#oc: patrick summer

[koushirouizumi]

(My Digi-Advs Inter-national Chosen Child O.C. Shane's profile is up!)

{These are re-done profile pages for a revival of my 02 web-shrine!} [Which will include profile pages for my O.C.s still actively in use!]

(Shane originally didn't have one at time, so Shane's page is new!)

[cloveroctobers]

THE STRANGERS: SINNERS ON COURT

A/N: the point? I’m highly disappointed with the new release of the strangers and the summer is the perfect time for the horrors and THAT was just not it for me. I’ve also been strongly debating if I even want to dip into writing for challengers since it’s very layered but also MESSY and who wants to flop if you drop something but you don’t know unless you try right? So here’s me serving something since chapter 1 gave us…not much? I’m blaming the writers and not the actors ofc so they need to hire me for chapter 2 ASAP. So this is for my horror and challengers lovers I guess! I might have to do a trilogy myself depending how this turns out.

In short: Challengers meet The Strangers.

WARNINGS: mostly oc x art pairing with a hint of Tashi x oc! Language, slow burn/slow start? Slight graphic violence + animal brutality?—Not overly described but hinted + a LENGTHY read!

SYNOPSIS: Andromeda, “Andra,” Cove has always been the secret double to Tashi’s game even when Andra claims that is far from true. Although their friendship has been on and off since Andra transferred out of Stanford…everything always comes back to the court. Andra seeks out Art’s company to attend her grandfather’s birthday party back in her hometown in Virginia Beach not expecting Tashi and Patrick to show up as well considering the confirmed secrets the three have recently spilled. After the events at Andra’s grandfather’s birthday party, the four decide to take a trip up to Andra’s cottage to get reacquainted but soon find three more guests at the door who release nothing but terror that surely ruins the weekend.

.ೃ࿔ ✈︎ *:･.ೃ࿔ ✈︎ *:･.ೃ࿔ ✈︎ *:･.ೃ࿔ ✈︎ *:･.ೃ࿔ ✈︎ *:･.ೃ࿔ ✈︎ *

“I just remember the knife plunging into him and the amount of blood that spluttered from his mouth as they flung his body to the floor…” Andra hears the intake of her breath before she continued, “his eyes still locked on me as if—as if he was imagining during his last moments what our life as a married couple could be like and I couldn’t help him. I couldn’t stop them from hurting the man I wanted forever with. They took that from me and I still feel that knife, shoving its way through my body every time I think of him. My forever husband.”

The host of the podcast speaks now, “Not long after Maya honored us with this virtual interview, she was found brutally murdered in her shared home with her late fiancé, Ryan. The case of the road-trip lovers still remains unsolved till this day.”

A nudge to Andra’s bare upper arm makes her flinch, bringing her back to reality as she glances to her right to see her good friend, Art Donaldson staring at her, freshly awakened from his nap. Andra allowed him to be her passenger princess since he had to take two flights to get here, which she was thankful for.

After he received more frustrating than devastating news: that Lily was biologically Patrick’s, Art fled to London to take a much needed break from his two opponents. Art held Lily so tight and even thought of taking her with him but had no energy to fight Tashi who made little noise at his departure. She knew he would be back. Andra received a text from Tashi before Art ended up calling her and it was so laughable that Tashi acted like she had everything so figured out.

[~From: Tashi Duncan.

I fucked up and it’s finally caught up…you’ll probably be hearing from Art soon. I know you’ll do me a solid and watch over him for me, won’t you Meda?

Purposely leaving Tashi on read, Andra didn’t engage in a conversation because not even three minutes later, Art was in fact calling her phone—which led to a two hour call.

“What the hell are you listening to?” Art stretched his arms back around the headrest, a frown in between his brows.

Andra glances at him while rolling her stiff neck around in the driver’s seat, “A true crime podcast…about this couple that ends up having to stay in an airbnb and they basically get slaughtered by three sociopaths in creepy masks.”

Art squints, “and you feel that’s appropriate for us who are currently on the road alone surrounded by nothing but trees in this hillbilly state?”

“Hey! You wanted to see the cottage. I was—

Art interrupts his old friend, “Don’t say perfectly fine staying with your mom and step-dad because you and I both know you can’t stand those bastards.”

Which was not untrue…

Andra’s mother was big on living up to “the Cove,” name and felt that her daughter was the biggest disappointment (compared to her older brother Ahmed) although she kept a tight smile on her cheeks when speaking about Andra to family members. Andra’s mother’s side of the family came from a lineage of historians and archaeologists and Andra’s grandfather was also a well known tennis player in Ethiopia. Half of Andra’s mother’s siblings were also in the athletic field, her mother was once a gymnast and even made it to the Olympics multiple times until she suffered a severe neck injury on her third attendance ultimately ending her career—you can just guess how well she bonded with Tashi more than she ever did with her own daughter—later becoming a athletic sponsorship director.

Andra laughs with a nod of her head, “yeah, you’re right.”

Art hums already being aware, reaching for Andra’s phone pausing the podcast to search for a playlist for this late night morning drive. “This is a mood killer…no pun intended so I’m switching this but rest in peace to Maya and Ryan.”

You’re resting your head back against the headrest, eyes focused on the road, “You’re lucky I’m getting tired and don’t want to argue with you since there are rules such as: Driver always gets to pick the soundtrack.”

“So you were listening to this to scare the shit out of you and keep you awake?” Art states with a curious glance at the braided haired woman, “pull over and let me drive the rest of the way then.”

Andra twists her lips around, ready to debate on that since she loved her “little,” coupe and actually loved being the designated driver. When she transferred out of Stanford, she may or may not have gotten into illegally racing a few cars for extra cash, after her mother put a hold on her card until she declared a new major that was satisfactory enough to her. If anybody needed a ride and fast then Andra was your girl…just try to keep that on the low, although it was public record.

A yawn ripped through her lips before she can even stop it. She didn’t even want to dare a glimpse at Art who now sat up with a fold of his arms. He was being such a dad and Andra found this funny, laughing to herself while Art patiently waited for her to say something.

“You’re too cute, Art.” Andra tells him, lolling her head to peek over at the now dark haired blond, “looking like a scolding parent as if I didn’t get enough of that at the beach.”

Art sighs at that.

For as long as Art’s known Andra, she’s always been this humorous vibrant personality but it only ever shined when she stood on her own. It dimmed a bit whenever Tashi took over and Andra made herself small enough so her own mother wouldn’t find something to pick at but that never did her any good. Andra only came out here to celebrate her grandfather, since she was never sure how many more years the old man had left in him and he was much softer on her than the way he treated her mother, which was a cycle for what Andra endured. Her step-father refused to see it, comfortable in his rose colored lenses while she also often had a bickering relationship with her brother, Ahmed who claimed she played the victim game whenever their mother said something that basically teared her down.

It was a tale as old as time.

Andra thought inviting Art out here was to mainly help him wrap his head around what he was going to do and it would be good to see each other face to face after all this time but turns out it was him being by her side that made things a little easier.

“What do you need?” Art decided to ask, keeping his eyes trained only on her.

Andra chewed down on her bottom lip as she whispered, “…for you to drive.”

Art dipped his head at this, waiting for Andra to pull over to the side. They unbuckled their seatbelts and Art was out into the night while Andra climbed over to the passenger side with her fallen over zip up hoodie. Shutting the door behind him, Art adjusted the seat with a small teasing smile at the bronze skinned woman who scoffed at him in return.

Before he switched gears he says, “for what it’s worth…I think you’re brilliant at whatever you do and the only thing that matters is what you’re comfortable with when you look in the mirror. Be proud of that.”

A watery smile goes his way and Andra lightly reaches over to shove his shoulder, “you’re disgustingly sweet and I’m glad you’re in my life.”

“I love you, you know that?” Art sends a lopsided grin back.

Andra breathes, “I love you too.”

And that keeps Art warm in the sixty-five degree summer night. He runs his fingers over the door and cracks the window open, allowing the air to brush against the side of his new do, loving to hear the sound of that. It felt good to hear sentiments being reciprocated verbally and Andra never had a problem letting it be known. The pair connected in that kind of way, the whole words of affirmation was huge in the way they wanted to be loved and can always count on each other to be so reassuring.

“Now how many more hours do we have to go?”

Andra who’s balled up on her side, peeks at her glowing phone that was plugged into her car informs, “just a hour and nine minutes.”

Art puffed out some air as he switched gears, then checked over his shoulder before pulling back onto the road, “It’ll be sunrise by then so…hopefully a gas station will grant us with it’s presence and we can fill up, grab some shitty coffee or energy drinks and be on our way to your fancy cottage.”

Andra rolled her eyes, “it’s nothing compared to your California barbie dream house.”

“Please,” Art snorted, “it’s far from that and just a place to lay our heads and raise Lily in…” He clears his throat, “it’s just a house.”

Andra knew Art was still coming to terms with it all. He already went off about it and what he thought marriage should be despite spending years in one. Art claimed he wanted a divorce but the next thing Andra knew, Tashi and Patrick were showing up without her invite. Art didn’t invite them necessarily but he did let it slip to Patrick where he was over texts and that he didn’t know when he was coming back. Art needed some time and he always felt like there was never enough in this world.

The next few moments consisted of Andra dozing off, her phone buzzing with notifications as Art got off the next exit after driving nine miles and headed to the gas station. Art grabbed his own phone, tempted to wake Andra but she looked so at peace with some much needed sleep. He quietly exits the car and makes his way to the dingy gas station, greeting the grunting old man with the Santa Claus beard at the counter before searching their inventory. Art decides against the coffee that has a few dead flies floating at the top and circled back to the fridges.

Once he finds the little that he wanted, he slides the objects onto the counter at the man with the unkept beard. A small smile graces Art’s lips in a attempt to be friendly but the man doesn’t budge.

“That’ll be it, thanks.” Art urges as he holds open his wallet, also hoping to get the strange man to get a move on so he can get out of here quickly.

The man grunts, reaching forward from his spot on the stool to bring the few items closer to his view before he slowly starts punching them into the register. Art’s patient as the man takes his time and before he can start looking around his gruff tone comes out, “that’s a pretty one you got out there, don’t ya?”

Art blinks, easily picking up at what the man is hinting at and chooses to ignore him, “I’ll need some gas too. $25 on pump three.”

The man hums to himself, reaching over some more to punch his dirt stained fingers into the buttons although his eyes keep darting out the window. This time Art follows the old man’s stare but only to check on Andra to see that she is still in fact asleep on the passenger side.

“Y’all not from around these parts are ya? Headin’ north might not be the best choice ‘round this time of year.” The man tells Art who feels his brows coming together in a frown.

He wasn’t concerned about how the man can figure out if he was from here or not. It was the same as visiting any place and Art’s been to many considering his status. It was what the man, Walter (according to his also grimy looking name tag) said afterwards.

“It’s a week before the holiday, I think we’ll be okay but thanks for caring.” Art keeps his calm, small smile still on his lips as he pulls out two twenty bills, noticing the: CASH ONLY sign, “keep the change and you have a nice upcoming morning.”

Art doesn’t bother engaging in more conversation, shoving his wallet back into his jogger pocket, and scoops the items into his arms; not asking for a bag either. Art half expected the man to latch onto his wrist and deliver another unsettling line. This time Walter just goes back to being silent and Art’s not sure which one was worse, as he steps away and exits the store.

The pinging of his own phone, doesn’t stop Art in his tracks as he continues back to the coupe. Opening the door, he dumps everything into the driver’s seat for now before moving quickly to the nozzle. The minutes feel long as Art darts his gaze from the changing numbers on the pump, to Walter’s stare from the store, and back to Andra whose body gently rises and falls with each breath.

With a click, Art brings his attention to the nozzle to place in its original space, then moves the drinks into the holders and tossing the few snacks onto the floor by Andra’s sneakers on the floor. He searches the glove box for some sanitizer, but no amount of alcohol can erase the internal feeling of something going wrong.

Art laughs to himself as Walter holds up a hand in their departure, feeling that he was just being paranoid since his nerves were already out of whack way before he got to this state. Art shrugs it off once the gas station is no longer in sight and feels his phone ping some more.

“Not now, Patrick.” Art bites with a scratch to the back of his head.

He doesn’t have to look at his phone to know that it’s Patrick. He’s been the main one sending texts at all sorts of times since Art left the country. Art was already irked before but now that he brought Tashi to impose on his time with Andra was just another thing to tick off the list. Andra was great at distancing herself from the two and was always vocal on her distaste for Patrick but this was still a process for Art.

You can only be on the court by yourself for so long according to Art Donaldson.

Andra Cove strongly felt different.

“Hey,” Andra’s raspy voice is followed with a grasp to Art’s shoulder, catching him off guard which makes her widen her half lidded eyes at his flinching, “…everything good?”

Art scoffs, “what? Oh yeah! I just thought southern people would have the best manners.”

Andra clenches the tiredness from her eyes, trying to comprehend what the blond was saying to her, “…what happened?”

“Don’t worry about it,” Art says, “take a look in the holder, I got your favorite.”

Peeking at him with one eye, Andra glances down at the yellow bottle and reaches for it with a smile that splits over her lips. “Pina colada Fanta? I can’t believe you remember that.”

“How can I forget? You talked about it all the damn time back at Stanford and would throw a fit every time the campus never had it.” Art briefly looks at the woman from the driver’s side.

Andra laughs as she squeezes it to her chest before placing it back in the holder, “appreciate you, bub.”

“Sure,” art replies, “try not to chug it all down for breakfast later and then complain about a tummy ache afterwards.”

“Are you this bossy with Lily?” Andra questions while getting ready to roll her body to face away from Art again.

She freezes a bit, wondering if it’s a sore subject to even mention the child’s name but Art just shakes his head with a snort, “I’m actually the fun parent, believe it or not.”

“Oh I do.” Andra’s turned back to the window again, reaching a hand back to squeeze Art’s thigh in comfort.

He watches Andra’s hand: her gel nails a combination of a summer orange sunset and magenta. Her pretty fingers are inked with delicate designs and Art finds that her touch radiates a warmth that he’s not used to. A touch that is gentle but firm enough that lets him know that perhaps this gloom season doesn’t have to last forever.

There’s some instrumentals playing throughout the car now but Art doesn’t seem to mind it. Andra’s hand is now back to her own lap as she catches up on another round of a nap and Art is left to his own thoughts and this horrible energy drink that tastes like battery acid.

“Jesus,” Art mutters to himself as he feels himself gag balling a fist up to his mouth, in hopes of settling his stomach on his own.

He glares down at the drink momentarily before his eyes connect with something in the road, which makes him tap on the brakes. They squeal some, which makes Andra pop up in bewilderment, hood to her hoodie sliding right off.

“Damn,” Art comments as Andra grips onto the dash, leaning forward to get a good look at what’s in the road.

Andra sighs, “it’s a deer.”

“Yeah but…it doesn’t just look like roadkill.”

The way its head is bent back is unnatural along with the amount of blood that stains the gravel. There’s traces of glass the decorate the ground which indicates it could have been hit, which was not uncommon. It was the way that both sets of eyes locked on the deer with squints in their eyes that they noticed multiple wounds on its backside that appeared blunt and not accidental.

Andra exhales, her side eye going to the sides of the car before her hands went to check that the doors were locked, “nope. Art, if you don’t float this shit, then I will.”

The glance Art shoots Andra’s way, confirms that twisting feeling he felt back at the gas station. He crosses his hands over the steering wheel, turning the car to go around the deer and picks up the speed just as the navigation system speaks telling the two which direction to continue in.

That was enough to keep Andra awake for the rest of the drive.

6:46AM

The old friends are pulling up to the Olive green and white cottage. Equally they both rest their heads against the seats, just measuring the amount of energy it was going to take to collect their things and bring them into the home.

“It’s nice.” Art compliments while Andra who rolls her head to meet his tired stare with her blank one, “what? I’m not bullshitting you, honest.”

“Uh huh,” Andra answers as she grabs her Fanta staring at it a bit with a smile, “c’mon Ken, let’s get inside before the bugs start chomping.”

Art teases with his own nickname, “can we check our surroundings first, Belle? I’m getting some red flags?”

It was the way he actually had a rose by one of his own personalized nicknames for Andra in his phone—the only one with a emoji by her name truly—that reminded Art of how much he missed their friendship.

“Is this more about the Santa Claus cashier or the stabbed up deer?” Andra asks with her hand on the door.

Art scratches at his brow as Andra’s phone dings, “uh…both?” He muttered while she deeply inhales, eyes going to the phone she was about to leave behind in the holder. Pulling it free, she unlocks the phone and reads the message with a scowl.

Holding the mic on the bottom right of the device, she speaks into it, “thanks for letting me know last minute, dumbass. Send.”

Shoving the phone into her hoodie pocket, she meets Art’s eyes, “Ahmed gladly let me know that the front porch light is still broken from the last time he snuck up here to use my place for who knows what.”

“I’ll take a look at it, just set a reminder.”

Andra nods, quickly doing so before pushing the door open followed by Art. He breathes in the fresh air which smells of pine and salt from near by water. It’s quiet besides the light chirping from some birds and there’s not many cars near by at Andra’s neighbor to their left.

“The Triplett’s come here in the winter months, they’re Minnesota natives if you can believe it.” Andra informs as she swings the strap of her duffle bag against her shoulder and moves the seat back into place.

Art nods, “so what you’re saying is…we’re actually alone?”

Andra shrugs, “that’s kinda what the cottage life is all about, babe. Don’t worry though, that’ll be ruined once your two favs decides to grant us with their presence.”

Art watches as Andra slams the door, leaving Art behind as she crosses the pathway towards the front porch. He’s scrambling a bit now, grabbing his own bag and locking the car. He jogs up the steps just as Andra is unlocking the door. “Did I mention that I’m sorry about that?”

Andra fans her hand as Art steps into the home, being met with the grand view of the water out back. She’s locking the door behind him and then responds, “you sure did but nothings changed.”

She hoist the bag on her shoulder as she breezes by that, “alright little house tour since it’s still early and we could both use some more sleep. Dining table is here, kitchen in the corner, sitting area to a pretty great view is up ahead with the best deck in this sleepy town right beyond those doors, bathroom is right by the last set of sliding doors leading out to the deck, and your room is right around that wall. Around from there is the actual living room and my room is upstairs. Please keep your shoes by the door.”

Art breathes out a laugh, “if I didn’t know that you were once a careless tennis athlete who chose cross country instead—out of all things—then went on to sports journalism later turned kinesiologist, I’d say real estate might be your true calling.”

Andra rolls her eyes with a laugh, “thanks for the whole run down of my résumé, you’re a great guest so far.”

“Oh, you haven’t seen anything yet.” He winks as he moves to start unlacing his sneakers while Andra shakes her head, moving towards the couch with her back to the sliding doors.

She jokes, “I’m not on your salary so I don’t have a personalized chef or anything—

“Shut up, Andie.” Art playfully aims his shoe at the braided woman who grins at him with a wink, “I don’t need that special treatment shit, especially when it’s going to be over by next year anyway. I already know I’m gonna be taken care of by you.”

Since Art got his friendship with Patrick back, he seems to believe that he’ll be retiring soon and he wasn’t anywhere near forty just yet.

She shrugs her shoulders, “…all depends on how good of a guest you are.”

“I think I’m the best you’re gonna get…compared to your brother anyway.”

“Don’t even get me started on his bobble head!” Andra yells before continuing, “Now I have to check the house to make sure he didn’t ruin anything and try to hide it but at least he was honest about the light. The bare minimum! Please let me know if anything seems off in your room?”

Art laughs a little, knowing just how much Andra went at it with the older guy. Art never had any issues with Ahmed, he had an award winning smile and was definitely a charmer. The only thing Art didn’t get was why he didn’t have his sister’s back when it came to their mother? Probably because he got all the credit of being the “good” kid and didn’t want to ruin that but that was selfish. Art didn’t know what it meant to be a sibling but he figured it should be some sort of union, even if you had to Duke it out from time to time.

Blood was supposed to be thicker than water is what they say.

Art was an only child so he’s always been on his own but he felt like his late nana was the closest thing he’s had as true family.

Art zones back in on Andra stepping back into his view, “…what I was meaning to say before my mind goes all over the place is the kitchen should be pretty stacked although we’re only going to be here for a day or two. I had someone make sure of it so we don’t have to make any special trips but if you want to later—

“Andie,” art calls out to her making her blink and realize that she’s talking a lot, something she does when she’s stressing or needing some rest, “we’re good, get out of here.”

Her hands are on her hips now, “Are you trying to bully me, Donaldson?”

“No?” Art blinks.

“That’s what I thought. See you in a few hours and holler if you need anything.” She starts to walk off but Art follows her.

“…you do have weapons here right?”

She glances at him over her shoulder, “duh, who the hell do you think I am? Oblivious?”

“…what’s your middle name again?”

“Good night, art!” She waved her fingers in the air while Art is smirking.

“It’s morning!”

“Then tweet, tweet, bitch!” She calls back over the wall before she disappears and heads up the stairs.

Art can’t help but to let the bubbled laughter fly past his lips, heading to the right where the bedroom is waiting behind the sliding barn doors. Dumping his bags on a near by chair, he plops down on the side of the bed, resting his hands on his knees as he soaks in the stillness.

Flinging his body sideways to lay down, after staring out at the view for some time, he pulls out his phone to see a few texts from no other than Patrick.

The most recent says that Art’ll be seeing him and Tashi by the early or mid-afternoon at the latest, depending on when Tashi was ready to go. All Art did was like the message, placing his phone back on his belly before he closed his eyes.

Art is awakened by the stench of food and the goosebumps that decorate his skin. Rubbing at the new texture on his skin, he pushes himself up into a sitting position and peeks through his slumber eyes to get a sense for what time it is.

11:52AM

He gets to his feet, rubbing at his eyes and leaves his phone behind face down on the bed. Leaning in the doorway he looks both ways before stepping out onto the dark wood floor and heads back towards the front of the cottage. He spots Andra immediately facing his direction in the kitchen, leftovers of a sandwich in her hand while she’s sipping at some sort of smoothie.

“Morning sunshine, how did you sleep?”

Art leans against the counter from the opposite side and grins, “like a baby.”

“See the magic of this place yet?”

“I still need some convincing…maybe the last bite of that sandwich will help?”

“Oh you mean this one? That’s full of grease and has the potential to clog arteries? Aren’t you an athlete?”

Art gives a straight face, “doesn’t mean I can’t have cheat days and when did you become my trainer exactly?”

Andra pops her lips at the taste, leaning forward to mockingly toss the rest of the sandwich into her mouth.

Art leans away from the counter, “alright, okay. Your hospitality actually sucks and I rate this establishment zero stars.”

“You can’t chop me.”

“I just did.” Art states matter of factly as he starts making his way into the kitchen.

Andra scrunches up her nose, “always such a little baby! There’s one waiting for you in the toaster oven and I’ll be reporting this to the blogs.”

Art argues, “And you’ll be hearing from my lawyer.”

“Classic answer,” Andra circles around Art now in her flowy white skirt to plop on the couch dramatically with a hand tossed against her forehead, “I thought you said you loved me, Arthur?”

“Oh c’mon, not the whole government name drop, Andromeda!” Art drags out her name around stuffing his face while Andra laughs laid out on the couch.

He preferred “Art,” over his full name any day and that’s what everyone’s known him as before he even made it big. That of course didn’t apply to his own parents who felt it was foolish to call their son by a nickname rather than what they gave to him at birth. They were less hard asses than Patrick’s parents but when it came to titles that’s where he and Andromeda related.

“I’ve been added to the group chat thanks to your side piece.” Andromeda waves her phone in the air.

Art takes her leftover smoothie and plops down beside her, sipping at and ignoring her raised brows, “what side piece?”

“Mickey mouse.” Andromeda tells as she shows the dark blond her phone, “Patrick says him and Tashi are now on the road so we should see them around 2 at the latest.”

Art slowly finishes chewing, elbows on his knees as he’s in thought, nodding at this information. He can’t exactly say he’s thrilled to have them here—as bad as it sounds considering 1/2 of the pair consists of his wife but he’ll keep that to himself.

Andra sits up then, shuffling to sit thigh to thigh with Art as she nudged his shoulder, “Take a minute and get ready, I’ll be outside enjoying the sun until I give you the rest of the tour.”

He questions with a lopsided grin, “there’s more?”

“Always.” She flashes her teeth at him, leaving Art to peer down at her lips briefly before she turns her head to look at the waterfront for a bit, leaving Art to analyze the profile of Andra’s face. The little chocolate chip mole by her hairline of her straight backs is something he always found cute no matter which way she wore her hair. Just like her finding the spec of honey brown on the side of his dark blue hues in his right eye.

She gets up, using his shoulder for leverage before she breezes by him smelling like caramel, peonies, and pink pepper—a mixture of many scents that matched her body chemistry quite well. Art lets out a long sigh, leaning back against the couch after she slides the door closed but that doesn’t stop him from watching her walk across the deck to sit pretty on the wicker egg chair.

Some time later Art makes his way out to the deck, freshly changed and dressed for the remainder of the day. He meets Andra out on the deck, leaning over it just as she’s getting off the phone.

“I don’t care when you bring it, Ahmed. All I know is that it better be back here by the time I come out here again. Yeah, yeah. Bye!” Andra ends the call while there’s amusement on Art’s face while he takes a spot right next to her.

He glances at her before looking back at the view, “are you out here tearing your big brother a new one?”

“Nooo, what gave you that idea?” She’s sarcastic although her smile is as sweet as can be.

She spins to rest her elbows on the banister, eyeing Art’s appearance. He meets her stare, raising his brows in question as she says, “The facial hair is a good look on you. What’s next? Growing your hair back out?”

Art snorts, “nah, I think that’s over for me. Too much maintenance.”

Andra hums as she waves him along, “let’s see the dock…wait did you put your sunscreen or bug spray on?”

“Uh no?”

“Not on my watch, Donaldson.” She charges right by him to the egg chair, coming back with a dropper, “hold out your wrists.”

“What is it?” He asks but complies as the oil is dropped right on his skin.

“Now pat it against your neck and ankles then finish with your wrists.” She instructs, “the mosquitoes are devils by the water and hate lemongrass.”

Art shakes his head with a smile, “whatever you say, mom.”

“That’s okay, clown me all you want but you’ll be thanking me by the time we’re inside for the night, free from bites.” She pats his waist on her way by to put the dropper back.

Together the friends make their way down the set of stairs to the lower level. They walk across the grass where Andra points to their left, showing where the shed is full of equipment for water activities.

“Paddle boarding?” Art quizzes as he caressed his facial hair, “I can’t picture it.”

“What? I can’t have other hobbies?” Andra asked, hands on her hips while staring at the man underneath her eyelashes.

Art shrugged, “course you can. I just remember a certain lake party where you were lounging by the lake instead of being in it.”

Andra shields her eyes from the sun as she turns up her glossed lips at the memory, “I’m surprised you remember that when you had your tongue down Divinia Alonto’s throat.”

“Did I?” Art inquires, “I was honestly so worried about my new friend not having a good time.”

“And keeping Patrick from getting his ass beat by one of those guys that’s probably a linebacker now.” Andra chuckles as she leads the way up the small hill towards the dock.

The air is warm just as the light breeze while the two travel some more together. It was funny thinking about it all, how Andra became acquainted with the pair, first watching them at the US open since she was visiting Ahmed who recently moved out to Queens, New York. She would later end up at Tashi’s match a week later, sitting on the bleachers not far from Patrick Zweig and Art Donaldson. She ended up introducing herself to the two prior and congratulated them on their win just for Patrick to invite her to a lake party they were attending that night.

Andra said she would think about it just as her pink LG chocolate phone was ringing. It was Tashi. Art even took it further to round off a number Andra can reach them at, leaving her to just stare at them in amusement.

“Aren’t you gonna type that in? Or do you need me to do it for you?” Patrick attempts to flirt but Andra just peers at him from underneath her oval purple and black glasses.

Andra laughs, “I’ve got it but if I need someone to lift a finger for me, I know just who to call. Later.”

“Later.” The boys echo as they watch her walk away.

“She wants me, dude.” Patrick leans back into Art’s shoulder as they both watch her hips sway, doing a signature spin while answering the phone.

“Yeah right, in your dreams!

“Hey,” Art speaks, his eyes were off to the right, “you never mentioned a court.”

Andra deeply exhaled as they both face it now, “that’s because I try to forget it every time I’m out here. After I purchased this property, my mom made it her mission to have one put out here as some sort of gift to me? Honestly it feels like torture porn to me but I shut my mouth and never use it.”

Art turned his eyes into slits, “if you don’t use it then somebody definitely does. What do you get up to out there in Alaska?”

It still shocked Art to hear that Andra settled out in Alaska these past few years. Of course she still traveled all over working with the most popular athletes, this he knew because he seemed to get the runaround whenever he mentioned her but Tashi deemed it as Andra still holding a grudge with her cutting Andra off after she transferred.

Art believed it was possible but eventually they reconnected instead.

“Lots of things,” Andra answers, “but you’d have to come out there and see.”

Art hums, “that another invitation?”

“As if you need anymore.” Andra looks at him and he holds her stare.

“…I think,” he starts as he leans towards her a bit, “I’d like to see if you still got it.”

Andra scoffs, “I don’t need to prove a damn thing.”

A smile twitches onto his lips, “sure you don’t but we’ve got nothing but time?”

“And we can enjoy that time by the dock underneath the sun. I know you like to get a little tan for the summer.” Andra argues with a cross of her arms.

Art rolls his eyes, “if you’re a chicken shit just say that.”

“If you wanna see me in a skort just say that.” Andra fired back, standing on her toes a bit to match his height.

Art presses his tongue into his cheek, looking off to think about it, “fine, you caught me! I’d love to.”

And the way he’s speaking to her makes Andra bite her bottom lip and Art knows he’s got her. He’s smirking as he tries to reach for her folded arms in attempt to hug her but she playfully slaps his hands away and points at him in warning.

They’ve worked up a good enough sweat on the indigo blue court. Art’s serving with the ball at the neck of the racket before he sends the ball over. Andra has no issue matching Art’s rhythm, he’s found his spark again but Andra knows he’s been tired of professional tennis. It just took him much longer than it did Andra. She knew right from the beginning that it wasn’t her sport although she was phenomenal at it.

It was a shame really because it seemed effortless. So causal she swung but it was always fast, her brows remained turned inward while the rest of her face remained calm despite the usual routine of pulling her bottom lip underneath her teeth. Art is so lost in the swing of things, picking up on Andra’s own tics that he tries to go for the ball at the last minute. Andra pulled another one of her moves, almost like a ballet twirl spinning just as she smacks the ball back to Art.

Stretching his arm just too far, Art hisses as he feels his shoulder sting almost like static radiating down his arm followed by a burning sensation. Andra sharply inhaled, eyes widening as she tosses the racket to the side. Moving around the net she’s down on her knees as Art lays on his back panting.

“Hey,” she speaks touching his shoulder which he lightly grips, “Let me.”

Carefully he moves his fingertips out the way, choosing to stare up at the sky for a while as Andra feels around. Art groans as she touches just at the crease of his armpit, surrounding by his old wounds.

“It’s a muscle spasm,” Andra informs as she digs her fingers along his skin, “breathe through it, Art.”

He pinches at the bridge of his nose, doing as instructed and croaks out, “my shoulder stood no chance, I should have known, you still got it and do that famous spin of yours.”

“Whatever,” Andra dismisses, “now look at you, all messed up, old man.”

Art huffs, “well I wouldn’t pick anybody else to look after me.”

Andra shakes her head with a small smile as she raises Art’s shoulder while still pushing back at the stubborn spasm. When Andra shakes his shoulder out to help relax it, she goes to raise it again but he’s sitting up now with a wince. With one hand he slips against the small of Andra’s back, making her inhale as she looks over at him.

“Am I hurting you?” She softly inquired, quickly checking in but Art shakes his head.

He’s pushing her to his lap and whispers into the summer air, “Never that.”

Before his lips are placed right on her’s.

Their noses are smashed together as their lips work together. Andra makes the move to grip Art’s jaw, tilting her head to deepen the kiss. He rubs at her back and squeezes her hips, matching her speed as if time is all they had.

Abruptly she pulls back, holding her lips while Art peers at her in alert. His eyes are even darker now but the spec of gold in that one eye is bright.

It’s such a pretty sight with his lips pink and panting.

“Art…what was that?” She questions behind her hands.

His hands don’t leave her frame as he breathes, “that was something I wanted to do since I hugged you for the first time in years at your grandpop’s party.”

She tilts her head at this news and moves to sit beside him against the hot court, “You’re married, Art.”

“I don’t think Tashi knows that.” Art mutters while Andra sighs.

“So this is about revenge?”

Art shakes his head, “no. It’s about finding what’s missing and you’re it.”

They both lock eyes and Andra doesn’t realize she’s leaning in until Art is kissing her again, pushing her back onto the court which burns her bare back in more ways than one. She hisses and Art pulls away and sits her up immediately as he cups her face, “…can we go inside?”

“I thought you’d never ask.”

Their grins are wide as they scramble to their feet like two old friends secretly up to no good. The excitement was real, doing something that most would frown upon but the pair were not the only two that moved to their own drums.

Andra’s helping Art remove his shirt, he playfully whines more than needed as she pulls it over his aching shoulder but reveals he’s just messing with her and it’s not anything he can’t handle. His hands find comfort right on her ass, pulling her lips right back to his as he lays back against the couch. It’s when he starts bucking his hips against her’s after she slips her tongue into his mouth that Art knows he’s in trouble.

“I’ve missed you, Andie.” He tells her as she presses kisses down his neck.

She pulls back, “how much?”

He managed to flip the two over, sliding his hand up her leg brushing her white skirt all the way up as he presses his front against the only cloth that’s left covering her. “That much.”

“Then I think we need to fix that, don’t you?” She quizzes, holding his face in her hands again.

His lips are pressed to her’s and she nips at his bottom one and just as he’s reaching to shove down his own pants, there’s knocks at the door.

Both of their gazes turn to the door and Art sits up.

“Special delivery!” A familiar voice screams behind the door.

Art clenched his eyes shut while Andra sits up on her elbows to pull her skirt back down.

“Sorry,” Art kisses her cheek while Andra just secured the satin pearl colored tie around her braids before handing him his shirt back.

Art can already see Andra closing up and he hates to see it. She waits for him to fix his shirt again, this time with the tag in the right place, and wipes the gloss from his lips before making her way to the front door.

Yanking the door open to stop the pounding at it, she spots a grinning Patrick with shades on leaning against the door. “Mickey! You don’t have to kick my door in to announce your arrival, we can hear you from up the street.”

“You sure? Didn’t want to startle your quality time, sweetheart.” Patrick clicks his teeth with a wink as he leans forward to smack a kiss to her cheek before squeezing his way by.

Andra yanks Patrick by his backpack and scowls at the back of his neck, “Take your shoes off in my house, asswipe.”

“Yeah, whatever you want. Got it.”

Andra steps onto the porch now, spotting Tashi with her phone pressed to her ear pacing back and forth. Patrick snickers as he makes his way over to Art, arms held out ready for an embrace but Art just gives him a side eye before choosing to move into the kitchen.

Tashi lifts her head just to meet Andra’s eyes on the porch. They watch each other, Tashi half expecting Andra to send her a Princess wave like old times but she doesn’t. Once Tashi starts crossing the lawn towards the steps is when Andra turns her body to lean her back against the front door. She sees Tashi’s mountain of bags resting on the porch and raises her brow at them.

“Hey,” Tashi greets shortly as her heels click against the porch.

Andra dips her head, “Hi, Tash. Have a nice ride up here?”

“I never would have picked this hick town for you even if it’s part time, what were you thinking?” Tash asked as she begins moving her bags into Andra’s home herself.

Once Art comes over, he silently grabs the last bag to bring in before putting space between him, Tashi and Patrick.

“I was thinking, my money, my choice.” Andra replies as she closes the door.

Patrick lets out a low whistle, arm stretched along the back of the couch, “easy with the claws ladies.”

Tashi glares, “Shut the fuck up, will you?”

“Don’t start.” Andra warns the dark haired man who just shrugs, peeking over at Art with his tongue out in silent laughter who’s shaking his head at him.

Tashi surveys the cottage, heading to the waterfront view while looking left and right. “So what’s the sleeping arrangements?”

“Art’s on this level, I’m upstairs, Pat and you can have the couches.”

Patrick bounces on the one he’s sitting on now, “cool.”

“Right,” Tashi snorts, “So the room with the barn doors? Got it.”

Andra sends a look to Art who just moves the tension from his jaw. Tashi picks up on this and says, “what have you two been up to?”

“Yeah! It’s a nice set up you got here, Andra! I’m sure there’s plenty and nothing to do.” Patrick’s fishing but they’re not taking the bait.

Art decides to change the subject, “have you two eaten?”

“We stopped at that one place for breakfast before we left but I’m always down to decide what’s for dinner.” Patrick admits while Tashi rolls her eyes.

The now blonde haired woman brushes by Andra, “I’m going to bring my things into the room while you guys figure out how to entertain yourselves.”

Andra follows after Tashi as she’s going back and forth, bringing her things and arranging them and Art’s things. Andra sits on the edge of the bed waiting for Tashi who raises a brow at her. Art lets out a long exhale as he listens to the door slide closed and Patrick gets to his feet to place his backpack on the floor. Stretching his arms above his head, he moves towards the wall where the front door is to mess with the record player.

“Just make yourself at home, why don’t you?” Art mutters to Patrick as he flicks through some records and picks a random one to place down.

Patrick shrugs, “what am I supposed to do? Just sit around and wait for you to talk to me?”

“You’re lucky that Andra even opened the door.”

“What is this? You finding a new team member to replace me? Don’t forget that I’m always your number one.” Patrick leaves the needle off as he burns his stare into Art who’s resting his hands on the counter.

“Are you fucken serious right now? No way are you saying that to me when you did what did behind my back, again.”

Patrick rests his hand on his chest, “you’re acting as if I knew, which I didn’t, and what we’ve been over already! I would never try to take Lily away in the first place, I’m fine being uncle Patrick and I’ll still love her regardless.”

“Well shit, thanks for your permission!”

In the room, Tashi has now taken a space on the bed, arms crossed while Andra stands in front of her. “…Do you really think being here smothering him is the best choice?”

“Smothering?” Tashi scoffs, “Art fucked off for two weeks and he folded right into your arms. Whether you like it or not, I’m his wife and he’ll always need me.”

“Tashi…you had him believing that lily was his—

“She is!” Tashi exclaimed, “you honestly think Patrick would be a good father and god forbid a husband? They’re not children, they’re men and should start acting like it. Those white boys wouldn’t be shit without me and you know it, which is why you walked away.”

Andra frowned, “I don’t have anything to do with your relationships with Pat and Art so I don’t appreciate you trying to wrap me into your bullshit. I’ve been out the mix, sis. You’re already in my house, which takes a lot of balls from the both of you after you did Art dirty.”

“Art, art, art, art, art! Jesus! Did you fuck him already? Was it even better now than back when you were nineteen?”

One thing about Tashi, she knew how to be so disrespectful. However it had no effect on Andra as a smile split over her lips at the blunt short haired woman. It wasn’t a secret that Art was Andra’s first before he decided to start going after Tashi. They were each other’s flings and that was good enough for Andra as long as he wasn’t screwing anybody else that didn’t deserve him. It was her mistake then and maybe it would have been her mistake now if they had more time on that couch.

She didn’t need Tashi picking at scabs.

“Would that make you feel better?” Andra asked with a tilt of her head, “voluntarily giving us a pass for what exactly? To even the score?”

Tashi smirks, “You were always my greatest weapon and I don’t get even, I win.”

Patrick stands on the other side of the counter, taking Art’s glare, “I don’t know what you want from me, man. We were back to normal, great even! I’m at my best and you’re going out with a bang, don’t let this ruin how far we’ve come.”

Art huffs, “I’ll decide.”

“Fine, whatever you want but don’t make it another thirteen years.” Patrick snaps, “…where’s the booze?”

Andra pats at her scalp in frustration, “if you have any respect for me as a past friend, you’ll do right.”

“What’s your definition of right?” Tashi rolls her hands around trying to understand, “Leaving when it gets tough and having unrequited love?”

“What’s yours?” Andra debates stepping to Tashi who gets up in her face, “Cheating on your husband, having a baby on him, lying to him for years, and still walking around like the mean girl you are? Let me tell you something Ms. bob, we’re grown now and it’s tired.”

Tashi sizes Andra up, “it’s cute that you think you have a back bone now. Took you long enough.”

“Keep trying me and you’ll see just how that back bone works.”

Tashi kisses her lips at Andra who steps back, “great talk.”

“You haven’t changed and I don’t think you ever will. I’m glad I walked away from this friendship years ago, you make me sick.” Andra snips over her shoulder as she reaches for the handles.

Tashi fans her hand, “oh fuck you and your excuses. You’re just looking to point the finger at every bad guy to make yourself feel better about your lack of drive for anything.”

“What?” Andra whips around, “You’re the only miserable one I see here. At first I thought it was ambition but that turned into greed and then control. You’re just mad that I would no longer let you diminish my voice. I’ve had enough of that with my own mother! I’m not tennis, I’m more than that, which you’re not and that bothers you so maybe you’re the one that’s really sick.”

Tashi claps it up while Andra stares up at the ceiling, “glad you finally found your voice and told me how you really feel in person, instead of laying it out to the public like you should have. Only took you forever.”

Andra shrugs her shoulders, “if I have something to say, I’ll say it to your face.”

Tashi hums as she steps to Andra this time, brown eyes scanning over her features,“Tell me more.”

“I don’t want to do this with you anymore, Tash.” Andra’s hands are up in the air, “I removed myself from the situation long ago and after this weekend here, I don’t want to talk about it anymore. We just don’t mesh and that’s okay, I have boundaries and you have crazy standards that you expect everybody to follow. Art and I were cool before you came into the picture—

“Aht, don’t do that. We were high school friends before Art. Why should some man come between us?”

This was true, Andra and Tashi were the best of friends anyone can have as teenagers starting from their junior year. This wasn’t their first fight and wouldn’t be their last. They were in different groups by the time Andra came along since she was from Virginia but her family moved out to California when she was fourteen. They knew of each other since they had gym class together but didn’t get the chance to form a friendship until they were sixteen.

“You don’t get it,” Andra sighs, “it wasn’t just Art. It was everything for me and it would have killed me so I chose a different path. If you wanna be mad at me still over that, fine. We can’t change each other.”

“You honestly think that’s what our relationship was?” Tashi pries, “it was about challenging each other and shaping each other into the best of the best.”

Andra tightens her stare, “So tell me Tash, do you like the result?”

Tashi inhales, thoughts wandering as there’s more harsh knocks at the door. Andra deeply frowns figuring it’s Patrick who locked himself out as she looks away from Tashi, sliding the doors back to peek out. She can’t see from the doorway but she also doesn’t hear Patrick or Art talking.

The knocking sounds again and Andra steps out, followed by Tashi. Andra sees Art walking over to the door while Patrick brings his attention away from tinder on his phone.

“I thought it was you,” Andra tells Patrick, shoving his shoulder, making him lift his head to peek up at her.

Patrick snorts, “nah. My serve is more baseline.”

Tashi walks along the path between the couch and sliding doors, peering at the view of the afternoon sky turning lightly yellow against the blue. There’s birds in the sky but they’re flying further away. All of their heads turn back to the knocking, leaving Art to unlock it before Andra tells him to ask who it is.

Her attention is pulled away as Patrick starts carrying a conversation about dinner but she’s curious to who’s at the door. She see’s Art standing up straight before closing the door, locking it while holding a piece of paper.

“Who was it?” Patrick examines as Art makes his way over to the three still holding onto a fallen paper.

The blond shrugs, “some girl looking for some other girl.”

“God, I hope it didn’t slip to the paps that we’re out here.” Tashi actually seems uneasy about that, perhaps this news was more damaging than she was letting on.

Art replies, “Yeah that would not be great.”

“I mean…would it be the worst?” Patrick sits up on his elbows, “The press is hot right now and I’m the hottest topic—which I should be.”

“Yeah mainly for having a kid with your coach, who happens to be my wife.” Art retorts, “You should be so proud.” He flicks the paper into the air, leaving Patrick to reach up and snatch it.

Patrick turns his attention to Andra who’s sitting on the other side of the lounging shaven man, “…you never told us this was some religious town.”

“What?” Andra frowns, trying to not dissociate.

Patrick holds the paper up in the air as if it’s show and tell, “Latter-day saints? Don’t tell us you invited us here to join a cult?”

“I didn’t invite you!” Andra declared while Patrick flicks the paper to the ground and raised his hands in surrender.

Tashi asks Art, “what’s the name of the girl she said she was looking for?”

“It wasn’t Tashi.” Art notifies, “don’t worry.”

Tashi breathed out a laugh, “me? Never.”

Art moves to sit at the dining table glancing at the three in the room. Andra’s gone quiet, Patrick’s humming a tune while he’s messing around with his phone again, and Tashi is burning her stare into him. He knows they’re going to have to talk at some point during this trip but for now?

“Andie and I ate not too long ago but nows a good as time as any to decide what to eat for dinner. So…any suggestions?” Art questions, eyes moving around the sitting room.

Tashi mumbles that it doesn’t matter, arms crossed as she also seems to have a lot on her mind. Patrick is sitting up against the arm of the couch now, blabbing about many options that most likely wasn’t in the fridge or freezer. Art’s eyes are on Andra as she moves to pull the large curtain over the sliding doors, which makes Tashi eye Art watching her as well.

Andra moves back to the kitchen, pulling out some already prepared items from her assistant to rest on the counter. Patrick’s back at the record player and Tashi has now taken Patrick’s spot on the couch.

The braided woman flinches as she feels hands lightly grip her hips. “Hey, are you okay?”

Andra nods, “yeah…I think so. You?”

“Ask me tomorrow,” Art whispers into her ear.

Andra utters, “just need to get through tonight.”

“Yup. Perhaps slow and steady wins this race?” Art guesses as he swiftly presses a kiss to Andra’s hairline by her personalized chocolate chip.

When he leaves her side, Art catches Patrick’s eyes who has his brows raised at that exchange, waiting for Art to tell him something with Art’s own eyes. Art just shifts his blues, leaving the main area to take a minute to himself. That doesn’t last as Patrick shortly follows after Art, seeking answers about what his plan was with Andromeda.

Tashi turns to Andra as Patrick disappears into her shared room with her husband.

“Guess it’s our turn to be fucking housewives, huh?”

Andra leans her elbows along the counter, feeling a cramp in her stomach while she breathed through it, “the real ones just exited the scene.”

Tashi laughs at this as she pushes to her feet looking for a drink. She wouldn’t exactly call this, “happy hour,” but it’ll do for now. Andra knows it’s bad luck not to cheers and Tashi Duncan was one of the last people she wanted to do so with but Andra had a feeling that she didn’t want anymore bad luck.

So the glasses clinked while Patrick and Art hashed it out behind the barn doors. Outside of the cottage by the water, stands a darkened silhouette underneath the slight shade of a dogwood tree, just lurking and waiting for the right time to rally.

Dollface would soon be ready for the next task once the hours passed with some friends to bring to the match.

.ೃ࿔ ✈︎ *:･.ೃ࿔ ✈︎ *:･.ೃ࿔ ✈︎ *:･.ೃ࿔ ✈︎ *:･.ೃ࿔ ✈︎ *:･.ೃ࿔ ✈︎ *

Continue with my summer anthology writings & prompts here.

[revrads]

Uhhhh this won't get the same attention as SFTBH but me and my friend have been having some SZNZ brainworms and I thought I'd share the AU/OC :)

[resetting37]

Splinters and spice vs. my Headcanon voices for them (I think it’s a fun coincidence that they have cartoon character voices !)

Though since 2/3 of them sing, I’d say ambers singing voice is tkay maidza and Meghan’s is Sophie powers

[expired-box-of-chocolates]

☣ hallo !! im nawt the best at making intros so.. here's the best one i could put together... (๑ᵔ⤙ᵔ๑)

💊 namehoard: toxin, sayori, yakui (main name), cyanide, lithium, radium, zero, xenon, cyber, marigold, bonnie, robyn, keta, hazard, strawb, nyacifier, chlorine, zombeh, poptart ++ any fictionkin names are fine!!

💊 boyflux/nonbinaryflux intersex boygirl, aroaceflux and pomoromantic ++ xenogenders

💊 pronouns: it/xe/lean/purp/glitch/nuke/🍪/☣️/💜 (use any other and i will give 1 warning, and if u continue it will become a block. (¬`‸´¬)

💊 all of my aesthetics/subcultures (very passionate about them,,): larpercore, slasher summer, juggalo, cultcore, doomer, slimepunk, necrotrap, bastardcore, terrorwave, incelcore, sigmacore, grunge, gopnik, slavic, jumpstylecore, oddcore, toxiccore, glowwave, icepunk, breakcore, acidwave, drugcore, kinderwhore, trashcore, urbling, scemo, shinora, gurokawa, rokku gyaru, hadeko, clowncore, yamanba gyaru

💊 i have some disorders,, iwc always ૮ ◞ ﻌ ◟ ა (i swear im nice)

💊 some of my main fandoms: american psycho, stephen king (any of his movies/books), fnaf, yandere simulator, class of 09, final destination, pulp fiction, ddlc, genshin impact, saw, scream, lucky star, creepypasta, eddsworld, south park, monster high, twilight, heathers, tyler the creator lore, mlp, breaking bad, strawberry shortcake, athf, edd ed and eddy, homestuck, vocaloid, gorillaz, the office, american horror story, goosebumps ++ more

💊 my otherkins/conceptkins;; vampire kin, robot kin, glitch kin, angel kin,, zombie kin,, doll kin,, whether kin (tornado!!),, nightmare kin,, plush kin,, tech kin,, toy kin,, scarecrow kin, shadow kin, sea monster kin,, christmas kin, valentines day kin, hypnosis kin, chatbot kin, wizard kin, fallen angel/demon kin,, song kin,, death angel kin,, whats app kin (yes i kin whats app),, elf kin,, microwave kin,, halloween kin

💊 theriotypes;; jackalope,, koi fish,, calico cat,, vampire cat,, angel cat,, ant,, glow worm,, lamb,, kitsune,, bunny,, hamster,, fruit bat,, jumping spider,, red fox,, white bat,, rosy maple moth,, groundhog,, raccoon, skunk, polyphemus moth,, goat,, borzoi dog,, dirt worm,, cockroach,, white skunk,, white ferret,, persian cat (brown fur) ++ questioning others

💊 food kins: sour patch kid candy (specifically orange), jack-o-lantern (idk if that countz as a food), peeps marshmallow (specifically the yellow chick one), cotton candy (pink and blue)

💊 top fictionkins;; ticci toby (crp), yakui-san (nijura maids), flandre (touhou), billy lenz, nicole (class of 09), kyle broflovski, casey (scream), wendy christenson (fd3), ghoulia (monster high), wendy torrence, carrie white, hatsune miku (vocaloid!!!!), mituna (homestuck), sayori (ddlc), midori gurin (yansim), karkat vantas (homestuck), bonnie (fnaf), tord (eddsworld), derpy hooves (mlp), tavros nitram (homestuck), applejack (mlp), toko fukawa (danganronpa) konakona018 (oc), biscuit tan, aubery (omori), patrick batemen (american psycho), billy loomis (scream), violet hamon (ahs), lulu (crp), judge angel (crp), light yagami (death note), natsuki (ddlc), sierra (tdi), karen (class of 09) meatwad (athf) hungryhero.exe (sonic au...) junko (danganronpa), beta!kokichi (danganronpa v3), sayaka maizono (danganronpa v1), hamtaro ++ many more.. (pfp is probably who im kinshifted as) also im fine with doubles & mediamates!!

💊 factkins: courtney love, rob canter, lisa left eye, george harrison, allison harvard

💊 some of my favorite music artists;; smashing pumpkins, jazmin bean, sharkdrug, yabujin, korn, icp, limp bizket, kmfdm, nirvana, 2pac, 4lung (i dont support the creator), bloodhound gang, cannibalcorpse, foo fighters ☹️, weezer, gorillaz, kendrick lamar, lagoyo, red hot chili peppers, tyler the creator, basement jaxx, pierce the veil, deftones, ayesha erotica, slipknot, 1 800 pain, msi, hole, 2pac, slipknot

💊 selfshipper!!!! f/os: cody (tdi), edd (eddsworld), eyeless jack (crp), gamzee (homestuck), 2D (gorillaz), morty (r&m), mastershake (athf), liu woods (crp), x virus (crp), wallace wells (scott pilgrim) ૮꒰ ྀི >⸝⸝⸝< ྀི꒱ა

💊 adoptive father of jank boteko and an0rex1c sour patch kid meme (WHO IS PRO-YAKUI FAMILY 💜♥️😈)/satire

💊 i know japanese & russian ^______^ (english isn't my main but im ok with it)

💊 moodboard account: @noapologiesbynirvana

💊 webkinz, beanie babie, furby, shopkins & squishmallow collector!!!!

💊 dni: basic dni, anti fictionkin/otherkin/etc, transphobes, homophones, TCC/columbiners, people who support trump (YOU'RE HORRIBLE!!!!), nsfw blogs, toxic stans (any community), people who know me from picsart (if we are already friends thats fine) 😕😕

💊 gonna leave it at that for now,, might add more later !! ^_______^ 🍫🍫

☣ tags for my posts!!:

#🧊:random posting = random posts

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[melancholicmelanin]

Compress/Repress | Chapter 2: Sister, Sister

Pairing: art donaldson x black!oc x patrick zweig, tashi duncan x black!oc (platonic)

Summary: As the summer of 06' winds down, Maya is anxiously prepping for a secret adventure: flying to New York to watch her half-sister Tashi compete at the Junior US Open. The only problem? She’s doing it behind her grandparents’ backs.

Word Count: 5k

Warning(s): minor challengers spoilers (if any?), mild cursing, a non american writing americans, self edited and no beta.

masterlist | prev | next | wattpad | AO3

BEL-AIR, CALIFORNIA – August 30, 2006

“Look, you’ve already got the plane tickets, right? And you’ve figured out how to get to LAX. You’re halfway there!” Tashi exclaimed. Her tone was light-hearted, like the gravity of the situation was no big deal, as if sneaking across the country wasn’t an act that could land Winston Pratt in the hospital.

It had been a year since they’d made their first connection—one impulsive friend request that had led to a secret sisterhood neither of them had anticipated. An outsider looking in would deduce them as a close-knit pair of sisters. Heck, maybe long-time best friends even. Now, they spoke almost every day—through texts, phone calls and sometimes in person, always careful to keep their connection hidden from their respective families.

Maya let out a low, breathy laugh, though it sounded more like a sigh. Like she was failing at convincing Tashi to change her mind and ditch the plan altogether. Her heart raced as she listened to Tashi’s voice echo through the receiver. Maya’s heart raced as she took in her sister’s words, a mixture of excitement and nervousness bubbling beneath her tummy.

“I know, I know.” Maya said as she paced between the four pastel walls of her room, her Paul Frank slippers gliding against the plush white rug.

“I can’t stop thinking about the worst-case scenario. Like what if I get human trafficked at the airport and the kidnappers want ransom. They’d freak!” She exclaimed, dramatically tossing her arms in the air.

“Oh my god, M!” Tashi blurted out, sounding both exasperated and amused at her sister’s active imagination. When her guard was down, Maya Pratt-Duncan’s true form always showed, she was an anxious nervous reck at the end of the day.

Maya shut her eyes and clutched her phone out of embarrassment as she heard Tashi's befuddled voice coming through on the other end. Despite being miles apart, she could almost see the jokes forming in Tashi’s mind.

“You watch too many movies,” Tashi quipped, trying to ease Maya's worries.

“They’re not going to find out,” She explained further, firm and unbothered, the usual confidence Maya admired in her spilling into every word. “You’ve got everything under control. This is our moment. And I want you there when I win.”

Maya made her way towards her bed, her suitcase laid bare on top as she prepared for tomorrow's flight. She carefully checked and rechecked all her belongings, her nerves still prickling despite Tashi's reassurance.

The thought of seeing her half-sister for the first time in action—on the court, in her element—made her heart flutter. But the idea of lying to her grandparents, Tabitha and Winston, weighed on her heavily. They had raised her, protected her, and shielded her from so much of the world. And now, here she was, planning to deceive them.

Maya's voice was soft and hushed, a small smile playing at the edge of her lips as she spoke. "I know you're going to win," she said, her words filled with admiration and confidence. "But...I've never done anything like this before, you know."

Tashi's laughter came through the other end of the phone, light and teasing. "Oh, come on, Maya. You're going to be just fine."

Maya couldn't help but bite her lip, a habit her grandmother couldn’t stand. "It's one thing meeting up at South Coast Plaza, but flying all the way to New York? That's a whole new level."

"Hey, trust me," Tashi reassured her. "You've got this."

“And besides, it's not like I've been completely innocent this whole time.” Tashi leaned against the kitchen counter, her fingers fiddling with the telephone cord as she recounted one of their rebellious antics. “Remember that college party we went to? My dad definitely doesn't know about that!" Maya’s laughter echoed throughout her room as she reminisced about ditching the party in exchange for the local 7 Eleven at 2AM. Till this day she couldn't believe they had gotten away with it, but then again, Tabitha was under the impression that she was at UCLA college scouting.

A warm, genuine smile crept onto Maya's face as she listened to Tashi speak, feeling a sense of comfort and ease wash over her. Tashi had always been one to remain unfazed by anything--whether it be societal rules or the constant pressure of her successful tennis career. It was a trait that Maya both admired and secretly envied, wishing she could exude the same level of nonchalance in her own life.

“I just don’t want to mess this up,” Maya admitted, her voice barely above a whisper, her words carrying a hint of vulnerability and uncertainty.

“You won’t,” Tashi reassured her, her tone softening. “Look, you’ve covered your tracks. You told your grandparents you’re staying with that friend of yours, right? The one with the gap in her teeth?”

Maya nodded, despite Tashi not being present to see her affirmation.

“Yeah, I told them I’m going to Reneé’s for the weekend,” She confirmed, biting her lip. “I mean, they’re really good friends with her family, but I still feel guilty.”

"Maya, listen to me. You have nothing to worry about. You're not doing anything wrong," Tashi insisted, her voice filled with conviction and confidence. “You’re just… bending the rules a little. It’s not like we’re committing a crime,” Tashi said, her voice filled with the kind of certainty Maya wished she could muster herself.

Maya paused, her mind swirling with Tashi's words. At the end of the day, she knew she had to do this. Her entire life had been spent following the strict rules and expectations set by her grandparents. They lived in a world of high society and legacy, where image was everything. But Tashi's world was different. Spending time with her free-spirited sister had taught Maya to break out of her shell and live in the moment. She longed to let go of Tabitha's expectations and just be herself. This trip was for her, and it would be the last time her grandmother's disapproval stood in the way of her desires. As she gazed at the open window ahead of her, she could feel a sense of freedom and adventure calling to her, beckoning her to embrace this new chapter in her life.

“Okay,” Maya said, taking a deep breath. “I’m doing it.”

"Hell yeah, you are!" Tashi's voice echoed through the phone, filled with pride and determination. Maya could practically picture her sister fist-pumping into the air. "Plane tickets aren't cheap, babe. But trust me, M. You're going to love New York City. It's vibrant, pulsing with energy." Tashi's words sparked a feeling of anticipation in Maya's chest. "And just wait till you see me on that court at the Open—I'm going to dominate."

"Now get some sleep and prepare for the most unforgettable weekend of your life," Tashi exclaimed with a wide grin.

They exchanged goodbyes, and after ending the call, Maya stared at her phone, still buzzing from the energetic conversation. She walked over to her window, gazing out at the dazzling skyline of Los Angeles as it shimmered under the night sky. The city lights twinkled like stars as a plane sawed the sky, beckoning her to join in on the fun. Her reflection in the glass appeared small and hesitant. Could she really go through with this? She had never been one to break rules or rebel – every decision she had ever made was with her grandparents' blessings. But this... this felt like stepping into a whole new world. A world where she could let loose and be free, even if just for a few days.

It’s just one weekend, she told herself. Just a couple of days. I can do this.

The Next Day

Now, most people would think the hard part was packing, right? How in the world do you fit a week's worth of clothes into a carry-on suitcase for a weekend trip? Well, lucky for Maya, that kind of job needed experience, and she’d been practicing for years. She had honed the art of over-preparing for every kind of situation—always with the perfect mix of practical essentials and stylish options, who cares if it ends up with you lugging around two suitcases in the middle of LAX. But packing was the easy part; it was everything that came after that was trickier.

The hard part was actually figuring out how to get out of the house without waking any suspicions. Maya knew her grandparents’ routine like the back of her hand; it helped that it hadn’t changed in years. Tabitha woke up every morning at 6:30 A.M. on the dot for her morning jog with "the girls"—her circle of wealthy friends who gossip as much as they power walk. Winston would follow shortly after, making his way down to the breakfast table with the morning newspaper already tucked under his arm. Ettie, the housekeeper, would be brewing a pot of Italian coffee for him. The whole ritual was so ingrained in the fabric of their household that Maya could practically set her watch by it.

Her grandmother always had a way of figuring out when Maya was up to something, so timing was crucial. If she was going to slip out unnoticed, she’d have to be long gone before Tabitha finished her jog. She calculated that the best window of opportunity was during those precious few minutes when Winston would be alone in the kitchen, sipping his coffee and absorbed in the day’s headlines. She’d leave a meticulously written note on the entryway table, some excuse about the early bird catching the worm and hope that would be enough to buy her a few extra hours.

Her heart racing, Maya reached the top of the grand staircase and paused. The entranceway below seemed impossibly vast; the polished marble floor gleaming under the faint light of dawn that streamed in through the stained-glass windows. A family portrait, prominently displayed by the foyer, seemed to gaze down at her—a beautiful oil painting of her grandparents, herself, and her late mother. Her mother’s soft eyes seemed to follow her every move as she cautiously descended the stairs, almost as if silently questioning her decision—Are you sure about this?

Maya tiptoed down the staircase, gripping the banister as if it might help her tread more lightly. The large grandfather clock in the hallway ticked steadily, the only sound breaking the quiet of the early morning. Her pulse quickened with every step, the echo of her shoes on the marble floor sounding far too loud in the stillness. She couldn’t risk alerting Ettie, who was always the first to rise before her grandparents. If Ettie caught her, there would be questions, and then she’d have to explain why she was up so early, where she was going, and why she had two packed suitcases for a sleepover with a family friend.

Her suitcase’s wheels glided silently over the marble floor as she made her way to the front door, keeping her movements slow and deliberate. She caught a glimpse of the kitchen down the hallway—Winston was already there, sitting at the breakfast table, absorbed in his newspaper. Her note, propped up against the sugar bowl, looked small and insignificant, and for a fleeting moment, Maya wondered if she should just go in and tell him the truth. But she quickly brushed that thought aside. There was no way they’d ever let her go if they knew where she was really heading.

Taking a deep breath, she turned the handle on the front door and slipped outside, closing it softly behind her.

A sharp gust of cool air struck Maya's face as soon as she stepped outside her front door, sending a shiver down her spine. The crispness of the early morning air seemed to whisper warnings in her ears, urging her to turn back while she still could. But Maya pushed the thoughts away with determination. She had made up her mind, and she wasn't going to let any doubts stop her.

In the pale light of dawn, Maya spotted Reneé's car sitting at the curb, its headlights cutting through the dimness like beacons. Reneé stood next to the driver's side door, wrapped in a thick jacket, her bonnet still on her head and rubbing her sleepy eyes. As soon as she saw Maya approaching, she perked up slightly, though her expression remained a mix of curiosity and concern.

Maya had always known she could count on Reneé, her best friend since childhood. They met in the most ridiculously “private school” way possible: at their elite academy’s spring fair. It was 1995, and six-year-old Maya was twirling around in a frilly lavender dress, sparkly shoes, and butterfly clips in her hair like a mini-Mariah Carey. Meanwhile, Reneé—awkward, with wild curls and a shiny new camcorder her parents bought to shut her up—was filming a “serious” documentary titled “Life Sucks When You’re Six".

The collision was inevitable. Reneé backed right into Maya, sending both of them sprawling. But instead of tears, Maya jumped up, adjusted her dress, and grinned. “Hey, can I be in your movie?” she asked, with all the confidence of a little girl who had just discovered Clueless. Reneé, who was usually more comfortable behind the camera than in front of people, couldn’t help but smile. From that moment on, they were inseparable—like two halves of a Spice Girls cassette tape.

Growing up in the same exclusive Los Angeles neighborhood, they were an unlikely pair, more like Cher Horowitz and Daria Morgendorffer at group sleepovers than your typical best friends. Maya was the girly girl: always perfectly put together, with glittery lip gloss and an impressive collection of Lisa Frank stationery. Reneé, on the other hand, had a style best described as “indie film director in training”—baggy overalls, thrifted T-shirts, and always a journal in hand to jot down her latest “brilliant” ideas. While Maya attended etiquette and ballet classes, Reneé was busy trying to figure out how to direct the next Godzilla movie.

Despite their differences, they shared everything: secrets, dreams, and even some epic middle school crushes. In Maya’s perfectly pink bedroom—walls covered in a fancy wallpaper imported from France and posters of NSYNC and fashion magazine cutouts neatly pinned on a cork board—they would lie on the floor and talk about how one day they’d move to New York City, where Maya would become the next It Girl and Reneé would direct films about “the real meaning of life” (whatever that meant at age twelve). In Reneé’s room, which was more of a creative chaos zone, they would brainstorm ideas for homemade movies, often starring Maya as a glamorous protagonist and Reneé providing the scene of what they thought a woman in her 20s would find themselves in

Their bond was unbreakable, forged through years of navigating the ups and downs of adolescence in a world where everyone seemed to have at least three vacation homes. They laughed at dumb celebrity gossip from TRL, whispered about grand plans that sounded straight out of Lizzie McGuire, and found ways to dodge the relentless expectations placed upon them by their parents. With Reneé by her side, Maya didn’t have to worry about being perfect; she could just be herself—even if “herself” meant spending a Friday night reenacting scenes from Titanic while Reneé filmed it as "performance art."

Even in the early morning light, Reneé’s voice was dripping with suspicion. "I can't believe you're actually up this early," she grumbled, rubbing her eyes and leaning against the car door. "This better be worth dragging me out of bed before sunrise. Did you finally get tired of the whole 'good girl' act and decide to run off with some older guy?"

Maya tossed her suitcase into the backseat, the car grumbling to life as she tried to sound casual. "What? No," she said, though her voice came out a little too defensive. "It’s just a quick trip. I’ll be back by Monday." But she couldn’t ignore the flutter in her chest at the thought of how close she was to getting caught.

Reneé raised an eyebrow, her eyes narrowing like a gossip columnist sniffing out a juicy scandal. "Right. 'Quick trip' is exactly what I’d say if I were meeting some mysterious silver fox." Her tone was teasing, but there was an unmistakable glint of curiosity in her eyes.

Maya forced out a laugh, shaking her head as she slid into the passenger seat. "Please. If I were running away to meet some older guy, I’d at least wait until I was done with high school. And I’d have a way better cover story."

Reneé leaned over the steering wheel, still eyeing Maya like she was trying to solve a mystery. "Uh-huh. But I’ve known you long enough to tell when something’s up, and you’re not exactly packing like someone who's just 'going to visit a friend.' Spill it, Maya. What’s really going on? Did you get seduced by some rich guy who swept you off your feet at one of those boring charity events? Because honestly, that sounds kind of romantic. Also, kind of reckless, but still romantic."

Maya fumbled with the seatbelt, her pulse quickening. She couldn’t exactly tell Reneé that she was sneaking away to New York to meet the half-sister she’d only found out about a year ago. That kind of revelation was way too fragile, too precious to expose to anyone else’s opinions—not even Reneé’s. "I’m fine," she said, a little too quickly. "I just… needed to get out of here for a few days before the semester starts. You know, clear my head or whatever."

Reneé rolled her eyes but started the car, steering them down the empty streets. "Okay, sure. But if I find out you ran off with some guy who’s old enough to have his own yacht, I’ll say I told you so."

The car cruised through the dimly lit streets; the city still wrapped in the quiet of early morning. Reneé reached over and switched on the radio, landing on a station playing an old Britney Spears song. "Oh my God, remember when we did that dance routine to this?" she exclaimed, a grin spreading across her face. "Come on, Maya, don’t leave me hanging. Sing it like you mean it!"

Maya’s laughter bubbled up despite the tension she was carrying, and she joined in. As they belted out the chorus together, it was easy to forget, just for a moment, where she was headed and the secrets she was keeping. For those few minutes, it felt like they were back in middle school again, planning sleepovers and giggling about silly crushes. But as the song faded, reality crept back in, and Maya’s thoughts returned to the trip ahead.

The car rumbled to a stop at the departure terminal, and Maya took a deep breath, bracing herself for the whirlwind of the airport. The early morning light was just beginning to stretch across the sky, casting a hazy glow over the glass facade. Despite the hour, LAX was already alive with travellers dragging suitcases, taxi drivers haggling for fares, and the occasional lost soul wandering around with a coffee in hand.

Maya climbed out of the car, her steps slower than usual as she retrieved her suitcase from the trunk. Reneé stretched her arms over her head and let out a long yawn. "Alright, runaway princess," she said, still eyeing Maya like she was waiting for a confession. "Go have your mysterious rendezvous. But I swear, if you come back wearing a diamond bracelet, I’m going to need the whole story."

"Will do," Maya said, forcing a smile. But her chest felt tight. She wanted to tell Reneé the truth—about her real reason for the trip, about Tashi—but the words just wouldn’t come.

Reneé pulled her in for a quick hug. "Whatever it is you're doing, just be careful, okay? I’m all for spontaneous adventures, but try not to come back married to a guy who quotes The Great Gatsby unironically."

"I promise," Maya said, laughing nervously. "No secret weddings."

Reneé grinned as she climbed back into the car. "Good. See you when you get back, okay? And text me if you need a rescue."

Maya gave her a final wave as Reneé’s car rolled away, the taillights fading into the flow of early morning traffic. For a moment, she stood at the curb, feeling strangely exposed against the backdrop of the sprawling airport. She adjusted the strap of her bag and took a deep breath. She was really doing this.

The automatic doors slid open with a faint hiss, and Maya stepped inside, letting the chaos of the airport wash over her. There was a comforting anonymity here—a sense that she was just another traveller with somewhere to be, just another face in the crowd. She weaved her way through the bustling terminal, her suitcase bumping along behind her as she headed for the self-check-in kiosks.

As she tapped at the screen, printing her boarding pass, Maya’s thoughts wandered back to Reneé’s teasing. It would’ve been easier to lie and say she was sneaking off to meet some rich older guy. At least then, Reneé would have had something fun to speculate about. Instead, Maya was about to board a plane to meet a half-sister she hadn’t even known existed until a year ago, and not even her best friend knew the real story.

With her boarding pass in hand, she made her way toward the security line, her pulse quickening. She was about to cross an invisible line—leaving behind everything she’d known to find answers she wasn’t sure she was ready for. But there was no turning back now.

Maya found a seat by the window at the gate and pulled out her phone, scrolling through her messages. There was a new one from Tashi, sent just a few minutes ago.

Tashi: Just got to the courts. Can’t wait for you to get here! It’s going to be amazing; I promise.

Maya smiled, a mixture of excitement and nerves bubbling inside her. For a moment, she allowed herself to imagine what it would be like to finally meet Tashi face-to-face, to see the sister she’d only known through late-night phone calls and Facebook photos. It felt surreal, like stepping into a story that wasn’t entirely her own.

As her flight was called, Maya stood and gathered her things, ready to step into the unknown. Whatever lay ahead, at least it was her secret to keep, for now.

NEW ROCHELLE, NEW YORK - August 4th, 2019

The sun blazed relentlessly upon the crowd, its heat shimmering off the concrete in waves that distorted the air. Maya squinted behind her oversized sunglasses, their dark lenses doing little to shield her from the sun’s intensity. Her skin prickled from the overexposure of Vitamin D, making it difficult to focus on anything besides the sweltering discomfort that clung to her like a second skin. As she sat in the stands, the familiar scent of sunscreen and freshly cut grass filled her nostrils, triggering memories of summers long past—carefree days spent at her grandparents' estate in Bel-Air Crest, where her only concern was perfecting her bronzed tan.

The hum of the crowd rose and fell around her, but it felt distant, like background noise from an abandoned television. Maya’s gaze drifted across the humble country club, taking in the swirl of colors from spectators’ sun hats and vibrant outfits, and the flashes of bright white tennis gear as players gathered to bear witness to what they suspected to be the match of a century. She was scanning the rows of seats absentmindedly when a tall, slender figure caught her attention. The person was descending the steps slowly, almost as if they were reluctant to be here at all.

As the figure came closer, the cascade of mid-length blonde hair, the effortless grace, and the striking features became unmistakable. Even from a distance, Maya could tell it was Tashi. Her sister’s presence filled her with a complicated rush of emotions—part nostalgia, part unease. They locked eyes just as Tashi reached her row. Time seemed to slow, and an unspoken tension hung between them, as heavy as the humid air. Despite the match unfolding on the court before them, Maya couldn’t tear her gaze away. She watched as Tashi took her seat just a few feet away, their proximity at once too close and yet, not close enough.

'Get a grip Maya, you knew she would be here.'

Maya’s fingers clenched tightly around the edge of her seat, her knuckles turning a ghostly shade of her usual caramel complexion as the internal struggle roiled within her. Her eyes darted anxiously to the tennis court, where the looming presence of the upcoming match filled her with a sense of dread. The players’ shadows stretched long in the late afternoon sun, mirroring the tension and anticipation coursing through Maya’s body. It was as if the scene was mocking her—a snapshot of normalcy while her mind was anything but calm. The roar of the crowd spiked in excitement as the players began their warm-ups, the rhythmic thud of tennis balls echoing like a ticking clock. Maya shifted in her seat, trying to shake off the prickly sensation that crept up her spine.

Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Tashi’s gaze turn toward her. Tashi—the sister who had once known her better than anyone else in the world, who could finish her sentences, who could always sense what she was thinking. Now, it felt like they were two strangers who had to pretend they hadn’t once shared everything. Maya’s breath hitched slightly as she felt Tashi’s eyes on her, the weight of that familiar gaze bringing a sudden rush of memories she had buried beneath layers of silence and time.

Tashi's features, once so easy to read, seemed guarded now. Her cool expression betrayed nothing, but Maya knew her sister too well to be fooled. The slight tension in her jaw, the faint crease on her forehead—it was all there, hiding beneath the calm façade. A year ago, they would have hugged, laughed, shared inside jokes to ease the tension. Now, they were separated by more than just a few feet; a chasm of unspoken words and unresolved issues lay between them.

Tashi's gaze landed on Maya, her once-closest confidante, now a stranger sitting just a few feet away. It unnerved her, how different Maya seemed, even in small ways—the slight slump in her shoulders, the tightness in her jaw. There was something brittle about her that hadn’t been there before, a fragility hiding behind the composed exterior. Maya's forced smile, offered to a couple of teenage girls who recognized her from a fashion magazine, barely reached her eyes. It was the kind of smile people practiced in the mirror, perfected for the sake of appearances.

As Tashi’s gaze drifted back to the court, she felt a pang of something close to regret. This wasn’t how it was supposed to be. She had imagined a different future, one where they could lean on each other no matter what happened. But life had taken a different course, and the choices they’d made—some willingly, others out of desperation—had driven a wedge between them that seemed impossible to remove.

The match hadn’t even started, but Maya could already feel the tension tightening around her like a coiled spring, ready to snap at the slightest touch. She stole a glance at Tashi, who was staring ahead, her jaw clenched as though determined not to show any sign of weakness. There had always been that fierce pride about Tashi, a need to present a strong front no matter how turbulent things were beneath the surface. It was one of the things Maya had admired about her growing up, but now it felt like a wall keeping her out.

"Nice to see you made it," Tashi said finally, her voice low and edged with irony, as though she wasn’t entirely sure whether she meant it or not.

Maya's lips parted, but for a moment, no words came. When she finally spoke, her voice was measured, carefully controlled. "I wouldn’t miss it for the world."

Tashi’s mouth curved into a faint smile that didn’t reach her eyes. "Right," she said, turning her attention back to the players who were now preparing for the first serve. "Because we’ve always been so good at being there for each other."

The words stung, though Maya wasn’t entirely sure whether Tashi intended them to. She let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding and pressed her lips together to keep the sharp retort from escaping. Instead, she chose to stay silent, gripping the arms of her chair until she could feel the bite of the metal against her palms.

The crowd erupted in applause as the first serve cut through the air, the players diving into the game with all the precision and grace expected at this level of competition. But for Maya, the real match was happening here, in the silent exchanges and unsaid words between her and Tashi. Every ball that flew across the net seemed to carry the weight of their unresolved history, every cheer from the crowd a reminder of how long they had been pretending that everything was fine.

The tension hung between them like a blade, sharp and unforgiving. It wasn’t just a tennis match to Maya and Tashi—it was a collision of everything unresolved, a confrontation without words. The years of sisterhood, of shared secrets and broken promises, all seemed to blur together, fusing the past and present into one inescapable truth: no matter how far they drifted, they could never really escape each other.

And as the players battled it out on the court below, Maya couldn’t help but feel as if she and Tashi were the real competitors, locked in a game where neither of them knew the rules anymore.

[that-house]

can you tell us more about dronestrike & the campaign theyre from?

just read thhe post about it & immediately became obsessed

(context: Dronestrike is my warrior cats OC, an american imperialist robot cat the size of a horse and equipped with enough firepower to wipe out the clans if it seems like they're at risk of falling to communism. in the oneshot he accidentally fired a nuke at the city of LA and blamed "every other country" in a phone call with Bidenstar to avoid getting in trouble)

it wasn't a campaign, just an 11-person oneshot in the single most chaotic discord voice call I have ever been in. so i haven't played him since then, nor will i ever play him again

i can provide you a variety of facts about him i came up with after the fact though because he's a funny enough character that i can't stop thinking about him:

his brain is composed of three parts with an equal amount of control over his actions: the soul of a vietnam veteran, an AI replica of a cat, and every single super bowl halftime commercial

he comes armed with combat knives for claws, a machine gun in his mouth, a high caliber sniper rifle built into his spine, a pistol that he somehow uses with cat paws, and a douglas air-2 genie air-to-air unguided nuclear missile

transition could not save him because all trans people are godless communists who bully him on twitter

Dronestrike acknowledges every independence movement if only so that America has more countries to eventually colonize

he has read Marx so he can misuse quotes and flex on any marxists who haven't read theory

his greatest wish is for america to have won 'nam

doesn’t really have any physical possessions because he’s a cat who doesn’t have pockets or a permanent residence. he does however have $8.6 million in Shell oil stock

Dronestrike if he played League of Legends: only plays champs who have america-themed skins, but doesn’t actually own the skins because that would be giving money to a chinese company. plays all of them jungle to poor results. iron 4 two thousand games this season

has no mouth but wishes he did so he could taste the burgers that honest Americans have died to defend

Dronestrike's dream world is world war 3, with the stipulation that there is an american flag superimposed over EVERYONE'S vision instead of just his

if he had 24 hours to live he would start a “second american revolution” by attacking England

he isn't a good kisser: no lips, he's a cat, and also george washington famously said that romantic connections weaken your spiritual link with The State

response to being trapped in a maze of mirrors: breaks through the mirrors without noticing, but also can’t recognize his reflection. Thinks he has to fight these teleporting commie clones of himself to save the United States of America

he's on Santa's naughty list

on Halloween he dresses up as George Washington and “trick or disappears” journalists

Dronestrike hates the reds, the brits, women, and most importantly, himself

prefers fundamentals over schmovement

favorite board game is Monopoly because watching people go bankrupt or be imprisoned is one of his hobbies

his happiest memory is his first glimpse of an amazon packaging facility and the horrible conditions of the workers

favorite season is summer: 4th of July babey!!! the holiday where you're allowed to blow shit upppp!!! he also frequently sets off fireworks in the off season to scare dogs and people with anxiety

doesn’t date but he sends tech billionaires unethically farmed flowers sometimes

doesn’t play video games but he has a simulated CoD lobby’s chat going at all times in his head. they call him slurs whenever he misses a shot

relates strongly to Patrick Bateman

he was in ShadowClan. they picked which clan he would be deployed into by having him take the official "which clan are you" quiz

sometimes he doubts that he has the heart of a true warrior

[jeonqkooks]

obs drabble request for when jk and oc ditch class for the day to do something spontaneous 🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹

our beloved summer; a drabble

"I can't believe I let you talk me into ditching class."

"Y/N, it's an elective class. And you told me you handed in your midterm paper last week. You'll live."

"I would've preferred to maintain a perfect attendance rate!" You roll your eyes, but you still settle down next to him on a bench in the middle of this empty park near the store that Jungkook just dragged you to half an hour ago. It's a beautiful spring day, flowers blossoming all around you, painting everything in vibrant colors, eclipsing the residual melancholy of winter. Part of you is glad that you let him kidnap you from class; you prefer this to being stuck indoors for most of the afternoon anyway. "Whatever. Take your photo."

Your boyfriend grins brightly like a child in a candy store, admiring the ring on your finger before he kisses your hand. The fleeting feeling of his lips on your skin makes you soften, eases the harmless furrow between your brows that never held much annoyance in the first place.

The thick clay ring on your finger is heavy and uncomfortable, but you have to admit it's cute. Silly and might be more appropriate for a 7-year-old child, but it's cute. It's adorned with SpongeBob's face, two buck teeth and giant doe eyes and all. You would've loved shit like this when you were a kid.

He's wearing a matching one on his finger too, though his is pink instead of yellow, Patrick Star instead of SpongeBob SquarePants.

Jungkook holds his polaroid camera with one arm outstretched, while his free hand raises to fit into the photo, showcasing his ring for the shot. You scooch closer to him, mimicking his pose to display your yellow accessory. It takes him to a brief moment to adjust the angle, and before he snaps the photo, you press your lips to his cheek. You feel his bunny grin widen, and for a second you worry that the brilliance of it might just blind the camera.

The photo comes out a bit blurry, a bit out of focus, though it still managed to capture your happy faces and the rings, the carefree crinkle of his eyes and the pink tint on his cheeks. You know instantly that this is one of your favorite photos that you two will ever take.

"Okay, so what are we doing now?" you ask, watching him tuck the polaroid safely into his wallet.

"I don't know. What do you wanna do?"

"What do you mean you don't know? You abducted me."

He shrugs casually. "We could just sit here then. Enjoy the sun."

"You abducted me just to sit around?"

"Stop saying I abducted you. I'm your boyfriend."

You make a face, as if to try to weasel the last word in and argue that yes, Jungkook did abduct you today. Yes, he's also your boyfriend. Both of these things can be true.

Nonetheless, you still let your head rest upon his shoulder, still let his arm wound around your frame to hold you closer. You don't remember the last time you allowed yourself to be in the sun and enjoy a nice day out without worrying about getting ahead of schoolwork or internships. It's nice, like time has stopped for a while just for you to relish the feeling of warm sunshine on your skin.

"I get sleepy if I stay in the sun for too long," you say, already sensing it creeping up from behind your eyelids.

"Then sleep. Just do nothing for the rest of the day," he murmurs, angling his face to the right so he can press a kiss against your forehead. "I know you barely slept last night."

You didn't tell him that you did, in fact, stay up until 5:30AM, hunched over your notebook, trying to finish a piece that you wanted to submit for an internship application. The only person you did tell was Taehyung, when you texted him in the middle of the night with a bunch of keyboard smashes to complain about how tired you were.

You call his name softly, as gentle as the cherry blossom petal that sways in front of you before it falls to the ground. "Did you get me to skip class just so I would take a nap?"

Jungkook's reply is immediate, a half-steady No, but you know he's lying. He has a tell when he lies, one that makes the end of his sentences come out with a tiny lilt, makes his voice go just a note higher.

Looking down at your hands resting next to each other, you keep your lips pursed as your chest tightens. He'd convinced you to miss class because he knew you wouldn't do it on your own accord just to stay home and catch up on sleep. The rings catch on some light, the pit of your stomach catches on some butterflies. Jungkook is warmer than spring itself.

You intertwine your fingers and close your eyes, mostly because you feel them start to burn and you'd rather not dwell on that thought right now. You'd rather focus on the weight of the ring on your finger and how comforting your hand feels in his, how his thumb rubs over your skin back and forth like he always does.

The thought that Jungkook cares about you enough to make up a dumb excuse just so you would care about yourself more - you'll have to shelve it away for later, to mull over when you're alone.

"Love you," you say quietly, squeezing his hand once.

More petals fall. Another kiss pressed against your forehead. "I love you too."

[koushirouizumi]

Meanwhile with DigiAdvs 02 O.C.s

Shanes' Mon: ... SHANE: ...(FLOATING...) {FLOATING...} {Eyes Closed} SHANES' MON: (Shane.) Shane: ... {Sigh} Yeah? Shanes' Mon: ... You've been here a while... Shane: (I was resting.) Shane: Are you concerned for me? I'm fine. Shane: I have these (*holds up Taichi+Daisuke's GOGGLES*) now, so... and Koushiro-...san really upgraded them well. So I can actually SEE where I'm going now when I need to. Shanes' Mon: (It's like you've 'accomodated' yourself.) SHANE: ... (M aybe.) Shane: At the same time, the colors sometimes give me a headache. But Koushiro-san did add in an option that can dim them... but then it's harder to see the signals for "distortions". Shanes' Mon: (But at least, you can still somewhat tell them apart based on the vividness.) Shane: ... (Yeah...) Shane: ... Well, I'm up now, so... Shanes' Mon: (Where are you going from here?) Shane: I don't know. (Mostly I just wanted to "sleep".) Shanes' Mon: ... Shanes' Mon: (But you said, 'want{ED}'.) Shane: Yeah. There's people I want to see again... SHANE: ... But I know they'll wait for me where they can, so there's no major rush. Shanes' Mon: (Are you going to go back to "sleep"?) Shane: (It depends.) Are you going to be there when I open my eyes? SHANES' MON: ... (If you reach out to me.) SHANE: ... Shane: (Yeah, I know.) Guess I gotta wake up then. Shanes' Mon: (As you know, I cannot leave "the Void". But you know how "to communicate" with me.) SHANE: ... Right. (And you know how "to listen".) Shanes' Mon: (You might want to put those goggles back on.) Shane: ('Heh') Honestly, I'm surprised I got this much use out of them, but as said, they're... functional now. SHANE, ADJUSTING GOGGLES: Ready. Shanes' Mon: (Time to 'wake up'.) SHANE, SEEING Darkness ... and Signals: SHANE, OPENING EYES: (*in a bed*) ... ?? ? PATRICK (Shane's sibling): Huh, I thought I heard something...!! ! W-wait, SHANE??? SHANE, Awkwardly raising hand slowly: Um, hi PATRICK, IN AWE: You're at my place--!! ! Shane, nodding: I'm ... home? PATRICK: SHANE: ... (I'm solid.) (I'm not glitching out.) PATRICK: ... Do you still need to rest? Shane: ... Maybe a bit. But later... we can see? PATRICK: That's fine. Just... let me know when you're feeling better. (*closes door carefully*) SHANE, CHECKING GOGGLES: (Still here.) SHANE, CHECKING DIGIVICE: {STILL... Here.} Shane, sighing in relief: (I guess it'd be {REALLY} Bad if even the most powerful 'Mon in all the universe got caught up in 'that'.) SHANES' MON: (They don't Know the half of it.) SHANE: {LAUGHS} ... Hey. Shanes' Mon: (Say hi to Patrick for me.)

[thestalkerbunny]

If you got any more serial killers oc I would give them death game powers.

Oh let me share some of my little SCAMPS.

Sue. E is a sort of Carrie-esque slasher, instead of just getting blood dumped on her-she had a whole pig head shoved on her head. Her name is a pun on Sooey, which is the noise you make to call a pig.

Calvin Black is also known as Prom King; he was a queer teen who was voted Prom King and then brutally murdered by the Prom Queen's infuriated boyfriend and his crew thinking Calvin's plan was to fuck the Prom Queen. He comes back as an undead revenant hell bent on revenge for his brutalization and torture. Calvin Black is just the masculine form of 'Carrie White' (I like the movie Carrie.)

Ephriam is a relatively harmless slasher. He lives on a pig farm with his parents and a violent accident involving a shot gun is what destroyed his face and ancient power on the property near the woods made him akin to a Shape-a semi-immortal,borderline mute creature with supernatural strength. He accidently wanders onto a porn film shoot and is persumed to be the 'hung talent' they were waiting for. No. He's just the local farmer's son who is very eager and amicable. He's a reference to Vincent from House of Wax and Bubba from Texas Chainsaw Massacre.

Mortimer isn't a slasher himself. But he is a happy accomplice to one as well as the enabler. His girlfriend is the sack faced Jackie who essentially is a homeless girl who welds a supernatural talking blade called Slashy that has passed hands of hundreds of 'Jacks' in history. Mortimer is her eager enabler, supporter, and number one fanboy.

I tragically have no proper art of Undead Ted because I can't settle on a design for him. But he's a Camp Ground slasher. He was once the grounds keeper of a Summer Camp and was well beloved until while trying to intervene on some councilors horrifically abusing a camper resulted in his death and his body being hidden on the property. Now he's violently hunting them down now the summer camp has reopened.

A new one that came up tonight is a Model whose face was corroded by toxic skin care products and as a result, she goes around killing people and harvesting their skin to give herself DIY skin grafts and her named is Scarlet; she's a reference to female rage movies as well as Patrick Bateman. No art of her yet. Maybe later.

[hippolotamus]

It’s December, y’all ❄️

Tagged by @stereopticons and my beloved @lizzie-bennetdarcy to share my winter/holiday fics to get in the mood spirit. I only have two but I’m rather fond of them!

This Christmas I'm Not Afraid to Fall | 1.5 k | T

In this universe the Birthday dinner never happened. Patrick is about to go home for Christmas and still hasn't admitted how he feels to David. The group is out celebrating and an innocent question forces Patrick's hand.

Feelin' Warm in the Wintertime | 1.6 k | G

In which my OCs, Summer and Renee, enjoy a snow day during their first year living together

No pressure tagging @thewolvesof1998 @malewifediaz @spagheddiediaz @shortsighted-owl @eddiebabygirldiaz my love @disasterbuckdiaz @pirrusstuff @heartshapedvows @loserdiaz @spotsandsocks @jesuisici33 @exhuastedpigeon @watchyourbuck @wikiangela @wildlife4life @barbiediaz @eowon @vanillahigh00 @rmd-writes @welcometololaland @apothecarose @blackandwhiteandrose @daffi-990 @ladydorian05 @elvensorceress @giddyupbuck @monsterrae1 @chaosandwolves @your-catfish-friend @statueinthestone @buddierights @911onabc @hoodie-buck @the-likesofus @honestlydarkprincess @spaceprincessem @fionaswhvre @steadfastsaturnsrings @weewootruck @underwater-ninja-13 @jamespearce9-1-1 @messyhairdiaz @gayedmundodiaz @fortheloveofbuddie @theplaceyoustillrememberdreaming and anyone else who has winter/holiday fics to share!

[anubisandco]

Chapter one: You're not a dog

Patrick Hockstetter x OC (Delilah Huggins)

Summary:

Patrick didn't know what she was, and He hated it. Delilah Huggins was something he couldn't figure out, He hated her. He hated the way she made his chest feel. Delilah didn't know a single thing about Patrick, nothing substantial at least. But she wanted to know him, everything about him.

Someone has to lose the game. The game that Patrick was very good at cheating at.

~~~

At first, it had bothered her, The heavy feeling of his eyes on her all the time. It took a while to realize that Patrick just liked to watch, his gaze was usually cold and distant, his dark brown eyes filled with nothing not even hatred. Just simply uncaring, But he watched her every move nonetheless. 

Reggie had warned her ahead of time but Delilah didn’t actually understand what he meant until she had met Patrick in the school parking lot. She saw him lurking around Reggie’s usual parking spot, He reminded her of a spider. Long, and gangly he had the same spooky feeling as well. She could feel his eyes the moment she climbed out of the Trans am, his empty smile greeted her. He flicked his lighter open and closed, open and closed, open and closed. 

He never said a word to her as they stood in the parking lot listening to Henry yell at any student passing by, she watched the crowd thin as people made their way inside the brick building and tried to ignore Patrick at the same time. 

She shivered when she felt him standing behind her, his breath warm on her neck competing with the summer breeze. Even after Reggie very aggressively told him to knock it off, Patrick walked her to her locker and then to class. He flirted with her the entire time, and she couldn’t tell if he was serious or not. 

As the weeks went by He’d climb through her window and watch as she lay on her floor finishing her assignments, he never once took off his dirty black boots, even when he lay on her white bedspread. Patrick would lay in the same spot anytime he came over, his hands behind his head and he’d stare until he got bored. 

After a while, he’d make a big deal about the silence and get up, she barely paid attention as he stepped over her in those dirty boots to her record player. The one her mom gave her for her birthday like three years ago, Delilah would, in turn, watch him as he dug through her music collection until he found something he didn’t hate, which was hard to do. 

She’d sit up at this point in the night and close her notebooks and smile as he made himself at home on her floor next to him. 

“ This one again?” Her voice was playful and quiet, His only answer was to pinch her thigh and close his eyes. 

She couldn’t even remember where she got this record, maybe from her parents' garage before she had moved to Derry, the classical music was heavy in the room, and the disk hadn’t had a case when she took it. Delilah couldn’t understand why Patrick liked this one so much, he picked it almost every time. 

The summer breeze was hot like her blowdryer as it came through her open window, the white lace curtains she’d hung up moved with it. He had a habit of leaving the window open whenever he came through it. Delilah complained every time but he’d smile at her and she’d forget why she hated it so much. 

“D’you ever get bored of this place?” He asked, in his usual Patrick way, Delilah wasn’t sure she’d ever be able to understand where his head was at. He was so back and forth, he’d say one thing and then the opposite the very next moment. 

“ What do you mean?” She opened her notebook again trying to pick up where she’d left off on her math homework, His back was against her bed. “ Like Derry or this house?” 

Patrick looked up at her poster-covered ceiling, he had read them all at least twelve times over by now, his eyes landed on the same one every time. The Alice in Wonderland poster she had pinned right above her pillows, the Cheshire cat sat lazily on a tree branch smiling down at helpless little Alice, the woods around them were dark and swirly. 

“ Either, both, anything.” 

“ No, not really it’s all new to me still.” Delilah shrugged as she erased a stray pencil mark, “ But New York was definitely better.” She said decidedly. Her parents were supposed to move down in January with her, but then plans changed and it had been March. March came and went and now they didn’t even bother to give her a month. 

She didn’t hate living with her Aunt and Reggie, but it never felt like home, it felt like a sleepover. You could never really get comfortable. 

He grabbed onto a stray lock of hair twirling it in his fingers, he pulled on it just a little bit not enough to hurt but she could feel it. 

“ You know the longer you’re here the less likely you are to leave.” He whispered, her eyes met his. Delilah had no reply to this, She knew all the rumors about Patrick. It was hard not to hear them when that’s all anyone at school could talk about, even Reggie had to tell her all about him. 

He’d never been mean to her, he’d never tried to hurt her. But listening to the stories she couldn’t help but let her mind wander that direction. This could have been a threat, but her heart was telling her it wasn’t. He wouldn’t. 

But he really would. 

“ I don’t believe you.” She said and went back to her homework,  one quick glance at her clock told her it was almost time for Patrick to slither back out of her window. She never told him to leave because he wouldn’t, you couldn’t tell Patrick to do anything when you did he took it as a challenge. But he always left around the same time every night, eleven thirty-five give or take. 

Delilah used to complain about that too, how tired she would be in the morning He’d laugh at her and continue to make himself comfortable, it became a part of her routine. Some nights he’d come and others he wouldn’t, She never asked where he was when he didn’t come over. It didn’t feel right to ask that sort of question, they weren’t together and it didn’t matter if they were anyway, he didn’t like to answer questions. 

For everyone knowing so much about him they really knew very little about who he was, Patrick was a mystery he wouldn’t let anyone solve. 

She was sure Reggie knew he came over by now, but he never said anything to her about it, after he had his conversation with her about how he felt about the whole situation Reggie said nothing more on the topic. He wasn’t her father and he knew that, sure he’d keep an eye on her because he knew what kind of guy Patrick was but he had no authority to tell her that she couldn’t see him. 

People at school had noticed right away how Patrick treated her, Delilah was his new person of interest and that meant she was off limits. 

He’d slither up next to her when the Trans am would pull into the school parking lot, his arm would find its way around her shoulders. Which must have been a sight in itself, Patrick was tall and thin like a toothpick, and Delilah was short and thick. Her mother used to describe her as a pear, it used to bother her until it didn’t anymore. She never said a word to him about the way he’d touch her, choosing the route of ignoring him, and maybe just maybe he’d get bored. 

Delilah after a while wasn’t sure if she wanted him to get bored, it was wrong he was one of her cousins' friends, and maybe a creep. But there was something so alluring about Patrick, like a black cat on Halloween. 

The only time they were alone was in her bedroom late at night, any other time it was a crowded hallway or with the boys. 

It was a chilly Monday morning Delilah stood by her open locker flipping through textbooks, her tights were slightly itchy and she had forgotten her coat. She already knew without looking at the clock that she’d be late for first period. 

“Delilah.” Patrick’s voice was thick as usual, the way he said her name instead of hello made her heart to a back flip in her chest. He never said good morning to her, never said hello. He’d start every conversation with her name, sometimes he’d drag it out other times he’d purr like a cat. 

She didn’t look up this time as she continued to flip through her work. 

“Morning Patrick.” 

“ You wore my favourite skirt.” 

She looked down at the little black skirt she wore, it was totally not up to the dress code sitting high on her thighs, which is why she wore the tights. It wasn’t anything special, something she’d owned for years never thinking about. When she met his gaze he was smiling at her, he leaned casually on the locker next to hers. 

“ I didn’t know.” She offered with a shrug, this was the game they played, Delilah would act as if she didn’t care when they both knew it was a lie. 

“ Makes your ass look nice.” He leaned closer to her, another thing she noticed quickly was just how little he cared about personal space. Delilah rolled her eyes closing her locker. She shoved her work into her backpack, when she held it out to him she didn’t expect for him to actually take it. But he did. 

“ Jeez Patrick you sure know how to romance a girl.” She scoffed brushing past him, her arm touching his chest as she went. She hadn’t made it two steps before he already caught up, his long legs making it impossible to outrun him. Patricks' arm found its usual place around her shoulders, his thick coat sleeve was rough against the back of her neck. 

They walked down the empty hall toward her first class of the day, she wasn’t sure of his schedule but he always seemed to be waiting for her after her classes no matter where or when they were.  

“Admit it, you like it.” He had her backpack over his other shoulder, “It turns you on.” 

“Don’t be gross.” 

“That’s like asking a dog to stop barking babe.” 

Delilah could do nothing but roll her eyes in that moment, unsure of what else to say to him. To be fair she never quite knew what to say to him, having a conversation with him was like taking a toddler to get shots at the doctor's office. Most of the time he'd dodge you or simply ignore you, other times it was impossible to get him to shut up. 

He mostly did the second one when Henry was around, he liked to get on his nerves. Nothing made Patrick happier than seeing Henry red like a tomato, yelling terrible words. 

She stopped at her classroom door and he quite literally dropped her bag, she winced at the sound of everything inside hitting the floor. 

He didn’t stop walking only turned around to face her as he continued on his way, Delilah knew he wasn’t going to whatever class he was supposed to be in right now. She was never really sure where Patrick went and she was certain she didn't wanna find out. 

“ I’ll see you after class Patrick.” She bent down to pick up her backpack, He smiled his toothy grin, his cold eyes locked on hers. 

“Delilah.” 

~~~

When the thin wooden door opened after the bell rang, she was greeted with the sight of Patrick leaning casually against the wall across from it, his long black coat was an ink stain on the drab cream wall behind him. 

Reggie had just got done hissing something in his ear by the time she reached them through the sea of people. Her cousin seemed tense, which was normal when he was around Patrick. 

Reggie was a tall kid for his age, he was thick too but unlike Delilah, his was mostly muscle from working on his car and often times his mom's too. He was by no means a scary kid though, the way he held himself told everyone he wasn’t really the threat they thought he was, sure he could kick ass when he needed to. Or wanted to for that matter. But he was always gonna be the last one to throw a punch, he hated fighting and always had. 

It was always a mystery to Delilah how he got mixed up with Henry and Vic, someone like him was meant to be the hero. 

Growing up Delilah had always been the one to get into fights in school, and Reggie would always be the one to bail her out. He was her best friend. 

“ What’s going on?” She asked cocking her head, she had to speak a little louder in the hallway with all the voices echoing around them. 

“ Your Rottweiler got out of its yard.” Patrick drawled crossing his arms over his chest but didn’t get off the wall, his eyes traced her body then flicked over to her cousin when he added, “ We all know just how much I love dogs.” 

Vic had made a joke a few days ago about Reggie being her guard dog of sorts, something Patrick clearly hasn’t forgotten. The warning he gave hit home as Reggie took a step back the frown still on his face. The rumor about the fridge and all the missing pets jumps to her mind. 

“He’s more of a retriever.” Delilah shrugged walking in the general direction of the lawn, not caring to be in the middle of their pissing match this time. The sound of Patrick laughing followed her. 

Reggie grumbled something to him before catching up to her. 

“ Mom’s gonna be gone tonight I invited Henry and Vic over.” He told her gently, and with a much different demeanor than he had moments ago. “ You don't have to stay.” Reggie really was all bark and no bite. She smiled at the thought. 

“ If you’re ordering Pizza I’ll stay.” She offered, in reality, she didn’t mind hanging around the boys, sure Henry wasn’t her favourite person in the world, and she was far from his. But all in all they weren’t too bad, unless you were one of the freshmen or literally anyone else. 

“ Deal, Vic’s gonna bring over some movies too.” 

~~~

“ What would I be?” 

The sound of Patrick's voice startled her, Delilah had been painting her fingers and toes in her room, the door was closed but the sound of the three boys downstairs could still be heard, and she dropped the brush. 

Her window had been closed but not locked, He was halfway in when he had spoken. For someone as tall as he was his silence was terrifying. 

Delilah was Screaming before she could process anything, but his hand covered her mouth before she could really make any noise.

“ No, Delilah.” He whispered he smelled like fire and something she couldn’t explain, his skin was softer than she thought it’d be. His hand left her face but didn’t go far, it rested on her bent knee, she’d been painting her toes when he scared her, and the nice pastel blue was now all over the carpet. 

 Her eyes were still wide, his face just inches from hers, he scanned her face waiting for an answer to his previous question. 

“ W-What?” 

“ What would I be, if Belch is a Retriever, what am I?” 

Oh. 

She hadn’t even thought about that since it had happened, she couldn’t help but wonder why it was so important to him. She just stared at him for a while, he barely even blinked. Patrick would wait all night if that’s what it took, he’d get his answer. 

Henry downstairs laughed very loudly at something Vic said causing Reggie to tell him to shut up, their movie could be heard in the silent room. The breeze caused her to shiver a little. He tilted his head to the right. 

“ You’re not a dog.” She offered quietly, “ You’re like a cat. Why?” her question would go unanswered, he broke their eye contact to pick up the bottle of nail polish he looked at it for a long moment. 

“ I like the blue.” 

“ Thanks.” 

He sat back away from her, not far his knee touched her leg still because he had to. He still wore the clothes he was in at school but his jacket was long gone, there was mud on his shoes and on the bottom of his pant legs. He’d been in the woods. 

Patrick set the small bottle back on the book she’d been using as a flat surface, So he was staying for a while then. Delilah picked up the brush and began to finish painting her toes, it was strange that she didn’t even really feel him there anymore, her body wasn’t on edge like it had been when he first started hanging around. 

In fact she sorta liked him being around, the move to Derry had been harder than she would have liked to admit to anyone, even Reggie. Patrick coming around and staying was one steady thing she didn’t know she’d have. 

She’d finished the first coat and was about to begin the second when he spoke. 

“You’re not a dog.” He paused and she stopped moving, the brush hovering over her pinky, “ Or a cat, I don’t know what you are and I don’t like it.” 

It wasn’t often that Patrick offered up things like that, he rarely said anything of substance, a gross joke or comment. Something disturbing or even just making fun of some of the younger kids at school. 

She looked at him through her lashes, afraid that if she’d make eye contact she’d realize she was dreaming. His already dark eyes were pitch black in the light of her lamp, She once had asked Reggie if Patrick was always a starer. He simply laughed and nodded as if it was some sort of joke she didn’t understand. 

Patrick was always the last one to break eye contact, like a contest of sorts. 

“ I’m sorry.” Delilah didn’t know what to say to him, most of the time she didn’t know what to say to him, he always took her words. 

“ Don’t” He stood up quickly startling her again, she put the brush back in the bottle and watched him as he moved back to the window, she was afraid he was leaving already, like she’d ruined it. 

Delilah was taken by surprise when he instead closed her window with a dull thud, cutting off the strangely cold breeze. She’d been freezing but she hadn’t said anything knowing he wouldn’t care, the tank top she wore to bed had done nothing against the Derry night air. Of course, he’d noticed her shivering, the goosebumps on her arms, it was strange for him to do something about it. 

She almost told him he could take his shoes off. Almost. 

“ I should go downstairs.” He turned back to her with his shit-eating grin, his mood taking a sudden turn after his almost serious conversation, “ Say hi to Belch.”

“ Patrick he’ll kill you if he sees you come from my room.” Delilah stands too, painting her nails long forgotten. 

His smile only widened as he pushed past her, his shoulder hitting hers on his way past her. Patrick opened her bedroom door and she could only watch as he stepped out into the hallway and looked around. 

“ C’mon Delilah.” He held out his hand for her, she looked from his open palm to his face. Just when she thought she was finally getting to know just who he was Patrick would throw a curve ball. She grabbed a jacket from her bed and set her hand in his, He held on tight as he marched down the stairs into the living room. 

Whatever joke Vic had been making about the shitty horror movie they had on died on his lips as he caught sight of Patrick and her on the stairs together. The soda can in his hand lowered from his mouth which hung open. 

Reggie turned around in his chair to see what he was watching. Delilah wasn’t sure she’d ever seen him stand up so fast before. The paper plate with his slice of pizza fell to the floor with a wet thump. Even Henry was at a loss for words, his eyebrows melted into a frown easily. 

“ What the fuck?” Henry was the first one to speak. 

“ Delilah!” Reggie's voice was loud, she dropped Patrick's hand at the sound. She wasn’t afraid of him, but she also didn’t wanna make him mad, this was Reggie after all. She stepped around Patrick to stand between him and everyone else. Vic took a small drink of his soda eyes flicking between an absolutely irate Reggie and a grinning Patrick. 

“What is he doing here, When did he even get here?” Reggies fired off question after question, “ Why was he in your room?” He made his way closer. 

“I’ve been nice to her Reg.” Patrick’s voice was sickly sweet, using the nickname Delilah had given her cousin years ago.

“ Shut up Patrick!” Delilah threw over her shoulder, sometimes she hated him she really did. “Reggie, nothing happened he’s just weird, I didn’t invite him over, even if I did nothing was gonna happen.” She directed these words at her cousin, His eyes narrowed. 

“ Something could have happened.” 

“ Patrick.” Her voice was another warning, if he kept it up she’d kick his ass before Reggie even got the chance. 

“ Delilah you know how I feel about it.” Reggie wouldn’t even look at Patrick now, “ He’s a sicko.” 

“ Yeah, we’ve covered that. But I've discovered he’s very persistent when he wants to be.” She took a step closer to Reggie crossing her arms over her chest, Her voice got quieter her eyes jumped to Henry and Vic who watched quietly. She could tell Henry was waiting for a fight to break out ready to jump in, it didn’t matter that he didn’t care. Henry was always willing to throw hands. Vic watched with a more worried look on his face, he would be the one to try and de-escalate the situation if need be. 

“ Listen, Reggie, I’m smart I’d kick his ass if he tried anything I didn’t like. You know I can handle myself.” He watched her his shoulders dropped letting go of the tension just a little bit. 

She was right and he knew it, Delilah was strong and more than capable. Reggie always saw her as someone he had to take care of just like his mom, they were his two favourite people and the fact that someone like Patrick and weaseled his way into her life bothered him like nothing else. 

He’d seen how Patrick treated any of the girls he’d been with before, the list was long and it always ended with someone, always the girl getting hurt in some way or another. Reggie would be damned if he’d let it happen to his cousin. 

“ It’s not you, I’m worried about.” He watched Patrick over her head, the tall boy smiled and waved a little. He knew what he was doing, and Reggie wasn’t sure just how far he’d go with this thing of his. With a guy like him, no one knew where it’d end. 

Delilah smiled and shook her head. 

“ Can we all just sit down and finish this movie?” She asked looking to Vic for help, He nodded and sat back down turning to the tv that had previously been forgotten. “ You and I can talk later Reg.” She offered knowing she’d dodge the conversation for as long as possible. 

Whatever was going on with her and Patrick she wasn’t really ready to talk about, with anyone for that matter. 

She felt Patrick move to stand close behind her, his breath on her neck. 

[stonerbughead]

my top 25 ships

okay so @userlaylivia answered a @maya-matlin ask about her top 25 ships earlier and for some reason my brain also needed to accept the challenge

1. Betty/Jughead (Riverdale)

2. Nancy/Ace (Nancy Drew)

3. Nate/Bronwyn (One of Us is Lying)

4. Jess/Rory (Gilmore Girls)

5. Pacey/Joey (Dawson’s Creek)

6. Seth/Summer (The OC)

7. JT/Liberty (Degrassi)

8. Nathan/Haley (One Tree Hill)

9. Rich/Grace (Skins)

10. Steven/Taylor (The Summer I Turned Pretty)

11. Jordan/Layla (All American)

12. JJ/Kiara (Outer Banks)

13. Shelby/Toni (The Wilds)

14. Janine/Gregory (Abbott Elementary)

15. Spencer/Olivia (All American)

16. Gert/Chase (Marvel’s Runaways)

17. Kate/Anthony (Bridgerton)

18. Lockwood/Lucy (Lockwood & Co)

19. Pip/Ravi (A Good Girl’s Guide to Murder)

20. Veronica/Archie (Riverdale)

21. April/Andy (Parks and Rec)

22. Jim/Pam (The Office)

23. Luke/Lorelai (Gilmore Girls)

24. Matt/Julie (Friday Night Lights)

25. Casey/Izzie (Atypical)

Honorable mentions: Cheryl/Toni (Riverdale), Belly/Conrad (TSITP), Ryan/Marissa (The OC), Logan/Veronica (Veronica Mars), Brooke/Julian (One Tree Hill), David/Patrick (Schitt’s Creek)

UPDATED WITH A GIF FOR PIPRAVI <33333

[ninjaturtlemaniac]

which artist do you wish to have a voice in the next trolls movie?

Hello Gorgeous 💖

They should do the equivalent with Anna Kendrick with what they did with Justin Timberlake and NSYNC.

PITCH PERFECT VOICES!

I mean they already had Skylar Austin (Jesse in Pitch Perfect) as Branch in the TV Show.

ESTER DEAN we were ROBBED. She is Cynthia Rose in Pitch Perfect and she voices Legsly. They have this absolutely legendary singer/songwriter/actress and Legsly is barely in the movie! 🔥 I think they should use her again in the future and actually utilize her voice which is why I cast her as one of my OCs. 😊

But I can imagine them casting Ruby Rose as a random Troll. Not sure who, maybe a Rock Troll. Ohhh she can be my other OC 😈 sweet.

Should I just write an OC list with their voices? Okay you talked me into it. ❤️‍🔥💋

Main Characters Children:

Princess Harmony 🎶 - Hilary Duff (Lizzie McGuire)

Princess Rosiepuff 🌹- Hailee Steinfeld (Pitch Perfect)

Prince Ace - Currently a baby but when he is older? Jesse McCartney.

Princess Clover 🍀- Nicki Minaj 😏

Prince Birdie 🐦- Juan Pablo De Pace (Fernando in Fuller House)

Angel 🪽- Donald Glover (Childish Gambino)

Phoenix 🔥- Jared Padalecki (Sam from Supernatural)

Sugar Gals:

Sable 🍸- Emmy Rossum (Fiona from Shameless)

Sage 🛍️- Amanda Seyfreid (Karen Sykes from Mean Girls)

Scout 🪖- Stephanie Beatriz (Rosa from Brooklyn 99)

Summer 🫧- Ester Dean (Cynthia Rose from Pitch Perfect)

Sonnet 🎨- Kerry Washington (Olivia Pope from Scandal)

Floyd's Ex Boyfriend Saga:

Cider 🍺- Robert Patrick (Terminator)

Steel 🎸- Will Arnett (Arrested Development)

Dom ❤️- Zachary Levi (Chuck/Shazam/Flynn Ryder)

Halen 🥀- Ruby Rose (From Pitch Perfect) (Dom's Sister named for Van Halen)

Cabaret 🪶 - Alex Brightman (Fizzarolli from Helluva Boss)

Jewel 💎- J.K Simmons (J. Jonah. Jameson in Spiderman)

These will most likely change 😈😝

[auroras-blog37]

BACKUP ACCOUNT

(I got logged out of my other account😭)

@auroras-space25

Hello Tickle Community🫐

☁︎︎Hi! I’m Aurora☁︎︎

I’m new to the tickle community so here are some things about my new blog💌

My requests are open and I will write fics and headcanons ♡︎

I only write for 𝐌𝐚𝐥𝐞 characters/people and from a 𝐅𝐞𝐦𝐚𝐥𝐞 reader perspective ✧

I will write for 𝐋𝐞𝐞!𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫, 𝐋𝐞𝐫!𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫, 𝐒𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐜𝐡!𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫, 𝐃𝐚𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐞𝐫!𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫, 𝐒𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫!𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫, 𝐑𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩!𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫, 𝐏𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐧𝐢𝐜!𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫, 𝐓𝐞𝐞𝐧!𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𑁍

I’m 18 years old so I’m not very into NSFW content ☽

My prompts are 100% open! Please feel free to put through any ideas ♧︎

I write for 𝐌𝐚𝐥𝐞 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 and also 𝐌𝐚𝐥𝐞 𝐂𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐛𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐞𝐬 from my list of Fandoms below✬

Messages are open but please be kind and respectful, you are free to ask anything whether it’s about tickling or not, just please be respectful ✫彡

Fandoms I Write For:

𝐓𝐯 𝐒𝐡𝐨𝐰𝐬:ꨄ

Supernatural (Sam, Dean, Gabriel, Crowley, Castiel) (Jared, Jensen, Misha) 𝐏𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐤𝐬 𝐀𝐧𝐝 𝐓𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐥𝐞𝐬 (Sam and Dean) 𝐁𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐝 𝐇𝐚𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐀𝐧𝐝 𝐓𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐥𝐞𝐬 (Jensen) “𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐂𝐚𝐧’𝐭 𝐋𝐢𝐞 𝐓𝐨 𝐀𝐧 𝐀𝐫𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐥.” (Gabriel) 𝐓𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐥𝐞 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬 (Sam, Dean, Castiel, Gabriel, Crowley)

The Last Of Us (Joel) (Pedro)

Gilmore Girls (Dean, Jess, Logan, Tristan, Luke) 𝐓𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐥𝐞 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬 (Jess, Dean, Logan)

Teen Wolf (Stiles, Scott, Derek, Liam, Isaac) (Dylan O’Brien

Criminal Minds (Spencer, Hotch, Derek) (Matthew)

The OC (Seth, Ryan)

Daredevil (Matt Murdock) 𝐓𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐥𝐞 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬 (Matt)

The Vampire Diaries (Damon, Stefan, Enzo, Klaus, Elijah) 𝐓𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐥𝐞 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬 (Stefan, Damon, Klaus, Elijah)

Brooklyn 99 (Jake)

Outerbanks (John B, JJ, Pope, Rafe, Barry)

The Summer I Turned Pretty (Cameron, Steven, Conrad)

American Horror Story (Tate, James, Kit) (Evan)

Stranger Things (Steve, Eddie, Jonathan, Hopper) (Joe Keery, Joseph Quinn, Finn Wolfhard)

Grey’s Anatomy (Derek, Alex, Mark) 𝐑𝐢𝐛 𝐄𝐱𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 (Derek Shepherd)

𝐌𝐨𝐯𝐢𝐞𝐬:★

10 Things I Hate About You (Patrick, Cameron)

Scream 1-6 (Billy, Stu, Dewey, Chad)

Twilight (Edward, Jasper, Emmett, Carlisle, Charlie)

The Maze Runner (Thomas, Newt, Minho) (Dylan, Thomas)

Pirates Of The Caribbean (Jack, Will) (Johnny)

MCU (Tony, Steve, Bucky, Peter Q, Peter Parker (Tom Holland & Andrew SpiderMan) Thor, Bruce + The Actors) 𝐓𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐥𝐞 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬 (Tom!Peter Parker) Cuddles And Tickles (Andrew!Peter)

𝐌𝐮𝐬𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐧𝐬/𝐁𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐬:♫

Mötley Crüe (Tommy, Vince, Nikki) 𝐇𝐚𝐢𝐫 𝐒𝐭𝐲𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐀𝐧𝐝 𝐓𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐥𝐞𝐬 (Tommy)

Dave Grohl

Metallica (Kirk, James, Lars, Dave)

Guns N Roses (Slash, Duff)

Alex Turner

One Direction (Harry, Niall, Zayn Liam)

[theirmadness]

muse update list!

below the cut you will find: deleted muses i think aren't going anywhere. if we have any interactions with these muses, please consider them null. thanks!

all fantastic beast muses.

all cursed child era muses.

tom riddle.

severus snape.

sirius black.

remus lupin.

bucky barnes.

steve rogers.

hope van dyne.

thor odinson.

tony stark.

magneto.

thanos.

matt murdock.

bruce wayne.

arthur curry.

clark kent.

dr. fate.

starfire.

lois lane.

anakin skywalker.

kylo ren.

10th-12th doctor.

dean winchester.

castiel.

nicholas scratch.

gabriel.

daemon targaryen.

jon snow.

aragorn.

gandalf.

legolas.

thranduil.

smaug.

geralt.

jaskier.

belle french.

hannibal lecter.

charlie swan.

carlisle cullen.

edward cullen.

damon salvatore.

niklaus mikaelson.

stefan salvatore.

van helsing.

alice cooper.

hermione lodge.

hiram lodge.

alcide herveaux.

bill compton.

eric northman.

john watson.

mycroft holmes.

atticus lincoln.

amelia shepherd.

greg house.

aaron hotchner.

joe goldberg.

emily prentiss.

eve polastri.

joe goldberg.

ellie settler.

jeanine matthews.

lorraine warren.

doric.

ed warren.

jim preston.

ian malcolm.

oc muses:

agna blake.

bambi elsher.

bess cromwell.

bianca delaveaux.

camilla souza.

dahlia ledger.

elia sandstone.

emily reacher.

grace stevens.

george star.

harriet stark.

jane williams.

kitty green.

margot peach.

nymeria sand.

ophelia dragos.

pearl james.

roxy blue.

ruby andrews.

summer hayes.

suzanne preacher.

jean taylor.

gertrud northman.

jack smithman.

juliana marques.

madame erin.

margaret greene.

edward charles.

elias karlson.

jack wallace.

max everwell.

philip windsor.

tiresias iamus thebeus.

belial.

brandon strage.

christopher smith.

daniel williams.

dante smith.

harry williams.

ian caroll.

jeffrey cole.

patrick wright.

paul smith.