with one heart. And thus, I love you more." You couldn't discern why, but at his words you immediately burst into tears. Perhaps it had been the long day, or just the hormones or even the insinuation that Lorgar somehow doubted your love for him was as strong as it was.

Lorgar stopped, shocked by the sudden overwhelming display of emotion. "My love, what is wrong?" He panicked.

"You think I don't love you." You rolled out of his lap and onto the bed, not facing him as you cried. "That isn't true." He spoke, his hearts clenching with guilt as he saw how his words had affected you. And he was quick to pull you back up, though you laid limp and awkward in his arms, just because you could. And because his words nettled you.

"I was simply trying to tell you that I loved you, and was using my two hearts as emphasis while trying to make my point." He soothed but you maintained your boneless structure and he sighed setting you down on the mattress.

"My love you confound me. In all my years I have learned many things, but I fear I may never truly understand you." He smiled softly.

"Clearly, because anyone with eyes could see that I love you with two hearts as well." You told him. Lorgar was stunned into silence at your words. You were baseline, you only had one biologically.

Lorgar watched as you rolled back towards him with a bit of effort, on account of the belly. "Come here, I'll show you."

Lorgar came down to your level and you guided him so his ear would be over your bump. His eyes widened and he smiled happily. His hearing was beyond any normal humans and he could hear the tiny quiet thump-thump, of a second heart, just out of sync with yours. His eyes misted with tears of joy and love as he wrapped an arm around you to keep you close.

"I see now. I am sorry my love. I never should have doubted." He kissed your belly and you felt the baby roll to be closer to their father. "You may have come into this with two hearts to love me. But I love you so much I grew a whole extra one to show you I love you." You joked. But Lorgar felt the weight of the words and was once more struck by how deeply he loved you. How he loved what you could do that he could not. He held you gently, his cheek against your bump as he basked in the love he felt for you.

His hand stroked up and down the bump, the warmth felt so nice you just sighed and relaxed. Your body was a wonder to him, the way it was growing into a new life, a life that was half of him and half of you.

It was miraculous, as sure a sign to him that you were destined to be his anything else. He kissed the bump over and over, giving thanks for the small life.

You giggled as Lorgar kissed over a sensitive spot, your body wiggling. The sound of your laughter, even a laugh as light as that, was like the sweetest music to him. He kissed the spot over and over again making you gasp and attempt to wiggle away. "No. Not there, please."

He acquiesced and kissed lower, you gasped,  finding the spot sensitive for other reasons. Lorgar raised an eyebrow, his mouth quivering with a smile. His lips continued to travel south, pressing warm kisses to your stomach, then thighs, before he settled between them and pressed a kiss directly to your clit.

If there was one thing Lorgar was always keen to do it was eat you out. Sometimes he wouldn't even allow you to touch him, just eating you out till you were begging him to give you some rest.

On more than one occasion he'd gotten so turned on while doing it he'd cum in his clothes. His mouth latched onto your clit and sucked gently, making your hips buck against his face.

Your movements only spurred him on further, his tongue lapping up between your folds to gather your sweetness. You wanted to cum, but you also wanted your husband to get off as well. He hadn't fucked you properly since your belly started to show. And while his fingers were the match to any regular man's cock in size it still wasn't the same.

"Lorgar. I need you. Please." You begged. He responded by kissing back up your body, stopping at your breasts before taking a nipple into his mouth and lavishing it with his tongue. You felt his fingers gently stroking your folds and gasped as he pushed one in, you wrapped your arms around his neck trying to tug him further up. He obliged so his face was level with yours, giving you a tender kiss as he began to work his fingers.

"Your body is perfection." He sighed. You smiled and chuckled. "Don't let Fulgrim hear that. Or he might start seeking me in his pursuit for it." Lorgar's body tensed and he buried his face in your shoulder a dark and potent emotion burned in his chest at the thought. "As if I would ever let him touch you." He growled. "You are mine."

The sudden dark and possessive shift in his mood did things to you that you weren't proud of, but you tightened around his fingers and he seemed to notice. "Such a naughty thing. Bringing up my brother to make me jealous when I have my fingers in you." He rolled the tips of his fingers against the front wall of your cunt and made you gasp as he pushed into that small section of ribbed flesh that felt so good.

He kept at it until you were coming undone on his fingers. Wetting them with your juices, he brought them up to his lips and sucked them clean. "How was that my love?" "Good.." You began but had to stop to gather your scrambled thoughts. He could tell immediately that you had more to say and pressed. "What is on your mind my love?" "Well, I know that you want to be cautious, but I really would like to have sex again, the kind where you can also get off, that is."

Lorgar shook his head. "Darling, please, I will not risk your well being." "But the apothecary said that it was okay for us to do so. He said as long as we are not overly rough."

Lorgar seemed firm. "I do not trust myself to not lose myself in your warmth and accidentally become too harsh."

You wanted to cry out in frustration, but took a deep breath instead. "Then let me handle it. If I'm on top and setting the pace then I can make sure that it is gentle enough." You looked up at him eyes pleading with him to let you. Lorgar could see how desperate you were to have him again and it tore at his hearts to see you that way. He never would allow himself to hurt you, he simply couldn't bear the thought of it. "Please, Gar, we won't be able to for weeks after I give birth, we should make the most of the time we have now." You petted his chest and kissed his cheek. "Please?" You begged again.

Lorgar couldn't say no to you when you asked him so sweetly. You were his weakness. He couldn't deny you.

"Very well. I shall allow you to be on top, but if I feel things are getting to be too much then I will put a halt to it immediately." He relented, rolling onto his back and settling you over his hips. "I understand." You wiggled happily as he lined up his cock for you. Sinking down onto it you felt properly stretched for the first time in several weeks. Lorgar's head fell back onto the pillows and he grit his teeth trying desperately not to just thrust up into you. He'd been so pressed about hurting you that he hadn't gotten off with you outside eating you out. His hand was never enough and he knew it never would be again. Not after getting to feel the bliss that was your warmth. His hands went to your hips helping you lower yourself on his shaft and rise once more. Throne take him this is what the old Terran stories of seeing the light must truly have been about. Because he'd never felt closer to heaven then when he was inside you. Your hands went to Lorgar's chest, supporting your upper half as you rode his cock. It was so good to be full again that you were sure you wouldn't last very long. "I love you, Lorgar. I love you so much." You pant as you felt his cock rubbing all the right places.

"I love you too, my sweetness." He swallows hard and watches you bounce, body softened by the changes it had undergone, but still recognizably you. Everything you did made him love you more. Many men had told him that they had not found their wives attractive after getting pregnant, but Lorgar couldn't have disagreed more. He was enamored, so much that he thought that maybe he could just keep you this way. After all he did want a large family, and he needed to set a good example for his gene sons.

He would set that example with the aid of their mother, it was what the legion had taken to calling you. Their legion mother, now the mother of his biological child, all was perfect as if it had been preordained. He reached up to touch your bump, the physical embodiment of your love was in there. It was that thought that sent him over the edge. Your body had swelled and changed to carry the life that would represent your love for one another. And you did it all because you loved him. You loved him. The words repeated in his mind as he pulled you down for a kiss, his hips thrusting up to meet yours sending you to your second orgasm of the evening.

Once you two had finished he let go and began to look you over, not letting any part of you go unobserved. "Was I too rough?" "No." "Are you hurting anywhere?" "No, Lor-" "If I was too much, please I must know, I would never forgive-" You shut him up with a kiss. "I'm not hurt, in fact I'm quite happy. I've missed that, it feels incomplete to finish without having you also there to finish alongside me."

Lorgar sighed and laid you down next to him once more. He couldn't help but worry, he loved you so dearly. He felt like his soul would catch fire and burn him to a crisp every time he looked at you.

Before he knew it you were asleep, he slipped from the bed to fetch more blankets, his mind busy with the thoughts of the evening. When he returned he found you blindly feeling for him in your sleep. His hearts fluttered at the idea that even in your sleep you sought him out. He slid back into bed, making sure you were covered and pulled you back into his chest. In the morning he'd look you over again and make you breakfast.

[junedenim]

2016

beneath the boardwalk, part 14 (series masterlist)

used to be my girl

warnings: ...i don't know at this point. let it be a surprise.

word count: 8.5k

January turns me into a bitter, restless being. I feel a need to be everywhere, yet I am too cold to move. I stay under my bed covers and rot. Unlike past winters, I had a watchman to make sure I didn’t slip into complete hibernation, and though I grew my hair long and had less care for what clothes I wore under my coat, I didn’t feel the need to set my apartment on fire.

George’s look hardened in winter, but his spirit didn’t. His smile glowed like the star on top of the tree. He shovelled the snow off my apartment steps, granting me favour with neighbors I previously thought hated me.

Mr. & Mrs. Sanders, who lived below me in the grand apartment on the first floor, gifted me a peanut butter fudge. Mrs. Sanders was quite disappointed to learn George didn’t actually live there. I was terrified she would revoke the dessert. I already shoved one in my mouth and nearly moaned at the delightful taste. Thankfully, they left the dessert with me and invited George and me over for dinner.

After the mouth-watering dinner, when George and I ascended the stairs to my apartment, I told him, “I can never break up with you ‘cause I think she’ll kill me if I do.”

He kissed my cheek. “Good.”

Should I have feared losing him or Mrs. Sanders and her kitchen knives?

*

My New Year’s resolution was to read more. George was the kind of man who believed in those wishful things. He had everyone who worked at the bookstore write one and pin it to the wall. He pinned mine next to his and cited me as an honour member. It felt like too much pressure not to uphold, especially when he gave me free books.

I started big, so I didn’t have to worry what he thought of me for not making it through a 100-page book. So, I cracked War & Peace open on the 10th.

I was two pages in when Alex called me.

“David Bowie died,” he told me.

It felt like every piece of news we exchanged that year was wrapped in somber tones. It wasn’t intentional. These were somber years. It was like god had died. We had to discuss everything. Nothing felt real until I knew what he thought about it and vice versa, I suspect. Unfortunately, Bowie was the first of these phone calls.

When I told Alex about my reading, he uttered, “Fuck. Are you trying to kill yourself?”

“If I accidentally drop the book, it could take off my foot.” The nearly 1,500 pages weighed around a newborn baby. “If I start now, I might be finished by the time I’m in a nursing home.”

He laughed at me. “Why didn’t you start with something lighter?”

I stood to grab a snack from the kitchen. My stomach rumbled. We’d been on the phone for a while. “Because I’m trying to be impressive. I might Anna Karenina myself.”

“See,” he said, “you’re already a Russian lit expert. When did you read Anna Karenina?”

George was due to come over in less than a half hour after work. He was making me a Greek chicken with cucumber-feta salad for dinner. I don’t know a single person who is healthier than George. I suppose none of them live in New York and smoke cigarettes like all my friends do. I snacked on a bag of chips. “I watched the movie.”

I could picture his smile. “I think War & Peace has a movie if you feel like giving up.”

“It’s alternative viewing, not giving up,” I reasoned. He was amused by that too. “Is it warm there? It’s freezing here.” I never named LA; it was simply there for me. New York was here.

“15 degrees or something,” he told me. No one I knew spoke in Celsius. It felt like order was restored. “The sky is crying a little. Been inside all day.”

I sat on the edge of my bed and placed the throw blanket over me. “It’s below freezing here. It’s crazy how different it can be when we’re in the same country.” Things were different when we were in the same city. I don’t know why a whole country between us would be any different.

“It was above 30 on me birthday.”

I stilled. “Shit.”

“It’s okay.” He laughed, but I wasn’t finding humour in the situation. I didn’t call him. No text. No “Happy Birthday.”

I clutched my hand over my head. “No, it’s not. I feel awful! I’ve barely been able to keep track of what day it is. I’m sorry.”

“I don’t care, Jane. I got to avoid your relentless jokes.” Alex last cared about a birthday around 18. I guess after that birthdays matter less and less.

“Oh, my god!” I pained myself. “I had a boatload of 30-year-old jokes. I even wrote them down.”

“Skipping your mocking was birthday present enough. It gives me a chance to come up with some for your birthday.” 

I pouted. “That’s not very generous.”

“Boo woo. I’ll give you In Search of Lost Time for your birthday.” 3,200 pages. I’ll be reading it in the grave.

*

George and I followed a screening of Brooklyn with lunch at his favourite delicatessen where he ate a huge hoagie and I had a bagel. “When she goes back to Ireland it makes me miss England,” I confessed to him. “You forgot how much you miss it until you’re back.”

“I couldn’t imagine being that far from home.” His parents lived an hour away in Yonkers. He visited one weekend a month. His family was close in a way I had never seen with any other family. He didn’t have the happiest of childhoods, yet he still adored his parents.

“It hasn’t been home for a while. I’ve been in the States for almost a decade. It’s weird to think about.”

“Do you think you’ll live here forever?”

I said, “I think so,” but I didn’t really. I couldn’t imagine having children who have American accents. It’s a grim thought.

*

Womb launched on Valentine’s Day because Opal thought it would be cute and an excuse to say she had plans for the day as a single woman. We had a small party at George’s bookstore and on the tispy walk back to my apartment, Alex called me. I picked up the phone and squeezed George’s hand.

“Hello,” I said.

“Hey. I like your Womb.”

I snorted uglily. “You’ve been waiting to say. I can tell.”

“Low-hanging fruit,” he conceded. “But I do like it.”

(For the briefest of moments, I thought he meant my actual womb. I was a little slow from the wine.) “Really?”

“Yeah. How could I not? I like everything you write.” He was always sincere in the practice. He never strayed.

We were stopped on a street corner. “I don’t know. It means a lot coming from you. You know that.”

“You never fail to impress me,” he said. “You know that.”

I ducked my head down and hoped from the icy air to chill my burning red cheeks. I hoped to turn them pink from the wind and hide this secret of mine. “Thank you,” I whispered. Too pure to acknowledge above a whisper.

We listened to each other’s breathing. Then, the moment passed. “Well, I’ve got to head out.”

“Valentine’s Day plans?”

“Yeah. Just a nice dinner.”

“Have fun.”

“You too. Night, Janie.”

I put my phone back in my purse and laughed. I thought of how we both had wished one another to have a good lay. Oh, how far we’ve come.

“Was that Alex?” George interrupted my giggles.

The light turned green and we began to cross. “Yeah. How’d you know?”

He looked straight ahead. “You always talk different when you’re on the phone with him.”

“How so?” I crossed my brows, but I wasn’t confused by what he was saying. I knew how I talked. I knew how my tone toward Alex could be ever since Stacey teased me about it in our youth.

George shrugged. “I can’t decode it, but I can tell.” He put a smile on and looked at me. “Should we stop for dessert?”

*

I had a rubbish 30th birthday. I found another decade to be disagreeable. I didn’t think turning the big 3-0 would affect me so deeply and I don’t believe it really did. Really, the better part of three vodka martinis (it felt like an adult drink, okay!) and the aged rotten thought that I was too old to still be having nights like this was what ruined 30 for me.

On the morning of my 30th—a Saturday, the best day of the week to have a birthday—I indulged in the pleasures of a cigarette indoors. It was my gift to myself. George had a late night at the bookstore and decided to stay there, but we had plans for the afternoon into the night.

Stacey called me while I nursed a cup of coffee and I laughed at all her jokes about me being a sorry old cunt now. She was living in London with her boyfriend. She had a job as an actuarial analyst, not that I really knew what that was (or is). She had always been above my head in smarts, let alone in maths. When she laughed, I felt like a riptide had pulled me away from her. My joints ached in the non-arthritis way, and part of my soul cried, but I laughed instead because she has the most infectious laugh. You just have to hear it to feel it.

I decided to treat myself to a pastry from the corner cafe. My birthday was reserved for plump sugar delights that I would later find regrettable, but they tasted so sweet going down. While finishing off a cinnamon roll, I unlocked my mailbox.

I think one of the best parts of your birthday is getting mail that isn’t bills. Of course, there was still some mixed in with the handwritten notes. I had already received most of the cards early and they lined the shelf by the front door.

Fennel and Kaka had sent me one. Like most gifts from them, it was too much—a beautiful card I would get framed and $100. When I (lackadaisically) tried to refuse it, they insisted I keep and said sweet things about me being their surrogate daughter and then I cried because I was 30 and drunk.

With sticky fingers, I came across a blue envelope with that scrawl I knew too well. I waited until I was sitting on the middle of my bed to open it. I was delicate with it until I spotted 100 in big, bold red letters. The card’s print read, “At 100, you're still playing with a full deck, you just shuffle slower.”

I laid back with a giggle and no longer felt so painfully old. On the inside, he wrote, “Saw this and thought of you. I’m afraid we need a gin rummy rematch. My record is in dire need of repair. I hope to recover before we’re 31. Happy birthday, Janie. I think you’ll find 30 to suit you. Love, Alex.” In different penmanship right below was “& Taylor & Scooter.” She wrote it in a red pen, which I found mildly offensive from my days of failed tests and edited manuscripts, but the gesture was nice considering I had no clue when her birthday was or how old she even was. 

Scooter was her dog, which now seemed to be their dog, and to the untrained eye, it could seem like a family. I placed the card on my chest right beside my heart. I waited for the beating to calm or at least to get used to this uneven breathing.

I didn’t place the card on my shelf. I stuffed it into the bottom of my bedside drawer like it was a bad omen. The card would appear more guilty in my drawer, and yet I felt that’s the only place it could be placed. I didn’t want to toss it, for some reason, but I couldn't bear to stare at it.

Guilt. Guilt. Guilt.

It sounded itself every time my heart pounded against my ribcage.

I called George. He sang “Happy Birthday!” I placed my phone down on the bed while he did it. I waited until the faint sound of his singing voice had finished. “So,” he said, “how’s it feel?”

“30, flirty, and thriving,” I sighed.

He began to talk about our plans for later in the day, but I could only hear the beating of my heart. He was still talking when I said, “I’d like to get a turtle.”

“A turtle?”

“Yeah.” I grabbed my laptop for further research. “I would like a turtle for 30. I’ve always wanted one, and now I want to have what I want.”

“Alright, Veruca,” he declared.

I met George on Atlantic Ave where we grabbed lunch at French Louie’s, which is really just American food pretending to be French. There was a PetSmart down the street where I picked up Louie, my turtle.

Louie became my best friend in an instant. Turtles don’t tend to be viewed in the same light as dogs or cats. They aren’t affectionate figures, but that’s what I like. Louie felt like me. He swam around his tank and bit everyone’s finger except mine. I ate when Louie ate. Louie deserved everything, and I believe Louie thinks I deserve everything. He became a tracking device for me to take care of myself adequately.

But first, we had to set up the tank with the basking lights and filtered water. I had no issues doing this, but then again, George was the one who had to carry the tank up the stairs because I was in charge of Louie. When Louie was away swimming, I kissed George for all my thankfulness. 

Admittedly, it was irresponsible to leave Louie alone on his first night in a tank and I would not repeat this behaviour, but for his first night, he was left with plenty of care and the lights on. Louie doesn’t need me to take care of him. He’s always been a self-sufficient creature.

The plan was to have a rocking night. George had a friend who owned a bar in DUMBO and he sectioned off a corner of it for my birthday gathering. It wasn’t very many people because I was over spectacle but I still loved the thought of getting a shit pile of gifts for simply making through another year.

Nonetheless, all my friends were considerate with their gift giving and Opal had a friend who baked these delightful cakes because she has a friend for every occupation. It was a strawberry lemonade cake with a scattering of sliced strawberries on the top. I was spared of numbered candles, instead, there were just five candles on the cake because my birthday is on the 5th. I don’t recall what I wished for, but I hope it came true.

I sat in a corner wooden booth with Opal and Kaka. George and Fennel were talking to his bar owner friend, likely about the architecture of the building, you know, support beams and load-bearing walls, man stuff. The three of us sat with drinks in our hands and laughed at them.

My phone buzzed. It was a text from Alex that read, “Has your back gone yet?”

I wrote back, “No, but I’ve only had two drinks and I already have a headache.”

A minute later, he pinged back, “Just wait until tomorrow and the day after and after that. You’ll feel normal in about a week.”

I nearly wrote back what I perceived to be a witty comment on mixing drugs and alcohol but I was distracted by Mina taking a picture of us and I never wrote Alex back, which is probably for the best. The text wasn’t so funny in the morning.

On the walk back to my apartment, I dragged my feet and laid my head on George’s arm. He was too tall for me to lay it on his shoulder. He was taller than any guy I had ever dated and I was still adjusting to how he towered over me.

I was tired and it was only around midnight. I hadn’t slept well the night before—pre-thirty jitters. I was hoping to get an Uber or taxi back to my apartment since there were no subway lines from the bar to my apartment but George insisted it wasn’t very far and a walk would do me good. He wasn’t wearing heels.

I was tempted to ask him to carry me. He was my strongest boyfriend and I believe he could have sustained the eleven-block walk with me on his back. I didn’t because I was wearing a short dress and worried my underwear would show when he lifted me.

“I’m sorry for hanging all over you,” I said to him.

He squeezed my side. “You’re fine. You’re a lightweight.”

I laughed at the inaccuracy. “Just tired. You should have seen me in college. I drank more than anyone you’ve ever met.”

“You were a party girl?” He raised an eyebrow.

“Well, yeah, sort of. Aren’t I still?”

He shrugged. “I guess. Galas are different than house parties.”

I stood up straight. My hand lowered off his shoulders to his upper back. “Yeah. I was queen of the kegger.”

He looked elated by this, laughing with fervor. “Guess it’s the Brit in you.”

I took my shoes off the moment we entered my apartment. I tossed my body on my bed and felt like maybe my back had gone out on the walk home. “What did you do for your 30th birthday?” I asked George.

He was still by the door, taking off his shoes. “I went to Disney.”

I shot up in bed. “You went to Disney?!”

“Yeah. My girlfriend had family in Florida and my family flew down. We spent a couple of days there.”

“And did what?”

He was bemused. He filled up a glass of water for himself. “Went to Disney.”

“For a couple of days?”

“Yeah. It’s pretty big. We should go. I mean, we could even go to the one in California so you can see all your friends.”

“Why would I want to do that?”

“I mean, you talk about Alex all—”

“No, go to Disney. Why would I do that?”

“‘Cause it’s fun.”

“But it’s overrun with people and cheesy and I’m the most impatient person you know.”

He chuckled disingenuously. “Relax. I didn’t book any trips yet.”

“I’m tired,” I complained. I stood and looked at Louie swimming around his tank. I wondered if he was tired too. I wish I could swim. It was too cold in New York.

I wanted to go to England. I’m not sure where in England. Probably London with Stacey. My father was in Bath. My mother was between places. I know she briefly stayed at Greg’s house in Birmingham. Maybe I’d do a tour of England, everyone was so separated. Harper lived in Leeds. She had a baby in February, her fourth, a girl named Asha, who I had yet to meet. 

I was cold. We went to bed within the hour and I woke up the next morning with a migraine and that was 30.

*

I had little connection with Everything You’ve Come to Expect. I listened to it when it came out and I complimented Alex and Miles on it in a shared text. My favourite song is “Miracle Aligner” but maybe that’s because of Alexandra Savior and my fear of admitting I liked “Sweet Dreams, TN” or a deep relatability to “The Bourne Identity.” Both were too personal to Alex for us to discuss. 

So, later that month, when he called me to tell me Prince died. I said I liked “Miracle Aligner.”

It might be the only song from the album we ever discussed. When the music video came out about a month later, I told him I found it funny and asked why he was so tan, and that was that.

*

Baseball is boring. I don’t know much about any sport, but I know that’s true about baseball because even baseball fans say it’s boring. Not that I know many baseball fans. George liked baseball. He rooted for the Mets, which I thought was weird because I figured New Yorkers rooted for the Yankees but I don’t know much about baseball and I probably don’t know much about New York—the state.

We went to Citi Field for their first home game of the 2016 season. George, three of his friends, one of his friends’ girlfriend, and me. The friend’s girlfriend, Rachel, was 22 and finishing her last year at NYU. This friend was 12 years her senior and I found this to be quite Leonardo DiCaprio predatory, but she was nice and didn’t know anything about baseball either.

I sat between her and George, who attempted to teach me baseball, but I don’t like men explaining sports to you because it never makes sense and they always seem to have a way of explaining it in a misogynistic way. Besides, I’ve seen A League of Their Own.

George spilled his beer on me when a double hitter occurred. The sun was out but the day was cold and it left a chilly splash on the front of my shirt. I left to clean myself up and grab a hot dog. It was awful. I texted Alex, “Hot dogs at Mets game suck. Isn’t that baseball games’ thing?”

I went back to my seat and talked to Rachel for the rest of the game. I didn’t see any of George’s friends again but Rachel and I are still friends. To quote an immature man, “She keeps me young.”

*

When The Last Shadow Puppets came through New York, George and I went to the concert. After the show, we chatted with the Puppets and company, but we didn’t hang around for long. They were playing Coachella that weekend, so I don’t believe they hung around in the city for an endless bout of time. In the time they did, they spent with one another. The city had been where Taylor and Alex both once lived, so they went to all of their old spots. Either way, I got the feeling George didn’t want to hang around with them for hours and hours, so we said our goodbyes. The show was mighty lovely though.

*

Rome is beautiful in June. When I was 14, my family spent a month in Italy and San Marino, the latter for its casino. Our first week was spent in Rome, where I dreamed of falling in love with an Italian boy and moving to Italy. I didn’t find any Italian boys and a move to Italy doesn’t seem likely, but I did fall in love with Rome.

Villa Borghese is where I first felt struck and connected to nature. I sat on a fountain and wished I was able to draw something beautiful enough to capture the sight of the floral and fauna. I didn’t own a camera and my drawing skills were as bad then as they are now, but the sight has been committed to memory.

George and I revisited it on our first day in Rome. I took pictures this time and while it was still as beautiful as I remembered, I don’t believe the photos captured what my mind has. It was something only the divinity of the seeing eye can behold.

We did all the other touristy things too. George had never been to Rome because his family spent holidays going to places like Disney World. I guess I’m not one to talk. My family spent holidays going to booze-filled casinos but we did fit in a historical sight every once and a while. Plus, I got a nice tan. George said he always got sunburnt at Disney.

We were in Rome for a wedding. It was Matt and Breana’s, and while destination weddings are a lot of work to attend, they are the most beautiful to witness. I’m quite jealous of theirs because the venue was a near-beauty to that of Villa Borghese. But Matt and Breana did always have a keen eye in their photography, so wedding planning, especially with a nice amount of funds, isn’t hard to imagine.

I wore a nice pink dress and it was one of the few times I have been immensely thankful to be a woman because I didn’t have to sweat in a suit. George complained of the heat the whole wedding ceremony. I reminded him I told him to dress light and to shave before we travelled, but he did neither, which is fine by me because I was proven right in the end, as always.

I met their baby, Amelia, for the first time. She had this cute little dress on and these booties and I wish I could wear her outfit and get fussy in the middle of the ceremony too, but alas, that’s inappropriate for a 30-year-old. I thought age was just a number.

The reception was a nice big hall where my heels clicked on the tiled floor. Each table had flower arrangements as centerpieces that I would’ve stolen from if I knew the flowers wouldn’t die on the way home. The food was divine and others at our table were nice but kept to themselves, leaving me to mainly talk with George through dinner.

After dinner, I went to have a smoke and George accompanied me out into the gardens. I felt sorry for polluting the smell of the air but craving, digestion, and all the rest. He stood with his hands in his pockets as I flicked away. “It’s a lovely wedding,” he said.

I smiled. “Without a doubt. Thanks for coming with me.”

He threw his hands up like it was no big deal. “Who could pass up a trip to Rome?” He bought his own plane ticket, something I felt tried to insist against, but he said we’d make a vacation out of it. He’d never met Matt or Breana, but I had told him stories of my college days with Matt and how sweet, gorgeous, and funny Breana was. 

A smattering of people occupied the pavilion, and the sun was still out, though setting, when Alex and Taylor popped out with fancy glasses in one hand and holding each other’s hand with their other hand. They chatted with a few others before approaching us. Alex knew far more people here than I did and the way he moved through the crowd would give off the impression that he was the host. That he was the groom with his bride.

He stopped in his tracks and tilted his head back when he saw us as if we were in a Western and I was the villain and he was Clint Eastwood. He cocked a smile slowly, almost deviously. “What are you doing here? Popping out for a smoke?”

I laughed, though I didn’t know what I found funny. It was a vague impersonation of some television character I had no idea about; I knew that much. Alex has a tendency to pick the obscure. I felt he was referencing an inside joke I had been shut out of. Maybe because Taylor laughed vocally.

“Digestion,” I replied. George breathed a laugh. Alex and Taylor hugged us both. 

Taylor and I shared a look when George and Alex “bro hugged.” It was the epitome of girls sharing a secret language. We were passing a note to one another that women had done for centuries. Men are childish fools, and we girls, though on different sides of the exchange, are forever bonded by standing in the same position. I think Taylor and I would’ve been good friends had I met her before she met Alex. Or maybe it was our fate to stand on different sides of the exchange, sending secret messages with our eyes. A different language than the male one of bro hugs and dabbing each other up.

“You both look great,” George said. “Taylor, your…” he gestured to the top of his head. Taylor had cut her hair short. It was a little pixie cut, like I imagine a fairy’s hair might be. A Tinker Bell for the modern age. 

George had a typical male response, as if maybe her hair isn’t something he, as a man, should address. He sounded like my father after Harper had gotten a nose ring (her one act of rebellion). He asked her if she had something stuck in her nose, a joke she never laughed at no matter how many times it was told.

I stepped in, the woman explaining her man’s faux paus. “I like it a lot. I’ve always wanted to shave my head.”

“You should totally do it,” Taylor encouraged. “It’s quite freeing and so much more manageable.” 

“I didn’t know you wanted to shave your head,” George said. He had only known me with long hair, the kind that fell delicately on my chest in loose curls.

Alex knew. “Yeah, she wanted to be like Sinéad O’Connor.”

I shrugged. “I don’t know if I’ll ever do it. I think I’d miss my long hair too much. Maybe I’ll dye it blue or something. It’s pretty dull.”

“Ugh, are you kidding?” Taylor gushed, “I’d kill for your hair.” I didn’t find it to be all that special compared to hers. I’m a brunette with eyes that have been trained to admire bright blonde hair, Taylor’s natural gift. I’ll be envious of blondes until the day I die, but I’d look ugly with blonde hair. I’m sure of this due to my mother’s phase of blonde hair when I was 12. She looked like Kate Gosselin. 

An awkward silence fell over the group. I puffed away at my cigarette and waited for someone else to speak. I felt eyes on me but stared at the ground at the way my pink heels looked on the cobblestone ground. I decided to blurt out, “I still haven’t finished War & Peace.”

 I was greeted with stares. Taylor, obviously, had no idea, George had no idea why I brought it up, and, slowly, Alex cracked a smile before he laughed. “Have you even finished the first page?” He quipped. 

I bolded my eyes at him. “Yes. I didn’t bring it on the plane ‘cause I feared it would set me over the weight limit.”

His face was warm. I imagine somewhere back in his lineage, you would find the Sun. He was one-half star and it came out best in the first few days of summer when the sky shined in just the right way upon his face. “Are you guys heading back to New York after this?”

“No,” I sighed. “We’re paying a visit to my family in Bath. Stacey is coming in for the weekend and my parents have agreed to tolerate one another for one meal together. Oh,” I realized, “they’re getting divorced. I forgot to tell you.”

His face was split because the news was shocking…but was it really that shocking? It was the inevitable that neither of my parents had the guts to say it out loud. “Wow,” he voiced. “Never thought I’d see the day.”

“Kind of wish they did it earlier. Better late than never, I suppose.” We hadn’t included George and Taylor in the conversation for several minutes now. I turned to Taylor. “Back on the road after this?”

“We were in Florence before this,” she said. “I miss it already and then there’s Glastonbury in about a week.”

I nodded and I was pretty sure George wasn’t listening by this point. “Glastonbury is fun.” I almost brought up memories of when I was there in 2007, but it was too personal and too long ago to utter. I finished my cigarette and it was enough conversing for the rest of the night.

*

“You guys heading out?” Alex asked. He was alone and so was I. The hallway was mostly empty with the exception of a few people at the other end. He was headed to the bathroom and I was leaving it. There were many jokes I could’ve made about being in this position again but all were flirtations. Things that would get us naked.

“I think so. We’re both pretty tired and our flight is tomorrow.”

He nodded. His eyes were fixed on the floor. He felt so far away. A rift set in the middle. He took a step toward me and looked up. “Well, good luck with your parents. Tell Stacey a hello from me.”

I agreed to but never did. I think Stacey would have made fun of me relentlessly for any mention of Alex. She was a grown-up but will forever be an immature little sister. “Good luck on tour.”

“Thanks,” he muttered. We moved closer and hugged in jolted, jagged-end movements.

I had walked several paces before he called out, “Janie.” I turned and he stood right outside the men’s bathroom—a hesitation in leaving. “Take it for a ride. For me.”

*

It’s a miracle the beetle wasn’t broken down dead. I think my mother drove it to the grocery store sometimes but it mostly sat idle in the garage. My father barely knew of the presence of the car, and if he did, I’m sure he would have gotten rid of it. He didn’t care for things taking up space.

The inside of the car was barely changed from the 2000s. CDs were still filed in the center console, all of them belonging to my teenage tastes. While I drove around Bath, George looked through the collection. “Why don’t you just toss these? You could probably get a few dollars for them.”

“I like having CDs.”

“But these have been collecting dust in here. Who are Sugababes?” 

I chuckled but didn’t tell him all the memories that would explain why. “It’s the same as you having all those picture books in your childhood bedroom.”

“But I’m gonna give those to my kids.”

“Well, I’ll give these to my kids.”

He put the CDs back and closed the console, leaning back in his seat. “CDs are obsolete now.”

“People said it about vinyl and now it’s back and when CDs come back, I could probably be a millionaire.”

He chuckled. “I don’t think you’ll be a millionaire with your cracked Britney Spears CD.”

“You never know. I bought it on the day it was released. It could be a special edition.”

He shook his head, guying me. He began to search the glove compartment, filled with old napkins and the old car manual. “What’s this?” 

It was a paper that looked like it had been folded up a hundred times. It was wrinkled and looked like it was a blow of the wind away from being torn in half. The ink on it had endured water damage. The entirety of the paper was covered with pen markings, making it impossible to discern what it was without taking the paper close to your eye.

I pulled over to have a look at it. I laughed at the first notes I spotted.

J                   A 275             195

“It’s gin rummy scores,” I told him, though there was much more to it. “Alex and I used to play all the time. This must be from the winter of 2005 or something. An ancient artifact.”

The paper was covered in words that I had never seen before. They were explicit and things I couldn’t utter aloud to George. I found two that were suitable for the situation and read them to him. “‘Sometimes, though, angels smoke-in their sleeves. But when the archangel goes by, they throw their cigarettes away: This is what falling stars are.’” I was beyond impressed with the words and taken aback by the carelessness. “I wonder why he threw it away in here. I might steal it. Doubt he remembers it.”

“Don’t,” George said.

I looked up at him with a giggle. “Don’t worry. I’m not going to actually plagiarize him. Not that he’d care.”

He chuckled at me. “I’m sure he wouldn’t care. He didn’t write it. It’s Nabokov.”

My mouth formed the letter ‘o’. “That makes more sense.”

George, as a member of the literati, nodded. “Letters to Véra. Good taste.”

I looked back at the smudged-up page, recalling back to the books of years past. I folded up the page to act uncaring and stuffed it back in the glove compartment. “I’ll have to see if he wants it. I guarantee he doesn’t remember it, but maybe it has some secret code on it.”

We continued our drive. I showed him the sights I knew and we walked around a little. It was nice weather and we sat outside for lunch. We returned home a bit before dinner with my family, which was shockingly boring.

Later that night, when we were ready for bed, I claimed to have forgotten something in the car. I sat in the passenger seat and took the page out.

On one corner of the page, in tiny writing, he penned “Jane” like that was all he needed to state.

I was taken back to the icy feeling of January in Sheffield, parked beside Charlton Brook and thinking that was the whole world. The words on the paper imprinted onto the walls of my heart, etched themselves in the marrow of my bones, and tasted sweet in my mouth as I chewed away at them. “It's cold today, but in a spring way, and I love you.”

“I am a very boring and unpleasant man, drowned in literature... But I love you.”

I wondered if he still had the book and if these parts were underlined, accompanied by words and thoughts that associated him with me. If there was a possibility every time he saw this book he thought of the winter he spent reading it beside me. If he saw Nabokov on the spines on his bookshelf and thought Janie. It was toe-curling madness, but I read on.

“The thought that you exist is so divinely blissful in itself that it is ridiculous to talk about the everyday sadness of separation—a week's, ten days'—what does it matter? Since my whole life belongs to you.” 

“I love you, my sun, my life, I love your eyes-closed—all the little tails of your thoughts, your stretchy vowels, your whole soul from head to heels.” 

“Without you I wouldn’t have moved this way, to speak the language of flowers.” 

“Kisses, my love, deep ones, to the point of fainting.” 

And the one that struck me the most that had me lying awake that night: “I will love you tonight, and tomorrow, and the day after tomorrow, and still many more, so very many more tomorrows.” 

Awfully, befitting for this book and for me.

Then came a line that I knew was his creation (or stolen from an old joke book with a title like Witty Remarks for Intellectual Conversations): “Why did Shakespeare only write in pen? Pencils confused him: 2B or not 2B?”

I felt like crying, but instead, I was overcome by laughter and the overwhelming memory of that distant time. I still felt it, still sore in my muscles. I felt him all around. The memories felt so close to me that I couldn’t quite believe how long ago they had occurred. They felt as recent and vivid as yesterday’s venture.

On the other side of the page, there was more writing with lines scratched out so harshly it almost ripped a hole through the page. It was nearly all unreadable, besides a handful of words that were written out, “My mouth hasn’t shut up about you since you kissed it. The idea that you may kiss it again is stuck in my brain, which hasn’t stopped thinking about you since well before any kiss.” The rest was more nonsense for me to pine over. Silently.

*

I only seem to like the beginnings of things. The thought of that has terrified me to an unbelievable degree for most of my life. The start of the school year would seem so sweet, but then around October, I felt like dropping out. Every idea felt like a form of genius at the first line, but by the second page, I was a failure, a fraud, and a phony.

I cherished the getting-to-know-you stage. I like mastering each nook and cranny of a person and then I discovered the petrifying knowledge that they were getting to know me too. When I was younger, this made me change into a mysterious being, or at least try to. 

Most people didn’t care to pull back the layers anymore. The rare person came along, and when they saw the center of me, it felt impossible to let them go because then I would have to expose myself to someone else to fill the void they left, the center they scooped out like a ball of cantaloupe. 

I believe you invent people in your head. Everything is perspective and I will never be viewed under the same light that I view myself. For some occasions, I am thankful for this, but I know I don’t get to control the narrative, no matter how much I write and spew my own view of things out into the world.

One night, on an early September night, I was struggling to write. I had to contribute a piece to Womb. I had neglected it for most of the summer and needed to have a piece of work in the September issuing. Opal comes from the fashion world, where Vogue’s September Issue is the Bible you swear upon.

It was still hot in the city. I cracked open a window and allowed the midnight breeze to try and penetrate the sweat. The cursor blinked at me and I felt like my brain was being cooked. When I had previously had these rots, I called Opal, but she had already heard from me that night, and we were in the middle of a spat where she was right and I was wrong, so I didn’t want to get another whiplashing from her or to ruin her night anymore.

George was at a friend’s bachelor party at a billiards club, which I thought was old-fashioned guy stuff. I thought about writing about that, but it was a stupid idea. I barely know anything about pool.

I won’t delay further like I was trying to delay the inevitable that evening. I called Alex.

The tour had finished about a week before and I hadn’t seen him since the wedding. I wouldn’t say I was avoiding him (though I did notably choose to go out of town the weekend they played Terminal 5), but I didn’t confront the matter either. We texted him about the Olympics and I called him when Gene Wilder died and we quoted Young Frankenstein insistently to one another.

That evening, he didn’t pick up when I initially called him. I considered the night awash for writing and decided to go to bed, but then he called me back before I could brush my teeth. “Who died?” He greeted me.

I slumped back in my desk chair. “No one. Do I have to kill someone to talk to you?” 

“No, it just worries me like Pavlov’s dog or something. You’re the bell that beckons death.”

I snorted. “Well, don’t go on associating me with the Grim Reaper.”

He could hear his smile in the quiet hum of his voice. “What’s up?”

All roads lead back to Rome and I’m stuck on the wishful thinking path. It’s filled with the autopsies of conversations from years ago. It took me too long to muster a reply and when I did I sheepishly said it like I had been caught doing something I shouldn’t, which probably was true. “I can’t think of anything to write and I’m a step away from throwing myself out the window.”

“Don’t do that,” he chuckled. “You’ll probably only break your legs.”

“I think my brain is fried and I wouldn’t care so much, except I’m letting Opal down by not writing anything. It wouldn’t be the first time but I’m trying not to be such an arsehole friend anymore.”

He sighed and whatever weight he was taking off by doing it was shoved onto me. I felt burdensome and the phone felt too heavy in my hand. “I wouldn’t be much help,” he said. “I’ve got nothing to write about either.”

I groaned. “Lame.”

“Call it empathic.”

I scoffed. “Men aren’t supposed to know about that.”

“You’re very difficult; you know that,” he joked. “You could always read War & Peace. Find some inspiration there.” 

I looked at the tome gathering dust on the floor beside my bed. “The only thing it’ll provide me is strained muscles.” My eyes trailed up to my bedside table and I thought on the other book hidden away, the one I hadn’t told anyone about. “I’m reading Letters to Véra now. You read that years ago, right?”

“Yeah. It’s good.”

“When we were in Bath, George found a sheet you wrote all these quotes from the book on. It’s been sitting in the glove compartment for a decade.” The confession felt like sacrilege. I had brought another man into holy ground.

It’s hard to predict Alex’s responses to these discoveries. I was timid and resisted revealing it to him for months. I figured he’d escape the notion of it too, instead, he breathed out, “Jesus. I forgot about that. There’s probably all kinds of shite like that tucked away somewhere. Whoever lives in your old bedroom now is finding scraps all over the place.” The knowledge that there was other scripture like this just lying around somewhere made me even hotter. Like he had just scattered his love around like Hansel and Gretel through the years, waiting for me to find my way back.

“Well, I have this one, if you want it,” I offered.

“You keep it,” he told me. I wanted to see his face. It was hard for me to read the situation. “It was supposed to be for you anyway.”

It made my head spin. I was almost certain I had to have taken some drug before this conversation. I felt dizzy and faint. “It had gin rummy scores on it too.”

His laugh sliced through the silence. “I’m sure you kicked my ass.”

I wish he could see my smug smile. “Up by nearly 100.”

“You should write about that,” he suggested.

“Gin rummy?”

“All those little things. I find that writing about Sheffield can be a good palate cleanser. Returning to the days of youth.” He hesitated, still trying to work out the thoughts that ping-ponged in his mind. “I don’t know what I’m saying.”

“I know what you mean,” I reassured him. “I know.”

*

I wrote a piece and stuffed it away in a drawer. It was about college, Alex, and smoking. It’s the first section of this book.

*

The following morning, after sleeping on my sullied writing, I decided to reach back further in the days of Wakefield. It was about a trip to the shopping centre I took with my mother when I was 11. We were looking for a dress for my year 6 leavers ceremony and she made me try on all these different dresses until I found one I fell in love with, but she didn’t like it so she ended up picking this scratchy old dress. It might be small, but I still think about that dress. I thought about it long enough that I couldn’t stop writing, and thus, I began my next book.

*

Christmas was coming. The first snow fell halfway through December, but it didn’t stick, just leaving an ice fog. George had spent the night at my place. We stayed huddled in bed and decided it was best for him to stay simply because it was too cold.

He cooked bacon while I showered. I had a towel wrapped in my hair when he handed me my coffee and a plate of cooked pig belly with some berries on the side. We ate at my tiny kitchen table and talked about the weather. Then he said, “It would probably just be easier to live together at this point.”

“Yeah,” I thoughtlessly said while chewing away.

“And my place has more room and is right above the store. It’s in Manhattan too, which seems more your scene than Brooklyn.”

“Yeah. I think so.” It was going over my head. The bacon was really good.

“We could do it in the New Year.”

I squinted. “Do what?” He stared at me. “Move in together?”

“Yeah.” He smiled.

“Oh.” I hate myself. “But I like my place.”

“It’s nice, but you’re always complaining how you wish you had more space and—”

“How would I have more space living with you?”

“I at least have a wall between my bed and kitchen.”

“But I would be sharing all that with you now.” It was a pointed comment. It was obvious my concern wasn’t over having a new roommate but who that roommate would be.

He began looking crossed. “What’s wrong with sharing?”

“I like having my own space,” I reasoned with a half-truth.

“Well, we could make space for you at my place.”

“Your place.”

“Our place,” he corrected.

“What’s wrong with my place?”

He laughed at me. “Nothing’s wrong with your place. But, come on, let’s pull the trigger.”

I rolled my eyes like a bitch. “How affectionate.”

“Jane.” He was scolding me.

“Let me think about it.”

He nodded, and we went back to eating, but this time in silence. He finished his coffee and decided for us. “You’re not gonna move in with me, are you?”

“I don’t know.”

He sighed. “Don’t kid me, Jane. At least give me that.”

“I just like having something of my own.”

“Okay.” He looked around. I feared he was X-raying the apartment and seeing all the things I was hiding. Then he stared at me so strongly I thought he’d burn a hole through me. “We’re never gonna go to the next step with me.”

“I’ll allowed to think about it.”

“No, I mean like we’re not going to live together or get married. All those dreams you told me about with the garden and your husband cooking you dinner, that’s not me, is it?”

I didn’t know what to say. “It could be.”

He shook his head. “It’s not.” He was soft and he broke my heart because I knew I was breaking his. “It’s okay.”

We finished breakfast and we talked about our individual plans for Christmas. When our plates were empty, he stood up and kissed my cheek. “I hope you come do an event for your new book.”

I nodded, and then he left. I cleared the table and did the dishes.

*

a/n: i'll try and figure out how to include pickles in the next part. it might be a bit before the next part because a) it'll be longer, b) i want to try and write something else in the time being to clear out my long list of in progress works, and c) there's not that many years left of this and we must cherish every second. thanks :)

[thewardenapostate]

Idealism, and a Soft Heart in a Cruel World

I was recently rewatching clips from Everything Everywhere All At Once (2022), and this quote in particular reminded me a lot of a discussion to be had regarding Alistair and his idealism.

Now I’ll be the first to admit that I believe there are areas of growth for him as a character— his idealism being one of them. And it’s not so much that having idealism is inherently wrong, but rather part of maturing is learning to balance both your ideals with your pragmatism.

However, when thinking about this quote, it sort of helped contexualize part of the reasons why I feel Alistair is so idealistic— and in turn, made me see a different perspective.

One of the first things I noticed about Alistair was how highly he spoke of three specific things: Arl Eamon, The Grey Wardens, and by extension Duncan.

As a player who is privy to meta-gaming knowledge, I found it interesting that Alistair would continually justify his treatment at the hands of Arl Eamon, and even go so far as to say how good of a man he was. This was directly contradictory to what we learn of how Alistair was treated, as well as comments made by characters regarding the Arl.

In addition, we see Alistair holding Duncan and the Grey Wardens up as paragons of virtue; this, however, is more understandable simply because they provided Alistair his first sense of belonging.

In Dragon Age Inquisition, we see a Warden Alistair defending the Grey Wardens up until the very end— even when they’ve essentially banished him from the Order because he dissented against the use of Blood Magic. When it’s revealed that the Grey Wardens had a direct hand in the Divine’s death, Alistair insists that it was just a mistake— so much that Hawke calls him out on it.

Why would Alistair go to such great lengths to seemingly justify behaviors by those around him? Is he really just naive and foolish?

I’d argue that instead of it being because Alistair is foolish, it’s more that his way of thinking was born as a means of survival. Hope, and the hope that others can change, is a tangible thing that can motivate us to persevere. Alistair’s soft heart has made him vulnerable at times, and yet it’s been the way in which he has been able to navigate the challenges of this world.

And there’s the rub, isn’t it? We see someone like Loghain, who abandoned idealism and hardened his heart in favor of pragmatism— and while that made him strong in some ways, it also made him unable to exist in a changing world.

The reality is, we all have different ways of approaching life— especially when it is cruel and unfair. And while no one way is inherently correct, there is something pretty powerful about being able to maintain a sense of hope and optimism despite everything.

[kukuandkookie]

You know, I somehow followed you and have been seeing your posts without ever realizing you loved The Myth so much and it’s one of the dramas I absolutely cherish because I watched it as it was airing around 2010 with my family MGNSKFHS.

Unfortunately it’s been so long and because I was a child without a good grasp of Chinese or the Internet and it wasn’t like dramas were easily accessible back then, I only remember bits and pieces of this one, including some of the romance stuff, a major betrayal, and part of the ending, etc…

But I’ll definitely have to rewatch it someday. 😭

I’m honestly still shook though that you like The Myth so much (to the point it’s like your favourite time travel drama?) because it’s not like you ever see anyone talking about this show in the west, and that I simply had no idea despite following you for so long!

Anyway I can’t offer anything of value about the show right now because it and Beauty’s Rival in Palace are shows I remember watching as a child, but I do want to say…I’m glad to hear this one holds up so well and that it wasn’t just my nostalgia—and to hear it made you cry so hard you threw up is really crazy but impressive to hear… I remember you also liked the novel Erha, and that made me cry so hard I was almost wailing at one point, so man, imagining how this drama might fuck me up again, especially considering all my nostalgic fondness for it…oof ahaha.

Call it masochistic, but I look forward to it when I find the time to indulge in it again. 🫡

PS: Also maybe this is sacrilegious and likely because I’m biased from nostalgia but I genuinely liked the drama’s version of “Endless Love” more than the movie!:

PPS: As a fun fact I recently learned, there was this super amazing statuette made of porcelain of the princess in the National Museum of China, and it was based on the cdrama version!:

You know, I really really wanted to get emotionally fucked up.

So, here we go, The Myth (2010), the sole drama where I cried so hard I threw up.

Xiao Chuan (Hu Ge) is a modern day freelance photographer who ends in in Qin Dynasty China. Not as a transmigrator or anything, no he is just plopped down in the middle of the execution in progress. From there on, for 50 episodes he proceeds to have his soul, heart and body taken apart. By the time the drama ended, in one of the most horrifyingly bleak endings from anywhere I've ever seen, I was just numb.

The first few eps (until the plague hits, it's this kind of drama), are actually rather funny and can lure the unwary into thinking this will be a fun romp. Or do they? Here we are at ep 1, long before the slide into grinding, inexorable destruction of everything Xiao Chuan holds to except his integrity and we get a giant sign of what this is going to be like if only we paid attention.

He's in the middle of an execution of some enemies, real or imaginary, of the Qin Dynasty, and the befuddled officials not only immediately jump to the conclusion he's there to interfere, a bad guy etc etc, but they breathe past the questions of how he got there and who he is (and even what he is), to "we should execute him, whoever he is, because we get paid more for each supposed traitor." I mean, think about it - they wonder if he's a god or demon and then decide it doesn't matter, they will just add him to the kill tally for prizes. This is an arbitrary, bloodthirsty theater of cruelty, controlled by nothing by power and greed - the good guys (insofar as there are any, they are few and far between) do not win. A lot of evil is not done out of a grand design or plans to rule the world but petty greed or just boredom or lack of care. The government is portrayed as made in the monstrous image of the monstrous Qin Emperor and inscrutable in anything but bloodthirstiness and self-interest.

The censors would never let any of this fly now - this drama really is a criticism of absolutism as much as anything else (corrupt officials do not get punished; they get rewarded) - but oh God, what a masterpiece it was.

[lordofmelancholy]

Arcane: Silent Frontiers: Mylo and Ekko

It’s a personal thing cause I don't really like his character, but I often HC that Ekko actually doesn’t like Mylo all that much. And it shows greatly in Silent Frontiers.

The reason i don't care for Mylo too much. . . is because he reminds me too much of people I went to School with. The mean comments and everything. And the thing about the fandom is they often say that he’s just a kid and too cut him slack. Except when you get bullied a lot growing up, you learn that kids like Mylo never tend to actually ever stop on their own. They just keep going and they keep going until they FINALLY stop but usually that’s because someone makes them stop.

Growing up, Mylo always had a need to impress people, but this often manifested in the typical behavior of a older individual ragging on the smaller and weaker then you sort. Growing up this behavior was usually directed at not only Jinx but Ekko as well. But when it came to Ekko alone it was often to a much lesser extent because Little Man knows about potential jobs and scores him the occasional deal at Benzo's. However, unlike Powder, Ekko most certainly did not take as much of the jabs as Powder had done, absolutely biting back and having his own quips to Mylo way more often than Powder ever did at that age. However growing up Ekko became protective of Jinx, which means he probably also had grown up hearing what Mylo and others had to say about Jinx but because Jinx is Jinx, she’s probably also told him to just forget it and he has for her sake only. But sometimes he hears things and they make him mad

And we all know Ekko has a temper

In the weeks following Isha’s death, Ekko and Jinx had cut themselves off from everything and everyone. No one saw them. No one heard from them. And the only people who ever really knew that they were actually still alive were Benzo and Scar. They went into a period of mourning so strong that people don't see them for DAYS or even weeks. They hibernated so far from eyesight, hid so well that even the creatures in the Zone couldn’t even find them

Now in Silent Frontiers, in a effort to boost moral amongst those in the Lane Zone, the firelights, Ekko and Jinx (Mostly Ekko and Scar) took over what would have probably been the Last Drop, which in the end became like their little getaway. Because the one thing about Jinx and Ekko is that they have a LOT of "hideaway" spots scattered throughout the Lane Zone that's essentially their way of getting AWAY from people. When the social battery is drained, they're insanely good at hiding away to recharge and chill with one another.

When they don't have time for people at all, they don't let people have any of their time

When the time came and they finally did reemerge who knows how long after their period of mourning, the first place they went was to the last drop, to the VIP section in the back where the two of them could just relax and stretch their legs without anyone bothering them

After all, they had just lost their baby. They lost their world. It only made sense that they didn't want anyone else to come close when the sky itself was collapsing right on top of them whilst they try and figure out what their next move was.

But most importantly going to the last drop was simply just a way for them to enjoy each other’s company in a sense of vague normality. To try and march through the day's as if nothing had changed.

However, with normality often comes other things. And one of the major ones is the fact that if you want things to be normal, then you have to deal with certain things that are common place.

One thing such being, is that certain people can’t keep their fucking mouth shut even when everyone else around them tells them too.

When Ekko and Jinx went to the last drop, Mylo had already been there with Claggor and a few other "friends" of theirs and was already on his way on being under the table. While everyone else gave Ekko and Jinx a wide berth when they had randomly shown up one night, unable to bring themselves to bother the pair, Mylo on the other hand is antsy, loud, boisterous a down right nuisance. But Ekko and Jinx are used to that. Mylo often has even less of a filter when he’s drunk and it's nothing they haven't dealt with before, so it's easy to ignore for the time being. They've done it plenty of times before after all.

But when Ekko walks out of the VIP lounge for a second to head to the bar, it’s noticeable that Mylo is flapping his jaws in a way that obviously is turning everyone's mood sour.

And that’s when Ekko finds out why.

Because Mylo is making digs at Jinx once again, at least that’s what Ekko think's he hears. He doesn’t really hear much, all he see’s is the sour faces of everyone, the roar of music playing on a stereo system and Mylo drunkenly swaying about, making wise-cracks to anyone who would listen and it’s very obvious whatever he’s saying no one wants too hear.

Even Claggor, so often used to this behavior, seems like he's trying his best at curbing his friends antics, often throwing uneasy watchful glances at Ekko as he comes by and Ekko for a moment doesn't know why even Claggor seems so unnerved. If Mylo is making cracks at Jinx again it's nothing that Ekko probably hasn't heard already. Same if the cracks are presented against himself. And if they are then he doesn't really care at the moment what Mylo has to say.

At least that's what he thinks. If that was all Mylo had to say then he would have indeed have left it alone. Had left Mylo to stew in his juices and booze until he got tired out like he always did. After all, Ekko did never throw him out all the other times this had happened What was family for after all. . .

But then. . .Mylo says something.

Whatever it was. Whatever it is. Ekko did not know for sure at first, did not hear it clearly but the faces around them, even Claggor's suddenly looked shocked and appalled by whatever it was that Mylo had to say. And they all suddenly turned to look at Ekko when it finally registers what Mylo had said And it’s the utterance of Isha's name from slurred, alcohol tainted lips that makes the world around him dark.

He hears voices, hears his name, people calling for him, trying in vain to convince him to just calm down, to just relax, that Mylo is simply just drunk and just flapping his lips and that he shouldn't hold it against him. But Ekko had always grown up hearing that.

He’s just a kid

He doesn’t mean any harm

They're just jokes

All excuses for his behavior. Everyone giving him an easy pass to say whatever he wanted.

But Ekko doesn’t hear excuses. Not any more

All he hears is one thing

CRUNCH

and something soft collapsing under his fist.

When the world finally stops being dark, someone’s holding him up from under his arms trying to pull him back, someone else is shouting at him to stop because He’ll kill him if he doesn’t

(Ekko Stop it!)

(You idiot are you trying to kill him!)

But then the struggling is over and he calmly looks around. For a moment, he doesn't seem to understand where he is. He looks up. All the people in the bar are staring at him. They’re all quiet.

Seemingly suddenly afraid of him.

And that's when Ekko looks down at his hand, clenched in a fist. And his knuckles are bloody, the skin is torn and raw, and blurry just outside of his peripheral, he notices that Mylo’s on the floor not that far from him; the barstool he was on tipped over and his face around his cheek and nose all bloody. He's holding his face as blood blooms between his fingers, spilling in between the gaps of his hand in quick, hot drops.

The fight in Ekko stops for just a moment. He’s panting. He test wiggles his fingers. Trying to check and see if they’re broken or anything. And there’s a sting under his skin but they’re fine. Nothing seems broken. Same can’t be said about Mylo though, who while still drunk, curses sniffly at Ekko from where he lays on the floor about what the fuck is his problem. Ekko goes to hit him again, but Claggor and Scar step in between them, trying to keep the situation from escalating any further

And thats when Ekko realizes. . .that Mylo looks scared of him almost, despite the slurring and cursing and sniffling. In fact. . .everyone does. .

Everyone knew Ekko had a temper. Everyone also knew however that Ekko was protective and did his best to keep his temper in check. But they just never realized just how far he was willing to go to protect what was his.

Even if it means harming one of his own. Something he never did before.

He had never rose a hand against family. . .until now. Ekko had scared him, solely because Mylo had never expected this

excepted retaliation where there use to be none

But Ekko doesn't say anything. He doesn’t offer apologies, doesn't try to placate the situation. What he says instead is simple:

Mylo is not allowed at the bar anymore. Ekko is officially banning him from the premises. And in doing so, Ekko also states that if he ever hears either Jinx or Isha's name come out of Mylo's mouth again that he'll blind him first and deal with the consequences of doin so later.

And its a threat said so clearly. . .so icy calm despite the absolute blackout-out of body experience that Ekko just had, that it actually scares Mylo into silence for just a moment, finally forces the loud-mouth to quiet and forces him to turn his bloody face down like a scolded dog. Just long enough for Claggor to pick his idiot friend up off the floor and drag him out before Ekko could loose his temper again when Mylo tries to interject for just a second.

When things quiet down, Everyone's staring at Ekko (afraid). Wondering what he'll do now. But despite everything. Despite the blood on his knuckles dripping on to the floor, Ekkos smart under pressure, and he's quick on his feet, and states Free Drinks for the rest of the night if no one utters a word about what had just happened.

And thats enough to turn the attention else where. And when that happens Ekko is quick to spin on a heel, despite Scar calling for him and head back to the VIP lounge.

He hears Jinx's voice when he opens the door, and she's questioning him over what had just happened

But Ekko doesn't respond. . .

He instead just notices that his hands are shaking.

Jinx doesn't have to ask again. Doesn't have to do anything more beyond look at him, truly look her lover up and down. See the shake of his hands, the trembling in his shoulders. The thousand yard stare within his eyes speaking far more vividly than any word he could say, if he could say.

Jinx doesn't wait for him to respond. Doesn't have too. Her own heart aches, her own throat tightens despite the gulp she attempts to give it. There's no softness in her posture, no affectionate warmth in her pursed lips. She is as tense as he is shaking, yet her eyes are knowing and sad and they are entirely on him.

Stiff as she is, when she finally approaches, she does not ask him again. Does not attempt to say anything, to scowl at him for hitting Mylo, to soothe and coo at him to ease the shakes.

Nay, Jinx walks right on up in front of him. Looks him directly in the eye. And then wraps him in the tightest cling of a hug she can.

As they both lament quietly about their situation.

_ _ _ There's never any easy way to cope with loss. To cope well.

Losing a kid is hard enough. Losing your kid is almost impossible to take well, in any sense, in any capacity. But losing your kid the way that they did… they're doing well enough to even go near anyone. Yet how sad it is, that they finally show back up around something close to civilization, and immediately there's just the urge to go right back into the wilds. . .

_ _ _ @dreamyrainland

[castlebyersthoughts]

I wonder if vecna is going to taunt Mike with his love confession to El. I feel like since that was the last big thing we see of milkvan it would make sense to breakdown that moment before they have their breakup. What if Vecna turned into El and said “YOU LIE. You don’t love me. I know what you really wanted to say. I know who your heart really beats for.” Or something not vecna related happens before the time jump where El says something about his heart/love confession and it starts to get broken down from there. I just feel like even though people hated his love confession and found it super cringy people will still remember it as fact after they breakup and I don’t want anyone to still be like “wait…but like didn’t he say he loved her why are they breaking up?” For byler to be able to properly grow El can’t be hurt by the breakup. I think it needs to be mutual. She can still be a little upset that it’s over but happy that they’re still friends. He can maybe try to explain himself then about how he was going to say one thing at the pizza place but they got interrupted and then it wasn’t really the time to say it when all hell broke loose. He just wanted to save her so badly that he said what she wanted to hear. Maybe El could say “I thought I wanted to hear you say it or that I needed you to.” Maybe similarly at the end of s3 when she first said it to him and it made him realize something, maybe it did a similar thing for her now when he first said it after all this time.

I completely agree with the fact that the monologue has to come up and be explained in a way in season 5 if they go through with Byler. Those are great ideas for it.

For the Vecna vision thing, I'd love something like that, but I'll be honest: as time passes, I'm becoming less sure that Vecna is even going to taunt Mike at all. I feel like at this point he's definitely more connected to El and Will but also Max, possibly Nancy, and now Holly. I don't really see the writers making him have some kind of relationship with Mike as well, but I'd be happy to be wrong!

I feel like Mike's internal conflict will be handled in a more human, as opposed to supernatural, way. Like him talking to Robin, maybe Vickie, and figuring things out. He's also probably going to be having multiple conversations with Will, yes some about Vecna, but not only, especially if they live together in the Wheeler house as I think they will.

In the end I feel like Mike and El need to have a big talk where they go over everything, for them as characters, and for the audience to really understand what the Duffers were saying with that relationship (if they want it to be crystal clear, but I could also see them wanting to leave some ideas in subtext only). Ideally they would go over how they got into that relationship too quickly, how they both tried to make it work when it obviously wasn't, because they simply didn't know any better, and how they confused their deep bond for romantic love because that was what was expected of them. (A scene like this would be great as the --don't read this if you don't want to know about leaks-- rumored baseball field scene, as baseball is a sign of forced conformity, and even forced "straightness", in the show). And yes, Mike needs to explain whether he intentionally lied during the monologue (I personally don't believe that was the case) or whether he thought he was saying the truth but didn't realize he was confusing other feelings (protectiveness, deep affection...) for romantic love. Or they can even say that he truly did love her but he's learning to let go of this relationship as it just wasn't right for either of them, and he realized now that Will was the right person for him all along. That could work too.

As for what you said about El, I believe she won't be hurt by the break up because when it happens she'll already have arrived at that conclusion herself (is that sentence even correct? English isn't my first language lmao). As I said in my reddit post, I don't believe El is in love with Mike in season 4, I don't even think she ever truly was. Nothing in the whole season makes us believe that, except for the fact that she wrote "Love" on her letters... which were full of lies. Hmm. I totally agree with the fact that when she got what she wanted, hearing "I love you" from her boyfriend, she realized it wasn't what she needed after all. But after that big love declaration from Mike, how could she have the heart (lol) to say something? She's probably gonna keep going through the motions with Mike because it's easier, or maybe she's still not realizing that this isn't real romantic love. They're probably not even gonna be spending that much time together anyway due to the fact that she's in hiding.

I do believe that if El learns about Will's feelings for Mike, and sees what true unconditional romantic love looks like, she would absolutely realize that what she has with Mike isn't that and they shouldn't be together in that way anymore. I could see her explain this to Mike, saying that she used to need him to tell her he loved her for the wrong reasons (because she thought she was unlovable/a monster) but her confrontation with Brenner changed her as she realized she wasn't the monster, and she was so relieved to reunite with Mike in the desert but she was now in a different place. Once again, she experienced personal growth during her time away from Mike. For the record, what I think El was going to tell Mike at the pizza place was something like "Mike, it's okay. It's okay if you don't love me, it doesn't matter anymore", and this could've led to an amicable break up. But this is a TV show so this shit has to be dragged out into the last season, preferably with a lot of drama, and make us lose some hair in the process.

That was a lengthy answer oh my god, sorry for blabbing so much. Thanks for the ask!