#or my memories are just tricky

[mossmx]

btw I am getting flashbacks to Zeta and the Sylverster stallone ant.............

I hope I do not have weird dreams XD

[synelven]

here's gerry moshing for my he's a METALHEAD not a goth propaganda

(lyrics in the background are from dead end residents by cattle decapitation)

[dazzelmethat]

Long time no Bud. Wow the last time I made her a ref was 2018. I experimented some with her pallet. Unsure if I like the profile head but oh well, open mouthed anime inspired profile faces are notoriously hard for a reason.

Sigh. What am I going to do with her.. my writing conundrum workshopping in tags. My tag rant mentions plot related suicide and ableism (in relation to the zombie trope).

[steakout-05]

headcanons i have about Craig the scientist :)

as are most of the characters i have headcanons for, Craig is on the autism spectrum. he has a flat effect to his voice and facial expressions, doesn't really get most social cues, doesn't know how to react to others in pain the "right" way, misunderstands metaphors and speaks in quite a direct manner because it makes the most sense to his brain. he's quite a literal thinker. he also tends to hyperfixate so hard on a task that he forgets his basic needs and hygene, and thus has quite an unkempt look underneath that hazmat suit of his (which i will get into later!). Barry often ends up needing to get Craig something to eat because of how long he hyperfixates on something.

Craig sometimes doesn't exactly pay attention to his tone of voice, so sometimes he can say something that, to him, sounds completely normal, but because of his tone, can end up sounding really ominous to other people by accident ("We know who you are, Barry.")

Craig has traumatic cataract in his left eye (or wherever the fuck craig's visor crack is supposed to be in canon lol) from the explosion in 'Level 2' and is half blind in that eye. his eye has a very clouded look as a result of the injury. he's also got a huge scar there too that required some pretty gnarly stitches later, and his skin is almost completely numb around that area.

Craig also never really had the best eyesight before the injury, so he's always wearing these big ol' nerdy glasses underneath his helmet. and yes, they are tacked together with a band-aid lol

Craig is one of the few scientists who is not a clone of Peter Simpkins, the late friend of both Professor Brains and (in my headcanon'd canon) Craig. i like to think that Craig and Simpkins knew each other when they were first recruited by Legitimate Research and was pretty close to both him and Brains, and since Simpkins died, Brains has kind of taken more of a liking towards Craig (mostly out of loneliness and needing someone to help around at the lab, but he has a genuine fondness for him under his demanding and angry exterior).

There's a bit of a fan theory that Craig is the same guy as the scientist in the 'Robot Bird' rock opera, which i like to believe is the case. i mean, he's got the same monotone voice as Craig, it's gotta be him. i hope this does end up becoming canon because i think it'd make for an interesting conflict between Barry and Craig!!

Craig may or may not be related to Lab Lady.

Craig's counterpart in the mirror universe is named Kayla.

Craig is demiromantic and is questioning his sexuality (he thinks he might be bi or pan), though he definitely knows he loves Barry <3

Craig has an unhealthy habit of wiping his embarrassing memories, like, a lot. he wipes memories of awkward accidents in the lab, particularly painful failures, and most importantly, the memories of losing literally all his stuff and his career to Barry, which is why he doesn't immediately recognise him in the shorts. Craig has a lot of trouble recounting stories from the past because of this memory-wiping and felt a sense of emptiness, which getting hit in the head certainly didn't help with, so he tried inventing that apple in the Multiverse Madness event to get some of them back. it was pure dumb luck that Barry didn't end up witnessing what happened to Craig in the 'Robot Bird' opera and both are completely unaware of the disastrous can of worms that could have opened. bro's gonna end up like wallflower blush if he doesn't keep that memory erasing under control

and finally...

under his helmet, Craig has messy dirty-blonde hair, a rounded face that has a few stray facial hairs he forgot to shave, a long scar down the left side of his face, hazel coloured eyes and pale skin. this design is inspired by the designs made by @dexterno-artz and @schnabel53 respectively :D

this is a sketch of my finalised(ish) craig design!!! i've shown earlier versions of this guy in a couple of older posts but i haven't really revised his design much until now. i kinda had the idea of him looking like a stereotypical nerd and then made him messier. i might tone the amount of hair he has down a tiny bit but also i really like the nerdy bird's nest thing he has goin on :) i like to think he literally hasn't brushed his hair in several weeks and it's just become a bird's nest from nights of staying up doing science stuff

how i feel about barry tbh. he's literally so dumb i love him

(also apologies for the photos being kinda blurry and me forgetting to turn off the filter. again. in my defence it looks really nice and orange on my phone)

sometimes i like drawing him saying stuff from the shorts to get a feel of how he'd look when talking and make sure he looks juuuust nerdy enough for me to go "yep that's craig". also his big,g, handns,s,

drew this as a quick side profile sketch to get a general idea of how i want to draw him from this angle. he's talking to barry offscreen and falling in love with him <3

stupid little comic with a stupid little interaction that would definitely happen between these stupid little guys <3 barry being a little asshole every now and then is very entertaining to me. i need to see him antagonising craig and starting an old couple bickering argument with craig, that would heal me i think

i think i'll post more of this design in the future, i really quite like it a lot :)

[delicourse]

your poses are always so pretty and dynamic! do you have any examples or references? i feel like it’s kind of hard to find cool poses, esp if u wanna draw fanart

i struggle with the same thing, unfortunately!!there’s really no database full of poses for inspiration and composition that i know of, most tends to be croquis stuff (which i do recommend if dynamics is the problem!) or like, extremely specific Holding Medieval Sword Drawing Reference Angle Pics…

really, i think, looking around and just collecting images you enjoy to later look back on, and use for inspiration is the way to go. much of what i do is from memory of things i thought looked cool.. wether its real life scenes, artwork or fashion ads.. usually i only try to find specific refs once ive already begun on the artwork and start struggling with a certain part…. but finding references for a pose u kinda made up can be a hassle! so it can absolutely feel wayy more inefficient to do it like that.. but it’s what i do!

[arolesbianism]

Tiphereth suppression finally complete babeyyyy

[captainsparklefingers]

It's always weird when you get an idea for an au story and it sounds great as an idea, but then when you go to try and plot it out, you're like 'wait this is either gonna involve a complete overhaul of canon or I'm gonna have to ignore a lot of shit or get really, REALLY creative'. And suddenly the whole thing just feels very, very daunting.

I think that's why I haven't done anything longer than oneshots (interconnected or otherwise) for a while.

Like, writing Conspiracy of Ravens, my last multichapter story for anything, did involve a major canon change, but it was something that could, I think, be done in a way that could sort of slot into canon and not feel eo out of place? I mean it wasn't perfect, but i5 didn't feel like...wildly impossible, which for something that could have big ripple effects is good, I'd say.

I've got other ideas for longer things, four of which I'm seriously consider writing, one of which I've actually been trying to write on and off for liiiiike...two years? And as you can see, they do not exist beyond my brain and a bunch of notes that go nowhere, or they get started but the idea of a complete canon rewrite is so daunting that even beginning to plan that out is a struggle.

I gotta say, I really admire people who do massive aus that manage to both diverge from their canon source in a big way while also following similar plot beats or echoes and staying true to both the characters and the heart/feel of the original source work. Because that CANNOT be easy.

(you know exactly who you are, if you're reading this, and I both envy and deeply respect you.)

....look I've been home sick with a major headcold all day, with nothing to keep me company but my cats and my thoughts. This is what happens when I have free time. Not any ACTUAL writing, but a dumb blog post about how writing is hard. In short: I'm sick, I'm bored, I have writers block, and I'm complaining instead of, you know, doing anything productive.

[stemroses]

The dreams have been getting a little too real. Like my co worker telling me that her husband accused her of cheating Friday morning which is why she was excused to go work in the back office was real- that happened. But my co working coming back from the office with a bruised face stained blood and dried tears was fake- a dream.

[hoshigray]

MAPPA gave Nanami such beautiful hands that they never fail to make you feel things.

a/n: Bye, the trailer JUST came out, and I can't get over how good they made Nanami, so I'm writing out this to put myself together. @satoruhour pushed me on to write this so ty swee-T-pie, love u sm 💓 this is just like when they released that hidden inventory trailer and i drooled over Toji's hands help 💀 so yeah this is just me writing a short smthn for kento's hands, sorry not sorry. also tysm for 1.9k!!!

cw: Nanami x fem/afab! reader - first soft then smutty, so minors DNI - h@nd h0lding - soft dom! Nanami bc yes - fingering (f! receiving) - hand kink (ig?) - fingers in reader's mouth - pet names (angel, love, sweet girl) - praise - clitoral play - you and Nanami in a cute domestic relationship ♡

wc: 950

You love Kento Nanami's hands. It's no secret to yourself because it's the truth. But you can't blame yourself; you can't help it! There are so many moments with him where you can't help but admire the man's big hands, and honestly, it's embarrassing at this point. It's a guilty pleasure that makes you feel such pleasant emotions, makes you want him more and more.

Even before the two of you expressed courtship, there were days when you'd encounter and have idle chitchat with the stoic man, and those were days that were hard to go through when you had such a tremendous crush on the guy. So much so that you'd drift your gaze away from his feline mocha eyes masked by his eyepiece. Instead, you'd look at his hands, admiring how beautiful and big they are. Aside from his face, they were the only thing visible from his dapper suit. Not that you complained, though. The more you saw and talked with Nanami, the more you marveled at his hands in your thoughts.

And when you two finally started dating, things were going slow and steady. Just as the two of you wanted — no rush at all. But a memory you hold dear to your heart was when the two of you walked home in the cold winter. The chilly breeze sent shivers down your spine, and your nose found breathing tricky in the extreme temperature change. Not to mention you forgot your mittens at home. Just my luck...

However, it wasn't all that bad. After all, your boyfriend (it felt a little weird calling him that) offered to walk you to your place, sticking close to your side, which was a rarity back then. Heat finally found its way up to your cold cheeks when Nanami took the initiative to grab ahold of your hand with his, the size difference making it easy to exchange warmth. "Here," he said so nonchalantly it almost felt like a dream. "Don't want the wind to blow you off the sidewalk." It was such an airy gag from the usually silent man, yet you chuckled and held his hand tighter, the cold overlooked throughout the rest of the walk.

Even watching him doing the most ordinary things is a sight. Whether he's washing dishes, making the bed, or cutting vegetables for the next meal he was cooking for you two, your eyes would always find their way to his deft hands. Rugged palms moving swiftly and gracefully, veins that stem from the back trail upwards to his forearm, and thick fingers with scars so faded with time that you'd have to be very close to see them. You're so in love with him — with his hands. They make you feel safe and secure, warm and loved. Specifically in times when you two are close to each other. Whether it's you resting on his chest as he reads a book while rubbing circles on your back or holding hands with you two walking around the vicinity, it couldn't get any better.

...Well, perhaps now as you're lying on the bed with your back to his chest, succumbing to his touch as one hand cups your cheeks while the other burrows inside your panties — his fingers intruding between your folds and playing with your leaky entrance staining the underwear with your come.

"Ooooh, Kentooo..." You moan to his thick digits in your vulva, scraping your spongey walls that result in high wails. He rubs your cheeks and maneuvers your face to the side so he can lay kisses on your neck, and you melt under his lips with a blissful hum.

"Open your legs a bit more for me, angel." His command is hushed to your ears. You follow his instructions and spread your legs further apart, and he rewards you with another finger added to your chasm. Now both the fore and middle digits slide deep into you, and the brush of his thumb on your clit results in sudden wails. "Good, that's my sweet girl."

His fingers graze your insides expertly, having you writhe on him with how good he's making you feel with just his fingers alone. The speed of his digits increases by the second, and you can feel the wave start rising in your body. Your body jolts with every scrape of his fingertips, pornographic whines fly out your mouth, and your face gets hotter and hotter.

"Haaaah!! Mmnnn...Kento, I'm so close. 'S so close, I'm—Mmmph!?" You don't get to finish that sentence when Nanami stuffs his free fingers into your mouth, your tongue immediately coating the two digits with your saliva.

"Go on, come on me, love." His sweet words were what it took for everything to come crashing down, the fingers in your cunt quicken in pace, and his thumb flicking on your clitoris — causing you to grab onto his forearm. Scratching the clothed limb and heavy pants drawing inward, your cunt clamps around on his fingers as your orgasm comes to pull you in for a euphoric release.

And Nanami lets your body experience the shocks on top of him, laying precious kisses on your temple and cheeks. He slowly removes his digits from your satisfied cunt with a whimper from your puffy lips. "Did so well like always, angel." In your daze, you still share a smile and welcome his lips on yours.

Like you said before — Nanami's hands are your guilty pleasure in more ways than one. And it feels so good to know he reciprocates those desires with mutual love. If such a gorgeous and attentive man can have you under him with just his sheer touch, then so be it.

[illnessfaker]

tw: black+trans death

from the_yvesdropper on instagram:

our beautiful black trans brother, 35 year old Righteous Torrence "Chevy" Hill, was murdered in Atlanta, GA this weekend.

he went by his nickname 'Chevy' he was originally from Macon, GA. he owned Evollusion, which is a black/ queer owned LGBTQ+ salon in Atlanta that provided and dedicated full service to specializing in hair, nails, barbering and makeup. growing up as young black queer boys/kids, the barbershop experience can sometimes be a tricky space to occupy, this was something that Chevy understood and wanted to cultivate a space of safety where you can also get the affirming look and style you want, and he did exactly that.

Chevy was a beloved son, brother, partner, and father.

one of his last posts that had a photo of himself said :

"if you truly know me, you know i am a humble, modest, private man, that i love my community, i have the love of God in me and will give the shirt off my back to any soul in need, also i never post pictures of myself, legaey give myself credit, that stops today, i am my legacy!"

(a close friend of Chevy asked if i could share more then one photo of Chevy, since he never posted photos of himself and in recent years he got the confidence to want to share more photos and now he won't get the chance to)

Chevy, hey king, hey brother, hey angel, thank you for everything, i lové you, we lové you, i'm so sorry. there are a lot of photographers in heaven who will be able to photograph you as the glorious black trans angel that you are.

there will be a homegoing service/memorial for our brother

there aren't many details about what happened but apparently he was shot by a family member last wednesday, the 28th (at least this article was the one linked in relation to his murder.)

judging by both the IG post and the comments section he was well-loved by many people and those people have many good memories with him and nothing but good things to say. this is a comment that was left by tirajmeansgolden which was hidden by IG for some reason:

I started testosterone in February 2020. I hit this man up at the end of 2019 after numerous Google searches for an LGBT-friendly barber near me (and by near me... he was a good 35-40 minutes from the rural area I was in outside of Atlanta: but when I found out he was a trans man and that his business was the first and only LGBT hair bar, I knew it would be worth the trip). I was a dysphoric mess in his DMs one Sunday. I hated how my hair was growing out. I never had a "masculine" hairstyle before but decided one day I would buzz it all off myself, then allowed it to grow out a bit... I sent him a video and despite him being closed on Sunday, he told me to come through. I got my hair braided and he gave me my first really masculine fade. Explained the different terms. Lined me up. Was asking me about my decision to transition and provided some helpful advice + guidance. I told him how I was a therapist and he was hype and said he talked with a group of trans men and he would love for me to stop by and also give some mental health tips. So whoever said he was humble - wow, what an understatement. Such a community man! Made me feel SO comfortable because barbershops were a source of major trauma and triggers for me. They were such an integral part of my early transition (I just celebrated 4 years later week). And he was such an integral part of the Atlanta Queer community with hosting events like Queer Con. How I found so many other great resources + queer businesses/artists. May you rest in peace, Chevy. You'll be missed. You've made such a different in the lives of countless people. You definitely were living your Purpose + left a legacy behind ...

[alargehunkofdebris]

Why There’ll Never Be Another Good Omens 2 Experience

The strangest thing happened after a few days post my watching of S2. I got a wave of real, bittersweet sadness.

Not due to the obvious – I was dealing with that too, but with more excitement than anything – but because I realized something, as a writer and consumer of media. I realized that it’s unlikely I’ll ever get a media experience close to what I experienced at the end of Good Omens 2. Because really, its setup was absolutely unparalleled – in general, and for myself personally.

I am currently writing my third romance, and what I’ve learned primarily about the genre, the way for it to really work, is that there needs to be something keeping the couple apart initially. The more things keeping the couple apart, the stronger the romance hits. The more the couple clashes with each other, the better it is. Societal norms, class issues, initial dislike, literal danger—all these aspects are what make a romance a story. It’s that conflict that creates the compelling narrative. No romance was ever popular because things worked out well from the beginning – it’s that “look at what we were, and look at us now” aspect that gives readers/watchers that satisfaction. It’s the “I can’t believe this happened” effect. The “I would never have foreseen this” effect. The “they’ll never be together” effect. It’s why forbidden romances are so incredibly popular.

Another aspect that makes a romance story really work well is the amount of time it takes for the romance to develop. A couple that gets together after a few days? Eh, it’s tricky. You better make it really dramatic somehow. A great example is Titanic – class differences, betrothal, and a huge amount of danger threatens this couple, so them being in love after only a few days works. But what really sells this one is because we can see how this romance has survived beyond those few days. We see it 80 years in the future, still there, in the memory of Rose. That is why it hits so hard. Romances that span over long periods of time (especially ones that are bittersweet/tragic) hit so much more than ones spanning a short period.

But wait! There’s more!

You can up this effect by not only having the romance take time in story…but having it take time in real life, for the viewer/reader.

This is why romances in TV shows that take years to finally work out are so compelling. It’s that “Pam and Jim” effect, that will-they-won’t-they deal. We are waiting right along with them, and we’re feeling that same relief when all those things keeping them apart finally fall away. This is harder to pull off, because there’s never that guarantee that the story will make it that far. TV shows get cancelled, creators lose interest or die, etc. So it’s not just “Will They, Won’t They,” it’s “Will They, Won’t They, Can They Even Try?”

This is also compounded by that fear that it won’t happen in-story after all, and while in romances you’re pretty positive that things work out (they kinda have to, for it to be labeled a “romance”) in other media, there’s always that possibility. Look at Community – there’s a forbidden/conflict-ridden romance that didn’t end up working out, even though it was “Will They, Won’t They”d for six entire seasons. You also then have shows and ships where fans are almost sure it won’t happen, but still hold out hope. (See: Supernatural, Sherlock, etc.)

Now. Now look at Good Omens. Look at that absolutely unparalleled, unbelievable set up. It’s unbelievable because it takes almost every single thing that makes a romance compelling, and not only uses all of them, but dials them up to 11.

Why are they at odds? Why are they forbidden from being together?

Because they are literally the most opposing forces you can imagine in Western Canon. They are the Angel Guarding The Gate and The Serpent of Eden. The literal only way you could’ve made this a bigger deal would’ve been to make it God and Satan, and even that would’ve not hit as hard, because it’d be like two CEOs getting together – there’s no fear of a higher power adding that delicious conflict. And to add to all this, in real life, the couple is portrayed as two men, which adds that second meta level of conflict.

And what fear/danger is keeping this couple apart?

Not just familial disappointment—but disappointment from God and Heaven and Hell. Not just moral guilt, but the guilt of potentially dooming the entire Earth. And finally, on top of that, the very real danger of being killed. Not only that, but making it as though you never even existed.

And in real life, they face all those roadblocks that queer couples in media have been battling for years and years, but I'll talk about that more in a second.

Okay, then Time. How long have they been kept apart?

For…all of it.

All of the time that ever existed.

They, quite literally, could not have been kept apart longer.

And this leads into those final two points, the ones that actually really sell it. Because I can sit down right now and write a story about an angel and a demon falling for each other at the beginning of time against all odds…but what I can’t do is to have already written it thirty-three years ago.

That’s how long this story has existed. Thirty. Three. Years.

I’m not even counting how this is using characters that have existed as opposing forces for thousands of years. I’m not even saying that, even though that’s also a part of it. But besides that, this story, this exact story started thirty-three years ago, and is still being continued by the author to this day.

Do you know how uncommon that is?

Yes, we have canon that has lasted for many, many years. Hundreds. We get new versions of beloved older stories ever year. But it’s so very rare that they are by the same creator. We get new Sherlock Holmes content, but it is not written by Arthur Conan Doyle. This, on the other hand, is actual canon content, written by the author of the original. That is unbelievably rare.

That means we’ve got a fandom where some people have grown up with these characters. People who read it at twenty are fifty-three. People who read it at fifty are eighty-three. Kids who saw their parents reading the book now have children of their own. It is a cult classic that has been in the hearts of so many people for generations. Me, personally, I fell in love with it ten years ago, at age twenty, at the very beginning of my own writing journey. This story means so much to people, because it’s stood that test of time.

And yet, this story was never explicitly romantic. So many saw it that way, but it was never something confirmed. Because this was a book from the 90s, at a time where this kind of romance just wasn’t in popular media if it wasn’t played as a joke. It was, back then, the same kind of “forbidden” as a romance between angel and demon. So people imagined, but they never expected anything more. And they’ve continued not expecting more, because even in the 2019 first season, there was never any true confirmation of anything, and people accepted it. You have a 33-year-old story here – it’s possible that this major change/confirmation could happen, but all things considered, it was unlikely. You would never blame the creator for not making major developments to a story they wrote with their late friend a lifetime ago. And no one in production was saying a word to confirm or deny, but we’ve seen all this before. It was a Will-They-Won’t-They…Probably-Not situation.

And then you have the end of S2.

And that's where that bittersweet sadness comes in for me, personally. Not at a huge level, not to the point where I'd have it any other way, but it's there regardless. Because I realized that this was a unique situation that could never be replicated, for me, and likely for many, especially readers of the book pre-show. In all likelihood, I would never again experience a romantic payoff like this one. Because it was the most forbidden of forbidden romances, the couple of which have been kept apart by the worst of all dangers and highest level of guilt for the longest amount of time literally possible, written over a real-life span of time where this kind of romance went from “completely taboo even in real life” to “finally acceptable in popular media,” written by the same creator, and not confirmed as canon until the story reached the age of Jesus Christ himself.

And the real kicker is, even after everything these two literally star-crossed lovers have gone through…they’re still being kept apart. They’ve still not taken down those final, seemingly insurmountable barriers between them. It wasn’t a “here you go 😊” move to make long-time fans happy – it’s being used as a perfect, painful plot point. After 33 years, we’re still having to wait longer.

Chef's kiss. Couldn’t have been a better set up if it was mathematically calculated. And yet, the best part is that it happened organically.

It just works.

[yuri-is-online]

Out With the Old (Heartsabyul, Savanaclaw, and Octavinelle x Yuu)

"Look I would get rid of this thing if I could afford a new sweatshirt." You drag the offensive article of clothing over your head completely missing the spark of curiosity and mischief in your companion's eye. "I've got a lot of bad memories associated with this."

"If it's that uncomfortable we can go look for a replacement instead of-"

"Oh no not like that, it's super comfy. I just don't like it because it technically belongs to my ex."

notes: they/them used for Yuu, some questionable behavior from Floyd and Jade because who else? This is meant to be crack. Second part can be found here (x)

Riddle- "THAT'S LITERALLY ILLEGAL???"

He is too focused on hyperventilating because it sounds like you just admitted to a crime in front of him to even think about offering you one of his sweaters. Trey and Cater have to break it down for him unpaid therapist style that no, you are not wearing stolen property (probably), borrowing clothes is just something people in relationships often do. He then further needs it explained that no, you are not still in a relationship and since you want to get rid of the shirt it sounds like things ended poorly. His friends want to try and suggest he should give you an article of his clothing to replace the offending one but he's so focused on getting you something that matches dress code that they decide to quit while they're ahead. Literally.

Trey- "You know you can always ask us if you need help, right?"

Vil's right about Trey's tendency to fuss and spoil people being a bit of a flaw; he's in tune enough with his emotions to know that he should not, for his own sake, give you one of his old sweatshirts without being honest about why he wants you to wear it. But he can't exactly deny his instincts when it comes to the people he cares about. You're cold and uncomfortable, what sort of guy would he be if he just left you all alone? Just please don't brush this off with a comment about how much of a big brother or mother hen he is; it is already going to be pure torture trying to look at you in his things in a Queen of Hearts honoring way. He doesn't need an added complex on top of it.

Cater- "Oh honey no."

Cater doesn't like keeping stuff his exes gave him either, but luckily for him he's never been in a position where that's literally only the stuff he had on him. Speaking of things, he buys a bunch of clothes off magicam he barley has time to take the tags off of before the trend goes stale. You guys should totally ditch what you were planning to do today and have a little fashion show in his room. It'll be cute and he can get a bunch of cammable shots! Just ignore the pop music club hoodie he refuses to take back because it looks "so much cuter on you." <3

Ace- "That's extremely lame prefect."

He isn't blind; you're cute and poor. Anyone would jump at the chance to let you steal a hoodie, besides Ace isn't insecure enough to be super jealous of someone you clearly hate. He knows you well enough to tell when you are silently wishing death on someone, it's all in the vocal tone. But damn if this new bit of information doesn't make things tricky. He already makes a big fuss about not needing to focus on dating right now, and with that iconic sweatshirt of yours technically belonging to an ex it's not like he can just slide you one of his without making it super obvious what he's doing. Looks like you're just going to have to take some extra teasing for a bit prefect, it's his preferred method of cope.

Deuce- "You've been here for how long and the Headmage hasn't given you any clothes?!?!"

Deuce is a good egg whose primary concern is almost always your well being. He tends to act before his common sense and emotions can catch up with his thought process, and that's exactly what happens here. The concept of you dating someone is just so... foreign to him. Not because he thinks your undesirable! It's just that you guys are always hanging out, you not being around makes him feel a bit funny inside, and not in a good way. He doesn't mention that to his mom when he texts her asking if she has any of his old clothes laying around, but she definitely knows what's on his mind. Why else would she have sent his old delinquent jacket?

Leona- "Well that explains why it smells like shit."

Let the record show that Leona is in fact, lying to you. Your clothes don't smell like anything other than you and maybe some of the musk floating around Ramshackle Dorm, but that doesn't stop you from pulling the fabric and taking a good sniff. To Leona, all this really suggests is that you've been over the person long enough that you don't care about keeping their scent around anymore. Sure, a tiny thought does worm it's ugly way into his inferiority complex that "oh they liked someone else" but his equally large ego immediately slams the emphasis on "liked" and starts thinking about how to get his scent on you. He doesn't really own too many jackets like the one you're wearing, but he does have some nice silk scarfs he could wrap you up in. Much classier than whatever trash you had previously been going out with.

Ruggie- "You wanna toss it my way then?"

Clothes are clothes are clothes, you don't see Ruggie acting like his uniform is still Leona's just because that's who originally bought it. If you are really bothered by the memories of your ex, he's willing to listen and make fun of them, assuming that will make you feel better, but this won't make him jealous. That emotion is reserved for when you share food with other people. He is dead serious about taking the sweatshirt if you don't want it, as far as he's concerned that shirt belongs to you, and he wouldn't mind having an excuse to blend your wardrobes a little bit. It would make you even closer to being a real member of his pack.

Jack- "You can just take mine."

Jack's strong sense of justice and firm moral code are definitely his only motivations for offering you one of his sweatshirts. Forcing a student to wear clothes they find uncomfortable and associate with negative memories just because they didn't have the foresight to pack something they did like for a school they didn't know they would be attending is beyond unfair. That's what he tells himself anyway, and it's not like he isn't upset on your behalf, but it's plain as day to anyone that he wants to prove that you can rely on him; he's not like that other person, he doesn't mind being alone together with you.

Azul- "If your finances really are in such dire straights you know I could-"

Revealing personal information in Azul's presence is asking to be offered a deal. Sure that little complaint might have been insignificant to you, but for Azul? He's having a full blown Sherlock style breakdown going on in his head trying to decide what his angle is. 1) The prefect has dated in the past and doesn't look on that experience favorably. Does this prevent them from dating again? Needs further analysis. 2) Giving articles of clothing is an acceptable form of human courtship, even if used. Or is it especially if used? 3) Can he convince you to burn this if he gets you a replacement or is that too petty? 4) More importantly does this mean you have a type? And how does he press for that information without appearing desperate?

Jade- "Oh? Well that sounds extremely annoying."

Jade Leech is first and foremost a messy bitch who lives for other people's misery. Sure, he is reasonably certain he's in love with you at this point, but that doesn't matter. You have a story that's filled with second hand embarrassment and a bone to pick besides he is nothing if not an enthusiastic audience. The thought of you wearing clothes that he owns wasn't something he would have thought of himself, merfolk don't typically wear them so dating customs that involve them are a bit foreign to him. He would much rather just bite you. Or give you some jewelry. both he wants to do both

Floyd- "PUT THAT THING BACK WHERE IT CAME FROM OR SO HELP ME"

The instant you say that sweatshirt is from an ex he is taking off whatever shirt he is currently wearing and trying to tug off yours. Yes, even if it is his basketball jersey, and yes even if he just got back from practice. Isn't the scent supposed to be the point? He knows you miss him when he's gone, and he can get you something nicer out of his closet later. Just remember to tell everyone, even and especially if they don't ask, who gave it to you. Floyd's... nice? Enough? To not immediately burn your sweatshirt but it's up for debate if that's because he's actually being nice or if he just wants a trophy.

[endless-ineffabilities]

chemical override (9)

Ewan Mitchell x actress!reader

a/n: this was tricky to write I won't lie. I wanted it to be sweet but not unrealistic. Tension and angst filled but fair to our protagonists who have struggled through a lot. Oh well, you'll see. Enjoy!

series masterlist ▪︎ main masterlist

We find out what happened at the end of the reader's date with Matt. Can Ewan and his darling still mend their rift or will things be too far gone?

Matt sits next to you on your couch, as you enjoy one of his favourite films on the TV. He’s close – not too close that he’s flush against you – but enough that you can feel the warmth radiating from him. His arm is casually draped on the back of the seat, and his other hand often reaches up to run through his perfectly tousled hair.

As the film plays on, you can’t help but remember the intensity of last night’s kiss. Every time he turns to you, his disarming smile draws your gaze to his lips, lingering on the memory of their softness. 

The kiss had grown heated, leading him to press your back against your door. With a soft, frustrated growl, he had fished your forgotten key from your hand, unlocking your front door himself, while keeping a firm grip on your face, as if afraid the moment would fade if he let go. 

“Come here, love,” he had half-demanded, half-pleaded once you both entered the apartment. In a swift motion, he had picked you up in his arms and threw you down on the couch – the very same couch you two are lounging on right now. His touch had been intoxicating, his lips trailing hungry kisses down your neck while his hands roamed eagerly over your chest, your hips, and eventually, your backside. His muffled moans brought a heat to your core that almost made you let go and abandon all your inhibitions. Yet, as if on autopilot, or perhaps due to the image of a certain someone lingering in your mind, you pressed a hesitant hand to his chest and asked him to wait. 

His pupils were shot black, his lips swollen red, revealing the depth of his desire. He had reluctantly complied, burying his face in your neck and releasing a frustrated laugh that rumbled through his chest. You could see it - the figure of Ewan standing in the corner, arms crossed and lips curled in disappointment. Tsk tsk, he seemed to chide, leaning against the wall, judging you.

Oh sod off, you almost grumbled aloud, covering it up by running a hand down your face. This is my moment. 

And that moment came and went. The night had drifted away as you and Matt talked for hours, the connection deepening with each passing minute. He left early in the morning with a promise to return in the evening, bearing food and wine. “I just enjoy being in your company,” he had shared, and he was true to his word. 

Now, as he reaches for your bare knee, you thank your lucky stars that you chose to wear shorts.

“Where were you just then?” he asks, his smile playful.

“Hmm?” 

“You were lost to me for a moment there,” he says, eyes sparkling with curiosity. “Care to share what occupies your thoughts?”

Your phone buzzes on the side table, cutting through the tension. It’s a sudden lifeline – an excuse not to come up with some witty response that doesn’t reveal how fixated you had been on the kiss that nearly turned into something more carnal. Or how it had been the thought of Ewan that kept you from pulling him into your bedroom. 

You give Matt a look, silently telling him to hold on a moment, then you glance down at the screen which displays that all-too-familiar Ewan One-Eye, and you realise that you might need a longer while.

Matt raises an eyebrow. “Are you going to get that?” His tone is light and teasing, but something darker flashes across his gaze, something you haven’t seen in him before – it seemed like suspicion, or maybe even jealousy. 

You push it out of your mind, convinced you are just getting ahead of yourself.

You try to match the intensity of his gaze for a second before letting out a sigh. “Yeah, give me a minute.”

“A minute,” he echoes, index finger held up as if to confirm your time limit. 

With the phone pressed to your ear, you retreat into your bedroom, leaving the door open just an inch. Your hello barely stumbles from your lips before the familiar sound of Ewan’s voice greets you, rougher than usual.

“Darling,” he breathes, his voice low and raspy, “I think we need to talk.”

His tone is sombre, so unlike the usual cadence of your late-night calls, made for the usual purpose of making good on the arrangement. Those calls inevitably result in the two of you stumbling blind into the night, tangled in sheets and each other’s arms. 

“What is it?” you respond, unable to mask your nerves.

“About us,” he says, his voice slurring somewhat. Is he drunk? “We need to talk about us,” he repeats, as if he needs to convince himself just as much.

“What do you mean?” you ask quickly, getting defensive. You have a feeling that this isn’t going to end well. “What is there to talk about?”

“You know exactly what,” he snaps, unable to keep his emotions in check. “This… whatever we are.”

“Do we have to do this now?”

“Yes, now. Why not? You’re not busy, are you?”

“No… no, but – ”

“Okay then,” he presses on. “Let’s talk. I’ll start with… the fact that it didn’t sit right with me, seeing you on that date with Matt.”

“How did you see – ” The realisation dawns on you. “ – of course. Photogs.”

“Like I need their photos to know what’s happening. I know it was a date,” he spits, each word laced with frustration. 

You shut your eyes for a moment, trying not to let him get a rise out of you. “Yes, because I told you. I’m not hiding anything, Mitchell.”

“Is that supposed to make it better?” His voice rises, the bitterness sharper now. “You think honesty makes it hurt any less? You’re everywhere with him. It’s like... you don’t even care.”

The ache in his voice catches you off guard. You clench the phone, fighting back the surge of guilt threatening to overwhelm you, reminding yourself that you have nothing to feel guilty about. “What do you want me to do, Ewan? Push everyone away? Completely ignore this person who shows me genuine interest? Is that what you expect?”

“Stop,” he interrupts, his voice cracking slightly. “Just... stop.”

“You’re the one who made the rules, remember?” you snap, your own anger rising to meet his. “You were the one who said I wouldn’t be yours. That’s exactly what I’m doing. Not being yours.”

“Fuck,” he hisses under his breath, “I know that.”

“Then why are you acting like this? Like I’m betraying you?”

“Because,” he says finally, his voice raw, trembling. “Because I want you to be mine. Goddamn it, I want you to be.”

The air leaves your lungs in a single, sharp exhale, your heart pounding in your chest. You stand frozen, the words echoing in your mind, too much and too little all at once.

“What?” The word barely makes it past your lips, but it’s all you can manage.

A hollow laugh escapes him, strained and bitter. “It was stupid of me to say otherwise,” he murmurs. “I never stopped wanting you, not once. Not since you first smiled at me. I’ve always been yours.”

The confession hangs between you, finally out in the open. You let out a pained breath, and grip the phone tighter, needing to anchor yourself to something.

“I don’t know what you want me to say, Ewan,” you whisper.

“Say you’ll let me fix this,” he breathes. “Say you want me too.”

Your mind reels, torn between the ache for him and the reality that Matt is waiting just outside the door. But in this moment, it’s Ewan’s voice that consumes you – the yearning in his voice, the raw confession of someone who’s done with pretending not to care. 

“I – ”

“Hey, love.” Matt’s voice cuts through your thoughts like a blade, and you see him casually leaning against the doorframe. His tone is light, but the look in his eyes says he knows something is off. “I thought we said one minute.”

“Who’s that?” Ewan’s sharp question cracked through the phone.

“It’s – ”

“Why don’t you kindly tell Ewan that it’s rude to keep you from company?” Matt approaches slowly, his voice growing more pointed with every step.

“Matt?” Ewan’s voice is icy, his frustration palpable even through the phone. “Matt’s there?”

“Hey there, mate!” Matt calls out, loud enough for Ewan to hear, his tone overly cheerful, completely at odds with the atmosphere thickening in the room.

Your stomach clenches. The situation is getting out of hand. Fast. 

“Your date was yesterday,” Ewan mutters, the pieces starting to fall into place. “Did he stay the night? Is that why he’s still there? Did you – ”

“Yes,” you blurt out, the truth tumbling from your lips before you can stop it. Panic flashes through you. “I mean, yes, he stayed the night, but it’s not what you think – ”

“I don’t think you owe him an explanation, love.” Matt’s voice drops into a low whisper, leaning into you as if staking his claim. 

Ewan’s voice darkens, the sarcasm biting. “Not what I think? Really? So... what? He didn’t touch you? He didn’t – ” His words falter, but you can feel the unspoken questions twisting the knife deeper. Did he fuck you? Did he lay in your bed, his arms around you? Did he touch what was mine?

You feel the heat rise to your face, the sting of his accusations sharper than you expected. “Listen, Ewan, we just went on a date, that’s all. He came back to mine, but we didn’t – ”

“I get it,” he cuts you off., the bitterness dripping from his words. “I understand, darling. Like you said, this is what I signed up for. Who am I to stop you?”

“That’s not fair,” you whisper. “You can’t make me feel wretched for simply going – ”

“For what? For living your life?” Ewan interrupts, his tone bitter but resigned. “I told you I wouldn’t stand in your way. So go on, enjoy it. I’ll leave you to it.”

“Ewan,” you sigh, blind to Matt’s disapproving look. “Just wait.”

Ewan’s voice is soft now, almost too soft, like he’s already slipping away. “It’s alright,” he murmurs, but the hollow sound of his reassurance feels like a knife twisting deeper. “We’ll talk another time.”

The line between you feels like it’s fraying, each second stretching longer, heavier, with neither of you able to say what you really mean.

“Okay,” you whisper, though it feels like a surrender.

“Okay,” he echoes, the finality settling in the silence that follows. 

For a few excruciating seconds, neither of you hangs up. You can hear his breathing – steady but strained – and in your mind, you see his face, that familiar frustrated pout tugging at his lips, the way his jaw clenches when he’s trying to hold something back.

But Matt is standing right there, his gaze piercing through the quiet moment you’re desperately clinging to. With a trembling hand, you lower the phone, ending the call. 

“Sorry, Smithy,” you weakly smile, in considerably lower spirits than before you entered your bedroom.

Matt studies you for a moment, his face unreadable, and the weight of everything you’ve left unsaid presses down on your shoulders. “No need to apologise, love,” he says, gently slinging an arm around you and pulling you to him. “Let’s go, you’re missing the best parts of the film.”

The next day, the events from the previous night still weighed down on you. Ewan’s words echo in your mind when you go about your routine. 

When you wake up and brush your teeth – “Darling, I think we need to talk.”

When you make your cup of morning joe and help yourself to some breakfast – “... I want you to be mine.”

When you try to focus on the scripts for season three, settling into the worn comfort of your couch. – “Say you’ll let me fix this. Say you want me too.”

By late afternoon, a call with Phia offers some reprieve. You confide in her about the recent happenings with Ewan and Matt. She alludes to being in contact with Ewan, and ‘making sure his head is screwed on straight’.

“He can’t be like this,” she passionately exclaims. “He can’t act all macho and possessive when he’s been treating you like a throwaway lay in the sack. I mean, no offence, I love you but you know what I mean.”

“Yeah, I know what you mean.” you laugh despite yourself, already feeling lighter.

“You do you, my darling,” she reassures, before reminding you, “But listen, he told you his truth. More or less. I think it’s your turn to tell him what you really think, don’t you?”

“You’re right, Phi,” you admit quietly. “I guess I’ll have to start from the beginning.”

An hour after the call, you find yourself laying down on your bed. Sansa, curled up on Ewan’s side, is doing little to help. She nestles on top of his pillow, her paws digging into the soft fabric as if to anchor herself to his memory. Either it’s due to the events that transpired, or your mind is playing tricks on you, but she reminds you of Ewan with each passing day. 

Ewan, with whom she quickly decided to replace you as her favourite human the moment she got a good sniff of his hoodie. 

She meows softly, as if privy to your thoughts, as if to say that she misses him too. The little squishball of a traitor. 

Then she suddenly raises her head, in that feline manner of being alert to something that eludes you. She scrambles out of the bed, her small form darting out of the room with a purpose, her persistent meows filling the apartment. You’re about to tell her to shush, when the buzzer rings. Your heart skips a beat. Someone has been let up already – someone familiar enough to bypass the usual formalities. 

You pad to the door in your worn pyjamas, exchanging a knowing glance with Sansa, who waits by the entrance like a sentinel.

“Meow,” your turncoat companion looks at you briefly, then at the door. Open the door, you silly human, is what you’re certain she would demand if she could form the words. 

“I know, I know.” She follows close behind as you unlock your door to reveal your visitor. Sansa’s favourite person in the entire world. 

When the door swings open, there he is – Ewan One-Eye. Standing tall in his black leather jacket and worn jeans, his hair returned to his natural, darker shade you prefer on him. Your breath hitches, your gaze dropping to the delicate bouquet of white roses he holds in one hand.

“Hello, darling,” he murmurs, that familiar smile tugging at his lips. “I come bearing a white flag.”

Before you can respond, Sansa lets out an elated meow, bounding toward him like he’s a long-lost friend. Ewan snorts softly. “Hey, Sansa,” he greets her, crouching slightly to give her a small scratch behind the ears. Then, with a glance up at you, he adds, “Think you can convince your mum to let daddy inside?”

You roll your eyes, unable to fight the smile that’s already tugging at your lips. One smile from him and your resolve is at risk of unravelling completely. 

“A white flag, huh?” you ask, stepping aside to let him in. But you barely have time to close the door before he leans in, catching you by surprise with a firm kiss. It’s not rushed or desperate, but there’s a weight to it – a need that hums beneath the surface.

When he pulls back, you realise he’s slipped the bouquet into your hand. You stare down at the roses, his symbolic white flag.

“These are for you,” he says, his voice soft but insistent, his eyes searching yours. “I, uhhh, I wanted to apologise for being… you know.”

“A dick,” you tease, raising an eyebrow. “I know.”

He scoffs, shaking his head with a small grin. “Well, don’t hold back, darling. But yes, I shouldn’t have gotten on your case over… him.”

“Him?” you ask playfully. “Don’t worry about it, One-Eye. I always knew you and your uncle had bad blood.”

His eyes narrow, his smirk faltering for a second, and you watch as his gaze flickers down your body, slowly taking in the sight of you in your comfortable attire. It’s a familiar look – the way his eyes sweep over every patch of exposed skin with barely veiled hunger. Normally, he would’ve made a move by now, reached out to brush a stray lock of hair behind your ear, or run his thumb lightly across your bottom lip. But today, his gaze lingers longer than usual – right at your neck and exposed collarbones, like he’s searching for something. Or someone else's unwelcome mark.

You can practically see the gears turning in his head, the surge of jealousy he’s trying so hard to suppress. But the way his jaw tightens gives him away.

“Why aren’t you dressed?” he asks casually, breaking the silence.

“Excuse me?”

“Oh well, this is fine, I suppose.” He shrugs, eyes flashing with mischief. “You look beautiful in pyjamas… or a fucking ball gown.”

“Wait, what are you talking about?” 

“I’m taking you out. We’re going on a date, my darling.”

You openly gape at him, stunned by the sudden shift of events. “I’m sorry, did I miss your memo or – ”

“It’s a surprise,” he cheekily grins. “So, you know… surprise! And all that.” 

You cross your arms, trying to suppress the warmth blooming in your chest. “So you’re fine with taking me out on dates now?”

“Mhmm.” He takes another step, and his voice drops lower, the teasing edge in it sharp enough to make your breath catch. “I realised you deserve a little more than I’ve been giving. The bloody arrangement we have isn’t enough for me. It never has been. I’ve been too stupid to see it, and maybe I’ve got competition now, but you better believe that I’m not backing down easily.” 

He leans in slightly, adding in a sarcastic tone, “Especially not to Daemon Targaryen.”

“Took you this long to come to your senses, huh.” you say, biting back a smile. “It took another man successfully sweeping me off my feet – ”

“Okay, now,” he looks away, his lips curling. “No need to rub it in.” 

You can’t help but laugh softly at his wounded pride. “So what now?” you ask. 

“Why don’t you let me sweep you off your feet this time?” he offers. “With each and every single string attached.”

He offers something real, something more. Something resembling what you once shared, and perhaps even better this time. 

“Fine. I’ll get dressed,” you relent, backing toward your bedroom.

“Can I watch?” The boy has the audacity to call after you, his signature smirk in full display. 

“Ewan Robert Mitchell,” you click your tongue in mock disapproval, eyes narrowing at him, “why don’t you buy me dinner first?”

The cab rolls to a stop in front of a familiar modernised brownstone, and you turn to look at him suspiciously. “You brought me back to your place?”

Without a word, he slides out of the cab, quickly ambling to your side and opening the door for you. “My lady.” He offers his hand and you take it with an amused look in your eyes, still awaiting an explanation.

You ask again, “Mitchell, did you just lure me back to your apartment?”

“Yes, you’ve cracked it,” he smirks. “But don’t worry, I won’t just be seducing you into my bed. As tempting as that might be.”

He leads you inside, and when you step into the elevator, you notice he presses the button for the topmost floor – not his apartment. Your brow furrows. “What are you up to, Mitchell?”

“Patience is a virtue, darling,” he quips, his hand massaging the small of your back. 

The elevator dings to signal that you’ve reached your floor. He says, “Remember our first date? Up on that roof in LA?”

“How could I forget?”

“Well, I thought we could pay tribute to that memory.” The doors open and you’re met with the sight of a breathtaking rooftop pavilion, softly lit with hanging lights strung between metal beams, casting a golden glow that dances across the polished stone floor. It feels like an amplified echo of your first date, everything sharper and more vivid.

A small table for two sits in the centre, adorned with candles and more flowers, the atmosphere far more intimate. A bottle of wine sits in the centre, already uncorked, with two delicate crystal glasses waiting beside it. 

You blink, surprised and touched. “You did all this?”

He comes up behind you, his hands resting on your shoulders, his breath warm against your ear. “Did you really think I’d just settle for my couch and Netflix?”

“Honestly? I did,” you tease, leaning back slightly into him.

He chuckles, low and deep. “Well, I have to keep you on your toes, don’t I?” Then, more seriously, he adds, “I wanted to make up for weeks of mere stolen moments, you know?”

He moves to stand in front of you, and he asks, “Do you think I could steal a kiss, darling?” he asks, still teasing, but with an undertone of vulnerability. Do you like it? Do you approve of everything? his eyes seemed to say.

Slowly, you close the gap, your lips brushing his in the softest of touches.

It’s tentative at first, as if testing the waters, but then his hand comes up to cradle the side of your face, deepening the kiss. There’s no more teasing now, just raw, unfiltered emotion in the way his lips move against yours.

“I guess I didn’t need to steal it after all,” he whispers, a hint of a smile in his voice.

“No,” you say, mirroring his expression, “that one was all yours, baby.”

After dinner, which was nothing short of extraordinary – Ewan had gone all out, employing the exclusive restaurant from the ground floor of the building to cater the night’s meal – the two of you settle into the rooftop’s plush seating area. 

The conversation shifts naturally, easing into shared memories and playful banter. You both laugh about that disastrous karaoke night during your first press tour together, and how he barely made it through his favourite ‘For Whom The Bell Tolls’ without collapsing into a fit of embarrassed and drunken giggles. Tom, of course, relentlessly made fun of him for it, stepping into his role like an actual older brother. 

You wish you could stay in these moments, ignoring all the things left unsaid. But the weight of those things hangs heavy, demanding to be addressed.

“Listen, I have to tell you something.” The words almost catch in your throat as you search for the right way to begin.

“What is it, darling?”

“When I… When I broke things off between us, I wasn’t entirely honest with you. I know I said I wanted you to take on the film, and I did, I really did. But when I mentioned that thing about Jacob, about wanting to see where things would go with him, about feeling something for him… none of that was true. I just needed to say something that would convince you. Something that would keep you away, and hopefully change your mind about taking on the film.”

His expression turns stony. “You lied to me.”

“I lied for you,” you say, trying to keep your voice firm. “I know how important acting is for you. It’s been your dream ever since you can remember, and I didn’t want you to jeopardise that dream for my sake.”

“That wasn’t your choice to make,” he snaps, his voice tight with frustration. “I gave that up for us.”

“I never asked you to!” you nearly shout, the weight of it all spilling over. “You did that for me, I know you did. And you didn’t even tell me.”

“I would do it all again. I would make that same choice again. For you.”

“You made that choice all about me, without even consulting me,” you shoot back, the hurt evident in your voice. “If something went wrong with your career, I wouldn’t be able to live with myself. Knowing that I caused it.”

“You wouldn’t have,” he says, shaking his head, “But you were wrong to lie to me.”

“And you were wrong in not including me in your decision,” you retort, the back and forth bickering reminding you of playground taunting.

“So? You did the exact same thing.”

“I guess we’re both fucking hypocrites, aren’t we? Anyway, things fell into place. You’re all set for that franchise. And soon you have to play at being in love with someone else.”

“I don’t want to – ” he starts, but you cut him off. 

“You’re not quitting,” you say in finality, “Not for me.”

“Look at you now making decisions for me. How bloody generous of you,” he says venomously, all traces of softness gone from his voice. 

You stand in a huff, unable to take the arrogance he is showing you. 

The silence that follows is heavy, almost unbearable. It’s a silence filled with the unspoken frustrations and regrets of two people who thought they had control over the situation, only to find themselves in a web that is already far too tangled.

“I’m sorry,” he says, now standing close behind you.

“I’m sorry too,” you echo his sentiment weakly, casting your gaze to the night sky to find some solace and finding none. The only comfort would be in his eyes, but they might be a bit too cold for your liking at the moment. 

“I have to be in LA in a week,” he says in a flat line. “Pre-production for the film.”

“Ewan… I can’t just stand by while you have to be someone’s pretend boyfriend. We both know that these things have a way of making things messy.”

“Hmm,” he says, blankly staring out into the distance. “It's too late for me to quit anyway. Already signed on the dotted line.”

“So I guess we both know where we stand.”

“I guess we do,” he responds, his tone almost resigned.

“Matt asked me to be his date to his friend’s film screening,” you reveal, “and I think I’ll go.”

“Do you really… you and him, is that… ?” His question hangs in the air, fraught with unspoken jealousy and hope.

“I do like him,” you admit, holding back from the expanded truth, the addition of ‘but I love you’. 

“And you’re not just lying again for my sake?” he presses, eyes locking onto yours.

You glare at him. “Really?”

“Right,” he mutters, his shoulders slumping. “My bad.”

“I wish I could say I’m sorry for proposing no strings attached between us,” he starts, turning to face you, his voice tinged with regret. “Maybe I am, because I see now how it hurt you. But the truth is, I needed you – desperately. I needed you, but I couldn’t let go of my pride. I don’t regret having you, feeling you, holding you... even if it was all wrapped in that fucking mess. It was all I could manage, darling, and I’m sorry.”

You don’t even notice the stray tear that slips down your cheek, but Ewan is quick to brush it off with his thumb. His eyes also well with tears, and he smiles ruefully. 

You keep his hand pressed to your face, shutting your eyes for a moment. He leans in until his forehead meets yours, and the two of you stay there, two hearts hanging on the line.

“So you’ll go,” you say.

“I’ll be back in a few weeks,” he replies.

“We’ll be okay, Mitchell,” you say, leaning back to look at him. No matter what, in whatever capacity, you want Ewan in your life. Even if circumstances dictate that you can’t be with him. 

“Hmm.” His gaze sharpens. “And Matt? What about him?”

You hesitate, grappling with the truth that you’re not even certain of. “I can’t just push him aside. I owe it to myself to see where things go.”

He sneers, his eyes narrowing. “You think a few weeks away will change how I feel? If you want to explore things with him, fine, but don’t expect me to just back down.”

You meet his gaze with equal intensity. “And don’t think that things will just magically fall right back into place between us.”

“No.” He nods just the once. “But remember something, darling.”

“What is that, Mitchell?”

“You were my Alyna first.”

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Some notes in the margins...

Well, well, well... now that everything has been laid out on the line, it's open frickin season, babies!!! Anything can happen. Woohoo 🤍

When I said sweet, I hope you know that this is what I meant. Sweet.. and bitter, essentially. Like a good cocktail. A balance is needed 🍸

PS. this doesn't show the true outcome of THE poll (which I have already made up my mind over). That's still to be written. Watch out :)

[uyuforu]

Uranus in Solar Return Charts

Can we please stop associating Uranus with break ups or sudden horrible news in SRC????? Like this planet represents sudden change and unexpected news, yet it doesn't necessarily means it's bad, hold your horses. I'm so pissed at seeing only bad and negative observations about Uranus in Solar Returns, I decided to explain how Uranus actually play in your life yearly with my own SRC.

Anytime I had Uranus somewhere in my SRC, it mostly represented something that changed very suddenly.

Uranus 9H= I was going on trips very suddenly, unexpectedly but had good memories. Ruler of the 9H was Aries (fast trips/ week ends) and it was in 12H (trips). Ruler also conjuncted Juno and I was mostly doing these trips with my ex.

Uranus 6H= "funny" thing is that I had this placement during COVID time, and I was still at college, so my routine was def changed suddenly when we had to learn from home 100%.

Uranus 11H= This placement was in the same house as Chiron, and I suffered from losing friends this year. It was my first year of college and I didn't have many friends. Yet, sudden change since I met my best friend this year too! Moreover, 9H Ruler was Uranus and I was entering College, which created a huge change in my relationships since I met a lot of my current friends there. I also had a specific internet friend who helped me a lot that year.

Uranus 3H= This was tricky to understand at first, yet I remember this year I moved to country side of my country and was cut from seeing my friends, etc. So I was very much online in general and I was trying to meet more friends online. I indeed met my FS online this year (3H ruler in 7H) and it was very sudden!

Uranus 12H= This one was def harsh for me. I was moving abroad, living in a completely different culture than mine and honestly, I felt very lonely there. It was a true experience to have yet I was crying often. Yet, I also learned how to be more independent and enjoyed this alone time I had, to have more freedom and I appreciated to be by myself.

Uranus 10H= This is the placement I had this year lol. People said it means being fired from your job (why so negative) but that didn't happen lmao. My Natal 10H stellium would never. Though! This placement was exactly what it meant: me leaving "normal jobs", to get into a less conventional one. I was entering a liberal job, and something being online. This idea also came in a very unexpected way.

Uranus 7H= This is the placement I have for my next SRC, which is very soon! Many people associate this with breakup and tbh why not, Uranus meaning big big changes and sudden ones can actually transform this way. Yet, I am not in a relationship. And Rulers are def something to look at. I def think it means more sudden things happening in your relationships, and unexpected change. Things can change very fast or happen very fast. Ruler of the 7H is in 10H, and being Venus, I don't think it means a break up. Rather, 7H ruler in 10H can be an official and serious relationship. So this can translate either meeting someone and being in a relationship with them quite suddenly or being in a relationship with someone quite unexpectedly.

Anyway, hope it helped and please check more than just a planet in your houses!!

JULY BOOKING OPEN

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[xxbirkindoll]

coming back to you

pairings: ex!rafe x ex!reader

warnings: angst, fluff, jealousy

summary: rafe and y/n broke up and after 6 months, reader sees him at a party—except rafe isn’t alone.

words: 2.9k

The sunset over the Outer Banks was a spectacular sight—an explosion of orange and pink hues blending into the purple twilight. But tonight, as you watched the waves crash against the shore, the colors seemed muted, like they were missing something. Much like your life over the past six months.

Six months. It felt like both an eternity and a fleeting moment since Rafe had broken up with you. Even now, the memory of that day still stung, etched into your heart like a scar that refused to heal.

"I just need to work on myself, Y/n," he had said, his voice thick with emotion. "My temper, my… everything. You deserve better than what I can give you right now."

You had stood there, tears blurring your vision as you tried to understand what was happening. Rafe was your world, the one constant in the chaos of your life, and suddenly, he was telling you that you needed to be apart. That you, his Y/n, deserved better than him. It was a noble reason, and you knew he meant well, but it did nothing to soothe the heartbreak that followed.

Rafe was your first love, the person who made you feel alive and safe in a world that often felt too overwhelming. You had been drawn to him, not just for his good looks or his undeniable charm, but for the way he seemed to understand you in a way no one else did. He could be reckless, yes, and his temper was legendary, but beneath it all, you had seen the softer side of him, the side that cared, that loved fiercely and deeply.

You hadn’t expected to be torn away from that side of him. But he had been right, in some ways. Rafe had demons to fight—his addiction, his anger, his own insecurities. And he needed space to do that. You understood that, but it didn’t make the pain of losing him any less real.

For months, you’d been trying to move on, to rebuild your life without him. It was hard. Every corner of the Outer Banks held memories of him. From the beach where you first kissed to the docks where he’d whispered how much he loved you as the sun set. It all haunted you, a constant reminder of what you’d lost.

But tonight was different. Tonight, you were determined to take a step forward, to finally put some distance between you and the past. That’s why you agreed to go to the party with Sarah, despite your initial hesitation.

“You need this, Y/n,” Sarah had insisted earlier that day, her tone firm but gentle. “It’s been too long since you’ve done something fun. And I promise, Rafe won’t be there. He’s… been keeping to himself lately.”

You knew Sarah meant well. As Rafe’s sister, she was caught in a tricky position—being loyal to her brother while also being your best friend. But she had always been there for you, through the highs and the lows, and you trusted her.

And so, you found yourself at the Cameron family’s beach house, the music pounding in your ears and the smell of the ocean mixed with the scent of alcohol filling the air. The party was in full swing, with people dancing, laughing, and losing themselves in the carefree atmosphere.

But as much as you tried to blend in, to lose yourself in the moment, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off. Maybe it was the fact that you were at a place so closely tied to Rafe, or maybe it was the way your heart clenched every time you thought about him. Either way, you felt a knot of anxiety tightening in your chest.

“Hey, are you okay?” Sarah’s voice cut through your thoughts, and you turned to find her watching you with concern. She was holding two drinks, one of which she handed to you. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

You forced a smile, not wanting to worry her. “I’m fine. Just a little overwhelmed, I guess.”

She nodded, her expression softening. “I get it. But try to have some fun, okay? You deserve it.”

Taking a sip of the drink, you nodded again, though you weren’t entirely sure you believed your own assurances. You scanned the crowd, trying to distract yourself by observing the people around you. Most were familiar faces, locals you’d grown up with, but one person caught your eye. A girl you didn’t recognize, with short, brown hair and a confident smile.

And then you saw him. Rafe.

He was standing by the pool, laughing at something the girl had said, his hand resting casually on her waist. Your heart stopped, and for a moment, you couldn’t breathe. It wasn’t just seeing him again that hit you like a punch to the gut—it was how different he looked. His once shaggy hair was now buzzed short, and he had put on muscle, his t-shirt clinging to his toned arms and chest. He looked good, better than you’d seen him in a long time.

He looked like he was doing well. Like he was happy.

You wanted to be happy for him, you really did. But all you could feel was the sharp sting of jealousy and hurt. He had moved on. And you were still here, stuck in the same place, unable to let go of the past.

“Who’s that?” you found yourself asking, your voice barely above a whisper.

Sarah followed your gaze and winced slightly when she saw what—or rather, who—you were looking at. “That’s Sofia,” she said carefully. “She’s new around here. I think she’s just visiting for the summer.”

“Oh.” You swallowed hard, trying to process the information. Rafe was with someone else. Of course he was. You had no right to feel this way, but you couldn’t help it.

“He seems… different,” you murmured, not sure if you were talking to Sarah or just voicing your thoughts out loud.

Sarah sighed, her expression troubled. “He’s been trying, Y/n. He really has. But it’s been hard for him, too, you know? Breaking up with you—it wasn’t easy for him.”

“I know,” you whispered, your eyes still fixed on Rafe. “I just… I didn’t expect this. I thought that if he got better, maybe…”

“Maybe he’d come back to you?” Sarah finished gently.

You nodded, feeling the tears prick at the corners of your eyes. You blinked them away, not wanting to cry here, not now.

“Y/n, I think—” Sarah started, but before she could finish, someone bumped into you from behind, causing you to spill your drink. You turned, muttering a quick apology, but when you looked back towards the pool, Rafe and Sofia were gone.

The rest of the party passed in a blur. You tried to have fun, to talk and laugh with Sarah and the others, but your heart wasn’t in it. All you could think about was Rafe. You caught glimpses of him throughout the night, but he was always with Sofia, and it hurt too much to keep watching.

Finally, you couldn’t take it anymore. You needed air. You needed to get away.

“I’m gonna go for a walk,” you told Sarah, who looked at you with concern but didn’t try to stop you.

“Do you want me to come with you?” she offered, but you shook your head.

“No, it’s okay. I just need a minute.”

She nodded, squeezing your hand before letting you go. You made your way down to the beach, the cool night air a welcome contrast to the heat of the party. The sound of the waves crashing against the shore was soothing, and you found a spot on the sand, sitting down and hugging your knees to your chest.

You let the tears fall then, the ones you’d been holding back all night. It wasn’t fair. You had waited, hoping that Rafe would come back to you when he was ready. You had believed in him, in his ability to change. And now, seeing him with someone else, it felt like all your hope had been shattered.

The worst part was, you couldn’t even be angry at him. You knew why he had broken up with you, and you knew it was the right thing for him to do. But that didn’t make it any less painful.

You stayed there for a while, letting the tears flow until there were no more left. When you finally looked up, the party was still in full swing, but you didn’t feel like going back. You just wanted to go home, to curl up in bed and pretend that tonight had never happened.

But as you stood up to leave, you saw a figure walking towards you along the shoreline. Your heart skipped a beat when you realized who it was.

Rafe.

He stopped a few feet away from you, his hands shoved into his pockets as he looked at you with those piercing blue eyes that had always made you weak in the knees.

“Y/n,” he said softly, his voice carrying over the sound of the waves.

You swallowed hard, trying to compose yourself. “Rafe. What are you doing here?”

“I saw you leave,” he said, his gaze never leaving yours. “I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

You didn’t know how to respond to that. Part of you wanted to scream at him, to tell him how much he had hurt you, but another part of you just wanted to fall into his arms and forget everything else.

“I’m fine,” you said instead, though your voice wavered. “You should go back to the party. Sofia’s probably wondering where you are.”

“Sofia’s not important,” he said quickly, and the intensity in his voice made you look up at him in surprise. “She’s just someone I’ve been hanging out with, nothing more,” Rafe continued, his voice edged with urgency. “I’m not with her like that, Y/n. I’m not with anyone. I couldn’t be.”

Your heart pounded in your chest as his words sunk in, but you couldn’t let yourself believe them just yet. “Rafe, it’s been six months,” you said, your voice cracking. “You’ve had time to move on. And that’s okay. I don’t expect you to—”

“I haven’t moved on,” he interrupted, taking a step closer to you. “I haven’t moved on from you. God, Y/n, I’ve tried. I’ve tried to get over you, to pretend that I’m okay without you, but I’m not. I’m really not.”

You stared at him, unable to speak. His words were like a lifeline, something you had desperately needed to hear, but it only made things more confusing.

“Then why did you leave?” you finally whispered, the question that had haunted you for months slipping out. “Why did you break up with me if you still… if you still care?”

Rafe looked down, his jaw clenched tightly, as if he were fighting some internal battle. “I was scared,” he admitted after a long moment. “Scared that I was going to drag you down with me. I was a mess, baby. My temper, my addiction… I didn’t want you to have to deal with that. You deserved better. I needed to get better, for both our sakes.”

Your heart ached at the vulnerability in his voice, but there was still a part of you that couldn’t let go of the pain he had caused. “And now?” you asked, your voice trembling. “Are you better now, Rafe?”

He looked up at you then, and the raw emotion in his eyes nearly broke you. “I’m trying,” he said softly. “I’ve been going to therapy, working out, trying to stay clean. I’m not perfect, and I’ve still got a long way to go, but I’m trying. And the whole time… all I could think about was you.”

The words hung in the air between you, thick with unspoken feelings. You wanted to believe him, wanted to run into his arms and let him hold you like he used to. But you were afraid—afraid of getting hurt again, afraid that he might leave you once more.

“I don’t know if I can do this again,” you whispered, your eyes filling with tears. “Rafe, you broke my heart. I thought you didn’t want me anymore, that I wasn’t enough.”

Rafe’s expression crumpled with guilt and regret, and he closed the distance between you, reaching out to gently cup your face in his hands. His touch was warm, familiar, and it sent a shiver down your spine.

“Y/n, you are everything to me,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “I never stopped wanting you. I didn’t want to hurt you anymore. But I see now that I did anyway, and I hate myself for it. I’m so sorry, baby. I’m so fucking sorry.”

The sincerity in his voice, the way he looked at you like you were the only person in the world that mattered. It broke down the walls you had built around your heart. The tears you had been holding back finally spilled over, and you let out a shaky breath.

“Rafe…” you began, but the words caught in your throat. You didn’t know what to say. All the pain, the longing, the love you still felt for him—it was all too much.

Before you could stop yourself, you closed the remaining distance between you and wrapped your arms around him, burying your face in his chest. For a moment, Rafe seemed stunned, but then his arms were around you, holding you tightly against him as if he were afraid you might disappear.

He smelled like salt and the faint scent of his cologne, the combination so achingly familiar that it made your heart ache. You felt his chin rest gently on top of your head, his breath warm against your hair as he held you close.

“I missed you so much,” you whispered, your voice muffled against his chest. “I didn’t want to, but I did. I missed you every single day.”

“I missed you too,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “More than you’ll ever know.”

For a while, neither of you moved, content to just hold each other, to feel the connection that had never really been broken despite everything that had happened. The sound of the waves crashing against the shore was the only thing that broke the silence, a calming rhythm that matched the beat of your hearts.

But eventually, reality crept back in, and you pulled away slightly, looking up at Rafe. His face was so close to yours, his blue eyes searching your own with an intensity that made your breath catch in your throat.

“Rafe,” you began, your voice unsteady, “I don’t know if we can just… go back to how things were. So much has happened.”

“I know,” he said quietly, his hands still resting on your waist. “I know we can’t just pick up where we left off. But I’m willing to do whatever it takes to earn your trust again, Y/n. I want to be with you. I’ve never stopped wanting that.”

You searched his eyes, looking for any sign that he might be saying this out of guilt or obligation, but all you saw was the truth. He meant it. He still loved you, despite everything.

“I still love you too,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “I never stopped.”

Rafe’s eyes softened, and for a moment, you saw the boy you had fallen in love with all this time ago—the boy who had made you laugh, who had held you when you cried, who had loved you with everything he had.

“I’m so sorry I hurt you,” he whispered, his forehead resting against yours. “I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you if you’ll let me.”

You closed your eyes, feeling the warmth of his breath on your skin, the steady beat of his heart beneath your fingertips. And in that moment, you knew that despite everything, you still wanted him. You still wanted to be with him, to try again.

But there was still a part of you that was scared, that didn’t want to go through the pain again.

“I’m scared, Rafe,” you admitted, your voice shaking. “I’m scared that things will go back to how they were.”

He pulled back slightly to look at you, his expression serious. “I won’t hurt you again, Y/n,” he promised, his voice firm. “I’ve been working so hard to change, to be the person you deserve. I won’t let you down this time. I swear.”

You wanted to believe him. You wanted to trust him, to let yourself be vulnerable with him again. But trust was something that had to be earned, and you knew it wouldn’t be easy.

“I need time,” you said softly, your hands gripping the fabric of his shirt. “I need time to trust you again.”

Rafe nodded, his expression understanding. “I’ll give you all the time you need,” he said. “I’m not going anywhere.”

You let out a shaky breath, relief flooding through you. “Okay,” you whispered. “Okay.”

And for the first time in six months, you felt a glimmer of hope. You didn’t know what the future held, but you were willing to take a chance on Rafe, on the love that still burned between you. It wouldn’t be easy, but nothing worth having ever was.

As you stood there on the beach, wrapped in Rafe’s arms, you knew that this was a new beginning. A chance to rebuild what had been broken, to find your way back to each other. And this time, you would do it together.

a/n: i hate this so much! maybe bcs its too long and doesn’t have smut but ill try next time. pls give me requests!!

[sunriseverse]

especially i think it would be interesting if you did it as like. one of those “the characters get drugged/put into an illusion/whatever” tropes but. it’s like a prison within a prison because you’ve got the first layer of it being the severance universe and then the second layer of the devastation wrecked by forcefully breaking the characters into innies and outies. prisoners within a prison within a prison and they don’t even know it. yes i do like angst why do you ask.