#on a real note life has been a whole cluster fuck and I’ve needed some time away for my mental health

[maggieisalarrie]

Happy Halloween from your favorite sparkly butterfly 🦋

[mandareeboo]

SU Music Rankings

Bc I can and I wanna start some Disk Horse rip. These are all in order of preference, with explanations, etc. It’s a long bitch. That said, I’m not counting little short jingles or small joke songs like Little Butler. This is the meat and potatoes of SU music- just under 30 songs. I might do the rest if people like my takes lol.

I scored it mostly on three bases- how dear it was to my heart, how much/often I relisten to it, and also what it means to the plot. That said, little fun songs don’t automatically go farther down than big, plot-heavy songs either! It’s a strange little balance.

Special Note: I don’t dislike any of this music! I love SU and that includes its bumps and glitches. I just pick favorite children lol.

1.) Change

Was there ever a more Steven moment than when he wiped the blood off his face and kissed it into sparkles? I think not. 

If “Be Wherever You Are” is an ode to young Steven, then this is teen Steven’s. Talking about change, and how much and how little it can do. How he holds his arms up for Spinel to hug him, so trusting. How he seems able to just. Break into soft tears at will, and not to be manipulative- it’s just his kind nature. The warmth in his voice. Fuck yesssss.

2.) Change Your Mind

This song is only fifty five seconds and it’s EVERYTHING to me. It really felt like someone was speaking the words I’d always held deep inside of me, unsure of how to say. It feels like a goodbye to someone who never really loved me. 

As much as I enjoyed Future, if this was the finale of SU, I would’ve been perfectly okay with that.

3.) Drift Away

This song gave me legitimate shivers the first time I heard it, and it still haunts me to this day. Spinel stayed, and waited, and all she got was a transmission thousands of years later. Fuck.

4.) Here We Are In The Future

THE MOVIE IS SU AS ITS BEST AND I WON’T BE SWAYED ON IT. Steven being a teen who loves his weird family but is growing just a bit sarcastic to their drama. The adorable love he and Connie share. His slow realization that he will always be working, always have things to do, is both somber and real. The Crystal Gems won’t be safe with one epic battle. They’ll be safe with years of hard work and love. HIS LITTLE HANDSHAKE WITH AMETHYST.

This is a helluva bop and a great way to summarize the main character’s backstories.

5.) Let’s Only Think About Love

Did ya’ll know that Zach Callison killed his throat with that last note? He gave his all for this performance in a vocal range he no longer comfortably do and by god did it SHINE. The FLAIR. The FORESHADOWING. All of the Gems all being awkward about Rose and Steven trying to bring them to the present. Peridot having a mini-existential crisis in a cute yellow dress. I love Zach Callison’s normal singing voice but man is that a fucking bop. Nothing will ever beat it.

6.) Here Comes A Thought

This bad boy helped me out a LOT with some mental issues I was dealing with in high school. I was unmedicated, unsupervised, and full of anxiety. I’d have break downs when I tried to speak about certain things. I couldn’t function. This song inspired me. It helped me feel okay with my intrusive thoughts.

And the episode! -chef’s kiss-. Once again bringing up the morally gray area of training child soldiers. Connie expanding her social group. Steven’s trauma hauling ass in that second half. The ANIMATION. Stevonnie’s gorgeous singing voice. GOD yes.

7.) It’s Over Isn’t It?

Just barely squeaking above Stronger Than You, this ballad is everything gorgeous. The whole episode is. I think Mr. Greg stands in the top five of my episodes for the entire show. It even got nominated!

There’s just so much about this song that I love. The gentle melancholy of Pearl’s voice. How the crew had to redo the shots for this bit bc Deedee went so fucking hard. The hard cuts between Pearl, remembering the love of her life, and Steven, who has begun to feel like he took her away. I’d recommend this song to anyone, regardless of what they do or don’t know about SU, simply bc it tugs so many heartstrings of love, loss, and responsibility.

8.) Stronger Than You

Did you realize this episode aired SEVEN years ago? This bitch was what got me into SU! Hearing about Ruby and Sapphire made my little gay heart so happy inside, and then getting a whole song confirming that they were a couple, that their love powered the strongest Gem on the team? Aaaaaaaaa

To this DAY I get excited when I hear Estelle start singing. This song is timeless. This song will live in media history. God I fucking love this song.

9.) Other Friends

I’m not the biggest musical person, so I hadn’t heard of Sarah Stiles before her casting as Spinel, but JESUS CHRIST the lady went hard. She went SO fucking hard. Sarah Stiles started on 100 and somehow just kept CLIMBING. You can just hear the sheer manic energy building in her voice, the anger and resentment. 10/10 Sarah Stiles is a queen.

10.) Independent Together

This made the list entirely bc the crew was like “you’re gonna get a himbo ass Steven-Greg fusion singing with Opal while Garnet flies across the moon on Lion while floating” and I am forever thankful to them for it

11.) Who We Are

Bismuth deserved more songs. ‘Nuff said.

12.) Peace and Love (On the Planet Earth)

It Could’ve been Great is EASILY one of my favorite s2 episodes. I love the entire concept of this song. Of Steven making music to reflect how much Earth means to him and his family. Of him teaching Peridot some self-care. Also Peridot’s singing voice is really cute and squeaky. 

I know it’s silly, but I would’ve really enjoyed a flip around of this in Future! Like Peridot reminding Steven how much he loves music, that he needs to take time to relax for himself, maybe with a new verse or just a remix of the original song!

13.) Something Entirely New

I watched this episode as it aired, and I legitimately almost cried. I love Charlyne Yi’s voice so much ya’ll- her raspy, not perfect singing voice against Sapphire’s deep soothing lull is great.

And to have Ruby and Sapphire’s meeting be the way it was- for Ruby to bemoan Sapphire losing Homeworld, to being stuck with a single Ruby, while Sapphire is a noble who has always been taught everyone in her “caste” is vitally important (and has, in her own mind, taken that to mean every Gem, as she should) and how they come together and make each other happy. Good shit good shit.

14.) I’m Just a Comet

The fact that Greg’s music career never really blasted off pisses me off to this day bc Tom Scharpling’s voice is fucking BUTTER. Also the song really feels like a jab at his parents now that we know the kind of dynamic he had growing up. “This life in the stars if all I’ve ever known” is definitely him wiping away their existence after reminding them (and himself) the things they used to say about him.

15.) Do It For Her

This episode. This fucking episode. This episode got me permanently hooked on SU. I’d just binged season 1 and was kinda meh about it overall after the bop of Stronger Than You. “Oh,” I thought to myself, foolishly, “I’ll probably just casually watch this from time to time.”

Like three days later Sworn to the Sword aired and that was it. I was hooked! Pearl’s gentle training song turning darker and darker, Connie’s accompaniment from nervous to determined to fully into such a toxic mindset. The fact that SU had the BALLS to discuss the repercussions of training child soldiers, now and later. This episode was everything to me, STILL is everything to me.

Six years and well over 100 fanfics written later, I think it’s safe to say this show swallowed me whole and never let go.

16.) System/Boot.pearl_final(3)

I debated putting this on the list because it’s not anything crazy important, just a way to show things are Wrong, but I had to do it entirely bc Pearl is so damn SALTY.

Like telling us about the Gems makes sense, she felt like she was given a duty, but she went so damn petty. WHY is that Ruby alone. Gross. This Amethyst is a trash dump. Wtf are you people.

17.) Full Disclosure

This episode really feels like a turning point for SU. Before, the show had its dark moments- but now we’re in the thick of it, and it’s not going away. Full Disclosure felt like an rebuff to the idea of returning to any normal we’d established in season 1. Gems are actually a giant species now. Gems tried to kill us now. There’s this Yellow Diamond bitch who got namedropped. Something about a Cluster. 

The song itself is BALLER, with its ingenious use of Steven’s ringtone and photos as he tries to decide whether to clue in Connie on all this nonsense. Meanwhile we, the audience, already know damn well Connie about to yeet some common sense into him.

18.) What’s the Use of Feeling Blue?

I’mma admit it- I’m a Yellow Diamond stan. I’ve always loved her- her anger, her poise, her hardworking nature. I actively argued against the “Yellow Shattered Pink” theories back in the day. But, man, when this arc leaked? I got so overexcited I was too jittery to watch it for like two days. It’s easily my favorite arc of the series. The sheer alien nature of the zoo, the Famethyst, and absolutely Patti Lupone’s beautiful ballad. Goddamn. Yellow singing to Blue to try and help her regain her old status, the warble in her voice as she reminds Blue she misses Pink too, the movement of the bubbles as she talks about attack. It gives me shivers to this day. FUCK.

19.) Tower of Mistakes

This is, fun fact, that only SU song I have completely memorized. The story itself is kinda funny! See, we lost internet at my house for a solid 5 to 6 months when these episodes aired, so I only got a very brief window to view them all. But this was the first Amethyst song in a long while, and I didn’t want to forget it! So I keep replaying it in my head for ages. And that’s still definitely a thing.

Anyway will never not be sad that this entire song was about making it up to Garnet for Amethyst’s perceived slights with Sugilite (which was a two-way road), only for Garnet to pressure her into fusion later when pissed and never discuss it again bc Garnet probably never thought twice about it and Amethyst has the emotional openness of a clam that’s just been told its ugly. Helluva way to make someone feel like shit, G. Helluva way to bottle that shit, Ames.

20.) On the Run

I’ve said it once, I’ve said it a million times: Amethyst! Needed! More! Songs! 

The dichotomy between Steven’s play and Amethyst’s honest desire to run away from home is so well-done, especially when you consider a lot of Steven and Amethyst’s actions are playing together. The song is also near and dear to me simply bc it’s my favorite Amethyst episode to exist (well, maybe second to What’s Your Problem, but not by much). Moments like these are all the proof I need that they were right to fuse first.

21.) Be Wherever You Are

This tune really just feels like an ode to who Steven was as a kid. Trapped on an island with no way home, and he’s just happy to be with his friends. The stars are beautiful and not oppressive. Also that one animatic with Lars and the Off Colors playing in the Homeworld Kindergarten to this music was iconic and made this song get stuck in my head for a solid month.

22.) Familiar

I ADORE how the crew use bright neon colors to show how alien Homeworld can be. And Steven recognizing that the Diamonds treat him how the CGs used to, and how prepared he is to “fix” a broken family. It’s a soft, gentle tune about melancholy. Also the Pebbles are beautiful.

23.) Let Me Drive My Van Into Your Heart

Such a cute little love ballad, but every time I listen to it now I just imagine the heart attack Rose must’ve had at the line “And if we look out of place/Well, baby, that's okay/I'll drive us into outer space.” like there’s a Vietnam war flashback if I ever heard one

24.) What Can I Do?

I’m kind of neutral on this one? Rose and Greg both have great voices, but the song itself lacks many lyrics. I think it was definitely a good way to show Rose’s flaws in thinking.

Also, I’m shocked they managed cram that much vaguely sexual innuendo into two minutes, followed by how Not Hetereo that dance between Rose and Pearl was, and not get their asses chewed by it. You go guys.

25.) Cookie Cat

I love a lot of the vibes this song has. The lyrics are so damn prophetic, but they also sound like the kind of weird 90s commercials I grew up on. It’s been like two decades since I saw the Shirley Temple commercial but I’ll be damned if I don’t remember “Animals crackers in my soup! Monkey and rabbits loop-de-loop.”

26.) Giant Woman

I am. NOT the biggest fan of Steven’s original singing voice. I feel bad saying that, since it was just Zach Callison as a kid, but he never jived well with me for some reason. So I wouldn’t listen to this on the fly. 

The song itself is still really good though, with all sorts of fun animation of Amethyst and Pearl being bitchy to each other. It’s a bit sad in hindsight to see tiny Steven trying to get his moms to get along. Ahh, season 1.

27.) Strong in the Real Way

This song has SUCH a strong start. Pearl reflecting on Sugilite’s problems, but the show making sure to show us that Pearl’s lack of enthusiasm towards her also lends itself to jealousy as well as just general malaise. How much she cares about Steven, and wants him to grow up strong. 

And then Steven just kinda. Ruins it? I appreciate his enthusiasm for tryna bulk up but to take what was starting as such a rich, personal song and broadcasting it to random strangers just makes me a bit sad. Almost a bit angry on her behalf?

28.) That Distant Shore

I KNOW this is gonna create some discourse, but I’m just not the biggest Lapis stan. I love her voice. I love the visuals of the song. And I get why she felt afraid and needed to flee.

But Lapis never got to take responsibility for her own actions. And, in the end, the song feels hollow to me- because we all know she’ll never talk to anyone about it, know she’ll burst back in and destroy the barn, and no one will ever question it. I like Lapis a lot, but I feel like her arc never was fully finished. She never got help. She never learned to feel safe.

29.) Dear Old Dad

I’ve yet to meet a single human being who likes this episode tbh. There’s some great discussion about what kind of parent Greg is from it, and what kind of dynamic he has with the Gems that he felt he had to fake an injury to hang out with his son. Honestly the first half was fine and dandy. It’s just that then they Greg just went out of his way to drag Steven away from missions and such. It never jived well with his character before or after.

Also, is it just me, or does Zach himself sound like he hates the song as he sings it? There’s no passion or heart in his voice. It sounds like they told him to read off cue cards and he did. Tom Scharpling’s best attempts didn’t save this one for being a skipper. But the episode, unfortunately, isn’t, so it gets a spot on here.

[loftec]

Heyyyyy girl! We haven't talked in a hot minute, but I just finished reading I Will Follow Him earlier and hadn't had a chance to comment when a friend brought the nonsense anon tumblr drama to my attention. Anyway, I'll just say you handled it much more gracefully than I ever would (and probably have in the past, lmao). And I know you have a thick skin and this isn't something that would make you stop writing, but I still just wanted to let you know that I've missed your writing. I don't know if it's just in my head, but having been around the fandom for roughly the same amount of time as you have, I've discerned patterns in terms of the way people write and even what they respond to as readers, and the cliques that get formed around those things, so that to me it feels like even the fic itself generally has eras of writing styles? Like in my head I kind of cluster people together who seem simpatico in regards to the way they write IxM, but also how they express themselves and the way stories flow, whether there's depth of emotion or not, etc, etc. Anyway, for whatever reason, true or psychological, I find myself missing an era of fic that feels gone now. Not to say that there isn't any good writing anymore, just that it's simply a different vibe. So your new fic really brought me back to that old feeling. You always defy expectations when you adapt something into your own thing, so right off the bat I was pleasantly surprised that you, knowing Johnny Castle was not a completely accurate fit for Mickey because dancing/performing and also being a big man whore with the ladies (lmao), decided to subvert that and make him someone else. And Ian was Baby, but also not. My favorite thing though is the unspoken way you really showed Ian not feeling like he belongs anywhere. He has two families and none of them feel like home. I've felt that way my whole life and it's an emotional theme that's always been highly relevant. Makes you feel like there's nowhere you actually belong or anyone you really belong with. So I loved that aspect and look forward to it being explored more in the sequel(s). I thought your ending to this part of the story was realistic, even if I teared up and felt the loss. I could imagine a bit of a time jump and them meeting in completely different circumstances down the line. Again, totally unexpected that you wouldn't even include the big dance at the end, but fucking bravo honestly, because I couldn't picture some cheesy shit where Mickey dances with Ian in front of everyone for shock value and do the lift. Lolololllll... but yeah... do people honestly think Baby & Johnny lived happy ever after once the credits rolled on the actual movie anyway??? No way in hell. Lol. They were too different in ways that couldn't be overcome back then, sorry. He was meant to be her sexual/romantic awakening, and she went on to have a freer life. That's what I think. Ian & Mickey have a lot more in common, and although they have obstacles to overcome, they ultimately will be able to understand each other, and I think, get on the same page eventually. So please, think no more of any hate-adjacent crap you got or will get for this, because you'll always have a willing audience here, and we enjoy your voice so much. 💜

Hey my friend! It sure has been a hot minute, and this is so interesting! I hadn't even really thought about it, but I think you're on to something here. I haven't really read IxM fic in a good while and I kind of just figured that it was all on me because I have changed over the years, but it makes so much sense that the fic culture would change too. The characters are different, the tone is different, the fandom is different... it stands to reason that the fic is different too. I remember how fascinated I used to be with finding demarcations of time in fic, going back chronologically through the tag on AO3. Season 1 fic felt one way, season 2 a whole other way, etc. I suppose we're yet another ring in the ever growing oak tree of this fandom, lol. We're vintage, baby! You want some of those season 5 vibes? You know where to go, these angsty oldies over here writing increasingly absurd AU in 2021, they got what you need.

All of this means so much to me, you have no idea, especially knowing some of these ideas resonated with you personally like that. I've been thinking about this dang AU for several years at this point and I'm a little bit frustrated that I didn't find a way to give the actual writing of it the time it deserved, but I guess I gave it all the time I had, in the end. So that's something. I hope to muster some enthusiasm to go back and perhaps edit it a bit more soon, or at least start working on the sequels. I was traveling with my dad last weekend and I played some of my playlists for him, telling him about all my silly research and plans, and I now have three books about Soul in the late 60s to read. So you know the next part is gonna be real approachable! 😆

I think I somehow imagined that everybody knows and loves Dirty Dancing, too? I never talked to anyone about it when I was a kid, and it's only really the last four years or so that I have started meeting people who love it, like me. And turns out it's all my friends from primary school! It's all of my coworkers (at least the women), and it's so many of my tumblr mutuals... I was halfway convinced that every single person around me was just waiting to reveal themselves as another fan. Not so much, turns out! Writing a 60s dirty dancing AU is really weird, honestly! I expected two people to read my MiB AU, and I should have had the same expectations for this one. Because that's fine! I will write what I want to write and people will read what they want to read, as it should be.

Most importantly, though. I couldn't agree more with your Dirty Dancing analysis! To me, the dancing isn't the actual ending. To me, the ending is "guess we surprised everybody" and "I'll never be sorry" and "neither will I". The dance number is just a good note Johnny comes back to end it all on, but really, the honest final note is that "I'll see ya" *saxophone solo intensifies*. I just think it's so very bittersweet and good, and I only loved the movie more when I realised this. With Ian, everything became more complicated. Clayton is no Dr Houseman, and there can be no cheesy onstage dancing, and Ian has barely had time to wrap his head around the idea of having a future at all, being himself, let alone spending it with someone he just met. The Dirty Dancing AU needed to end this way for it to truly be a Dirty Dancing AU, in my mind. The next part will be something entirely different, and operate under a different set of narrative rules... Oooh well, look at me. I'm all excited about it. I can't wait to write it!

Thank you 💜💜

[sluttyten]

sweet like honey

summary: the day you meet johnny suh and park seonghwa is the day your dreams become reality. fucking two super hot idols? who would say no to that. but the catch is that neither of them know about the other until the secret comes out, and the following competition is one that you never want to miss out on.

words: 13,338

tags: fuckbuddies, kinda dom/sub, possession kink, choking, spanking, kitty/daddy kink, oral (female and male receiving), threesome, jealousy, lots of smut, maybe a tiny bit of angst?, idk there’s some aftercare in there if you squint

pairing: johnny x reader, seonghwa x reader, johnny x reader x seonghwa

When you got the opportunity to work closely with idols, this dream had clung insistently to you: meeting and falling in love with one of the dozens of gorgeous idols you were given contact with. At first, it hadn’t seemed likely. Not that the idols you worked with weren’t attractive or anything like that, but they were always busy, distracted, and focused. They didn’t have time to fall in love with you.

And then you met Johnny. 

NCT was massive and you were the lucky (or possibly unlucky depending on how things swung) staff member who would be taking care of the needs of not only NCT but several other groups who had their dressing rooms in that cluster. You had NCT, Ateez, Stray Kids. 

They had their own staffs, their managers and stuff, but you worked for the broadcast company and it was your responsibility to make sure that they were actually supposed to be where they were supposed to be at the right time in a good mood ready to go, all mic-ed up and everything.

And Johnny was something else. From the moment you walked through the door he caught your eye. He smiled and laughed, a larger than life personality, and as you were talking with them, going over some basic things, he was staring at you with such an intensity that you were almost uncomfortable, but also fairly turned on as well. 

The look in his eyes was something like hunger, like he could devour you whole, ravish you, ruin you.

You fled the room as soon as possible, feeling very warm, possibly a little sweaty. Your head spun and you pushed into the dressing room next door to give the same talk on basic things as you’d just done.

Immediately you collide with Ateez’s Seonghwa.

“Oh, are you okay?” He asks, catching you by the elbows as you bounce back off his chest. 

“I’m sorry! I’m so sorry!” You straighten the headset you’re wearing just as someone begins speaking in a low buzzing voice for all of the staff to hear. “I’m fine, thank you.”

Seonghwa looks down at you, his eyes gentle on you, taking note of your flushed cheeks. His thumb almost absentmindedly strokes your elbow and your knees feel a little weak from that minimal touch.

He looks at you as if you’re the first girl he’s seen in a while. His gaze drops to your lips, and you have to snap yourself out of it before you let him draw you into doing something you’ll regret, his magnetism too strong for you to deny when he’s touching your arm and looking at you like that.

You look away and see that a few of the group’s staff members are looking at you and Seonghwa, so you pull away and move over to make your announcement.

Luckily, dealing with the other few groups you’ve got isn’t as difficult. There are no attractive members muddling your mind with their eyes or touch.

Things run smoothly that day and you think that’s that. You survived the day and now you’ve even got a little bit of something to feed your fantasies. You think you’ll be clear of dealing with them again, of having your mind fucked like that.

Just as you’re about to leave for the day, hanging up your headset and grabbing your bag, another member of the staff walks in.

“You heading home?” He asks, dropping off his headset as well. Then he looks toward the door, glances around, and looks back at you, and quickly whispers, “Earlier one of the idols gave me his info.”

“Oh, really? That’ll be fun!” You smile, thinking it’ll be nice for him to find a guy. He’s told you before that he’s rather picky about guys plus he’s not comfortable going out to places that are specifically gay. If he’s met a gay idol who’s interested in him, you’re excited for him.

He frowns for a moment, and then says, “No, not for me. No, he said he wanted you to have it. I told him it’s against the rules, but he just gave it to me in case you’d want it.”

He passes a little slip of paper over to you, folded up small. You look down at it, then back up at him. The doorway is still empty, everywhere around you still quiet, so you risk asking, “Whose is it?”

“NCT’s Johnny.” He bites his lip around a smile. “If he wants you, then you’d better go for it. Have you seen him? If I were you I wouldn’t miss out on that opportunity when it comes knocking.”

You know he’s right. Johnny had you feeling like a hot mess earlier when he was looking at you like that, and honestly you would love to have a fun fling with an idol as hot as Johnny. So you pocket the little slip of paper, tug on your coat and grab your bag, thank your coworker and tell him goodbye.

You’re so lost in your thoughts as you walk down the hallway toward the stairs, that you don’t pay attention as one of the dressing room doors opens and a figure starts to step out.

For the second time that day, you collide with someone.

For the second time that day, you collide with Seonghwa.

His arms fully wrap around you now, keeping you from crashing onto the floor.

“We meet again.” He smiles. “Sorry, I should’ve been paying more attention, but I was trying to hurry.”

“Shouldn’t you be gone by now?” You ask him, possibly a bit unkindly. 

He blinks. “Yeah, I forgot my phone though, so I came back. My manager is waiting in the van downstairs, so I was trying to hurry.” He helps you back firmly to your feet. “Sorry about running into you again. We need to stop meeting like this. Maybe next time we should plan to meet instead of just literally running into each other?”

He takes your hand and produces a pen from somewhere. The tip of it tickles against your skin as he writes on your hand, inking his info onto your skin, his breath a gentle warmth on your fingers. 

You look at the side of his face and wonder if maybe you’d somehow fallen into an alternate universe. Months and months of doing this job and you’d never had an idol look twice at you, but today you’ve had not only one idol give you some of his private information, but two idols have given you the means to contact them.

“Message me sometime,” Seonghwa says with a wink. 

And then he’s gone, jogging down the hallway to rejoin his manager in the van.

Later that night, once you’ve gotten home and showered and tucked yourself into bed, you stare at your palm and the piece of paper, your phone unlocked in your lap.

Maybe it’s wrong to do this, but you enter in both of their information, message them both. It’s not like anything that happens with either of them will be really serious, right? They’re both busy idols, they don’t have time for real romantic lives, just for the occasional hookups, and that’s something you can do. 

Sex. No strings attached. Totally non-exclusive to each other.

You meet up with Johnny first. It’s only fair. He made his move first, messaged you back first, made it obvious that he wants you.

“Can you meet me now?” He messages you one day. 

It’s mid-morning. Normally you would be at work. You would think he’d be busy working or sleeping right now too. But you’re off work today, and you’ve got no plans because it’s a chilly autumn morning that made you not even hardly want to leave bed.

“Where?”

He sends you a location, and you only wait long enough to shower quickly and put on something nicer before you’re on your way.

Over the past few weeks since you first met him, you’ve been messaging almost every day. He made it obvious quickly that he was just looking for sex, and you accepted that just as quickly. Since then, you’d been talking about history, experience, likes and dislikes, kinks. There’d been plenty of dirty talk from him, featuring a sexy pic or two from you (he was hesitant to send nudes for obvious reasons, but had sent you a couple of selfies and even audio clips). 

So going to meet him, you were ready for it. 

You find it hard to believe that he actually invited you over to his dorm to fuck, but the building you arrive at definitely looks like an apartment building, and when you text him that you’ve arrived at the building, he sends you a floor and apartment number.

It’s then that you start to feel shy, to feel a bit nervous. 

But when you arrive at the door, rap your knuckles against it, it is Johnny who stands there when the door swings open.

“Hi,” He grins slowly, leaning against the door as he holds it open. “Come in.”

You can tell as soon as you step inside that this is definitely the dorm he shares with the other members. It just seems clean but still slightly messy. Definitely has the feel of young men inhabiting it. 

Johnny closes the door and explains, “Everyone’s gone today, and I figured if you weren’t busy, now would be the ideal time for us to make those messages come true.” He touches your waist and you turn to look up at him. Johnny still looks at you with such a hungry intensity. “I’ve been dying to touch you since I saw you blushing in that waiting room.”

Heat zips up your spine when he pulls you closer. Johnny leans in.

You let your bag slide from your shoulder, your coat slipping off in the same move, and you raise your hands to his shoulders just as Johnny’s hands move down to your thighs. He lifts you up, your arms circle his neck and your legs tighten around his hips, his hands firmly under your ass.

“Can I kiss you?” Johnny asks, his breath already on your lips. His eyelashes draw such fine, long lines down his cheeks, and you’re close enough to count every last one. 

You nod.

Johnny kisses sweet and softly, warmly and welcoming. 

He moves, sits you on the edge of the sofa’s back. His fingers fall to your clothes, unzipping or unbuttoning whatever needs to be undone. Your shirt falls apart, leaving you in only a bra. Johnny groans and wraps his arm around your waist, pulls you tighter as he kisses you deeper.

You can feel him growing hard against your thigh, and when you drop a hand down to run over his stomach, he jerks. You nip at his bottom lip, drag your fingers against the edge of his pants, pop undone the button and then dip your hand inside.

He’s just as big as you wanted to believe, hard and thick. 

Johnny had told you a few days before that it had been a while since he was able to do this. Months if not nearly a year since the last time he was able to have sex with someone.

Still, you don’t expect him to moan and buck into your touch. His hand on your back slips and you slide back a bit, almost falling away from him until his arm tightens again. 

“Johnny,” you murmur, “I don’t know about you, but I’m ready to just fuck. I’ve been wet since the moment you messaged me.”

You take his free hand and pull it down between your thighs, guide him to touch you through your panties, to feel how wet and needy you already are for him. 

“Okay, fuck.” Johnny backs off, pulling you with him until your feet are firm on the ground again. “Get on the sofa. I’m gonna grab a condom, don’t go anywhere.”

“As if I would.” You call as he moves quickly out of the room, disappearing down a hallway.

You move around onto the sofa, strip your pants off and fling your shirt to the side as well, so you’re just lying there in the cute lingerie you’d chosen. Just as you’re about to call his name and tell him to hurry, you hear your phone chime from the pocket of your pants, so you dig it out and look at the notification.

From Seonghwa: are you free tomorrow night? I don’t have any schedules, I was hoping we could run into each other?

To Seonghwa: Tell me where and when. I’ll be there ;)

You tuck your phone back into your pocket and lie back on the sofa, the cool air of the dorm pricking against your skin, your nipples peaking up the thin fabric of your bra.

You stare up at the ceiling, at the light dancing there, and you wonder about how you’re about to fuck Johnny, how you’re going to see Seonghwa tomorrow night hopefully to do the same. You wonder how it would be if Seonghwa was here now instead of just messaging you, would he touch you while you wait for Johnny, or would he sit there and watch you now and watch what’s about to happen?

Just imagining Seonghwa seeing you with Johnny, his handsome features set in focus at Johnny’s hands on your body, noticing the fine curves and the cling of your lingerie to your breasts before Johnny comes to peel it off you.

You feel flushed with heat, your hands drift to your chest and you can’t help touching, pinching and rolling a nipple between your fingers.

That’s when Johnny reenters the room, stripped down to his boxers, an unopened condom in his one hand, the other hand on his cock. 

“Don’t keep me waiting,” You beg him. You part your legs, Johnny quickly fills the space between them, falling over you until his lips can drag along the line of your throat, down between your breasts, to your navel and then the edge of your panties.

You want so badly for him to take them between his teeth and drag them off of you that way, to cover your pussy with his mouth and bring you to an orgasm on his tongue. But you feel his fingers fumble against your ass and then they’re wrapped around the waistband, tearing them down your legs and off.

You arch up into his touch, wanting him, and Johnny hushes you when you whine, and you watch as he pushes his boxers down and rolls the condom down his length. 

He teases. Presses close enough to let you feel him, he moves his tip against your clit, down over your opening, and back up. You whine and buck up, and Johnny just grins and places a hand on your hip, holding you down.

“Fuck me,” You beg him. “Don’t you want to feel how warm and wet and tight I am for you, Johnny? All for you, please.” You reach up, scratch your nails lightly down his chest. “I need you inside me. You’re so big, you’ll make me feel so full, you’ll fuck me so good, Johnny.”

“You sound like a whore.” He groans and at long last he pushes inside you. 

The feel is incredible. The stretch, a slight burn as it’s been a little while since you had someone who was quite as big as him. You let out a squeal, squeeze your legs up against his hips, reach for his shoulders.

“My little whore, right?” He pulls back just a bit so he can thrust in harder, deeper. “All mine?”

You bite your lip and whine.

Johnny puts a hand to your chin as your eyes start to slide away from his, he squeezes and makes you look up at him, and the dominance in something as simple as that touch sends a hot burst of heat through your gut. You clench around him. 

His gaze burns with that intensity, the hunger. The possessiveness. You want to be consumed by him, enveloped in the pleasure you know he can give you. 

“Johnny,” You moan, dig your fingernails into the back of his neck, attempt to bring his mouth down to yours. He resists, his eyes sweeping from yours to your lips, down to your chest, and then even lower to glimpse where he disappears inside you, as deep as he can go. You let out a low moan, “Fuck, you feel so good.” 

“This pussy belongs to me.” Johnny says, snapping his hips forward. “You’re all mine. Just mine.”

You squeeze your eyes shut, bite your lip. You don’t let the truth show through, can’t let him see just in case he’ll stop fucking you if he learns this isn’t an exclusive thing.

Again, the thought of Seonghwa comes back. You picture him sitting across the room in a chair, his ankle crossed over his thigh, arms folded as he watches Johnny lay his claim to you, watches you taking Johnny’s cock while you moan like his whore.

When Johnny’s lips crush against yours, you groan and your eyes open. You move your fingers into his hair, knotting there as he rocks into you, moaning into the kiss. His cock hits deep inside you, filling you every place. 

Johnny pulls away for a second, his breath panting against your lips, and for another moment his eyes lock on yours. He holds himself up on one elbow, the other hand he snakes down between your bodies, and he watches you closely when his fingers finally give your clit some attention.

He savors the way you whimper and hiss, squirm for him as he rolls his hips and stimulates that little sweet bundle of nerves. 

“You’re so cute, so pretty, baby.” Johnny kisses you once gently. “I want you to cum for me, and I want to hear you moan my name when you do.”

“Johnny,” You moan, grabbing for his wrist between your bodies. That doesn’t make him slow down, and you feel yourself racing toward your orgasms though you want to hold off. “Johnny,” you whine.

That knot in your belly grows tighter, his fingers on your clit, his cock filling you so well inside. 

You roll your head back, arching against him as shivers begin to wrack your body, and you can’t help the sweet, low moan of his name that pours from your lips. Your orgasm spills through you, squeezing and squirting around his cock, sending him into his own orgasm. Johnny pushes in deep, his hips jolting as he groans and fills the condom.

He sinks over you, holding himself up from crushing you with one arm, and when you nudge your chin forward, Johnny kisses you again, long and slow and sweet once again. 

He pulls out after a moment, leaving you feeling empty and needy, so you wrap your arms around his waist and tug, whine at him, “Don’t leave yet.” 

Johnny leaves only long enough to tie off the condom and bury it in the garbage bin in the kitchen, then he’s back, wrapping himself around you for a cuddle.

“Was that good?” He asks. You only have the energy to nod. “For me too. Sorry about the whole possessive bit, I know we’ve not talked about that or anything, but I’m definitely into that. Monogamy, I guess.”

You twist slightly and hide your face from him. He doesn’t have to know, you tell yourself.

Seonghwa told you to meet him at his company building. “Wait outside for me. Around back.” His voice sounded tired, but when you suggested that, he denied it. 

So there you stood, waiting for him around the back, your arms wrapped around you in the chilly air. You wish you could wait inside or at least in the front of the building where the wind wasn’t hitting so bad, but once you’d arrived you understood why he told you to wait in the back. There was plenty of foot traffic, fans waiting out front. 

“The meeting is almost over and then I’ll be right out.” He texted. 

You leaned back against the wall, wondering where this was going. You knew that he wasn’t likely to take you back to his dorm. His members were all going to be present unlike Johnny’s. You wondered if he was going to suggest going back to yours (a possibility) or maybe a hotel or something. 

When the back door of the building opens, Seonghwa steps out. When he spots you, he grins and holds his hand out, glances back over his shoulder once, then tells you, “Come here.”

You do. 

“What are you doing?” You ask as he takes your hand and guides you inside. “Aren’t we going somewhere?”

“Just come with me, sweetheart. I’m trying to get you home with me without anyone paying too much attention.” His fingers lace through yours as he brings you deeper inside the building.

You look around, a bit nervous and even more confused. “What are you going to do? Stuff me in your bag? No offense, but I don’t think I’ll fit and we’ll definitely be caught.” You tug on his hand and Seonghwa turns around. “I thought when you asked me to meet you here, we’d be going somewhere.”

“Like on a date?” Seonghwa asks, lowering his voice as a woman walks out of a room nearby. “Sweetheart, I thought you didn’t want this to be more than sex. You made it sound like that.”

“Yeah, I know.” You look down at your feet. “But I’m hungry and thought we could at least grab a bite or something before we do whatever we’re going to do.” 

Seonghwa’s fingers slip under your chin, tilting your face up toward him, and his thumb glides over your bottom lip. “Kitten, if you’re hungry I’ve got something that can fill you right up.”

Your mouth falls open slightly, and Seonghwa takes that moment to dip the tip of his thumb inside. Your legs feel weak, your insides liquefy, and you would happily jump on his dick right there in that open hallway, but he pulls away, shoves his hands into his pockets, and smiles the sweetest smile as another woman comes out of that room nearby.

As soon as she vanishes, he takes your hand again. 

“You’re coming with me. To the dorm. Half of the guys are going straight from here to the studio.” He reaches for your cheek, brushes his fingers sweetly over the heat of your blush. “San’s going to fuck his girl too, lucky for him she lives in the same building. Mingi and Yunho are going out somewhere. It’ll just be you and me for a while.”

Seonghwa guides you through the halls of the building until you’re just out of sight of the lobby. He reaches into the bag on his shoulder, pulls out a black hoodie, and hands it to you. “Put it on. Tug the hood up. When we leave, get in the front seat with my manager.”

You do as he says, though you’re sure you’re going to look a bit suspicious walking along with the group, with a hood pulled up as if you’re trying to hide your face. 

When the other members as well as a few staff members join the pair of you a moment later, you understand. A few of the guys, and some of the staff as well, are wearing matching hoodies to the one Seonghwa had just handed you, a few of them with their hoods up as well. You’ll blend in perfectly.

The few fans gathered outside start snapping pics the moment that the boys become visible and you hide yourself among the cluster of members and staff moving toward the exit, moving toward the van waiting outside. 

You don’t understand why there are fans waiting outside even here, but you assume that they’re the stalker fans you’ve heard about. The ones that follow idols everywhere, know everything about them, to a severely creepy extent.

You listen to Seonghwa’s instructions, following him to the van that he and three of the other members are getting in, and as you reach it, you open the front passenger door and slide inside. Their manager in the driver’s seat glances over at you in alarm, but Seonghwa pops his head between the front seats.

“She’s with me, hyung. Don’t mind her.”

The manager scowls, and looks as if he’s about to berate Seonghwa, but then he thinks better of it and settles for shaking his head and staring forward.

The ride from there to the dorm is quiet. You watch the city lights pass by outside the car windows, and you stay quiet when the guys start a livestream in the back, putting on their best faces for their Atinys, keeping them updated and entertained, though they bring the live to an end when they near the dorm.

Just as Seonghwa had told you, Mingi and Yunho disappear almost as soon as the manager’s put the van in park. They’re out and gone. San vanishes a moment later, walking away on his phone. The manager shakes his head and pulls out a cigarette, leans against the side of the van, and tells Seonghwa, “Use protection, I’m begging you.”

You feel very hot after that, but Seonghwa takes your hand and leads you away.

He kisses you the moment you’re inside the dorm, his hands moving to unzip the hoodie, peeling it from your shoulders, he tosses it aside, his hands on your waist as he backs with you across the room, navigating you without having to look, and you follow where he leads.

“Get on the bed,” He groans after a moment, gently pushing you away, but reaching for your chin to touch your lips again. “I want your pretty mouth so bad, kitten.”

You like when he calls you that, a curl of pleasure in your belly each time he says that little pet name to you. “Yes, sir.” You step away from him, moving toward the nearest bed, laying back on it, and Seonghwa stands before you, his thumbs tucked under the waistband of his pants.

You can see his bulge and your mouth waters for him. You shift onto your hands and knees at the edge of the bed, facing Seonghwa, and he steps forward, pushing his pants down. Reaching for him, you pause, look up for approval, and when he nods, you shift a bit closer and drag down the elastic band of his underwear. 

His cock is just as beautiful as the rest of him, though not as thick as Johnny, he’s probably just as long, and again you find yourself wondering how you got so lucky as to have two amazingly hot idols wanting you.

Seonghwa puts a hand on the back of your head, lacing his fingers into your hair, and he urges your mouth forward, wanting to feel you on his cock. And you don’t want to let him down.

You start out with a kitten lick to the tip, holding the rest of him with your fingertips. When he rolls his head back and hums in satisfaction, stroking the back of your head, you do it again and then push forward taking his tip in your mouth. 

You push yourself further each time you go down on him, and the first time he finally loses his restraint and thrusts down your throat, gagging you around him, you jerk backwards, pulling off of him with a thick string of saliva connecting your lips to his dick.

“So pretty,” he moans, “I want to ruin your lips, kitten. Bet you’d look so pretty with your face covered in my cum.” 

You’re sure you would, but you don’t want him to waste his cum all over your face. With your fingers still around his length, slowly massaging him, you lean forward again to mouth at his tip, not going much deeper, not because you mean to tease, but because you’re not a fan of being choked on cock by surprise.

Still, he rolls his hips forward, trying to get more from you. His tip leaks blurts of precum onto your tongue, and the taste of him has you hornier than you’ve been all day. You’re dripping in your panties, and you wish he would touch you.

Again, you find yourself fantasizing about your other lover when you’re with your current one. 

Would Johnny sit and watch or join in? As the elder of the two, would he take responsibility, dominating you, telling Seonghwa what to do, how to touch you, telling you how to please him? Or would Johnny passively sit by and admire the way that the younger has you sucking his cock, would he watch as you squirm in desperate need of being touched?

What if he touched you while you blew Seonghwa? If you had Seonghwa in front of you, Johnny behind you with his fingers so deep in your pussy that you could feel him in your belly?

You moan at the thought, wiggle your hips in an attempt to get any kind of friction for your needy core.

“Poor, kitty,” Seonghwa coos. “You’re getting nothing right now.” His hand goes to your shoulder, easing you back off of him. You sit back on your heels and look up at him. “Do you want Daddy to touch you?”

“Fuck, please.” You slip backwards, spread your knees apart. “Yeah, I want you to touch me.”

Seonghwa smirks so rude, his hand falls to your knee. “Oh, kitten. If you want something from me, you need to address me properly.” He sinks to his knees, hands on both of yours. “Call me Daddy, kitten, and I’ll give you a treat.”

You squirm on the bed, run your hands down your body to meet his hands. “Daddy, please, touch me.”

Seonghwa bites his lip and reaches up, hooks his fingers into the waistband of your pants and gently draws them down your legs. “Sweetheart, I wanna taste you so bad. When you ran into me that first day, when I felt you against me so soft and warm, smelling so sweet like honey, all I wanted was to kiss you. It’s been ages since I got to hold a girl in my arms, to taste her kitty so sweetly.”

His hands squeeze your thighs and he jerks, pulling you to the edge of the bed. He lifts your legs onto his shoulders, and when he lowers his head to your belly, his lips brushing over your skin, his teeth catch the band of your panties and he drags them down with his teeth.

You shiver as the cool air of the dorm and the heat of Seonghwa’s breath touch your newly bared skin, your wet pussy. 

“Seonghwa-- Daddy,” You moan, lifting your hips with need.

He dives in, his hot tongue and lips lavishing between your legs, his tongue swirling around your clit, dipping inside you. He moans against you, his hands tight on your thighs and hips. You grip at the bedsheets, wrinkling them between your fingers, and it’s no time at all before Seonghwa brings you to an orgasm on his tongue.

The moment he pulls back, lips wet with saliva and your cum, he fills you with his fingers instead, his thumb against your clit.

You writhe and whine at the oversensitivity you’re feeling, but Seonghwa doesn’t let up, even as you roll onto your belly, his fingers curl inside you. 

“You’re so sweet, kitten. I could taste you again and not get tired.” You feel his breath on your ass, the brush of his lips, and then his teeth dig in, and you moan at the pain tinged with pleasure. His free hand comes up and spanks your bottom. “Do you want Daddy to fuck you? Your cunt is probably desperate to be filled. Do you want me?”

Of course you want him. 

You nod desperately, bury your face in the sheets when his fingers find that spot inside you that makes you see stars.

“Good girl.” He pulls back, leaving you empty and cold. “Ass up, sweetheart.” His hands jerk your hips up into the air, pussy bare and exposed for him. You can feel yourself dripping down your thigh you’re so wet for him.

You look back over your shoulder and you see him ripping open a condom, you watch him put it on, rolling it down his cock. He’s probably just as long as Johnny, though not as thick around, and either way, you know he’s going to fuck you good.

Seonghwa pushes into you hard and fast, not at all gently, but exactly what you wanted. He grinds in deep, rolls his hips forward, a hand pressed flat to your tailbone. “Shit, kitten, you’re so tight for me.”

“Yes, Daddy.” You grind back against him, trying to get him somehow even deeper. You love the wet, slippery feel of him fucking you, thrusting in deep, his hips rolling, snapping against your ass. “Just for you.” You moan as his hand pushes you into a slightly different position, his dick hitting just right inside you.

Seonghwa moans, and you glance back over your shoulder to see him staring down at his hips jiggling your ass, his cock disappearing inside you, and he bites his lip, his sharp eyes focused.

His eyes lift to yours, and his next thrust slows, torturously slow as he rolls forward. And then he stops just short of filling you completely. He holds there, his eyes on yours. 

You can’t help clenching around him, grinding back, needing him deeper.

You want to feel so full, fuller than even Johnny had you feeling just the day before. “More,” You groan, pushing back and circling your hips on his cock. Seonghwa smirks and brings the flat of his palm down against your ass, and you quickly add, “Daddy, more.”

“That’s what I like to hear.” Seonghwa digs the fingers of one hand into your hip, hard enough to bruise, and the other hand goes to your hair, twisting it around his fist and pulling so your back arches and the angle he’s hitting inside you has you squeezing around him with every thrust, sweeping bursts of hot tingling sensations through you.

You imagine again a scenario that brings Johnny into all of this, him standing on the bed before you, presenting his fat cock for you to take into your mouth while Seonghwa fucks you like this. As if Seonghwa has some inkling of what you imagine, his hand loosens his hold on your hair, moving his way around until his fingers touch your lips.

“Open up, kitten.” 

“Yes, Daddy.” You obediently open your mouth and Seonghwa’s fingers fill your mouth, giving you something to suck on as you imagine choking on Johnny’s cock, him being forced deeper in your throat with every one of Seonghwa’s thrusts. How great it would be to be caught between the two beautiful men, both of them inspiring a lust in you like you’ve never felt.

His fingers drag out of your mouth, over your lips, and you whine his name, taking the brutal force of his thrusts as his hand falls down your body, his wet fingers finding your clit, and your back rest against his chest. 

Your moans shiver through the room. Seonghwa’s hot breath is on your cheek, your ear as he says, “Are you gonna cum for me, kitten? I want to see you lose control. You’ve always been so reserved, professional at work, almost innocent in your messages.” His teeth graze your earlobe, his fingers pinch your clit, and he thrusts right against your G spot. “Cum, sweetheart.”

And you do.

Seonghwa doesn’t let up. He keeps fucking you, keeps rubbing your clit until you’re jolting in his arms, whining and crying, begging him to stop.

He lets you fall forward onto the bed, burying your face in the sheets as he keeps fucking you, and you do love the overstimulation, the slight pain of it that feels so good, all of your nerve endings burning. Seonghwa has both of his hands bruisingly gripping your hips, and his pace of thrusting into you is so intense, but still there’s a small part of you that doesn’t feel quite full.

If Johnny was here too you could have them both, have them filling you all the way. Both of them inside you cunt, fucking you with their big cocks.

Seonghwa swears behind you, his cock twitching deep in your belly. He does several of those rolling grinds of his hips forward, and you can only think of how well Johnny’s thrusts would compliment these moves. 

To have them both in you would be a magical miraculous thing. Separately they’re great. Together they would have you never able to leave their beds again.

A deep thrust has you moaning, breaking loose any filter you have, and the words spill out without a thought.

“Oh, Johnny,” You moan. 

The instant the name leaves your mouth you regret it. You bite your bottom lip, eyes going wide, and every movement goes still. 

Seonghwa’s hand slides up your back, and you prepare yourself for his fingers to twist in your hair, tug you back by your hair.

His hand curls around your throat. “What did you just say, kitten?”

“I’m sorry.” You moan again as his fingers flex on your throat. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to.”

“Didn’t mean to moan another man’s name while I’m inside you?” Seonghwa slaps his other hand against your bottom. “You’re really a little slut, aren’t you? Are you fucking Johnny? Johnny who? From NCT?” You don’t say a thing, but your pulse betrays you, beating faster beneath his fingertips. “He always has seemed like a man whore. Every time I’ve seen him he’s flirting with everyone in sight. Does he fuck you good, kitten? Is he rough with you, man enough for you? He must not be if you’re here now in my bed.”

You moan.

“Bet he’s not got the big cock everyone thinks he does. If he can’t fuck you well, you’re always welcome to my cock, kitten. Do I make you feel better than he does?”

His fingers on your throat draw you back up against his chest. He grinds his cock into you even as you swivel your hips down on him. 

“Answer me, kitten.” His lips drag your cheek, his tongue too dangerous to have you feeling anything less than severely turned on. “Does Johnny fuck you as well as me?”

“No,” You moan, gasping as he releases his hold on your throat. “I’ve only fucked him once, Daddy. You’re both so good, big cocks that fill me so well. He wants me to be his, but I kept thinking about you when I was with him.”

Seonghwa swears, a quick and quiet barrage of fucks as he pulls out of you, his hands on your shoulders spinning you around, and you slide down so your face is level with his cock as he tears off the condom and jerks his hand over his length.

He cums over your face, hot strings of semen shooting over your cheeks, your open lips, your tongue. Seonghwa moans and swears and tells you that you look so pretty with your face covered in Daddy’s cum.

You lick your lips and slump down onto his bed, somehow finding a pillow in your arms, held against your chest as Seonghwa leaves the bed.

He returns an instant or two later, a cool damp cloth in his hand as he wipes at your face before he moves down between your legs. It feels so nice on your hot skin, and he leaves little kisses on your thighs, your bottom, and then he’s at your head again, his hands so gentle, his touch so light you barely feel his fingertips on your cheeks as he draws you in for another kiss.

“How do you feel, sweetheart? Good? Sore? Do you want to shower?” He asks, his voice soft. You shake your head and move a little closer to him, as close as you can be with this pillow in your arms. “Do you want to sleep?” You nod.

“Okay, sleep.” He kisses your forehead, barely more than a brush of his lips. “I’ll wake you when you need to leave.”

For now, you’re not even worried about that. You’re just floating in the feeling of sexual satisfaction.

A few days later as you were curled up in bed, texting Johnny while you talked to Seonghwa on speaker, he brought it up.

“So how long have you been fucking around with Johnny?“ Seonghwa asks. 

You sigh, “Literally the day we started talking was the first day he and I started talking. I’ve only had sex with him once, same as you. I didn’t think I needed to tell either of you about it. I didn’t think either of you would want more than just sex.” 

Your phone buzzes with a message from Johnny. A pouty selfie that you can tell he’s sending you from a late practice. You send back your own of you in bed, just a thin strap of a camisole visible above the line of your blankets. 

“Does he want more from you?” Seonghwa’s voice drops, “Than just sex?”

“I don’t know. We haven’t really discussed it, honestly.” You roll over onto your stomach. “Why? Are you jealous? Do you hate the idea of sharing me?”

Seonghwa makes a noise. “You’re not mine, Y/N. I don’t own you or anything, you’re perfectly at liberty to fuck whoever you want. I was just wondering.” There’s silence for a moment in which Johnny texts back just one word: fuck. Then Seonghwa says, “Does he know about me?”

“No.” You answer, possibly too quickly. 

“Oh?”

Johnny sends you a follow up video of him dancing, his phone aimed at the long stretch of mirror in front of him so you can see him rolling his hips and biting his lip, playing up a fuckboy kind of vibe. 

“He’s not like you.” You say, replaying the video again, unable to help locking your eyes onto the bulge at the front of Johnny’s sweatpants. “He is jealous. He seems pretty possessive anyway, which is kinda hot in the moment, but I don’t know. I’m pretty sure if I told him I was seeing anyone else on the side he wouldn’t be too into that.”

“And you’d be upset to end things?” Seonghwa sighs.

“I don’t know,” You softly admit. “I think I’ve only fucked each of you once and both of you blew my mind. I don’t want to call it quits on either one of you right now because it’s too much fun.”

Seonghwa hums. “I think you’re underestimating--- overestimating? I don’t know-- I think you’ve got him wrong. I think he’s like me in more ways than you think, and if he learned you were fucking another guy he wouldn’t be as ready to let you go. You’re captivating, and Johnny has to know that. He won’t want to lose something like you.”

And you definitely don’t want to lose him. Watching the way his cock looks in his sweatpants in that video, all you can think about is him fucking you into your mattress, but it’s Seonghwa’s voice you’ve got in your ear.

You squeeze your eyes shut and suck in a deep breath. 

The day that they’re both back at your studio, their schedules overlapping once again, you feel absolutely on edge. It’s been a few weeks since this all started. You’ve been talking to both of them almost every day. Johnny’s invited you to random places for quick fucks, and you’ve accepted a few times, and each time he leaves you more satisfied than the time before.

You always end up telling Seonghwa about these encounters, especially when you meet him in the back of a building or between parked cars to make out and maybe have him finger you against a car. You think he gets off on it, because he’ll have your lip between his teeth, his fingers inside you, and he’ll growl something about Johnny, telling you to recount your latest rendezvous with the older idol.

And after all these weeks, you still haven’t told Johnny that he’s not the only man in your bed. Things are still non-exclusive, so you certainly don’t feel obligated to tell him about it. 

But now they’re so near each other again, and you know they’re bound to see each other, so you try your best to steer clear of not only their dressing rooms but that area of the building all together.

Of course, fate would have it another way.

You’re in the cafeteria, grabbing something to eat when there’s a slight commotion and Johnny comes striding into the room, looking like a model. A few of his members are with him, but he doesn’t shy away from smiling and sending a wink your way. 

And then Seonghwa walks into the room right behind them. Yeosang is with him, talking about something, but Seonghwa’s focus is on you.

You flush with heat and try to hurry to finish eating, to get out of there before their paths cross, converging on you.

A few other idols are scattered around the room, so it’s not unusual to have the visiting idols in the cafeteria, but god you’re just itching to get out of there. 

Yuta slips away from Johnny’s side and sits down at a table where Pentagon’s Yuto sits. And then Seonghwa and Yeosang approach Johnny and Taeyong. 

Your heart stills in your chest as you see them greeting each other. Yeosang and Taeyong begin talking, and you watch closely the way that Seonghwa seems to be sizing up Johnny, looking him up and down, searching his face. Johnny’s smile falters ever-so-slightly, and his gaze flicks towards you for just a second.

You sink into your seat a bit, ignoring your coworker beside you who is in the midst of trying to say something to you. 

Seonghwa hasn’t even said a word to Johnny beyond “hello” but still you feel this odd energy that connects the three of you, a burning string that passes through the room binding you and Johnny and Seonghwa together. 

Seonghwa tugs up the hood of his white sweatshirt, tucks his hands into his pockets, and suddenly you can no longer see his face, can’t see if his lips move. You can only read Johnny’s face and his body language, see the simplest shifts of his body in the tight black t-shirt he wears.

Then suddenly, Johnny throws his head back and lets out that lovely laugh. Seonghwa is laughing too, and he turns slightly and catches your eye while he laughs with your other lover. You feel a burn in your gut, and you’ve never been less certain of the cause--arousal? jealousy? heart burn? nausea? You’re really not sure.

Taeyong and Yeosang have moved on, but Johnny and Seonghwa stand there talking to each other, looking too damn beautiful together for your sanity. Johnny is just a bit taller than Seonghwa, and you shiver in your seat imagining how it would feel to be pressed between them. You bite your lip absentmindedly.

Johnny’s in the middle of saying something to Seonghwa when he looks over at you again, catching you staring at him with such obvious lust. His words falter, and then Seonghwa’s looking as well. Both objects of your pure, unadulterated lust are looking at you.

You quickly look away, stand up, grab your food and move toward the exit, unable to handle being in the same room as the two of them any longer. And perhaps it really is best that you didn’t stick around to witness what happened in the moments that followed. You only learned of it later.

You’d invited Johnny over once before, late at night when his practice ended and you were incredibly horny and Seonghwa was busy. Johnny had told you that there was nowhere you could meet, so you sent him your address and told him that either he would show up or you would have to take care of it yourself.

So he’d come over.

And now he had once again come over, this time uninvited though not unwelcome.

It was already relatively late when he knocked on your door. You were huddled up under a blanket on your sofa wearing an old threadbare tshirt and a pair of short shorts that you were planning to sleep in. You certainly weren’t dressed for guests, but as soon as you saw it was Johnny standing your door, you’d opened it wide.

Johnny came inside, immediately sweeping you into a kiss, his arms fast and strong around you, the press of his lips hot. You moaned and ran your hands over him, wanting more and more and more. Johnny was happy to give it to you.

He kicked the door shut, backing you into your apartment, swallowing your moans and pouring some of his own back into your mouth.

When he accidentally runs you into a piece of furniture, you yelp and break the kiss, but Johnny trails fiery kisses over your jaw, your neck. He licks and sucks at a spot just above your collarbone that makes your knees nearly give out and you feel a gush of arousal.

“Say you want me.” Johnny growls. His hands sweep down to your ass, gripping tight, massaging. “Tell me how much you want me.”

“God, I want you,” you moan. You let him lift you in his arms, your legs wrapping around his waist. He always makes you feel so little, and you love it. “I want you so much.” You crush your mouth to his again, and this kiss feels like fire, burning through your veins.

Johnny doesn’t move farther than there, just holding you and kissing you, but then he pulls back slightly, presses just a slight kiss to your lips and then another as he sucks on your bottom lip to hear you whine for him.

“You want me?” He asks again once he’s released your lip. His voice is little more than a low rumble. You nod, your fingers at the back of his neck. You do want him so badly, your pussy is already throbbing in need of him. Johnny grins and hovers his mouth right above yours. “Are you sure you don’t want someone else instead? Park Seonghwa?”

You freeze. The fire burning inside you turns to ice. Johnny’s body suddenly feels stiff against yours, but he doesn’t let you down and you don’t try to move either.

“So he wasn’t fucking lying.” Johnny growls. “You’ve been fucking him too? Oh, baby, I thought your pretty pussy was all mine, but you’ve been sharing it with him? Even while you’ve been telling me that it belongs to me?”

You feel his jealousy, possessiveness. A feeling that’s not quite anger radiates off of him, and you can’t put your finger on what that feeling is.

“Johnny, I’m sorry.” You don’t mean it. You’re not sorry about a thing, but you know those are the best words you can offer him in the moment. 

Johnny shakes his head. “No, baby. see, Seonghwa had a lot of interesting things to tell me earlier after we saw you looking at us like a little bitch in heat right there in front of everyone. Which one of us were you thinking about then? Me?” Johnny’s fingers brush against the seam of your pants, right over your damp core. “Or him?”

You can’t help squirming against his touch, and your answer comes out as more of a squeak than anything else. “Both!”

“What?” Johnny dips his head and his lips brush your throat. “What was that?”

“Both of you,” You moan. “In the cafeteria I was thinking of both of you. Both of you inside me, around me, touching me. I want you both.”

Johnny hums, the vibrations move beautifully under your skin. “Right answer.” 

Suddenly you’re on your feet again and Johnny’s stepping back, leaning against the wall with his arms folded over his chest. He nods toward your front door. “Now open the door. I’ve brought a present for you.”

Your hands shake slightly as you lift them to open the door. 

Seonghwa stands outside, huddled in his white hoodie, his hands buried in the pockets, his shoulders drawn up toward his ears. And even though he’s clearly cold, he still tries his best to give you one of those smiles that makes your heart skip a beat, and he says, “Hey, sweetheart.”

“Come inside.” You reach out, grabbing onto one of his sleeves and tugging. He stumbles through the doorway, and you immediately close and lock the door and then glom onto him. He’s freezing.

“Are you really gonna fuck us both?” He asks. His teeth only chatter a little bit, and you hate that he was standing out there in the cold while Johnny stoked your internal fire hotter and hotter in here. 

You frown a bit over at Johnny and look back at Seonghwa. “I didn’t say I was going to fuck either of you tonight, actually. You’ve both shown up here unannounced, uninvited.”

“But definitely wanted.” Johnny butts in. When you throw another frown his way, he lifts his hands in surrender. “Seonghwa suggested the idea of us together with you. He said you might be into it. After he coerced me into telling him that I thought you were hot and then that we’ve been together, then he admitted he’s been having sex with you too. I probably would have been a bit angrier, made more of a scene, if it wasn’t for my suspicions.”

You wait for him to explain.

“I knew I didn’t leave that many hickeys. I barely touched your ass, yet you had light bruises sometimes. Just small things that I brushed off, thinking maybe I just didn’t remember exactly right where I’d kissed you, how rough I’d been with you.” Johnny shakes his head. “But as soon as he said that, then it all made sense.”

“She likes a little bit of pain,” Seonghwa says then. His cold fingers slip under the edge of your sleeve, circling like a band of ice around your wrist. “Don’t you, kitten?”

You turn to him and bite your lip, struggle not to simper at the cool look in his eyes. 

“He told me that you’ve told him about us, about some of the things we’ve done. “ Johnny tutted and shook his head, taking a step closer to you and Seonghwa. “And he told me more, like the fantasies you’ve mentioned to him. And how hot he was sure you would find it if we fucked you together. Is he right about that?”

You nod. 

“Do you want us to take you to bed?” Seonghwa asks you. You don’t even care if they wait for the answer, but they do, so you nod. It’s Johnny who sweeps you into his arms, planting a firm kiss on your lips, and he leads you away, navigating through your home to the bedroom, as if he’s done this dozens of times before instead of just the once.

“How’s this going to work?” You ask as you step into your bedroom, Johnny kissing at your neck from behind, and Seonghwa steps around you to take a look at your room. “Like is one of you going to watch? Is one of you going to fuck me while the other gets a blowjob or something?”

“How do you want it, baby?” Johnny asks.

You whine, a bit unsure about how you want it. You’ve fantasized about it so many different ways, now that you’re presented with it in reality, you don’t know how to choose.

Seonghwa sits down on your bed, making himself quite comfortable. He spreads his legs and pats his thigh. “Come sit, kitten. Let Daddy help you.”

Johnny snorts, but says nothing as he releases you.

You come over to Seonghwa and he looks so comfortable on your bed, that you just want to have him hold you, to bury yourselves in your sheets. He looks so soft though you know he’s not usually so soft with you. But you just want to touch him.

It feel strange to settle down over him, to straddle his lap while Johnny stands behind you, his gaze so intent on the pair of you that you can feel it burning against your back where Seonghwa’s hands move to rest on your hips.

You twist your hands in the bottom of his hoodie, and whisper the plea, “Kiss me.”

“Anything for you,” He murmurs, and his lips are soft when they meet yours. The kiss doesn’t stay so soft and innocent for long, very quickly Seonghwa pushes forward, turning things steamy as his tongue meets yours and your hands dip beneath the edge of his hoodie. Your cool fingertips on his warm stomach, and he moans.

Seonghwa allows you to pull his hoodie up, exposing more and more of his stomach and chest. He chuckles when he pulls back to let you drag it over his head, and he shakes it loose of his shoulders, down his arms, and he throws it into a pile on your floor. 

You hungrily kiss him, your hands on his chest, his shoulders, delving into his hair, touching him everywhere while he kisses you senseless. Seonghwa’s hands fall to your thighs, and he squeezes, urging you to move on him. 

You moan and shift, rolling your hips forward, finding his cock bulging the front of his pants for you to grind against.

“Yeah, like that, kitten.” Seonghwa’s lips drift to your cheek, his hands keeping you moving against him in a steady rhythm and you’re not sure when the room got so hot, but suddenly you can feel the heat flickering like flames on the bareness of your arms and legs

“That’s enough,” Johnny growls, suddenly right behind you, and you open your eyes as he wraps his hands around Seonghwa’s wrists, forcing his hands away from your body. “I’m the oldest, I had her first. I call the shots, kid.”

Seonghwa glowers up at Johnny and shakes his hands away only to lean back, still staring up at the older man. “Make your move then, Suh. Show me how much better than me you are.”

You don’t know what expression Johnny sends back, but Seonghwa averts his gaze at last, dropping his attention down to your chest still hidden by your shirt, your nipples obvious through the thin material. An instant later, Johnny’s hands are on your tits, touching them through the material, and you lean your head back and let out a barely contained moan. 

Seonghwa watches, his gaze hot and judgmental, his bottom lip caught between his teeth as he sees the way Johnny’s fingers have you pressing your chest into his touch, but still you roll your hips down against Seonghwa’s bulge. 

Johnny leans over you, his fingers under your chin to tilt your mouth up against his, and he kisses you slowly, opening your mouth gently and tasting you, teasing his tongue against yours until you’re begging him for more. His fingers curl in the fabric over your chest, and he murmurs a soft and quick sorry, then you hear a sound, feel a tug and a burst of cold. 

“Fuck, kitten, you’re so beautiful.” Seonghwa moans, his hands fly to your chest, now exposed as Johnny drops the shreds of your shirt.  Seonghwa twists your nipples sharply between his thumbs and forefingers, and the sound you make has both men latching onto you.

Johnny kisses you deeper, Seonghwa buries his face against your chest, kissing your breasts, your collarbones, the base of your throat and over your shoulders. He traces his tongue down between your breasts as Johnny rubs circles against your jaw with his thumb and works magic with his kiss.

You whine and buck your hips, begging into the kiss, “Please, please.” 

“Please what, baby?” Johnny asks. 

“Can I cum? Please make me cum?” You swivel your hips down on Seonghwa’s clothed cock. 

Johnny says, “Of course, baby” at the same time that Seonghwa says, “Absolutely fucking not, kitten.”

You want it so bad, and it’s hard to know what to do when you have both of them giving you contrasting answers. So you just sit still in Seonghwa’s lap and whine like a hopeless kitten for your Daddy. You reach for him, dragging your fingertips down his chest, his abs, down to the waistband of his pants, and when you start to dip your hand inside, Seonghwa jerks back.

“No.”

You shiver at the tone of his voice, so dominant and in control.

“What? You don’t want her to touch you?” Johnny asks. “What’s wrong with you? She gives great head. Don’t you, baby?” 

All you can do is nod for him.

“I know how good she is at giving head,” Seonghwa snarks back at Johnny. “She’s blown me plenty of times. I also know that she prefers when I give her head over you. She’s told me so. Says you eat pussy like a messy dog cleaning off a plate.”

Your eyes go wide. You can’t believe he just said that. Yeah, you had said something similar to that once, but only because Johnny had been really lazy about eating you out, clearly not into it then, and you’d ended up faking your orgasm just to get him to fuck you instead. But it was only once.

You twist in Seonghwa’s lap, reaching for Johnny’s waist. “Johnny, no. No, I didn’t say that. You’re great at eating me out.”

Seonghwa’s eye roll was nearly audible. The surprise slap of his hand against your ass was definitely audible; it rang through the room so loudly that you almost heard it before you felt it.

“She’s a liar, this little slut of ours.” Seonghwa tells Johnny. Then to you he says, “You know what happens to naughty, lying sluts, kitty?”

His hand is still warm on your bottom. Yes, you know what happens.

Johnny watches as you slide back off Seonghwa’s lap, standing beside the bed as Seonghwa repositions himself so he can bend you over his knee to spank you. The elder of the two watches in absolute silence as you bend over, your ass in the air.

“She’s good for me. Is she this good for you?” Seonghwa asks as he tugs your shorts down to your knees. He tuts when it’s revealed that you weren’t wearing any panties beneath. “Such a slut. It’s like she knew we were coming, dressed like this and without any panties, all clean and pretty for us.” He trails his fingers ever so lightly over your wet, bare pussy lips. “Johnny hyung, wouldn’t you agree?”

Johnny groans, and Seonghwa strokes between your legs again.

You wiggle and whine until his hand comes down on your ass again. 

“Stay still. Count for me, kitten. You know Daddy’s rules.” Seonghwa tenderly touches the warmth of your ass. He’s done this with you a few times now, slowly growing rougher and rougher with you after that first night, testing the limits he can take you to. So far, he has yet to find your limit.

You hear the faint whistle of his hand moving through the air. Feel the sharp burn as it shoots through your body. 

“One,” You sigh.

The sweeping burn of pleasure through your veins again, the origin his handprint on your bottom.

“Two.” You twist your head to the side, glancing back over your shoulder to see Johnny, his eyes slightly unfocused as he watches Seonghwa bring his hand down again. “Three!” You moan this time. Johnny licks his lips, shifts a bit, and when Seonghwa’s hand comes down a fourth time, when you feel yourself beginning to drip with wetness, Johnny’s hand falls to his cock.

By the time Seonghwa reaches ten, you feel breathless, so turned on that you struggle to not grind your clit forward against his thigh. Johnny’s openly touching himself, his dick the first to make an appearance this evening as he runs his hand over his length, making slow work of it.

You’re absolutely dripping when Seonghwa dips his fingers between your thighs, tracing the pads of his fingers ever so lightly, yet they come away soaked, glistening wet.

“I think she’s ready.” He says, looking up at Johnny. His gaze flicks briefly down to Johnny’s hand jerking himself off, then he looks to his face again. “Do you want me to show you how to truly eat her out?”

You bury your face, whining with need. You just want to be touched, to be allowed to cum, to be completely and totally taken apart by one or both of these two men that you’ve found yourself in bed with on multiple occasions.

Seonghwa lets you up, and you stand on shaky legs, your ass burning as he lightly pushes you toward Johnny. “Make your choice, sweetheart. His cock or my tongue?”

“Can’t I have both?” You reach out both hands, one coming up against Johnny’s wrist, the other brushing Seonghwa’s cheek. “I want both of you. I thought that was the purpose of this evening? I want your tongue, daddy. You’re so good with it, it drives me wild. But Johnny, fuck, your cock feels so good inside me. You’re so big and thick, it’s like absolutely nothing else I’ve ever had. You both make me cum so good, so hard. I want you to be rough, fuck me, use me, ruin me. Are there any options for that?”

Seonghwa licks his lips, his tongue dancing lewdly for a moment, and then he grins, “I think there could be an option for that.” He looks past you to Johnny. “I want to have her sit on my face. You can fuck her pretty mouth like you were so eager to do.”

Johnny bares his teeth and says, “You might dominate her, boss her around when it’s just the two of you, but I’m not your submissive or even your equal, kid.” He slips San arm around your waist, drawing your body back against his, and you feel his hard erection against your back, the wet tip leaking against your skin. “Baby, you want your pussy filled, don’t you. And no one fills you better than me, right?”

You moan, twist your head to the side as you squeeze your eyes shut. You won’t admit to anything, and you can’t look them in the eyes even if it is true, even if you were saying it just moments ago.

“Her wet, dripping cunt is mine.” Johnny slides a hand down your belly, over your mound, slips two fingers between your lips down there to tease at your clit then dip back further and inserts them right inside you.

You moan, your knees almost buckle, but his arm around your waist keeps you from falling.

Johnny pumps his fingers slowly, his head bent low to press his lips to your ear. “Look at him. I want you to look at him watching me touch you. I should fuck you raw, baby. Leave you dripping my cum, ruined, laid out for him but still all mine. Would you like that?” Johnny’s teeth scrape lightly over your shoulder.

You shiver, tracing your hands down and over your body. One hand you move down to hold at his wrist, to feel his forearm flexing as he fucks you slowly on his fingers. The other hand comes up to your chest and you touch your breasts.

Seonghwa rises a moment later, unable to stand it any longer. But he doesn’t remain on his feet for long, dropping to his knees before you, he drags Johnny’s hand away, leaving your pussy hungry for his fingers, but Seonghwa just stares up at you as he sinks in, flicking his tongue against your clit. 

It takes you another moment to realize it’s not actually you he’s staring at but Johnny, his challenge evident in his eyes.

Johnny’s cock twitches against you, and he groans. “I said she’s mine.”

Seonghwa hums against your lips down there, making your insides twist into a knot, and your grasp at his hands situated on your hips. He smirks and leans back just a bit. “I don’t know about that. She’s pretty weak for me. Maybe she’s actually been mine all along.”

You feel hot, both of them put their hands on you as they argue, both laying a claim to you, and you love the possessiveness. You want to feel their teeth on your skin, their cocks both pushing into you, jealousy leaving you a ruined mess of cum and sweat and so much pleasure when it’s over.

Johnny drags a finger up your spine, causing you to shiver intensely, but then Seonghwa’s warm mouth is back on you, his lips sucking around your clit. You feel your eyes rolling back, and you lean back against Johnny with Seonghwa’s hands still holding tight to your hips. 

“Daddy!” You roll your hips down against Seonghwa’s face.

“Pretty baby girl,” Johnny hums, kissing your temple. “Do you want me to fuck you now?”

His voice is so low that Seonghwa probably can’t hear it. You can barely hear him over the pounding of your heartbeat in your ears, but you bite back another moan and nod. 

When one of his fingers presses down between your cheeks, venturing toward your pussy, you roll your hips again, and a moan breaks through your lips. “Johnny, please.” You close your eyes, almost whining.

There’s a sharp pinch on your thigh and then a hand moves up your body, easily reaching your throat. Seonghwa.

“Gonna moan his fucking name when it’s my tongue making you feel so good?” He asks, his fingers tightening so sweetly around your throat. You try to swallow but under the pressure of his palm it’s tight. His thumb presses in and you feel the waning. “Moan for me, kitten. Come on.”

“Daddy!” Your voice is barely more than a croak, but it satisfies Seonghwa. Until you moan Johnny’s name half a second later as he stuffs you with his cock, filling your pussy up in one deep thrust while Seonghwa was distracted.

It feels so good to have him use you so roughly, fucking you from behind while Seonghwa chokes you.

A fucked-out smile starts to work its way onto your lips.

Johnny moves fast, hard, and deep, guiding your hips back to meet his thrusts. Seonghwa licks at your clit again, his hot lips kissing over your hips and inner thighs, but when his mouth is back on you, when each of Johnny’s thrusts pushes you forward against Seonghwa’s hot tongue, your body feels overheated, tingles swirling in your belly until one good thrust, one sweet suck from Seonghwa unleash it all.

“Oh god, yeah, Daddy! Johnny!” You cry out, one hand flying to Seonghwa’s hair, the other curling around the back of Johnny’s neck as they both carry you through your orgasm.

They both slow, but neither of them stop.

Seonghwa lets his fingers take over from his tongue as he stands. He catches your chin between his fingers and holds your gaze as he licks his lips in the most over-the-top sexy way. His gaze slides from yours to Johnny, and you gasp in surprise when Seonghwa jerks you away from Johnny, spinning you around and pressing your back down against your bed.

He covers you with his body, and you pull him closer, just wanting to feel full, not caring which one of them it is. Seonghwa slides in quickly to feel how wet you are, and you’re instantly clenching around him, nearing a second orgasm from this constant stimulation you’ve been experiencing. He slides his hands up your thighs, pushes them up toward your chest, letting him reach even deeper inside you.

The mattress shifts, and there’s Johnny’s kneeling beside your face. His big dick is right there, still glistening with your wetness. It takes no prompting from him to have you leaning up on your elbows to take him in your mouth.

You sink into the feeling of being stuffed on both ends, the rhythm of sex, rocking motions. The pleasure swells inside you, taking over completely, swallowing you down into the depths of it until you’re drowning in the headspace.

Tears prick at the corners of your eyes when Johnny hits the back of your throat, when Seonghwa fills you so deeply you can feel him in your gut. Johnny rocks his hips against your face and you just take it all, gagging and choking, dripping saliva and tears and sweat and your wetness. 

“This--” Johnny groans, pulling out for a second to tease the head of his dick against your tongue before you swallow him down again, too hungry for it to let him go for long. He clears his throat and tries again, “This is so good. Better even.”

Seonghwa moans and he reaches for one of your breasts. “You normally feel absolutely heavenly, kitten. But, shit, Suh, you’re right. She’s so wet, so horny for the two of us. Taking us so well, sweetheart.” 

You moan in response, loving the praise. 

“What if we let a third guy fuck you too, someone else who we know would fuck you just as well as us.” Johnny groans, thrusting down your throat, his fingers tight in your hair. “He’d fill your pretty ass while Seonghwa fucks your pussy and you choke on my cock. She’d be so pretty with all her holes filled. Probably feel even better too, be more of a little slut for us. All ours.” 

“Fuck, yeah, she would be.” Seonghwa holds your thighs, his hips slapping against your skin. He groans, “You’d be so fucking tight, kitten. Filled with two cocks, so tight and warm. And imagine how full you’d feel, you always talk about wanting to feel full.”

You do. You so want to feel full. If you were at a point in life where you felt you could risk getting pregnant, if you felt you meant enough to either Johnny or Seonghwa that you would risk it, you would love to have them truly fill you.

Seonghwa’s hand comes down sharp against your thigh, making you moan around Johnny’s cock deep in your throat. His thrusts are growing slower, more intent less about prolonging the pleasure now and more about just getting there.

You squeeze your thighs at Seonghwa’s hips, suck along Johnny’s cock as you pull back only to have him fucking in deeper with his hand twisted in your locks. You roll your hips up trying to get Seonghwa there. You choke around Johnny’s cock.

When you close your eyes and all you’re left with is the pleasure, the sound of your heartbeat muffled in your ears, your pulse vibrating in every last cell of your being, the moans of your two lovers sounding like the sweetest song. 

Seonghwa moans deeply, pushing in as deep as he can, his fingers pinch your clit, pinch and roll one of your nipples, and another orgasm explodes inside you so intense that you don’t know how your body holds itself together. 

Rolling and drowning, caught in the ocean of them. Crashing waves against your body, and you just let them carry you, sweep you away, drown you and ruin you all at once.

You don’t know when Johnny leaves your mouth, only that suddenly you can suck in lungfuls of breath again.

“I’m gonna cum.” Seonghwa grunts, still rolling his hips, his cock in his hand now, and you struggle to sit up a bit. You reach for your tits, push them together, and give him a place to aim as he bites his lip and rolls his head back and bucks forward as he cums.

It’s so beautiful to see his pretty cock shooting cum on your chest. The way it leaks down his length has you wanting to lean forward and clean him up, but before you can, Johnny’s there, licking at your breasts, his hands gentle on your waist as he eases you back onto your back.

You curl your fingers against his neck, lifting your chest to his lips, moans spilling from your lips as easily as breathing. It’s second nature to part your thighs to make room for him, and Johnny takes his place. You’re so tired by now, your legs ache from the way that Seonghwa had you, but Johnny’s hands now move gently from your waist to your thighs, back up and down. 

He sucks hickeys on your chest, taking level slow thrusts, his breath hot where it touches the wet marks he’s left behind. You dig your nails into his shoulders, keen his name until Seonghwa’s lips cover yours, silencing you. 

Johnny goes entirely silent when he cums, pulling back just enough that you feel his cum bubbling hot against your clit, dripping down over your pussy but not inside you. 

You wrap your arms around his shoulders, your legs around his hips. Johnny rests his head on your chest while Seonghwa kisses you breathless, slowing it down after a moment until the kiss is little more than just your lips resting against each others. 

The three of you stay like this for a while until Seonghwa’s breathing goes quite sleepy. Johnny pulls away from you, but he doesn’t stray far. He picks up the scraps of your shirt and wipes his cock and stomach, your thighs and in between your legs. 

Seonghwa groans and flops over onto his back, and Johnny kneels between his legs, still holding the shirt. He’s tender, maintaining eye contact with Seonghwa as he carefully runs the remains of your shirt over Seonghwa’s stomach and his cock. The younger of the two sucks in a breath, looking up at him, but he doesn’t say anything.

You sniffle and turn onto your side, reaching for a pillow to hold to your chest. 

Johnny looks at you.

“Baby, how do you feel?” He tosses aside the rag, sliding over to wrap you in his arms. “Was that good for you?”

“Yeah.” Your voice is a croak from the abuse your throat has suffered. “Very good.” 

Seonghwa touches your throat lightly with his fingers. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. It was so good. I loved all of it.” You release the pillow in favor of curling up against him instead. “Trust me, Daddy. I can handle whatever the two of you want to do with me. Just be sweet with me afterwards and I’m all yours.”

Johnny snorts, fitting himself right behind you. His fingers ghost over your cheek, down your arm until he slots his fingers between yours. “You’re ours. Our sweet.” His lips press against the back of your shoulder. “Competing for your affection is futile, isn’t it? You’d rather have us both in turns?”

You nod. “Want you both. The day you both came into my life was the best day ever. Just wish I didn’t have to keep it a secret so I won’t lose my job.”

“Oh, sweetheart. You have us, why would you ever need a job?” Seonghwa says. “You be our sweet as honey girl, and we’ll be your sugar daddies.”

Well, now that would be a hard offer to turn down, you think as they both scatter more kisses on your cheeks and shoulders, showering you with affection as moonlight shines through the sheer curtains over your window, casting everything in a wonderful, perfect, and dreamy light.

a/n: park seonghwa is an absolute menace, too sexy for his own good and is singlehandedly ruining my life and turning me into an atiny. I was talking with the fantastic and amazing @vernon-van-chwe​ about him and also about johnny because seonghwa currently has that whole cherry bomb era johnny look and it inspired this whole long mess of a piece of smut. it was definitely not supposed to be this long (which i say like every time i post something) but seriously, I was hoping to get it done that day and now it’s been like a week..... so yeah

anyway, i hope you enjoyed it. if there are any atinys reading this who are new to my blog! hi, nice to meet you I’m Bea an nctzen who really usually only writes for nct/wayv but I was truly inspired by the god park seonghwa. likes, reblogs, comments (through messages or tags or whatever way) are always and forever appreciated 😘😘😘

[vinylhazza]

"You're everything to me" with Grayson? Love you and your writing! :)

really cheesy and fluffy, you’re welcome.

insecurity is tough when you don’t even know what’s backing it. it’s an ugly emotion, and it was by far one of the feelings you hated the most. insecurity and jealousy together? powerful beyond imagination. for sure enough potential to turn a good day upside down.

grayson has never given you a reason to be jealous or insecure. not one single reason. he treated you like gold quite frankly, fine china within the palm of his hands. but for some reason today was just a day you were getting into your head, wrapped up in your own rapid thoughts - overanalyzing how wonderful of a man he was and how average you were.

you weren’t always this insecure. you just had your days like any other person. and some of those days are harder than others. today happens to be one of those days. it was a day that had your heart speeding up while you watched him make coffee, stirring the liquid around in his mug, a soft smile resting on his lips. you’d been scrolling through you phone absentmindedly, torturing yourself with the hate comments left under pictures of your smiling face and body shots of you and gray at the beach. it was something you did when you didn’t feel the greatest, make yourself feel even worse.

you’re so deep in thought, picking at your nails anxiously while sitting on the counter that you almost didn’t catch grayson gently humming “you okay sweetheart?”

he’s taking a sip from his coffee, offering the mug out to you only for you to shake your head softly. you’re not good and you hate that you’re not good. you hate that you’re upset for no fucking reason. what is even the point in hiding it at this point? you’re always honest with him and this isn’t any different. it was one thing you’ve established - no secrets. if you’re feeling down: body that shit. own it. talk about it and figure it out together.

“what’s wrong?” he’s questioning, rubbing over your cheekbone with the pad of his thumb, feather light strokes back and forth. it’s soothing and just what you need right now - his comforting touch.

it takes you a moment to decide if you want to actually give him an answer or not. it’s early in the morning, he’s having his usual coffee, trying to start the day off right...and you honestly have to ruin it? so you settle on a tiny, “just thinkin.”

he sets the mug down on the table, getting that feeling deep in his gut that you just weren’t good. it was something he’s always been good at: knowing when he needed to step in and hold your hand through the dark thoughts you tortured yourself with. the “grayson specialty” is what he called it, regardless of how many times you teased him for the cheesy title. however; he was quite good at fixing your hammering heart and racing thoughts.

“penny for your thoughts?” he smiles wider, fond and relaxed. you know he’s genuinely curious from the tiniest of twinkles in his eyes, prominent eyebrow raised up to shoot you a questioning look. he’s kneeled down in front of you, on your level and face to face. he knows it makes you feel better when he’s not towering over you when you’re upset.

before you can fully shrug your shoulders for a nonverbal ‘i don’t know’ he’s leaning in, grasping your legs and lifting you up with a squeal, only to wrap them around his waist to hold you close. your arms are circled around his neck, head falling to rest in the crook of his neck, trying to focus on breathing because you can physically feel yourself in the beginning of a full on breakdown.

sometimes it’s hard for you to control your thoughts - not about certain topics but in general. if you get fixed on something, it haunts you until you find a solution. but this had no solution, it was your own silly insecurities.

“nuh uh, don’t hide from me, it’s just me yeah? the only way for me to help is if you tell me baby,” he hums, hugging you tightly to his chest, snuggled up and rocking you in his arms quite like he would a child. it’s something that’s always helped you, to be tucked into him as close as you can be. to be held close and never let go.

it takes you a few moments longer to collect yourself enough to mumble, “why do you want me?”

it’s quiet and pathetic and you hate that you sound so fragile. what kind of a question is that anyway? you know that personally, you wouldn’t know what to say to that question if the roles were reversed. you wanted him for...him. his heart, body, and soul. you’ve wanted him for so long you didn’t even remember what not loving him felt like.

“lots of reasons angel,” he hums again, peppering kisses onto your shoulder blade where your shirt had fallen, “in specific, i want you for your smile, that glowing perfect smile. i want you for your utmost positivity in any situation. i want you for your beauty not only on the outside but inside as well. i want you for your heart. i want you when i wake up and when i go to bed. i want you more than i’ve ever wanted anyone and don’t you ever question. i don’t care where life takes me, i’m always going to want you and don’t you ever worry about that...you’re everything to me.”

the sun continues to rise slowly while he speaks, managing to crack your little wall of overanalyzing to get the tiniest of smiles against his neck. you hum, your heart settled down to a normal rhythmic thumping. he’s being cheesy, but he’s being real. the reassurance is really all you needed. you shouldn’t need it, but you’re only human and sometimes you needed it to quiet the running thoughts.

you squeeze your arms tighter around his neck, twisting your head to kiss at the skin of his neck as well, loving the warmth beneath your lips, noting the quick pulse. your question made him quite nervous. “thank you bubba....” you whisper between pecks, feeling bad his coffee is probably getting cold, “love you more than you know.”

“i think i do know, because i love you just the same...endlessly. i hope you know you’re it for me. i want you,” his voice so deep with reason it makes you sit up to look him in the eyes, so soft, “you hear me? i want you. i’m always going to want you.”

it’s really all you needed. the rest of the morning is a cluster of coffee, disney movies, a nice warm morning shower, a lazy make out session that just feels like home. rolling of tongues and pecks that are tender and so very deep it takes your breath away.

you believe him. not only because of his words, but because he shows you every day that he wants you and has never suggested any different. you make yourself a promise to stop getting in your head so much and just enjoy this fiery love that fuels the both of you. you decide that...those comments don’t fucking matter because what do they know? they don’t know about the things you do. they don’t know about the talks of the galaxy, the night he woke you up at midnight just to lay a blanket in the backyard and watch the stars and point out constellations, a night so meaningful to you. it was random but so...grayson.

they don’t know about the way he holds you in the night when he thinks you’re asleep. and they for sure don’t know that he whispers things he’s too afraid to say, knowing you’re asleep and surely can’t hear him, but wanting to tell you to quiet his own thoughts as well. he’s never ever loved anyway with his whole person like he does you. they don’t know that after every late night talk he has, knowing he can say whatever he wants without too much discussion, he lays a ghost of a kiss on your lips and each of your eyelids, smoothing your hair behind your ear and falling asleep better than he ever has.

they don’t fucking know so why worry about what they think? you love him and he loves you and that’s all you need to know. it works. it’s perfect for you and means more to you than believing a few hate comments from individuals that are so unhappy with themselves they need to bring down others.

it means so much more. he’s everything. and that’s enough.

[caligobeltrao]

I for one would love 2 hear ur thoughts on the hannibal novel 👀👀 - bloodybrahms ☺

ahhh thank you BB!! <3 I’m gonna throw it under a cut bc I know people aren’t gonna want my ramblings clogging up their dash lol. 

Edit after I’ve written it: Holy shit this turned into a monster but tbf I did say I was going to rant. I think I miss writing college essays...

Also, I would like to note bc I’m about to bitch, I do still love Hannibal and Clarice and all of the franchise. Hell, I even love book Hannibal because I’m garbage and want to be special. So yeah. It’s a fond bitching. 

Okay where to fuckin begin man... This novel was a fucking Shit Show, my dudes. It was like baby’s first fanfiction. 

Let’s just jump in, shall we? 

So by now, having read both Red Dragon and Silence of the Lambs, I know Harris injects of lot of sexual shit into his novels, fine whatever, but the amount of pedophilia is insane. Like, Red Dragon with the grandmother threatening to cut his dick off by holding it in between scissors????? And then we have Mason Verger, worst human on the planet. Like jfc I’ll go into him specifically more later but just. Men. Why does it always have to be sexual. 

Like that time Clarice wasn’t wearing a bra and she wanted to prove to Paul Krendler she wasn’t wearing a wire so she flashed him her tits?? Unnecessary, Harris. Bullshit on all counts. 

Next, poor Ardelia Mapp. So he clearly wrote out her accent in Silence, which frankly reads racist since to me it seemed like he did it every time a character of color was met but he didn’t for Clarice’s Southern accent except for this book when she was talking to Ardelia. Now, that’d be a cool way to show how close they are, sure, but it just... She didn’t show up enough to warrant that reaction from me, plus all the other casually racist shit he throws in. 

Ardelia’s literally there as the wise Black best friend to help Clarice along. She doesn’t feel like her own character, she’s only there in conjunction with her, or doing something for her. She was the fucking valedictorian for Christ fucking sake, she also works at the Bureau but if her department was mentioned it was only once in passing. She was not a full character which fucking blows because she could’ve been so cool. 

And real quick before I forget, I hate how she’s treated in the end. I do like she gets a reference and that brainwashed Clarice sent her an emerald ring and a note saying she was okay, but Ardelia was abandoned by her best friend (that she had lived with) with not even a phone call and they will never see each other again and I think Ardelia knows it. It sucks and I’m heartbroken for this woman. 

I’m gonna touch a little bit on the racism too. Now I’m white and not the most qualified to talk about this shit, but I do wanna mention it because it makes me mad. There’s just so many unnecessary slurs, any POC is more of a background helper character to Clarice than anything or a foil. 

For example, Evelda Drumgo. She starts us off. Badass Black woman who runs a drug cartel. She chooses to shoot at Clarice and risk her baby’s life, and we have Clarice wash the baby off and save his life. Then Evelda’s mother is written as irrational when she slaps Clarice for visiting the baby in the hospital; I get Clarice’s impulse, but that woman just lost her daughter because Clarice killed her. I would’ve slapped Clarice too, even if it was a totally justifiable shot. 

The baby himself is used as a foil throughout other parts, most notably to me when Clarice goes to visit Mason the first time. There are two Black boys from a foster home playing in a room with a camera so Mason can watch them, and it shakes Clarice up a lil bit because of the baby, but it says she’s getting more used to it.

Now this is half and half well written and shoddy to me. It’d be a cool moment, if the whole incident wasn’t nearly completely forgotten for the rest of the book shortly afterword. It could show growth, if Clarice had any growth to show. 

And then the Romani people who are literally just used and thrown away. Sickening. Also very broadly used the stereotypes we hear which Sucks; the three we meet in any sort of depth are pickpockets, one was already in jail and Pazzi used his leverage as a police officer to get her to do what he wanted and threatened to have her baby taken away from her permanently, like it was just bad. And then the man got killed. Pazzi let him bleed out. Asshole. 

The slurs. I could take out all of them and pretty much have the same damn thing. Like I get showing negative aspects of characters and just because a character’s racist doesn’t mean the author is, but with the characters already being as shitty as they are, fully didn’t need it to make them worse. Entirely unnecessary. Racism or the character being racist has no impact on the plot is the major thing, I think. And you can replace that with anything along those lines, like sexist, homophobic, transphobic. It didn’t impact the plot, they can still be shitty, you just don’t need to use them. 

This also goes in reference to Margot being a lesbian. And the transphobia holy shit, it was disgusting. Harris had Clarice think something so cruel and unnecessary it’s like my guy why was that even remotely something we needed to hear. We didn’t. I wanted to stop reading because that’s not my Clarice, first and foremost, and second, this is supposed to be the character we LIKE. And now I don’t like ANYBODY in this damn book. 

And he treats Margot like shit too, and Barney. 

Their friendship was beautiful and great and finally for once something nice was happening in Margot’s life and I was happy reading it, and then FOR SOME REASON Margot goes to shower in the same room as Barney after a workout, which makes no sense, and then Barney tries to force a kiss on her (and he was hard, Harris made that very clear) and she had been sexually assaulted by Mason her brother and ruin the whole damn thing and none of it would have changed any other piece of the novel if you removed it!!!!!!!!! Entirely unnecessary!!!!!! And Barney had the gall to say well I couldn’t help myself like none of that was realistic in the slightest, she never would have went in the same room to shower with him. 

Something you need to do is basically get some suspension of disbelief from your reader and maintain and stretch that as you go, right? Well mine was gone at that moment.

Also side note Margot is basically just there to show how shitty Mason is for the umpteenth time. Her whole thing is lesbian sexual assault victim.

Also heavily implied she was a lesbian because of the sexual assault. And we rarely see Judy, her girlfriend, so. Bad. Bad all around. 

Circling back around to Clarice and how disappointing she is in the books as compared to the movies. Well, Clarice is also a poorly written character. She’s 1000x better in the movie. Hell, she’s even better in this book than she was in Silence, but that’s not fucking hard. 

Pretty much all the characters are so flat they don’t even classify as two dimensional. 

Like sure, maybe we wanna say Clarice didn’t really solve much in the first book and was just handed everything because she was a trainee and that’s what Hannibal wanted. 

Like if you remember the John Mulaney sketch of Delta Airlines where he’s just going “Okay!” and running to the next place he’s told, that’s Clarice. 

Okay so why does she get goaded into all this shit now? She should know better. She should know how to handle herself better. Like she messes up basic fucking shit like clearing a room before untying Hannibal, which was stupid, she seems oblivious to some of the politics at work even though she’s been in the FBI for like 7 years now, she would at least have more fucking contacts than Brigham who died in the beginning and Jack Crawford who died at the end by rolling over in his bed to his dead wife’s side and Ardelia who would be near the same level as Clarice I guess but I still don’t know her damn department???? Like you fucking network. 

Plus after her final fall from grace with the FBI, we meet or are told of random side characters that go no where and do nothing just to say “hey look at my special little girl, everyone likes her and looks up to her!!” Why? Because she caught Buffalo Bill 7 years ago and then never got a promotion or even worked with the BAU? Again, it does not make sense. People may pity her? But a random girl in the lab wouldn’t be fangirling. Starling herself said her career had gone nowhere because of the politics and not sleeping with Paul. You need to show me why she’s likable in her actions not others words. 

We spend more time away from her than with her anyways but Jesus. 

AND HER IN THE ENDING. She was fucking BRAINWASHED????? Bull FUCKING SHIT. He completely ruined anything he even remotely might’ve had in this cluster fuck of a novel. 

Case in point, difference from the movie, Hannibal spends weeks (possibly? it’s left purposefully vague and I’m guessing that’s because Harris didn’t know the ins and outs and wanted his novel done) meticulously brainwashing Clarice, he had stolen her father’s bones and she’s so far gone at that point she doesn’t care, and the whole scene where Paul is getting his brain eaten? Yeah, she happily indulges and when he insults her, she asks Hannibal for more. Fuck you, Thomas Harris. 

And Hannibal’s a Gary Stu, fucking fight me. 

In the movie he either is or he’s tap dancing on that line, don’t get me wrong, but in the novels it’s insufferable because it doesn’t seem earned. The pigs didn’t attack him because they didn’t smell fear on him. No. He’s easily able to drug and brainwash Clarice and take her as his lover. No. Go away. He’s so smart and one step ahead and can manipulate anyone and everyone into doing what he wants and blah blah blah shut up! A character being perfect isn’t interesting even if he’s evil!! We all know he’s never truly in danger because of how Harris writes him and that’s boring!! 

And I personally have a pet peeve where the villain is described as a monster or unstoppable. That’s boring and I no longer care about your story. I know 9 times out of 10 your main character is going to find a bullshit way around the impossible and kill it. Or it’s just like a default personality and nothing else is added to it. And that’s Hannibal. 

I’m on Hannibal Rising now and, spoiler alert, he’s very bland as a character. (Also Harris switched some details in the novel which kinda annoys me like get your own canon right my man but whatever.) The plot itself is pretty fun? I guess? Like there’s action and stuff and I’m enjoying that. But it’s the same set up where Harris’s Gary Stu always wins, like he was 13 in the book when he killed the butcher. Let. Your. Characters. Lose. 

Also even more racist shit but what did I expect really. 

Anyways, I have no idea who I’m supposed to root for in the novel because all the characters are just kinda shitty. It really just boils down to Harris not showing any redeeming qualities or actions from any of his characters. I liked Margot for a while out of spite but she never really went anywhere and the way she killed Mason (btw she sodomized him with a cattle prod to get his semen bc side plot and then stuffed his Moray eel down his throat and somehow I still don’t think that’s the worst part of the novel) just. No thanks really. 

All the random little side plots were also pretty not great. How many time does Harris have to say Pazzi of the Pazzis? Like I fucking get what you’re going for, even if I hadn’t watched the movie I’d be like, “Oh this dude’s gonna get hung outta that window, dope,” the literal first time. Stop treating your readers like idiots. 

And then Margot’s side plot was that the will their father left said she needed a biological heir to inherit because he was pissed she’s gay and we needed the homophobia I guess, so Mason got everything, and she was helping him with the Hannibal shit because he’s pretty incapacitated duh, and in return he would give her his jizz so Judy could be artificially inseminated and they could have a child and get some of her inheritance. I don’t care. It was all very gross, and Mason kept saying shit like suck me off you’ve done it before, I won’t be able to feel it anyway, maybe Judy’ll suck me off you think she’d like that. It’s all gross. 

And I guess this is a good a time as any to finally start on Mason. So a great rule of writing to make everything work better and give your story more depth is to give everyone both positive and negative traits right, even and especially the bad guys? Like, rules can always be broken if you’re a good enough writer, but I believe I have established that Harris isn’t quite there yet, to put it nicer than I have. 

Mason is one bad trait after another. It’s like when Harris was bored of constantly writing about plain ole pedophilia, he threw a dart at a board of horrible things and landed on topics such as: pedophilia but make it incest, extreme sadism, sadism but against children now, and good old fashioned racism! Fucking Cordell was supposed to collect the children’s tears after Mason would make them cry and put them in martinis for him. Realism went out the goddamn door real fast with this novel y’all. Like a fucking Scooby Doo villain over here. 

And he loves talking about being a sadistic pedophile, he will literally not shut up about it to Clarice when she first gets there telling her about his trip to Africa and this portable guillotine he has and just. I get it was probably like trying to make her uncomfortable on purpose because he’s a Freak, but it went way too far if only because it was annoying, not even uncomfortable for me as a reader. I was bored real quick. Get to the shit I actually wanna know. 

And it sucks because of the weird, over-the-top way of how he died, I got zero satisfaction from his death. I couldn’t even be like, “Well at least Margot got her revenge,” because that’s not how she originally wanted to kill him!!! She wanted someone else to extract his semen for the insemination but couldn’t find anybody to do it for her, and then Hannibal, whilst tied up, said use a cattle prod and you won’t have to touch him and when you kill him you can blame it on me, and I’m pretty sure even if she hit his prostate right every time and he COULD cum from that alone in addition to how his body is Fucked Up now, it would’ve been a lengthy, gross, and re-traumatizing experience for her because all she wanted to do was avoid seeing and touching her brother’s private parts again, which I think is a totally fair and rational desire. 

So I have to live with the fact that she was desperate enough to not lose the house and business because of her homophobic father to go through her childhood trauma again. There’s no place in this book that has a somewhat positive conclusion. 

Even the very last bit where Barney has a girlfriend and a ton of cash from Margot, all he wants to do is see every Vermeer in the world right? Well, because Hannibal and Clarice are in Buenos Aires where one of them is on display, Barney gets spooked and has him and his girlfriend leave before he can see it and it ends that bit with he never got to see it ever so he didn’t even complete his dream!!! 

Also for good measure, Harris throws in that Hannibal and Clarice enjoy having sex regularly. For no reason. Just letting us know. 

I know this seemed like just a bitch fest, because it was, but I kinda sorta enjoyed it? It kept my attention at the very least. It’s really disappointing because like I said, I love the movies, all of them, and have since I was little. To see the original not stand up to that image in my mind is a little heartbreaking. Especially Clarice. She was a strong female role model to me, but turns out she’s... just kinda there. And her ending is that of her no longer being herself and getting that agency taken away from her. 

There is a reference to her waking up from a sleep, if she is asleep (that’s kind of how he worded it), that kinda let us draw our conclusions on whether she was just brainwashed into being good for him or if she was willingly going along with this and was in love with him I guess and it felt like a slap in the face. She turned from a hardworking, modest country girl working her way up to the FBI into a female Hannibal. Which on the surface sounds kinda cool because we love luxe serial killers, but that’s not what she wanted or who she was set up to be. And to insinuate that she would even remotely consider choosing that path for herself is at its best an insult to her and at its worst a complete erasure of her background, what little character Harris did set up. It also completely erases my own connections to her, as a girl from a small town myself who has bigger dreams than this and also... a good, strong set of morals. He just tossed that out the window. 

Obviously if you’re on this blog, you like slasher x reader shit, and this is a novel with a slasher x a person, right? So why am I so mad about it? Because the whole point of this blog and reader insert fanfiction in general is that you are taken as you are and loved wholly as yourself and that you are worthy of that love (in a fictional setting, not really loving people who are like this, which I think we understand but I want to clarify). She was not taken as she was. He is not in love with her, she is not in love with him. She was transformed into what he wanted out of her. He couldn’t get her to be Mischa, his first plan, so he made her like himself. And the fact that he was so easily able to do it makes me upset, and even more so is that it’s not written like it’s weird or wrong. It’s written like they’re in love and this is a good thing. 

He may have been going for the classic “everyone is capable of doing bad things” stuff we see a lot, but we got that from Margot already. And Barney, for stealing Lecter’s stuff and selling it. And Paul, and the entire FBI for turning on Clarice, and the kidnappers, and Pazzi, and random shitty side characters. And none of it was particularly well written or made some sort of strong statement. It just was. And that’s not a good enough basis for a novel. 

Anyways, if you made it this far holy shit you’re a saint and I love you, let’s be friends?? <3 Have a good day y’all, thank you BB for giving me permission to ramble. 

[whoslaurapalmer]

alright guess who’s rolling in a smooth fifteen and a half years late with some 2004 movie takes because I just rewatched it

i mean we’ve all seen the 2004 movie none of the following words are going to be new or anything but it gave me something to do 

-for the record, the last time I watched this was…..2016 or earlier???? I would put it on in the background sometimes because it was the only snicket media content available -but as referenced in my backstory post, I did indeed see it in 2004. -i BEGGED my parents to take me to see it. they did not. -we were out to a late lunch/early dinner right after it came out, and I kept grabbing my mom’s watch and telling her how far away we were from the next showing and since the restaurant was so close to the movie theater that we could definitely make it in time. -we still did not go. -but, as per the post, one of my best friends had a birthday party where we all went to the movies to see it. -probably because our librarian had read us the bad beginning, but my class was SUPER into the series. there was one kid who wrote all his creative writing assignments in lemony’s style. -i wonder if he’s still into the series……..

-you know all this time later I still don’t know how I feel about the littlest elf. how do people feel about the littlest elf?? like props for pulling an unauto reference but……...littlest elf -but I did just notice one of the elves is holding a SHOTGUN

-okay the feel to this though. like…..god the aesthetic is so good in this movie -the gears and the clocktower and the fog and that beach and just…….fuck -oh no my mind is spinning. like I know this isn’t the reason but those trees poking out of the water is just giving me massive ‘clusterous forest after it presumably flooded’ vibes -i think the movie, for all it fails re: most of the emotions, really gives a sense of emptiness and loneliness though, the city and the landscape feel small and contained -i like jude law’s voice and I like what they did with lemony in this movie but I love and will always love patrick warburton. -the spyglass doesn’t work here either because it never got the chance to pan out because there was only one movie and it’s still too early and forcing it right away because there’s no timeeeeeee

-i like jim carrey a lot better when he’s not being, jim carrey -you know what I mean???? -like he’s so good in eternal sunshine, I love eternal sunshine -like I like nph a lot as olaf but I also feel…..it’s very nph. like I don’t look at carrey’s olaf and think ‘that’s 100% olaf’ but I don’t look at nph’s olaf and think ‘that’s 100% olaf’ EITHER there’s something still very much of the actor about both their interpretations as if they both leaned too much into the absurdity that was in olaf (carrey acting for the troupe and like 80% of his mannerisms in the movie, nph in slippery slope and the musical numbers) but not hard enough into what made olaf olaf -idk -i think they both had really good menacing!olaf moments though – nph in hostile hospital, carrey threatening violet at the end, those are ones that still really stand out to me, and that’s really important to olaf’s character, he was a villain and he wasn’t always that smart but he was capable of such cruelty just as much as absurdity -but not enough for me to look at either and say ‘that hit everything I wanted someone to hit in olaf’ -and it’s not even a matter of them downplaying the cruelty to hit you with it later for mood whiplash or anything, there wasn’t enough of all the parts of olaf to give that whiplash 

-i have nothing to say about the troupe I just don’t even want to go there

-i’m getting ahead of myself here in the movie but like, we all know that klaus takes a lot of violet’s moments in this movie, especially her biggest one in the marvelous marriage climax, and thinking about that makes me mad about all the netflix moments in s3 where klaus did more than violet too, and now I’m like, really incredulous that that happened in netflix too

-the lil fort scene has always stuck in my mind ever since I was a kid

-weird props to the movie for having their names on the custody document as ‘sunny, klaus, and violet’

-‘last chance superette’ okay well that’s something

-the car and the train has also been something that stuck with me a lot -like…….i actually really like this scene a lot and I’m trying to, explain why -it’s a really scary scene!! there’s a lot of tension and I appreciate that a lot!! it’s not canon but it’s remarkably well done and I think it honestly fits really well, it’s something olaf would do, and the fact that poe is upset because sunny was driving and not that olaf wanted to kill them, that’s, at least there’s that -(i really like the books pulling out when klaus remembers something too) -like I really don’t know why but I like it framed like this. I LIKE the movie framed like this. that they get taken away from olaf so quickly by something so absurd that isn’t why they should be taken away but wind up in his hands again at the end and then they get away again and typing it out makes it sound so….repetitive and stupid and like it doesn’t make sense but idk. idk!!!! there is something about it I like -like repetitive for the movie, because it’s, contained as itself as one movie, but, maybe a little close to the books -hmmmmm -still can’t word this right -i guess just, in terms of the movie!canon, it was styled well, for how the movie was structured -(of course it falls apart when klaus has to do violet’s stuff at the end of the movie that just fucks it all up. but right here. I did like it.)

-the movie’s “there’s always something” vs netflix’s “i’m gonna fix this”……….both are good

-monty brought the strongest vfd vibes in this movie didn’t he re: spyglass, lost his wife in a fire, violet remembering the song monty sings -i’ve said this before and this is completely unrelated but I don’t think going to peru was intended as a vfd recruiting thing -oh no wait this is very related, here??? in the movie???? “we’ll be among people who understand us” who value clever children or whatever, oh yeah movie!monty was gonna do it -(i need to think more about monty re: vfd and his experiences because, there’s a lot of possibilities here, honestly, and I think because we don’t see monty in atwq and he’s so early in the series proper that I don’t consider him in vfd and what that meant for him as much as I should)

-both versions of like the physical reptile room inspire such adventure and excitement……….i love that….those big windows and all the reptiles…….

-the sanctuary theme would be better in a different movie because like, the series isn’t about ‘sanctuary’ per se -it’s about something close to that but not ‘sanctuary’ for sure, like that’s such a weak, barely skimming the surface reading of the themes

-you know???? netflix!gustav was good. -like I don’t want to just compare the movie to the netflix show the whole time you know because they ARE separate entities although based on the same source and just have completely different takes and for both some of those takes were good and some of them were bad, but I never did like that image of gustav -i did like the dart in netflix though. a one good moment…. -(it’s also hard to compare them because 1-3 is all we got with the movie and 1-4 were some of the only books solidly done by netflix)

-klaus saying “everything happens for a reason” that’s never been a favorite saying of mine

-“it is a curious thing, the death of a loved one” is a line that’s pained me so much the older I’ve gotten and I care about it a lot because it’s so true, and I think it works better as narration than josephine saying it (I thought it was out of character for her to say it in netflix actually) BUT I ALSO get so pissed that the movie leaves out “as your mind tries to adjust to the way things are now” or however the rest of the quote goes

-reptile room in netflix after monty dies though is real top-notch and I love it a lot, this one is just, it’s decent but it’s rushed -i could say that about the whole movie, it’s decent but it’s rushed -the thing about the movie though is that like. it hits the major overall notes of the plot of each book just in a very quick and short and therefore low-key manner and because it’s a movie and an hour 48 minutes and they have to rush so netflix, spacing it out in two episodes, had more time and could do it better -and yet. at the same time. -we all know that one of my top complaints about the netflix show is that they too rushed a lot of scenes that I think should have been slower, that were slower in the books -and it’s not like I think the movie did a better job. because the movie fails in a lot of ways, and doesn’t go anywhere into the trauma or any of the real sadness -and even though it fails like that and cuts so much short. there are moments where I think it works better -and I’m trying to tell myself this isn’t just because I’m still living the ‘incredibly outraged at netflix even now, especially lately’ life and I’m not just picking one over the other because I don’t want to -and I’m trying to think of a moment more than just the letter at the end that the movie gave time to the kids to feel something and I can’t (and I can’t count the letter because it’s, the letter) but -i do think the movie let things stretch for even a second longer -it could be the aesthetic because I love the aesthetic of the movie a lot -i don’t know I think….both of them have strengths, netflix had more time but the movie hit a closer aesthetic, at least to me -and netflix didn’t USE that time, is what I’m getting at, and somehow the movie had just a tinier bit more time even though it was shorter, but that probably is just because, the aesthetic, I am a sucker for it -i think this part has something to do with my feelings about netflix’s vfd subplot, that’s probably, where this is coming from, and sometimes I think the clothing and the scenery in the netflix show especially in s1 was very colorful which is fine really that’s such a petty thing to dislike

-“doesn’t it strike you as odd that none of our relatives are related to us?” is still top notch

-although josephine has the pictures I still think monty does have the stronger vfd vibes. -i love the way that window curtain opens!! fucking terrifying!!!!! -i think of jane lynch turning around and saying “is this a bad time?” even now that’s still hilarious

-okay this is it. -this is really truly the one thing the movie did better than the netflix show, and a lot of people feel the same way about this -hurricane herman. -(it was so…….kidsy and kind of charming in the show. and even in the books it wasn’t charming. it was a lot shorter, but not charming.) -like this is legitimately terrifying and how all josephine’s fears come true is one of the most PERFECT things -don’t TEMPT me by saying “[ike] was investigating fires” because I don’t have the time to have ike thoughts right now because that almost lines up with a wip I have, so fuck you -(when I fell asleep to this movie the other day I thought to myself ‘gee hope I don’t wake up during the hurricane scene’ I did in fact wake up then and had to turn the volume down.)

-i think when it was 2004 and I was watching this in the theater I did not watch the leeches, ten year old!me wasn’t having it -there’s a lot of fear in this movie, I’ll say that though, it doesn’t hit the sadness but it hits some of the fear

-here we go, back to bad beginning content -“and what about what I want?” he got the creepiness really good though ugggggg

-okay as many things as I think are not okay but decent in this movie, f u c k  y o u for giving klaus the grappling hook and rescuing sunny!! fuck you for having him burn the paper and not letting violet do the left-handed thing!!! why even change that????? why e v e n there’s no reason to change it -how dare olaf say “rapscallion” in this that’s one of my favorite words -god the soundtrack was so good though………... -“right hand please” yeah I will slap you -klaus is the only one who gets these sad flashbacks god movie I was giving you, some, benefit, of the doubt, watching this as an adult, until this part, when I just, nah man -“these children tried to tell you but you didn’t listen” this is NOT the speech for OLAF to give -movie you were doing okay but you just REALLY fell apart here. none of this is okay -even the ‘these happy things happened! no they did not because the world doesn’t work that way’ falls flat against how lemony would say that in the books, seeing it ruins it -it actually reminds me of the ‘look at all these side characters having happy endings’ in s3 though

-i did always like this scene too though. where they go back to the mansion at the end -i liked the staircase, too. -i will say, there is something….very emotional, about finding something from a loved one, after they’re gone, that you didn’t know they did for you, or that they did at all, and to find it so suddenly. I think the spirit behind the letter in general, not the content and not the weird optimistic ending it leads to, but just the spirit of the letter, is close to violet and klaus and sunny reminiscing on their parents in the books

-the movie was before the beatrice letters but, lemony hanging out in a clocktower with these pigeons and bea’s letter having been delivered by pigeons…….

-ultimately, yes. it was decent, but rushed. -it wasn’t as ABSOLUTELY TERRIBLE as I remember saying it was a few years ago, if I think about it as a self-contained sort of thing, there were some things I liked or appreciated, the costumes and the scenery and the soundtrack fit my mental image of the books -although you know what???? you know something i did not consider until the movie was over??? that could just be, I DID see the movie when I was first reading the books as a kid and it may have just stuck with me as The Image I Had And Sometimes Still Do For Parts Of The Books, huh   -but in terms of how it translated the books, like if I think about 1-3 and what they contain, on more than just a surface level of going through plot beats, yeah, it failed hard, and missed the mark a lot -the last like half hour made me a lot more pissed than ever, though, ugggg -i’d put it on in the background again, though.

[fullsundh]

80s! Haechan (AU)

so i love the 80s era and I love lee donghyuck so why not put them together? note: sorry if some of this is not fully accurate. I’m just using basic 80s pop culture knowledge (and a bunch of movie stereotypes)

genre: fluff/enemies to lovers/badboy! au.

warnings: the tiniest mention of drugs and some swearing. light badboy! au themes.

donghyuck is pretty much the bad boy of the school

he’s popular because of his attitude and attractiveness but he distances himself from everyone

he usually spends his time alone, sat at the back of the class, using his walkman to block out the world and listen to the rock mixtape he worked hard to put together.

well that’s if he even turns up to class

this little rebel has probably never attended a science class in his entire life because he always skips them

rumour has it that when he skips class, he’s hidden in one of the old store cupboards getting high or making out with one of the cheerleaders

not only was donghyuck the school’s mysterious badboy, he was also your lab partner. but, you were yet to see him actually turn up to one of the lessons.

you didn’t mind all too much. you were happy with working alone. it meant you could get the grade you needed without any distractions.

but you weren’t too happy when your teacher announced to the class that the upcoming project had to be completed with equal input from each lab partner

how the hell were you gonna pass this when your lab partner never turned up to class?!?!

as soon as the dismissal bell rang you stormed your way out of the school building and into the car park where you saw the boy lying down on the hood of his car, arms casually resting behind his head. he wore sunglasses to block out the summer sun and headphones to block out the rest of the universe.

well, that was until you forcefully pulled his headphones out of the cassette player strapped to his waist.

he immediately sat up. you couldn’t see his eyes through the shades but it was obvious donghyuck was giving you a death stare

“what the fuck is your problem?” he spat out whilst he grabbed the headphones back off you and placed them around his neck.

“you’re my problem. You’re also my lab partner. Now we have a project coming up and you will help me with it because I’m not letting someone like you fuck it up for me”

donghyuck took off his glasses and laughed at the sound you, one of the top students, using such a harsh tone

“I don’t know what you find so funny donghyuck because I swear if you don’t turn up to class tomorrow I wi-“

you were cut off by the sound of Bon Jovi starting to echo from the boy’s headphones, he was known for his heavy rock persona, not a day would go by where he wasn’t wearing his classic leather jacket

“Yeah whatever, sunshine. I’ll be there if I feel like it” and with that, he placed the headphones back over his ears to stop you from arguing any more and hopped off his car to go elsewhere, leaving you stood all alone.

an entire week had passed and donghyuck had still not turned up to a science class to do his part of the project. you were about to give up all hope and just beg your teacher to give you a different partner

well that was until you felt someone tap your shoulder and you were met with the badboy himself.

“Donghyuck what the fuck-“. Donghyuck cut you off before you could say anything else by placing his index finger against your lips.

“Listen, Sunshine, I’m only doing this because I’ll get into serious shit if I fail another class not because I like you or anything”

“I’m glad because I don’t like you either Donghyuck. I just want to pass not be your friend. ” you rolled your eyes at the thought of him ever being your friend, or more.

you watched him as he let out a loud sigh of, what you thought was, annoyance. He then handed you a slip of paper and casually told you to write down your address.

“I’ll come over tonight so we can get this shit over and done with as soon as possible” Donghyuck ordered as he took the note away from you and placed it in the back pocket of his jeans.

you immediately start to shake your head and wave your hands infront of you

“Are you kidding me Donghyuck? You can’t come to mine! My dad would freak out if I had a boy come over! We’ll just have to work together in the library like anyone else would”

this time the boy really did let out a sigh of annoyance and crossed his arms over his chest.

“God. Fine. You’ll have to come over to my place instead. We can’t work on the project in the library because I don’t want people seeing me with you”

when you heard those words leave his mouth you felt so much more upset than you would’ve expected

why do you suddenly care so much about what lee donghyuck thinks about you or says about you? you didn’t know. all you knew was that he hurt you somehow.

you were too busy looking down at the ground to notice how donghyuck instantly regretted his words when he saw your hurt self

he gently lifted your head up by placing his soft hand underneath your chin

“Quit pouting Sunshine, I was only joking. I’m just not allowed in the library because I’ve been banned, apparently I make to much noise...”. his hand quickly went from your chin to the back of his neck and he rubbed it out of embarrassment.

seeing the school’s mysterious badboy stand in front of you, with his cheeks tinted pink as his eyes searched to look anywhere other than you, made your heart rate go just a little faster than usual. maybe donghyuck wasn’t so bad after all?

-

it was just coming up to 5pm on a Friday night when you were stood at Lee Donghyuck’s front door waiting for him to answer. and to say you were nervous was a total understatement.

after what felt like lifetimes of waiting, donghyuck finally swung the door open. he stood in front of you wearing loose and baggy casual clothes, his hair messy. he was a bad boy turned soft.

he stood awkwardly under your gaze for a brief moment before returning back to his usual self and smirked at you as he stepped to the side and motioned for you to follow him inside and upstairs to his room.

donghyuck’s room was far from what you imagined it to be like. from his ‘bad’ image you expected a cluster of rock band posters to cover the walls, countless piles of clothes to be scattered across the floor, packs of cigarettes lazily hidden around the room and any illegal substances you could imagine to be placed amongst the shelves.

however you and your imagination were proved wrong when you stepped into a colourful and well kept room. framed pictures of donghyuck smiling happily with a group of boys you didn’t recognise were on display throughout the place. his shelves were filled with old action figures that must’ve been from his childhood days. countless copies of cheap comic books were stacked by the side of his bed. but what caught your attention the most was the boombox that stood next to a stand that was filled up with cassette tape after cassette tape.

“do you wanna listen to something y/n?” donghyuck said from behind you, a wide and proud smile on his face as he thought about how impressed you must be at his huge collection.

you walked over and started to pull out a few tapes at random to see what tapes he had. You started to laugh loudly as you inspected the name of the artists and songs written on the tapes.

“Donghyuck these are all pop singers,,,” you kept giggling as you turned to look at him and held up a handful of cassettes.

his eyes went wide as he remembered that he was supposed to hide away all of his ‘embarrassing’ things before you came over.

“DONT TOUCH THOSE! I-I umm, I mean those are my sisiter’s so you should put those away...” his cheeks were undoubtedly turning red and you could see that clearly he was lying.

so you decided to tease him further :)

“Wow Donghyuck I’m really surprised. I thought you were a bad boy? All anyone can ever hear in class is the sound of heavy rock coming from your headphones but now I’m finding out that you secretly listen to” -you scanned over the tapes infront of you and pulled out another one- “Cyndi Lauper?”

He snatched the tape from out of your hand and half heartedly mumbled another “that’s my sister’s tape” under his breath and looked down at the floor.

All you could do was smile at how cute the whole concept was. Donghyuck plays it off as if he is some dark and edgy rocker boy yet here he was, stood embarrassed infront of you, with a collection of cheesy pop albums bundled up in his arms. why would he be so shy about his true self?

you suddenly started to feel bad about teasing him and purposely making him feel shy in such a vulnerable situation

so, mirroring what donghyuck did to you that time in the school hallway, you lifted his head up from underneath is chin to make him look right into your eyes

“I’m only teasing Hyuck. I think these are cool and you’ve got an amazing music taste. Do you wanna listen to some Michael Jackson while we work?”

His face lit up and he gave you a beautiful bright smile. his heart felt warmer than ever. not only were you offering to play his favourite artist but you had also given him a nickname-hyuck. maybe you were starting to like him after all?

you two both sat comfortably on hyuck’s bed with the science project sprawled out in front of you but with every new playing song, a new conversation topic popped up, causing you both to forget all about the real reason why you went over that night.

the only thing that could be heard throughout the house that night was fits of laughter and giggles as you and donghyuck shared old memories, secret hobbies (as it was clear donghyuck had a lot of those), and anything else that came to mind.

“Oh my god! You’re kidding me y/n. Thriller is the best Michael Jackson song. Period.”

“Hyuck are you serious? His best song is P.Y.T and everyone knows that”

“Hey you wanna see something cool? I can do a pretty neat impression of him...”

after what felt like lifetimes more of endless laughter donghyuck came to a stop and found himself looking deep into your eyes, loving the way they glinted in the light as you smiled

and he didn’t know what gave him the sudden course of bravery. maybe it was the way you spoke to him as if you both had been best friends for years, maybe it was the way you shyly placed your hand over your mouth to hide your smile when he teased you, maybe it was just donghyuck’s heart taking more control over him than his mind

but he found the courage. he hardly even waited for you to notice how he was staring at you before he blurted it out.

“come out with me tonight to meet my friends y/n.”

you completely froze and with wide eyes you turned to give him a look as if to say ‘are you crazy?’

“C’mon Sunshine it’ll be fun, they don’t go to our school but they’re really cool and you’ll love them”

Without really having the chance to say anything you found yourself being dragged out to hyuck’s car with his hand in yours.

He turned to you and grinned as he started the engine causing the radio to start playing

You instantly pulled your hands up to your ears as the radio started to blare out heavy rock music as loud as possible

Donghyuck panicked and desperately pushed every button on the small machine to find the right one that would change the song.

After finally finding it he glanced over at you bashfully. you couldn’t help but smile back as you heard ‘every breath you take’ by the police starting to play

the whole scene was so relaxing. you both sat in a comfortable silence as the song played. the moonlight shone onto donghyuck’s features and it made you see him in a way you had never expected. you had come to the realisation that Lee Donghyuck, a boy you had hated since the beginning, was actually the most beautiful thing you had ever seen.

you turned you head away from him to look out of the window before he could notice that you were staring with heart eyes

the thought of donghyuck’s sudden beauty left your mind and you started to realise what you were actually doing. you were on your way to meet his friends.

you started to panic as all you could imagine was some sort of gang of boys that acted just the way donghyuck acted in school

what if he was taking you to the bad side of town and you would have to sit uncomfortably as a gang of mischievous teenagers stared at you wondering why the hell you were there with them?

The car came to a stop and you took in where you were.

“Are we lost?” You looked over at hyuck confused when you noticed that he had pulled up at the town’s arcade.

He rolled his eyes at you and got out of the car and waited for you to follow before heading into the brightly-lit building

Donghyuck grabbed you by the wrist and pulled you around the entire arcade but came to a sudden stop when you reached a group of five boys, all huddled around another boy whose eyes were fixated on the game of Pac-Man playing in front of him.

Donghyuck leaned in closer to you so that his voice could be heard over the sound of other games and shouting kids “if it’s Mark playing then I’ll give it a few more seconds before he completely blows it and dies”

A few moments later you heard the group of boys let out shouts of disappointment as ‘game over’ appeard on the screen infront of them. Donghyuck just stood there next to you with a smug grin playing on his lips until one of the boys turned around and noticed he had arrived.

“Hey look, Hyuck finally arrived and he’s brought someone” he said as he tapped a few of the others on the shoulder to gain their attention

The rest of the boys turned around and, like most things in donghyuck’s life, they were far from what you imagined them to be like. they all looked as if they couldn’t hurt a fly. after they had all introduced themselves to you, all of you made your way throughout the arcade playing game after game.

a while later it had finally started to get close to your curfew hour. you waved goodbye to your new group of friends and hyuck took your hand in his as he walked you to the car so he could take you home

“You’ve really surprised me today Lee Donghyuck” you said truthfully and took a glance at his cute concentration face as he drove through the darkness

“What were you expecting? me and my friends to be in some sorta hardcore gang? Sorry to let you down y/n but all we do is spend the week saving up quarters so we can spend Friday night beating the arcade’s high scores”

this time he wasn’t embarrassed or shy when talking about the real side to him. he felt so relaxed around you that he knew he could show his true self. after all that had happened that night, donghyuck knew that you weren’t an enemy. he knew that you weren’t just a person from high school that he’d forget all about in the years to come. he now knew that you were a friend, maybe even more.

Donghyuck switched the engine off once he had pulled up to your house and turned over to make his whole body face you as one of his arms rest on the wheel.

“Y/N, I’ve... I’ve had a real good time with you tonight and I was wondering if you want to like go out sometime again? but...just us two? like maybe we could catch a movie? I heard that’s what couples like to do... there’s that new movie out soon, the breakfast club or something like that-“

“Donghyuck are you asking me out on a date?” you cut him off from his messy rambling

“Yeah I think I am. So, are you up for it Sunshine?”

You couldn’t help but give him the biggest smile ever as you felt your cheeks heat up from happiness

“Of course I’ll go on a date with you Hyuck”

And with that, he leaned over and gave you a small kiss out of joy and excitement. You really had turned the badboy soft.

[buddhasfanficdictatorship]

Fanfic Progress Update: Light at the End of the Tunnel and Going Forward (Part 2 of 2)

Part 1: Here

Sorry this took awhile get out, my lying ass said “a few days” last time, but a month is about the same amount of time... right? I’ve been busy trying to finish up a fic I wrote for a very helpful friend as a Christmas gift, which obviously isn’t late as crap now. Besides that, some unavoidable stuff came up (including having my phone containing writing notes totally crap out on me, internet issues, oh and almost becoming homeless because my landlord jacked up rent a bunch without notice, forcing me to try to sell my plasma and to scramble for money. That was fun. But that’s a whole other story).

I hope you’ll understand that real life troubles have to take priority. I know, it’s always excuses with me, sorry. I wish I could control my life and not have all this shit constantly come up too.

Okay, now that my customary pathetic excuses are out of the way let’s get down to business! First up? Fic progress updates! But PREPARE FOR AN ONSLAUGHT OF WORDS! (as if that’s anything new).

The Bonds That Never Break: The last piece of the “Birthday” chapters (which were originally supposed to be one but got split because all these issues) has had some progress (maybe 1/4 of the way) and won’t be a difficult undertaking finishing it up since I know what I want to do, but... Honestly I've hit a major roadblock with the fic beyond this point. My ideas for original stuff are coming up empty and simply rewriting the entire plot isn’t my plan (even now I think the ratio is too far skewed for canon content without enough additions of my own).

The problem as I said in my Author’s Notes of the most recent chapter is the format keeps me tied to the canon, which limits my options. I love the idea, but I can’t deny doing a faithful canon rewrite is a pain sometimes. And in the coming chapters my new ideas are pretty much nil beyond a few scattered chunks from the Konoha Crush arc to about halfway through Shippuden.

Side Note: I planned on skipping canon rewriting most of Shippuden. The fights with Akatsuki and such don’t really play into Naruto and Sasuke’s relationship and I’m not interested in doing that much extra legwork beyond the main focus of this fic. I only care about the dorks and their story and elements of the anime that deal with it. So beyond that, we’ll jump a bunch of that and go directly to the end, a new ending where they get together eventually, where everything will be new.

So me being stuck being the case, I MAY skip forward a ways to something more solidly planned and thought out, and come back later to fill in the gap. Maybe to the point after the ending where everything is my own creation so we can see the dorks repairing their relationship and just making out like they SHOULD have done from the start. We’ll see what happens. I’d be very interested in hearing reader’s opinions, maybe I’ll set up a poll to see what you you think.

I REALLY think I need to put this on hold for a while and watch the anime start to finish, to help inspire me and bring back my passion. I love these guys but over the last year and a half my interest has faded. I need to get back into the ship and reignite those feelings I first had when I started the show so I can channel that into better chapters.

The Horny Canine Boys of the Hidden Leaf Village: Having trouble with this one too. To put it in semi-simple terms, I know what I want in chapter A and chapter C, but connecting them together with chapter B is causing me issues. Haven’t started the next chapter yet (technically the conclusion to the most recent one, since I broke that up because I wasn’t finished and had gone so long without updates) but I do know what it will involve and have plenty of notes so it shouldn’t take TOO long. That being said, from there I’m not sure what to do. I might skip forward and do chapters later on in the story first since I have a clearer idea of what I want them to be. This fic is mostly porn without plot so it’s not like skipping around would matter that much, but it’s still pretty frustrating. Probably going to make a poll for this one too, to get reader’s opinions regarding to skip or not.

Dogs Keep it in the Family: Some progress on finishing up the update I cut short, mainly need to assemble all the parts and ideas together into a cohesive whole. So not too much work. The problem with this one is mainly issues of quality I have with it, content not meeting my expectations. I have plenty of notes and a few more chapters plotted out, it’s mainly just finding the occasions where I can get some good writing done. That aside there’s also a lot of questions beyond the first couple chapters of what I want to include that I’m not sure about. I need to think more about this one.

The Unorthodox Journey of a Pokemon Breeder Boy: The next chapter of the Charizard segment is roughly half way done. But I pushed this out way too soon mainly because I was so sick of it being constantly on my “To-do list” in an in-progress state during months and months of interruptions. Going forward though I’m not really sure what I want to do with it; I simultaneously have this grand vision, but an abnormal lack of concrete ideas for new chapters. I’ve had some little sparks of inspiration and prompts, but beyond that I’m just not feeling it flow into a greater idea.

Here’s my planned schedule for this round of updates. Thing’s could change, but I’ll make a notice if they do.

1. Untitled Inuyasha fic; Koga/Ginta/Hakkaku threesome. This is a gift for a friend I’ve been trying to finish for weeks now

2. The Bonds that Never Break. Last segment of the Birthday chapter

3. The Horny Canine Boys of the Hidden Leaf Village. Next half of the Dogs Will Play chapter. This one has the least recent update (and is by far my most read fic) so I might push it ahead.

4. Dogs Keep it in the Family. Last chunk of the Mother’s Stern Hand chapter

5. The Unorthodox Journey of a Pokemon Breeder Boy. Second half of the Charizard segment

Next are details of my plans going forward. It’s lengthy (it’s ME after all) but important so I’d recommend checking it out. Long story short: After updating each of my current fics, I’m temporarily switching over from the large projects above to one-shots for a time.

But I’ll still be writing and I’m not dropping any of those big fics! I just need a break from the intensive work they require.

On to other matters. If you’ve read my other insanely long updates (if you have you’re a trooper) you’ll know I haven’t been having a great time for a long while. If not, check Part 1 or older Progress Updates for more info. Long story short, I’m completely worn out from endless months and months of bullshit. Even though its FINALLY quieted down now, I still need a break.

You might say, “But you’ve been on hiatus for months!” That was because I could never get a night without fist fights or drunk parties or literal death threats being screamed all hours. That hiatus was because I couldn’t focus, because I was in a stressful situation and had no real alternative.

Now I’m saying I need some mental health time, a break from scrambling between fics that went without updates or had half finished chapters as compensation for that utter nonsense, trying to catch up and failing to get back to normal because of it. I went straight from that atmosphere into rapidly trying to get everything back up to speed, never taking a breather and celebrating my freedom. I need to take a few steps back and gather myself, actually breathe easy without fears of drunk assholes trying to break in to people’s apartments, before I jump back into things.

Because of all that crap, I had to make do with putting out lazy and poorly constructed work. It made me feel like a shitty writer and that I was letting readers down. I can’t express how awesome people who stuck by patiently waiting for updates, understanding I wasn’t in a great place, really are. But not doing my best made me feel like I wasn’t meeting expectations of people who had been so nice. Yes it’s just fanfiction, maybe I’m getting dramatic, but still.

I’m so sick of putting out half-assed or incomplete chapters and fics. Rushing from one to another, scrambling to make updates that aren’t complete or as polished as I would like, leaving this trail of disappointment behind me. I look at what I’ve produced lately and I’m just so deeply unhappy with the quality. Most of that was the horrible situation I was in, but now it’s my haste, like I’m trying to do 5 things at once to catch up now that things are okay and none end up great. I appreciate dearly readers supporting me and being understanding all this time. But when you KNOW you can do better and aren’t meeting your own expectations it’s very frustrating. I take my writing, even if it IS only fanfiction, seriously. I feel a commitment to making the best chapters for people who enjoy what I do.

These big projects are so exhausting, so much work tweaking them just right. All the effort and time I spend has just worn me out. It’s gotten to the point that I’m starting to resent working on them, it feels like an obligation. I rush through stuff trying to make everyone happy and in the end my work suffers. It’s tough to make good stuff when it feels like a chore. And that’s never a good mentality to have when writing. I’m not doing my best work when it’s not fun.

Add to that the fact that my notes are an ABSOLUTE CLUSTER FUCKING MESS. Bits and pieces of stories saved in Google Docs, on my phone, and written in spirals, scattered everywhere. There are things for both Canine Boys and Bonds that I didn’t write down when I was breezing through work that I have now forgotten in my haste to churn out dwindling chapters and struggle with all the bullshit that had overwhelmed my life. That’s a big problem.

For example. In Canine Boys I know what I want to do with chapters 5 and 7, but my notes on 6 are paltry and I have since forgotten what I wanted to do. Problematic, even if it is just porn.

And there are pieces to the planned ending of Bonds that are hazy and difficult to remember because of the time that has passed, mental stress, and lack of organization. I need to get things in order first thing.

No joke, when I look at all my future plans and mess of notes, sometimes I get micro-panic attacks. Because there’s just SO MUCH to do, SO MUCH I need to plan and write, and oh god what did I forget this time, ugh I can’t figure out how to move on and do the next chapter, I can’t remember what good thing I planned for this and I’m disappointing my readers!!! ect. It’s truly overhauling sometimes. And it’s not pleasant or an effective way of writing. I need to get this mess sorted out, lay back and have some brainstorming to fix all those plot and continuity issues.

As if that wasn’t enough, my phone had loads of good things saved on it, ideas for both Bonds and Canine Boys that were GREAT and necessary to moving the stories forward. Well a few days ago it totally crapped out and I can’t access it. Losing the notes saved on my phone has left me pretty bummed. It’s like a knife in the heart. Because I had SO. MANY. GOOD. IDEAS. ON. THERE. And the thought of them just gone makes me just want to give up because I worry I won’t ever come up with something to match and replace all that was lost.

So yeah, I need to take a step away from these big works. All that being said, I’m not on hiatus anymore. More like semi-hiatus. I’m taking a break from “serious” writing, from these huge projects (all 4 current fics would count) and switching over to some smaller one shots in the meantime. I need time to recoup and rest and actually celebrate my newfound peace and quiet without deadlines. I want to work for a while with worrying about timely updates or letting readers down with quality issues. I’m going to take a breather, regain my confidence, organize my disaster notes, and come back strong, RATHER than keep limping along as I have been.

SO, once I make one more update to each of those 4 fics, I’ll be putting them off to the side for a while and focusing on simpler one shots. Hopefully people will check those out too, it’s still me and my style, just smaller (and a friend joked that I don’t do small projects. A one shot for me is like 10-20k words).

After these updates, which in all honesty won’t be my greatest work, not that I’ve been excelling for a while, I am DONE doing shoddy unfinished work. No more.

Once these chapters are out I’ll be shifting to one shots for a temporary cool down so I can gather my thoughts and organize my ideas. This should mean when I come back to these the quality is better, my inspiration is restarted, and I can get back on track writing fluidly instead of struggling.

I have no idea how long this period of smaller works could last. I would estimate anywhere between 3-9 months, since I want a more long term period of separation. Too much focus and worrying has made dealing with them tedious, I just don’t want to have to worry about them for a bit.

As you can see from teh Future Ideas section of my Masterlist I have LOOOTS of ideas. A good number of WIPs were recently inspired by my friend Ren and his beautiful, dirty mind. No I am not working on all those works in the Future Ideas at the same time, this is just a list of ideas that have popped into my head over time. Some may eventually be dropped if I can’t work them properly, but I do have a good chunk of progress already done on a number of those, while others have a few paragraphs written, and some are pretty much a premise and a few sentences.

Do not expect all those to be finished soon. This is a VERY VERY long term look at my plans. Like, over the few years or more probably, knowing how slow I write and how annoyingly perfectionist I am. I will likely shift priorities around between all these as new ideas inspire me or old fics require attention, but from now on I plan on trying to focus the bulk of my attention on 2 or 3 projects at once. Sort of like an assembly plant; one fic in pre-production, one in the process of being built, and one getting the final touches. That way I can churn things out more efficiently. I think that's a much better way to balance all my fics than rushing to and fro manically.

DO NOT WORRY! Just because I have all these future plans doesn’t mean I’m abandoning any of my current fics; Bonds that Never Break, Canine Boys, Dogs Keep it in the Family, and Journey of a Pokemon Breeder Boy will still get attention and I have plenty of thoughts, notes, and plans for those going forward. This list of fic ideas is just a glimpse into my thought process and future plans, in addition to somewhere I can keep readers updated with my priorities (I’ll make updates here as well).

I know what you’re probably thinking. “Oh great, more fics you won’t update on time.” Or “Perfect, the one I like is being pushed aside by this new stuff.” Remember this semi-hiatus is only temporary. Most of the ideas I have in mind are one shots. And they aren’t as intensive as my current works, they’re a much needed break so I can refocus and collect ideas for the major projects. I’m not abandoning ANYTHING, NONE of my fics are getting dropped. I’m just taking a more long term view of things so I can stay in shape.

I’m deeply sorry if some people don’t want to deal with that and jump ship, I completely understand your frustration. I fully expect to lose some readers, much as that pains me. But most importantly I need to do what’s right for me.

There’s a saying, “The candle that that burns twice as bright burns half as long.” I’m at that point. I don’t want to burn bright with a few good chapters and end up burning myself out before really finishing anything.

[ultrakeystotheheartblog]

Popstar Pipes (Dick Grayson x Reader)

Request: “Can you do an imagine with Dick from Young Justice singing Jesse McCartney songs?” - @nyntendoh44

Song: Better With You (Acoustic Version) - Jesse McCartney

A/N: A long one again, I hope you all enjoy! :) I apologize if there’s any grammar mistakes or if Dick seems out of character in any away (it’s been such a long time since I’ve watched Young Justice. I definitely need to re-watch before the new season starts lol). Also, the next imagine I’ll be working on will be a Starfire x Fem!Reader. Look for it soon!

Warning: swearing, and cheesy-cheesiness 

*********************************************************************************

Thirteen texts.

In counting.

And still nothing back.

You stare dejectedly at the open messenger of your phone, anxiously swinging one of your legs and tapping the toe of your boot against the sturdy oak siding of the bar. The wood is scuffed and aged, just like most of the furniture pieces and features that make this place feel kind of homey and lived-in and real. Like a little slice of domestic bliss that’s hard to find in the fast-pace of the outside world, a comforting haven dressed up as a small, semi popular bar near the centre of the city. 

There’s a cute juke box in the far right corner of the bar area, with peeling red paint and a minorly cracked plastic casing. A large, scratched up pool table in the far left that no one really seems to gravitate towards anymore—if the layer of dust settled in the green bed cloth is any indication. And a cluster of worn round tables and wicker chairs bordering the small raised platform at the very back. 

The platform itself lies beneath a row of remote controlled spotlights that flood the stage in hot, bright beams, bolted along one of the many heavy beams crisscrossing in a grid along the ceiling. The stage is tiled with flashing squares of multi-coloured lights that are reminiscent of a disco dance floor. An upgraded DJ booth sits just beyond it, and is evidently what most of the money seems to have gone towards. And for good reason you guess, as this place saw a lot of business for their involvement with anything music—be it local bands or starving singers, or more recently (and maybe hilariously) the open mic karaoke nights. 

It’s a nice place—rare in the city you live in—with an even rarer handful of pleasant staff and a good vibe that usually attracts good, friendly people. It’s probably why you and your friends like to come here so often to de-stress. Though right about now you think the warm environment is lost on you for the night, because you do not feel one bit de-stressed.

You’re one of the few people sitting there at the bar (the rest of the patrons already crowded in the seating area around the stage), perched on a cushioned, yellow bar stool with thin metal legs that creaked with any amount of shifting weight. It’s cooler there and quieter, a sweet couple sitting to your far left at the end of the bar. They’re swapping stories about their days, hands intertwined over the top of the bar, and there’s a much older man in his early 40’s just down a couple of seats from you. 

He’s unshaven and blinking rapidly through bloodshot eyes, already on his sixth drink of the night. He’s also clad in a stylish blue business suit that’s crumpled like he’s slept in it for days, obviously here to drown his sorrows in alcohol. Well, suit guy, look at you go.

You think you can surely understand him on a spiritual level.

On that note you frown and lock your phone, placing it face down before turning back to your own drink. You squeeze the cool glass between your fingers and take a rather large gulp from its contents. It’s still only your first one, so the burn as it hits the back of your throat is not numbed in any way by a drunken haze, and is still sort of painful when you swallow. But it’s good enough to take your mind off your own problems for a minute.

You peek at the couple again when the no-nonsense, heavily tattooed bartender passes in front of you to refill their drinks (taking a moment to throw you a sympathetic smile and playful wink over his shoulder on the way—thanks Joey, you’re kind of best friend material), feeling bored and sad enough to continue in your people watching. Both women are dressed in matching red and black motorcycle jackets that reminded you of something straight out from Grease, the emblem of a team or group (maybe a gang? There were a lot of those still operating in Blüdhaven lately, regardless of a certain bird’s frequent visits) stitched in white across their backs. God, you wish that were you.

And by that, you meant enjoying those cheesy, delicious nachos sitting between them. Because it seems that your ‘date’ for tonight—this definitely isn't a date though, just two friends hanging out after a stress-filled week of work that literally (metaphorically) burned out a piece of your deadening soul, just two pals out for a casual drink in a casual bar with a causal amount of anxiety (okay, an abnormal amount of anxiety because you were having some really weird, certain feelings about this friend lately, but that was nothing to really worry about, right?). Besides it’s not like anything is going to happen tonight…because he isn’t even here to see you potentially embarrass yourself like the walking disaster you are—has decided that 8:00pm was more like a suggestion, than the actual meeting time you’d both put effort into setting up like responsible adults (ha! what a fucking lie). And here you were at 8:45pm, planning the best way to throttle one of your best friends in this whole stupid world with only your bare hands.

You seemed to be resorting to that plan a lot today, but that’s just because people suck and you want to live like a hermit in your bedroom until you get old and wrinkly and eventually die covered in something both tasty and respectable—like chocolate. Was that a little too weird? Probably. Are you going to take back any of what you just conjured up in a moment of frustrated self-reflection? Nope, you decide that you’re committed to that vision, as long as you don’t have to deal with how shitty the world was becoming anymore. Or staying…it’s been pretty shitty for a while. And does that make you a coward? You don’t like to answer that question. 

But you can’t help but admit that part of you is worried too. Worried if he got sucked into dealing with more vigilante stuff, or team stuff, or bleeding out in an alley somewhere alone stuff, and just lost track of time. All three have happened before. You tap the screen of your phone again and sigh in defeat when you see there are still no messages from him.

And then you very nearly lose what’s left of your crap when two hands clap over your eyes from behind and eclipse you into semi darkness. You tense, spine locked straight as you shoot up in your seat and are unceremoniously ripped from your depressing musings, gripping the edge of the bar so hard it hurts your knuckles. You have to learn how to be more aware of your surroundings, because holy shit you can only take so many heart attacks during your young life. 

There are lips at your ear, minty fresh breath soft against your skin as the person chuckles, the sound comforting and warm and familiar in a way that has no issue bringing peace to the drowning, dark places in your mind. And as damningly cliché as it can get, the world just seems to fall away into the background—the sounds of clinking drinks, the clunk of cheap shot glasses striking wooden tables, crappy pop music, boisterous, annoying loud-talking and off-key singing from the group of bachelors partying it up on that open mic, and the laughing couple still sharing that damn plate of nachos they’d ordered over an hour ago, all becoming this muffled sort of white noise in your ears.

You can only focus on the feel of his hands, roughened and calloused from his work as a hero, but you can feel the strength in them too. A strength that always makes you feel protected and insanely wired in the best possible way, a heat pooling into your abdomen that you can never quite discern as one thing or another. All you know is that it makes you truly alive. And maybe a bit annoyed, especially when the owner of said hands is almost an hour late. 

Prickling irritation makes your chest grow tight, and you take a steadying breath in, immediately inhaling the muddled scent of his sharp cologne and a clean, citrusy body wash that makes you feel blissfully dizzy. But only for a moment.

"Guess who?" He whispers with a ridiculous amount of charm seeping into his voice (looks like someone knows they’re in trouble and is now trying to get on your good side), the front of his body pressed up against your back. So close, that if you weren’t just a little ticked, you’d have probably leant back against his chest to seek out some semblance of comfort—like you always do when around him—especially when thinking about what you’d had to go through during your work week. So, you settle for being a little petty instead. 

The night is still young after all. 

You reach up to touch the back of his hands, slouching back down in your seat a little. "Hmm let me see—sweaty, calloused hands and the smooth timbre of a teen popstar. It could only be my dork of a birdbrain."

He snorts in laughter and his arms drop like dead weight to his sides, moving to your left side to lean against the bar. His eyebrow lifts in amusement as he stares at you. "Ouch. Just going straight for the throat tonight, huh?"

You blink at the sudden return of light filling your vision, sliding around on the bar stool to face him with a pointed, narrow-eyed gaze. “Would you rather me go for something else?”  

Dick Grayson ever rarely, and so outwardly, reacts when it comes to threats of his own well being (though if it were ever turned on the people he cares about…than that’s a whole other room you don’t want to spend time unpacking right now)—a testament to his time raised and trained by the scarily stoic, and maybe slightly emotionally constipated, father figure (THE freaking Batman you’d come to learn recently, and kind of wished you hadn’t, because that’s super intimidating) and then his time spent as a highly-skilled vigilante hero—and this time was definitely no different. 

But you’d gotten good at reading him over the years without much to go on, almost just as well as he can read you, because you can see the flicker of something akin to concern in his gaze—but for you or his situation, well, it’s kind of hard to truly distinguish with how fast it comes and then melts away into uncertainty—and then he’s slowly moving to cover his crotch with a one hand. He never breaks eye contact with you, awkwardly clearing his throat in a way that tells you he’s now a little nervous.

“Not that I don’t appreciate our playful banter, but that one, uh, seemed a little hostile.” He observes with a furrowed brow. You choke back another mouthful of your drink, eyes shifting to admire the high, open shelved liquor cabinets that line the wall behind the bar. The shiny different colors of glass and alcohol give you something else to focus on for the moment, while you steel yourself for the night ahead.

Or maybe you should just head home.

“Did it?” You ask casually, unable to keep the bitter edge out of your tone. You can feel Dick’s burning eyes on you, and know that he’s already analyzing your emotional state with his well-versed detective skills.

“What’s up, (Y/N/N)?” He begins quietly, “You know you can talk to me about anything.”

The concern is back in that searching gaze of his when you turn to look at him, his eyes so honestly earnest and deeply worried and beautifully blue as he leans towards you—goddamnit how can a person even have eyes like that, it’s unfair—that you not only lose your breath for a second, but the entirety of your precariously constructed iron will. So, now it’s also unfair how fast you find yourself forgiving him for his appalling tardiness, just leaving you happy that he’s finally here now.

The things you go through for this man.

You sigh and deflate, leaning the rest of the way into him to press your check against his shoulder. The fabric of his dark blue jacket is smooth and cool against your skin.

"I know, Dick, I--It’s just…been one of those days. I’m sorry."

Dick drops his chin to the top of your head, releasing a shuddering breath that tells you he’s just as exhausted as you are. "I know what you mean. But I'll have you know that I was just trying to be adorable."

"You don't have to try." You say with a laugh, almost tipping right off the bar stool when he abruptly pulls back from your body to flash you a cheeky grin. You roll your eyes at him, "I mean you don't have to try so hard around me.”

“Oh?”

Dick reaches behind you for your drink. He brings it up to his lips, watching you over the rim as he takes a long sip. You poke his chest with a teasing smile, coyly arching a brow in challenge.

“No matter what you do or say for the rest of your life, I'm always going to see that tiny 13 year old boy who not once, but twice, answered the door to the manor half asleep, humming some old ABBA song, and wearing nothing but those majestic little black and blue Batman ‘undies. You know…the ones with the glittery gold bat signals on the butt?"

Dick definitely remembers.

He sputters instantly, a clear, resounding yes, choking on the burning liquid with a grimace. His reaction makes you laugh harder than ever before (yeah, you’re definitely not going home yet, you kind of really needed this). Dick swallows a desirable amount of air into his lungs in one gasping breath, quickly depositing your drink back onto the bar. He playfully narrows his eyes at you, reaching out to firmly clamp his hand over your mouth when you go to say something else. You’re sure he can feel the undeniable way your lips curl into a triumphant smirk underneath the skin of his palm.

“You said you’d never bring that up ever again.”

You reach up to grip his wrist, drawing the offending hand away from your mouth so you can speak. “I lied.” You counter, humming in amusement as you recall the hilarious image of a very mortified boy wonder making a dash for the manor’s grand staircase—bat signals sparkling under the lights of the hall. Ah, the memories. 

“By the way, do you still have those?”

“No.”

“Shame.”

Dick straightens, sets his hands on his hips, and smirks, staring down at you thoughtfully. His eyes dart to look out over the crowd still gathered around the stage, and then at the people lingering closer to the bar, gears turning behind his gaze when he catches sight of Joey rinsing out empty beer glasses at the bar’s sink. "Hmmm I guess I'll have to try harder then." He says a little too casually for your liking.

And with that you suddenly feel something horrible creeping up over the horizon, the changing winds of which it wrought bringing a chill so foreboding in its wake. Meaning he was irrefutably planning…well, something, and you were screwed (trapped by social convention and the sacred promises of ride-and-die friendship law to participate in whatever it was, curse it all). But there was also no way you were letting that smug face win tonight without some sort of fight. So you simply stare him down as well.

"Do your worst, Fingerstripes." 

"I will."

You scoff and pick up your nearly-empty glass again, "Then I'm really going to need to finish this drink first."

"Nope." He merely says, plucking the glass right back out of your hands despite your protests, and then he’s moving it to sit behind him—despairingly far from your reach. You pout at him like the sophisticated young adult you are.

"No?" You question unhappily.

"We're going to do something else first."

He lifts his hand to get Joey’s attention, the bartender sauntering over within a moment to warmly greet another one of his favourite regulars. Dick claps both hands over your ears then and leans in over the bar top to speak quietly to him, ignoring the way you squirm and curl your fingers under his palms to try and wrench them away from your head. But his hold is strong and your attempts are fruitless. Joey only nods once Dick finally finishes and releases your head, grinning at you mischievously from behind the bar.

You eye the both of them suspiciously, "I don't like that look in your eyes, Grayson."

Dick’s smile is nothing but charming as he pulls you to your feet, “It’ll be good, I promise. Besides…you need to loosen up.”

“I am loose—wow that came out wrong.” You wince, already knowing Dick’s mind went straight to the worst place imaginable with that little slip up, especially when you hear him snort in laughter. What a dirty boy.  “Hey! Don’t you dare start laughing at me, you asshole, I didn’t mean—stop it. Dick!” You whine, and your friend only laughs louder.

“Was that a Freudian slip?”

“You’re a Freudian slip!”  You retort without any real malice, shoving at his shoulder in embarrassment. “Ugh, that’s it, I’m out. I’m still too sober for this.”

His sets his hands on your shoulders when you go to turn away, keeping you still and somehow managing to sooth you considerably, thumbs rubbing gentle, tiny circles into the dips between your collarbones. “My point remains. You’re stressed. I’m stressed. We can release that stress together.”

You squint at him in disbelief, “For the sake of our fucking friendship, I am maintaining that I heard absolutely nothing come out of your mouth within the last 10 seconds.” You pause, smirking and tilting your head in mock curiosity. “But I do have to know one very important thing before we move on with our lives....did Wally teach you that line?”    

He rolls his eyes, and doesn’t answer the question. 

Oh my god, Dick. 

“Come on, get traught and follow me.” He practically sings. And now that should have been your first clue. He takes your hand and starts dragging you through the crowd around the stage, circling around tables and weaving in between groups of people in such a roundabout path, that it throws you off any possible trail of where he might be leading you.

“Where are we going?”

“Need to know basis.”

“I need to know.”

“Just wait a second.”  

And then you realize exactly what he’s planned when you both tumble out of the crowd and come face to face with a nightmare just waiting to happen. You stare at the now empty, mocking stage with wide eyes, gaze zeroing in on the lone mic stand. The silver metal glints under a circle of white light and you yank your hand free from Dick’s grip in a bout of panic. Fucking NO.

“Dick—”

“It’ll be good, I promise.”

You might just stomp your foot a little, “No, absolutely not, there is no way in demon-shitting hell I am getting up on that stage. You’ll have to drag me kicking and screaming.” You threaten seriously, taking a few steps back.

“Oh, come on, it’s not going to be that ba—”

“I’d rather die.”

Dick sighs, running a hand through his hair. He reaches out to take your hand again—his touch never failing to calm you—and squeezes it in reassurance. And then he’s drawing you back towards him, his smile soft and kind and all sorts of crazy attractive. You let him throw his arm around your shoulders, and he leans in to mutter. “Dramatics aside, how about we make a deal.”

It’s a trap and you know it. But the fondness and playful determination in his eyes intrigues you enough to throw caution to the wind.

“What kind of deal?” You ask slowly, brows furrowed as you gauge his expression.

Dick gestures to the stage with a flourish of his hand, “I get up there first, and, uh, hmm—averagely bring the house down with my sweet, teen popstar voice—” You heave an exasperated sigh at that, and Dick begins to guide you towards an open seat near the front, continuing his proposal eagerly. “—and then you go up there and smoke me.”

“You know I’m not a very good singer, Dick.” You remind him, refusing to sit just yet as you maul over his words. He waves away your worries, increasing pressure on your shoulders until your lowering your body into the heavy wicker chair.

“That doesn’t matter. You’ll still be amazing, and more importantly it’ll be fun. Now, sit.”

“I’m not a dog.” You scoff, glaring up at him as you slump back and cross your arms.

“Oh, I know, you definitely don’t have to tell me that. I’ve already decided a long time ago that you’re more like a whining, middle school child.”

“Says the edgy, bird-themed child.”

Dick leans down awful close, hands gripping the arms of the chair so that you’re caged in and can’t make any last minute escapes. “I love how you get me.” He quips in answer.

“I’m going to regret this.” You groan, a hand pressed to your forehead in frustration. Damn him and his damn smile. “Fine, go, get on with it.” You relent.

“You’re going to love it.”

“And you’re going to have to convince me.”

“Challenge accepted.” He declares smugly.

With that, Dick shrugs out of his jacket to uncover the plain gray tee underneath, the hem of which is smoothly tucked into his jeans. He tosses it to you as he turns and bounces up the three steps to get onto the stage, striding towards the mic with purpose. You grumble as your bunch the jacket in your lap, fingers tangling in the fabric to ground yourself from the creeping nervousness you feel. 

He slips the mic from the stand and steps a few feet to the edge of the platform, a single spotlight following him as he brings the mic up to his mouth. His voice resonates through the room, strong and enthusiastic. He’s ready to put on a show, and you’re just about ready to sink into the floor and disappear from this situation altogether.

“Hello, everyone! I think I’m going to—” He gestures to someone at the back of the crowd (you have a sneaking suspicion that Joey is now playing his part in all of this and—yeah, there he was, tapping away at the tiny square remote clenched in his fist as he makes a beeline towards the DJ booth and the young goth-inspired girl seated behind it) and the main lights in the bar immediately dim. 

Dick’s surely gotten everyone’s attention now. 

People quiet as they turn to watch him, and he sweeps his gaze across them as though deciding on how to properly entertain. “—slow it down a little now if you don’t mind,” Dick continues unhurriedly. “I have to admit...I don’t usually do this kind of thing very often, but as it turns out, I was double-dog dared to get up here—” (what a little shit) “—and sing a song for you all tonight. And I’m never one to back down from a challenge. That being said, I’d like to dedicate this little number to someone special—right here in this very audience. (Y/N)? Can you see me? No? That was a no, folks. Can I get a light down there? Yes—a little, yes! Right there. Perfect, perfect. Can you see me now?”

You blink quickly in the sudden harsh light washing down upon you, a second spotlight now trained on you intently. You glare up at him, “Unfortunately.”

There are laughs from the people around you, and Dick—all show-business now—sends you a teasing wink. “And you tell me to stop flirting.”

You try and glare harder at him, but you don’t think its working. He seems to understand all the same though, throwing up a hand in mock defense. “Okay, okay, I’m going.”

The pretty guitar of an acoustic song fills the silence right on cue.

And then he opens his mouth to sing.

I know it's ugly turning on the news There's people fighting over point of view Sometimes it's like there's nothing left to lose And I don't know what to do But I know it's better with you

Dick moves to sit on the top step of the stage as he continues, refusing to break eye contact with you for even a second. And, huh, you’re not sure why your heart is trying to escape from your chest all of sudden.

I was a wreck when you came along When there was nothing left You showed me the best I'm still a mess but you hold on Don't know just why you do But I know I'm better with you

But I know I'm better with you But I know I'm better with you But I know I'm better with you

Okay, you were not expecting to feel this way—dizzy and confused and slightly embarrassed—or for him to stare at you as intently as the spotlight on you both. But you find yourself liking it regardless of your feelings on the situation—just entirely awed at the talent of your friend. You knew he could sing, sure, but damn, it never fails to surprise you.

And make you smile.

For every laugh there is a silent cry For every day there is a darker night Sometimes this life doesn't treat us right And I don't know what to do But I know it's better with you

He rises to his feet with something like fire in his eyes, drawn with an invisible string down the remaining steps and short distance to where you sit, and you wonder why this all seems so personal all of a sudden—like he’s earnestly trying to say something and nothing all at once. You follow his movement with a confused tilt of your head.

I was a wreck when you came along When there was nothing left You showed me the best I'm still a mess but you hold on Don't know just why you do But I know I'm better with you

But I know I'm better with you But I know I'm better with you But I know I'm better with you

There’s a brief interlude in the song, guitar ringing pleasantly in your ears.

It’s just as Dick reaches you—but he doesn’t stop moving—climbing up onto the table you’re closest to with a grace that you’ve only seen in action a handful times. The people around it scatter much to your amusement, pushing their chairs back to give him more room, and he lowers himself to sit at the edge facing you, legs hanging off to freely swing. What a dramatic dork, you think fondly.  He hunches over to take one arm of your chair, tugging you around to better see him and then closer still to where he’s now perched. The spotlights follow you both closely, various gasps from the crowd making your face burn hot.

Wherever you are, it's never as dark Whenever I start slipping, you make all the difference Been there from the start, no matter how hard Whatever piece is missing, you know how to fix it

I was a wreck when you came along When there was nothing left You showed me the best I'm still a mess but you hold on Don't know just why you do But I know I'm better with you

But I know I'm better with you But I know I'm better with you But I know I'm better with you

The music finishes and fades out into another moment of silence, the bar eerily quiet as people watch on in anticipation for…something to happen. But nothing does. Well, besides you staring at him, too afraid to say anything and break the spell that’s shrouded the two of you in a peaceful sort of daze. For that moment, you think you can see it—a dance of muddled emotions in his expression that tells you he feels it to, that ever present connection that runs deep in your bones, and now he’s trying to make sense of it. Just like you’ve been attempting to do for days. 

And then the corners of his lips lift up into that beautiful, kind smile that squeezes your heart, any knots of tenseness in the atmosphere unwinding into the familiar reality of the bar, and he’s pulling the mic away from his mouth with a grin so boyish and blissful it makes your toes curl in your boots. Okay, so, evidently those ‘certain’ feelings you’d been hesitantly circling around for weeks like a frightened, wild animal are still as strong as ever. And you can’t help but hope that this soft, new affectionate glint in his eyes reveals a hidden truth—that this particular moment means something more to him too. 

The main bar lights get brighter again, the spotlights sliding back to train on the stage instead of on the pair of you. He leans towards you from his spot on the table, so only you can hear what he says next through the light applause that picks up around the room—once people realize that the show is indeed over.

“So, was I able to convince you?” He questions still smiling, swinging his legs on either side of you as he waits expectantly for your answer. You take a deep breath, slipping right back into easy banter when you crack a smile of your own.

“You’ve intrigued me.”

Dick nods with a chuckle that envelopes you in warmth, tapping the mic gently against your nose. “Mmmm good—because now it’s your turn.”

You freeze.

“Ah, crap.”

[tragedybunny]

The Blade’s Edge - A League of Legends Fanfiction - Chapter 4

They had a simple arrangement. She was the weapon to be used on his enemies. Things get more complicated when emotions bleed into what should simple. Now the two of them find themselves on the precipice of something that was entirely unexpected. Katarina/Swain

General Argos steps aside as the two leaders greet one another. There’s wariness in her features but it softens slightly after a moment. They’re speaking too lowly to be heard, but as her stance relaxes a bit the mood spreads to those around her.

A pavilion had been erected to serve as a meeting space less intimidating than entering the Keep itself. In a moment they’re headed towards it, two of her warriors flanking her on either side. Formality melts away and slowly our two factions begin cautiously interacting. I suppose I should get to work.

A young man stands off to the side of a larger group; handsome face, not far into manhood, and looking unsure and out of place. I consider it and catch his eye, but decided against it. I hate seduction games and my last foray into that most assuredly did not go my way. Then I spot her, not far off, a little deeper in the crowd. Similar dress to the young man, a little more involved with those around, but still seeming apart. They likely came from the same tribe that was absorbed into the Avarosans.

I make my way towards her from behind, turn slightly to my side and walk into her. “Oh my apologies, I wasn’t looking.

She’s less than friendly. “Feh Southerners, does the cold make it hard for you people to think.” But she speaks common, so good enough.

“So sorry, again, it’s just so overwhelming, all these people, all the important visitors.” I make a sweeping gesture and gawk about trying to sell my naivete.

She spits on the ground. “All I see are Noxians trying to get Frejlord to bend the knee, as usual.”

“Well, that is what they tend to do. I know that first hand.” I shuffle my feet a bit and stare at the ground.

“That so? How’d you end up in a Noxian camp?” She’s skeptical but there’s sympathy there as well. Good.

“I was forced into servitude when my family was ruined.” That’s got enough truth in it. “All thanks to him.” I shoot a look over to the pavilion and instantly forget what I was saying. He’s hovering exceptionally close to the young Warmother, closer than he has any real reason to be, granting her the smallest ghost of a smile. I feel my blood begin to boil and take a deep breath to force it down.

She notices but thankfully says nothing, perhaps attributing it to my fictional past. “Ashe won’t bend though, and neither will any of us. Not even if the whole might of Noxus makes its way north.”

“So you say. But I’ve heard the Empire is looking for allies, not conquests here.” I watch her face, waiting the see what she feels. She furrows her brows and looks away. She knows that already. “You should stay out of business that doesn’t concern you.”

“Lorna, you’re so unfriendly.” The young man from earlier saunters over. “Don’t mind her my dear, she’s afraid you’ve all come to corrupt our way of life.” So much confidence, maybe I can deal with him after all.

“Oh, is that so?” I smile and look up at him through my eyelashes.

“I don’t care what all of you say, we don’t need the help or friendship of Noxus.” She stalks off leaving me with the boy making eyes at me. I glance over at the pavilion and he’s somehow even closer to her, gesturing at something on the table in front of them, ensuring they occasionally brush against one another. Godsdamn him, of course diplomacy with a pretty young thing involves him trying to bed her. I’m not a naive child, I know that there are others. This is the first time I’ve had to watch it play out though and it dredges back up that raw stinging emotion from this morning.

I focus on what I’m supposed to be doing and turn back to the young man. “So you don’t mind us southerners?” I try to keep my voice soft and sweet.

“Of course, we need friends, haven’t got many.” I try to listen as he continues on but it feels peculiarly like the tip of a knife is digging into my chest.

There’s a bit of a stir in the crowd as she comes out of the pavilion and someone sets up a target. He follows soon after, gesturing to the bow on her back. For the moment rational thought vanishes, I need to know what’s said between them.  “I’d like to see this.” I drag my new companion along and get as close to them as possible.

He settles next to me, still happily chatting. “Wait until you this!”

She draws the ice bow from her back, an arrow of sparkling ice appearing from out of the air, and she fires. The arrow flies swift, striking the target true, frost sprouting from it. She does the same with another arrow, and then yet another. All of them striking the target perfectly, enveloping it in a crystalline shell. Her people whoop and cheer. “Spectacular. You are as masterful as they said.” I know that tone of his too well. He glances about drawing her attention to the crowd. “There are many ears and eyes about. I wonder if you would be amenable to moving our conversation somewhere a bit more private?” I clench my fists hard enough that if I wasn’t wearing gloves my nails would draw blood.

“No, I have no secrets from my people.” I wonder if she caught on.

“Very well.” There’s a subtle note to his voice, he hides it well enough from everyone else, but I can tell he’s annoyed. At least I won’t have to spend the night listening to him fuck some barbarian.

As they turn and make their way back to the pavilion the boy starts to speak again. Thankfully one of the Officers approaches and slips a note into my hand. “You have duties to see to.”

The boy next to me visibly deflates. “Well it was fun while it lasted.”

I make a noncommittal noise and leave him staring after me as I make my way out of the crowd. Once I’m far from prying eyes I open the note: “Our new friend has left a significant number of her forces to the west. He asks that you go and observe them and report back”

We have scouts for this. He knows that and he knows this is insulting. He drags me all the way up here for this! I’m going to stab him in his sleep, I swear.

I shove back through the crowds and head inside to my room to collect my daggers. Might as well get this over with as quickly as possible. A moment later a young soldier is at the door with a supply pack, I snatch it out of his hands and dismiss him with a gesture. I take the side entrance and slip around to the back of the Keep. The small gate there is only large enough for one person to cross through. The guards admit me with no questions. It swings open to reveal an icy nightmare.

West, that’s all the direction I have, west and a horde of barbarians somewhere. I pull up the hood of heavy coat, making sure all my hair is tucked inside. I give the fort a wide berth and keep my senses alert for scouts. The landscape is peppered with ridges from the rise to the mountains behind me. They make concealment easy and the Winter’s Claw is known to move through this region. Clusters of pines grow sporadically here and there, clinging to life where they can.

A fine light powder begins to fall from the sky, perfect. I can’t imagine her tribe would be too far from her. If I move quickly I might be able to do this before a real storm kicks up. I’d prefer not to get stranded out here and freeze to death. There are better ways to go.

It hasn’t even reached midday yet. I trudge on for a few hours, ears straining in relative silence, the snow coming and going. I feel the cold start seeping into my skin, my fingers don’t feel as sharp as they could. And in the barrenness and quiet, I find myself with nothing to do but think as I walk.

I relive last night several times, the strange soft moments between us, the feeling of him next to me as I drifted off. I chide myself when I feel my heart beat a little faster. That line of thinking is nothing but folly. I’m a tool for him to use and nothing more, as he proved this morning. Last night was a product of exhaustion. And yet when I think of him and that girl back at the fort, the anger is fresh and burning.

The sun has travelled a lot further than I would have liked. Darkness comes early up here. I pause for a moment, scanning the horizon, and then I hear it, the howl of wolves in the distance. As if I didn’t have enough to contend with out here already.

There in the distance though, a small plume of smoke from behind a large ridge. I keep to the shadows of smaller ridges and trees as I approach. It looms before me, full of rocky outcroppings and scrub pines. The climb to the summit is risky, but the vantage point will give me full view of those beyond it and get this ridiculous errand over with. I find a handhold in the craggy surface and begin my ascent. The going is painfully slow and I pick and choose carefully where to go next, the fine powder now falling a bit more quickly.

Each movement is perilous, one hand then one foot. Halfway up I stop at a larger ledge to catch my breath and stretch my hands, hoping the sharp cramps subside. I exhale and watch my frozen breath drift away from me.

I keep going, feeling the burn in my muscles, and the sting of the cold. Finally one last hoist and I’m at the top. The view momentarily takes my breath away. An actual forest to the east stretches for miles. The setting sun glints off the endless whiteness to the west. I almost wish I had more time to take it in. And of course there’s the reason I’m here, slightly to the north, the encampment. They’re close enough to get a rough observation

I keep myself low and hidden. I could try to get closer, but night is coming. I can tell from here though that the girl is right to be afraid. It’s a fair fighting force and they could elude the army for awhile in this landscape. If they were caught in the open like this though, they’d be crushed in no time.I stay a bit longer, watching them, making little notes in my mind, before deciding I’ve seen enough. It may not be as much as he wanted but he sent me instead of a scout so he gets to deal with my decisions.

The trip back down the ridge is predictably slow as I test each foot hold before putting my weight down. The sun is now nearly gone behind the horizon. I stay even longer at the large ledge, every muscle in my body now blazing with pain. By the time I hit the ground night has truly fallen.

I start my way back with much more haste, no longer encumbered by searching for signs of life. But I do hear something, the howl of wolves once again. I can feel the temperature dropping with every step I take. The snow at least had tapered off, the clouds clearing from the sky, allowing the moonlight illuminate my path. Finally as even my mind seems to grow numb with the cold I realize I’m getting close.

Something moves in the corner of my eye. I reach for a dagger, my grip suffering in the cold. The first wolf, larger than any I’d seen before, rushes from the right. It moves at an almost unnatural speed, a blur of grey.  I leap into the air over it, bringing the dagger down towards its spine. I make contact and the beast yelps, but between the numbness and its flailing, I’m thrown to the side. It goes down, I can’t tell if I managed to kill it.  

I hear the second one rushing toward me. I struggle to rise in the loose powder around me and it leaps. I bring another dagger up as it lands on me, driving me back to the ground. Its teeth snap for my throat, hot drool dripping from its fangs. searching for the kill, as I use the dagger to keep it at bay. I feel a stinging sensation as it grazes my neck, a warm trickle of blood runs down my skin. I push it back, the dagger tearing through my glove and biting into my palm. It scrabbles a bit, unprepared for a fight with its prey.  I twist my wrist quickly and slash, opening its throat as I throw it off me.

The first is back up on unsteady legs and attempting to charge again. It’s slowed by the wound and I make it to my feet and leap out its path before it can react. I come down to the side of the beast anticipating its path. With only seconds to finish it off I let the dagger fly and it buries itself deep in the creature’s flank. With a final yelp it falls.

I take a moment to catch my breath before retrieving my knives. I wipe the blood off in the snow and secure them back in place.  I push on, the adrenaline dying away, leaving me cold, fatigued, and colossally irritated at this whole endeavor. Finally the walls of the fort rise up before me and I make my way toward the gate, imagining the relief of crawling into bed and blissfully passing out.

[queenklu]

So You Think You Can Dragon pt15: THE END

Part 1&2 | Part 14

I can’t believe we’ve made it. 

Int. Night Before the Battle:

Morrigan: What if I told you there’s a way to make sure the demon dies and it doesn’t kill you or Alistaire or Cannonfodder McDeadsoon (the third grey warden he doesn’t even go here)? 

Magnus: Heck yeah, sign me up! 

Morrigan: Fantastic, all you’ve gotta do is bang me.

Magnus: 

Morrigan: It’s genuinely no big deal, we’ll just conceive a child and then the demon when it’s looking for a host will jump into this infinitessimally small not even barely a cluster of cells 

Magnus: and then....you miscarry right and it’s dead that....way.......? 

Me: I can’t believe this game is sort of endorsing abortion but o--

Morrigan: Oh no the baby will be fine and grow up big and strong and definitely probably not evil? probably? 

Me: What in the FUCK is HAPPENING

Magnus: Okay but I feel like we’re glossing over the fact that I’m REAL GAY

Morrigan: does Zevran want you to DIE TOMORROW or bang one chick tonight? ;)

Magnus: I think we both know the answer to that but I still wish this game gave me the option to ASK

I let Morrigan know this is a garbage decision and I don’t want to do it, and she says the only other option is if she bangs ALISTAIRE. JFC. HEIR TO THE THRONE, DUMB AS A LABRADOR AND TWICE AS LOYAL, A L I S T A I R E

Magnus: Uhhh buddy? do you....wanttobangmorrigan?

Alistaire: da fuq

Magnus: you’rerightpretendineversaidanythingnevermindbye

Alistaire: Thank GOD you were joking HAHAHAHA

Me: oh my god what the FUCK do I do I AM NOT READY TO BE A FATHER

So. In the most cringe worthy bullshit thing I ever had to do in this whackado video game....for the good of THE WORLD.....I.........slept *gag* with Morrigan.

“that sure is the face of a guy who isn’t being coerced into sex” -- no one

I....just............Dragon Age why

Note: I did almost do all this bullshit for nothing bc some guy was all “Who do you want to bring with you on the last boss battle?” and i’m like “WYNNE” bc I figure we’ll need healing Real Bad and then Morrigan’s like “All that for nothing?? Well I’m gonna LEAVE THIS BATTLE RIGHT NOW” and i had to go back a save point -.-

Oh. You Know What Else I Found Out. In The Last Battle. 

I HAVE BEEN DELETING SKILLS TO FIT THE MOST IMPORTANT ONES THE WHOLE!!! TIME!!!!!!!!! I THOUGHT!!!! WE HAD FINITE!!!! SLOTS!!!!!!! AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

“This is fine.” - Magnus

It only took me losing the first fight several times to realize there was a little box in the corner where I could call for help from the dwarves/men/elves who’d promised to help. Also with Morrigan’s lightning storm spell taking out all of the darkspawn grunts who walk into it and immediately die, so. Morrigan WAS good to have in the fight. 

AND ALSO the last battle had BASICALLY CANNONS and the dragon mostly held still and just got...shot. But not before chomping Grey Warden Cannonfodder McDeadsoon. 

I’m...honestly I’m just assuming the spirit thing worked and the demon jumped into Morrigan’s microscopic baby??? The graphics were real unclear. She also super bounced as soon as the fighting was done. 

And then...it was over. 

Alistaire offered me anything in his power, which was nice, but also not the bi-curious makeout session Magnus was hoping for. Wynne’s gonna stay behind and help him be king, which is GOOD, boy needs all the help he can get. Leliana’s off to fake!France, Sten is back to his homeland, asshole dwarf is going to drink himself to an early grave, and Zevran...

FLASHBACK TO THE BATTLE: 

Zevran: So...you’re not taking me with you? 

Magnus: I’ve got three slots, two of which have to be Morrigan and Alistaire, the other one has to be a tank, babe, and I think we can all agree that ain’t you

Zevran: True. Still, I would have fought with you...to the end. 

Magnus: Hey Zevran? I love you.

Zevran: [A DIRECT QUOTE] “Ah. Cruel to the end.” *moonwalks off to fight*

Me/Magnus: ....why 

END FLASHBACK / PRESENT DAY: 

Zevran: I’m probably going to get killed by Crows one day, even though we killed everyone who knew about me deserting, so I should probably move around a lot to keep that from happening

Magnus: ...kay

Zevran: But you’re going to stay here, right?

Magnus: Not without you.

Zevran: Then we stay. And we fight anyone who comes at us together, yes?

Magnus: *with heart-shaped tears dripping from his eyes* y-yeah *sniffle* 

What’s his name, Magnus’s brother who’s wife and kid got slain at the start of the game: Hey bro

Magnus: Who in the fuck are you

CREDITS ROLL:

AND LO, THE KINGDOM WAS MOSTLY OKAY. THE DWARVES WERE STILL MORONS WITH A BROKEN SYSTEM OF GOVERNMENT THAT CRUMPLED IMMEDIATELY AFTER THE NEW KING DIED. BUT THINGS GOT NICER FOR THE ELVES IN TOWN, AND ALSO KIND OF FOR THE WOOD ELVES BUT A LITTLE BIT LESS. ALISTAIRE WAS A GOOD KING, WHICH SURPRISED EVERYONE. MORRIGAN WAS NEVER SEEN AGAIN (OR WAS SHE) AND SHE WAS MAYBE PREGNANT (WHO SPIED ON US). UHHHH NOBODY ELSE GOT MENTIONED. I BET THEY DIDN’T WANT TO TELL ME THAT ZEVRAN AND I DIDN’T WORK OUT IN THE LONG RUN. LOOK I KNOW HE’S WILD AND FREE AND ALSO NEEDS ALL THE THERAPY. OH AND I GUESS THE CIRCLE’S DOING OKAY. DAGMA THE DWARF GOT A SHOUTOUT BUT NOT STEN OR LELIANA. HISTORY FORGOT ABOUT THEM I GUESS. THAT’S BULLSHIT. ANYWAY. I WOULD LIKE TO THANK THE ACADEMY, AND ALSO MY DASH FOR PUTTING UP WITH THESE RAMBLING RECAPS OF A DECADE-OLD VIDEO GAME. I’D LIKE TO PLAY THE NEXT ONE NOW THAT I’M AN ~EXPERT.~ AND I GUESS SINCE THE GAME DIDN’T GIVE ME MUCH OF AN ENDING I’LL GIVE MAGNUS ONE MYSELF: HE LIVED A GOOD LONG LIFE, LONGER THAN ANYONE EXPECTED, AND WHEN HE AND ZEVRAN LOVINGLY PARTED WAYS HE FOUND A GOOD OL’ BOY WITH WAY LESS BAGGAGE AND LIVED HAPPILY EVER AFTER, AND ONE TIME ALISTAIRE GOT DRUNK AND SMOOCHED HIM AND GOT ALL BLUSHY AFTERWARD BUT DECIDED THEY’D BE BETTER AS FRIENDS. 

THE

END

[a-day-at-once]

January entries #21 to #31

#21

21/01

Hello, diary. I'm sorry this time I took so much of you, I'll be fast. Today at work, Leo and I talked abou KSV, and watched some of the manga's pages. As usual with magical girls mangas, it's a bit... Darker, than what TV's adaptation shows. Well, looks like Leo didn't knew that. Today's sticky note was a doodle of us watching Sakura, so I drew us cosplaying. When the shift finished, I headed back home and feeded Ember. Watching those pages made me remember my first motivations to draw. Inspired me, somehow. So I took you and went to the canal, were we still are.

Do you remember weeks ago, when I told you about journals? How 'diary' suited you better, because people took their journals outside and stuff? I won't stop calling you diary, it's way too settled down now to change it. But welcome to your new life.

It's just a messy, fast sketch. And I'm lying down actually, but I couldn't make the pose right as I wanted so...

I signed it as 'Luz'. It's a friendly nick for my coworkers now, but at first, it was my artistic name. I haven't used it as such in a long time... memories come to my mind, of every painting and sketch that I signed with this name. It means 'light' in spanish. Well, I'll go back home now. It's getting late, I'm kinda tired, and maybe Ember is missing me. See you tomorrow.

- Eva.

#22

22nd of January

Today was pretty long, diary.

There was some kind of event at one of the shops nearby, so I assume that everybody and their mother's brother decided to do their shopping for dinner before they went home. We were packed all day, to the point where I didn't even have time to get the stocking done I was supposed to get done. I ended up staying forty-five minutes after my shift to get it done.

On a positive note, that meant that the end of today's shift coincided with Leo's. On a negative note, when I saw him, I was struck with a bolt of lightning: I had gone on a date with Leo.

We hadn't decided it was a date, not fully.

But he held my hands and taught me how to ice skate.

Was that a date? Did we... Date?!

He bought me dinner, diary!! That was bloody well a date!!

He trotted over to me with a grin on his face and I dropped the boxes of pasta I was holding. Holy god, I went on a date with him! "Hey! What are you still doing here?" He'd asked, helping me collect the wayward pasta.

"Stalking! Stocking," I said, stacking up the boxes. "Yep. Just, uh, leftover stocking stuff. Couldn't get it done during the rush," "Oh, that's the worst," Leo had commiserated. "Want some help? I don't technically clock in for another fifteen or so,"

"Sure," I agreed. I knew my face was redder than red, the reddest I'd ever been, even redder than the time I'd fallen asleep on the beach. Leo ignored how shirty I was being and just talked about a show he'd watched last night. I didn't technically have cable, as watching whatever's on at the laundromat didn't count, so I didn't know what he was talking about. But he filled me in on some of the backstory with animated hand gestures, hysterical character voices, and the occasional dynamic pose. I don't think he ever put a box on the shelf, but the way that he set me at ease after my sudden realization helped more than he could have ever known.

My entire walk home, I thought about the date-not-date. Leo was so relaxed during the whole thing, but I assume I had been too.

I hadn't thought that it was a date the entire time.

If I had, there was no doubt that I would have skated directly into a wall going at least Mach the fuck Five and possibly crying the entire time I did it. I unlocked the door to my apartment and threw myself down on the couch.

What was the etiquette on this whole thing? Was I supposed to ask Leo if it was a date, or would he eventually ask me? Were we just going to keep going on like this forever and ever until one of us wondered if we were supposed to be filing taxes together or something?

What if I asked him and he laughed at me? What if I asked him and he didn't know what I was talking about?

What if I didn't ask him and I died right here, of a heart attack? Ember pounced on my gut, forcing me to unglue my asscheeks from the couch and feed her.

That gave me a three-minute reprieve from the unholy existential spiral I'd found myself in, but I'd made no more progress on my best course of action. Just as I got done cleaning up after Ember dove into her food bowl, I got a text.

From Leo. Leo: Hey, I'm on my lunch break and figured I'd give you a holler. You said you're an artist, right? I want to work on my painting skills. Want to go to the craft store with me on payday? I want a pro by my side! I stared at my phone like it'd grown snakes for what felt like an hour before I typed back. Me: Sure! I should get some more supplies, too. I've been getting back into the swing of things. Leo: Great. It's a date! I stared at the screen, frozen in place.

Dear diary, it seems that Leo answered my day-long epic saga of self-exploration, self-deprecation, and a little bit of absolute terror.

Now, I guess I have only one question. Is Leo psychic?

--hawkwarrd

#23

Welcome to Day 23, diary, 'cause the breeze is so strong and the weather's so dark that I might have dropped you into the snow when I was rushing out the door this morning with my bag unzipped.

Just dash, drop, drown--I've left you out in the air in the sink, hopefully minimizing the damage as much as possible. Would a hair dryer help? Can I even use a hairdryer without setting it on fire?

Fire--god, I wish I had a fireplace. It's so cold. It's so fucking cold.

Round these parts it doesn't snow 'til January--dull dreary grayness throughout the December and  mild-mild-mild chills until January "the Real Fucking Winter" 23rd rolls around with snow so wild I'll freeze my toes off.

I. Hate. The snow.

We're getting snowstorm warnings but I go to work anyway like how we put warnings on prescription bottles and they don't stop us all anyway and honestly? Wasn't busy, given the snow. No one wants to go around in this weather.

We closed early for the lack of traffic. I'm home now, and though your pages are water-damaged and wrinkled and stained, you're still okay. Still functional. We're a lot alike in that respects, aren't we?

I thought about writing another poem, or doodling--hell, my neighbor's kid plays their rap music so loud I considered trying to make my own. I will not. I would be a disaster--but yeah, that kid--they're probably like 13, 14, with a bad attitude and headphones too big for their face and a big button on their backpack that says THEY/THEY PRONOUNS OR I'LL KILL YOU.  Their nickname changes every other day from planet names to galaxy clusters to snowflake crystalline shapes. Their mom, Hadiza, is nicer, all on her own--a tired smile on her worn-pretty face and her hands cracking from dish soap and snow-skin, but she sometimes knocks on my door and asks me to make sure her baby got home okay while she was out at work.

sometimes i think i'd kill to have a family who loves me but that's a bad thought bad bad bad

She's nice, at least, though. When I got home she offered me some tea--you've been awfully quiet lately, Luz! Come in, I'll make you some-- all soft and warm, and well, motherly.

Made my heart hurt a little. Made some of the snow melt.

So I'm here, diary, after a lazy slow cold day, with milk tea and biscuits warming my body from my toes to the brainfreeze I caught in the winter outside.

Good days and bad days, huh, diary? Good days and bad days.

I hear the music playing up from the apartment next door again, but I don't mind it so much right now.

--redlight

#24

24th January

I was painting today after my shift at work.

That’s why I wasn’t paying attention. Why I didn’t fully look at the screen before I answered the phone.

It was set to be a good painting, I thought. I’m pretty sure I was trying to deal with what happened at the turn of the year. I was so proud of myself for picking up a paintbrush and getting into that space.

I don’t think it matters, now.

I pressed the phone to my ear, expecting Greg or Susan to be calling me to confirm my schedule for next week.

It was neither Greg nor Susan.

“Hey. I didn’t think you were going to pick up,” Nick’s voice said. “Listen, I know that you’re really mad at Dad and all,”

“That’s one way to put it,” I said, mouth feeling numb as I spoke. I wasn’t here at all. I was at the pizza shop with Leo. I was ice-skating. I was even arguing with an old lady about the price of tuna, because I wasn’t here--

“I think we need to put that aside for a while.” Nick said, sighing. “I’m at the hospital. With dad. And Mum.” He said shortly.

“The hospital?” I said, looking around. Ember sat curled up on the couch. I’d dropped my paintbrush. There’s a splatter of brown-red paint slowly seeping into the cream carpet. There goes my deposit.

“Yeah. Dad’s… Not well. Mum and I talked, and I think… We think, all of us, that you should come home.”

“I can’t.” I spat immediately. “I just… I can’t, I just can’t.”

“If it’s about money, I’ll buy the ticket.” Nick said nonchalantly. Funny, that. Who knew being His Holiness came with such a stunning salary.

“It’s not about the money and you know that.” I whispered, curling in on myself. I could barely breathe, could barely think. “What’s going on?” My morbidity asked.

Nick let out a sigh.

“Dementia, we think. He’s been asking for you.” He admitted, his voice choked. “We’re not sure how much longer he has.” “Dementia,” I echoed. “Okay. I’ll… I need to… I have a job,” I babbled, standing then sitting immediately back down. “Can I call you back?”

“Sure. We’re going to be at the hospital all day, so even if you want to talk to him…” Nick said, trailing off hopefully.

How he wanted a perfect family.

“Right,” I said, finally choosing to stand back up. “Right.”

“Okay. Bye. I love you.”

“I… I love you, too.” I said, looking down at the phone in confusion. Nick hung up.

I felt like I’d been boiled.

Dad had been asking for me?

What did that mean? As far as I knew, he hadn’t uttered my name since I’d left the house.

Was he really dying? There was a time in my life that my father dying had been a fond dream of mine, while I was locked in my room to give me “time to think”.

Nick becoming a man of some monolithic God was hardly original. My father had been patient zero. The outbreak. The drop of contamination in the well.

Mind and body, I still bore scars from being the queer child in a House of God.

How was I supposed to go back to that? How was I supposed to care?

Nick had always behaved like I was being overdramatic, and he still was. How could he just casually call me one afternoon and ask me to go back to that place like it hadn’t ripped everything I was away from me?

The numbness I had on the phone was swept away by the tide of rage.

My father was the type to read from the Bible for our bedtime stories when we were children, to pray before dinner, to attribute everything good in our lives to God.

As a child, I was wont to agree. All the evidence I had pointed to the affirmative. My life was good, and therefore God was good.

It was only when things started to take a turn that I found out the truth.

God made man. Man made pain. Pain made man bitter and tired.

Dear diary, I am so bitter. So tired.

Somehow, my father had found out that I was queer. I had been trying things on for size at school, trying to grow into myself in a safe space.

Soon after, the mill downsized. My father was one of the many that were turned away, no pension, no benefits.

Many people would have turned to alcohol, to drugs, to anything to make that horror seem far away for awhile, but my father turned to God. We went to church Sundays and Wednesdays. We prayed every night, together, before bed.

I’m sure there are people out there who thrive in that environment. Nick sure had.

Me? Not so much.

Especially not when I was to blame for my father’s layoff. They laid the family’s flaws at my front door, blaming my queerness for why things were going wrong.

God is punishing me, they said. I was unnatural, they said.

Ember made a small chirrup from the couch and I looked over at her.

I couldn’t go back, I thought dumbly. They wouldn’t let a cat on the train, and Ember surely wasn’t staying here by herself.

I looked back down at the phone.

I had a few options. Running through them would help sort the cluttered stack of panicked thoughts in my mind, made frantic from a single phone call.

Option one: never call Nick back, throw my phone into the canal.

Option two: call Nick back, tell him I can’t go back, but talk to my father on the phone. Option three: call Nick back, tell him to buy me a ticket, go back to my hometown.

Just thinking the third one made me sick to my stomach, so I crossed it off. I couldn’t do it. Not now, at least.

Option two seemed like the best way to keep everyone happy. I was the equalizer. I was the one that kept everything together.

This was my role in the family.

I picked up my phone, but instead of dialling Nick, I dialled Leo.

“Hey! What’s going on?” Leo answered. He sounded cheerful but suspicious. I would be, too. We’d only texted a few times since the date. (Not date? What the fuck ever, I’ve got other shit happening.)

“Something… crazy, honestly. Do you have a second?” The background noise on the call stopped and I heard a door close.

“Yeah. I’m all ears. What’s going on?”

I gave Leo the five-minute version of my family history, much like he’d given me over pizza. It was sanitized, but I could hear him hiss through his teeth while I recounted certain tales.

“Now he’s sick. Nick says its dementia and he wants to see me, but…”

“You can’t.” Leo said firmly.

“Right.” I agreed, folding my arm across my chest. “It would be…”

“Bad, bad, bad.” Leo said. I could nearly see him shaking his head, his hair getting in his eyes. “No bueno.”

“Nick said I could talk to him on the phone, but…”

“Do you owe him that, honestly?” Leo asked me.

“Do I owe him?”

“Yeah. It’s supposed to be just a phone call, alright, but you’re freaking out. Do you owe him your piece of mind? Do you owe any of them your peace of mind?”

What a question. “I don’t think so.” Leo said, softly into the silence. “I can’t tell you what to do, but I can tell you that you are worthy of peace. You are worthy of happiness.”

There was a lump in my throat and I could scarcely breathe.

“I dunno if anybody ever told you that, but it’s true.”

“Thank you,” I choked out.

“Anytime. Literally, day or night.” Leo said. I heard a door bang open and someone calling his name. “I have to go back in, but are you going to be alright?”

“Yeah. I am.” I said, and I didn’t know it was true until that moment. “I think I’m going to call Nick back.”

“What are you going to tell him?” Leo asked.

“That I’m not going to talk to my father,” I said, gulping slightly around the tears that threatened to choke me. “At least not now. And I’m not going back there. Ever.”

“Good. Great,” Leo said. “Call me if you need me, okay?”

“Okay. Thank you so much,”

“No problem. I’ll see you tomorrow at work, okay?’

“Okay.” I agreed again. We hung up, saying our goodbyes.

The phone lay in my hand, inert, but it felt like the potential energy contained inside of it could level a city the size of New York.

I took a deep breath, moved to the couch, and grabbed Ember around the middle. She opened an eye at me, offended, but I wrapped her sleepy, limp body around my neck like a scarf and the warmth seemed to appease her for a moment before she oozed partially down my chest, keeping her head near my chin.

With my little mascot, I opened my contacts and pressed on Nick’s.

“Hey! Are you clear to come down?” He answered.

“No, Nick. I’m not coming down.” I said firmly. The phone shaking in my hand and my other hand tangled in Ember’s fur belied my strong tone.

“What? What do you mean you’re not coming down?” I gulped at his angry voice and the sound of him walking down an expanse of tile. “I can’t go back, Nick. I’m sorry.”

“Your father is dying and you won’t even go see him?” Nick shouted and something within me snapped.

“I was dying!” I growled. “I was dying and nobody even cared!”

“What are you talking about?”

“The entire time I spent praying for something to change inside of me, praying to be anyone else but me, I was fucking dying, Nick, and none of you gave a single shit. In order for me to survive, I can’t go back to that place.” My voice was shaking, but my hands were firm. “I’m not going to do that to myself, not again.”

“Are you kidding me? You’re seriously just being a baby? What about ‘Dad’s dying’ do you not understand?” Nick said incredulously.

“You’re not listening to a word I’ve said,” I spat, sitting forward on the couch. Ember shot me the evil-eye, but she stayed. What a good cat.

“Yes, I did! You said that you’re not going to come and see your dying father because he tried to raise you right.”

“No, I’m not coming to see the man who raised me to believe I was an abomination because I would like to live.” I growled, clenching my jaw. “I think we’re done here.”

“I think we are, too.” Nick said. “He’s going to be so disappointed.”

“So am I.”

I hung up the phone. I stood, cradling Ember in my arms. I sat back in my painting chair.

I bent, picking up the partially-dried paintbrush.

I rinsed it off, picking up more colour.

I started to paint.

--hawkwarrd

#25

Day 25.

I woke up just a few moments ago. That's why my handwriting is so sloppy. I'm sorry.

I didn't really sleep. I couldn't. All I could think about was that fucking phone call and my dad and my brother's unbearably loud voice screeching into my ear. I don't even need to read what I wrote last night again, I remember every single word like it was burnt into my brain. (I don't think I can, actually. Read what I wrote. I can't.)

Why did he even call me? Why did he have to call me?

Fuck. I don't want to go to work.

I wish I could grow vines from my body that would merge me with this bed. That's all I need. To just lie here and fucking sleep.

︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿

Update. I tried to sleep for the last 40 minutes and I couldn't. Even having Ember lying against my back didn't help.

I don't want to go to work. But I can't stay here without falling asleep. It'll only get things worse.

I just got a text from Leo. He asked if I'm okay and if I want him to call in sick for me.

You see that, diary? He cares about me more than my entire family combined. Unless he doesn't. Unless it's all a show and he actually doesn't care and nobody cares and I'll end up all alone again and my own fucking brain will keep on screaming and screaming until I take that rope again and ch

Sorry. I'm sorry. I wrote too hard and now your page is a bit ripped.

I told him I'll come.

︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿ Here we meet again diary. My damaged diary, just like me.

Today was… odd. It was… bad, but… somehow… I dunno. Sometimes it was okay, and other times… it was a disaster.

I was late to work but Greg said it was okay. He was in charge again so he put me in the cleaning product section, to put the new price stickers on the products that were on sale. Then he told me to put in the cans in order and do some stuff like that.

I went to lunch with Leo again but nothing that big this time. We sat outside and ate some sandwiches he made (they were perfect. Cheese, lettuce, tomatoes and salty butter. I couldn't ask for a better homemade lunch than that. I didn't, actually, he just brought it and shared it with me and made my morning better), and just watched the people go in front of us. We played that game I play with myself sometimes, and tried to guess where they went and why.

We saw a woman hastily talking on her phone while walking fast. Leo said she was a lawyer late for court, and I said she was just late to meet her friends somewhere.

We saw a guy and a girl (I said girlfriend, Leo said sister) sit not far from us and laughed at something they saw on their laptop. Leo said they were looking at puppy photos while I said they saw a funny post on tumblr.

We saw a guy walking slowly with a small girl, and while Leo said it was her uncle taking her to eat ice cream, I said it was her brother taking her to the near park, to ride the carousel.

Leo looked at me and asked, “what, like Holden and Phoebe from The Catcher in The Rye?”

I smiled at him, all proud that he recognized what I was talking about. “Yeah. Why not? All he needs is a hunting hat.” I said.

He laughed. “It's my favorite book, you know,” he told me.

“I know now,” I said, and he looked down shyly like only he can, with his freckled cheeks red and his green eyes hidden. So that part of the day was the good part. The only good part.

Even before rush-hour, my luck was running out. I dropped products, I bumped into things. I discovered that I put all the sale prices in the wrong place in the morning and had to rearrange two entire sections. I was already frustrated by the unnecessary work I made for myself, and the embarrassing stuff that I did - I was not ready to spend the rest of my day there.

But I couldn't go home, either.

And then, some point in the afternoon, the store was stuffed. Since it's a Friday, everyone wanted to hurry and buy everything before the weekend.

Which is exactly why I hate Friday shifts so much.

I stood in the dairy section in the back. Once in a while, some random customer asked for help. I tried to stay friendly, at least on the outside. The noise creeped into my bones but I did my best not to let it stress me more than it already did.

My phone vibrated in my pocket and it made me jump. I looked at it and saw it was a message.

It was from Sean.

I couldn't even look at what it said. I just turned off the screen and put it back in my pocket.

At first, I didn't even notice that I was shaking. I kept on gulping and licking my lips, like I was thirsty, even though I wasn't.

Why? Why did he text me again?

My phone vibrated again (and made me jump again) - but more than once this time. Someone was calling, but I didn't want to look at it. I didn't want to see who it was, in case that it was him. I just - I couldn't handle him, I just couldn't. And I didn't want to give him the satisfaction of hearing me break. Because that's what he did, that's what he always fucking did, what he was best at - I couldn't calm down, even after I turned off my phone completely. I looked at other parts of the store, to see if I could see Leo, or Greg, or Susan, anybody, but I couldn't see any of them ; they were all too far away, too busy. The entire damn place was too fucking busy and I felt like it was getting too much.

I had to get out. I had to get out but I couldn't. My legs were stuck in their place and there were too many people and too much noise and too much to do.

Fuck. Even writing it now makes me want to puke.

I saw someone. Someone that looked just like him. And for a moment, I was certain that it was him, that he found me, that he actually found out where I am and that he came to get me.

I couldn't breathe. Each inhale I took felt like fire, just like my eyes did when I blinked. I couldn't hear anything but the blood that rushed in my ears. At some point I must have lost my balance cause suddenly my shoulder hurt, and when I looked to my side I saw I bumped into one of the refrigerators, but I couldn't fucking move. It was too hot and too cold at the same time and I could barely stand and I felt like my lungs were tied up and I shook like mad and my throat hurt as if I was screaming (did I? Or was it just from crying?).

Someone put their hand on my shoulder and I jumped and slapped it away. I couldn't really see properly but I just knew that people were looking at me and gathered around me and I just needed to get the fuck out of there, get away from him, get away from everybody, I couldn't fucking breathe -

Suddenly, a familiar voice reached my ear. Leo was calling my name, asking “can you hear me? Can you hear me?”

Somehow I managed to nod. I blinked through the tears and saw his huge piercing green eyes. “Look at me,” he said, “Breathe with me. In,” he took a deep breath, “and out,” he exhaled. He repeated it slowly, just for me, until I felt the fists that squeezed my lungs gradually let go. He encouraged me and guided me until I could breathe without needing to fight for it.

I was numb, for a few moments. Or maybe in shock. But it was quiet, finally quiet, and I needed that, just for a few more minutes. I didn't even notice he took me outside.

“Here,” he whispered, and gave me a bottle of water. My hand was still shaky when I took it, and slowly soothed my sore throat with it. It helped the breathing, too.

“May I ask you what happened?” Leo asked, so gently, so emotionally. I turned to him and felt my eyes burn again. My vision was blurry with tears and I… I tried to speak. I did.

“It’s just… I thought I saw…” I bit my lip as I tried to stop myself from crying again, but it was useless. “That I saw someone that... “

I couldn’t really continue the sentence, but he got it. I looked down at the ground and when I raised my eyes back at him again, I just couldn’t hold it in anymore. I leaned my forehead against his shoulder and I cried, letting the tears stream down my face and right into his shirt. I don’t even know for how long I cried but he kept on holding me the entire time. I could feel his arms fold around me, and he was just so tender, so careful, just like he could. One of his hands cupped the back of my head, and his other arm just kept me close, as if I’m going to collapse again. My fist gathered his shirt at some point, and I almost hugged him back.

I don’t know how long passed, but he didn’t let go, even when I was done. And I let him. No one ever… comforted me like that before. No hug ever felt so safe.

When I raised my head to wipe away the trails of my tears, I saw he was crying too.

“Leo…?” I blinked at him, all confused and guilty. “No, no… it’s not your fault,” he laughed through his tears. “I just cry very easily… I just… can’t stay indifferent, you know? Especially when I know what it’s like. I’m sorry, it’s… it’s stupid.”

I managed to smile, if only for a moment. “It’s not stupid.”

He saw I was still trembling and weak, so he suggested to ask Greg to let us take the rest of the day off. “My apartment is only one bus stop away,” he told me. “You can stay in my place until you feel better.”

Despite myself, I nodded. In other situations I would’ve been awkward or flustered at such a suggestion, but… I knew I needed this. I couldn’t go back to work… and I couldn’t go back to my place. Not after this… not when the rope is in there, just a drawer away.

We went to Greg together, and Leo told him I didn’t feel well, and that he needed to escort me. Fortunately, Greg was very understanding, and let us go pretty easily.

We then went to the locker room, to take our stuff. I saw he left me a sticky note this morning, one that I didn’t notice before, and I promised myself to leave one back for him the next time I get the chance.

He paid for us both on the bus, and led me to the back door inside of it. I watched the houses and trees rush in my sight while the bus moved, and felt like they were running away from me (but Leo didn’t). Before I knew it, we reached our stop.

His apartment was on the ground floor of the first building to the left of the bus-stop. He kicked the snow that piled up by the door, pressed the numbers for the entry code and let us both in.

We both took our shoes off by the door. He hung his coat in the corner and told me to do the same. “You can put your stuff here in the corner, so everything’ll dry up,” he said. “And you can go ahead and sit on the couch, I’ll make us some tea.”

I did as he said and went to sit on the couch. I felt a bit awkward at first, and would have been much more so if I wasn’t so tired. It was a small place, smaller than mine. He had a small kitchen just by his living room, and the bathroom was just near his bedroom. It was tidy and warmed up immediately when he turned the heater on, and just felt so… homey. The orange light from the lamp made it even more so.

“There,” he stepped slowly and put a wooden tray on the table in front of me. There were two mugs on it, and beside them, a sugar container and a spoon. “Peppermint and lavender. Do you like sugar in your tea?”

I nodded and mumbled, “one.”

He added sugar to my cup and then went to his bedroom, only to come back with a blanket. I was about to decline, but he already put it around my shoulders and it just felt so soft. The teacup warmed my hands up and I could feel myself relax, little by little.

He sat beside me and we drank our tea in silence.

“I’m sorry… about all this.” I finally managed to say, somehow. Words never came out easily for me after a panic attack.

“No, don’t be. Please,” Leo told me. He brought his legs up and bent them flatly on the couch, with his knees turning towards me. “I’m glad to help. And I want you to know that you don’t need to feel obligated to explain anything, okay? I know you explained a little before but if you’re not comfortable with elaborating, then I respect that. I just want you to feel… safe. Do you feel a bit better now?”

I nodded and brought the mug up to my lips again. After a few more gulps, I could feel that the herbs were actually helping. “Thank you…”

“Of course.” We finished our beverages and continued to sit there, comfortably silent. Then we talked for a while, about other things. Leo showed me some photos of his sisters and his dog. In turn, I turned on my phone, swiped away the message notification (and the missed call one) so I won’t have to see it every time I look at the screensaver, and showed him the only picture I had of Ember. He said she was the sweetest kitten he’s ever seen. I told him how I adopted her and promised to take some more photos to show him.

I spent much more time there than I thought I would. It was already dark outside when I decided I should go. Even though I ended up napping there for a while before that. He didn’t even wake me; when I woke up on my own from my dreamless sleep, he said he didn’t mind. He had a book on his lap and his phone beside him.

“Besides… it’s nice to have someone around here. You’re the first visitor I have here.” He said. It somehow made me feel a bit… special.

Not long after that, I put my coat on and took my things. He suggested taking me home, but I didn’t want him to bother that much for me.

Apparently he was very stubborn when he really wanted to be.

“I’m not letting you go all the way by yourself, not when it’s so cold, and not in this hour. I have my car here, I’ll take you.” He said.

Before I could say no again, he already put his shoes and coat on (I didn’t bring my own car to work today so I didn’t have any other excuse).

Leo’s car is small and old, but functions well. He said his oldest sister left it for him, and that’s why there also was a leftover smell of cigarettes (Leo hates that smell. Good thing neither of us smokes) that he tried to mask with an air freshener. I told him my address, and we were good to go.

The roads were almost completely empty. People in this town don’t use their cars much, not for Friday nights anyways. Most of the bars and pubs are in the center. I fell asleep during the ride, and before I knew it, Leo woke me up to let me knew we arrived. His hand was gentle and warm against my shoulder, and for a moment, I was tempted to invite him in.

I couldn’t, though. I didn’t want him to see that shithole. Not tonight.

I put my hand on the handle, but I didn’t open the door just yet. I licked my lips nervously and looked down, a bit in a loss of words. I wanted to thank him again, I wanted to tell him that I have no idea where I’d be by now if he wasn’t there, but… somehow, I didn’t find the right words, at the time.

I looked at him, and he smiled in understanding.

And then he hugged me. It was a bit uncomfortable, because of our sitting position in the car, but it wasn’t unwelcomed. It was a different kind of hug than before, but it still felt… protective. Safe. I liked it. (I didn’t want it to end)

I tried to make a lame joke before I let go completely. I don’t even remember the exact phrasing cause it was that lame, but it was something like, “I’d invite you in but I’m late on feeding my cat and I don’t want my first visitor to be eaten alive…”

At least it made him laugh. His clear, beautiful laugh that you can just tell it’s so sincere. Even from a stupid joke, just like that.

We said goodbye and I got out, and he waited until he saw me getting into my house before he drove away.

I fed Ember. I changed into my jacket-and-random-pants pajamas…

And that’s it. The most roller-coaster day I’ve had in a long while.

I decided to keep my phone as far away from me as I could tonight, and put it to charge in the socket on the other side of the room. If I don’t hear the alarm, at least I’ll have Ember to fill in for it.

So maybe this morning wasn’t the only good part of the day today…

And at least now, I can try to have some sleep. Who knows. Maybe I’ll manage, this time.

- hadar

#26 - BLANK DAY

#27

I may or may not have spent most of yesterday in bed.

I did. I only got up to pee and take a shit.

I needed the rest, though maybe not as much as I got. The more I slept the more I feared waking up, and every time my eyes flickered closed like old lamps in desert hospital hallways, I found myself where I didn’t want to be.

My mind took me there, diary. I saw him in his deathbed, and he extended his hand to me. Hands that were heavy on my body, weakened by delusion, perhaps seeing a child he no longer had but pretended God was merciful enough to grant him the vision of my presence nevertheless.

”My beautiful child,” he whispered in a voice that used to tuck me in bed until it became coated in venom. He was glad to see that my hair is short now; he always said that I shouldn’t have it as long as I liked it at the time, that I’d spend more water washing it and each extra dollar towards the water company was one less dollar towards the church charity pot on Sunday. For a brat of fifteen, it made me want to grow it over my shoulders, only to taunt him. Every day he pointed out that it had grown and laughed about it. Playfully, for anyone who didn’t know better, but each low chuckle was a warning I chose to ignore for the sake of rebellion. I’ll never forget the day when he grabbed a fistful of my hair, jerked me backwards and cut it himself. One swift, clean lick of a scissors. But that’s straying from the point. In this… fucked up psychic dimension that was my dream, my father extended his hand to me and said he missed me.

He fucking missed me…?

Nick was there too, smiling with his hands resting on our mother’s padded jacket. She smiled too, head tilting to the side as it always did, nails long and pointy, polish of a color that looked ridiculous in a woman of her age, fingers adorned with jewels we could never afford so she took to her own measures to have other men paying for them on the side.

”My beautiful child, please… Come closer.”

In my dream - I was nauseated, choking on bile, my stomach twisting and revolting at the mere thought of being touched by those calloused hands again - I walked to him. I let him fuck no FUCK get away DON’T TOUCH ME touch me and he guided me closer to him, pulling me until he could reach my face and he SHIT STOP PLEASE DON’T DO THIS PLEASE I CAN’T TAKE IT ANY MORE kissed my forehead. ”My beautiful child,” he said again, ”I’m glad that God gave me a chance. I’m glad that God gave me you.” His hands - weaker than before, one of them connected to a serum pumping machine - curled around my neck. The grip was fragile, barely even squeezing, but I was contorting already, quivering in anticipation, feeling my air lines cutting in advance, heart bursting frantically as if it were scared to be beating for the last time and it was.

”But you’re broken, my child, you’re twisted into a monster. But that’s okay. God will save you just like he saved me.”

The ghost whips of a leather belt stung on a skin that never forgot the pain, a mind that struggled to keep up to the “treatment”, to the sick… attempt at “fixing” something that I had no control over. In my dream I was crying, and I woke up crying just as hard.

Ember, perhaps unknowingly, purred a soothing melody as she curled up to me. It was a song I never heard, but I sobbed against her fur until she tri-pawed away to chase a fly. I was calmer by then, arguably sober in a mental sense, the aftermath of the dream pressing my body further under the sheets. I found myself wondering why I kept the rope. Was it a trophy to remind myself that my cursed timeline could have ended but I pushed through like a champ? Or was it just so I could fantasize about having it around my neck again? I weighed a few thoughts on the second option.

I heard footsteps on the hallway and my heart stilled. I knew it couldn’t be him, but I still hid until I heard a familiar voice.

“Rise and shine, sugar plum.” Greg said from the other side of the door, choosing to tap a few knocks on the surface of the door over ringing the annoying buzz of the bell. I appreciated that, and he knew so.

Greg… He doesn’t talk much. But he always says what I need to hear, even if I don’t want to hear it. Today’s “I don’t want but I definitely need” was, “I’m picking you up for lunch.”

He introduced himself to and played with Ember while I showered and got dressed.

Sunday meals at Greg’s were the absolute opposite of what I used to have back home in Arizona; he had so many people over on the weekend I often considered it smothering. His living grandma on his dad’s side, his parents and parents in law, brothers, sisters, nephews, and sometimes the lonely neighbour who had lost his wife to cancer and always repeated the story of how they had met, over and over, until he saw at least one eye around the table getting teary. Greg’s partner was always there too, of course. My family was never that large, but the silence and the mandatory praying and the television weather report and the roast and the elephant in the room everyone refused to acknowledge, it was all so suffocating--

Me and Greg met online when I was a dumb kid of twelve, playing with an online mask of a twenty year old. It was a thing us stupid kids did back then, trying to be grown ups where no one could prove that we were simply trying on a shoe a few sizes too big for our tiny feet. Greg, he was twenty-one at the time and had just finished high school a few years late, but it was done and that was all that mattered. He tried for college but never made it in. He doesn’t regret it.

He found out about the almost-catfish a few weeks after we started talking, but he never brought it up. Again, he never says anything he doesn’t have to. We spoke every now and then and when I noticed, I had stopped pretending I wasn’t myself.

I told him about wanting to leave my house. He understood.

He’s the reason I had somewhere to stay after I ran away from my family. From Sean. This apartment, in fact, belonged to his younger sister, before she moved to Europe with her fiance. He’s the reason I even have a fucking job. I can never thank him enough for everything he did for me without me ever asking. That’s probably why I never say no to him. Today, it was just us. No overly large family. Just… us. Family, too, in a way.

“Andy’s gone out with his college buddies. Some sort of weekend-long bonding camping trip. He sent pics, you can see them on my phone if you want? It’s over there.” He said as he chopped an onion without looking at the cutting board. I feared for his fingertips, but years of practice had him confident in his technique.

Ah yes. Greg? He cooks amazingly. He and his husband are gym-pumped vegan beasts, and most people would scrunch their noses at being presented with a dish of soy over beef, but the way he seasons the food is just-- chef emoji, super yum, 100/10, putting Rich Landau’s worldwide famous plant based meals to shame. I could drool all over a plate before eating it - ravishing it, rather. I hate carrots, but Greg’s roasted carrot purée is crazy d i v i n e and I could feed on nothing but that for the rest of my pitiful life.

I should have taken a picture à la Instagram, dear diary, but I left my phone charging at home, so I’ll have to leave it for another day. He promised he’d have me over more often, even when I said he didn’t have to. He insisted that he wanted to have me there. That I was always welcome. I pretty much only needed to say the word and he’d have a front door key ready for me.

We ate (have I mentioned how bloody DELICIOUS it was???), he made a stupidly quick yet delightful dessert and we lazed the day away in the couch, his arm around me, my head on his shoulder, our legs up on the coffee table (if Andy were there, he wouldn’t approve of that). Both of us had already watched that Schwarzenegger movie like eleven times, but still we sat through it until we fell asleep. I had no nightmares.

When we woke up, it was to a key on the front door and Andy walking in. He had a whole bunch of new pictures and stories to share. It was dinner time by then, and even though I wasn’t too hungry yet, I could never say no to more of that meal, so we ate leftovers from lunch and heard all about his adventures with people I never knew of.

Greg drove me back home close to midnight with a tupperware full of another portion of his food. Before he drove off, he asked me, with all sincerity, if I was okay.

Diary, I wanted to lie and say “yes”. I always did, it was a reply that came out on autopilot. That I was fine and that the embarrassing panic attack I had on Friday was caused over some stupid anxiety, nothing I couldn’t get over with a little more sleep and more of that purée.

But I thought of Leo. How concerned he was. I thought of my day with Greg, how I owed him so much but he never asked for anything at all, and I thought of the amputee cat waiting for me to feed her just upstairs. I thought of how much of a carcass I was in the lonely night of December 31st 2018, how I was so prepared to embrace death as one last attempt at feeling anything at all and how I stood up to Nick like I had been too much of a coward to do before.

And then I said yes. And when I said yes, diary, I said it because I meant it. In Greg’s smile, I noticed he too noticed.

When I got home, I petted Ember, fed her, but she barely ate, choosing to follow me around and rub on my legs instead. I unplugged my phone off the charger to open my messaging app and read Leo’s concerned texts and reply to them as fast as my cold fingers could type on the screen of my smartphone. Pressing backwards when I waited for a reply, my eyes drifted down to see one text from Susan - missed call - and the one from Sean’s number. I found myself praying, for the first time in a very long time.

I prayed that it wasn’t true. I prayed that I read them wrong, that it was the wrong number, that it meant nothing. But I read those words again and again, and they were right there. Mocking me. Taking whatever security I had gained over foundations of sand and crashing them down like a salted wave of restlessness. Greg was one phone call away, but my phone fell on the floor and cracked the screen and I couldn’t find it through my tears.

XXX-XXX-XXX: I found you.

Dear diary. That rope on my drawer is suddenly looking very inviting again.

#28

Day 28. (somehow)

I woke up so many times at night, I can barely call it sleep. Even now, after I put my phone on the other side of the room again, that message still haunts me. Mocks me. Whispers in my ear like a damn ghost, settling in my head like a tumor. Like only he can do.

As I said before. He wasn't the only reason, but he had a huge part in my decision to leave. I can't even elaborate on that, it'll make me - it'll make me want to rip you apart, diary, and I can't do that. Not to the only thing I can rely on with my thoughts and secrets.

Dammit.

Knowing that he found me gives me such chills, I can barely write properly. I tried doing those breathing exercises Greg had taught me but nothing helps.

I want the ground to swallow me whole. I want a lightning to strike me right here and now. I want…

I don't know what the fuck I want.

What do I do now? Do I run away again? Do I wait and see what happens? Do I call him and tell him to leave me alone no, hell no. Definitely not. Not gonna happen. If I listen to his voice, I'll scream.

Fuck him fuck him fuck him. Why can't he just leave me alone? Why can't he just let me be and let me move on with my life?

It hasn’t been this long since the year started. But I finally have something good here, you know? I have Leo and Greg and my job and Ember. I have the lake to sit by and the park to go through to local events.

I have my freedom, something I used to only fantasize about not even that long ago. Finally, I can choose where to go and what to do; not my dad, not my brother and definitely not him. Neither of them controls me anymore. None of them can tell me who I am and who I should be.

At least… That's what I want to believe, diary. That's what I want to believe.

… I hate him. I hate that he makes me feel so weak and confused. I hate that with three little words, he can crush me into dust and take away the one thing I ever wanted.

To feel safe. My phone made that special sound I put especially for Leo so I'd know that it's him. He said good morning and sent a cute lion emoji instead of his name.

I'll get ready for work soon.

︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵

Even going to work was a nightmare. That text Sean sent me was stuck in my head, and I couldn't shake the feeling that with every step I made, he made two. It made me anxious. The only good thing about the cold and the snow was that it somehow managed to chill my body, even underneath my coat, because it was too hot even in that weather.

I had to stop thinking about it.

Not long before I needed to start my shift, I bought myself some coffee and some cookies to share with Leo and Sylvia at work. When I got there, I left him a sticky note like I promised myself I would, and he himself showed up not long after me. We shared some cookies and talked, then I gave the rest to Sylvia. She said she'd bring them to her grandchildren, cause chocolate-chips cookies are their favorite.

The shift was rather calm today. Not many people are coming on Mondays, especially not in this weather, so we mainly focused on cleaning and organizing things (it was nice to keep myself occupied, otherwise I'd probably had another panic attack by then). I spent most of the time with Leo while Sylvia was in the cash stand. The three of us had a lunch break together after that, because she insisted and we didn't have the heart to say no. Turned out she brought enough food to feed an elephant, and we ate much more than either of us hoped.

I'm so grateful I had their company today. It didn't undo what Sean did, and let me tell you, I will most likely think about it every day because I can't stand the thought of him trying to find me, maybe he's even watching me-- but… they did help me, a lot. Having them with me kept me… sane. I jumped when I got a message on my phone later in the afternoon, but luckily, it was safe this time. It was Simon, one of the people that volunteer with me in the animal shelter (he's a bit of a dick, but all in all he's okay). He said he broke his arm so he won't be able to be around in the near future. We're pretty much always short on staff, especially ever since the snow started, and our manager, as understanding as she was, kind of freaked out about losing another volunteer. She really cares about the animals in the shelter - she's the one who brought in most of them.

Turning to Leo was my first and only option.

It was towards the end of his shift that I asked him if he wanted to meet me up later and go with me to the shelter. To my surprise (or maybe not), he immediately agreed, and even offered to buy some stuff on his way to get me.

It was only me and Sylvia until I she'd give me the o.k to go, and that entire time I did my best to remain somewhat busy, to keep my mind from wandering towards those three cursed words I have on my phone.

So I drew. I drew the store around me to the tiniest detail. I drew Sylvia sitting behind the counter, writing stuff in her notepad.

I drew Leo out of memory. That one I kept in my locker, later. Leo came to get me around 7pm. When I got into his car, I saw he bought much more than any other volunteer I've met until now. When I asked him about it, he said most of the things were stuff he found in one of his sisters’ bags in his apartment, and the others he bought on the way. He refused to tell me how much it cost so I wouldn't be able to pay back some of the money he spent. I gave him the instructions on how to get there while we were on our way, and he was glad to see part of the city he didn't get the chance to see before.

Later, he stuttered something that I didn't understand at first, and he blushed even more when I asked him what he said. “I - I asked if you're still up to go out with me to the art store on our payday?”

I choked on my own saliva and coughed like crazy for a whole minute. He told me to take his bottle of water from his bag behind me, and while I did, it finally occurred to him that what he said was… That. He began to apologize and say he didn't mean to make me uncomfortable, but I somehow managed to tell him that it was alright. He even said I could call it off if I wanted to, but I told him I never said no. When he turned quiet, I knew it was because he was flustered, even when I didn't look. So I said, “You know, payday is the day after tomorrow… so I guess we can go then.”

He quietly agreed, and right before our silence could become awkward, we arrived at the shelter.

I introduced him to the manager, Georgia, and she showed us in instantly after we brought her the all the stuff Leo brought. She asked me about Ember and I showed her the most recent photo I took. She was more than happy to see the cat already looked bigger and healthier. She said she liked really happy to be with me (I'd like to believe that, too). Leo loved it there. He was so excited to help so many kinds of animals in one place, and he was actually good at it. He was charmed by Georgia's story of how she opened this place last spring, all on her own, and how she managed to keep it stable up until now.

I showed him Shelly, the conure that's still really fond of me, but she didn't like him very much. She even tried to bite his finger (how can anyone not like Leo, I will never know).

We spent our time there helping Georgia around until the shelter closed at 9pm. Then we went to grab something to eat (ate Chinese takeaway in his car) and Leo drove me back home.

He stopped me before I got out of his car, by gently putting his hand just above my elbow.

“S-so… the day after tomorrow. Right?” he asked. Maybe he was still feeling bad that he called it a “going out” thing, but… it was cute. That he wanted to just make sure, I mean.

“Yeah. The day after tomorrow,” I confirmed. I smiled at him and that seemed to put his mind at ease.

And now I'm right here, diary, writing to you in a slightly better mood than I was this morning.

I'm kind of excited about tomorrow. More than kind of, actually. I'll go out with Leo and we'll have fun.

But if I'll be honest, I'm… I'm scared. I am. I never admitted that and I didn't think I would, but… You're the only one I can say that to. I don't know what I'll do if the messages continue, or if Sean starts to call more often. Fuck, I don't know what I'll do if he ever shows up.

But for now… I need to keep it together. For my own sanity, at least.

Or at least, I need to try.

-hadar

#29

One of these days, I am going to wake up and my first thoughts won’t go to the noose in my drawer.

Today is not one of those days.

I feel like someone is playing tug-of-rope, and I’m neither on the winning side nor the losing side.

I’m the rope.

One moment, I’ll feel like things are looking up. Like things aren’t all that bad.

The very next I’ll remember the missed calls and the texts on my phone.

It appears that ignoring Sean only made him worse. As I stood at the cash register, I was sure that my phone was ringing off the hook in my locker.

Leo seemed to notice how distracted I was and he kept eyeing me between customers. He’d look like he decided on what to say, but once we were alone, he changed his mind.

I didn’t blame him. I had to look like some kind of wraith, haunting register number three in a fugue.

He broke when we went on lunch together when Sylvia came in.

“Are you okay?”

Something in my locker buzzed.

“I—”

Something in my locker buzzed.

“You’ve been a little out of it all day,” Leo said, tossing his head.

Something in my locker buzzed.

That was an understatement, I thought.

Something in my locker buzzed.

I must have looked like I was on another planet.

Something in my locker buzzed. ‘A little out of it’ was such a nice way to put it. Something in my locker buzzed.

“Should you… Get that?” Leo asked.

I snapped.

“No!” I shouted, standing up and slamming my hands on the table. Leo flinched back, eyes wide in surprise. “If I get it, I’m going to throw it into the canal and I’m going with it,” I snarled.

Something in my locker buzzed.

Leo stood up and walked over to my locker, pulling out my phone.

“Who the hell is calling you like this?” He asked, holding it out from his person like it was poisoned. “You have forty missed calls. It’s not your brother, is it?”

“No,” I whispered. “It isn’t.”

“You don’t have to tell me, but feel free on the walk.”

“The walk?” I said dumbly. He thrusted his jacket at me.

“The walk. I’m going to find Greg. Put this on.”

He stalked out of the lunchroom. He looked livid and I wondered how I could have pissed him off so quickly, so easily.

I hoped he’d at least let me down easy.

Leo came back, Greg in tow.

The phone was still ringing.

“You guys can take the day.” Greg said, giving me a worried once-over. I still held my jacket, standing in the middle of the lunchroom. “I’ll work the registers. Don’t worry about clocking out.”

“Thank you,” Leo said, voice still a little clipped. “C’mon. Out you get.”

I followed Leo as I climbed into my jacket. He still held my phone, and he looked down at the screen.

“Calling again.” He snarled, his upper lip curling. Where was shy, gentle Leo? “This is gonna stop. Now.”

“What are we doing?” “We’re going to the store and changing your number.” Leo said, full of piss and vinegar. “I don’t know who Sean is, I don’t care who Sean is, but you look miserable and I’m not going to sit here and watch someone harass you like this. Fuck him, fuck this phone, fuck the black cloud that’s been around you all day,”

He ranted, turning down the street toward the cell phone branch.

“God, fuck this.” He finished, shaking the phone in front of him with a snarl.

“Are you… Okay?” I asked, slowing my walk. Leo had marched out of the store with a vengeance, setting a breakneck pace toward the store. He slowed with me and shot me a confused look.

“Am I okay? What about you?” He asked, a little more of the gentle Leo that I knew. “I’m sorry, I should have asked before I went on a crusade…” He trailed off.

“No, no. I really appreciate this, honestly.” I admitted. “I wouldn’t have done this by myself.”

“How long has this been going on?” Leo held open the door to the store for me.

“A few days.” I said, tossing my shoulder like I hadn’t lost sleep over this. “A few…! Okay, yeah, this is getting done today,” He said, marching up to the desk.

The clerk looked a little overwhelmed at the start, but Leo eventually calmed down enough to stop turning to me and reading me the riot act mid-transaction.

A few of Leo’s greatest hits:

“I don’t know who this person is, but they don’t get to call you a thousand times and make you feel like shit, okay?” --While the woman was asking for my customer information

“Who would even harass you anyway? You’ve never done anything wrong in your life!” – After we’d handed the phone over

“I bet they don’t even have anything to say. This is illegal! Do they know that? We should go down to the police after this, I bet Greg would come, Sylvia too, we would all go with you,” –As she was waiting for Sean to stop calling so that she could access the settings in my phone

Once the whole thing was said and done, we’d been there a half hour. I felt like a flannel, wrung out and left to dry.

Tired, exhausted, and thoroughly told off, but… Good. Having Leo make a big deal out of this and validate my panic over the past few days felt… Good. I thought I’d been making a big deal out of nothing, acting like a baby, but watching Leo, calm, gentle, Leo, fly into a fit over a few phone calls was somehow far more comforting than I’d ever thought.

“Thank you, ma’am.” Leo said, taking the phone back and turning to me.

“Can I go home?” I asked, taking the proffered mobile.

“Of course. I’ll walk you.”

We were quiet for a few blocks, Leo’s righteous rage stemmed for the time being.

“I didn’t overstep, did I?” Leo finally asked. My apartment building was in sight.

“No. I… Thank you.” I said, looking down at my feet. “Thanks for caring.”

“You deserve somebody to care about you, okay?” He said gently, putting his hand on my shoulder. “Whatever this is, you don’t have to tell me right now, but whatever it is, you don’t have to do it alone.”

“I’ll tell you.” I promised. “Just not right now, okay? I’m… Exhausted.” I admitted.

“That’s understandable. I already have your number, so call me if you need anything. Or if whoever that was calls back. Alright?”

“Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me,” Leo said, chuckling. “Get some sleep. Big day tomorrow, eh?”

“Art shop!” I said, twinkling my fingers with a smile.

“Art shop… Date.” Leo said, stiltedly. He inclined his head. “If that’s okay?”

“That’s… Okay.” I said, fighting a smile and nodding. “It’s totally okay.”

“Okay,” Leo said, perking up slightly. “Okay! Okay,”

“Okay,” I laughed. He stopped and shook his head at the absurdity of our conversation.

“Okay!” He said, breaking into a big smile and laughing with me.

“Okay, I’ll see you tomorrow.” “I’ll pick you up?” He said, hopefully. I grinned one last time.

“Okay.” --hawkwarrd

#30

Wednesday. January 30th.

  I don’t know why, but I woke up feeling a lot better today.

  I’m not sure what it was; maybe it was the sheer caring Leo had shown in helping me deal with Sean yesterday. Maybe it’s the thought of our date (our date, diary) later today (today!), or the fact that I actually got out of bed at a reasonable hour this morning, or… I don’t know. I’m not sure I want to. It’s the first time I’ve been mildly happy in… years, honestly,  I can’t remember the last time I was – was I ever – I can’t- I don’t know I should know  and I’m not about to question it.

  I think if I mention it anymore it’s going to go away.

  And it almost does. The thought of the past few days come crashing down, and it takes all my energy to push them away. Even then they don’t leave entirely – how could they?

  Sean still knows where I am, doesn’t he or did he never know in the first place?

  What could have happened if Leo and Greg weren’t there.

  Honestly, as cliché and stupid as it sounds (and sorta makes me feel) he – Leo -- reminds me a bit of a prince. I mean, have you seen him? Messy perfect-length light-brownish, hint-of-red  hair, (not to be confused with an artful mess, just… a mess) -- how did he even see someone like me? It’s only a year’s difference but I feel so much older than him sometimes not to mention we have similar music tastes (I found out randomly during one shift that we both liked indie, alternative, and electro swing). Good god, if I don’t get out of this house now I’m going to die, aren’t I.

  The whole day seems to stretch by slowly, so slowly, until finally I look up from my pile of video games and books and lock eyes with the clock.

  2:40, twenty minutes before I’m supposed to pick up Leo from the store.

  I mean – it’s not like we set a particular time or anything. And.. he did say he was going to pick me up. But I know he gets off at 3:00 and it’s only a ten minute walk to the art store from there, and… I may or may not have wanted to stop by and walk there with him.

  It’s stupid.

  And yet, only a few seconds later, I find myself tugging on a sharp, patterned shirt and – whatever else it is when people want to impress their art store dates.

  I’m hopeless, aren't I? I pull into the store parking lot at 3:01 and see Leo walking out the door, finding myself running to catch up with him before he disappears into the crisp air and I have to walk by myself all the way there (because seriously? How weird would that look? Fuck my life but no way is that happening). His eyes light up with surprise and a little bit of pleasant happiness at my sudden appearance as I slide up next to him, looking at me as the cold turns his nose and ears an adorable but subtle shade of red. Or maybe that’s just me?

  “Hey,” he huffs, eyes sparkling, a little more forcefully than he needs to so he can watch his breath become visible. It’s not freezing, but it is January, and thus a bit chilly. Definitely medium-heavy coat weather, which… given from the light one he’s wearing, he doesn’t seem to have realized. Oh well.

  “Hey,” I muse awkwardly in response. My lungs burn a bit from my sprint across the parking lot but I don’t care.

  We fall into comfortable silence, neither knowing what to say. It’s only seven minutes before I see the art store a small ways ahead and glance at him and his strange green eyes, my question rolling off my tongue as we approach our destination. “What kind of art do you like making? Or,” I correct myself, “I guess, what would you like to make?”

  He looks a bit startled, like he hadn’t even considered that. “I’m- not sure. I used to sketch a lot more when I was younger, but I- fell out of practice. A lot of it was pretty bad anyhow.” This time the red across his cheeks is a definite blush, and I think it’s so cute I might be blushing myself. I feel so detached from the events of the last few days and, from the sheer calmness he’s displaying, he does too. It seems like so much drama has happened that even the cool (but not frozen, like that around us only moments ago) rush of air as we step inside the store makes me grin, and I look at him. “We’re really doing this, aren’t we? I mean, who goes to an art store as their second date?”

  He grins right back at me. It feels… neat inside, and I suddenly realize what it’s been that made me feel so happy the whole day.

  I haven’t been in an art store in ages.

  And this is the first time I’ve ever been in one with someone I care about.

  Someone who cares about me.

  After all, Sean hardly counts.

  “I know, right?” Leo looks just as excited as I am. His response fell so in time with my thoughts that I’m taken aback for several seconds before realizing he’s just responding to my earlier joke.

︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵

We leave the store almost two hours later (to be fair, we looked at everything), me with some new paints at my side and some good pencils, pens, and a sketch pad at Leo’s. Neither of us have mentioned the past few days – if we want to be happy, I imagine, it should be now. It’s a date; Me and Leo (Leo and I)  and the art store, not… Leo and me and the art store and… everything else. God, what have I dragged him into? He doesn’t- he doesn’t need this.

  But he must notice the death of my slight smile because his slips away too, and he purposefully yet gently bumps into my shoulder with a concerned twist of his expressive eyebrows. “Hey, you okay, Luz?”

  Am I ever?

  I’m trying to push the emotions away, far away. I can’t let them ruin this moment. It’s too important to me. Leo’s… too important to me. “Yea,” I say, observing the air from my mouth as it becomes visible just like he did when I first caught up with him. I get a strange feeling.

  It’s obvious he doesn’t buy it and he, being no-one else but Leo, stops with a worried (and then understanding) shift in his eyes. “Is- this about yesterday? Because I- I did say I was- again, I’m- sorry if I overstepped- “

  “No, it’s not… I dunno. The past few days have just been… insane. It’s terrifying. And… I’m scared. Of what that’ll make me do.”

  Leo shuffles where he’s standing. It’s not an alarmed sort of shuffle, merely a sad one, as if he knows what I’m referencing and is familiar with the emotion(s) I’m trying to convey. It makes my heart break a little bit. No-one should have to understand. “Yea.”

  “But I’m glad- that you’re here. You don’t have to stay, but you do.” I stop speaking there because I’m upset I might reveal a bit too much. It’s startling how fast the mood changed.

  “Well, you’ll always have me.” It’s so quiet I wonder if I made it up entirely or if I just misheard what he said. Part of me hopes it was really what he meant to murmur, even if the rest of me feels too fuzzy inside at the hummed declaration to have an opinion yet.

  Then the moment has passed and he looks like he did before, flashing me a grin as he continues walking towards the store where are cars are at. I let it go and fall into step behind him. “Want me to drive you home?” He asks, twirling to walk backwards so he can watch my expression as I answer.

  “Okay.”

  The air around my house, I know, is no different than the air anywhere else, but it… experiences unique. Leo doesn’t mention the fact that I live in an apartment (because why should he, my mind supplies), instead focusing on teasing me about my hair (which now looks as bad as his). I’m tempted to point out his light jacket in return, because honestly it’s been bothering me since the beginning, but I leave it alone with a smile.

  “I had a good time,” he suddenly says. I look over at him.

  “So did I,” I respond, softly. I think it comes out a lot less awkwardly than I considered it might.

  “We should do it again.”

  “I agree.”

  So, nervously, he glances at me, and moves a little closer. (Finally, that sense of awkwardness I’ve been waiting for this whole damn date fills me). I know what he’s doing.

  And then he does it. It’s quick, almost misses because he’s shaking a bit. It’s clear this isn’t his first kiss, just as it isn’t mine – but this one seems like it matters. A lot more.

  Then he waves, even though we’re a foot apart now, and just hums “I’ll see you at work?” before sprinting across the apartment parking lot, back to his car and away from me.

- sher

#31

Day 31

The end of January. For most people, that means the end of striving for a New Year’s Resolution, or the beginning of a next phase, or the beginning of the end of something. Anything.

For me, I feel like it’s the end.

The end of… Something.

My phone was quiet for most of the morning. I worked until two today, then went home and fed Ember, puttering around making lunch for myself and tidying up.

I sat down and painted for a while, not really striving for anything but to get colour on the canvas. It looks like the stuff that I used to do while still in school. Not bad, just… Different.

January 31st feels like the end. I feel like I’ve been waiting forever, yet not long at all.

Time has moved so slowly. Every day felt like a decade, but it still feels like only hours ago that I had that rough rope fixed around my neck and the cool wood of the chair beneath my feet. Thirty-one days.

A century.

You are only thirty-one days old, dear diary, and yet I feel like you know me more than any other force on the planet. You are older than time. Older than myself. Civilizations were born and died in your lifespan, watching over each of these thirty-one days with the cool composure of a stone sentinel. Never offering your wisdom, nor telling my secrets.

The secrets, the musings, the crossed-out, scribbled words kept beneath your bindings carry more weight than Atlas carried on his shoulders.

For me, anyway.

To a random passer-by, to a person on the street, they are meaningless. Imperceptive eyes would skim past, reading the words written on my heart turned inside-out and wonder what they could mean. One could look up each word in a dictionary, find the definitions and the nuances in the English language, but would one find the meaning?

Do they mean much to you, diary? Are your arms tired and your back strained from carrying the leaden words I’ve scrawled upon you in a fever-pitch haste to exorcise them from myself? Some days I wonder if this is better for me than simply allowing everything to pass me by.

Writing it down makes all of these things seem real. It gives the passing of time sustinence, body, a corporeal form to drift through this apartment, just as much of a resident as Ember or myself.

Thirty-one days.

Thirty-one more opportunities for quiet car conversations. For walking around an art store and feeling like touching everything, dreaming up ways to use it, ways to craft it, ways to make it mine. For pizza, for ice skating, for crying on the small streets.

For being held.

For holding.

Thirty-one more days to allow the dust to gather on that length of rope.

Thirty-one more mornings to watch as other people go about theirs.

Thirty-one more evenings to sit and listen to the city while I make dinner.

Thirty-one more afternoons to actually create, something I haven't done properly in years.

Dear diary, here’s to the next thirty-one. --cryptidkickflip

[cheylouwho]

South Park: The affect of Abuse and ACEs on Behavior

One thing that’s been a hot topic in the SP fandom as of late is the discussion of how the behavior (both past and present) of the child characters are affected by the experiences we’ve seen/heard about in canon. Today we’re going to talk a little about three of the most damning cases; Cartman, Tweek and Butters.

Disclaimer 1: This analysis will contain several mentions of childhood trauma such as abuse, neglect and sexual relations. Please be mindful that you have been warned.

Disclaimer 2: This is for the sake of analysis and application of knowledge that I (and those in the SP analysis discord) have. We are in no way professionals. I am only a preschool teacher so my knowledge in the field of abuse and neglect is limited to what I’ve been taught and what I have witnessed/experienced. Please take the speculation with a grain of salt… maybe even the whole shaker. Just dump it in your mouth and enjoy almost 4,000 words of fully sourced “its not that deep, fam”.

Preface: What We Know about Adverse Childhood Experiences (ACEs)

Before we can really dive into this whole thing, we need to discuss ACEs. These are, to put it simply, traumatic events that occur during childhood that can have lasting effects on a person’s social/emotional, cognitive and even physical development well into adulthood. They’re mostly used for identifying children/people at risk and for research. It’s pretty interesting how that’s done, so I implore you to research more if you’re curious. These experiences can include:

Physical abuse

Sexual abuse

Emotional abuse

Physical neglect

Emotional neglect

Intimate partner violence

Mother treated violently

Substance misuse within household

Household mental illness

Parental separation or divorce

Incarcerated household member

(Source)

Given we’re talking about Cartman, Butters and Tweek, I think you can see why I bring this up. Taking a look at this list and the canon evidence we have in show, it’s easy to say that they’ve all experienced some of these traumas. Two more important things from the source article should also be noted for the sake of this analysis:

ACEs cluster. Almost 40% of the Kaiser sample reported two or more ACEs and 12.5% experienced four or more. Because ACEs cluster, many subsequent studies now look at the cumulative effects of ACEs rather than the individual effects of each.

ACEs have a dose-response relationship with many health problems. As researchers followed participants over time, they discovered that a person’s cumulative ACEs score has a strong, graded relationship to numerous health, social, and behavioral problems throughout their lifespan, including substance use disorders.

“Chey, what the fuck are you on about? This doesn’t make sense!” you might be saying. To truly understand how these ACEs apply to these three kids and how they affect their behavior, let’s take a look at them on a case by case basis.

Cartman’s Case

Eric Cartman is probably the most interesting child in terms of applying the ACEs checklist, as well as other knowledge about abuse and neglect affects on children. We know, from canon, that Cartman lives with his single mother. He’s a low-income family. His mother has been/may still be a sex worker. He’s is very inclined to violence and seems obsessed with sexual topics. It’s very interesting to note that towards the beginning of the series, while evidences were present, Cartman was a lot more innocent. As the show went on and some of these ACE experiences actually happened in building canon, it’s worn on him and shaped him in real time into the character we know today.

ACE 1: Sexual Abuse. It’s been strongly implied that Cartman has been sexually abused.Here is a not-so-short list of examples from the fanon wiki (source). It’s long winded and detailed, so here are a few notable points (as well as some that I’ve added myself).

Engaged in inappropriate/sexual behavior for his age, such as “touching wieners” with one of his cousins (le petit tourette), giving handjobs (Fat Butt and Pancake Head), insisting on measuring penises of his classmates (TMI), putting Butters’ penis in his mouth (Cartman Sucks)

Has been sexually abused by his mother/because of his mother (An Elephant Makes Love to a Pig)

Has been abused by several adult men ON SCREEN (The Simpsons Already Did It, Cripple Fight, Cartman Joins NAMBLA, AWESOM-O, The Return of Chef, It’s A Jersey Thing)

There’s also the strong point that Cartman has come to associate sex/love as something undesired, humiliating or painful. Again, the wiki wonderfully spells these out, but I’ll summarize. Cartman constantly treats any form of sexual or romantic relations as rape and assault. One example is in the Coon and Friends trilogy, he believes a woman having a consensual relationship with a man in the park is being “raped” and needs to be saved. Another example is his expressed sadness at the New Kid’s “dad fucked your mom” backstory in FBW. Another one that is not often touched upon in his reaction to Tweek and Craig’s fight in Tweek X Craig, in which he exclaims wholeheartedly that the two of them getting into an alteration is “sex” and seems intrigued to watch what’s going to happen. He also uses sex as a form of humiliation. I’m sure this is common knowledge at this point but his infatuation with making Kyle suck his balls in Imaginationland but also in his culmination of Butters’ photographical humiliation (AKA, sticking his penis in his mouth).

It’s not talked about on the ACEs website, but children who are sexually abused are likely to exhibit disdain (but interest) in sexual relations and acting sexually mature for their age.

ACE 2 and 3: Emotional abuse and neglect. Now, before I start this, you’re probably going to say, “BUT CHEY! Liane loves and dotes on Cartman! That’s why he’s spoiled!” Boy, do I hear you, but I’m going to explain myself. While Liane does spoil Cartman to hell and back, I’d like to argue that it’s empty. Liane may often tell Cartman she loves him, she also uses tactics such as bribery (food and other things Cartman likes), neglect (Cartman has said in canon, and she’s admitted herself, to being too busy to deal with him due to being a single parent), and also exposes him to things he should not be exposed to (sex, drugs). She treats him like a friend or a companion rather than her son (Tsst) which allows Cartman to have free reign. But free reign is not always out of love and care. I’d like to argue a lot of Cartman’s power is from lack of parenting and involvement in his life.I’m sorry if this part isn’t phrased too well; I had a hard time articulating it.

This may also be why Cartman has such a mixed relationship with his mother. He’s fed the idea that things are okay and great, that nothing is wrong, and he literally eats it up. He’s not outwardly talkative about what goes on at home, and when he is, he seems to regret it immediately. His disdain for his mom may not be purely “selfish greedy child”, but completely justified “abused child”. As phrased wonderfully by one of our server members, “that’s why he calls her a bitch and all those kinds of things yet still protecting her whenever they try to rip on Liane. Because that’s the kind of love he’s used to.”

Furthermore, consider the situation around Cartman’s birth. Liane was young, drunk and the town “slut” (their words, not mine). Cartman’s father’s identity had to be hidden and there’s no doubt that took a tole on her. I’d imagine being a young, single mother is not the path she wanted for herself. I tend to think of it as a cycle- Liane doesn’t want to deal with her child due to his behavior so she checks out of the situation, actually making Cartman’s behavior worse and so on and so on. Another possibly related scene could be in “Cartman’s Mom Is A Dirty Slut”, when she still outwardly seeks an abortion for her 8 year old son.

On a slightly unrelated note, this may also be one of the reasons for Cartman’s infatuation with Kyle. He seems to mistake the traits of abuse/neglect (anger, fighting, etc) as love due to how his mother treats him. This is why he thinks Kyle enjoys his company/likes him as a friend despite how much Kyle pushes back.

Other likely ACES: Witnessing intimate partner violence (his mother is a sex worker and he’s claimed to have been in the room during these acts), mother treated violently (FBW’s little Liane arc gives me bad vibes), substance abuse within household (I forget which episodes specifically but Liane’s done drugs), parent separation or divorce (absent father figure).

Cartman’s Conclusion:

Cartman has a grand total of SEVEN potential ACEs. The reason why I started those two additional facts at the start of this is because they are culminating (several often pop up and are related to each other) and affect behavior and relationships. Cartman’s behavior, while obnoxious and impulsive at best and downright despicable at worst, can be somewhat explained by the experiences he’s faced. Abuse, neglect and sexual assault have led him to search for forms of power and control in his life, whether that be over himself, his mother or his friends. His views of the world are shaped by what he’s seen and felt. Unlike Tweek, however, he doesn’t have much of a support system, and with the “sugarcoating” under the guise of love and care, he’s less likely to get the help he needs. His risks for childhood and subsequently adulthood are very high.

Butters’ Case

Butter’s is your stereotypical abused child in terms of his behavior and coping mechanisms. I believe that even casual show-watchers would agree that he’s in some deep shit. Unlike Cartman who is a lot more nuanced about displaying what he’s experienced, Butters is naive and innocent and resilient. He easily follows what others (CARTMAN) ask of him. He assumes a more submissive role in his life, working hard to make others happy and put them first to avoid trouble. He’s an easy target for bullying and being humiliated or used. He says things out loud without noticing their implications to what has happened to him.

Unlike Liane who covers her (probably unintentional) neglect with the guise of love, he has no such outward statements from either parent. The closest we get is “this is for your own good”, but there is no loving undertone, it’s purely corporeal.  Their abuse is right in his face; it’s physical, it’s mental, it’s terrible. Steven Stotch is the primary abuser, and while Linda has done her fair share of harm, she’s generally more passive. She even states in Grounded Vindaloop that she “lets [Steven] handle the grounding”. Steven Stotch, as of FBW, is also a victim of abuse, showing that he’s perpetrating it in a cycle (you’ll notice this theme a few times in this little essay).

It’s clear as of season 20 that the effects of constant abuse have finally worn on Butters, due to his angry outbursts and sudden shift in attitude (if you want to look at it from a character standpoint and not as lazy writing cough cough). He’s hit a breaking point in what he can take, and the more he’s been exposed to his ACEs (like Cartman’s case) the more behaviorally challenged he’s become.

Another aspect to consider is his relationship with Cartman. Both share similar ACEs, but cope with them in different ways. Cartman chooses to be a controller to earn back what he’s lost, while Butters is more suited to take a backseat and follow. This is why they, despite having a very dysfunctional friendship, stick together. It may appear that Cartman is the only one benefiting, but I believe it’s more mutualistic based on their respective coping mechanisms.

ACE 1: Physical Abuse. Butters has been shown to be physically abused time and time again by Steven. He’s been hit, talked about being hit, and the biggest piece of evidence that scares the shit out of me personally is that Steven pulled off his belt and prepared to hit Butters in front of his classmates in Grounded Vindaloop. Corporal punishment has been shown time and time again to be detrimental to children’s psyc, which aligns given how Butters acts.

ACE 2: Sexual Abuse. Butters has mentioned in The Return Of Chef that he has been sexually abused by his uncle, which does not surprise me in the slightest. Butters, unlike Cartman, goes the total opposite direction of how to cope with this sort of experience; he’s blissfully unaware of what has happened and rather than let it consume him (ex. cartman) he brushes it off as no big deal. Whether this means he is truly unaware of the connotations of what was done to him or if he’s purposely repressing it is unclear, but the evidence is there that it did happen.

ACE 3 and 4: Emotional Abuse and Neglect. This one is abundant in examples. Steven appears to play a lot of mind games with Butters, whether it’s demanding he stop having nightmares (The Death of Eric Cartman), getting in trouble for looking a certain way (How To Eat With Your Butt and The List), or simply for being bullied. They constantly ground him for things that he has no control over, simple mistakes or things that he was not even involved in. I believe that Steven, similar to Cartman, takes the helplessness from childhood abuse and hurts Butters in order to feel in control of himself.

Other Possible ACEs: Household mental illness could be argued as one of the ACEs Butters experiences, although not officially confirmed in canon. I do believe that Linda has some form of mental illness due to her behavior in Butters Own Episode. Although not listed in the article, Steven’s infidelity and the tension that causes on his and Linda’s marriage is also a potential ACE, especially given that Butters was directly exposed to that whole fiasco.  

Butters’ Conclusion:

Butters’ innocence is likely a form of coping mechanism for what he’s encountered during his life. Constant physical and mental abuse have worn on him over the years, turning him more bitter and forcing him to act out. I believe this also can be accredited to his mental break in season 19’s “Safe Space”, as this is the big start of his downward spiral. Unlike Cartman, there is no cover-up for his abuse being simply that- abuse- so being able to divorce himself and his emotions will be easier for him if he were to receive support or help in some form.

Tweek’s Case

Tweek is an interesting case because while he does have emotional abuse, neglect and and forced substance abuse (coffee and/or meth addiction), he also has canon mental illness that exists outside of how he’s treated. The abuse and neglect of his parents only amplify the effects of said illness. I’ve had a selection of anons over time talk about his potential (though not confirmed) mental state, most agreeing it’s some form of panic disorder (the Tweaks claim it’s ADD, but this is really just a load of bullshit and we all know it). He is often exploited by his parents (ex. “Having a homosexual son is good for the business” in FBW) or outright lied to for the sake of business. They often brush off his worries or ignore him completely.

ACEs 1 and 2: Emotional Abuse and Neglect (EXPLOITATION). The Tweak family are no strangers to emotional abuse and neglect. Right from Tweek’s character introduction, we know something isn’t quite right. His parents feed him excessive coffee, which is later revealed to be laced with meth (did you know that meth increases body temperature, as well as caffeine overdose raising heart rate and induces anxiety? (X) Would you look at that evidence). They also frequently blackmail him into work through the threat of “selling him into slavery”.

His defining traits are usually watered down to “spaz”, and more recently, “homosexual”, hinting that his parents really don’t pay much attention to him to know much more than that. They either ignore or hardly acknowledge his fears and worries, leaving him to cope with anxiety and personal issues completely alone. He’s clearly unhappy and potentially aware of his shitty situation- in Tweek vs Craig, he slams his head against the table repeating that he “want[s] out” and that “you never help me”. In Tweek x Craig, his parents only seem to take interest in his developing relationship due to the rest of the town and their desire to look good. If you use this as anything to go off, most of their “parenting” is feeble attempts to keep up appearances.

In SOT, it’s strongly implied that Tweek is the one to usually pick up meth deliveries from Kenny’s house. This is another form of abuse, though I’m not sure if it’s exactly emotional, that he’s forced to endure. A ten year old child should not be exposed to those sort of environments, let alone be involved in the trade of drugs.

ACE 3: Substance Abuse in the Household. Whether it’s coffee, meth or other form of drugs, there’s something going on in the Tweek home that I am certain counts for this ACE. As stated in the preface, higher numbers of ACEs contribute to higher likelihoods of substance abuse- what if the child is already unintentionally abusing substances? He’s got coffee with METH INSIDE IT. I don’t think I need to go much further. There is also the possibility that with his misdiagnosis of ADD, Tweek may be provided access to other drugs for substance abuse. Meth is actually used as a way of treating ADD (X) and could be in reach for him. There’s also Amphetamine (X) which has noted side effects of "excessive grinding of the teeth,... profuse sweating,... and tics..." which could be related to his behavior. This is all purely speculation, however.

Tweek’s Conclusion:

Tweek’s struggle with mental illness is not helped by his parents frequence abuse and neglect. He’s often blackmailed into situations he doesn’t want to be in. Similar to Cartman, his forms of abuse are often sugarcoated as love, making it a little less obvious for him to pick up on. In contrast to Butters, however, he’s much less of a follower and can throw a punch when he needs to protect himself. He’s incredibly resilient and has managed to, despite early substance addiction and neglect, hold strong and even overcome massive obstacles. Of course, these are partly due to his newfound support from...

The Effect of Solid Support: Craig, Heidi, and Liane

Creek shipper or not, there is no denying that Craig has played a massive role in Tweek’s recovery. While Tweek appears to be very naturally resilient despite the odds stacked against him, the presence of someone who will actually listen to his problems and not brush them off is a huge step in the right direction. With Craig, there is a sense of trust and understanding as well as respect. He’s treated as more than a few buzzwords or free labor or any slew of hurtful remarks. His fears are able to be acknowledged and sorted though, whether it be Craig’s logical talk-throughs or someone to pat his back and say “that sucks and it’s okay” (Put It Down). Ever since the introduction of Craig as his boyfriend, we’ve seen some interesting steps in the right direction.

S21’s main theme of relationships drew a lot of interesting parallels between Creek and Heiman, namely the difference between a healthy relationship and an unhealthy relationship. Similar to Steven Stotch, as mentioned in Butters’ case, Cartman went from abused to abuser in his relationship with Heidi. However, this was not always the case.

In early S20, Heidi was in search of her own form of support after being abused by society, simply put. She was able to find this in Cartman, who was dealing with a similar situation at the time after being “murdered” by his friends. Her presence did arguably turn him around for awhile- he seemed much happier before his self-destructive tendencies and self-doubt came in full swing. The cycle was perpetrated- Heidi wasn’t what he needed, so he went from abused to abuser. Heidi could be argued to have turned into another Cartman because she faced a watered-down version of his interpretation of “love”, aka abuse.

Let’s consider another pivotal moment for Cartman: TSST. This one is such a telling episode. While Liane is the source of most of his issues, when she was able to step into her role as a parent and provide the structure and support Cartman needed, his entire personality turned around. It wasn’t until she began treating him like a friend or companion again that he slipped back into his old ways.

Between these two scenarios, I believe it shows that if the patience and care is taken when dealing with Cartman, there is the possibility of healing. Heidi failed because she too was equally vulnerable and not in the right headspace, ultimately harming both of them (this does not excuse how cartman treated and manipulated her, BTW). Liane failed because she fell back into her cycle instead of sticking with what she had built up.

Conclusion

In conclusion, despite sharing similar ACEs, all three children we’ve discussed have different forms of coping and managing their trauma. The abuse that Butters has faced is easier to “remove” from his life due to no emotional (love) being involved in corporal punishment; however, Tweek and Cartman’s abuse have longer lasting repercussions because they’ve accepted and adapted as “that’s just the way it is”. That’s not to say they’re beyond help; all three, if done soon like in Tweek’s case, can be used to heal.

I leave this post with a sort of “call to action”. While we are talking about purely fictional characters and situations that “aren’t that deep, fam”, there are actual children suffering from these kinds of experiences. If you are aware of them, or see the red flags, please don’t hesitate to get help or find someone who can. Nobody should be like Eric Cartman and display serious red flags but slip under the radar. Thank you very much for reading my long, LONG analysis.

Special thanks/credit to the south park analysis discord ( and @dumbthotticusplayer2) for helping brainstorm/discuss :)

[ingnodwetrust]

NEW RELEASE ON TESLA TAPES https://teslatapes.bandcamp.com/album/ocean-floor-redland-2 Tesla Tapes is absolutely delighted to be releasing this cassette, I've been a big fan of Aonghus Reidys music for a while now so this is a real treat. Below are some words on Redland from the man himself .... "My life has been a simple enough one in many respects, as only one important thing has ever happened to me. Since that is the only thing worth recalling, I can skip past much of what came before, and what comes after is yet to be determined and thus irrelevant. It happened one day that I spotted an aperture in the ground and took it upon myself to jump in. The aperture had neither weight nor measure but was compelling enough all the same. Were I asked what sort of colour or shape it might be, I would be at a loss for words. I had a distinct feeling that the aperture had a sort of a will of its own and was free to assume whatever boundaries it pleased. If I had to give a rough guess, I might describe it as a kind of intoxicating black fog that would bend the will of those who were foolish enough to look upon it. I might have continued walking, were it not the case that the aperture decided to pipe up at me. "Ah sure hop in now, it'll do you no harm". -Are you sure? "Well, is there somewhere else you'd rather be?" I had no answer to that one. Reaching the inside of this peculiar dimension I noted that there were no objects of any kind to be seen, yet I did not feel at liberty to move around as I pleased. The lack of obstacles was in itself a bigger obstacle than any I had previously known, binding me to my spot in interminable confusion. Whole swathes of time played out in that fashion, a shapeless mass of sameness, an interminable fog of nothingness. I relished this mediocre existence, for a while at least. I was seduced by the quiet certainty that comes when you step outside of the usual procession of events, the familiar march of weeks and years. I could have stayed like that forever, but it was in my nature to become dissatisfied with my own contentment. After an indeterminate length of time, I spoke into the shapeless void. -Can I go now? "No". -Who said that? At that point, a perfect Ionic column appeared directly in front of me. It was about seven feet tall. "It is I". -But you don't have a mouth. "I do not need a mouth. Aesthetics is my only orifice, and it cannot be contained in one location". -Ah, I see. Why are you a pillar? "Why are you a man? It is my form. And the proper word is 'column'". -Oh right. I suppose I should head off now. "Don't be daft. I've only the one thing to show you". -Go on so. A faint whir came sailing above me, a bit like an air conditioner. It flew past the front of my face and settled on top of the column. "Take a good look at this while you're at it". Indeed I did take a good look at it. It was the neck of a fiddle attached to a plaster bust of Socrates. "Don't forget that I can hear you think in here too. I know you think I just attached the neck of a fiddle to a plaster bust of Socrates but that's only the half of it". -Oh is it now? Let me have a go. Again the ghostly whir. The instrument flew into my hands and I played a slow lament on its strings. I could have stayed there for quite some time admiring the beauty of its tone, but my curiosity got the better of me and I decided to pinch its nose. I couldn't have anticipated the yelp that this heavenly fiddle would give back at me. "Don't be at that". I was surprised to hear the bust of Socrates rebuking me in such a fashion. -Ah sure it was only a pinch. "I'll tell you what it was". -Grand so. What am I meant to do now? "Take me back to where you come from. Though I should warn you that you don't come from the same place you used to. I can open the aperture back up wherever I feel like. I can't say where you might be next". -But I'd feel a bit funny carrying a thing like this around with me. "You think I give a fuck? Figure something out. I can vomit out beauty from the land of pure aesthetics and move from the unreal to the real without shattering in two like most other instruments of a similar design. You need me more than you might think". -I suppose you could be handy enough to have around the place. "I'm handy at a lot of things. You'll find out soon enough". I turned around to leave, fiddle in hand, when the column spoke to me once more. "I'd better mention something before you go. You will go through three trials upon your exit from this aperture. You can set them to music if you like". -Yes. "Very well. The first and perhaps most difficult trial is the sighing of chimneys. You will pass by a chimney, and you will distinctly hear it sighing in desperation. It will be your job to climb onto a stranger's rooftop to access and console the chimney. This trial will be the hardest of all as it will fundamentally challenge your place in society. You will feel the judgement of those less sensitive to matters of aesthetics and the heart. If you are caught in the act by one of these individuals as you climb up their roof, offer up a few words of consolation and gratitude. Tell them their chimney seemed sad. They may forgive you. They may even express regret that they did not hear their chimney sigh before you did". -I suppose I could do that. Tell me about the second trial. "The second trial is the trial of not knowing what the third trial is". -But how would I ever even know what the third trial is? "You'll know it when it happens. Better say no more about that one. Oh, and another thing". -Yes? "If you set this experience to music, people will inevitably want to know all sorts of useless shite like where you're from and what pedals you use. They'll refuse to believe the real story. Press on all the same". -Fair enough- I could hardly get the words out before this beguiling world vanished away from me. Vomited back out from the aperture, I found myself on the top of a hill, fiddle in arm, the bust of Socrates glowing under the full moon. There were clusters of chimneys as far as the eye could see, and I gazed upon them with enthusiasm and dread. I saw a gentleman strolling past an amber streetlight and took it upon myself to ask him for guidance. -What sort of a place would this be now? "Redland". -Redland? "Yes, Redland". I was encouraged by his indifference toward the peculiar fiddle I had tucked under my arm. Socrates remained tactful in his silence. I wish he might have stayed that way for longer. I carried him with me for several years after that. For all his unsurpassable knowledge of aesthetics, he was a bit of an ignorant bollocks of a man at times. Fine verse lived side by side with tiresome quarrelling and no victory was ever final. The trial of the sighing chimneys was easier than expected but the second trial had me stumped. And having a fiddle with the sentient bust of Socrates attached to it was not as much of a help as you might think. I was reluctant to seek his counsel on this one, as I was sure he would give me some sort of wearying lecture about self-reliance and I thought I'd spare him the effort. It took about six or seven years of frustrated perambulation to realise that he himself was acting out a symbolic representation of the third and final trial I'd been living with all this time, the struggle to reconcile the fineness of pure aesthetic dimensions with the crass demands of everyday life. I have set down the facts as close as I remember them. I hope this story might clear up any confusion that would arise out of possible ambiguities or uncertainties in the music that I present to you. I managed to get about ten songs out of him and his fiddle before I had to set him down at the top of Redland Hill where he simply disappeared into a puff of pure aesthetics. He was an odd fellow, yet I look back on those difficult years with a perverse fondness. I am glad I have some record of it."

[mahouproject-one]

"Too weird to live, too rare to die." | Farah | Trial 4-2 | [RE: Results, Joon-Young]

All things taken into the potluck of consideration, they had to admit they sort of saw this coming out on the endless stretch of the horizon.

The vote for Mitsuo-- it was a vengeance vote really, wasn't it? A vote of pragmatism more than of any real authentic confidence or balls. The flaws were all in the fixings, looking back on those seconds before in 20/20-- why would Mitsuo Ueno cut throats for this motive? Surely the composer would be doing well to be forgotten and go incognito, if anything. This was rooted in rue, all this. Joon-Young Myung made sense. Joon-Young Myung was  the answer. And now Joon-Young Myung would kill for the second time in short follow-through. (You just couldn't trust a nice boy these days, Aphrodite almighty. Them's the breaks, them's the breaks.)

Great googly moogly; once again, it had all gone to shit. Little surprises there, miniscule minutiae of 'em. But if there was one faint, rusted, buried-in-lint-and-aged-shimmer of a silver lining to any of this shitfest shebang, it was that Farah Fujibayashi-Beauregard had narrowly dodged the bloody bullet that would have been Catching One Whole Feeling. By gods above, it had been a close shave! But, thankfully, they believed they just might be able to damn well slip past it to freedom, far away from the ticking doom that was catching The Feelings. It was great! Everything Was Totally Fine! (It was not. Probably.)

Initially, they were inclined to hesitate before embarking back to where they had once been, but something-- perhaps just how irreparably, absurdly gonzo this whole thing really was, as it flung itself off the roadrails-- pushed them away from Joon-Young, the supermodel murderer, and back to the caustic cold comforts of their little black notebook. Oh, they could visibly react to this more, with a "fuck" or a "hm..." or a "goddamn it, what am I doing" or a simiple "crikes", but they needed some sense, some sensibility, some hushed observation-- and where, pray tell, could they contextualise things into such pristine shells and shapes the way they could with writing? That was their duty. They had little more left to spread; this was but another notch on their collective bedpost of surrealism and misery, surely. They were just here to record as they witnessed.

And, ah, wouldn't they have swayed down that merry way of the eagle eye, if only Joon-Young hadn't locked them in with that look and those words.

Dropping their journo's pen with a clack!, Farah immediately looks up to lock gaze with Joon-Young, and something flashes across their features-- quickly, swiftly, rapidly buried underneath that wry, witty, jovially doomsday manner of theirs, and yet...there's still a small, subtle sign of a knit to their eyebrows as they speak-- and their words cut in sharply, clean through the air. Has Joon-Young...perhaps touched a bit of a nerve? (Not that they'll let it show, of course-- they're not the angry type. Or the upset type. Or the rattled type. They are done with the feelings-catching for this particular day, thank you--)

"Ah, please don't let me be misunderstood, Myung-chi. You're off the markings on my musings entirely. Listen sharp, don't just lookit."

Their stare stayed steely, methodical yet merry, in a way that felt...off. Not in a drastic showing of such, just off. They just kept looking.

"Read my lips, Dash. I'll try an' be plain Jane about it. I cawed about death not matterin' much of a whit...here. The now-now, specifically. In this highly particular, reticular hellhole. The rhyme to my reasonings down this particular road? Hell, just look 'round the room, my friend-- at, say, Miyu Suzuki-chi, for an example! She killed, she suffered, she died. But...she hasn't left for any other plane but you and I's, has she? Sure, she's moved to a state of halfs-- semis-- almosts--" (Miyu has heard this before, and they wonder what it sounds to her ears in this modern context)-- "but she's still here, a voice among the haunted crowd, a vox most phantom! She's not alive-- but she is here. The state's the same with the girl you sent to th' spirit level. The sorry sucker you and our thorny Rose here are about to enable the unholy sacrifice of. Sure, you killed 'em. But you can apologise tomorrow, can'tcha? Now, if we talk in terms of what'll happen after the storm if we manage to break this establishment-- that's a tread into the murkier waters, I'll throw that to you. But 'tween all that jazz and a dash of the Labyrinths-- how y'can get eviscerated entirely and get away clean as they come!-- doesn't that render the mutual murderous aspect of Ouryuu and the sellout's game here...a mild range a'moot? In a world where you can greet your dearly departed 'fore their flesh and bones are even loosing their fresh, what are the consequences? It's death, but it's not Real Death, is it?"

It's 1:42 A.M. and Shiny regrets all of her life decisions, but unfortunately, Farah has opinions. They continue unflinchingly.

"Real Death, now-- that'd be something like my dear old gran! See, she's sailed down the river Styx-- been a good couple a'months since it being so, I'd say. But she doesn't get t'stick around. She didn't get the chance on her hands to come back, be here, stay. I'm never gonna get a note on the back of an embroidered napkin from some sleazy retro-riche old restaurant from her again. I'm never gonna watch her go on a passion-packed rant about a corp that's crooked down to its bones, or ride on the back of her motorcycle, or tell her about my history teach's hokey take on McCarthyism, or gag on a sip of that ghastly tonic she loved because it tasted like that on the tongue, or crawl int'her attic space t'look at all her old badges and posters, or-- or-- ooooor--" they were pausing, goddamnit, you're not talking about this, stop talking about it, they don't need to know, look sharp, Fan, for fuck's sake-- "...Y'get the snapshot, don'tcha? And I've known far younger cats-- younger than you an' I, even-- to croak the bucket, and they don't get those chances, either. That's Real Death, methinks. Maybe it's luckier t'be able to leave this level of existence! Or maybe it's as hot as hell wherever the rest of 'em are. But it's different. So are the cluster of consequences, too. That's what my mode is, Myung-chi. And, y'know..."

They didn't have to keep the chatter up, and they knew it. They could just stay vigilant. But there was something else, and they couldn't help but speak that truth loud, but God, couldn't they just...

"...If your personal path of ponderings ledja down the path that I think life's insignificant, I'll have t'throw in an objection on that measure, too. Life, insignificant? Not by any scale, my man! Life's a giantess, as gargantuan as the Reaper! Just 'cause my prerogatives don't add up to staying on this particular playing field for much time doesn't mean I don't place a price on it. It's a beautiful trauma! A euphoria apocalyptica! It's terrible, gorgeous, slimy, grimy, sleazy, seedy, twisted, absolutely fucked! And it's a riot! It's a privilege and pleasure t'be here, and t'have gotten the possibility to drift the continents and see all the wicked the rotten motherfuckers of this world have had t'offer up to me thus far! I wouldn't try spend it like I do if I didn't place as much fucking value on it as I do."

What were they doing? Why? Why couldn't they answer their own questions about it?

"Don'tcha think I have a life outside? Dreams? Plans? Don'tcha think I wanna write a few more pithy politicking exposés, have a few more rounds 'round the block, maybe wander a few more lands, maybe give my Julie the biggest hug I can and tell her I'd shoot a guy on-spot just t'see her crack a laugh, maybe find myself a beautiful wife with a mind like acid, maybe dismantle the capitalist machine, maybe throw a solid couple a'wrenches before letting the wax wings melt and going all Bolivian army and leaving the place a little more shook up when we plunge off Thelma & Louise style?" Their eyes got wider. "Don'tcha think I've seen the circus spectacle they saw and mused 'bout how to at least make it worth the gawk? Don'tcha wonder if I give it moxie just t'make sure it's seen? Don'tcha muse that I have that deep-down yearn to be as witnessed as much as I do my best to bear witness to this whole thing? Don'tcha think that motive might've got me by the balls just as much? Don'tcha think I would've cut throat for that motive they saddles us to if you hadn't gotten your lovely self to the game first? It's not that I 'spect you to-- I'm not looking for answers, I'm just trying t'give you this forsaken rat's idea on it. Think about it, brother. Just that alone."

And suddenly-- all the built up intensity that their face had gathered, their knitted eyebrows, their hunched shoulders, their blazing blue eyes gazing, gazing, gazing-- all dropped. And they were just...

"...Just a glimpse onto my side a'the shimmering pane, Joon-Young Myung. After that, it's yours t'make the deducions on. And frankly, comrade..."

They shrug-- and they return, to their inscrutable, intensive, ever-extending journals.

What else was there that was close to real?