#or i can Not look back and pretend i was never wrong

[drbased]

‘Getting started’ ‘getting the ball rolling’ ‘taking the first step’ is a narrative. It’s not real. There is no ‘process’ because the future isn’t real; only the present is is. And only with looking back at your memories you generate a narrative of your life; it’s naturally retrospective. We are narrative creatures who make meaning out of said narrative. But that doesn’t mean the narrative is ‘real’ - it’s a construction of your brain that you need to respect as part of you. Externalising that narrative and pretending it’s ‘real’ is actually a major insult to your brain’s magnificent ability to process and make meaning, and therefore it’s a fundamental insult against yourself.

Some people can use a theoretical future of themselves as motivation, and good for them. But if it’s not working for you, you need to consider why. Despite not being able to get out of bed sometimes, the person who made this comic still made something. Despite having your periodic breakdowns, you still moved your fingers to reblog this post. Compare and contrast the difference between why you do some things and not others. ‘But that’s different -’ yes, it is different. But there are only actions, consequences and what you value. You value not being thirsty, so you take a drink. You value not being broke, so you drag yourself to work. It’s exactly that deep. Narrative makes you forget that you’re always in a direct 1:1 relationship with your environment. And that feels scary, but it’s not - it’s how we’ve always existed, from the very first rudimentary lifeform whose only sign of life was ‘want nutrients -> consume nutrients’. We want to think we’re more sophisticated than that, but we’re not.

Narrative is a comfortable cushion, because narrative makes you forget that when you ‘start the ball rolling’, you don’t magically become a montage, or a cut-scene version of yourself. You’re still there, you’re still making decisions, you’re still feeling some type of way about the stimulus you’re experiencing. Depression is a narrative cushion, and that’s why it feels comfortable. Never feeling responsible for yourself feels safe, but in doing so you communicate to yourself that you don’t deserve to be here (which becomes literal in the form of suicidal ideation).

In my experience, if I can’t get myself to do something, that’s because I actually don’t want to do it. And the reasons I don’t want to do it might make me feel deeply embarrassed: I don’t want to learn pottery if it means I have to take a bus across town to get to the class. I don’t want to read a certain book because it’s too long. I don’t want to prepare that dish because its too expensive. Sunk cost fallacy is one hell of a drug. And narrative has you always feeling outside of yourself, as if you owe something to some universal force of objectivity which is telling you you’re supposed to do those things: you said you were going to do it, you’ve bought the tools, you’ve told your mum, why aren’t you fucking doing it? It’s so easy, what’s wrong with you? But even that’s an abstraction, because in reality nobody is telling you that but yourself. You might not consciously believe in this universal force of objectivity, but you will find yourself bristle when challenged about it. If someone says ‘you don’t have to do that’, you may want to fire back ‘but I do!’

There are only actions and consequences, and what consequences you value. There is. no. ‘should’. There is no ‘have to’. There is no ‘need’. If you stop brushing your teeth, maybe they’ll fall out, and maybe you don’t give a shit. Or maybe the thought of that horrifies you, and suddenly you’re motivated to brush your teeth. Narratives will have you forget that it’s your prerogative as an individual to want, and those wants are never going to pure or 100% correct. That concept is fake as the narrative is. Make no mistake, all these things are useful for us to make more informed decisions so we can live rich, fulfilling lives - but by that nature that means they come from within us and are how we generated meaning and process the world and our selfhoods.

There is nothing ‘wrong’ with you. And as with everything else, that ‘wrong’ is also a constructed concept and is therefore not ‘real’. I still use the word depression to describe what I went through, but I understand now that believing in what society says being ‘mentally ill’ is is exactly what was holding me back. Society says being mentally ill means that you’re broken and wrong and incapable of making rational decisions for yourself. What I discovered is that I’m always a rational agent, and it’s my prerogative to be an individual, and that narrative cushion of depression was actually preventing me from making the decisions for myself that I’ve always known I’ve wanted.

People who have never had depression yet never have exercised, ‘followed their dreams’ or eaten healthily in their lives will be doing exactly the same shit as you and thinking their life is pretty chill whilst you have breakdown after breakdown. The only difference is, those people will stop ‘bedrotting’ the moment their bestie starts a Zumba class and suddenly they’ve caught the exercise bug. They’re not fundamentally more rational people than you just because they don’t have depression; they’re just not reliant on that narrative as you. They’ve not categorised what they’re doing ‘as not exercising’ - they’re just chilling, living their life, and besides the gym is all the way across town. So when suddenly an opportunity for exercise comes along, they’re not burdened with all this narrative - they just want to do the thing, maybe for low-key ‘bad’ reasons e.g. they don’t want to miss out on things their friend is doing, or there’s a hot guy teaching the class.

What I eventually came to learn is that I’m not living in a separate dimension entirely incapable of being like them. In fact, if you’re anything like me with mental health problems you probably have something they don’t: self awareness. And whilst self awareness feels so deeply embarrassing, remember there are only actions and consequences, and what you value. And you exist in reality first, including the reality of you. You can’t ‘old man yells at cloud’ your way outta this one.

The moment I decided to treat my self awareness as a boon instead of a curse is the moment I was able to write aaaaall this shit on tumblr. And is that bad of me, that I didn’t write a book instead? The book is the ‘correct’ route, no? But that’s the thing; I know that if I had stuck with believing that I ‘had’ to write a book, I would have written nothing. Am I so fucked up in the head that I can’t muster up the attention span, to ‘start the ball rolling’ in writing a whole book? I dunno, that’s a narrative categorisation of myself that doesn’t mean anything real. I’m just who I am now so I’d rather work with that. You can call me that if you like, but I’m just chilling.

[mintmatcha]

so part of the reason he doesn't remember her is because it was such a shitty time at home and he was shutting down he's not just a fuckboy he's a TRAUMATISED fuckboy

If you were smart, you would have cleaned the place of every trace of you, but instead, you're forced to watch him pad through your belongings. Sero, the Sero, dreamboat Sero, is walking his fingers across the shelves in your living room, inspecting the rowing of manga. Sometimes, he hums, like he recognizes something. Other times, he stops on the figurines and pretends to shake their tiny hands in a horribly charming manner.

There's been boys in your apartment before. Well, a boy.

This is different. Sero is different.

He keeps looking back at you with these eyes, these damn eyes that you just can't resist, gently lidded with a smile that feels like it's just for you-

Liking him is stupid. You know that. Boys like him date pretty girls, thin girls, normal girls, better girls-

You adjust your clothes, pulling at the hem until you hear a definite pop. It's the exact outfit you saw on a pretty girl on tiktok, bought with three weeks of allowance, but it feel wrong and cheap against your skin. Wool over a wolf's body, poorly trying to disguise you as something you aren't.

Sero is effortlessly cool. His clothes are loose in they way that still makes him look lean and put together and purposely mismatched. Even his socks are different colors, one white, one black-

"You have a fun place, Cram School." Sero gives you a big smile. He calls you affectionately, since he claims to miss you when you're there. "You really like magical girls, don't you?"

You fiddle with the hem of your shirt more, tugging at the loose threads.

"...Yeah."

He waits a bit to see if you've got more to say, then turns back to your things. He's always attentive with you, even when Kirishima's other friends aren't.

"You totally wanted to be a hero as a kid, didn't you?" His teasing is light and your chest feels the same. "Like this guy?"

Technically, the figure he picks up isn't a hero, but you don't point that out. His warmth is melting you and you swear every atom in your body is slowly buzzing faster and faster.

"No, my quirk isn't good. I could never be a hero. I just..." You trip over your words because you know it's pathetic to admit. You adjust your glasses as you speak, sliding them up and down nervously. "They're sweet, and, and friendly. D-don't you ever wish you could transform into someone else for a little bit?"

There's another pause and you're forced to look directly at him. Your glasses slide down on their own.

"That was so cringe," you whisper.

His shrugs with one shoulder, scuffing his socks against the carpet. "Yeah. I do. Sometimes."

Sero sniffs, then hooks a thumb towards the television. "Do you wanna watch one?"

"A-a show?" you scoff at yourself. "You don't have to do that."

"You're so mean to yourself, Cram School. " Sero laughs. "I want to."

-

He asks questions the first episode. Good ones too. He posts to a character and whispers that it must be your favorite, since he saw the posters of her. Heat from his breath tickles your neck and that helium feeling in your chest just gets tighter.

The third episode, he slings and arm around your shoulders. You had been frozen tall, knees together with hands tucked into your lap, but then he drew you in, right into his collarbone. His elbows are sharp, but you don't mind. Not at all.

You debate touching him back, but your hands stay locked on the hem of your shirt.

When the credits roll, he turns to look at you, face so close to the side of yours that you can feel his nose bump against the wire frame of your glasses.

"Hey."

He whispers it as his hand finds your thigh.

"I'm going to kiss you now, okay?"

He waits a minute, held by your indecisiveness. His skin is acne bitten under his bangs, the pad of fat under his eyes puffs when he smiles.

This isn't a cruel joke, is it? Or some dream you'll wake up from? This is real, painfully real, something that no one can take away from you-

"Okay?"

No one will ever believe that you have a boy in your apartment, one that wants to kiss you despite the glasses and everything else undesirable about you.

Sero whispers you name. Not Cram School, but your name.

You gather up the willpower to squeak out an: "Okay."

And then he does. Lips are dryer than you thought they'd be, but the gentle pull of skin against skin enough to steal your breath away. His own breath quivers with a sigh; he must be able to tell it's your first time, because he goes purposefully slow, moving his mouth slightly more and more open until you match his movements.

When his tongue slips into your mouth, it tastes like the peach tea he's left on your countertops.

For once, you don't want to be anyone else.

[moonstruckme]

Thawing Out

collab with @ellecdc

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5 | part 6 | part 7 | part 8 | part 9 | part 10 | part 11 | part 12

cw: modern au, chronic pain, alcohol, smoking

poly!wolfstar x fem!reader ♡ 3.2k words

Remus is quiet the next day at practice. Or maybe that’s only in your head. After all, it’s not like he can just shout across the ice at you like he used to at home, not with the rink packed with a dozen other figure skaters practicing before their events today and tomorrow. Maybe it’s only easier for you to imagine he feels as confused and conflicted as you do. 

Evidently you’d been wrong about the feelings between Remus and Sirius. Or if you were right, Remus hasn’t taken notice of it himself yet. But perhaps it’s not your place to assume that you know what he wants. As you learned last night, you don’t even know what you want. 

You didn’t realize how badly you’ve been wanting to kiss Remus until he did it for you. Your mind emptied out and your body reacted like it had been waiting for years, desperate to feel him, to learn all of him, with your mouth and your hands and the press of your nose against his cheek. Your skin became more sensitive than it’s ever been under his touch. You’ve never felt more aware of your body than you are on the ice, but Remus ignited something different in you. The softest press of his hand made you want to bend and mold yourself to his liking. 

Ordinarily, you’d be desperate to tell Sirius. He’s your best friend, your partner, he’s known about every crush you’ve had since you were teenagers. But when you woke up this morning, thought about seeing him and divulging every detail from the night before, something odd and unpleasant curdled in your gut. 

You’ve never had the urge to keep secrets from Sirius before. But this, you find, you don’t want him to know. It makes you feel sick even now, going in and out of turns with him while Remus watches you both from outside the boards. Watching your best friend look at you like everything is normal, with all the trust in the world, and knowing that you’re keeping this from him. 

You feel guilty, though you don’t know why. And you don’t know if it’s for kissing Remus or for letting Remus kiss you. All you know is that suddenly whenever Sirius looks at you, you feel like you’re holding his heart in your hands, and you aren’t certain you can be trusted with it. 

“The American is looking at you,” Sirius says as you finish your routine. 

You glance behind you, catching the eyes of another skater before he looks away. Your face heats. 

“He could’ve been looking at you,” you point out. 

“Babe, there are lots of people here looking at me, but just as many with their eyes on you.” Sirius grins, slipping an arm around your waist. “We can feed the rumors that we’re together if you want to keep them from bothering you,” he says in a low voice, eyes drooping in a show of flirtation, “but don’t pretend you’re not the most gorgeous thing here.” 

Remus’ voice echoes in your head. You’re beautiful. Your heartbeat pounds. Sirius is watching you with an easy familiarity, waiting for you to either give him the go ahead or tell him to back off. The feeling of his hand on your back makes something tighten in your core, even as that strange guilt spreads through the same area like a blight. 

You swallow. “Would you be okay to run the death spiral again?” 

Sirius blinks. “Now? It’s a bit crowded for that.” 

“I think we can manage.” You move away from his arm, taking him by the hand instead. Your eyes meet Remus’ as you skate to a clear part of the rink. Maybe it’s still only your imagination, but you think he looks as distraught as you feel. 

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

Remus feels like a piece of shit. 

He’s known about Sirius’ feelings for you since forever, but you’d looked at Remus like he was still worthy of admiration and apparently that was all it took to bring him to his knees. It felt like the worst possible betrayal of Sirius, who was finally maybe becoming his friend, and then when Remus had tried to reverse course he’d hurt you, too. 

The way you’d looked at him—surprised, wounded, uncertain. Remus had been too panicked to give you the explanation you deserved. He’d left you like that. And though you acted normal at practice today, he can tell he’s left you confused. 

Weeks of building trust with the both of you—at first unconsciously, but lately with more intention and hope—and Remus has managed to ruin it in the course of a night. You and Sirius deserve better. 

Remus wanted to be your friend—if his actions last night were any indication, part of him has wanted to be more than that—but he’ll have to make it up to you by being your coach. If he can’t do anything else, he still can get you through this competition. He’ll leave it up to you to decide if you want anything to do with him after that. 

And part of being your coach, he reasons, is making sure you get enough sleep the night before competition. He doubts you’ll want to see him again, but still Remus knocks on your door to ensure you’re getting ready for bed at a reasonable hour. His heart squeezes when you answer with your toothbrush in your mouth, those sweet pajamas of yours creased and crinkled from the night before. You’re an angel for making it easy on him, your usual smiley self as you assure Remus you’re going straight to bed and wish him a good night before shutting the door. 

Sirius’ room is only next to yours. The lights are out, which Remus takes as a good sign, but when he knocks there’s no answer. He knocks again. 

“Sirius,” he says into the doorframe. “Just say something if you’re going to sleep.” 

He waits for a groan or a resentful grumble, but there’s no sound. He knocks for a while longer. When Remus finally gets out his phone to call his charge, he listens for buzzing in the room, but he doesn’t hear it. 

Sirius picks up on the third ring. 

It takes Remus a while to find him. Sirius’ instructions were vague and convoluted, partly because he was lost himself and partly because of the way his words were slurring. Eventually Remus locates the other boy on the rooftop of a bar, Sirius’ legs dangling out over the street and a cigarette dangling from his mouth. 

Remus has to negotiate with the bar manager for a handful of minutes before he’s shown the frightening metal ladder that goes up to the roof. When he sits down beside Sirius, the first thing he does is pluck the cigarette from between his lips. 

“Oi!” Sirius turns to him. Remus sets a hand on his chest, a perhaps overcautious measure to ensure he doesn’t lean himself right off the roof. “I thought you were cool about that.” 

“Not the night before comp.” Remus steals the cig for himself, looking at Sirius over the glow of the cherry. “Did they just let you up here?” 

It takes Sirius a second to catch onto what he’s asking about. “Yeah. Why?” 

Remus shakes his head, fighting a grin. “You always get whatever you want, don’t you?” 

Sirius' laugh is short and bitter. “Not quite.” 

He turns away from Remus, and Remus’ heart sinks. For a brief, harrowing moment, he thinks, He knows. 

Sirius says to the empty night air, “Why don’t we see how we place tomorrow, and you can tell me then if I always get what I want.” 

“Oh, I see.” Remus takes another drag, relieved. “So you’ve come up here to have a pity party about things that haven’t happened yet. Have I got that right?” 

Sirius pulls a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket. Remus snatches it before he can react. The other boy turns around, angry now. “Piss off, Remus.” 

“Wish that I could,” Remus says evenly, stowing the pack in his pocket, “but it’s my job to make sure you perform as well as you can tomorrow. That means working lungs and a clear head.”

Sirius sulks but doesn’t try to grab them back. He only looks out into the black night. 

“Sirius,” says Remus, “if you’re worried about whether you’re going to medal, or what medal you’re going to get, that’s pointless. You can’t control how anyone else performs or how you measure up relative to them. All you can do is give your best to your routine.” 

“Right. Is that how you thought about it as well?” 

“No,” he admits. “But you guys didn’t hire a competitive teenage prick, you hired a coach.” 

Sirius’ mouth kicks up at the corner. “I suppose that is better.” 

“I think so,” Remus agrees. He watches the other boy for a handful of moments, sensing an opening. “You know, when it comes down to it, doing your best might involve doing an actual death spiral.”

Sirius’ expression sours again, but Remus presses on. 

“I know you could do it if you wanted to. You don’t seem to want to, though. I don’t get why. At first I thought you might not trust y/n to keep herself level, but obviously you’d trust her with anything. And she trusts you to keep her there, too, so what’s the issue?” 

For a while, it seems as though Sirius might not reply. The silence is thick and heavy. He continues looking out at nothing, at the stars hidden behind thick clouds, but eventually his lips part on a sigh. 

“She trusts too easily. She shouldn’t be so sure of me.” 

Remus’ brows furrow. Something unexpected about getting to know Sirius has been learning how quickly all his brash confidence can crumble away. It’s almost never when someone else is upset with him; rather, when he’s upset with himself. Remus used to get irritated by the other boy’s bravado, but now he’s just beginning to realize how fragile it truly is. That he never needed to bring Sirius down a peg, because Sirius was almost always already doing it himself. He’s still not quite used to it.

“Let’s get back,” Remus says gently. “It’s cold up here.” 

Sirius doesn’t protest as Remus leads him downstairs, watching carefully as he climbs down the creaky ladder. On the street Sirius nearly walks into a brick wall, and Remus takes his elbow in hand to prevent it. 

“You know,” he says, “y/n was actually just telling me last night that she was worried she was going to let you down.” 

Sirius makes an appalled scoffing sound. “Her? What for?” 

“I don’t know,” Remus half fibs. “But it would probably sound equally ridiculous to her that you’re thinking the same thing about her. And from an outside perspective, it’s always seemed to me like you’re perfectly suited to each other.” 

Sirius makes a low, whiny sound. Remus startles when he pulls out of his grasp. 

“Neither of you get it.” He lists sideways. 

Remus grabs for him, getting an arm securely around Sirius’ waist. He can’t help but think that two weeks ago this sort of behavior from Sirius would have irked him, but now he only feels a bemused sort of tenderness. He doesn’t understand what Sirius is so upset about, but he can tell it’s not nothing. “Explain it,” he coaxes. 

Sirius seems almost relieved to have been pulled back. He lets himself lean into Remus’ side. “I don’t deserve her trust,” he says in a quiet, mumbly voice. “I don’t deserve any of her. I don’t know why good people like her and James and you always find me, but I’m no good at keeping you. I’ll get mean, or selfish, and you’ll see. But I can’t—” His voice thins, and Remus’ grip on him tightens unconsciously. “I can’t risk losing her. I’m going to get her hurt, and she’ll stop trusting me, and I’ll have let her down again. I can’t do it.” 

The pair walks for a while in silence. Remus can feel the shadows of deeper fears swimming underneath the ones Sirius has just divulged to him, but he’s not sure how to respond. Even during Remus’ most spectacular failures of his career, he was at least the only one who got hurt. He was never tied to anyone else, never risked anybody but himself. If he messed up, he suffered the consequences, and that was it. 

Remus holds Sirius against him as he uses his card to enter the Village. The halls are quiet, most athletes and staff having turned in for the night. 

“When I first started working with the two of you,” Remus says lowly, “I didn’t always see why y/n trusted you so much, either. You were a brilliant skater, of course, but you just seemed like such a tosser.” 

That works as intended, getting a puff of laughter out of Sirius. 

“But I knew I had to figure out a way to work with you, and she just seemed to have complete faith in you. So after a while, I just started trusting that she knew what she was doing. She knew you better than I did, of course, so I figured the two of you had an understanding I just couldn’t comprehend. And the longer I worked with you, the more I could see how she was right.

“What I’m trying to say is, it took me a while to trust you, but I came around because I trusted her. You trust her, don’t you?” 

Sirius has been quiet, but at this, he looks up as though in surprise. “Of course, yeah.” 

Remus suppresses a smile. They both fall silent as they pass by your room, eyes catching on the door you’re sleeping behind like there’s a siren’s call coming from within. Remus wonders if it’s for the same reasons. 

After Sirius lets them into his room, Remus continues softly, “So maybe you ought to give it a try. If you can’t trust yourself, trust the faith she has in you. When is she ever wrong?” 

He expects Sirius to smile at that, but he doesn’t seem to be in the mood for joking. His eyes are big and sad as he sits down on his bed, a quiet sort of asking in them. 

“I think she could be wrong about this,” he says in a near whisper. 

Remus’ throat aches with sympathy. He crouches by Sirius’ feet, ignoring the protests of his hip to start taking off the other boy’s shoes. 

“She’s not,” he says. “She’s just smarter than the both of us. You’re loyal, and brave, and kind. She’s always known that, but it took me a while to catch on.”

“I’m not.” Sirius sounds almost desperate. 

Remus doesn’t back down. “You are.” Frustration and tenderness war inside him. He sets his hands on Sirius’ knees, looking him in the eyes. “Why would I lie to you?” 

A look comes over Sirius face, peculiar only in the moment before Remus recognizes it. He’s seen Sirius look that way a thousand times. At you. 

Remus’ heart thumps. 

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

Remus’ thumb strokes over his thigh, and Sirius’ heart does something abhorrent behind his ribs

“Sirius.” Amber eyes look into his, warm and earnest and unrelenting. “Why would I lie?” 

Sirius began to sober up as soon as Remus called him earlier tonight. He’d started drinking to try and rid himself of that pesky, familiar feeling of derealization that had taken hold, but he’d stopped then. Paid his tab and gone up to the roof, where in the cool air Sirius had the powerful, frightening urge to wait for Remus and tell him everything about himself. Tell him every last terrible thing and see if he flinched. 

Only he hadn’t flinched. He’d taken Sirius home, whatever drunkenness was left lost on the wind during the walk, and taken his shoes off for him, and told him in various words that he was worth something. 

And now Remus is rubbing the sides of his knees. And his hands are gentle and so are his eyes, and his expression says that he believes it, that Sirius is worth something, and Sirus thinks, Fuck it. 

If it goes poorly, he can say tomorrow that he was drunk and doesn’t remember a thing.

Sirius mashes his lips into Remus’. 

A hoarse sound tears from somewhere inside Remus. He pushes against Sirius’ mouth, grabbing fistfuls of his shirt and pressing him backwards onto the bed. The mattress is hard and the frame creaks under their combined weight, Remus’ hand finding Sirius’ throat and wrapping around it like an embrace. 

Sirius flips them over. Remus lets him, reclining back against the pillow propped along the wall and tugging Sirius closer like someone’s going to rip him away. He tastes like chocolate and cigarettes. A low whine rises in Sirius’ throat. 

Remus’ hands loosen their grip. “Wait.” 

“No,” Sirius pleads. 

“Aren’t you….” Remus pants. He pulls their lips apart but doesn’t go far, resting his forehead against Sirius’. “I’m confused. I thought you had feelings for y/n.” 

Sirius sucks in a breath. “You know about that?” 

A quiet, nervous chuckle. “Yeah, love. But you’ve just kissed me, so…I suppose I’m wondering what that means.” 

Sirius’ heart trembles. “I don’t know,” he says. “I don’t know.” 

“It’s alright.” Remus’ voice is a balm. He kisses Sirius once, a soft peck. “What do you feel?” 

Sirius opens his eyes and finds Remus watching him. The other boy’s forehead sits a bit higher than his, so Sirius has to tilt his gaze up, feeling cracked open and wretched. 

“I don’t know,” he says again, softer. “Is it bad to want both?” 

There’s a brief pause. Remus’ brow creases slightly. “I don’t think so,” he replies. “But I have to tell you something.” 

Sirius takes his forehead away from Remus’, putting a couple of inches between them. “Go on, then.” 

“Last night, I kissed y/n.” 

Sirius braces himself to hide a reaction, but there’s nowhere to hide from Remus’ perceptive gaze and after a moment, Sirius finds there’s not much reaction to hide anyway. He doesn’t feel upset. The idea of Remus kissing you is…well, it’s not unlike hearing him call you pet names or watching him touch you. Sirius doesn’t wish that Remus hadn’t done it, only that he’d been there as well. He does sort of wish that he’d gotten to kiss both of you first, though. 

“I stopped it as soon as my head caught up to me,” Remus goes on. He seems to be studying Sirius, though Sirius has no clue what he might find. “I felt really awful for doing it when I knew you had feelings for her, but now that you’ve said that, I think I might have feelings for both of you, too.” 

“Brilliant.” Sirius’ heart is hammering, but he does his best to make his voice sound unaffected. “Then what do we do now?” 

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

You stumble out of bed half-awake. You’re not even entirely sure if someone’s knocked on your door or if you’ve dreamed it, but your feet propel you there with urgency nonetheless. You rub your eyes as you open it, mouth stretching with a yawn. 

Sirius and Remus are standing outside, both rumpled but still in their daytime clothes. Their pupils are blown and lips wet and swollen. 

“We were wondering,” says Remus, slightly breathlessly, “if you might have a moment.”

[l-artemisia-del-secolo]

You've been living a peaceful life for the last 100 years, trying to be off the radar.

You did help Strange a few times from afar, but becoming an active participant? No, you had enough of that.

Your owned ranch, your owned daily routines. You were almost healed from centuries of fighting for your life, ideals and power.

Until one day Strange broke his part of the deal.

"I need your help."

You sighed. He never cared about your garden. Always appearing when you were searching for escape with your flowers.

"No, Stephen. Whatever it is, I don't care. And please levitate. You're leaving traces."

"it's Agatha Harkness."

You looked at him. No emotions. He was waiting for your reaction. But you didn't give him any clues.

"Since when can't you fight a bound witch?"

You turned back to your apple tree. You knew in what state Agatha was. Not a threat, not an opponent. She was too deep in her illusion.

"Everything is going to change soon. There are… Entities who want her free."

"Name me one entity who would want to be betrayed by her."

"I can name you two. The boy."

"One of the twins. " Only the sound of your garden shears was heard.

It wasn't even a question. You already felt it. Stephen wouldn't be here if the reason wasn't so serious.

"And the other one?"

"Your old friend."

"Why don't you do this yourself, Stephen?"

"You know I'm not allowed to interact with her."

___

WestView used to be a charming town. Before the Hex. You could still feel the remains of Wanda's magic. People were still scared, wounds were too fresh.

You quickly found Agatha. She was blissfully living through her illusion. Wanda definitely had style.

You knew Harkness when she was dangerous, now she was weak and vulnerable.

If it was the old you, her neck would snap in a second. But you changed. And she wasn't the one you were searching for.

If Stephen was right you were all fucked.

You followed Agatha to the police station, pawn shop, and her house.

The boy wasn't here yet. You had some time. You built yourself a charming backstory, you pretended to love bad coffee. In a month you were already a citizen of WestView.

What if Stephen was wrong? This happened before. Agatha was protected by her own dreams until the cracks the power of nature itself called for you.

You rushed to your hotel room. You needed protective spells. You were not the only witch in town.

___

Stephen was right. Unfortunately.

Someone knocked on the door, but didn't wait for the answer.

"I thought you could afford a better place."

Stephen was right. You were all fucked.

"I thought you're old enough not to play with food."

Rio laughed at the remark. You almost forgot that sound.  You recognized her immediately. Sure the clothes were different, hair, eyes were greener than you remembered.

There was no point in the book you were holding. You started remembering that spells never worked against Rio.

"What are you doing here?" She noticed your gesture of peace. No fight tonight.

"Making sure that you're keeping the monster on the leash."

"oh, it's so much fun not being a monster in this scenario." Rio smiled like a child who finally got her approval.

"It's not about you." You suddenly felt tired. You had this talk before. Each century you were alive.

"It's about you." Rio chose to come closer.

"Is that a holster under your jacket?"

"Yeah, Agatha is in her Swedish crime show period. You like it?"

Rio got rid of her jacket, which simply disappeared in thin air. Brunette always loved theatricality.

"Sure." You were not planning for her to be in your space. You tried to step aside.

"No, no, no." Rio grabbed your hand. "You wanted to talk, let's talk."

You noticed the green light. No doubt her crown was a reminder of her power. Her cosmic power, her power over you.

"Leave the covenless witch alone." You whispered. Oh, but Rio heard every word. She smirked.

"or else?" you could feel her magic all over you.

You formed the fireball in your palm. Light was dancing in Rio's eyes.

"oh, isn't it our favorite foreplay?" witch mimicked your move with her free hand. Green rose appeared. "I missed this."

She let go of you and offered the flower. You took it.

You started remembering. Once it was like this. Every day. You almost forgot why you were here.

"leave Agatha as she is." You still were looking at the flower. It was flawless. Created by nature itself.

"really?" Rio groaned. "if I had known you'd care about her so much I'd lure her into darkness ages ago."

You could hear the hurt in her voice. It wasn't a distraction from her plan. She turned to the door. You flicked your wrist. Thin line of fire appeared around Rio's neck.

"I can't kill you. But I can definitely slow you down."

"till your sorcerer comes?" Rio laughed. She tilted her head and it was enough for you to hit the wall. If she wanted to you'd never get up again.

"Let's have a deal. You give me one date and I give you one more day of bound covenless witch."

___

This idea was so wrong. With Rio you never had courtship per se. The day you met she stayed with you. It was always about the sparks that amplified the worst in both of you.

You needed to know Rio's plan. You needed to win yourself some time.

This time Rio didn't invite herself In. You opened the door. This time it was a bouquet of flowers that never even existed. No doubt, Rio created them only for you.

This time it was a green suit. Always on brand.

Of course she was driving. It was the most human thing you ever saw her doing.

"Where are we going?"

"We'll drink and watch the wolves howl at the full moon."

"There are no wolves here."

"I brought a few with me."

___

"Why did you leave me?" it was her first question after the awkward silence.

You were sitting on the branches that Rio lowered for you. Pack of white wolves was playing in front of you, occasionally asking for attention.

"Is that important?"

"don't mortals talk about their experiences, share feelings?"

"you're not a mortal."

"tonight I am."

You shrugged. You had to play this game.

"I was tired of being… A villain." whiskey was still burning your throat after all these years.

"I never asked you to."

"you never did. But you sure as hell were reminding me every day of who I was. With you I've forgotten the weight of my choices. With you everything was just a game…"

You felt her touch on your skin. Rio guided you towards her. You remembered this. She kissed you like this before. Many moons like this ago.

She was gentle. Always was. You just forgot it.

"You were never a game."

"And you were always thriving on chaos.",

You stood up. Immediately one of the wolves ran towards you. He was friendly, but like with Rio you were not sure he wasn't trained to pretend.

"Why do you need a covenless witch?"

"Is it important right now? It's always about the balance."

"Right. And a few witches you can take for yourself."

Greens started wrapping around your waist and arms. Rio was calling you. Slowly you let them drag you to her. You used to play like this. You used to allow her this.

"Give me another date and you'll get another day."

___

The next day you went to her house. She recreated the garden you once had. With her powers it was so much easier.

"Remember how we used to play with reality?"

"Yes."

Rio remembered every single of your creations. She was attentive to details. You did play with reality. Both of you. You were luring your enemies into scenarios that could never be real. And after that Rio was feasting on them.

"Exactly like now you're playing with Agatha. You always protected your deal with her."

You preferred this Rio more. With the crown, with the flowers in the dress. It was her element.

"She's an effective killer. That's it."

"And what about the boy?"

"And what about your peaceful life?" Rio squeezed grapes and the wine poured in glasses. She offered you one.

"It is expectedly peaceful."

"Sounds boring. Maybe that's why you're here. With me? Missed the fun?"

What did she want to hear from you? You never cared about fun. You missed her. You missed your lover, your partner, your chosen one. You missed your garden. It was never fun. It was always you destroying everyone with fire.

Rio threw her Chalice on the ground. Wine turned into flowers. Again she was too close. She was behind you. She was seducing you with her breath on your neck.

"Rio…" You tried not to give in so easily. "I'm here because…"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, the greater good." She was playing with your hair, whispering right into your soul. "It's all about not letting Agatha and the kid get their powers."

Her fingers were studying your heartbeat. She always thought that this curious mortal sound was only for her.

You only inhaled sharply. When you agreed to Stephen's plea you knew all about the risk. But you thought you were stronger than this.

"Let go of me."

When did her fingers travel to your neck? You didn't notice. Your whole body was tingling. Your soul was aching for her. You were alone for so long.

"You don't want this."

Of course you didn't. But Rio had no right to say it out loud.

___

Your third date was an unspoken agreement. You cooked. More for yourself, than for Rio. Old book of recipes reminded you of the hardships of trying to live amongst ordinary people.

"Candles are not lit."  Oh, that smug face. Rio always adored seeing your deadly powers in the most boring situations.

Table was between you this time.  You hoped it would help. It would give you a chance to win some time.

You tilted your head. Instead of candles - the fireplace became playful.  You disobeyed. In a very small detail, but Rio noticed.

This time the silence was longer, heavier. She wasn't eating. she wasn't playing.

"Do you ever miss your mortal family?"

"I do."

"What's it like?"

Rio never respected the concept of privacy. But those were the rules. You had to talk.

"Don't you know? Were you not there when both my husband and daughter died in my arms?"

You stood up for another bottle. Rio followed you to the kitchen.

"Did they… Did they give you what I couldn't?"

"They taught me once again to care about life. Respect the time. They reminded me that you're supposed to exist not only for your own sake."

You didn't admit that you barely remembered their faces. That the pain was almost gone. That for you it was just a fleeting moment. You already didn't remember whether it was real or not.

"Well, I remind everyone exactly this. But with you it's chaos, right?"

You could swear you saw a tear. Was Rio even capable of this? After all the time. all the damage. all the emptiness.

You pulled her closer. You wanted only to remind her that it was never her fault. You desperately wanted to remind her of that. You were clawing deeper and deeper into her. Biting. scratching, kissing whatever skin you could get.

You were tearing the silk. You pushed her against the kitchen aisle. It was always the chaos. But chaos that you wanted and were thriving for.

Now the chaos suddenly wanted to submit. You didn't expect that.

"I missed this." you were murmuring in her ear. You were ready to get on your knees for her. When did your hunger appear again? This time it was different. No burned land, no fallen trees, no skars and marks of struggle.

It was different this time. It took more than a hundred years for Rio to finally feel regret.

You didn't notice how you got into the bedroom. How clothes weren't yours anymore.

She took care of you. Rio always wanted only this.

___

The next day you didn't want to open your eyes. What if Rio wasn't there? Well, it wouldn't be the first time.

"I'm here."

Rio was watching you. She looked tense. She was sitting in the armchair, which now resembled the throne. She pointed to the cup of coffee on your bedside table.

"Charming as usual."

"We don't have much time, baby." And there it was. Your nickname. "Kid is coming tonight. We need to be there."

"Oh, no, no. I'm not letting you…"

"It's about the kid. Not a covenless witch. He needs to come with me. And you will make sure it happens. Isn't this what sorcerers want?"

"Yes."

"Well, then you'll have to join the road. Come baby, we don't have much time." she gave you a peck on the cheek. "It's gonna be like the old times."

You sighed. Yeah, this was going to be an adventure. You simply hoped that this night you saw the real Rio. And after this night you would stay the same.

[alwaysthefool]

But She’s Not You (x Zayne)

Technically part 2 to Opposite (linked) but you can read it stand alone too.

Warnings: insecurity

Tags: Angst to comfort, f! Reader (pro trans blog), MC Reader

Synopsis: After you saw him with someone else and misunderstood, Zayne lets you know you’re the only one for him.

Sulking at the waiting room couldn’t get past Yvonne’s sharp eyes. It had been a week since you’d come to the hospital. You didn’t pick up Zayne’s calls after you ‘ended things’, and him, being the gentleman that he was, did not push it. He was probably busy again, and now he had someone else to keep him company. Unfortunately for you, you had a weird and constant chest pain that was getting hard to ignore. You begged the receptionist to get you any other cardiologist than Zayne, which meant you had to wait, because Zayne would never make you wait when it came to your heart.

“What’s wrong?” She took a seat beside you at the metal chairs. “Trouble with the doc?”

You sighed, your head down, grateful she was here. “I saw him with another girl. Laughing, with another girl.”

“Dr. Zayne laughs?” Grayson slumped down on the other side of you. That just made you feel worse. Right, he was usually stoic, but who wouldn’t laugh when someone like her was making a joke?

Yvonne pinched Grayson, as if begging him to read the room.

“Well, he’s doing terribly.” Grayson spoke immediately. “I don’t think he took a break this entire week. Jo almost has to force him to take a break at times.”

Tears filled your eyes immediately and you hated that it wasn’t because you were concerned about him, but rather that he had another girl who’d remind him to take breaks, to eat sweets, to smile every now and then. It was selfish to think like that, but you couldn’t help but wish it was you.

“Dr. Grayson.” Yvonne warned, gesturing to you. “Don’t you have a surgery to get to?”

Grayson took the cue noticing your silent crying, pretending he was paged for something important, running away.

“There’s really nothing going on between them.” Yvonne tried to help you, patting your back. “There’s been new discoveries on Protocore syndrome treatments, and Jo is from the institute that made the discovery.”

You tried to stop the tears. Right, it couldn’t be helped. “It’s just… hard to be with someone like him.” You wiped your face with your sleeve. “Someone who’s always going to be wanted by people who are more than me. I’ll make one mistake, and he can find another girl who’s better than me in every way, and will never make any. I don’t want to spend my life thinking I have to compete.”

“Ms. [Name].” Zayne’s voice spoke from above you, sending your already struggling heart into a frenzy. “Please see me in my room immediately.”

You looked up to see him walk away, into his office, the nurse beside him, apologising to you. “I tried to hide it from him, but he was furious when I didn’t tell him you were here.” She whispered. You told her it was okay, silently following him. He held the door to his office open for you, closing it behind him once the two of you were in.

“You might be mad at me, but did you really have to try and change doctors?”

“I didn’t want to waste your time.”

“Nonsense.” He looked back at you with furious eyes. His hair was a mess, he’d definitely not had enough sleep, and you could see a bit of stubble on his jaw. No matter what happened, Zayne would put effort into his appearance, but you’d never seen him like that before.

You wanted to say something, ask him if he was alright, but you could only take your place on the couch in his office.

“How long have you been experiencing this?” He asked sternly, still standing, looking at your chart.

“A week.”

He shot you an exasperated look. “A week? And you’re only coming here now?”

I didn’t want to face you. You wanted to confess, but you settled with “I thought it’d go away by itself.”

Zayne tried to calm himself down, placing the chart on the table, sitting down on his desk with his head in his hands. You didn’t have control over yourself as your legs walked over to him. Even if he liked someone else, you couldn’t let him go. You couldn’t help but reach for him, your hand lightly resting on his back.

“Zayne?”

“Can I hold you?” His voice was broken, pleading. You let out a soft ‘yes’, and he immediately pulled you into his lip, hugging you tightly.

Was Zayne… crying?

“You’re here.” He whispered, resting his face against your neck, nuzzling into it, tightening his protective hold. Even if you couldn’t hear it well, you felt his wet eyes. He still smelled of coffee and mint. “Please don’t leave me again. I thought I messed up for good. Please give me another chance.”

“I overreacted.” You put your hands in his hair, and he kissed your neck. “I’m so sorry.”

“No.” He pulled away, holding you firmly on his lap with his large hands on your waist. “I didn’t understand how it must’ve looked to you. I’m away all the time, I don’t make time for you, but if it’s not you…” He looked intensely into your eyes. “It’s no one.”

Your heart felt less heavy, the pain easing into relief. You took a deep breath, but it still hurt your chest a little.

“And I’m sorry for what I said.“ He continued.

You teared up again. “Yeah, you should be. You have no idea how I felt.”

“I’ll win you back, if you’re not yet convinced.” He kissed you on your cheek, taking a handkerchief out of his bag to wipe away your tears. “Tell me, what do you want? I’ll give you anything.”

“What I came for. A diagnosis for my heart.” You smiled.

Zayne turned red, clearing his throat, helping you off his lap but not letting go of your hand. “Of course. I need you to come with me to get some tests done.” He used his free hand to look at his notes on the chart.

“And after that, you’re coming home with me so I can make it all up to you.”

—x—

[sleepyparalysisdmon]

SVT with an autistic partner

Requested? Yes!

Genre: just a ton of comfort

Seungcheol 

Totally lets you practice conversations with him. It took a single time of you being anxious about making what feels like a simple phone call and he’s getting to the bottom of it. When you tell him that sometimes you’re intimidated by carrying conversation and tend to overthink it, he simply asks you to pretend it’s with him. You think he might make fun of you, but he’s gentle about guiding you in what to say to certain things. Now it’s common practice to ask him to rehearse something with you before you do it, but if it ever gets to be too much, he’ll just pick up the phone and make the call for you, no problem.

Jeonghan

Now this is a guy who has an emotional support sword, so he totally gets the need to fidget. It’s grounding and helps him focus, so when you’re out to dinner with friends and he notices you’re not really present, he’ll put an extra straw or chopstick in your hands to twirl. When you ask him later how he knew what you needed, he brushes you off. He’ll always find you something to fidget with, even if it’s his own hand or hoodie string. You find yourself just reaching for him rather than anything else if you feel that particular feeling coming on, and it makes him smile that you feel comfortable depending on him like that.

Joshua

I’m so sorry, but I just love the idea of Joshua being kind of crafty. He notices you’re feeling a little overstimulated one day and pulls you to the table, putting a coloring book and colored pencils in front of you. You look at him, almost offended, because you are an adult, damn it!!! But he asks you to humor him, picking out two pages, one for you and one for him. It does wonders, giving you something to focus on in a time of internal chaos. You lose a lot of time to it and when you finally check back in, he’s smiling lovingly at you, asking if you feel a little better. It’s a regular habit now to sit and do something like this just because and you’re touched that he seems to enjoy it as much as you do.

Jun

He notices that sometimes you’re avoidant of conversation with others, and one time he asks why. You admit that sometimes you feel like you misread or totally miss social cues and facial expressions and it makes you anxious thinking about how you might butcher a seemingly simple conversation. But listen. He’s the perfect person to tell this to. Sometimes, before bed, he’ll make faces at you, sometimes subtle and sometimes not, and then ask you to read them. You’re embarrassed by this at first, but eventually you come around to this little game because he’s so gentle about guiding you, telling you what to look for. Furrowed eyebrows = confused or angry. Blushing = embarrassed or shy. Tight jaw = stressed or angry. It lets you learn it in a safe environment and you find that the longer you do it, the more comfortable you are in conversation in daily life.

Hoshi

This is so simple. He’s a yapper!! He’ll do all the talking in social settings and doesn’t force you to participate. If you do happen to be pulled into conversation, he’s quick to give you an encouraging smile, but he’s also quick to give you an escape by changing the subject if he can tell today is just not the day. But at home, he’s the listener because he always tries to find the things that you like to yap about. He’s aware that you do a lot of listening in day to day life, and in the privacy of your home, it’s his turn to listen. 

Wonwoo

Whereas Joshua helps you find hyper fixations, Wonwoo helps you control how much time and energy you lose to those hyper fixations. Interests are good, he tells you, and he’d never change anything about you, but he will not let you stay up all night. He will not let you skip a meal. He will not let you forget the important things. Oh, don’t get me wrong, he’s so so gentle about it. It’s all ‘Baby, come eat and tell me about it’, or ‘Baby, come to bed and tell me about it’, or ‘Baby, you need to go get ready for work, but tell me all about it later, okay?’. It brings balance to your life that you didn't realize you desperately needed. 

Woozi

Cliche, I know, but his studio is his hide out from the rest of the world. The catch is that it can also be yours. Sometimes, it’s nice to just come in and disassociate for a while after an overwhelming day and he lets you do it in total silence with headphones on if you want. But sometimes, he’ll pull you over to sit next to him and put his headphones on you to listen to something he’s working on. One time, you told him that you found his music and his voice relaxing, so he thinks about that when he makes what he makes. He likes that you use it for comfort and it motivates him. 

DK

You’re putting off doing something like going to the post office to mail something. Seokmin notices that this package has been sitting there for a while and asks you about it. When you admit that you don’t know how the whole post office thing works, he asks you to explain what you mean. Kind of embarrassed, you admit that you don’t understand the structure of it. Where’s the line? What do you say when you get up to the front? What kind of questions might they ask? Is there anything you should be asking them for? This sweet, sweet man makes you get up and physically act the whole thing out with him in the comfort of your living room without a single laugh. You’re still nervous the next day when you go and finally mail this stupid package out, but Seokmin enthusiastically cheers you on when he notices it’s gone later that night. 

Mingyu

He notices a few quirks since living with you. For example, you can’t simply do the dishes. When he asks why you unloaded the dishwasher, but didn’t empty the sink, he isn’t trying to be mean, but he doesn’t understand when you say it’s too big of a job to do in one go. He asks what you mean, and you explain that it’s not just ‘doing the dishes’ for you. It’s unloading the dishwasher, and putting the clean dishes away, then loading the dishwasher with dirty dishes and getting into the cabinet to get detergent and fill the little compartment with it. Then it’s starting the dishwasher and putting back the detergent, only to have to do it all again tomorrow. His eyes widen a bit at your rant, but then he sweetly says, ‘Okay, baby. Do it however you need to’. He’ll never say anything about it again, but it doesn’t stop him from just doing the dishes amongst other chores himself the next day because he doesn’t want you to stress about it like that. 

Minghao

One time, after not seeing you for a little bit due to busy schedules, Minghao asks how you’re doing. You say you don’t know. He quirks his eyebrow. “Don’t know as in Not Good?” You shake your head. “No, I just don’t know.” He carefully asks questions, seeking to understand, and realizes it’s not that you don’t feel anything. You just don’t really know how to put a name to it. After that, some date nights feel a little bit like therapy, just short of the ‘and how did that make you feel?’ For example, you tell him about a rough meeting at work that day and he asks, “Did you feel frustrated by it?” You think and finally say, “Yeah, maybe”. Over time, it turns into an ‘I think I’m frustrated’ and then finally a definitive ‘I’m frustrated’. He’s really proud that you can express yourself more clearly because that means he can help you more.

Seungkwan

You don’t do well with change, and he totally understands it. When he goes away for work, he understands that it breaks your routine in a lot of ways. He starts by giving you a heads up as soon as he knows that some travel is coming up, putting it on a shared calendar - both physical and electronic. In the weeks ahead of this trip, he’s reminding you gently, “I leave in a couple weeks”. It’s not to be mean, anything but. It’s to help you mentally prepare for the incoming change. He helps you in little ways in those couple weeks, making sure you have your alarm set automatically, making a meal plan to stick on the fridge and scheduling a grocery delivery with everything you’ll need for it, putting gas in your car in case you need to use it, etc. He also asks you what you’d like to do with your down time while he’s gone, suggesting a binge of a book or TV series that you liked before. He knows you’re not a child and would never treat you as such, but he wants you to feel comfortable going about life as usual when he has to be gone and can’t be there to do those little things for you himself. So he does everything he can to make sure that everything else is as routine as possible. 

Vernon

One of the things he loves most about you is that you guys can just coexist in the same space in total silence. It’s not unusual for you both to sit on opposite ends of the couch, headphones on, doing your own thing. And sometimes, he knows this is your preference to not really talk out loud. Still, he’ll text you to check in, even if you’re just a few feet away from him. Sometimes you have entire conversations through text like this and he really, truly doesn’t mind. There’s something intimate about it for him in a way he can’t really explain, and he likes that you’re comfortable with that mode of communication, even if you’ve had a hard day. Yeah, you’ll have to pry his phone from his cold, dead hands for this reason alone. 

Chan

One night, you tell him you’re feeling pretty anxious. He doesn’t ask why, but he can tell your nervous energy isn’t going to just go away anytime soon. So, he offers for you two to go to the gym. You gape at him. “It's the middle of the night, Chan.” “And the gym is open 24 hours. It’ll probably be empty. Let’s give it a try, maybe you can work off some of your energy.” Midnight trips to the gym are a regular thing for you guys now, because he was totally right. It’s usually empty and it does help shut off your brain enough to go home and get some sleep. You feel bad about it sometimes because of the hours he keeps for his job, but he won’t hear anything about it because he’ll go with you to do anything to put your mind at ease. 

[bokutosbabe]

It Always Leads To You

( bllk boys as situationships )

a/n — girl whose never had a situationship writing about them? what could go wrong? (they progressively get longer lol)

content — some nsfw but not explicit, pining, GN! reader, some characters repeated, all characters are 18 or 18+

synopsis — what kind of situationship the bllk boys would be

⋆.˚✮🎧✮˚.⋆ ' and the heart i'm breaking is my own ' ⋆.˚✮🎧✮˚.⋆

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ the... ' but you're best friends! '

you'd rather spend money on a hotel than stay at home 24/7 for the next week. how could you walk into your house when you knew he'd be there, chatting with you family as if nothing had changed?

maybe you should've pretended you had to work.

that would have saved you the grief of having to see, who was supposed to be, your best friend. how could you face him when the last thing you two talked about was being a couple and that...not going as planned.

well, maybe that wasn't the last thing you two talked about with each other. however, does defiling your families bathroom really count as 'talking'? ( most awkward easter ever afterwards ) you didn't really think so.

whatever, he was a pro-soccer player now, he may not even be at home this christmas. you'd just have to put up with his family, who you'd always loved, and then you could go home and avoid the situation until the next big holiday.

but of course, when you stepped into your childhood home you realized that you'd never get that lucky. there he was, just as handsome as ever, sitting on your families couch.

in your eyes, he looked like he belonged with your family more than you, but you supposed he earned that. he came home every holiday, unlike you who continuously came up with different reasons to stay as far away as possible.

if you left now, maybe no one would know you'd even shown up-

" woah, y/n! it's you! " or...maybe not. " i haven't seen you in forever, what have you been up to? " the voice that plagued your every waking thought crashed its way into your ears.

your best friend ( could you even call him that anymore? were you still his best friend? ) got up from his spot on the couch to come wrap his arms around you in a hug that felt more like home than home did.

" i've missed you, ya know? " he whispered in your ear, hands caressing your back in what felt like much more than what a 'friends' hug would be.

just a week. you could survive and coexist with him for a week. your resolve to never sleep with him set in stone now.

you just wished your resolve wouldn't have crumbled only two days later while your family was downstairs watching christmas movies.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ REO MIKAGE, isagi yoichi, AIKU OLIVER, rensuke kunigami, TOBITO KARASU

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ the ' you cannot date them '

you’re a good person... or at least, you want to believe that. But how can you when your best friend sits in front of you now, talking about their ex?

she’s raving about how much she misses him, how everything fell apart at the worst time, how she’s still holding onto the hope that maybe they can fix things.

you try to smile and nod, pretending that you’re not dying inside. how can you even look her in the eye when he’s blowing up your phone right now? when you know exactly how he feels about you?

“it’s just so messed up, right?” she laughs nervously, like this is all just a bad breakup, nothing that can’t be smoothed over. “i’m not even sure what I’m supposed to do anymore.”

she doesn’t know that you already did something. You already did the one thing that could ruin everything. the one thing that she told you you could never do.

your phone continuously buzzing while she's talking, hoping she wouldn't notice you reach for it to silence it while she takes a sip of her drink.

your phone vibrates again, and you try not to look at it. you’re not sure if you’re worried that she’ll see, or that you’ll see what he’s saying. you’re scared of both.

him <3 ; are we still on for tonight? can’t wait to see you.

that familiar ache forms in your chest, and you can feel the betrayal to your friend, the confusion about your own feelings, but worse—there’s nothing you can do about it. you keep smiling, even though it feels like your heart’s sinking with every word your friend says.

" god, if you don't want to listen to me, just say so. " your friend says coldly. " i would have turned off my phone if it was you crying right now. "

" sorry, it's just my mom...talking about some new present she wants to get my brother. " you apologized. "oh, okay. is your brother a cutie?" you didn't even have a brother, showed how much she knew about you.

“whatever, what should i do?" your friend asks, her eyes bright with hope (or maybe delusion). "do you think I should text him? do you think we could still fix things?”

you want so badly to tell her the truth.

you want to be honest, to say what she needs to hear so that she doesn’t get her hopes up.

you want to tell her that he is already texting you, that maybe you are the reason he won’t talk to her.

but instead, you bite your lip and offer a shrug. "i don't know, honestly. maybe he needs time to figure out what he wants too."

"he doesn't need time. he needs me." she mused, staring at you like your answer was just the stupidest thing she'd heard all day. "no wonder you've never dated anyone, who'd like a ditz like you?"

The whole time, your phone is buzzing, buzzing, buzzing, like a constant reminder of your lie.

you; see you tonight :)

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ OTOYA EITA, ikki niko, RANZE KURONA, reo mikage, RYUSEI SHIDO

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧the... ' you'll never be first '

he's leaving soon, and you feel like you're dying.

you’d known for a long time that ‘casually’ seeing a pro soccer player would only lead to being left alone, especially someone like him—someone whose work always came first, and whose heart was as unreachable as the trophies he collected.

he’d said it more times than you could count: “love doesn’t come before soccer. It never will.” and you’d laughed, maybe even agreed at some point, understanding it was just the way things were.

so why does it feel like you’re drowning now, with him leaving just around the corner.

it doesn’t make sense. you’d known the deal from the start.

still, here you are—sitting in his bed, in the quiet of his room, the familiar hum of the city outside reminding you of how little time you really have left with him.

his suitcase is by the door, already half-packed, his jersey draped over the chair where he’d left it, as if he couldn't get out of here fast enough.

you’re almost sick to your stomach at the thought of him walking out that door in just a few days, never looking back.

you’ve spent enough time with him to know that when he leaves, he doesn’t look back. he doesn't look back at stadiums once he walks out, and he wouldn't look back at you either.

"it’s only a few months," he’d said, trying to make you feel better when the topic of him leaving first got brought up. “i’ll be back before you know it.”

but that’s not the point.

it’s never been the point.

you know he’ll be busy with games, traveling, sponsors,...women, all the things that make him too far to reach.

and yet, here you are, sitting in his bed, heart pounding, overwhelmed with the thought of it all ending. you thought you could handle this.

you thought you could be just another notch in his belt. but the truth is, you’ve been fooling yourself. you care too much. you’ve fallen for him, hard, and the worst part is—he doesn’t even realize it.

or maybe he does. maybe he’s known all along, and you were too scared to admit it.

the sound of his voice pulls you from your thoughts.

"hey, you okay?"

you glance over at him, watching him fiddle with his phone, one hand propped up on the headboard. his eyes meet yours, something in them that almost makes you believe he could stay. maybe, you're enough of a reason for him to stay where he is now.

but he won’t. you know that. his life is bigger than you. bigger than this city, this bed, and every memory you’ve shared together.

you nod, forcing a smile, trying to keep the strange bitterness from slipping into your voice.

"yeah, just thinking."

"don’t think too much." his lips curl up into that calming grin that’s made you feel better on several occasions. how could something that used to calm you make you feel like your heart was in your throat? “you’ll drive yourself crazy.”

it’s easy for him to say that. he’s used to moving on. he’s used to leaving. you? you're used to him being here.

his fingers tap absently against the screen of his phone. you can see the notifications lighting up—his agent, a few teammates, probably his parents, all reminding you of the inevitable: he’s leaving soon.

you want to scream. you want to ask him why he doesn’t care. why it’s so easy for him to slip away from everyone who loves him.

but instead, you pull your knees to your chest and keep your eyes fixed on him, as if the longer you look, you could magically gain telepathy to make him want to stay with you.

"how’s your flight looking?" you ask, hoping his answer would be that he cancelled it.

"all set."

and you can't breathe.

the casualness in his voice is what stings the most. the way he talks about leaving as if it’s just another day at the office, another game to be played.

he doesn’t get how you feel. maybe he can’t. maybe he’s just too busy not feeling anything.

The silence is deafening.

"do you... do you ever wish you could just stay?"

It’s a question you didn’t mean to ask, but it escapes before you can stop it.

You wish you could take it back the second it leaves your lips.

he looks up at you, and for the briefest moment, his eyes soften. for one second, he looks like he is completely and utterly yours.

he sets his phone down, sliding it onto the bedside table, then turns his full attention to you.

"i told you, didn’t i? love doesn’t come before soccer."

The words hit you like a train, but it’s not the truth that hurts—it’s the way he says it, like it’s not up for debate. as if it’s always been this way, and it always will be.

why can't he just try? just try to come home every so often...to you.

you feel like a fool. as if you've put your heart on display for him just to not even glance your way.

you know where you stand, even if it’s tearing you apart.

he doesn’t lie to you, doesn’t promise you things he can’t give, and maybe that's why you fell for him in the first place—he was the first person who didn’t play games with you.

"i’m gonna miss you," you say quietly, knowing that admitting it aloud makes it even worse.

his eyes flicker with something, but it’s gone as quickly as it came. he shifts, pulling his knees up to match yours, as if to say he’s close, but still so far. he rests his head back against the headboard.

and for a moment, you almost forget he’s leaving. you forget about the suitcase by the door. you forget about the plane ticket he has. you forget that in just a few days he wont be yours anymore.

"i’ll miss you too," he says softly.

but that’s it. that’s all he says. it’s not a promise, not a declaration. just another passing remark to fill the silence.

he doesn't mean it. it's more of a kindness thing for him to say it back.

you can feel the weight of everything unsaid.

you realize—he doesn’t know how much you care. He can’t understand you.

he’s never been asked to stay.

you’re not even sure you’d want him to. you can’t ask him to change his life for you. and you couldn't keep up with the lifestyle he lives.

the idea of him walking away—of losing him to something bigger, to something you’ll never be able to keep—feels like it will break you.

so you just lie down on his bed, for the last time, you tell yourself.

'after tonight, he'll be free of me'

after tonight, you'd walk out that door and not look back.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ITOSHI RIN, nagi seishiro, SAE ITOSHI, isagi yoichi, RENSUKE KUNIGAMI

⋆.˚✮🎧✮˚.⋆ ' to leave the warmest bed i've ever known ' ⋆.˚✮🎧✮˚.⋆

[ + your faves ! ]

again, i've never experienced this, so i hope the research i've done (looking up different types of situationships) has done it justice!

likes, comments, and reblogs appreciated!

[imsuperhungry]

the game

The living room is dim, with a few soft, scattered lights casting a cozy glow. Your mom is sprawled on the couch, casually lounging and watching what you can only assume is Grey’s Anatomy. You chuckle to yourself, wondering why she’s so hooked on that predictable show.

The soft thud of your shoes on the carpet makes her turn her head, catching you just as you reach for the door. Her eyes narrow playfully, and you can feel her watching you, even from her cozy spot on the couch.

“Just to make sure—you’ve got your taser with you, right?” she asks, her motherly instincts kicking in as she gives you a careful once-over. You can see the hint of worry in her eyes, not quite ready to let her daughter head out alone.

"Yes, Mom," you say with a little giggle, rolling your eyes. You remember the day she handed you the tiny pink taser, tucked in a shiny metal case, and told you to keep it close whenever you're out alone. "You never know what could happen," she’d warned, especially since things can go wrong even when you're not alone.

“Just trying to make sure, baby,” she says softly, standing up and coming over to where you stand by the couch. Once she’s in front of you, she gently cups your face, her thumbs brushing tenderly across your cheeks. Her gaze is soft, filled with all the love and care only a mom could have.

“Mom,” you whine, even though you secretly love her coddling. Still, you really don’t want to be late—your first date has to start off perfectly!

“Okay, okay!” she exclaims, hands raised in mock surrender, as if proving her innocence. She flashes you one last smile, and you can see the wheels turning in her head as a new idea begins to form.

“Maybe,” she starts, her voice teasing, “when you get back, you can tell me if he’s a good kisser!” she adds with a playful giggle. "I could totally grab us some ice cream, your favorite takeout, and we can talk about him all night long!" she squeals, her excitement bubbling up at the thought of the perfect evening ahead.

With a dramatic sigh, you roll your eyes, pretending to be annoyed. "Fine! Fine, if you insist, Mom!" you say, but the mask of frustration slips away as a grin spreads across your face. The thought of a cozy night in with her fills you with excitement too.

"Great! Well, I guess I'll see you when you get back, honey," she says, walking you to the door. You spin around, and she plants a sweet kiss on your cheek in the doorframe, pausing for a moment to take one last look at you. A warm feeling of pride swells in her chest—you’d grown up so much.

You glance at the time, realizing you should’ve left three minutes ago. With a quiet, frustrated “Shit!” you dash to your car, hoping you can still make it on time.

You yank open the door and squeeze your way inside, twisting the key into the ignition. As the engine hums to life, you quickly glance at the window, checking that your look is up to par. The darkness outside makes it easier, especially with the soft glow of the dashboard lights barely illuminating the space around you.

You finally pull out of your driveway and head to the skatepark Seb instructed you to drive to. He had originally wanted to meet at his house, but then his mom and hyper cousins showed up, and he said they would "ruin the mood.”

As you drive out of the neighborhood, you turn the radio up to kill the silence hanging in the car. The moment you twist the knob, you hear your absolute favorite song playing, and it instantly slaps a smile on your face as you cruise down the road.

After enough red lights to make you want to pull your hair out, you finally arrive at the park. The moment you see it, a sketchy feeling creeps up on you. The place is empty and completely closed off from any late-night visitors. You furrow your eyebrows in confusion—what exactly is Seb planning to do at a closed-off skatepark?

You silently thank your mom for forcing you to bring the taser; it provides a small sense of security as you step out of the now-turned-off vehicle.

You glance behind you and notice two other cars parked far apart from each other, clearly indicating that the drivers don’t know each other. Upon a closer look, you recognize the car closest to you as Seb’s, meaning he’s already at the park.

You quickly send him a text, asking where he is, feeling a bit uneasy standing alone in the dark, empty parking lot.

Almost instantly, Seb sends you a text, practically commanding you to stay in the parking lot—he’ll be the one to come and get you.

"Okay," you reply to his last text. "But pleassseee hurry, I'm sooo colddd," you add, hoping he’ll pick up the pace.

"You didn't bring a jacket, doofus?" he replies, making a grin sneak onto your face.

"...No," you admit, already knowing he’d warned you that the night would be way colder than the day.

“Dumbass,” was his last message before you turned off your phone. You giggle to yourself, then start to admire the nature around you, taking in the quiet stillness of the night.

Winter nights were almost coming to an end, and the bitter temperatures were slowly fading, which made you happy. Sure, winter was amazing, but once Christmas was over, the cold started to get old.

The once bare trees were beginning to bloom in beautiful hues of red, green, and yellow. The leaves were still sparse, but their delicate colors were more than enough to make you feel much happier with the surroundings.

You're snapped out of your tranquil state by a sudden tap on your shoulder. Instinctively, you reach into your bag, your hand immediately finding the small handheld taser. Without hesitation, you point it toward the person who just brushed against your shoulder.

Only to recognize the familiar messy heaps of hair, the big eyes staring back at you, and the pale, veiny hands raised in the air to show they meant no harm.

"Oh shit, sorry Seb," you say, bashfully tossing the taser back into your bag. Your face heats with embarrassment. So much for a good start to a date.

"You just carry a fucking weapon with you at all times?" he asks, his voice cracking in shock.

"What, better safe than sorry, no?" you reply, regaining your composure.

After a moment of awkward silence, neither of you could contain the laughter bubbling up in your throats. You both immediately doubled over in laughter, the tension melting away.

After a minute or so of giggling, he looks at you with a playful grin and says, "Can't wait to tell everyone that you almost shot me on our first date." His voice is light and teasing, and his eyes twinkle with that dreamy, mischievous spark that makes your heart flutter. You roll your eyes and laugh, teasing him right back. "You shouldn't have run up on me like that, you scared the fuck out of me!"

He looks down and laughs some more before locking eyes with you.

"I was gonna tickle you," he says, a playful grin spreading across his face.

"I'll fucking kill you," you say, locking eyes with him. Your playful tone has vanished, replaced by a more serious look

“oh.”

After a few seconds of silence, you smile and suddenly run up to him.

"Let's go skate, hm?" you say, your voice light as you sprint toward the park, excitement bubbling up inside you.

All you hear is his ugly laughing (which you secretly find adorably cute) behind you as he follows along, the sound making your smile grow even wider.

After a few rounds of trial and error, with him patiently teaching you how to use the skateboard, you finally manage to land a few basic moves. It’s a little wobbly at first, but the thrill of getting it right feels amazing.

Under the soft glow of the streetlights, you sink into the warmth of the bench, leaning against each other as you share a cigarette. The night wraps around you like a soft blanket, the air filled with a gentle stillness.

There are no words exchanged, but the silence feels perfectly at ease, a comfortable pause that allows you to savor the quiet intimacy of the moment, just enjoying each other’s company under the stars.

You roll your eyes at him, unable to suppress a smile that breaks across your face like the dawn. There’s something infectious about his laughter, and you feel a warm flutter in your chest, the kind that comes from sharing a moment of lightness under the stars.

“Anyway, should we get up?” you ask, looking at him with a playful smile.

“Yeah, sure,” he replies, pressing the glowing cigarette bud against the ground and stepping on it with a decisive motion.

You place a foot on the skateboard, concentrating on finding your balance as you look down at your feet. Just as you start to get the hang of it, you feel a gentle tap on your shoulder from in front of you. Curiosity sparks within you as you glance up, turning to see who has interrupted your moment of focus.

You widen your eyes and snap your head up for the second time that night, your heart quickening as you take in the sight of a girl who looks strikingly familiar. There’s something about her that tugs at your memory, but you can’t quite place where you’ve seen her before. She stands there with a curious smile on her face, and you find yourself searching your mind for the connection.

“Uh, yes?” you ask her, your confusion evident as you try to place her in your memory.

“I think you’re the girl I called pretty at the game we had last week,” she says, her smile widening as she speaks.

You begin to recall the girl who had called you pretty in the locker room after your last game, and the memory stirs something warm inside you.

“Ohhh, yeah, that’s me,” you say, your voice warm with recognition. “Uh, what do you need?” you ask, trying to sound polite while your mind races with curiosity about why she’s here now.

“Well, my boyfriend, my friend, and her boyfriend are all here tonight, so we were wondering if you’d want to come with us?” she replies, her eyes sparkling with excitement.

By now, Sebastian is standing next to you, listening intently as she speaks.

You glance over at him, about to reply. “Uh, sur—”

“No thanks, we’re about to leave anyway,” he interjects, cutting you off with a firm but gentle tone. He then grabs your hand, clutching the skateboard with his other, and begins to pull you both away from the moment, leaving the invitation behind as you step into the night together.

When you reach the parking lot, you turn to Sebastian, curiosity bubbling up inside you. “Why didn’t you want to hang out with them?”

He looks at you, a thoughtful expression on his face. “I just wanted it to be the two of us. I felt like they would have ruined the whole date,” he explains, and you can feel a blush creeping onto your cheeks at his words.

“Okay,” you say, trying to hide your smile. “Well, there’s the diner we usually stop by at. Wanna go?” you ask, hopeful for more time just the two of you.

[specsthesecond]

°❆⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❆⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❆⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❆⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°

You wake up in the comfort of your home, snuggled in thick fluffy sheets. Despite the cold, birds still chirp outside advising you to start your day already. You stay in bed a little longer today, staring out the window, trying to get a hold of your thoughts.

It's been a good few days since you left that Orcs house, a few days to think about the experience and mull over what to do next.

You jolt out of your thoughts when you see, out the window, quick anxious scampering behind the snow covered bushes. Jumping out of bed, you hastily get dressed, fumbling with your boots and grabbing your trusty bow hanging by the door and a few arrows. You peek outside, sneaking as quietly as possible on the old wooden floor of the stoop, arrow already notched against the bowstring. You can only see the critters ears, twitching, listening for any trouble. It's either a rabbit or a hare, you hope for the latter.

You wait there for a good fifteen minutes, bow strung, waiting for the thing to move just a little to the left of the bush for a better shot. Your fingers burn on the string, didn't have time to grab your gloves. The second it hops slightly out of the bush, you let go of the arrow and send it flying right into the cotton tailed critter.

When you step back inside your warm cottage, you make a beeline for the kitchen with the hare in your hand. It's quite a lucky catch, a large jack. You use this as an excuse, you actually come up with plenty excuses while you prepare a hearty stew. "There's so much meat here, it would be wrong not to share." "If I don't repay him, it'll weigh on me for far too long." "I need to bring him his flask back." "I need a good hike anyway."

Stupid rationales for the absurd idea you have conjured up. Nevertheless, you get out your fanciest ceramic pot and cook your best hare stew. You fret, far more than you'd admit, over how little ingredients you have due to the winter. Come afternoon, and you're trekking the woods, past the Human territory and into unwelcomed lands. You clutch the handle of the basket holding your steaming pot of stew tightly inside and his flask, which you filled with your favourite Red bush tea. This is just so you're even and then you never have to think about this Orc ever again.

Somewhere in your mind you know that's not true, You'll never be able to forget what happened. You were content in your woods, pretending you weren't lonely, why has this Orc changed that? It was easy pushing the cravings down before why is the hunger suddenly so present, so consuming.

You eventually step into the clearing where his home lies, Your thoughts continue to meander as your feet take you straight to the steps into his home. Now, you can't just leave it out for him but you can't just knock on the door and run away either...

You knock on the door three times, taking a deep breath and then cursing yourself for needing to do that. What if he doesn't want to see you again? Sure, he saved you from dying but that doesn't mean he'd want you in his home ag-

The door opens slowly, it takes you a minute to look up from the stone floor of the small veranda but when you do, it's those same dark brown eyes looking back at you. He looks shocked to see you, you expected as much. After a few awkward moments of staring, you hold the basket up with both hands, opening the top to reveal the red ceramic pot and his flask. He looks down at the parcel with a rather blank expression and it makes your skin crawl with anxiety. You gesture for him to take the basket and he quickly, with frustratingly gentle hands, takes it from you. He takes a peek inside the pot, letting the built-up steam poor out and his eyes grow even wider, you can't tell if he likes it or not and it's killing you.

Of course he didn't want to see you. The last time you were together he woke up to you, a stranger, on top of him watching him sleep! Your face is hot with shame, you turn to leave but then hear him say something in Orcish, you turn around to face him. You're a little taken back to see the hopeful look in his eyes as he holds the door open for you, waiting for you to accept his invitation.

Timidly, you step inside. Being here again sends a shiver down your spine. The Orc gently rests the basket on his little (in comparison to him) living room table, then heads to the kitchen. He comes back with a tray of two bowls, two mugs and cutlery. It shocks you how easily you take his silent invitation to stay for dinner as you both set the table as if it's a normal thing for basically strangers to do. While he dishes up hearty portions of steamy stew in rather large bowls, you pour the red tinted tea into the two mugs he brought.

You sit down on opposite sides of the wooden table and dig in. The spoon, like the bowl, is rather big and made out of what appears to be a hard dark wood. As you taste your stew, doubts trickle into your mind. Is it too runny? Is the meat too tough? Do Orcs prefer tougher meat? Is it too bland for him?

The scrape of his chair on the floor interrupts your thoughts and you look up at him. He's scooping up more stew with the serving spoon and plopping it into his empty bowl. You stare at him bewildered, he's already going for seconds. How did he even swallow all that so fast?

He notices you staring and looks embarrassed, like he's done something wrong. You shake your head lightly and gesture for him to continue. He smiles rather bashfully for an Orc and plops another spoon full onto his heaped bowl. You hide the smile that creeps onto your face behind a hot mug of tea.

After the pot has been thoroughly emptied and your stomachs are full, he starts clearing up his side of the table. You go to follow but he swiftly takes your bowl from you, sets it on the tray with everything else and walks off to the kitchen. For a second you sit rather dumbly at the empty table, the sound of splashing water comes from the kitchen as you look around the Orc's abode.

Your eyes are drawn to a packed bookshelf in the corner, you try not to be that impressed that an Orc would willingly read so many books. You imagine you would be pretty insulted if someone said that about you, and you know full well that reading is a lovely way to pass the time in such a quiet life as yours and his.

He steps back into the room holding two mugs of what was left of the tea, you suppose that means he likes it? He places them on the small table in front of the couch and takes a seat. He doesn't show any indication that he expects you to sit with him but you find yourself sinking down next to him anyway.

He picks up a little book on the low table and pages through it, it's green with bold Orcish on the front. You try to seem uninterested with what he's doing, staring down at your tea until he shuffles closer to you, pointing to a specific page in the book. You scrunch your eyebrows and lean closer, reading the text he's pointing to.

"Thank you."

Your breath catches and you read further down the page, seeing bold Orcish words followed by Human Common words.

It's a translation book.

You laugh (more like wheeze) in surprise and disbelief. The Orc looks nervous, looking back at the book to make sure he pointed to the right word. You gently take the book from him and page through it, searching.

After quite a while you finally find it, in what you assume is the "Helpful phrases" section and point it out for him.

"You're welcome."

He lets out a hearty laugh and you grin at the sound. You made him laugh. His eyes crinkle, deepening the crows feet just above his cheeks which seem a darker green than before.

After that you sit together in quiet comfort, drinking the rest of your tea and peeking at the words in his book as he pages through the translations. The book is new, the spine isn't creased from use and the pages are still firm and fresh. Did he get this book because of you?

The thought stirs something strange in your belly and you can't tell if you should invite it in or reject it. Your eyes shift to the window near the door and you jump when you see the sun is setting. How has it been that long?

You rise from the couch and grab your basket, shoving your now clean ceramic pot into it. The Orc looks at you confused, looks towards the window, and then shoots up himself, quickly heading to the kitchen. You shrug your fur coat on at the door and wait patiently for him to return, basket in hand.

He returns with the same flask he gave you the last time you left in a hurry. He may be even more bashful this time he hands it to you and you don't need to open it to know what's inside. You nod your head again in thanks and he smiles wider than you'd think an Orc capable, if you hadn't met him, that is.

You walk out of his house, flask tucked in your basket. When you reach the end of the clearing you turn around and there he is, standing on the veranda watching you leave. You hesitate for a moment and then give him a little wave goodbye. He returns it with his own.

As you walk through thick trees you wonder if the nearby human village has a book vendor. Not for any particular reason.

°❆⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❆⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❆⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❆⋆.ೃ࿔:･°

<- Previous

[kaisaerinlover]

alexis ness

tw: yandere themes , kidnapping

alexis ness, before if you heard that name all you would feel is endearment and love, your childhood best friend ness. he was always so sweet, and he still is, kinda? you guess? you’re not really sure. what are you supposed to make of him now? this isn’t the ness you once knew and loved? i mean, was he always like this? the type to tie you up and keep you locked away in his bedroom like a sick version of a disney princess? did you miss the signs? seriously, what the fuck is going on right now?

you and ness grew up alongside each other, childhood best friends. your parents had both joked that you guys would get married, but being kids you never understood that. or you didn’t, only you, because from what he did now you’re sure he always knew the implications of that. you feel betrayed really, how could he do this? you and him spent hours together as children, since his parents were so busy. you remember playing in the streets of hamburg pretending you have magic powers, just being children. you miss those days so much, because whatever is going on now is just messed up, wrong. what changed?

well, now that you think back on it, in highschool guys did avoid you a lot, until ness left. it was weird, but you didn’t think too much of it. was that seriously his doing? did he get guys to stay away from you in some sick act of possession? you’re sick to your stomach. there were so many signs that you missed that he was… like this. is there even a word for this other than deranged or psychotic? you could almost throw up, almost, and the silence in the room whilst ness is out practicing is ironically killing your ears. you almost miss him, almost, because he’s been gone for so long you’re losing your mind. your just tied up sitting on his bed.

as you fidget around with the rope constricting your hands, you find a loose part. yes!!!!! yesyesyesyesyes!!! you scream internally, you begin shaking your wrists a little, trying to free your hands and then the rest of your body. you can feel the binds starting to loosen and they’re almost off. just a little more. almost there almost ther-

he’s back, he pushes open the door to his bedroom. “i’m home engel!!!” he says so characteristically cheerful of him. you’re so… so… you were so close…? how is he so fucking cheerful right now. you’re biting your tears back, blinking rapidly as to not cry, as he just walks over to you and mindlessly starts babbling about his day whilst stroking your hair. what the fuck? this is so unfair. this is so fucking unfair. you were so fucking close.

“…and then kaiser scored, it was soo cool!!! how was your day? did you miss me?” he looks at you dead in the eyes, you used to find his smile cute. now it’s just… unsettling. alexis ness is truly sunshine in a bottle. if the sunshine was crazy. and had eyes that bore right into your very being. and a smile that’s a little too big for your liking. and barely blinked. and- “well? did you?” he’s still looking at you with that humongous smile. jeez it’s uncanny. you gulp nervously and nod your head, not trusting your voice to not shake if you verbalise the (kind of) lie. he laughs at that and comforts you “well i’m here now!!” you’re still tied up, well kind of, the rope is all loose, you might still have a chance of getting away from this sicko.

“do you want me to untie you?” he muses. no? don’t, don’t, he’s going to see that you almost escaped. but if you say no, that would be weird? just try anyway. “uhm- n-no thanks alexis- i don’t mind being all- like- tied- it’s nice i guess?” you give him your fakest smile and bat your eyes, partially to be cute and partially to not cry. he simply just laughs at you, “oh baby you’re too cute! of course i’ll untie you, i’m home now, and you won’t be able to get away. and you didn’t even try to get away. ah, i guess that means you looove me doesn’t it, liebling?” fuck. no. now you even feel a little guilty, he seems so fucking happy. fuck you alexis ness.

as he goes to begin untying you he realises that his ropes are so loose now around your wrists. he freezes, hovering over your shoulder hands on your wrists. it’s scary, he’s not even moving, what the fuck? your heart is going erratic in your chest, it might rip out of the confines of your ribcage and onto alexis’ bed. “you tried to leave me, didn’t you?” he still hasn’t moved. “oh- well- no? w-why would i- i do that?” you try to sound as convincing as you can, but you know it’s fruitless. and you’re fucking scared. as kids, you always pulled stuff like this, when you were first getting into magic. you guys watched an escape artist in the streets and thought it was so cool, how did he get out of those binds? maybe ness will just see it as that and everything will be okay! yes; that’s exactly what’s going to happen, you shouldn’t stress yourself!

his head sinks into your shoulder and you feel him scowl. “how could you try to leave? don’t you like me? don’t you remember all the time we spent together as kids? how come you don’t love me anymore? when we were younger you said you loved me, did you stop loving me? what did i do wrong” he hits you with too many questions at once, and you don’t know what to do. you did say you loved him as kids, and you still do a little, but you miss the ness you thought you knew, this isn’t the alexis you knew and loved. you almost had a crush on him in highschool, almost. but he moved away to focus on soccer more. maybe if he never left, you would be in a normal relationship right now, not this scenario ripped straight out of a 12 year olds wattpad story. you’re not exactly scared of him hurting you, you know he wouldn’t ever do that. but since when did he get so… needy? was he always this insecure? you don’t ponder on it, because you already missed so many signs of him being completely and utterly crazy, you’re just not sure what to do, or say.

“ah- uhm- ness- it’s okay, sorry, i just really needed to go to the bathroom…? so i was- trying to like get untied i guess. sorry” you murmur out. fingers crossed he’ll believe it. he’s still quiet, head resting on your shoulder looking out into the rest of his bedroom. your heart is racing, your blood has probably circulated ten times that of the distance of a normal marathon around your body by now. man, you haven’t wished this since you got here, but can he just talk to you? say something maybe? he would never hurt you, he’s too sweet, but even you’re starting to doubt it now. the lack of communication is terrifying in this moment.

he just looks up after a while and smiles at you. “oh okay, i knew you’d never do that to me anyway! next time i’ll get you an ankle chain, so you can still go to the bathroom, would you prefer that?” he’s still smiling up at you from your shoulder. what is with this guy? how did his mood change so fast? you were sure he was about to rip your throat out just moments before. gosh, how can he say that with such a smile on his face. you just nod in return to his question, and he sits up and kisses you all over your face. “i love you, prinzessin! i’ll get you your chain tomorrow first thing in the morning, hope you won’t mind being tied up a little longer!” all you can do is smile awkwardly at him. yep, you don’t mind at all. definitely not. and as your kidnapper peppers your face with kisses and lets his hands roam all over your body, you can’t help but to wonder, is this really what the rest of your life is going to be looking like? maybe you can just pretend you’re kids again, playing some game, where he’s the wizard and your the locked up princess. just distract yourself from this, it’s sick, he’s sick.

and it’s even sicker when you struggle to know how to feel, since he’s kissing you so sweetly, so innocently. are you scared that you’re going to come to enjoy this arrangement? you should be. because you will eventually.

[spokelseskladden]

#it's about the intricate laws around social etiquette which basically boils down to corruption and nepotism#it's integral for rome to ever exist at all i tell you#and i knooow it's not that deep but agh. it's about contexts#<- prev that’s why it Never made sense to me why Richard was like ‘yeah we don’t care about your godly parent’ & gave jason the—#rags-to-riches praetor story#like undoubtedly jason could have & Did work for his position considering his whole…hand to hand combat with a tian in the war 🧍#but also he was 100% a nepo baby primed since a toddler for the position idk why Richard would pretend otherwise yk

Rose I can't be normal about Rome, I'm so sorry for this essay I made but I needed to get this out of my head.

It would actually be great if he just leaned into the toddler priming thing, because that's the one thing that screams Roman culture. A child from an affluent family (in this case, the son of fucking Jupiter innit) would absolutely be groomed to become Praetor, but it's the corruption and nepotism which makes the Romans so interesting!

The way their corruption and nepotism works is absolutely systemized, it's an integral part of the administration. If we go by the Roman Republics system, which I'd argue is the only one we can use for Camp Jupiter and New Rome considering it's a bit difficult to use an administrative system that only exists in the context of rapid expansion and imperialism without said rapid expansion and imperialism, Jason would still have to work hard for his position. It would be easier for him compared to someone with a lower standing, but he'd still have to play all kinds of political games to get it.

You had to climb a career ladder, and win the people over to get elected to a higher magistrate. To win people over you'd have to drain your funds (and take out some loans) to invest in the public and make yourself recognizable, and of course it would help you a lot to have ancestors who were also successful magistrates. If you did have these successful magistrates in your family tree, it wasn't unusual to use their death masks part of your election campaign, like this guy did:

It's all about honour and prestige for the Romans, and powerful ancestors is a part of that. So basically, Jason would be a shoe-in for Consul (fuck richard, why did you call them Praetors, that's a different magistrate😭)

ANYWAY, if you wanted to get to the top you'd still need to go through the cursus honorum(ladder of offices), and start as a Quaestor, then go on to Aedil, then Praetor, and finally Consul. After Augustus they'd elect 20 Quaestors every year, (I think it was 16 before that but I'm not sure, I wrote a question mark in my notes lol) and only 2 of those could end up as Consul in the end, and considering these people put themselves into insane amounts of debt to get to Consul you can imagine the competition was intense. The way you earned back your money was through conquest and war trophies, which you could do by being praetor. So basically use everything you had and didn't have as Quaestor and Aedil, and earn it all back in the last stages. Following Julius Caesars political path will give you a pretty good idea of what a very successful run through the cursus honorum would look like.

Of course this system can't be the exact same in a fantasy book series for kids, I mean it's pretty unrealistic for a 16-yearold to get through all of those steps(you had to be like 30 to even START on the cursus honorum in real rome), and this is just the abridged version of how these things worked so I understand why we can't have an exact replica of the roman republic but I'd like for there to be something more than a few titles (THAT ARE WRONG)and a vague "we're more militant and strict than the greeks" because it would be cool world building, explain New Rome a bit more, and appeal to me personally lol.

I need to not think too deeply about how camp jupiter/new rome could function at all based on the roman republic/roman empire because by all accounts. It shouldn't function at all

[brittlebutch]

actually it's kind of funny how people will say Alex's fatal flaw is that he 'doesn't ask for help' and that it's his determination to handle things on his own that leads to his deterioration and eventual death when his whole introduction to the present-day timeline was a very literal cry for help that simply went ignored

[fluffypotatey]

Pre divorce shadowpeach didn't seem to be the type to fight a lot. In fact the shadowpeach divorce probably blew up that big due to all the unsaid frustrations they never let out.

So I'm just imagining shadowpeach never fighting in an obvious way (closest to fighting would be backhanded comments or barbed words) but that just makes things more unsettling

oh yeah 100% it didn’t help that swk was always leaving FFM out of his need to get stronger and be the best and be respected. not to mention they probably never saw their times together as the right moment to voice their concerns out loud because this was their time to wind down and they just had to wait it out, wait until everything was perfect enough to have those talks

[melancholic-pigeon]

Okay this is the *actual* last comment, for real, but I just found out Spider is now smearing me as a convert and accusing me of being involved with drama I was not involved with because he mistakenly attributed my apologies for his public temper tantrum as being about something unrelated.

THIS IS A FALSE ACCUSATION and I do not appreciate having yet another bit of fake malicious intent falsely ascribed to my actions and* attributing a completely unrelated attack to me.

Also, it's very sad and disappointing whenever a Jew gets mad at a convert because something else is going on in the Jew's life and the convert happens to be in the splash zone and the Jew falls over backwards to smear the convert and invalidate her faith.

Just....the childish aggression is making me so, so sad and disappointed, from someone I used to think very highly of, who is now lying about me and publicly smearing me with false accusations based on a conflict he started because he misinterpreted something I said and I went out of my way to give him the benefit of the doubt when trying to clear up the mistake HE MADE that led him to decide bullying and attacking me for three fucking days was appropriate and okay and that I'm the bad guy for saying it's wildly unprofessional to behave like this in public to a former customer face.

Sorry, but facts, reality, linear time and the truth of what I actually said and did are on my side here, and I will not stand for being smeared and attacked and shat all over because I had the gall to try to kindly resolve his uncalled for, unjustified temper tantrum.

I am also not sorry that I left a side note in the tags that it was also unacceptable for HIM to drag his daughter into a stupid internet slapfight based on his own reading comprehension failure. Because it was and is unacceptable, and she needs to hear that message from someone.

End of story. Keep digging that hole as long as you like, Spider. It's not helping your case and is continuing to make you look progressively worse and more unreasonable, and the only person you have to blame is yourself.

*revised for clarity

[kneworder]

some of you guys weren't raised on heroes (2005) and it shows

[snekdood]

Quite honestly, i think people just dont like to acknowledge how many times i have been victimized bc it doesnt work for their narrative of the Scary Bad Trans Guy With No Regard For Others And Likes To Kick Puppies And Doesnt Know Real Pain Or Trauma